Another Generation

My Son got married this Spring. It was an exhausting time and while I loved the wedding and enjoyed the party, I was a very happy girl when it was over and everyone was on the road. I have seen my son and daughter in law fairly frequently since then, they live about two hours away and have lots of friends and connections still in the home town. They have had lots of adjusting to do, as all married people do. Starting life as a couple, finding jobs and places to live. Figuring out how to juggle taking care of home and work and relating to family and friends. It's all hard work and takes time. They seem to be doing it well.

It's an adjustment for the family too. I am trying to relate to a son who is a husband now. He has done a remarkable job of remembering that we are adjusting too and has gone a long way to stay connected with his father over football and with me over family life. It's weird sometimes, for both of us I bet. I have to repeat the mantra over and over again, remember when you were doing this, remember when you were doing this.

There are lots about those days I do not remember, I am sure. I remember the floor that sloped so badly that it was unwise to set a glass on the table, it would slide to the floor every time. Or when my mother in law found the potato in my window and asked me why it was there and I said because it was green. Apparently the reason potatoes get green is because of exposure to sunlight. Who knew. The phone calls to my mom at lunch time to ask her how to make something else. I really had only mastered macaroni and cheese and rigatoni. I wasn't really even sure about those. I also remember that it was hard to want to hear wisdom from others but still be allowed to make my own decisions. I hadn't really learned to listen for good counsel and still being confident to make my own choice. I don't know that I struggled with the transition from daughter to wife. I think I had been pushing myself out of the daughter role for years.


Last night my daughter in law came into the kitchen and helped to get the casseroles for Thanksgiving started. She has certainly helped me do this in the past, but this year there was some urgency as I am recovering from pneumonia and somewhat wobbly. She was extremely helpful and encouraging without being smothering. She was independent and jumped in to find things so she was real help instead of just two extra hands. She was helpful and thoughtful without making me feel like an invalid. In fact, she was another adult in the kitchen. It was a very gentle tender moment and I felt honored that she would make the effort.

There are going to be many such moments, I suspect, as I learn to relate to my children as independent adults and enjoy them. I think it's nice to see them take charge of their life, develop a plan and life from it. I think it's delightful that they are nice people who's company I enjoy. I am blessed that God is good to such a knucklehead like me.

I wonder if they know the potato thing? I hope not.

Giving Thanks

It's the pause before the annual consumeristic Nirvana. Yes, I am talking about that glorious moment that begins at the crack of dawn, or just before when all my lunatic friends and I line up at the gates and shop until we drop, or we get to noon, whichever happens first. At noon the fabulous sales are over and it's just regular shopping, anyone can do that any time. I don't know why this particular activity should be worth all the effort, but trust me it is. I feel like high fiving all the retailers when I buy something....hey dude, check me out!

Oops, I forgot, this is about Thanksgiving. Sadly, I think I am not alone when it comes to this fault. Lots of us seem to see Thanksgiving as the precursor to the good stuff. This is sad. It didn't used to be this way. In fact, when I was a girl, Thanksgiving was a much awaited holiday. My grandparents would come from Virginia and bring us goodies from the farm. We would have turkey and stuffing and all the accessories and it would be an event. Why did it stop being an event?

Just a speculation, I think we can have an event involving food anytime we want. In fact, I know we can. We have restaurants everywhere, grocery stores, fast food, coffee shops, tea shops, you name it we got food covered. A special meal isn't special any more. Special meals with family is still special, but many of us aren't around family and gathering for a few days is hard. Many wait for a longer break at Christmas.

As for being thankful, I don't know. Many of my friends and family are people who practice an attitude of gratitude. I really know very few people who are blind to their blessings. All of us have time when we need to be reminded of them, but mostly the only people I know who are ungrateful are people who are ungrateful always, Thanksgiving included. They can find the grey cloud in every silver lining and I don't think anything short of the unconditional love of God will change that. So, it's not like we aren't thankful.

Maybe it's because the history has lost its meaning to us in the age of political correctness. Now that we are told our pilgrim ancestors were nothing short of bandits coming in here and taking this land that belonged to someone else. That they were lazy and foolish and treated the Native Americans so badly, we may feel some hesitance to celebrate a holiday connected to that. If this is the case, let me say this is sad. While all of that may be true, what is also true is that they came for religious freedom which we seem so eager these days to give away. They paid a pretty hefty price for this freedom and while they certainly made mistakes and chose some very bad priorities, they also laid for us a tradition of faith that formed who we are as a country. North America is far from the only land that was settled by people who wandered in and claimed some land, and while I would never say Native American's were at fault, they also contributed to the problems. No one is perfect, that's the reality. It's really time we stop bashing our forefathers and celebrate their faithfulness and praise God He redeems our mistakes.

I am for stopping the entire desire to rewrite history to make it fit a political persuasion, of any type. Let it be what it is and learn from it. Those who refuse to learn from history are destined to repeat it. Apologizing for it doesn't seem that effective.

So, be thankful this Thanksgiving. Celebrate your heritage as flawed as it may be and remember our Savior is the descendant of some interesting ancestors. We can be thankful not that our heritage is flawless, but that our God redeems it all. Thank goodness.

Deflation of Ego

I have what I am calling the flu. My head is about to explode, my chest has been filled with concrete and for three days now I have laid in my bed, in my bedroom and I am about to go crazy. I have missed a women's event at my church, the hauling out of Christmas Trees for the decorating party and now worship, Sunday School and a luncheon to celebrate the trees. I am irritated, aggravated, frustrated and put out. I have given my body adequate time to rebound and it lays there like a lump of jello, just gently swaying but not really seeming to be making any kind of effort to get itself together. Don't think I haven't tried to help it. I have poured enough fluids into it to cause it to flush out every cell, every sign of infection, every single invader or any kind. I have taken enough meds to conquer infection of any sort and I have rested until the concept of nap is about ruined for me. I am beyond suffering quietly and into full-out-head-biting-everyone-run-for-cover attitude. While I hate being sick, which I loathe beyond loathing, I am absolutely horrified by not getting my job done. I am torn between thinking this had better be a big deal and it had better be gone by morning. I can't stand the concept of missing more work.

Let me make something perfectly clear. I have been accused of being a workaholic. I think this is untrue, but I do like to work and I do like to do a good job at what I do. I am not upset because I am not at work, though that is a bummer, I am more upset that the work is not getting done. I have had to give my work to coworkers and volunteers to ask them to fill in for me. I had to let a few folks down who were counting on me being with them and I couldn't go. I have had to ask for favors and let my Sunday School class run amok because I couldn't get there to cover my responsibilities. I am dropping not one but many balls and it's making me ill. Oh wait, I already am.

Here is what I think is likely to happen: everything will go on just as scheduled. Yep, I bet the world goes on rotating, I bet people go on worshipping, I bet no one's spiritual life is altered for the worse. The Christmas trees will either go up or not and the luncheon will either happen or it wont. The lady in charge of the women's event will eventually forgive me and the classes who have to do their own tree construction will mutter bitterly under their breath but the trees will go up and they will have a common enemy to unite them. I suspect that the people who have stepped up to cover for me will be blessed by their willingness and God will do wondrous things with this time. So why am I fighting it so much?

Lots of reason, of course. I had a plan and I hate to have my plans messed with. I have a need to be needed. Seems like a bad thing that I can be so easily replaced. I do not want to look bad or that I have failed to do my job. I do not want to be so easily sidelined. I want to be above human failings. I hate when I am not. It is not that I think I am the only one who is able to get the job done, I just hate to leave my jobs to others to do, along with their own. Oh that I could achieve all the things I believe I am capable of!

So mostly I am angry because I am dealing with the gentle or not so gentle reminder that it's not by might but by His Spirit. It's not about me, it's about Him. God is God all the time, not just when I feel good. When people are disappointed in me, let down by my failings or angry with me for my absence, I need to remind myself that my friend Greg would say, what did you expect?! Of course I will be a disappointment and a failure at times, I am a fallen, broken person redeemed and in the process of being made perfect only by God's amazing grace. Let no man be lead astray, the glory is all God's

Now that I have that straight again, do you suppose I could go back to work?

Pondering purpose

Today I crossed over to the land of the balanced and mature, the thoughtful and the pensive, the both/and. I was inspired by much, I learned much, I didn't stay long. I hope I hauled home some truths that I can use. I will attempt to keep them handy anyway, as I do not believe I can cross over too often. I fear that I will find it tempting to stay. What on earth would my world be like if I didn't have to say, gee, I am sorry six quadzillion times a day? What might happen to me if I learned how to say, no, I don't believe I will? Where would the excitement and joy come from without the fires to put out, the emotional outbursts to redeem, the lovely make up gifts to purchase? It makes my head hurt and my heart ache just thinking about it. So let's not, shall we?

One of the things I learned is that when people say there are two sides to every story, they are right and both sides have some merit. Most people hold an opinion and a value because they believe it to be the right thing. Some I will admit hold these opinions and values because someone else did and they seemed reasonable. Some of them because it seemed right and they have never cared enough to discover whether it really is. But mostly people, having given the matter some consideration, think their opinions are right. And good people thinking they are right often line up on opposite sides from other good people who are also sure they are right. Tonight I heard one of those discussions and I can say without hesitation both sides were right in part. They needed to acknowledge where each other was right and try to find the places where they could bend and compromise, but they couldn't. They were too busy defending their positions and attacking the others. I understand when one thinks they are right it is hard to think compromise and acceptance for another view point. I usually cannot pull this off myself. In the land of balance and maturity though, this is a way of life and essential to conflict resolution. Accept that there are two sides, try to listen to both, even if you hold the opinion that the other side is wrong and figure out what is common ground. Piece of cake in the land of the thoughtful and pensive. Harder than nails in the land I live.

Another truth from the land of both/and, everyone has a gift and a purpose. Everyone. Even those lousy, no good, pond scum bottom feeders who have been placed on the planet for the soul purpose of irritating me. They have a gift and a purpose. Everyone does. Someone's gift and purpose may be nothing more than pointing out that when God said this is my commandment that you love one another, He meant everyone. If you can discover a gift and a purpose even the most EGR (extra grace required) person on the planet they are little easier to appreciate. If you cannot, ask someone else, they may know. If the two of you can't find anyone who can help you with this, pack this person up and take them to the land of balance and maturity. They are too tough for you and me to mess with.

Finally, nobody always knows the right direction. Yes, no one. Even the GPS system that lead me through every corn field in southern Illinois. Nobody can know for 100 percent certainty, all the time, without fail, that they are going the right way, made the right choice, told the right people, did the right thing. Everyone has a day or a week or a moment or a lifetime when they wonder if they are doing the right job, living in the right home, have proper furniture placement for the feng shui thing. It's universal. If you find someone who says they have never wondered, please immediately connect them with a person who's gifts and purpose you are having a hard time identifying. The two of them not only belong together, we must keep their influenced limited. The real truth from the land of the balanced, is that it's not confidence in direction that merits admiration, it's confidence that if we are not going in the right direction God recalculates us and it all works for the good because we love Him and are called according to His purposes. Whenever we can figure out what they are...

The land of balance and maturity has a lot of good stuff going for it. There was a whole section there about being a cheerful giver and sharing what you have and treating others with the respect and affection you would like for yourself, but I really can only hold so much information at one time. Besides my shallow indicator was buzzing me, warning me that I was about to move into thinking that had depth and required pondering. Today is national don't think deeply day. Just my luck!

A sock monkey Christmas

My grandmother was one of twelve children born to a farming family. All of them lived to grow up, though some died as young adults. They were not wealthy by any stretch of the imagination and my grandmother wasn't the youngest nor the eldest but somewhere in the lower middle. Born into a small farming town in rural southern Virginia, my grandmother never lived anywhere else and in the last thirty years of her life, she lived less than a mile from the home where she was born. Many times before the home was declared off limits because it was no longer safe, I crawled around checking out this house that held so many. No indoor plumbing and smaller than almost any house I know these days. I always wondered where they put all those children but I guess they just stacked them somewhere. I suspect personal space did not exist in my grandmother's youth.

She was an interesting woman, she had this interesting way of telling stories, the details always wrong and the point being one she wanted to make, whether the story was really about that or not. My grandfather used to listen until his patience was gone and he would announce loudly. "Ah Nell, that is not the way it happened." When I was a child that was enough to silence my grandmother but as I grew older, and she did as well, she began to argue back some. My siblings and I enjoyed "Ah Nell" almost as much as anything else my grandfather ever said.

She was a good if simple cook and worked many years along side my grandfather on the farm. They were not partners as I understand the word, my grandfather was the last word and he held all the responsibility for the children and for her, but they worked well together and enjoyed one another very much. My grandfather was a reserved stoic man in my early years but as he aged he also mellowed and the younger cousins could often talk him into a game of hide and seek. My grandmother entertained by assigning us jobs and letting us 'help'. She also had this knack with socks. She could take these work socks and turn them into things we could play with, most often a sock monkey, though I have had a baby doll or two in my day made from white socks. I did not know anyone when I was growing up who had a grandmother who made sock monkeys. I lived in the city and there everyone had grandmothers who made pasta or kielbasa but not sock monkeys. I was an oddity and I am not sure I looked at the sock monkey as a badge of honor.

My grandmother would make, for my siblings and I, a pair of pajamas for Christmas. I have countless pictures of my sister, my brothers and myself standing in front of the Christmas tree wearing our Christmas pajamas. Always the same general color, made from flannel and opened with the same sort of response each year. Someone would find your package, wrapped in bright Christmas paper and toss it over to you saying, "Sus, here are your Christmas pajamas." As we got older and my grandmother had more difficulty sewing, the pajamas stopped and so did the sock monkeys. One year though my grandmother was in the crafty mode and she made me a Santa Clause out of white yarn that I have to this day. She made me two actually, the first one was consumed by one of the dogs we had through the years. When she made the second one she told me to keep it high and I have.

Over the years I have come to discover that sock monkeys weren't invented by my grandmother. I see they are making a comeback and tonight I found a sock monkey ornament. Of course I had to buy it and it will grace our tree, but isn't it interesting how a few years and a new perspective change the way you look at things. I am old enough now to know that the things that matter are those that return a memory, that remind you of a blessing and bring back to your thoughts someone who you dearly loved. Not in the rosy glasses kind of way, but in a very real, very vivid, contemporary kind of way. I stood in the middle of the store and I could hear my grandmother say my name, or one of my cousins names trying to get to mine. I can right now picture the chair in the living room and photo albums and see the table that used to belong to my great grandmother but now graces my dining room. I can picture the kitchen and the table and chairs and the library table. The library table makes me think of my cousin, also graduated into eternity. I often wonder if she enjoyed the table as much as she had hoped she would.

My grandparents were faithful Methodists all their lives. I often chuckle when I stop to think about working for the Methodist Church. I am quite sure they know and they probably discuss it often. My grandmother starts the stories, the details all wrong and after a bit my grandfather chimes in "Ah Nell" and the battle begins. My dad is there and he rolls his eyes and goes on reading the paper. I can't imagine the three of them any differently.

God blesses us with heritage. Some of it is comforting, its affirming, it tells us we belong to family and tradition. Some of it is less so, there are skeletons in most closets and some painful memories. Some of us spend our lives trying to live better than our roots and some of us trying to live out of them. The word for all of us is redemption. There is much to be redeemed for all and there is much redemption that is coming, some in this life, some in the next. Redemption is a promise and we can count on God to do what He says He will do, in His own way and in His own time. Today as I stood in the store looking at my sock monkey I see some of the injury and woundedness from my childhood being redeemed. The very thing that used to tell me I was different from my friends, my background was different and I didn't quite fit in, told me that I belonged to a family who did it's best to love it's members. Even if that meant sock monkeys.

Who knows this year someone may make me pajamas and make me a new sock monkey. In fact, we could start having a traditional sock monkey Christmas. Redemption at it's very best.

Lost in the back and beyond

Did you ever wonder where the back and beyond was? Wonder no more, I know and I will tell you. Just drive to Kentucky and get on a route #473 and follow it faithfully. I don't know exactly at what point you arrive to the back and beyond but at some point you will look around and say, hey, here I am! I know this to be true, I had it happen today!

There I was lost in my lack of sleep state of being, kind of a state of heightened numbness if you know what I mean. Absolutely exhausted but still moving forward on the caffeine induced state of consciousness. Have you ever done this? I don't really recommend it, I heard myself speaking tonight and I thought, will someone ask that annoying woman to stop talking and then I realized it was me. Not only that but after a lot of caffeine your body parts seem to work in slow motion, you think about your arm raising long before it does so.

So back to the drive, I am sipping coffee and following the route sign and projecting positive thought to all the deer who might be standing just off the road waiting to time their sprint into the middle of the lane with the arrival of my passenger door. I begin to notice the houses are farther and farther apart, I haven't passed a car in a long time and all of the sudden I cannot see another light anywhere. I begin to look for the closest street lights and security lights in yards and I think wait, stop! You have reached the back and beyond. Too bad I didn't have my camera. Only it was dark and you wouldn't have seen anything but dark anyway. Still, seems a shame not to record this moment for posterity.

I did a u turn and got excited when I thought I saw lights coming in the distance and thought, wouldn't it be funny if in the middle of back and beyond I get hit by the only other vehicle left on the planet. Only of course they were not lights at all, just reflections of my lights on the water in the ditch. Golly. I guess if I had sat there waiting for the car to pass that would have been worse, but only just barely.

Moral of the story, sleep more, worry less and when you get to the back and beyond stop and giggle a little. It makes you feel so much better and who can see you anyway. I don't think the police do a Breathalyzer test for people who are sleep deprived but I am not entirely sure about that. I can tell you this, I couldn't have walked a straight line if my life depended on it. I wasn't even sure I was wearing my own shoes for goodness sake.

By the way, if I happened to be talking to you today, it wasn't really me. It was either my evil twin sister or it was all a dream depending on which alternatives means more to you. And have I mentioned lately what a great gift grace is? Gosh I needed lots today.

Comfort by the Campfire

It's cold all of the sudden! I know it's winter and all of that, but it has been just delightful weather. Then all of the sudden, bam it's like winter! I mean we had to scrape ice off the truck this morning, what is up with that?! My feet have been frozen and I absolutely couldn't get the car warm enough, fast enough to make the drive to the gym bearable this morning. I kept putting my hair up in a pony tail, and then pulling it out because my ears needed covering. What a pansy this Pennsylvania girl has become.

The best part of this weather is the early morning hours when you are warm and drowsy and the world seems like a hazy memory and life is good. It's those pre-alarm coming and going from consciousness moments that are delicious and delightful and I want it to go on and on and on. Water too, water tastes so much better when it is really cold as it comes out of the facet. I love that first glass, it's refreshing all the way down. I can't seem to get anyone else excited by that, but I think its remarkable. I also love the smell of wood burning. It's comforting even if you can't see the flames.

The worst part is looking out the window at 5:00 pm and the sun gone and the dark closing in. By 8:00 pm you feel like you have been up into the wee small hours and you are too tired to stay awake any longer. It's depressing. The skies seem to be greyer, longer and the leaves fall and the trees look sad and barren. It's not the comfort season, it's the season of our discontent. It would be unbearable only the water is delightful to drink, the covers make the bed a haven and smell of wood burning remind you of friends and family and the comfort of their presence.

I am finding that presence is the key to lots of comfort moments. Quite often when I am frazzled to the core and feeling lost and defeated an email arrives, a card, a phone call and somehow that little touch is enough to love me into a better frame of mind. I love when God seems so far away and someone pops in to tell me about a God moment. I really love when some silly thing I have done, or said, or written becomes a means of grace and God allows me to know. It's like winning a medal or finishing a long detailed exhausting job, it's a feeling of intense satisfaction. The same one I have felt many times, laying in front of a fire, feet on the hearth and head on a big squishy pillow. Life is very good.

I don't know why God made comfort an essential need, but it is. I don't know why certain things are comforting but they are. And I don't know why we should have to have times when we feel bad to appreciate how good it is to feel good. I only know this, God is faithful and in time dancing replaces weeping and a crown of beauty replaces ashes. The fire place is calling my name. Discontent is a brief season, comfort is a life time.

Sunday, Sunday

It's Sunday morning and as I roll out of bed I am already thinking through the responsibilities of the day. I have a class to teach, two worship services to attend, a Bible study to attend and the work week to prepare for. I am certainly not unique in Kingdom work, all those who are involved in ministry have schedules that are very similar. We are busy people, trying to be faithful to the people God has entrusted to our care. I heard Adam Hamilton once say that those in ministry had to do whatever it took to be up and positive even if that meant drinking a six pack of mountain dew because it is our job. I think he was right, it is our job and we need to take is seriously. I try to, I think about it every Sunday morning and try to remind myself that I am entitled to feelings and moods but they can't impact work.

Still, because I was not always a full time ministry person, I think we are missing something. God wants us to enjoy worship, it's our offering of praise and thanksgiving. He wants us to have grateful and joyful hearts. He wants to us to see these moments as opportunity to be embraced, not as work to be endured. I know we can't always run gleefully to worship every Sunday but I think it ought to be more than obedience. Obedience has it's place and I am all for responding faithfully, but I am also sure God wants us to come in expectation of a moment in His presence. I want to go knowing I am a fortunate woman, that God has blessed me with the opportunity to serve on the front lines and through His grace, and filled with His Spirit, I might actually be able to further the Kingdom. What a privilege! Why do I keep forgetting this when Sunday mornings roll around.

I think part of the responsibility in the community of faith needs to be the constant reminder that what we do is a gift. We have been given the talent and courage and the resources we need from God. We are given the people and the opportunity and the time from God. Whatever fruit we bear and whatever lives are changed and whatever mercy is evidenced is all God's. We just get to say yes, and be present. What kind of glorious job is that? Of course the yes is hard. Of course the work is difficult and the days are long and the people are well....stupid sheep. But we are constantly renewed with what we need if we remember where to go to get it. What kind of opportunity is that?


I don't always like this job. In fact, there are days when I dislike it greatly. There are times when the people are tough, the sacrifice is great, and being sold out and surrendered sounds better on a tee shirt. There are dry spells where my soul is parched waiting for refreshing grace to rain on me. There are times when, like Elijah, I cry out to God; I am the only one you have left! Why are you treating me this way? There are times when the awesome nature of a mighty God so astound me that I am humbled to my knees and amazed that He would ever mess with a silly little girl like me. There are times when the presence of God is so strong that it is electrifying and I can hear the rushing wind and I know that I know that I know He is in this place. God save me from thinking this job is just another job. Or that a day is just another day.

So it's Sunday. Let's go see a miracle take place.

A sabbath rest

It is Saturday. This is a a day I reserve for my favorite past time, a hold over from my teenage years. I sleep in. I love to sleep in, it's like decadence at it's very best.

I have always longed to sleep in. I didn't realize, until I had child number three, that sleeping in is a genetic trait. It is inborn. You might always have to get up early but you are a sleeper-inner under all that discipline. Mr. Sam is a sleeper inner too. The rest of the boys have their father's preset to rise early. I believe this is genetically inferior but it must be acknowledged that Benjamin Franklin disagreed with this. After all he wrote that stuff about early to bed and early to rise and the early bird gets the worm and yadda yadda yadda. Still, is there truly anything better than sleeping in and waking up to feel like king of the world?

I think this is better than just about anything I can think of, with perhaps an exception or two. It's soothing to the soul. It's refreshing and invigorating. It's glorious, no wonder God wanted to include a day off in the creative order. Why on earth doesn't everyone enjoy this experience?!

Yet the truth is, it is not every one's cup of tea. There are folks who think bounding out of bed is some kind of wonderful gift, who smile over coffee in the morning and bound off to whatever the day holds full of life and cheer. They even do this when they don't have to do this, even on a Saturday. I run into some of them at the gym. They are so chipper. I believe their behavior to be wrong. I try not to tell them so. I am not always successful.

This past week while at the gym, before the sun had even though about shifting to my side of the globe, one of those cheerful morning types accosted me (yes,she did). She not only wished me a happy morning but she told me to help my self to candy or take some home for my grandchildren. Let me say I do not have any grandchildren. I do not look old enough to have grandchildren. It is unwise for a cheerful morning person to speak to me at all, let alone offer me candy for nonexistent grandchildren. That woman is lucky I am too tired in the morning to let the air out of her tires. It wasn't like I had even had caffeine yet. Goodness.

In addition to sleeping in, I have grown partial to the nap. I like a good hour to snooze away in the afternoon. I think the younger set has it right, though they are sometimes very stubborn about giving into nature. I think I am getting a little crabby about mid day and with a little nap I am wired and ready to go again. I like to stay up late and I am much more productive if I am allowed to get started and keep going uninterrupted. I find that doing that during daylight hours is impossible. The only hope is to wait for life to slow down, and grab a project and work it until you drop or it's finished. That's a nighttime thing.

So here is to sleep in Saturday and the lovely mid afternoon nap. For a world that would run on my time schedule and for everyone to realize I am much too young for grandchildren. Even when I am a grandmother, I expect people to say I am much too young to be a grandmother. Even if I have to pay them to do so. Somethings are just worth the investment.

To all of you Benjamin Franklin morning people, go ahead enjoy the morning. You can even smile and be chipper and cheerful. Just don't call me on Saturday mornings.

I hope this isn't a sacrilege to my fellow sleeper inners but, it turns out the sunrise is just as beautiful as the sunset. I drive home from the gym in awe and wonder watching the sun wake up. It fills the sky with those same gorgeous colors that I love to watch appear in the evening sky. I have been looking forward to the drive home just for that reason. I just can't figure out why on earth God makes it happen to early.


This and other questions will be answered one day. But I bet not on Saturday mornings. In eternity, everyone sleeps in then.