Fragments

During a conversation with a peer today, it suddenly occurred to me that I might want to consider finishing one thought or subject before moving on to something else.  I make this change, quite literally, in the middle of a sentence.  It's as though my brain has completed that topic and is ready to move onto something else, even if my mouth and the conversation haven't. And then, if that isn't bad enough, I will then go back to the first subject, expecting my audience to completely understand my train of thought without any sort of explanation.  I am not sure if that is sad, selfish, or a little of both.

There is, thankfully, one person whom God saw fit to gift with the ability to follow this bunny trail rather accurately.  This person can take my randomness, digest it, and keep up with my train of thought.  I once thought that she was merely humoring me, but I have come to realize that's not the case.  Why?  Because she is just like me!!  Our conversations generally make anyone else who might be eavesdropping more confused than ever, begging us to please stick to one topic at a time before moving on to something new. It is probably the reason why I spend more time talking to my mother than I do anyone else on the planet.  I never have to explain myself again or qualify myself.  More than anyone else, she gets me.

It's not a secret language, and I promise we don't do it on purpose.  There is a lot to be said, however, for having that one person on the planet who completely comprehends you.  My husband, bless him, tries.  If he doesn't get what I'm talking about, he will at least ask for clarification.  I appreciate and adore that more than I can express! It's better than the glassy-eyed stare that accompanies the lack of comprehension that I get from most conversational partners.  It makes me wonder if they walk away thinking "What a fruitcake!" or  "Huh?"  It's okay if you do; I understand completely why you would. 

So, I am adding this to my commitments for 2010. I will endeavor to ensure that more than one person can follow my train of thought by attempting to get my errant brain into some sort of alignment.  I will make sure that at least...oh, 75% of the time the other person leaves the conversation knowing what we were talking about.  No more...umm, scratch that...fewer obscure references to things only my mom and I would actually understand.  Less fragments and more run-on sentences...well, at least more compound ones where the two ideas on either side of the conjunction are actually related. 

Of course, that being said, I am fairly confident that there will still be times when I slip up.  I will still think you know what I mean when I move on to another topic mid-sentence and then go back to the former two sentences later.  Please feel free to utter a simple "Ummm, you lost me."  I will do my best to stop, rearrange the fragments into complete thoughts, and try it again.

That being said, I am fairly confident that my mother will still be subjected to the same sort of bunny-hopping weirdness.  Why?  Because she is less deserving of the effort?  Because she somehow is getting the short end of the stick?  Nope.  It's because I am fairly confident that my wonderful conversations with her will continue just like they are on a bi-daily basis with no alterations or adjustments needed.  Again, why?  Because together, our two fragments make a perfect whole.

Review - Fool's Gold

In Fool's Gold,Melody Carlson introduces us to Hannah, the daughter of missionaries to Papua New Guinea who is staying with family for the summer while her parents are trying to raise funds for their mission work. Hannah is thrown into a lifestyle completely opposite from the one to which she was accustomed in PNG.  Over the course of a summer, Hannah turns away from the God she has always followed and falls into the age old trap of serving the worldly gods of money and popularity.

The book is definitely geared towards teenagers and addresses the age old issue of peer pressure.  Carlson's story of fall and redemption certainly speaks to legions of teenagers who feel, succumb to, and overcome the pressure to be one of the crowd.  Hannah must learn through her mistakes that it takes true strength  to turn away from the things of the world and to turn to God.

What I like about Carlson's novel is that she really does relate to teenagers and relays a story that can truly make an impact.  As teenagers, most of us felt the pressure to fit into a mold.  Carlson leads Hannah on this journey of losing herself to the crowd and then finding her way back to the One who asks us to break the mold, not fit into it.  Carlson's story is an easy read and one to which it is easy to relate.  While I wouldn't necessarily recommend this novel for adult readers, I would certainly recommend this for their teenage children. Carlson has truly found her niche in writing for young adults and does a wonderful job of addreessing the issues that face them in their daily lives.

This book was provided free of charge by the publisher as a review copy. The publisher had no editorial rights or claims over the content or the conclusions made in this review. Visit www.navpress.com for more information on this book.

Review - Saving Cicadas

"Saving Cicadas picks you up in once place and puts you down in someplace else entirely."   I honestly have to say I agree with this statement.  Please note that  I also do not necessarily think this is a good thing.  First and foremost, however, I have to applaud Nicole Seitz for taking on subject matter that is most often ignored.  As a woman who struggled with infertility and lost a child, I am probably more sensitive to the subject of abortion than others.  Nicole Seitz chooses to take this subject and tackle it head on.  She does not shy away from expressing her complete distaste for this practice in the novel.  That being said, she also does not spend the entire novel condemning her own character for making the decision once and considering the decision a second time. Seitz gives great insight into the struggle to make a decision as weighty as that one and also the grief and guilt that can come from choosing to abort a child as opposed to having him/her.

From the opposite side,  the issue I have with Saving Cicadas is in the execution.  The transition from chapter to chapter was choppy and a bit confusing at times.  Also, Seitz  has a tendency in this novel to set up the end of a chapter with a climactic lead into the next, with the delivery of the climax falling flat. Once could have been overlooked, but she chose to do this multiple times throughout the novel.  In addition, 8 1/2 year old Janie Doe Macy is wise beyond her years. The narrative in most of the chapters is intended to come from her point of view.  As it was written, I had to keep checking to see if it the chapter was in Janie's point or Mona's, as there was no real differentiation between the voice of the two characters.  If the majority of the story was to come from the eyes of a child, this mark between the viewpoints should have been more defined.

In the end, I land on the fencepost in my opinion of Saving Cicadas. The first two parts are slow and were a struggle to complete, with the third part almost making up for it.  Notice the almost.  I usually recommend a book based on the likelihood that I will read it again.  With only one third of the novel keeping my interest, it is not very likely that I would choose to read this a second time.  The ending was fantastic but getting there was not half the fun.

This book was provided free of charge by the publisher as a review copy. The publisher had no editorial rights or claims over the content or the conclusions made in this review. Visit www.thomasnelson.com for more information on this book.

 

Shorthand of Emotion

It never ceases to amaze me how influential music is.  Music can communicate love, hope, peace, and faith. Music has the ability to cross barriers, be they racial, cultural, ethnic, or ones of language.  Music can bring calm to a storm, hope to the hopeless, and God to those who might not hear. It leads me to agree with Tolstoy's definition of music, that "Music is the Shorthand of Emotion." Sunday night, I was blessed to be a part of that dictation.   

For several months, the choir of LBC was on hiatus.  We did not have a choir director/music minister and, as a church, were actively seeking someone for the position.  As I do not have many talents for witnessing outside of what I can do in song, I felt the absence of a creative outlet fairly acutely.  I had felt like a piece of driftwood; there for an unknown purpose, simply being swept along with the tide.

Enter Jeff Campbell.

Having had broken my ankle the day before he was there to "audition," I had not met him prior to his arrival in mid-October, when Jeff came to LBC to fill the position of music minister/worship leader/choir director.   All I had been told was that he had travelled with Wings (with Liza) and that he was very nice.  Upon meeting him, I could definitely concur.  Jeff brought to our first meeting/practice an infectious energy.  Even with a very limited time schedule, Jeff opted to prepare a program for Christmas. It was certainly an ambitious plan; however, not once did Jeff's faith in what we could accomplish waiver.  He remained positive and uplifting, constantly reasserting his belief that we could (and would) do well.

Flash forward to Sunday night.  To say I was blessed would be a severe understatement.  Without the outlet of singing, I had been floundering and searching for a new direction. Last night, I was again reminded of the awe-inspiring ways in which God speaks to us.  For many, telling of their faith in Christ is second nature. For me, singing it is.  Where I would stumble with verses or struggle to find exactly the right words to say, music never fails me.  God always seems to give me what I need through music.  Last night, I had the privilege to sing with about 45 of some of the most wonderful people I have ever met. Each one, in his or her own way, brought something special to our program.  God was truly glorified last night through the lives and voices of those 45 individuals who gave of their time and of their talents to serve Him.  I am truly humbled that God would choose me to serve with such a wonderful group.  I am excited to see what plans He has in store for us next!  I pray that He will lead our choir to do great things for His glory and honor, for it is through Him that we are given these gifts and through Him that we will accomplish great works for His kingdom. 

Pressing Onward

I like to think that I am an optimistic person.  I can usually take a hit better than a Timex.  And yet, today has been one of those days.  It has been as if Satan decided to take a personal liking to my family, and he is doing everything in his power to try and discourage us.  I have felt the weight of this all day long, in various attacks he has unleashed on us.  I would LOVE to be able to say that I have ended the day triumphant and energized from the fight.

Alas, the opposite is true.  I still KNOW that God is protecting and watching us.  I am just mentally and physically exhausted from battling with my human nature today.  You know, the side that simply wanted to give in to the stress, grief, and despair of the day.  The side that wanted to just give up. The side that really tried to convince me to just lay it all down, throw my hands in the air, and give Satan the victory. 

While I am not energized at the end of this very long day, I do feel a victory for the other side.  At the end of the day, I did NOT give up and I did NOT give in.  SATAN DID NOT WIN!!!  I know there is greatness in that, and I can only give the glory to God for this win.  It is for sure that I wasn't able to do it on my own.

As is normally the case on the off chance I have a struggle one day, I turned to God's word to help give me what I need.  Today, I need encouragement.  I need to know that once the day is done, I can only look ahead to what God will provide for me next.  I can only trust that He will continue to lead and guide us and provide the hedge of protection around us.  I found that encouragement in Philippians 3:13-14:

I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.


I know that I must look beyond the events of today.  I will lean on God to provide the strength to learn from the challenges and to set a plan to deal with the hills and valleys still to be traversed.  I WILL find hope in all He provides.  I WILL press on toward the goal.  And I WILL strive to forget what is behind and strain toward what is ahead.  I will step behind the hedge of protection that is found in Him.  


After all, today was 24 hours that I can either choose to learn from and move beyond and not let it impact the hours left that God will give me, or I can choose to allow this 24 hours to define me.  I choose to press onward.

525,600 Minutes

How do you measure, measure a year?

Or in my case, three. In just over 24 hours, Z will turn three years old. As I sit here, on the eve of this momentous day, I think about time. God has, so far, gifted me with 1,576,800 minutes of time with my son. When I look at that number, it seems like such a large amount. In reality, it is so very small. I know that every parent says the same thing, "It seems like only yesterday that he was born." Cliche as it may be, it is also very true. I feel like I blinked and here we are.

The day he was born, I had been eagerly awaiting his arrival. We had been trying to have a baby for almost six years at that point, and we had sent our first son, Aidan, home to be with Jesus. I had spent 42 weeks waiting to meet Z. I had a relatively easy pregnancy and expected labor to be the same. Not so much. Fourteen hours later, my doctor decided that since Z was not coming on his own, he would go get him. I was not allowed to have my glasses, so it would be another few hours before I was able to meet my son.

Another cliche proved to be true the moment the nurse brought his bassinet through the door. "Love at first sight" does not even begin to describe how I felt about my son. He was bundled up in the hospital blankets with a hat that had been crocheted by hospital volunteers. He was sleeping so very soundly and looked so peaceful. My heart and mind were overwhelmed with love for him.

Now, three years later, I still struggle to comprehend how it is possible to have this much love. I watch my son and husband play in the floor, listen to Z tell his dad to stop, run away, and then run back for more, and I think I am the luckiest woman in the world. Over the last three years, we have endured ear infections, tubes, allergies, shots, bumps, and bruises. But, even more important, we have seen crawling, walking, learning, growing, and more giggles than I can ever count (which, I have to say, is my favorite sound in the world; it beats ANY music ever composed).

Only God knows how many more minutes He will grant us in this life. All I know is that I will not waste even one that I am given. I will love my family with all that I am, give them all that I can, and not look back on any moment with regret. I pray that God will give us as much time as possible to be together and be thankful for all the time we are granted. I will ensure that Z and his Nana get their time together. Most of all, I will continue to give God the glory for all He has done for us and remember that all gifts are from Him.

For now, it is time to spend the next 60 minutes or so building a mega block birdhouse.

The dulcet tones..

...of an almost 3-year-old fill the house tonight. He is learning to compose music on a plastic shopping cart while attempting to sing in tune. He has found "drumsticks," and he is proceeding to beat on every surface of our home. There is only quiet in my home when he is asleep or has just woken up. And I have to tell you: I LOVE IT!

From his curly head to his above-average feet, he is everything I have ever wanted in a child. He makes up songs as he goes along. He still sometimes speaks in gibberish that only he understands, while trying to convince you that you have to know what he wants. He tries to get the non-fuzzy green bunnies to come out from under the bush where they are hiding because they are scared. He kisses the boo-boos on everyone in the house (some of which he creates) and offers the BEST cuddles (one of which was just offered to me as I was typing this).

He is at times shy and soft, at others loud and rough. He is me at home and his dad in public. He knows the rules and follows them, sometimes. When asked if he is Mommy's Boy, the answer is always a resounding "uh-huh." He usually remembers to say please and thank you. He lives for chicken and "cheese" fries (which do not actually contain cheese). I try to convince him that it is time to go to bed, and he thinks it's time for another round of Fireman Sam. My son is teaching me so much. I learn patience from him. I am normally getting that lesson at 7:05 am when we are running late, and he wants to unlock the car door. I get that lesson when he is saying "Mom" for the seven-thousand, three hundred, forty-second time. We are learning together, and that is definitely the best part!

As I look at him, I wonder how in the world I have been so lucky. What is it that I did in my life that was so deserving of a reward that God gifted me with this child? Whatever it is, I will not question it too deeply and continue to thank Him for the gift.