Fun Friday

In the interest of lighting up your week and making you smile all weekend, I compiled a list of things to do in an elevator. Have fun, and let me know if you actually do one of these!

Blow your nose and offer to show the contents of your kleenex to other passengers.

Grimace painfully while smacking your forehead and muttering: Shut up, all of you just shut UP!

Whistle the first seven notes of It's a Small World incessantly.

Crack open your briefcase or purse, and while peering inside ask: Got enough air in there?

Offer name tags to everyone getting on the elevator. Wear yours upside-down.

Stand silent and motionless in the corner, facing the wall, without getting off.

When arriving at your floor, grunt and strain to yank the doors open, then act embarrassed when they open by themselves.

Lean over to another passenger and whisper: Noogie patrol coming!

Greet everyone getting on the elevator with a warm handshake and ask them to call you Admiral.

On the highest floor, hold the door open and demand that it stay open until you hear the penny you dropped down the shaft go plink at the bottom.

Stare, grinning, at another passenger for a while, and then announce: I've got new socks on!

When at least 8 people have boarded, moan from the back: Oh, not now, blasted motion sickness!

Meow occasionally.

Bet the other passengers you can fit a quarter in your nose.

Frown and mutter gotta go, gotta go then sigh and say oops!

Show other passengers a wound and ask if it looks infected.

Sing Mary had a little lamb while continually pushing buttons.

Holler Chutes away! whenever the elevator descends.

Walk on with a cooler that says human head on the side.

Stare at another passenger for a while, then announce You're one of THEM! and move to the far corner of the elevator.

Burp, and then say mmmm...tasty!

Wear a puppet on your hand and talk to other passengers through it.

Start a sing-along.

When the elevator is silent, look around and ask is that your beeper?

Play the harmonica.

Shadow box.

Say Ding! at each floor.

Lean against the button panel.

Say I wonder what all these do and push the red buttons.

Listen to the elevator walls with a stethoscope.

Draw a little square on the floor with chalk and announce to the other passengers that this is your personal space.

Bring a chair along.

Take a bite of a sandwich and ask another passenger: Wanna see wha in muh mouf?

Blow spit bubbles.

Pull your gum out of your mouth in long strings.

Announce in a demonic voice: I must find a more suitable host body.

Carry a blanket and clutch it protectively.

Make explosion noises when anyone presses a button.

Stare at your thumb and say I think it's getting larger.

If anyone brushes against you, recoil and holler Bad touch!

Rest in Peace?

Two men died that day. One had lived twice as long as the other. The older one had accomplished much in life. The younger had barely started living. One was an icon. The other was barely known, even in his own hometown. Both followed in their family's footsteps. One had been married several times. He had children. The other hadn't experienced that much life yet. Both died before their parents did. One died alone. One was surrounded by friends. It took more than a week for either one to be buried. One died of causes that are not yet known. The other died instantly and everyone could see what took his life.

It's amazing really.

On June 25th, Michael Jackson died in his home. Some reports say he was alone, others say his doctor was with him. It is not yet known what caused his cardiac arrest, although it looks like drugs are a good possibility. Michael was fifty years old. He'd been married several times and had three children. He was in the family business of entertainment. He sold record numbers of recordings and videos and the whole world has mourned him. It was two weeks after his death before details were in place for his funeral and memorial service. And then the world sobbed as it said goodbye.

Brian Bradshaw also died on June 25th. Brian was a twenty-four year old young man from Steilacoom, Washington. Brian was a search and rescue volunteer, an altar boy and a camp counselor. He also followed in his family's footsteps. The only media coverage Brian's death got was from his home town.

Brian was something else as well. He was a Lieutenant. And he was kill in Afghanistan. Brian's mom was a retired army nurse, and his dad was a national guard helicopter pilot. Brian was described as having old-fashioned values. He believed that military service was patriotic and that actions counted more than talk. Brian died for his country. He died for freedom.

He died for Michael Jackson's freedom. You see, our military protect our freedoms every day. They protect this great country, where someone can rise to the top of the entertainment world, where they have the freedom to make as much money as they want to work at making. Where people have the freedom to devote themselves to something as temporal and fleeting as fame.

Brian died for Americans who devoted their time to mourning their fallen idol. Brian died so that we could be free to say that the most important thing in our life is mourning Michael Jackson.

It's really hard for me to wrap my head around the irony. Yes, I think the hoopla over Michael Jackson is too much. It's all out of proportion to the things in life that really count. Michael made a lot of money doing what he wanted to do. And yet, he possibly died trying to seek more relief and/or satisfaction from the easy access his status gave him to drugs that he shouldn't have been messing with.

Brian may not have been known or mourned by many. But I think in his twenty-four years, he accomplished more than Michael Jackson did. His death had meaning. More importantly, his life had meaning.

Can we get a little perspective here?

The Case of the Missing Groceries

I'm sure it comes as no surprise to you to find that food quickly disappears in our house. With five growing boys, they're almost always eating. Their standard greeting when I walk into a room is, "What's to eat?" They've been known to break into the groceries on the way home from the grocery store.
But that's not the only time groceries disappear. See, I usually buy groceries for a week at a time. I have a menu planned out of what I'm fixing that week. In spite of that, more than once I've gone to the pantry or the fridge only to find I'm missing one of the key ingredients I need. There's no longer grated cheddar cheese in the fridge, or the tortillas I bought for tacos have disappeared. I know the food was there. I remember buying it. I remember bringing it home and putting it away. I'm pretty sure I know what happened to it, but no one seems to "remember" where it went.
Occasionally I will buy something and not be able to find it the next day. It's especially odd if it's something that the boys won't actually eat. Like dish soap. I'll look high and low for it, but it's simply not there. After questioning all the boys and looking in odd places--like under the bathroom sinks--I'll finally find it. No, not under the sink. In the van. Sometimes there's a bag or two that gets missed when everyone is helping to bring groceries into the house. That's not too bad unless it turns out to be something perishable (which has happened once or twice.) If it's not in the van, then it is in some weird spot. Or it ends up sitting in a bag on my bedroom floor. Apparently when we're putting things away, if it doesn't go in the kitchen it goes in my room. Never mind if it's something I don't use, it ends up on my floor.
The worse case of missing groceries I ever had was when the fruit disappeared. This happened within just the last month, and it's still a mystery. I bought three containers of beautiful fruit at Sam's Club. Now, if you know anything at all about price clubs, you know that their packages are huge. You can't just misplace them. I bought a container of red grapes, a container of blueberries and a container of strawberries. Also at Sam's, when you check out they pull the stuff off the counter and put it in the basket for you. It's a little hard to misplace something or leave it behind. Everything else I bought that day made it home without a problem. Even the huge bag of oranges made it home. But no one has seen the grapes or the berries since then. I know they're not in my fridge in the kitchen. I' even cleaned it out to make sure. No fruit. We have a second refrigerator in the garage. There's no fruit there either. It didn't end up in the freezer by accident. The fruit has simply disappeared.
I know the boys didn't eat it. No one could have eaten that much fruit and not paid a major price. It simply disappeared. And I'm pretty sure it wasn't left in the van. I think we would have smelled it by now. The fruit just disappeared.
Now when I'm trying to eat healthy, why does the fruit disappear? Why can't the ice cream disappear instead?

Bequeathing

Yesterday I looked death in the face. I stood nose to nose with my own mortality. I contemplated the end of my life under solemn and grave circumstances.

Yesterday I signed my Last Will and Testament.

It's the responsible thing to do. And it's not actually the first time we've done this. But it has been a while since Terry and I last did our wills and some things have changed since then. Like, for instance, the number of our children. So it was time to make new wills. We actually started discussing this last month after a visit with a financial planner. We learned several important things during that visit. Such as the fact that we will never have enough money to retire and that we are worth very little presently. Neither of those facts were very surprising.

The financial planner also said he would strongly suggest we update our wills. He gave us forms to fill our with regard to our preferences and wishes and told us to send them back when they were done. Since we don't have that much stuff to dispose of you wouldn't think these things would take much decisions. But there were a few details to consider. Like the disposition of our underage children. I mean, we love them, but not everyone we know would want to take in four lively boys.

We also had the "durable" problem. You know, the durable power of attorney, the durable power of attorney for assets, the durable power of attorney for health care. The living will. It's so complicated. Who's going to take care of our stuff and who's going to take care of our kids and who's going to take care of us. Matthew's twenty, but that's still a lot to put on him. So we ended up putting the kids' guardians in charge of everything for the good of the kids. Matt gets the job if something happens to the guardians.

Matt had a few questions when we told him. Terry explained the durable power of attorney over healthcare and the living will as succinctly as possible. His basic explanation? "The longer you leave us plugged in, the more money it will cost." I was touched by the sentiment.

Our belongings were another problem. Not that we have tons of stuff, but some of it is special to the kids. The way things are set up, the guardians have control of everything for the purpose of taking care of the kids. Matt wasn't sure he liked that. After all, there are some things he didn't want to ever lose. Like his father's firearm collection. And the mounted deer heads on our wall. Important stuff. We finally convinced him that this was where trust came in. If we could trust the guardians with our kids, we could trust them to do what's best for all of them. We could trust them to respect our wishes and the feelings of our children when it came to using or selling our worldly goods. I did find it curious that Matthew wanted his dad's things, but didn't seem to need any reminder that I had ever inhabited the earth.

And so we spent almost an hour yesterday afternoon going through all the paperwork and signing our names in numerous places. The last time we signed that many papers we walked away with a house. This time we were just signing so people know what to do with the house once we're gone. It was a little depressing. But you know what? I've known for a long time that we weren't going to leave much materially. What's far more important to me is that we leave our children with a strong sense of character. That we equip them with the knowledge and talents they will need to serve the Lord with all their heart and soul and mind. If they live their lives for Him, that will be the best legacy we could ever leave behind us.

Even so, would it kill them to ask for one small item of mine to keep as a remembrance? It doesn't have to be a "girly" item. After all, I have firearms too.

Unable To See The Forest For The Trees

I went to college because I was supposed to. And because I was supposed to find a husband. Not that I was actually told that, but the implication was there. I was supposed to grow, learn, mature ... and get my MRS degree because that's what good Christian girls did. My only problem? I was rather shy. And awkward. And the times I came out of my shell I inevitably did it the wrong way or at the wrong time. But I was nothing if not a dutiful daughter, so I battled homesickness and fear of all things new and entered Bible college two weeks after turning eighteen. I haphazardly picked out my major and my first semester classes since I wasn't planning on being there a full four years anyway. I went to the same college as my two older sisters, but that was as far as I wanted to follow in their footsteps. They both chose teaching majors. No way. I wasn't particularly fond of children (yes, I see the irony now that I'm a mother of six!) and I didn't want to even pretend that I would be teaching a roomful of them for the rest of my life. I chose a secretarial major and a home economics minor. That way I could be well trained for the pastor I would eventually marry. He would finish his college education (I, of course, wouldn't need to finish mine once I found a husband) and then we would settle into a small church. It would grow over the years and I would do pastor's wife-ly things such as play the piano, do all my husband's secretarial work and cook amazing meals.

I've always been into fiction.

There was another area where I didn't want to follow in my sisters' footsteps. They took forever to find husbands. One of them went to college a whole three years before getting married. And she was older when she started college! She turned twenty-three before she got married. For my other sister, it was even worse. She actually finished college with no prospects in sight. She didn't get married until she was twenty-five. I had no desire to dawdle around like they did. I wasn't boy-crazy, but getting married was the next thing to do in the process of growing up. I saw no reason to take my time.

I even had a mental list of attributes that I was looking for in a mate. He had to be a Christian, of course. Called to full time Christian service and he had to be tall. Yep, that's what I was looking for in a life mate. See, I'm 5'7" and I like to wear heels. I wanted someone at least 6' tall so that no matter what kind of shoes I wore, my husband would be adequately taller than me. I tell you, I had depth.

So, armed with this list of qualifications, I headed off to college and started looking. And I found him the first week of school. A friend of my sister's introduced me to a freshman from her home church in Connecticut. I looked up. And up. And up. This guy was 6'8". And he was cute. I had found my soul mate. I couldn't wait until he realized it too.

To read part 2, click here.

This post is part of a Meetings, Marriages, and Memories carnival at Musings of a Future Pastor’s Wife. For more stories of romance or to tell your own, go visit!

True Patriotism

As everyone is gearing up for the holiday weekend, I want to ask you a question. How patriotic are you? What makes a true patriot?
This weekend there will a lot of flag-waving, fireworks and red, white and blue. Patriot songs will be song. Hotdogs will be eaten. Families will get together. That's all great stuff. And it is typical American celebrating. But are we patriots because we do these things?
I think that anyone that serves in the armed forces is a patriot. Fighting for your country is patriotic. Having a deep, abiding love for and pride in your country is patriotic.
All of us can love our country. Not all of us can serve in the armed forces. It's patriotic to help and support our troops. Sending care packages, praying for them, respecting and honoring them--that's patriotic.
But there are some other ways we can be patriotic as well. These ways may be less obvious, but they are just as important when it comes to being patriotic.
The first is to take part in our government. You don't have to run for office, but you should know who is running. You should know where they stand on the issues. And you should know what the issues are. You should vote every time you have the opportunity. but even that's not enough. You need to follow up with the issues. You need to write and call your Senators and Representatives to make sure they know your views and that they are making good on the promises that got them elected in the first place. This may seem like a daunting task. I would say to you that we get the kind of government we deserve. We don't elect officials to run the government. We elect them to represent us. But how can they if they don't know what we want? What we believe? This has always been our responsibility as citizens, but now it's never been easier to keep up with this. If you have Internet access (and if you're reading this blog, obviously you do) then you can research all the information you need to know. Start with this great resource. The Heritage Foundation is a conservative think tank. Their site is full of all sorts of research and information that informed citizens need.
In addition to being an active, informed citizen, there's another step you need to take as a patriot. You need to know our history. (Shame on you if your eyes glazed over when you read that word!) How can you know where you're going if you don't know where you came from? Those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it. This is true in so many ways, and I'll give you one very basic example. World War II happened, in part, because the rest of the world capitulated to Hitler. Hitler made demands and the world caved because they thought if they could just appease him enough, there would not be war. Only too late did they realize that Hitler would never be placated. What's worse, during all the time the world was giving in, Hitler was strengthening himself and his army into a formidable foe. By the time the war was inevitable, the rest of the world had made their enemy, Hitler, much stronger. And much harder to defeat.
How is this similar to today? The radical muslim population of the world is making demands. They are issuing threats. And instead of standing firm and telling them "NO!", the world seeks to appease them. Our leaders seem to believe that if we only give in to what they want (say, Palestine, for example) the radical terrorists will be happy and we can all live in peace. It didn't work with Hitler. But we are dooming ourselves to repeat history.
Not only that, but our President has recently openly declared that we are not a Christian nation. Truthfully, we're not anymore. But we were. This country was built on Biblical principals, no matter how much some people would like to deny that fact. If you want to know more about our beginnings (and you should!) here's another great place to find the truth. David Barton has done an incredible series on our country's beginnings. It's well done, incredibly interesting, and very informative. As an American, and as a patriot, you need to know this information.
In addition to knowing our history, you need to to teach it to your children. Don't rely on the schools (public or private) to do this. Teach them about our roots. Show them why it's important. Don't just tell them. Show them. If there's historical places to visit near you, your children need to see them. When we're gone, our children will have to take up the mantle of being concerned, involved citizens. The time is now to teach them why this is important.
There's one final area that makes a true patriot. If you believe in your country, if you love it and want what's best for it, you'll do your best to reach it. We were founded as a Christian nation, but today Christians, true Bible-believing Christians, are in the minority. Reach out to your fellow Americans and tell them about Jesus. If you're not comfortable sharing the Gospel, you can find some resources to help you. David Wood Ministries has a wonderful soul winning program called Operation Go. Go to their website and click on the church growth link to find their Operation Go program. If everyone who is a born again Christian would lead one American to the Lord, this country would become a Christian nation again in no time.
As you enjoy the fireworks and the family this weekend, purpose in your heart to be a true patriot.
Happy Fourth of July!

P.S. I'm sorry to be a day late posting this. Internet problems!

Grocery Store Commentary

I love Peanuts cartoons. Some of my favorites had to do with Snoopy and his incredible imagination. He was never "just" anything; he was always the "world famous" whatever he was pretending to be. There were a series of cartoons where he was the world famous grocery store clerk. He put on an apron, stood on top of his dog house and pretending to be a cashier, checking people out at the grocery store. As he pretended to move items along the checkout counter, he'd run through prices in his brain: "hotdogs, $1.99. Milk, $2.13 ..." Occasionally he'd stop and call out for a price check. He'd greet pretend customers as if he'd known them a long time. And once in a while, he'd comment on their purchases.
I was thinking about those old cartoons this week while I was at the grocery store. You know, your groceries do talk. What you have in your cart says something about who you are. I know this for a fact because people have commented to me on what my groceries are saying to them.
I've mentioned before that I have a large family. It's pretty rare that I leave Walmart with less than a full cart. Occasionally I will have an overflowing cart. I do my best to grocery shop once a week. We consume a lot of groceries. As I push my very full cart through the store I've had people comment that I must be feeding an army. (Almost.) Or that I'm stocking up. (Not as much as you'd think.) I've even had people ask me where I found an item that I have in my cart. I've directed more than one person through the store.
The funny thing is, I would never dream of looking in someone else's cart. That's kind of like staring into another woman's purse. She may be digging for something in her purse and stuff maybe sticking out the top, but I would never stare. It's too personal. So I'm trying to decide if people are crossing my personal line because of the amount of stuff in my cart or because I look like I wouldn't mind.
I almost always get comments from the people standing behind me in line. Everything from, "Wow! That's a lot of milk!" (We usually go through 4-6 gallons a week) to "How much do you spend on groceries?" Yes, I've actually had someone ask me that. (I didn't answer. None of her business.)
Even the cashiers get into the comment game. I don't mind the comments on what a good sale they're having on tissues right now. Or how much they love that particular cereal that I'm buying. But I don't want anything much more personal than that. Think about it. Would you want a running commentary on everything you've bought at the store? Especially when you have personal items up there. It's none of their business if I'm buying zit cream, pads or tampons.
The strangest thing is, no matter how personal their comments, if I take offense, I'm the one with the problem. I'm expected to stand there and smile and take it. Well, there's always ways to get around that. I can start commenting on whatever is in their basket. But that goes against my grain. So I think what I'm going to do is start buying a couple of Midol, Pamprin and other assorted medications of that type. The biggest bottles of medicine they have. Every. time. Anyone seeing that sitting on the counter should know better than to bother me with silly questions or comments on my grocery buying habits. It's almost as good as putting up a No Trespassing sign. Except slightly more subtle.
What do you think? Am I the only one this happens to? Have you got any other creative ways of solving the problem?

Tomorrow's Post: Patriotism is underrated.