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My wish for you

If you were to ask me what my favorite genre of music was, I would not give you a straight answer. I don’t really have one. My music tastes are complicated.

I’m a lyrics gal. Words move me, which should come as a surprise to absolutely no one. I suppose I could say I love rock and roll, but not all of it. I don’t care for screaming guitar music. So, riddle me this: How is it that someone who’s a lyrics gal that doesn’t care for screaming guitar music would list as one of her favorite songs of all time Always with Me, Always with You by Joe Satriani? A song with no lyrics and plenty of screaming guitar?

See? Complicated.

If you were to ask me if there were any genres of music I didn’t like, two would come to mind. The first would be rap music. Then I would tell you that I love LL Cool J, and that I’ve probably logged hundreds of miles on the Stairmaster with his Mama Said Knock You Out CD blasting through my headphones.

I know. I’m a a riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma.

The other genre would be country music. For me, listening to country music is akin to eating gummy bears. A few are sweet and satisfying, but past a certain point I begin to feel nauseous and regret every having opened the bag. It’s strange, this repulsion I have for country music. Because some of the best stories in the world are penned by writers of country music. Most country songs are simple and honest. I should love country music, but I just don’t. Maybe there’s something lacking in me which makes me turn away from it. I’m not a fan of sappy love songs either, but the lyrics to Dan Hill’s “Sometimes When We Touch”–arguably the sappiest of all love songs–may hold the key to my feelings towards country music:

Sometimes when we touch, the honesty’s too much
And I have to close my eyes and hide

Maybe it’s just a little too honest for me at times. Maybe it stirs a longing in me that I know on some level will never be filled. Music has its own special power, and it affects each of us differently I suppose. The power of country music is that it sometimes makes me sad.

Having said all of that, there are some songs that sum up a sentiment better than our own feeble words ever could, and sometimes those songs are country songs. I heard this song on the radio the other day, not for the first time, but perhaps for the first time, I really heard its message.

This is my wish for you. At Christmas, and always.

Merry Christmas.

At least you’re not Dwayne

Confession time. I’ve been a bit consumed by the political process lately. But rather than write about it and risk offending some or possibly most of you, I think I’ll just keep my discourse to myself. For now.

In the meantime, while we can probably always find SOMETHING to complain about, this old post reminded me that if nothing else, at least I’m not Dwayne…

Anne Geddes image courtesy of photobucket.com

I was recently the recipient of one of those emails that your sweet Aunt Martha tends to forward to you.

You know the ones I’m talking about.

Those emails that have been forwarded so often and to so many recipients that you have to scroll down half the page before getting to the body of the email, only to find that much of the body is filled with cute pictures of babies dressed as flowers and/or those annoying flashing emoticons?

I’ll be honest. I usually delete these emails unread. But for whatever reason, I was feeling generous and decided to read it. You’ve probably read it before, or one very much like it. It was one of those well intentioned object lessons which are supposed to make us count our blessings and be grateful for what we have:

To realize
The value of a sister/brother
Ask someone
Who doesn’t have one.

To realize
The value of ten years:
Ask a newly
Divorced couple.

To realize
The value of four years:
Ask a graduate.

To realize
The value of one year:
Ask a student who
Has failed a final exam…

That’s just a portion of it, but you get the idea: Maybe things aren’t as bad as you think, because someone has always got bigger problems than you do.

I’m not a big fan of this kind of reasoning. Mostly because for me, there’s just something inherently wrong with making yourself feel better because someone is eating a bigger crap sandwich than you are.

Comparing ourselves with others–whether their lives are easier or harder–is never a good idea. If you’re struggling, rest assured there are others who are also struggling. Life is a series of peaks and valleys, and while no two life experiences are identical, we all have our share of high and low points.

Sometimes life is savored and enjoyed.

Other times it feels like an act of endurance.

And even though I just finished telling you that comparing yourself to others is never a good idea, I’m about to ask you to do just that.

Because on my very worst day, I could have honestly said,

“At least I’m not Dwayne.”

Editor’s Note: I may or may not have written that entire introduction just so I could post the above commercial.


“Man, that thing does not like Dwayne.”

Snort!

#SnowDayBook day!

FINALLY! You ever felt like time has flown and dragged on forever at the same time? That’s sort of the way I’ve felt since I found out Snow Day was going to be published–especially that brief period of time when I had to keep my big, fat mouth shut about it. But I did, so anything’s possible. Billy has written a perfectly eloquent allegory about today. I invite you to hop on over and read it: Message in a Bottle

And then come back here and watch the video, which will make more sense. Or not…but it’s been in my head ever since I read the post…

The wonderful folks at Faith Words have been kind enough to throw Billy an online party to celebrate the official release of Snow Day. Hope to see you there sometime today!

Visit their Facebook page here.
And follow them on Twitter here
Watch for the #SnowDayBook hash tag on Twitter for updates, trivia, giveaways and more surprises.
Updates will also be posted on Billy’s new Facebook page here.

Message in a bottle (performed by The Police)
Just a castaway, an island lost at sea, oh
Another lonely day, with no one here but me, oh
More loneliness than any man could bear
Rescue me before I fall into despair, oh

I’ll send an S.O.S. to the world
I’ll send an S.O.S. to the world
I hope that someone gets my
I hope that someone gets my
I hope that someone gets my
Message in a bottle, yeah
Message in a bottle, yeah

A year has passed since I wrote my note
But I should have known this right from the start
Only hope can keep me together
Love can mend your life but
Love can break your heart

I’ll send an S.O.S. to the world
I’ll send an S.O.S. to the world
I hope that someone gets my
I hope that someone gets my
I hope that someone gets my
Message in a bottle, yeah
Message in a bottle, yeah
Message in a bottle, yeah
Message in a bottle, yeah

Walked out this morning, don’t believe what I saw
Hundred billion bottles washed up on the shore
Seems I’m not alone in being alone
Hundred billion castaways, looking for a home

I’ll send an S.O.S. to the world
I’ll send an S.O.S. to the world
I hope that someone gets my
I hope that someone gets my
I hope that someone gets my
Message in a bottle, yeah
Message in a bottle, yeah
Message in a bottle, yeah
Message in a bottle, yeah

Sending out at an S.O.S.
Sending out at an S.O.S.
Sending out at an S.O.S.
Sending out at an S.O.S.
Sending out at an S.O.S.
Sending out at an S.O.S…

Love Bugs: Herbie – good/Plecia nearctica – NOT GOOD!

Let me begin this post with a disclaimer:
I am blessed. I have absolutely nothing to complain about. I serve a righteous and merciful God. I enjoy good health, a great husband and kids, a wonderful circle of family and friends and am not in want of any material possessions. I choose to work as a painter because I love what I do, but the family finances do not depend on what I make from my “projects”. (And for that, I am VERY grateful!) Add to this bucket load of blessing, this blog has now been read on every continent around the world except Antarctica. An observation that is simultaneously humbling and completely baffling.
As an American citizen, I enjoy privileges and luxuries that I know I take for granted. I know that many brave men and women have sacrificed their very lives protecting the freedoms that so many of us take for granted; that people devote their entire lives in an effort to improve the lives of the communities and the country they live in by choosing to educate our children, defend the marginalized in society, fight injustices, and serve the public in numerous ways.
I will repeat my earlier statement: I have absolutely nothing to complain about. (I bet you know where this is going.) With all the real tragedy and heartache in the world, why would I waste a blog post writing about a little bug? (which technically really isn’t officially a bug.) Because I’m an American, and we like to complain about stuff. So please forgive me. I need to vent…

First, a little background courtesy of our friends at Wikipedia:

Upon reaching maturity the lovebug spends almost the entirety of its life copulating with its mate, hence its numerous romantic nicknames. The male and female attach themselves at the rear of the abdomen and remain that way at all times, even in flight. In fact, after mating, the male dies and is dragged around by the female until she lays her eggs. Females lay up to 350 eggs in debris, and about 20 days later the eggs hatch into larvae. The larvae may live for months before passing into adulthood.
Lovebug flights can number in the hundreds of thousands. The slow, drifting movement of the insects is almost reminiscent of snow fall. The flights occur twice each year, first in late spring, then again in late summer. The spring flight occurs during late April and May. The summer flight occurs during late August and September. Flights extend over periods of 4 to 5 weeks.
Its reputation as a public nuisance is due not to its bite or sting (as it is not capable of either), but to its slightly acidic body chemistry. Because airborne lovebugs can exist in enormous numbers near highways, they die en masse on automobile windshields, hoods, and radiator grills when the vehicles travel at high speeds. If left for more than an hour or two, the remains become dried and extremely difficult to remove. In the past, the acidity of the dead adult body, especially the female’s egg masses, often resulted in pits and etches in automotive paint and chrome if not quickly removed. However, advances in automotive paints and protective coatings have reduced this threat significantly. Now the greatest concern is excessive clogging of vehicle radiator air passages with the bodies of the adults, with the reduction of the cooling effect on engines, and the obstruction of windshields when the remains of the adults and egg masses are smeared on the glass.

The reason I haven’t been writing much lately is because I’ve been systematically clearing out and cleaning up my house — inside and out. Without a doubt, the biggest job so far has been our garage.
The hardest part was getting started. Once I took the plunge, it was quite liberating to get rid of so much junk just taking up space. I didn’t count them, but I took at least 20 gallons (probably more) of paint to a recycling center. I also swept down enough spider webs to knit the world’s largest scarf and matching mittens. (If I could knit and/or you could actually use spider webs to do so.*) After 4 days and countless hours of filthy, dirty work, the result was the sense of accomplishment I felt when I stood back and looked at my newly clean and organized garage…
I left the door open, went inside to wash the filth off of me, and came back out to find HUNDREDS OF DEAD LOVE BUGS EVERYWHERE!!!!! (punk bugs!) I swept them away, only to find the same scenario a couple of hours later. Added to my frustration is the fact that I have two chairs and a vanity set that need to be painted, but I can’t until the swarm is over, because those stupid bugs will throw themselves willingly onto the wet paint and die. I got a call from a lady today that wants me to refinish a coffee table for her. She asked me how long it would take to complete the project. When I told her I didn’t know, she hesitated. My follow up answer was two words: Love bugs. “Oh, right”, she answered. She must be from here…
*If you can, in fact, knit a scarf out of spider webs, please don’t tell me… There are some things I’d just rather not know about.

Overwhelmed

5Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near. 6Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. 7And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. (Philippians 4:5-7)

So, I’ve been feeling anxious lately. Perhaps a better term would be overwhelmed. There is much to do. Time and time again, I find myself searching out this particular passage, but just as often, I ignore God’s words. Perhaps my biggest struggle is time management. It would be romantic to say that I like to live in the moment. Reality reveals a less flattering picture. Here’s my confession: I am incredibly undisciplined. When I want to do something, I do it very well. When my heart is in it, I know that the end product will most likely be very good. I love “special projects”. Things that take me away from the daily grind; and I’ve had many such projects lately. The problem is, everything that encompasses my daily grind world tends to suffer. This includes my husband, my kids, my home, and most importantly, my time with God.

Do you struggle with this? I don’t have any great revelation or suggestions on how to overcome this particular flaw in my character. I only know that, as I’ve said before, it boils down to dying to ourselves and our selfish desires, taking up our crosses on a DAILY basis, and truly following him. May you be blessed to feel His presence in your life today.