Katdish.net

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Sexist I’m not, though I must admit I believe there are a few things men have a firmer handle on than women. Just a few, mind you.

Chief among these is the proper handling of the television remote control. This is most likely due to an almost childlike ignorance concerning its proper function on the part of the female. The remote is not used to simply turn the channel or adjust the volume. It’s purpose is much more intricate–to obtain an overall grasp of station selections, striking an elegant balance between quality viewing and commercial evasion. Or, in more simplistic terms, to channel surf.

My wife has long abandoned any hope of holding the remote control. Not that I do not trust her with it. But watching her use it is painful to me in the way that a composer would be pained by watching a hillbilly use a Stradivarius. It is a skill, the handling of a remote. Something that cannot be taught but must be inborn.

Over the past few weeks, however, an insurrection has begun over our family’s remote control. One led not by my wife. Not even by my son.

By my daughter.

It began innocently enough. I walked into the living room one evening and found her on the sofa and the remote on the ottoman. During a commercial break on her favorite cartoon, I decided to see what else was on. When I reached for the remote, however, I found a hand already there. Hers.

The ensuing standoff was both temporary and bloodless, and my Alpha role within the family remained intact. But as these remote control battles increased in frequency, I began to lose a bit of face. The last one, yesterday, ended in a tickle fight that was only broken up with my son whopping me with a pillow.

I’ll be honest here. I really don’t understand the whole remote control thing. I don’t really know why it must be in my hands and no one else’s. I am not a callous snob. I will gladly watch what my family wants. But I must be the one to turn the channel.

True, there is a certain amount of power involved in the remote. Those buttons are alluring. I have a control over the television that is not offered in my life. Possibilities that are difficult at least and impossible at best.

Zoom, for instance. With a push of a button, my remote will enlarge a certain area of my screen and bring greater detail to the larger picture. The ramifications are enormous. I have outwitted both Shawn Spencer on Psych and the dude in the vest on The Mentalist by the careful manipulation of that button. I don’t miss anything. Which is quite unlike my own life, in which I miss too much.

And there is the Swap button. A wonderful feature that lets me instantly trade what I’m seeing for something else. Easy on my remote. Harder in my reality.

The Exit button is even more handy, enabling me to quickly escape from a screen I have no idea how I managed to get to. The Exit button works wonders for me when it comes to the television. Not in life, though. Most of the time I have to find my own way out of all the self-inflicted confusion.

I would also like to have Pause, Rewind, and Fast Forward buttons in my life, just so I could take a break or try something again or skip over the parts I don’t like.

Play, too, would be a necessary function. I would like more play in my life.

That, I think, is why I’m so passionate about the remote. And if you’re honest, I don’t think you can blame me. Because no matter who you are, we all want a little more control over our lives.

I will say, however, that there I have one function in my life that is much better than its counterpart on my remote control: the Guide button. A push of that button and I know how to navigate around on my television. Handy.

But handier is the Guide in my life, the One who can navigate me through all of those parts in my life I would like to skip over or redo or exit. The One who can help me zoom in on what needs to be seen.

And Who can help me swap earth for heaven.

***

To read more from Billy Coffey, visit him at at his website and follow him on the twitter at @billycoffey.

“I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” ~ John 16:33

“My command is this: Love each other as I have loved you. Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends. You are my friends if you do what I command. I no longer call you servants, because a servant does not know his master’s business. Instead, I have called you friends, for everything that I learned from my Father I have made known to you. You did not choose me, but I chose you and appointed you to go and bear fruit—fruit that will last. Then the Father will give you whatever you ask in my name. This is my command: Love each other. ~ John 15: 12-17

In this proud land we grew up strong
We were wanted all along
I was taught to fight, taught to win
I never thought I could fail

No fight left or so it seems
I am a man whose dreams have all deserted
I’ve changed my face, I’ve changed my name
But no one wants you when you lose

Don’t give up
‘cos you have friends
Don’t give up
You’re not beaten yet
Don’t give up
I know you can make it good

Though I saw it all around
Never thought I could be affected
Thought that we’d be the last to go
It is so strange the way things turn

Drove the night toward my home
The place that I was born, on the lakeside
As daylight broke, I saw the earth
The trees had burned down to the ground

Don’t give up
You still have us
Don’t give up
We don’t need much of anything
Don’t give up
’cause somewhere there’s a place
Where we belong

Rest your head
You worry too much
It’s going to be alright
When times get rough
You can fall back on us
Don’t give up
Please don’t give up

‘got to walk out of here
I can’t take anymore
Going to stand on that bridge
Keep my eyes down below
Whatever may come
And whatever may go
That river’s flowing
That river’s flowing

Moved on to another town
Tried hard to settle down
For every job, so many men
So many men no-one needs

Don’t give up
’cause you have friends
Don’t give up
You’re not the only one
Don’t give up
No reason to be ashamed
Don’t give up
You still have us
Don’t give up now
We’re proud of who you are
Don’t give up
You know it’s never been easy
Don’t give up
’cause I believe there’s the a place
There’s a place where we belong

***

P.S. – A VERY Happy Birthday to my friend Sarah Salter! Enjoy your day, and don’t do anything I wouldn’t! (Which pretty much leaves things wide open…)

Okay, peeps – I’m changing things up a bit. I’ve decided to move the twitter update to Saturday. Why? Oh, just because I felt like it. Actually, I’d like to do a bit more “actual writing” here during the week. We’ll see how it plays out.

I received some very exciting news yesterday. (Actually, two exciting announcements in one day). I’ll share one of them next week, but the other I still have to keep mum about for a bit longer. Dang it.

But for now, here’s the best of me (or not) on the twitter:

@Nick_theGeek Sorry, but no. But AHHHH! (in reply to Nick_theGeek @katdish not even with me?)

AHHHHHHHHH!!!!!! I’m excited about something. But sorry, can’t share.

The Church of No People blog is like the giant jar of cheez whiz to my computer’s intestinal system. Wuddup with that?

@redclaydiaries Sorry/you’re welcome (in reply to redclaydiaries @katdish TOO MUCH INFORMATION. I need to go scrub my brain.)

I suppose I should get a seat cozy for my vinyl chair ~ RT @billycoffey: Why you must write naked ~ http://bit.ly/b6n01q

@Helenatrandom Snort! “Twitter Ho Tweets” Sounds like some kind of Little Debbie product by Sylvester the Cat.

@sarahmsalter Sitting here thinking I should probably eat breakfast, but don’t feel like getting up. Devastating laziness strikes again.

@billycoffey It was, huh? (in reply to billycoffey @katdish That was bloody brilliant!)

Two, two…Two tweets in one!

If you suffer from Fatassitosis, http://bit.ly/dvuVKe perhaps you should not write naked http://bit.ly/aK4etP

Including, but not limited to Kadonkadonk, Badonkadonk, and Fatassistosis.

Disclaimer: Any and all comments left of my blog, Hey Look a Chicken, may be used in part or in their entirety as future blog fodder.

RT @christomlinson_: “Chris Tomlinson: He doesn’t make me want to vomit.” by @katdish. Grace comes in many forms. http://ow.ly/11wFi

@makeadiff21 You’re asking ME what constitutes normal? You should probably go lay down. (in reply to makeadiff21 @katdish That isn’t normal?? Oh, please tell me that’s normal.)

Sigh…How is it that I’ve been busy all day and feel like I’ve gotten nothing accomplished?

@marni71 I sometimes write my posts in wing dings. Just because… (in reply to marni71 @prodigaljohn Verdana is holier. Just sayin…)

@bryanallain Did you want his cell number? (in reply to bryanallain I’m thinking about interviewing Steve Jobs for my blog. Not a possibility of course, but I’m thinking about it anyway.)

@sarahmsalter Oh, I can’t define crap, I just know it when I see it. (in reply to sarahmsalter @katdish See, you have to define “crap.” ‘Cuz I’m afraid to send you ANYthing.)

@sarahmsalter Yes. I’m anti-crap. (in reply to sarahmsalter @katdish Oh, yes. I admit this. You know when something’s good and when something’s crap. It’s your spiritual gift.)

@sarahmsalter Yes, but you must admit that a katdish endorsement is kind of a big deal… (in reply to sarahmsalter @billycoffey I don’t need @katdish to vouch for your post, Dude. They stand on their own & prove themselves.)

I’m here! Commence the celebrations

Good Morning! My dog is having an emotional breakdown. I put his (nasty, gross) dog bed in the washing machine.

@myreallips Or a steel trap. One of those…

@myreallips Because I have a mind like a steal trap. (in reply to marni71 @buzzbyannies GAAAA! I thought I told ya’ll. How does @katdish know but not the rest of you? I have a complex now.)

@myreallips OOSTA! (in reply to marni71 @sarahmsalter @br8kthru I just like that @Nick_theGeek changed his, so I changed mine. And the story behind it will make @katdish laugh.)

RT @ryanmer: Only 15 minutes until Steve Jobs announces something I can’t afford, don’t need, and absolutely want.

@DueFriday Nobody beats Jack Bauer (except maybe @billycoffey) (in reply to DueFriday RT @DavidBGoddard The new Apple tablet is rumored to beat Kindle, cancer, Jack Bauer, Chuck Norris & fix the world trade deficit with China.)

I don’t think so. Homey don’t play that.

So now, if I don’t send this heart out to him and everyone else and someone dies, THAT’S ON MY HEAD?

UGH! My dad always sends me these email forwards. Today’s: “Give this heart to everyone you don’t want to lose in 2010”.

Is it just me, or does the Russian boss on 24 look like @badbanana?

@redclaydiaries @Nick_theGeek I’m talking to everyone, because everyone cares.

@katdish Also? I bought space bags today. 20-30 stuffed animals will now fit neatly into the attic.

@sarahmsalter Bribery & ultimatims. The cornerstone of parenting.

@Nick_theGeek Why yes. Yes I am. (in reply to Nick_theGeek @katdish ru painting a big monkey butt on ur daughter’s wall?)

I tell my daughter “I want everything off the floor” and I can’t really fault her for not following instructions. http://twitpic.com/zrwx8

@mylestones Sort of like when my daughter used to tell me all the time, “Mommy, please stop talking to me.”

RT @mylestones: I asked my 5yo son how he would feel about doing school at home & me being his teacher. His one word response: “Bad.”

@amysorrells That’s called a vurp. (in reply to amysorrells Just turned in passport application. It felt…terrifying…and epic. I think I only threw up a little bit in my mouth, as they say.)

@joannamuses Oh man. I’d have all kinds of awards. (in reply to joannamuses if only society considered being an excellent procrastinator an achievement)

@Nick_theGeek Red Man as in the tobacco, not Native Americans. Just to be clear. (Not that there’s anything wrong with that)

@Nick_theGeek Ah yes. The list of tax deductions is growing. Wonder if I should take up a Red Man habit.(in reply to Nick_theGeek @katdish u should look n2 a tax deduction 4 ur cable bill …)

Watching Hillbilly: The Real Story on The History Channel (client research)

@kristaphillips Ah the beauty of the store is it has both. I think I’ve said No about 15 times. (in reply to kristaphillips @katdish my daughter gravitates 2 that section the moment we enter the store. She’s supposed to want expensive clothes, not stupid crap!)

At Justice with my daughter. Land of crap she doesn’t need. http://twitpic.com/zfrdz

“I got kicked out of ballet class because I pulled a groin muscle. It wasn’t mine.” ~ Rita Rudner

@billycoffey I have a really good feeling about this one. I really do.

RT @billycoffey: Sent a copy of Snow Day to my hero of 25 years for a possible endorsement. Fingers crossed, prayers said.

Dear Person who left me a DM telling me you’re looking forward to my tweets. You’re not following me, goober.

@marni71 Snort! (in reply to marni71 RT @katdish: Sorry people! I’m busy CHANGING LIVES here!// that’s just a day job. Twitter is your ministry. Get your priorities straight.)

Sorry people! I’m busy CHANGING LIVES here!

@Babybloomr Yes, sort of a twirlyworld sisterhood. (in reply to Babybloomr @katdish I totally love your twirly world! I live in twirly world!)

Fave comment today: I had to unfollow you for a bit. The straight tweet world needed to be figured out. Your twirly world confused me…

@billycoffey Tell me something I don’t already know. (in reply to billycoffey @katdish Ah. That’s my normal.)

@togetherforgood I’m fairly incorrigible…

@billycoffey Tired/snarky/reality based. (in reply to billycoffey @katdish Was that snarky? Because that sounded snarky.)

@billycoffey Yes. It is morning isn’t it?

**Read this really fast in your head:
Katdishionary is the intellectual property of Steph at the Red Clay Diaries (hereinafter referred to as SOTRCD). Reference herein to any specific commercial product, process, service by trade name, trademark, manufacturer, or otherwise, does not constitute or imply its endorsement, recommendation, or favoring by SOTRCD or any entities thereof. The views and opinions of the originators expressed therein do not necessarily state or reflect those of the HLAC, SOTRCD, FOTTSP, TWSS or any agency or entities thereof.

Katdishionary – (pronounced ka-di-shun-ary)

Definition: A collection of made up words providing endless blog fodder.

Origin: comment from Steph at the Red Clay Diaries from the first installment of this never-ending series:

“I have to share a brainstorm that came to me in the car, on my way to Starbucks.

The Katdish Dictionary is a nice name for the service you’re providing. But a better name would be:

THE KATDISHIONARY.

You can pay me my standard branding fee later.”

(see also badgertastic)

Fatassitosis – (pronounced fat-as-si-to-sis)

Definition: A mutant strain of a virus scientists claim to have recently discovered. Their findings state that obesity can be “caught” as easily as a common cold from other people’s coughs, sneezes and dirty hands. The condition has been linked to a highly-infectious virus which causes sniffles and sore throats.

Origin: HLAC’s breaking news story – This just in: I’m not fat, I just have a butt cold!

Kadonkadonk (pronounced ka-don-ka-donk)

Definition: what Sherri’s butt says when she walks.

Origin: (see Fatassitosis)

Example: Sherri said: I’ve been a cold sufferer for years now.

Big AL calls mine the “mystery butt”. No one has seen it in years!!!!

Badonkadonk – (pronounced ba-don-ka-donk)

Definition: What Steph’s butt says when she walks.

Origin: (see also fatassitosis)

Example: Steph says: ANOTHER way we are alike. Only my butt says badonkadonk. My sister and I could both weigh next-to-nothing and still have lots of cushioning. My sister was once told by an African-American girl that her butt was awfully big for a white person’s.

Italian blood here too.

( ) ( ) ( )

Hmmm…That’s a considerable word count for a post about big butts. Kewl.

And now, let’s sing, shall we?

My mom and sister live about 20 minutes away from me in a gated community. Between social visits and dog and cat sitting, I’m over there quite a bit. Before my mom gave me a spare remote gate opener, I often felt the drive from my house to the front entrance of their neighborhood was only half the journey. Nowadays, I use the remote and I can enter through the back entrance. Once I gain access through this gate, their house is a mere two turns from my point of entry. It is truly a time and distance saver.

Contrast this to visiting before I had the remote. After pulling up to the main gate, I give the security guard my name, the address I would be visiting and my relationship to the resident. He or she writes down my license and make and model of my car, then phones the house and obtains permission for me to enter the subdivision.

Once through the main gate, I meander through the neighborhood towards the back where my sister’s house is located: left, left, right, left, left, right…A total of ten turns in all before I reach my final destination. Needless to say, I was grateful when my mom gave me the extra gate remote.

On my most recent visit, I again took the shortest route on my way in, but decided to take the long way back out. It’s been a long while since I took this route and I had forgotten all the sights on the way. There are beautiful homes of various styles ranging from southern colonial to Mediterranean splendor. There are small, man-made lakes with graceful fountains in their centers, beautiful landscaping and walking trails throughout. In the center of this community of homes is a large lake flanked on one side with a stacked rock cascading waterfall. It is home to several species of ducks and other water fowl. The stars of this aviary show are the graceful, white swans, which can be found here year round.

I decided to pull my car over and watch them for awhile. As I sat in my car, I thought back to the last time I had driven by this spot. Back then, there were four adult swans and six grey ducklings. I wondered if either of the two swans I saw today were once among the ugly ducklings I saw so many months ago.

I suppose I’ll never know for sure. Because while it’s true the shortest distance between two points is always a straight line, often the long way around is infinitely more interesting and educational.

To reward myself for taking the road less traveled, I got out of my car and chased all the ducks back into the lake. Cuz I’m mature like that…

A Massachusetts native, Michelle DeRusha moved to Nebraska in 2001, where she found gargantuan grasshoppers, looming grain elevators and God. She’s raising two rambunctious boys with her husband, Brad; works part-time for Nebraska public television and radio; launders Sponge Bob briefs on a regular basis; and writes about finding faith in the everyday on her blog Graceful and in a monthly column for the Lincoln Journal Star.

***

“The great revelation had never come. The great revelation perhaps never did come. Instead there were little daily miracles, illuminations, matches struck unexpectedly in the dark; here was one.” ~ Virginia Woolf

I’m always on the lookout for miracles. The Bible, I’ve noticed, teems with them. A raving lunatic witnesses his demons funnel into a herd of pigs. People rise from the dead and start doing jumping jacks. Peter slides across a roiling sea.

It’s not easy for me to choose blessings, miracles, over mere coincidence. In twenty years of “unbelief,” doubt became my natural, instinctive reaction. Doubt was my default. So choosing to see the blessing, the miracle, has had to become a conscious choice, one I make each day.

This fall as I was watering the garden I suddenly heard my son Noah yell: “Quick, Mommy! Come here! Come here! Hurry!” his voice urgent, pressing. I walked over to take a look.

Floating on a gentle current along the tops of the phlox was a most curious bug, a miniscule creature about a quarter the size of my pinkie nail. To me it looked like a thin shred of paper; the kids decided it resembled a teeny piece of Kleenex. The insect bobbed along the bee balm for a bit and then floated over to my sons, navigating its linty body between them, as if to take a closer look at their big bauble heads.

My youngest, Rowan, named the bug “Klee Klee,” the word he uses for Kleenex. We sat on the curb next to the flower garden and marveled at the insect as it gracefully inched its way over the mountainous folds of Rowan’s tee shirt, its snow-white wings wispy and ragged.

I would never have noticed this delicate creature of course, so bent on watering the drooping coneflower and deadheading the bee balm, wrenching the ivy’s suffocating grip off the phlox and pulling the weeds. But the kids insisted I look, squealing and bellowing so persistently I was forced to tune in, if only to quiet the racket.

And when I did I was overwhelmed with gratitude and awe.

In her book Expecting Adam, Martha Beck marvels over her son Adam’s uncanny ability to teach her a fresh way of seeing. “He is constantly reminding me that real magic doesn’t come from achieving the perfect appearance, from being Cinderella at the ball with both glass slippers and a killer hairstyle,” Beck writes about Adam. “The real magic is in the pumpkin, in the mice, in the moonlight; not beyond ordinary life, but within it.”

Sitting on the curb with my two kids, awestruck by Klee Klee — the delicate ruffle of his body, the gentle tickling of his feet over the fine hairs on Rowan’s arm — I witnessed God’s way of illuminating the extraordinary within the ordinary. I uncovered real magic. I chose to see the miracle.

***

To read more from Michelle DeRusha, visit her at Graceful and follow her on the twitter at @negraceful.

We do that, don’t we? Keep the peace; allow things to go unsaid. We don’t rock the boat. Instead we keep our mouths shut and harden our hearts in the process. Thing is, these things left unsaid? We choke them down, hiding them deep. They fester. They grow. Spreading like a cancer, and if we don’t treat the root cause they begin to affect every aspect of our lives.

Are you really mad at your wife because she left dishes in the sink?

Is it such a big deal that your husband forgot to pick up the dry cleaning like you asked?

Funny how everything becomes all or nothing: “You NEVER keep this kitchen clean!”

Or: “Why do I ALWAYS have to remind you twice to pick up the dry cleaning?”

Really? Tell me in honestly if your wife has never cleaned the kitchen or that your husband always has to be reminded again and again to run an errand for you. Bet you can’t.

But it’s so much easier to bitch about dishes and dry cleaning than to be vunerable and say “I don’t feel loved. I’m not important to you.”

Worse still is not expressing love because you make the assumption that they already know. They might, but everyone needs reassurance.

And remember: Love is a verb, not a noun.

This post is part of the Blog Carnival – Peace – hosted by Bridget Chumbley over at One Word at a Time.

I’m settling in at the movies with my popcorn and soda in an attempt to escape the world’s dreariness for at least two hours. Which is strange given that I’m about to watch the latest in a long stream of post-apocalyptic movies in which some Big Bad collapses governments, then societies, then people. Lots of movies like that lately, I think to myself, though I’m not sure why. We no longer cast a hopeful eye toward the future. Which I guess says a lot about our present.

The movie starts and the fifty or so people around me munch and gawk. It’s a good movie, really. At least the first part. Halfway through the picture and just as things start to get interesting the sound begins to slur, the picture wobbles, and the screen goes blank.

A chorus of groans ripples through the theater that is followed by an assortment of exhales, some stretching, and a few snide remarks. I sigh and think that I’ll have to wait to see what the end of the world is like.

Maybe. Then again, maybe not.

Because as I sit among all these people and watch their reactions, I get a very small glimpse of it from right where I am.

The Big Bad in this case happens to be a broken projector. Not really Big and not very Bad, but it has on a smaller scale the same effect as machines taking over the world or nuclear fallout—we’re all confused, and no one quite knows what to do now.

But then personalities take over. The Type A’s shoot for the door and the manager, eager to fix the situation. The sanguines in the room remain in their seats, certain that everything will work out in the end. The more pragmatic folks see the interruption as a chance to take a bathroom break without missing any of the movie. And then of course there are the pessimists now voicing their certainty that they are now out of twenty bucks.

The theater manager inches through the door. He looks to be about sixteen and I get the nagging sensation that up until this moment the only crisis he’s had so far today is losing his newest copy of Gamer magazine. He stands where he can make a hasty exit and uses the ponytailed lady from the ticket counter as a human shield, placing her between us. Still, all eyes are on him. He’s the one in charge.

He whispers to Ponytail and turns toward the mob. This, I think, is his time to shine. This is why he wears the suit.

The manager stiffens as he draws in a massive breath, exhales loudly…and leaves.

Ponytail watches him with a look of shock. Evidently her being hung out to dry had not been part of the conversation. But just as I think things are going to turn into something less than fine, she does the unexpected.

She talks.

And better than that, she doesn’t talk to us. She talks with.

She tells us her name is Angela and that everything is being fixed. She asks how the movie is so far and if we need anything. She talks about her children. She tells jokes and listens to ours. She is kind and thoughtful and attentive, both sharing our aggravation and easing it. And when the movie flashes onto the screen again ten minutes later, I swear, I swear, we’re almost sorry.

Angela stays with us for a few minutes to make sure everything’s fine and then makes a quiet exit.

The action resumes on the screen. Lots of explosions and blood and mayhem. But I’m not really thinking of the movie now. I’m thinking this:

I don’t know what’s coming down the road toward us. I don’t know if there’s some Big Bad or when it will happen or what we will do when it gets here. But I do know this—if and when that time comes, the future of our world won’t depend on governments or gun-toting heroes.

It’ll depend on people like the ponytailed lady who collected my ticket. People who take the bad and make it better.

***

To read more from Billy Coffey, visit him at at his website and follow him on the twitter at @billycoffey.

The following is a post from my friend and pastor Jeff Hogan’s blog Convergence from August 17, 2007:

Suffering.

I really don’t have to explain suffering, do I? As soon as I said that word you probably filled in the blanks with your own story of pain, custom fit just for your life. Pain doesn’t care how old we are, or how much money we make, or what kind of car we drive- it sinks its teeth into all of us.

It’s in the sound of the doctor’s voice, saying those words we never wanted to hear.

It’s watching as your Mom and Dad’s marriage falls apart.

It’s in the helplessness of seeing a child slipping away.

It’s hearing the words “I don’t love you anymore.”

These things stack up inside us, and they can make us skeptical to the 2000 year old words of Paul in Romans 8:18 when he says, “I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us.”

That’s a pretty big statement. If it wasn’t in the Bible, it might sound like a bunch of hooey.

Actually, depending on what you’re going through right now, it might sound like a bunch of hooey anyway.

At any rate, it makes me think about something that happened a while back.
I eat breakfast every Wednesday with a couple of guys. We usually talk about a book that we’re all reading, but a couple of weeks ago, we just talked about Rose. This wasn’t too hard- Mark had 3 entire albums full of their latest pictures of her.

The photos were from a trip that Mark and his wife Kim had recently taken to Haiti, to spend some more time with their little girl. They knew they wouldn’t be able to take Rose home- but that wasn’t really the point.

Mark and Kim love Rose. She isn’t some abstract concept, like “the orphans of Haiti,” or a name on a support card. She is their daughter. She just doesn’t live with them yet.

Adopting a child from Haiti is a long, expensive process and you have to jump through a lot of hoops. Every day that Mark and Kim spend without Rose is painful. But they continue to hope, and that hope is based in a quiet, confident expectation that it WILL happen. Nothing that Mark and Kim endure today will compare with the day when the adoption is complete and they get to take Rose home.

Do you think that God is any different? Is it any wonder that Paul can say that nothing we endure today is worth comparing to the glory that will be revealed in us? The hope that he is saying we can have is that same confident expectation that Mark and Kim have about Rose’s adoption. It will happen.

“Not only so, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for our adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies. For in this hope we were saved. But hope that is seen is no hope at all. Who hopes for what he already has? But if we hope for what we do not yet have, we wait for it patiently.” -Romans 8:23-25

I think that dealing with suffering is infinitely harder when you question if you really matter, and if there’s anything to believe in; to hope for.

The Creator, God of the universe answers both of those questions. He tells us, “You can believe in Me. I didn’t have a beginning, I won’t have an end, and I don’t change. I will be solid for you to hang on to, and I will never leave you, or forsake you.”

But He’s also saying, “I believe in you!” “You matter to Me, and I want you as my daughter; as my son.”

If we accept that adoption, then we HAVE to accept the truth that God wants us!

Nothing we endure today will compare with the day when our adoption is complete.

And that’s not hooey.

In Him We Live,

Jeff

p.s.- Thanks Mark, for letting me tell your amazing story.

***

UPDATE: Two and a half years later, Rose is still in Haiti with her sister and two brothers waiting to be adopted by Mark and Kim.

And here’s the last update from Jeff:

Kim is in Haiti at the orphanage with the kids- they are all safe for the time being. Though he was still waiting for word directly from her today, the last update I’ve seen on Mark’s facebook is, “I heard through Vicki & Dave Warner (Kim’s boss) that Kim is doing well and is very, very, very happy to be with all the kids at Lashbrook Family Ministries – Haiti in Port de Paix.” The plan was for Kim to stay and help at the orphanage while Mark continued his fight stateside to secure humanitarian visa’s for all four children. Kim told him, “I don’t want to come home without our kids.”

This adoption process has been long journey and just because Kim is with the children now, it doesn’t mean it’s a done deal. Would you please continue to pray for this family and others who just want to bring their kids home to a loving family? I know they would greatly appreciate it.

(This picture reminded me that I haven’t ranted incessantly about Martha Stewart in awhile. I shall have to remedy this situation very soon.)

My post on Thursday, The Katdish Dictionary Part 1 caused me to wax poetic about a time before most of us from The Fellowship of the Traveling Smartypants were on the twitter. FOTTSP was like our own personal twitter without the 140 character limitation. Good times.

Anyhoo, I decided to go back through some old posts and I found this wonderful tribute to hot dogs from Celine Dion:

Aren’t you glad you stopped by? Sorry/You’re welcome.

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