Archive for February, 2012

My cheatin’ hair

The path of deception always starts off so innocently.

I’d gotten a haircut, and then decided the top layer on one side wasn’t quite right. Rather than drive all the way out to Cedar Bluff again, I decided to try a little DIY.

Big. Mistake.

Even to the most casual observers, it was clear I’d done a whack job on my hair. I could sort of compensate by scrunching up the curl, tucking it behind my ear, but it was just not right. The rest of it was nicely layered; this section was hacked in a straight line.

Of course I couldn’t admit to my hair stylist that I’d done it, when she always sends me off by saying “if anything’s not right, just come back in and I’ll get ‘er fixed.” Instead, I waited like two months, hoping it would fix itself.

It didn’t.

And then, rather than go back in and let her see the monstrosity that was my hair, I cheated on her. I went to a new place down the street, a funky place that charges twice as much and where the stylists are gay and cool and give you the hard sell on getting highlights.

And the lies compounded. The stylist at the new place said she would take off two inches, but it was more like four by the time she was done. And then she sold me some stinky animal-free hair stuff that was so smelly and useless that even Derek advised me to go back to my old routine.

Now I have to either avoid seeing my stylist for the next, oh, three months while this grows out, or come clean.

I deserve this. I don’t like it, but I deserve it.

Oh, what a tangled web we weave....

 

 

 

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February 27th, 2012
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My baby, 20 months.

Twenty months ago, this little guy came into our lives. He was unexpected, but greatly anticipated. Before him, I never knew our family wasn’t complete, but in retrospect the potential hole seems obvious. His arrival changed my life, literally and figuratively. I am actually a different person, and he was the catalyst for that change. It’s more than that we “finally” had a boy, as some people put it.

The truth is, before Jonathan, I had my priorities skewed. I was studying for the sommelier certification and had my mind and path running solely in that direction. My life goal was to get Sophia in preschool so I could “finally” get moving on my professional plans.

I didn’t appreciate my children as much as I should have. I didn’t realize that their young years were fleeting, that I should pay attention to them and–more importantly–enjoy them. That I should be glad for snow days and spring breaks and not wish I were working.

I found this out the hard way, through nine months of being so sick that I could barely drag myself out of bed. Nine months of throwing up and living for the moment when I could climb back into bed, only to be taunted by a whirling brain and an inability to physically accomplish anything beyond the bare minimum. Nine months in which I discovered that I could put my career on the skids and no one–least of all me–noticed. Nine months of reflection resulting in me finally–truly–accepting my various God-given vocations.

The hardest lessons are never pleasant, but the reward at the end–Jonathan–certainly was. By the time he was born, I was truly prepared for him. I had never anticipated a baby like I anticipated him. Moments after he was born, I felt an overwhelming physical change. I wasn’t sick any more! And I had this amazing, precious baby in my arms, and I was ready to love him and cherish every moment with him and let everything else fall into place in its own time. And, of course, it did.

He is sweet-tempered, loving, cuddly, and fun. Our entire family dotes on him. I simply can’t get enough of him. None of us can. He says “whoa-whoa” when he wants a sucker and “nak!” when he wants a snack. He calls his pacifier “bear.” He smiles at you with his eyes, and he wraps his arms around you when he wants to cuddle. He starts every morning off with a banana (quartered the long way and sliced), and finishes the day by brushing his own teeth and having a story.

This is not to say that each of our girls isn’t adorable, interesting, and special (because they certainly are). But having this little boy, with the dynamic of two older sisters who love on him and mother him and create a cocoon for him, has been an absolute joy. Having Jonathan in our family has taught me just how quickly time flies when you slow down and enjoy it.

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February 24th, 2012
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Homes of Our Lives, Bizzaro edition

Our house sale seems to be on hold. Apparently the buyers need to get some more papers in to the mortgage lender, but they were derailed by a dog. It seems they have a brand new large dog, and while playing around, the dog knocked out the front teeth of one of the buyers. They’ve obviously been too busy in the emergency room to get their mortgage documentation together.

I feel terrible for him, I really do. But I confess I laughed a little at the ludicrousness when our agent told me about it.

Clearly cats are superior.

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February 22nd, 2012
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Ash Wednesday

I’ve never understood why we use ashes and not dirt on Ash Wednesday. The pastor says, “Remember, O man, that you are dust, and to dust you shall return,” from Genesis 3:19, a reminder that man is fallen and will die.

But–here’s my chemistry background coming out–ashes and dust or dirt can’t technically be swapped for one another. I know theologians who aren’t chemists understand this, because I attended a Bible study at Zion in Fort Wayne that was about cremation and how burning the body into ashes fundamentally changes the chemical composition of the body. As a fanatic composter, I can tell you the same thing. Ashes, too many of them, can ruin the pH balance in a compost pile. A decaying body–well, it’s gross, and might attract some hungry rodents or other animals, but otherwise helps rather than hurts the organic matter in the pile.

(Not that I put bodies in my compost pile. Fruit, veggies, coffee grounds, eggshells, and yard waste only.)

People in the Old Testament covered themselves in ashes as a sign of mourning and grief. Job sat in the ash heap for awhile after he lost everything. But ashes as a sign of mourning, versus a swab of dirt as a reminder of our finite time on this earth, seem to me to be two different things.

At least one LCMS pastor I know of doesn’t do ashes on Ash Wednesday–not for the reasons I’ve mentioned, but it’s an interesting read. Scroll down and see a response from Pastor Petersen. Good stuff.

This Lent is busier than most, with us settling into a new church, selling and buying a house, moving, and commuting one way or the other to the church or the kids’ school. But I am reading two books: one is Luther’s The Bondage of the Will, and the other is Harrison’s A Little Book on Joy. If you’re looking for a devotional book this Lenten season, you could join my friend Edie as she reads John Klenig’s Grace Upon Grace, a book about modern spirituality.

Oh, come let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.

Hebrews 12:2

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February 22nd, 2012
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Homes of Our Lives, seller’s edition

Sunday at 4 p.m. we had a second showing, which means someone who came by wanted to look at our house again. A good sign! We didn’t have anything particular to do, so we went to Target. One hour and $85 later (why? why?), we went home to make dinner. But the potential buyers were still there. We drove around the block like stalkers a few times, and after about 15 minutes of idling down the neighborhood streets pulled over about a block away from home and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Jonathan was asleep for awhile, but the girls were antsy. Then he woke up. He changed all our radio channels, the girls played, and we waited some more.

Our agent said this was a good sign. They were probably making an offer.

They were. Except when we got the offer I wondered if no showings, no offers, would have been better.

In other words, they totally lowballed it. So low that I was indignant and insulted. Derek told me to calm down. I told him real estate is one of the most emotional things you ever do, so let me have my moment, okay?

All right, it was more than a moment. I barely slept that night because I was crunching counter-offer numbers in my head.

The thing is, it’s not just insulting us. It’s insulting the house. And I’ve said before that I love my house. Whoever moves in  here better love it and respect it. That includes thinking it’s worth something in the first place.

Our agent said the market isn’t great, but it’s not that bad. She suggested we come back at practically the listing price, to let them know that they’re not even in the ball field, let alone playing the game. And if they want to play the game, they’d better step it up. Oh, yeah.

So, now we wait. We aren’t afraid to walk away from this “deal.” The house hasn’t even been on the market a month, though with all these showings it feels like years and years. I’ll be incredibly happy when I can start a project without having to put it away because a showing came up. When I can make dinner without worrying about what kind of smell a simmering soup will leave lingering around the house. When the kids can be kids and play and not have to put everything away immediately after getting it out. When I don’t have to sweep every five minutes and wonder what on earth this family is doing on these floors to create such a mess.

It won’t be long. We close on the new place March 30. I’m mulling over carpet samples for the upstairs, which I’ll take care of while Derek writes his Holy Week sermons. We’ll probably move in the weekend after Easter. I found a wonderful Parent’s Day Out program for Jonathan to start in April for two days a week. We’ve had a whole Sunday at the church and they still seem happy to see us, and we like them.

A friend who used to sell real estate told us that if we had 20 showings, this place would be gone. I’m ticking them off. We’re at 9. I hope he’s right, because we’re almost halfway there….

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February 21st, 2012
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Teach your children well

I have many fears as a mother. Some are mundane, pedestrian, even. That Jonathan will have a temper tantrum in the parking lot, or Sophia will touch the toilet seat at Wal-Mart and then stick her fingers in her mouth. Some swing the pendulum to the extremely serious. That my child will grow up and question her faith. That she will die without having grown up at all.

That second fear hit home for two families I know this month. One lost their four-year-old son; the other their seventeen-year-old son. Both families are ripped apart, devastated, eviscerated by the sudden and permanent loss of their children. Both boys were adorable, talented, smart, so full of promise that now will never blossom. My heart seizes up just thinking about it.

Yet there is a difference between these boys. The young one died strong in his faith. He knew Jesus was his Savior; he professed it hours before his death in the simple words of a child. The other, I don’t know. His family seems to be nominally Christian, if at all. It breaks my heart to think that his family may have no belief and no hope for him, or for themselves.

Our pastor once said at the funeral of a young man in our church that the tragedy of a young person dying either brings people to God or causes them to grow away from Him. The former brings essential comfort and hope; the latter brings only temporary relief with someone to blame.

We know from the Bible that death is the unnatural result of sin. It is not “natural” even if the person is old, but it is so much more unnatural, alarming, devastating, when the person is young, with the promise of years ahead. Yet Luther once said that “A child of seven dies easiest, without fear of death. But as soon as we become adults, the awareness of death and hell begins, and we fear death.”

The irony is, Christians have nothing to fear from death.

I cannot imagine how one could lose a child and ever fully recover. I kiss my children every night when they are asleep in bed and pray that God’s angels will watch over them. I worry about their safety when they are out of my sight, and when they are with me, when they are riding in the car with someone else, when I am out of town. In short: constantly.

My fears swirl around like little devils. Seeing death all around only emphasizes the critical, urgent importance of teaching our children about their faith every single day. Jesus is the best gift we can give them. And then I need to trust that God will call them home when He wills, and that His timing is always right.

But I trust in you, O LORD;
I say, ‘You are my God.’
My times are in your hand.

Psalm 31:14-15a

 

 

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February 16th, 2012
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This installation is brought to you by the letter P and the number 3.

Derek’s installation at Praise Lutheran on Sunday afternoon was lovely.

Most of the circuit pastors came, as well as the District President.

Pastor Bushur, the senior (and now only) pastor at First, preached. He made sure to tell everyone that Derek is not perfect or all powerful, but a pastor. (The three P’s.)

Jonathan found a banana I’d packed and decided the middle of the sermon was the appropriate time to eat it.

The girls sang the first verse of “I am Jesus’ Little Lamb” after the Old Testament reading.

The pastors gathered around and reminded Derek through Scripture readings and blessings what the Office of the Holy Ministry is about. I love this part; I think it’s good for everyone–the pastors, the congregation–to occasionally be reminded what the Bible says about pastors. Hint: it has nothing to do with business or marketing.

There was a beautiful reception with yummy finger foods and a delicious homemade cake.

A couple of blurry family photos (you don’t want to know how many times I got everyone in the same vicinity and either Derek or the photographer would get into a conversation and the kids would disappear)

…and our new life begins.

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February 14th, 2012
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It’s a house!

Why bury the lede? We bought a house. It’s the house from my previous post. It’s in the city, which means the top-rated city schools. It’s high on a hill, with gorgeous views.

And now, I can finally decorate in my head with abandon. Here’s the full tour.

  •  The front room (photos 8, 9, and 10) will be my office. We’re going to install two doors in the doorway (or, rather, find someone handy to do it) so I can sneak away to do interviews even when the house is in full chaos.
  • The back room (photo 11) will be our living room. It has two doors leading out to the screened-in porch and a fireplace.
  • The dining room will be repainted immediately. Besides replacing the worn upstairs carpeting and getting doors on the office, this is Priority 1. I think I’m going to paint the dining room red, and the entry hallway (which is a horrible seafoam green) a shade of cornflower blue pulled out of our long hall area rug.
  • The kids’ bathroom (photos 24 and 25) has light blue wallpaper and plastic towel bars that need to be replaced. I’m going to paint it an aqua blue, but probably down the road since the wallpaper is ugly, but doesn’t make me physically sick.
  • The little room (photo 27) where they have a treadmill will be the kids’ playroom for now. As they get older, we will likely reconfigure.
  • The bedroom with three windows (photo 28) will be Jonathan’s room/guest room. When we have company, he can crash in the playroom.
  • The other bedroom will be the girls’. We’ve promised them bunk beds and they are beyond excited–so much so that they would rather share a room and get bunk beds than have their own rooms.
  • The basement pictures look pretty horrible, but now that it’s empty, it’s a nice, clean space with lots of room for storage, beer-brewing, and anything else we can dream up.

One long-term project: replacing the kitchen cabinets and possibly adding some to the back wall and turning the section that juts out into an island. You can’t tell in the pictures, but the cabinets are cheap. They’re great for a family with three little kids who bang and push and smudge things, though.

Timewise, we’ll close on the new house at the end of March, do the carpet and office doors, and, depending on what’s happening up here with our house, move some time in April. Derek will commute back and forth for now, and then for a bit we’ll all be running back and forth with the kids finishing the school year up here and him teaching 7th-grade confirmation in the mornings.

This isn’t in the photos, but there’s a cat next door that brays like a lamb. It’s the oddest sound, and I was thinking, “Maybe we shouldn’t buy this house!” the second time we visited and heard it. But Sophia went out and immediately made good friends with it. A sign? I hope so.

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February 12th, 2012
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Homes of Our Lives (the soap opera)

How things change quickly. Last time I posted about our buying-and-selling saga, which was just a few days ago, we had made an offer on The House.

Let’s just say it’s a good thing I didn’t waste too much brain power redecorating the place, because in the end, the sellers were being poopyheads, as Sophia would put it (and then get in trouble).

Their demands were unyielding, and we backed off. We want to be in the driver’s seat, and we have the luxury of that since we’re sitting pretty in our place still.

That said, Maryville is a smallish market, and we have a list of wants and needs that narrows the number of homes considerably. Derek would probably rearrange this list in priority order, but here’s my wish list:

  • An inspiring home office, which I’m blessed with now. Kate thinks I should bring it with us. I wish we could. But seriously, I spend much of my day in here, and I need the space to be beautiful, light, and interesting, not claustrophobic or ugly.
  • Room for the family to spread out as the kids grow. As much as we love to be together, well, sometimes I like to just send the kids upstairs. And sometimes they like to sneak off by themselves. And sometimes we have parties and we want them to go to bed without hearing the noise.
  • Storage space. I’m by no means a packrat, but the things I do keep around are important: tubs of kids’ clothes for the future, Christmas and other seasonal decorations, toilet paper from Sam’s Club. I’ve gotta have space for it.

The day after we made another offer on The House, another place popped up in my new listings alert on that crack cocaine of real estate websites, trulia.com.

I immediately had buyer’s remorse that we’d literally the day before made an offer on The House, so when everything with The House fell apart, I was annoyed with the sellers, but not very upset. This house has everything on my list, plus

  • A place for Derek to brew beer
  • An amazing screened-in back porch

I know, right?

  • An extra room that gives us flexibility as the kids grow and change
  • Two floors, for the aforementioned kids-sneaking-off and energy savings
  • A tangerine guest bathroom, which happens to be Pantone’s color of the year

You know you want this color.

  • A lovely view from the office and all front windows
  • And, best of all: laundry room upstairs! Near all the bedrooms! Where 90 percent of the laundry is generated! I’m beyond excited about that one.

Most importantly, I just like it. Of course it’s important to look at real estate value, as I’ve written in a million articles for HGTV.com and FrontDoor.com (and this place is the scrappy house in a good neighborhood, so we seem to be good there), but I want to be truly happy in my home. It’s the place a woman spends most of her time, and where she invests her heart.

We’re going back to take a second look this week, as soon as our agent can schedule it. My mom said if we don’t buy it, she will.

And that is Homes of Our Lives, the soap opera, February 7 episode. I hope we haven’t already jumped the shark.

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February 7th, 2012
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Last Sunday at First

This lovely photo of First Lutheran is by Lisa Wade of Lisa Wade Photography.

Today was our last Sunday at First Lutheran. I didn’t cry. That doesn’t mean I wasn’t on the verge of a Blubbering Mess the whole morning and potluck meal. It only means that I didn’t let the faucet open wide. I thought all along I’d go up during the speeches and say something short and simple about how First Lutheran brought us into their family and how much we love them. But in the end, I couldn’t go up, because of the aforementioned fear of becoming a Blubbering Mess.

(Plus, I was having a spectacularly bad hair day. Why is it that a terrible hair day combined with the fear of crying can make you throw six years down the drain without acknowledgement?)

We have been so blessed here. It’s hard to leave. I’m trying to put it all in perspective. Several of our friends have recently experienced heartbreaking losses and have loved ones fighting for their lives. What’s a new congregation, a move, a new house, all those things that seem big in this right-hand kingdom, anyway? Not much.

Next week I’ll probably have an exciting, glowing post about Derek’s installation in Maryville. I have no doubt we’ll come to love those members as much as we love everyone here.

My Aunt Judy told me about ten years ago that you never forget your first home as a married couple, whether it’s a palace or a shack, because it was your first home together. First Lutheran was our first church home. I can say without a doubt we will never forget this lovely place.

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February 5th, 2012
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