When it Rains, it pours

and sometimes it just sprinkles.

Two weekends ago i had a housefire.   Is that right?  I think that's right.

It has been a long two weeks, so it seems like a few months ago.

Well, what i didn't tell you is that while our house was trying not to burn to the ground, my husband's truck was in the shop, finding out that it would cost us $1800 to fix a $500 truck's transmission.  And in the haze of a sleepless night fighting fire, my husband sold it the next day to a mechanic who thought it was worth the $500 we paid for it.  Not such a bad idea, just interesting timing.

Plus, we have two cars for a reason.

Well, i think it was Wednesday of the following week . . . yes, that's right.  We had barely gotten back into our newly cleaned-by-strangers house, when my sweet little car started overheating for no apparent reason.  Well, nothing apparent, except for the mysterious leak taking place nowhere near the radiator -- except for that.

So, this past weekend, my husband went about learning what could make a 15 year-old honda civic start leaking and overheating.  As it turns out, his deductions led him to believe that the water pump needed to be replaced.  Well, needs to be replaced. 

My car repairing super hero worked and worked and worked, enlisted friends, and worked and worked and worked, and discovered that the water pump is attached to the engine block or some such ( i don't actually know what an engine block is, but i nod intelligently, and people think i know ); thus the entire engine has to be dismantled on my front porch in order to get to the place where there is an impossible bolt that must be persuaded to loosen, by use of some mysterious tool that the auto-parts store will insist does not exist.  If you find the non-existent tool, you may or may not be able to work its magic on your impossible bolt, but if you do, you'll have to replace the bolt, which is also not in existence at your auto parts store.

Get the picture?

Whoever said "just" in front of "replace the water pump" clearly didn't see this picture.  Or else, this whoever might have taken my car to the mechanic.  Maybe.

In any event, my car is dismantled on my front porch, where the chickens can poop on it, and i had no way to get to work in a city that is a 45 minute drive from my house.

Our life has been way too easy lately really.   I was getting bored.  I jest, of course, but then again not really.  Because i have to admit to you something.  O.k., i don't have to, but i'm going to, and it's for your own good.  This whole situation has made me kind of excited.  Yes, i'm nuts, but just listen.

Trouble is good for us.  Or at least it can be.

On Sunday evening, i had to start looking for alternatives to losing my job because of an impossible bolt and a non-existent bolt-loosening-tool and start inviting myself over to the homes of people who weren't expecting company.  Also, once i persuaded someone to let me come live with them indefinitely, i had to find someone to take me to said host's home, 45 minutes away.

I am always surprised at the generosity of even my closest friends, probably because i do not know that i would be so generous in a similar situation.  It took a total of about 5 text messages for me to arrange a place to sleep, in the home of my best good friend and her family, and a ride from my sister-in-law, who would have to drive 30 minutes to get to my house, then drive me another 40 minutes in the opposite direction to drop me off, and then drive home.  My s-i-l was having an "open day," and "of course" she would take me.  And my best friend was giddy.  It's like i had called to say,"let's have a slumber party."

Reason #1 why trouble is good for you:  It forces you to ask for favors and receive love.

Also, you learn an abundance of things.  You learn that you are stronger than you thought; you learn that God is faithful; you learn what is important to you; you learn who cares for you.  You learn so many things.

And you get so much stronger! 

This might sounds strange, but before the ashes had even cooled after our very first house fire, i became thankful.  I knew that God was turning us in a different direction.  I am a completely different person than i was almost 11 years ago when our house burned to the ground.  I am stronger; i am wiser; i am more willing to love; i am more level-headed; i am less materialistic; i am closer to God; i am not the same person i was.

Today, i am overwhelmed by the love of my friends.  Even though i am separated from my super-lovin' husband, and i miss him, i am covered in friendship and kindness and love.  It's funny how independence can keep us from loving each other.  But now i am dependent and having a lovely time.

I might be crazy, and i don't want it all the time.  But i think i kind of like trouble.

⁵ But also for this very reason, giving all diligence, add to your faith virtue, to virtue knowledge, ⁶ to knowledge self-control, to self-control perseverance, to perseverance godliness, ⁷ to godliness brotherly kindness, and to brotherly kindness love. ⁸ For if these things are yours and abound, you will be neither barren nor unfruitful in the knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ. ⁹ For he who lacks these things is shortsighted, even to blindness, and has forgotten that he was cleansed from his old sins. 

2 Peter 1:5-9  

I'm an Oak.

Are you as particular as i am?

There are a lot of things in my life that i have learned to just let be. I've learned to relax about someone's socks on the floor. I've learned to look the other way when perfectly intelligent people misspell words i'm sure they should've learned in the second grade. I've even learned that if your house burns down, it isn't necessarily the end of the earth as you know it. I mean, i think i have become a pretty flexible person, all things considered.

Today, i and my fire-fighting-super-hero got to move back into our slightly charred house. The cleaning salesman  fellow who makes a living by contracting folks to clean charred houses, walked through our house with us and had us sign papers saying it was clean and that we approve of his getting paid.  And i have to say that we were fully impressed.  I mean, really.  Reportedly there were something like ten people in my 700 square foot house, just whirring away, cleaning every nook and cranny they could find, and they did a bang up job. They cleaned things that have never been cleaned in this house.  Like ever.

Anyway, (getting back to the point, if there is one), among their cleaning duties was my dishes.  I mean, all of them, everywhere.  The soot had to be removed from every surface.  Every fork, every spoon, every everything.

Well, after we had signed away our approval, my shopping-without-me-super-hero went to the store to pick up a few things, like pillows and sheets and toilet paper, and i went about putting our house in order.  The main pattern i started to find throughout the house is the indication that cleaning people don't necessarily feel the obligation to put things back exactly the way the found it.

I'm o.k. with that.  After all, i just told you how flexible i am.

I put a pizza in the oven, made some tea, went to look for a glass . . .

and started yelling at the strangers who aren't here and can't hear me.  My cup cabinet.  It's just not right.

It is a woman's prerogative to situate the glasses in her cabinet as she sees fit, and they shall not be moved.  Do you hear me?  Do you see this?

"Noooooooooooooooo!  What did you DOooooooooooo?  Oh NOOO!  This isn't RIGHT!  You can't put that THERE!  Oh NO.  This is wrong!"  were the lamentations my chickens could undoubtedly hear from outside the kitchen window.

(You think i'm joking here, and you are mistaken.)

After a solid minute of yelling and picking up glasses that were in entirely the wrong place, and putting them down in a different wrong place, and finding the plethora of wrong places entirely too overwhelming, i finally had to close the cabinet to avoid a full-on break down.  I'm still a little verklempt about the whole thing.  A few minutes later, i found solace in rearranging the silverware drawer, which was so bad i just couldn't ignore it, but easier to fix.

Flexible?  I guess not.

I mean, burn my house down?  Sure.  But rearrange my glasses?

Stand right there while i get my pistol.

Maybe you better leave my cup cabinet alone.  I do have my limits.

a kitten a candle and getting happy about laundry

Right now, i'm sitting on a hotel room bed, next to my loving man, enjoying some microwave popcorn, while watching reruns on tv waiting for our laundry to dry. I have been hesitating to write this post, both because it's kind of a pain to write a decent post from a cell phone, and because those of you who have read the archives of this blog -- or who know me outside of blogland may roll their eyes in disbelief and boredom at the repetetive plotline rearing its head in this story of my life:

We, my husband and i, have now experienced and survived our fifth fire. Our fourth house fire. To be fair, fire 4 was less of a house fire and more just flaming plastic raining from the bathroom ceiling, but it remains that fire, in whatever form, has played an unusually themy (as in predominate theme) in the story of our marriage thus far.

This time there was apparently a lit candle in a window sill, near a trash can full of toilet paper. Presumably there was also a kitten playing in the area. In any event, there was definitely a fire near 1:00 a.m. in our bathroom, which was quickly contained, did not cause any injuries, and did not burn the house down.

All is pretty good for us. This time we have the blessing of insurance, which is taking much of the headache of cleaning and repairs. Praise God!

Oh yeah, the happy laundry. I have never, in my memory, been so happy as i was this afternoon when i discovered i could wash our one load of non-smoky laundry in the guest laundry room in our hotel. It's amazing what we take for granted, and even despise, when times are easy, that we really really appreciate when things are even slightly inconvenienced.

When i started this post, it was Saturday evening, July 16. But as i got toward the end of my post, my husband wonderful smart phone completely gave up on me, and i had to pause. It is now Sunday morning, July 17. I am sitting at my own computer, however sooty, with a real keyboard, and waiting for the wonderful fellow who will pick up our clothes and linens and other fabric things and clean the smoke away for us. Very handy profession that i didn't know anything about until now.

For my church friends, i don't think i'll make it to church this morning, me in my stained, sweaty, and now newly smoky clothes, and waiting for the laundry cleaner. This afternoon, we'll check into a small motel closer to home, and wait for the cleaners to "ozonate" our house. Apparently "ozonating" will really do a number on anything that breathes air, but it will also clean the nasty smell out of our house and our furniture. Another handy service i was completely ignorant of.

I better sign off. If you don't hear from me, it's because i am somewhat technology incapable for a few days. But everything is a ok. And it's really nice (this is my first experience with it) to have insurance when you have a household disaster. Just sayin'. Done it both ways, and this rocks! <3

this is where the title goes.

This is a test. This only a test.

I love the way He holds me.

Today is Monday.  And it started out pretty good.

I got plenty of sleep, woke up on time, remembered to eat breakfast, drink coffee, and read my Bible, sadly, in that order.  I had great hair, even better make-up, and i got started early enough that i had time to pick up chocolate for the girls at the office (it's always a good idea to keep chocolate on hand with 60 women in one office).  Today was gonna be great!  I EVEN called in to my radio station on the way to work and said something funny that was aired on the morning show.  How great is that!?

I was all set to have a productive, successful day.

But then.

At some point, not long after 8:00 a.m., the entire downtown area experienced a power outage.  That's not such a big deal, right?  The courthouse generators roared up to a 1/4 power or so, and some of us were still able to use our computers, and the copy machines would pretend to make copies, but couldn't muster enough electricity to actually print a page.

But still, we marshalled on.

Sometime after 9:00 a.m., our power came back.  Fans revved, computers whirred, copiers actually copied. But in the electric flicker of generator power, both my computer - and the building's chiller pump (i.e. air conditioning) bit the dust.

Oh dread.

I don't know what you do for a living.  But i . . . i NEED MY COMPUTER.  And i really need an air conditioner in 98 degree heat.  That's just me.

And by lunch time, hot, sweaty, forlorn, and saddened at the site of my computer being stolen away to the techy hospital, i had lost all my Monday morning gusto.  It's a good thing i started out with as much as i did, i guess.

I sat in my car and ran the air conditioner for 30 minutes or so, while i connected with encouraging friends on my wonderful little phone.  Very thankful for Facebook today.  Just sayin'.

I spent the afternoon sitting at other people's desks, usurping computers that aren't set up right, while sitting on chairs set so low that getting up and down equals doing squats in the office.  I was trying to fend off all out grumpy for five hours, when it happened.

My head, hanging now by only a thread, was bitten off by a friend and co-worker who was having as difficult a day as me.  And she made me cry.

I think i might be pathetic.

And whiny.

And this is my blog; i'll whine if i want to.

Happily, however, just in time, the air conditioner was fixed, and around 4 pm, my computer was returned to me, with all the right settings, fully recovered from its electrical shock of the morning.  Thank you techy hospital!

Some days it seems like nothing goes right.

But when it was over, i was really thankful for my comfortably positioned desk chair, my car with a working air conditioner, cold water in a bottle, a husband who loves me even when i'm whiny, a beautiful dog who greets my at my car door every day, and God who is there holding me while i cry over temporary and minor inconveniences.

This has been a blog post with almost no moral, except that everyone has rough days, silly days, and pathetic days, and God knows about all of them ahead of time.

That is all.

A Dream Within a Dream

There are many musings in my mind today.  We will see if i can wrangle any of them in to something worth reading.

". . . Marriage, that blessed arrangement, that dream within a dream . . . Love, true love, will follow you forever. . . "

(quote from "The Princess Bride," minus the pronunciation changes) 

Sadly, i don't know too many people who think so positively about marriage these days.  It seems like the most complicated situation in anyone's life.  So much so that only something like 50% of people who marry stay married, and of those, well, i haven't heard any actual stats on happy marriages. . . but i have encountered people, and so have you, so we can probably infer some conclusion from our experiences.

". . . a man will leave his father and mother and be united with his wife, and the two will become one flesh."

Ephesians 5:31 

When i first got married, it was absolute bliss, right up until we both had to go back to work and life and encounter the world as "man and wife."  It didn't take too long before the ideals of a couple of dreamers, and the conflicts of our expectations and life in general, led to more screaming matches than i'd like to remember. The thing i hated the most about those times was the feeling that in order for a conflict to be resolved, one of us had to "win."

I had my first big epiphany toward the production of a healthy marriage when i realized that on any occasion, in any conflict, against any odds, neither of us "wins," unless both of us win.  We're a team.

It seems very simple, i know.  Of course you're a team.  You're married.  But when there's a conflict, a fight, an argument, who are you rooting for?  Sure, sometimes one person is obviously the one in the wrong.  More often, we're both in the wrong.  Less often, neither of us were in the wrong, except for the part where we started fighting about it.  The simplicity of the matter is this:  the only side you're allowed to be on is each other's.  And that is final.

Don't get me wrong; there are good reasons for married couples to hash out issues in order to come to healthy conclusions.  Arguing is not always destructive.  As long you're on the same side.  Ladies, did your mother, or your aunt, or your grandma, ever tell you, "better pick your battles, honey."   ?  This is why.  At least, this is partly why.

"Do nothing from selfishness or empty conceit, but with humility of mind regard one another as more important than yourselves."

Phillippians 2:3-4 

"Therefore, laying aside falsehood, speak truth to one another . . . for we are members of one another.  Be angry, and yet do not sin; do not let the sun go down on your anger, and in do not give the devil an opportunity"

Ephesians 4:25-26 

She told you to pick your battles for many reasons, one of them is that it isn't your job to fix your husband (or your wife).  But that subject is probably for another post.

Running Over

This morning, during my lunch break, i attempted to post to this blog and tell you a nice story, from my new groovy phone.  Sadly, just when i was about to be ready to hit "send," i pushed the back space key too hard, and i lost my entire post.  Sadly, there's no "un-do" button on my phone. Lesson learned. I'm going to attempt now to recreate the post i wrote earlier, but since i'm not in the moment anymore, i'll need you to imagine this post to be just a little more moving than it actually will be, just to make up for the lost time.

In any event, my post started with this picture:

I'm not sure if you can tell what this is a picture of, so i'll have to tell you about it.

Several years ago, before we became wanna-be-farmers, my crafty self picked up the somewhat short-lived hobby of beading and jewelry-making.  I made simple custom jewelry to match my outfits for work.  I felt crafty, and it saved me some money.  Near the end of my personal beading fad, a good friend and co-worker asked me if i could repair a couple of pieces of jewelry for her.  I accepted the task and took her jewelry in a little box, labeled, "Nelia's Jewelry."

Soon after i accepted Nelia's broken bobbles, i took a job at another office in the courthouse, and 18 months or so after that, i left the courthouse altogether, bobbles still broken.

After becoming a wanna-be-farmer, i remember opening my friend's box a couple of times, trying to remember what she had asked me to do with the items she entrusted to me.  But i didn't remember, and the box remained closed, bobbles still broken.

Fast forward to a few months ago, when i came back to work in my old office, the same one where i met my friend, Nelia, and where i acquired her bobbles.  I tried again to remember what Nelia wanted done with her jewelry, but when i couldn't remember, i could only apologize.

Then, in a separate transaction, i offered to lend my beading supplies to my friend so that she and her children could work on a project they had planned -- a gift for a friend.  I delivered to my friend a dusty old shoe box, with disorganized beads and string and wire, and a few small tools. (And further apologies for her still broken jewelry, in the same box). And i was delighted as Nelia displayed her creations around her neck at work and reported the fun her children were having with my beads.  It was the most action that box had seen in years, and i was pleased that they would get some use.  She even found her broken jewelry and fixed it herself.

I have repeatedly assured Nelia that she could keep my beads as long as she liked, but today, i received my supplies back, with a beautiful thank you note, and looking not quite so shabby.  Not shabby at all.

Instead of my old dirty shoe box, my beads are now encased in plastic, instead of cardboard, and carried in a lovely and appropriate tote.  That's the picture you see.  Organization in a tote.

And gratefulness that threatened to move me to tears, right there in my cubicle.

I had given my friend what i thought was worth little.  Dusty, mismatched beads, small cheap tools, forgotten promises and sad apologies.  But when the gift was given freely, it produced much.  It enriched, and it spurred new skills and talents.  It also returned to me "pressed down, shaken together, and running over," so to speak.  

Blessed.

It's hard for me to know if i am communicating to you my heart.  I learned something today.  That a gift, given freely, cannot be judged by its appearances.  But so much more than that.

Give, and it will be given to you. They will pour into your lap a good measure -pressed down,shaken together, and running over. For by your standard of measure it will be measured to you in return.

Luke 6:38

Grateful Acknowledgments

"When we view the blessings with which our country has been favored, those which we now enjoy, and the means which we possess of handing them down unimpaired to our latest posterity, our attention is irresistibly drawn to the source from whence they flow. Let us then, unite in offering our most grateful acknowledgments for these blessings to the Divine Author of All Good."

~James Monroe

I agree.

Happy Independence Day!

This is Columbo, my semi- new kitten friend.

Learning

Today i'm learning how to do this mobile blogging business. Please bear with me. :)

Testing