Author: Big Mama

  • The only thing I have to fear, is fear

    I don’t know if any of y’all have ever noticed, but on my sidebar I have a little box that has a new Bible verse posted in it everyday. This isn’t something I have the technical capabilities of creating, but rather a cool little thing that I found on the INTERNET, because if you look, you can find some really good stuff on the computer, which makes me hope this internet thing really takes off.

    Anyway, I always take the time to read the verse of the day each morning when I check my blog to see if I’ve posted anything, because honestly, sometimes I can’t quite remember if I did or not, due to the fact that I usually write late at night in a tired, sleepy haze. Last week, I began to notice that EVERY day the verse was about asking anything of God and receiving it. On Saturday morning, when there was yet another verse about asking God and having faith, I turned around and laughingly told P, “I think God is telling me to ask Him for something”.

    And he agreed that my superb powers of intuition were probably right. It only took me a week to catch on. God was probably sitting in heaven thinking He should have made me a little quicker on my feet.

    I immediately thought of all the potential things I could ask of God. We are in a new season of life with the job change, potential ministry opportunities, my ongoing internal debate on whether or not I want another child and if it’s part of God’s plan for us to have another child, for financial provision and wisdom, for health, for peace, for happiness and contentment. Essentially, a veritable laundry list of potential requests.

    So, I thought about all those things and how cool it was that God was speaking to me through all these Bible verses, and that was the end of it.

    Then, yesterday morning, I checked the verse of the day. It was Mark 11:24, “Therefore, I tell you, whatever you ask for in prayer, believe that you have received it, and it will be yours”. It was the 7th straight day that was about asking God for something in prayer. I can honestly say I didn’t even know there were so many verses about asking for things.

    I needed to go to the grocery store so I loaded Caroline into the car and as I was driving into the HEB parking lot, I had a spiritual epiphany (I’m a mama, I take my epiphanies where I can get them). I realized the reason God keeps tugging at my heart and giving me sign after sign to ask Him for something, is because I have quit asking Him for things. And not due to some holy, saintly belief that I have all I need.

    I’ll ask him to bless my family, to protect Caroline, to give us wisdom as we raise her, but I’ve quit asking for anything tangible because I am scared it won’t happen and I don’t want to be disappointed in God. And even as I type that, I am embarrassed by my lack of faith, especially in light of how faithful God has always been to provide for all my needs and exceed my expectations in so many ways.

    I’m not sure when this happened, but I think it was somewhere during the time after Caroline was born. I prayed so hard that I would be able to stay home with her, and when my maternity leave ended and no one had delivered a large bag of money and health insurance to our door, I was disappointed. I accepted it and in all reality, became fine with it, but there was a part of me that just didn’t understand why it didn’t work out the way I had hoped. So, I tucked away all my hopes and dreams in a little corner and kept them to myself. Honestly, I don’t think I ever admitted, even to myself, how frustrated I felt. Plus, there was a huge part of me that recognized all the blessings I have in my life and that I don’t deserve any of them, so why would I complain about what I don’t have?

    I quit asking God for the things that are most important to me. I have been letting fear control me. Fear of letting go, fear of surrendering, fear of disappointment, fear of things not working out the way I want them to, fear of where He may lead.

    And now, He’s telling me I have to let go and just ASK. Yes, sometimes the answer may not be the answer I want and sometimes there will be answers I don’t understand, but ultimately I have to trust in Ephesians 3:20, “Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us”. I have watched, over the last year, as He has done more than I could ask or imagine. In spite of my unwillingness to ask Him for the desires of my heart, He has searched the corners of my heart and answered so many hidden requests.

    He knows me, in spite of myself, and now I have to let myself know Him.

    “Until now you have not asked for anything in my name. Ask and you will receive, and your joy will be complete.” John 16:24

  • Further proof that she shares at least 50% of my DNA

    Last Thursday, Caroline and I made our first trip of the summer to the neighborhood pool. I learned two things from this experience.

    1. Never promise a trip to the pool before checking the weather forecast, because a 3 year old with her mind set on going to the pool isn’t going to be deterred by cloudy skies and windy, rainy weather. You know how your hand feels when you stick it in an ice chest for too long while pushing aside the Diet Pepsi to get to the good stuff? That’s how my whole body felt.

    2. I wasn’t really ready to experience Swimsuit Season ’07. I needed more time, more lunges and less cellulite.

    So, this morning as we were hanging out around the house, I dug through my extensive DVD collection and pulled out my lone exercise DVD entitled “Fat Burning Pilates”. I bought it almost 4 years ago in the midst of the postpartum, fat roll around the middle blues and have used it, on average, about once a year. Today, in a frenzy of needing to burn some fat, I cranked that baby up for the 4th time.

    I sold Caroline on the idea of exercising with Mama, while following the lead of a host of perky women, with firm abs and pigtails in their hair, doing squats in sets of 10 with something like 40 or 300 reps a piece. Oh, they are so smug with their pigtails and elegant arm moves. I, personally, cannot be bothered with what my arms are doing when my thighs feel like someone just doused them in gasoline and lit them on fire.

    We were about 5 minutes into the DVD when Caroline collapsed on the floor and said, “Mama! This is hard work. Can we stop and eat some marshmallows instead?”

    I have never been more proud.

  • To make you think

    Go read this. When I used to lead a high school girls’ Bible study, I used to always tell them that you never know who is watching to see if your actions line up with your words. Apparently, I was right.

    I pray that my actions speak loudly for who and what I believe. But honestly, I think I fall short a lot of the time.

  • I’m not sure I’m in good hands

    One huge advantage of working for a large pharmaceutical company, other than the ulcer-inducing stress, is the insurance. Big pharma will flat hook you up with some good insurance coverage. In fact, during my 10 years in the industry, P had two back surgeries, a septoplasty, and some sort of esophagus thing due to the fact that he used to almost choke to death while swallowing baby aspirin, and I had a baby. All of these surgeries combined cost us about $2.99 out of pocket.

    And when you work for a drug company, guess what? You get their drugs for FREE. I mean, you still need a prescription, but after that minor detail is worked out, they are FREE. It’s enough to make you want to have something wrong with you. “No, I don’t actually have high cholesterol, but prescribe something anyway. IT’S FREE, plus it counts toward my monthly quota!”

    And these braces that I constantly complain about, although I know someday I will be so appreciative of my straight teeth because that’s what everyone keeps telling me, I will forever owe a debt of gratitude to the pharma industry for these teeth. The industry may have shaved 5 years off my life due to the high blood pressure, but at least I will have a beautiful smile while I’m here.

    So, once I started exploring all of our private pay insurance options, I quickly realized that cash money can’t buy an individual policy like the one we had. Yes, we could Cobra our old insurance for 18 months, except that it’s $1500 a month and really, what good is health insurance if you can’t do frivolous things like buy food? The other thing is, truth be told, it was more insurance than we really needed, but I can’t turn down a good deal. Every year when the company would send us our a la carte menu of coverage options, I always checked all the boxes for maximum coverage because I am an insurance agent’s dream come true.

    If I were to ever go to Vegas, I’d be the girl pumping petty change into the nickel slots all day long. I am not really a risk taker. Well, unless someone can guarantee me with ABSOLUTE certainty that the risk will pay off in the end.

    Anyway, I finally found a policy that will work for us. By the way, if you’re ever in need of insurance, a great place to start is at www.ehealthinsurance.com, which will give you various plan benefits and cost comparisons. Just be prepared that your phone will start ringing off the hook with agents looking to “help you out”. They are all so sincere and really, they just want to help you out in the same way a shark looks to protect a wounded mullet.

    Once I started filling out the application, it became apparent to me that insurers are more than happy to take your monthly premium, as long as you can pretty much guarantee that you’ll never actually use the insurance. And an individual policy with maternity coverage? There are rumors that such a thing exists, but I have yet to see it. I guess they figure they can hedge their bets on other illnesses, but for a 30-something woman, pregnancy is inevitable and may even require (oh the horror!) a c-section complete with a 4 day hospital stay.

    After filling out a 114 page application, the insurance company now knows more about my personal health history than my physician. I had to check a box marked “Allergies” as a pre-existing condition. Who doesn’t have allergies? It’s the American way. Those “amber waves of grain” are really just fields of allergy inducing pollen. Allergies are an unalienable right.

    Yet, the insurance companies want no part of it. If you have allergies, buy yourself a Benadryl. If you’re depressed, think happy thoughts. If you have high cholesterol, eat a piece of fish. If you have acid reflux, take a Tums. Prescription medication is for the weak. Doctors visits are overrated. A hospital stay is a luxury akin to going to a 5 star island resort. So what are we paying for?

    Peace of mind.

    The peace of mind that can only come from knowing that, when and if we encounter a health crisis, we can call our insurance company and they will haggle us, perhaps literally, to death. And we get to pay for the privilege.

  • Saturday night’s all right for fighting

    On Friday afternoon, Caroline came running in the house because she wanted a pickle. This has become a little tradition at our house and now, whenever she is helping P in the backhouse, she feels the need to eat pickles. And really, who can blame her? There is nothing more satisfying than a sweet gherkin.

    As I was doling out the pickles, I asked what she and Daddy were doing and she answered, “We’re out back making bullets”. It was one of those statements that causes me to stop and ponder what my life has become. My daughter and my husband are out back making bullets. It’s a sentence that I never imagined would describe my life, along the same lines as “I’m going to wait until these shoes go on sale”.

    But bless their redneck hearts, I love them and their propensity for manufacturing ammo right in our backyard. Nothing says we are right wing, red state Republicans like making homemade bullets.

    Except for maybe this.

    Saturday morning, P asked me how we go about purchasing a pay-per-view event through our Dish Network service. I wasn’t exactly sure since we have never ventured into the land of pay-per-view, and normally, you just push a button on your remote that allows you to buy a program. But when our Dish Network was installed, the helpful technician said foul, horrible things to me like “phone cord running along your living room floor” and “wires that will show”, so I chose Option B which was the no wire option, but also means that we have to call a number to order pay-per-view. And y’all really don’t need to know, nor probably care, about any of this.

    My point is I asked P what pay-per-view event he was wanting to spend money on, because I felt like it was a safe bet that it wasn’t “The Holiday” starring Cameron Diaz and Kate Winslet. Sure enough, he wanted to order UFC 71, which for you novices is Ultimate Fighting Championships 71 (and I don’t know what the 71 stands for). It seems that someone named Chuck Liddell was going to be defending his heavyweight title against someone named Rampage Jackson, and I don’t know much, but based on the names, I’m thinking Rampage sounds a lot more intimidating than Chuck. Rampage is a fighting name, whereas Chuck is more the name of an accountant who coaches Little League teams on the weekend.

    So, last night we had some friends over to watch the Spurs game and then, UFC 71. I even poured some Sour Patch Kids into a bowl to make the occasion that much more festive. Good times.

    I guess the UFC people figure that if you’re paying to watch this event, then they need to give you your money’s worth. It was the longest buildup to a main event that I have ever seen. They had multiple matches with lesser fighters to get the crowd good and ready for Chuck and Rampage. And speaking of the crowd, there were celebrities there including Andre Agassi, Steffi Graf, and Mandy Moore. Mandy Moore a UFC fan? Who knew? There was also a celebrity named Lil John and based on his shiny red tracksuit, gold grill, multiple gold chains and the fact that he has “Lil” in his name, I’m pretty sure he raps for a living.

    Finally, and I do mean FINALLY, it was time for the main event. Rampage came out first wearing a classy, diamond encrusted grill in his mouth and stopping intermittently to howl at the crowd. It was all more than a little disturbing. Then, amid much ado, Chuck Liddell came out and basically strolled down to the ring like he was on his way to show little Johnny how to hit the ball off the tee. No howling, no diamond grill.

    Which may have been his problem.

    About 1 minute into the fight, Rampage landed a right hook across Chuck’s jaw and that was the end, which means we paid about .75 cents a second to see this event. Money well spent, my friends. Well spent.

    Then, in the post-fight interview with Rampage, he was celebrating his victory over Chuck and said, “He didn’t even touch me. My new name should be NO TOUCH”. And at that moment, I decided that hearing that kind of eloquent, witty banter more than justified our purchase. Mr. Rampage (or should I say Mr. NO TOUCH), my hat is off to you, your right hook, and your clever repartee.

    You made it a Saturday night to remember.