Year: 2007

  • Wandering towards my own Canaan

    I walked into church three weeks ago feeling frustrated, overwhelmed and impatient. I’m in the midst of some life changes right now and, while I trust God’s hand is in all of it, sometimes I lose sight of that.

    When circumstances get too big or seem to be different than what I want, the doubts start creeping in. Thoughts of, what if this isn’t the right thing? What if I heard God wrong? What if I’ve quit my job and it was a mistake? I get scared. I’m not any different from anyone else. We all like to feel in control of every aspect of our lives, and it’s hard to let go and surrender that control.

    It’s hard to say “I trust” no matter what.

    Over the last year, I’ve had some fairly significant changes. I left a job that I’d been in for 10 years. As much as I don’t like to admit how much security I found in that job and my income, it’s the truth. I based a lot of my security on knowing what was going in our bank account every two weeks. I based a lot of security on insurance and 401k plans and my abilities.

    So, when P and I decided that it was time to quit my job after a long series of circumstances, it was a big leap of faith. P’s business is seasonal and there is never any guaranteed income. Add to that a long, rainy summer and a back surgery and it’s enough to make me worry.

    Three weeks ago, I walked into church feeling all those feelings. I grabbed a bulletin and saw that our pastor was starting a new series on destiny. Specifically, finding our God-given destiny. I wanted to cry.

    The scripture passage he referenced that first week was Genesis 12:1-5, where the Lord said to Abram, “Leave your country and your father’s household and go to the land I will show you.” I had just studied this same passage the week before in my “Woman’s Heart” Bible study and known then that God was speaking to me. So when my pastor started teaching from that very same chapter, I felt a little like God was holding a big megaphone and saying, “HEY, YOU. YES, YOU OF LITTLE FAITH. I HAVE A PLAN.”

    Abram had no idea what God had in store for him. His mind couldn’t have even conceived what God was going to do, but yet he packed up his camels and what-have-you, loaded the family up and headed out towards a strange land. What made him do it? His faith. His faith that God wasn’t going to do him wrong. His faith that God wasn’t going to lead him to a place with no provision for him and his family. His faith in God’s promises.

    What if Abram had stayed? What if he had decided the whole venture was just a little too risky? What if he chose to stick with what was familiar? I don’t know the answer to all that, other than knowing that God wouldn’t have been able to use him the way he did. Sure, God has a destiny for all of us, a plan that He has known since before we took a breath, but He never forces us to do anything. We take our own steps, whether they are towards His will or away from it.

    The thing that’s scary is, sometimes the steps towards His will are the hardest of all because they require us to leave the familiar. Wasn’t it Loretta Lynn who said, “Better the devil you know than the devil you don’t.”? And yes, I just quoted Loretta Lynn (and really, I’m fairly certain the quote didn’t originate with her) because it’s part of my charm.

    It’s all about faith. “By faith, Abraham, when called to go to a place he would later receive as his inheritance, obeyed and went, even though he did not know where he was going.” Hebrews 11 even goes on to say how God used Abraham even though “he was as good as dead”. I’m not great, but I’m certainly doing better than that.

    Anyway, that’s how I feel right now. I’m not sure where I am going. I know God has a plan. I’ve seen large pieces of that plan start to come together, but not as quickly as I’d like. It’s not on my timetable and I start to feel scared. I start to doubt. It starts to seem too good to be true.

    That Sunday, my pastor said, “Faith recognizes that the voice of destiny is really the voice of God”. Then he asked us, “Do we believe that? Do we believe he cares enough?” And, at that moment, I realized the deeper question stirring inside of me was, do I believe God sees the value in me? The Sunday School answer is yes, but the reality is deeper than that.

    Over the last few months as I’ve seen incredible things happen in my life and watched God put amazing pieces of the puzzle together, the question that has been gnawing away at the very heart of me is, who am I to deserve any of this? I am so flawed and so weak. Some days my faith wouldn’t even rate as average. I relate all to well to the man who asked Jesus to heal his son in Mark 9:23-24. Jesus told him everything is possible for him who believes and the father exclaimed, “I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief!”

    It makes me laugh because I relate to it all too well. How many times have I done the same thing, professed how much I believe and then prayed to overcome all my doubts in the same breath? Too many to count. Seriously. I am a weak vessel.

    But, so was Abraham. And so was Moses. And so was King David. They all had moments of doubt, moments where they took matters into their own hands and tried their best to screw everything up. Yet, God had amazing plans for them. He used them in spite of their human limitations. Only God can do that. Only He can take the weak things of this world and use them for His plans and purposes.

    He is the architect and the builder. My job is to take the step of faith, away from what I know and away from the security I cling to, towards what He is building with my life. He never promised it would be easy and He certainly never promised it would be on my timetable, He just promised that with Him all things are possible and He’ll be with me always.

    “For we are God’s workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.” Ephesians 2:10

  • Happiness is Lubbock, Texas in my rearview mirror

    I don’t think it will really surprise anyone to know that the A&M game today caused me to make chocolate chip cookies so that I could self-medicate with cookie dough.

    Here’s a little history lesson.

    The last time the Aggies won in Lubbock was 1993.

    I was at the game.

    As a student.

    I should have known after last week’s game when Coach Fran said, “We may not win another game all season…” that he wasn’t kidding.

    But seriously, there may not be enough chocolate to get me through the rest of the season.

  • Edition 4: Fashion Friday

    Remember that song from the movie “Annie” that said you’re never fully dressed without a smile?

    Yeah. That song lied.

    Whoever said that, totally discounted the fact that smiles come and go, but good accessories last forever, or until they go out of style.

    Many of y’all have emailed asking about fall handbags. In fact, AJ and I even looked for a good handbag for her while we were shopping, but it seems that I have crossed over into appreciating the “Mom Bag”. I was hit with this realization when I pointed out a really cute purse to AJ and she said, “Oh yeah, that would be perfect for you. It’s a Mom Bag”.

    She said it in the same voice you would use to describe something that smells bad. “Oh, that smell? That’s chicken that’s been in the garbage can all night.”

    However, she is young. She’s at a point in her life where she can leave the house for 24 hours and only take a cell phone and a tube of lipstick. In fact, while she was trying on a pair of jeans at Neimans, I remarked that they had an odd little pocket inside the actual back pocket. I wondered aloud what is was for and she explained it’s the perfect place to just put your I.D. when you go out.

    Like at night.

    As in somewhere other than HEB to buy allergy medicine for your child.

    Hmm.

    These days the only thing I need my I.D. for is to collect my social security check.

    Oh, I kid because I feel old.

    Anyway, I am not a girl who changes purses to go with various outfits. That would involve way too much transferring of various lipsticks, gum, HEB Buddy Bucks, juice boxes and Nilla wafers. For the most part, unless I have a special event, I carry one purse per season. And after that season is over, I usually put the purse out to pasture.

    There is only so much grape juice the lining of one bag can absorb.

    Since so many people have asked for fall purse recommendations, here are some cute ones I have found.

    This red purse from Target

    This brown suede tote bag, also from Target. By the way, I don’t know why the Target photographer hates this bag, it’s much cuter in person.

    How about this smaller brown purse? Two guesses where you can buy it. Oh, and it also comes in red, camel or black.

    But if money were no object, just like it is in my dreams, I would love to carry this Kate Spade bag. Can’t you almost smell the real suede?

    Of course, even if money were no object, grape juice and graham crackers are just a part of who I am. It would be a travesty to unleash that horror on what is certainly not faux-suede.

    And I wouldn’t want to carry it everyday, but I would love this purse because it’s just pure fun. I saw one that was similar to this in TJ Maxx about a month ago and was thrilled. Until I looked at the price tag and saw that it was marked down to $350.00.

    MARKED DOWN to $350.00.

    When did TJ Maxx get so full of itself?

    Bottom line, there are a bunch of really great purses to be found for fall, whether you lean towards the “Mom Bag” or just need a cute little something to keep your I.D. in when it’s not in the fancy little pocket of your jeans.

    Now, for a few questions.

    1. Serah and Jenny both asked: “What do you wear on your legs in the winter when you’re wearing a dress or a skirt?”

    Ladies, I am going to be honest and say that a lot of the time I wear nothing on my legs. Nobody said fashion is painless.

    Sometimes you just have to be cold if you want to look good. I believe Eleanor Roosevelt said that.

    However, I live in a climate where cold temperatures mean in the 40’s and if it’s that cold, I’ll usually just wear pants.

    That being said, I’ve been very excited to see the return of the black tight. I love the look of black tights with boots. And if the boots scare you, then wear the tights with a good black shoe like these that are sturdy enough to balance the tights. It will create a long, lean line even if you’re not very tall. That’s my recommendation, but I realize not everyone is a fan of the black tight.

    Does anyone have any other suggestions? What do y’all do up north where it actually freezes on occasion?

    And please don’t say legwarmers, unless you’re a professional dancer.

    2. Jodie asked: “Okay, so I have a fashion question. What’s the word on overalls?”

    The word is no.

    At least that’s my word.

    I know they’re comfortable, but unless I decide to start growing corn in my backyard I’m staying away from them. I believe I confessed my unfortunate maternity overall situation a few weeks ago. There are some scars that even time can’t erase.

    However, some people like overalls. I used to be one of them. So, if you like them you should wear them and be proud.

    And send me a bushel of tomatoes.

    3. Shannon asked: “So, elaborate on the high-heels-as-an-acquired skill thing. Because right now, I can’t say I believe you. I’m afraid some girls (like me) are destined to be wobbly-ankled klutzes their whole lives. But assuming you CAN acquire the skill, do they ever become more comfortable to you?”

    Gulley saw this question in the comments a few weeks ago and called me immediately with her advice. She says that she, too, used to be a wobbly-ankled klutz, but was at a point in her life where she needed to wear heels to work everyday so she wore them around the house and even VACUUMED while wearing them. Practice made perfect and she began to feel comfortable walking in heels.

    However, now that she’s been out of the work force for almost 6 years, she is out of high heel shape.

    I can attest that walking in heels is an acquired skill. I had to wear heels to work almost every day for 10 years and it just became second nature. That being said, I still had days where I would come home and have to put band-aids on blisters and drink heavily to forget the pain in my feet.

    It’s a good thing I quit work when I did because I was going down a dangerous path that could have easily led to corns and bunions.

    Now, I only wear heels on occasion and they have to be comfortable. If you’re a heel novice, look for wedge heels. They are your friend because they distribute weight more evenly.

    4. Kelly asked: “What does a fashionable lady wear when she’s throwing up every 34.5 minutes?”

    Not a smile, I can guarantee you that.

    Finally, to wrap things up. I have one more fashion find to share. Gulley’s sister, also known as The Other Gulley, emailed me the other day and so I asked her for her thoughts on fall fashion. She lives on the East Coast and is fab, so I knew she’d have a good tip.

    She told me that it’s all about the dress right now and even included a picture of a darling sweater dress she purchased to wear with tights and boots for the fall. It’s from J.Crew.

    It also comes in black. And best of all, it’s on sale right now.

    I hope it goes without saying that if y’all are going to try the sweater dress, you’re going to need some good foundation garments.

    You know you’re never fully dressed without them.

    And a good purse.

    And maybe a smile.

    Y’all have a great Friday!

  • We finally got a piece of the pie

    I am here to tell y’all that what the Bible says is true. “Weeping may remain for a night, but joy comes in the morning”.

    Or, a stomach virus remains for the night, but joy comes two mornings later.

    After two days of wondering if I had been infected with the E.Coli, I finally started to feel better late yesterday afternoon. Maybe it was due to the fact that I was able to get plenty of rest, maybe it was due to the fact that I knew Caroline was going back to school, or maybe it was the fact that P came in and told me he had made arrangements for Ava to come clean the house today.

    Bless P’s heart. He knows one of my love languages is hiring someone else to clean my house. It moved me to tears of joy.

    I’ve gotten to the point where I can clean my own house. The problem is it’s never all clean at the same time. I have time management issues due to my OCD. I start to clean, then notice that the glass on my chandelier is filthy, and the next thing I know I am scouring the chandelier. And then I realize the baseboards in the dining room are totally dirty, but I haven’t noticed because the dust on the chandelier was obscuring the lighting. All of a sudden 4 hours have passed and I have clean dining room baseboards, but little else to show for my efforts.

    So, I go eat an ice cream sandwich and call it a day.

    Anyway, the other reason I was feeling better was because AJ and I had a shopping trip planned. Plus, as a bonus, she was going to let me go to her house first and help her throw some of her old clothes out. It was like Christmas and my birthday all rolled into one.

    Before AJ’s mama passed away, one of her last requests was that AJ’s daddy continue to pay for the girls’ clothing, makeup, manicures, pedicures, highlights, etc. In her words, “anything that will help them find a husband”.

    Do you see why her mother was such a wonderful woman? I mean, talk about looking out for your daughters. That’s a rich legacy.

    My daddy would have never agreed to anything like that, because he knows me well enough to know that I would have never given up the free clothing. P and I would be living in sin, but I would have a fab closet full of Jimmy Choos and weekly pedicures to take the sting out of my wayward lifestyle.

    I’m kidding.

    I’d probably prefer Manolo Blahniks over Jimmy Choos.

    Anyway, AJ enlisted my help because at some point I’ve convinced her I know what I’m talking about. She sees me on an almost daily basis so she certainly knows I don’t always practice what I preach, but she trusts me anyway.

    She told her daddy that we were going shopping, so he got on the phone last night and told me there were a couple of rules. First, don’t even go in Neiman Marcus. Second, AJ is a pretty girl and will look just as good in a $130 skirt as a $400 skirt. I don’t get the impression he shops much.

    Or knows the going rate for your average skirt.

    AJ and I spent a little bit of time going through her closet this morning. At some point I’m going to need to go back for a complete closet overhaul. There were wire hangers everywhere and shirts and pants running amok. And y’all don’t even want to know about some of the fine knitwear crumpled up in little balls and stuffed into rubbermaid containers. It’s just too sad.

    We assessed her basic fashion needs and headed out to La Cantera. First stop, Neiman Marcus. We totally broke the rule right out of the gate. But, in our defense, she needed jeans. Nice jeans. And Neimans really has the best jean selection. I’m proud to say we walked out of there with 2 new pairs of jeans, one of which I made her try on even though she didn’t think she’d like them. And she did. She liked them and bought them. I was so proud and only a little envious of her fabulous new jeans with little front pockets that made me want to take them home with me, and cherish them forever. Or at least until little front pockets are out of style.

    After that, we promptly vacated Neiman Marcus and headed to the more reasonable Banana Republic.

    We found a really cute dress and took it into the dressing room. We couldn’t find any zippers or buttons, so AJ just started pulling it over her head. And got stuck.

    She wanted to give up. She started to pull it back off saying, “This isn’t going to work”. But oh no. I wasn’t taking no for an answer. That dress wouldn’t beat us. I told her, as if she was training for a marathon, “DON’T GIVE UP. YOU’VE GOT TO REALLY WANT IT.”

    True story.

    And then we collapsed with laughter in the dressing room.

    After all that, the dress let us down. It just wasn’t all it needed to be. However, we did find a darling dress at Anthropologie which should come as no big shock. I believe my love of Anthropologie is well-documented.

    Finally, AJ was shopped out. I could have kept going, but I could tell she was fading fast. She’s not really a shopper at heart and, while I don’t understand that, I accept it.

    We ended our day by having lunch on the balcony at The Mariposa in Neiman’s. We drank fresh strawberry lemonade, ate croissants as big as our head, and had the best chicken salad sandwich ever. Y’all want to know what makes a chicken salad sandwich even better? Bacon. And swiss cheese.

    It was delightful. Even better than Whataburger if you can imagine such a thing.

    AJ dropped me off and I walked into my house, which smelled of lemony clean freshness. My floors were mopped, my kitchen was scrubbed and my toilet paper was folded into neat triangles on the end.

    Then, I realized it was about time to pick Caroline up from school, so I headed to my car. A car, by the way, that P had one of his workers completely wash, wax and vacuum for me.

    I’m sorry. Did I wake up as one of the Trumps without realizing it? Did I move on up to the East side? Is this how George and Weesie felt?

    I’ve got to say, I could get used to it.

    Especially since Ava doesn’t backtalk like that sassy Florence.

    And if you were born after 1980, you don’t know what I’m talking about. Which is probably just as well.

    Just know it means I had a good day.

  • Artistic integrity

    Here’s an example of what happens when I’m sick.

    I am weak.

    And defenseless.

    I got out the paints and made her promise not to paint the bottoms of her feet. For some reason she thinks painting the bottoms of her feet is the utmost in artistic expression.

    Needless to say, I have learned the hard way that it is a lot of work to clean painted footprints off hardwood floors.

    To her credit, she followed my instructions and did not paint her feet.

    Tomorrow is a school day. I think that’s for the best.

  • 1492: the year Columbus discovered America or the number of times I was sick last night

    Last night, when I wrote that post about my stomach virus, I had no idea that the worst was yet to come. I have never in my life been so sick.

    Before I had Caroline I hadn’t had a stomach virus in probably 10 years. Now, I average one every 6 months. Having a child is the equivalent of having one of those African monkeys that spread rampant disease.

    Except my child is potty-trained and not from Africa.

    I woke up this morning around 9:30. P got up with Caroline and mercifully, let me sleep in. Since the head of our bed is right against the wall to our master bath, no one knew better than him what a horrendous night I had. Every now and then throughout the night, he’d call out, “Do you need anything?”

    Yes. A better immune system.

    And new intestines.

    And some Phenegran.

    Maybe a mallet to put myself out of my misery.

    However, those things are hard to come by at 3:30 a.m.

    Anyway, I stumbled into the living room this morning feeling as if I’d been run over by a bus and then a truck. P took one look at me and said, “You look awful”.

    I do. I look awful.

    It would seem that the evening’s festivities caused me to break little blood vessels all over my face, especially around my eyes. Caroline said, “OH MAMA! You have the chicken pox”.

    I should be so lucky. The chicken pox would look good compared to what is going on in my facial area.

    I have some major complexion issues that don’t appear to be subsiding as the day goes on. Picture deep red freckles all over my face and then multiply the hideousness of that image by 1,000.

    Needless to say, I have had happier Columbus Day celebrations.

    Caroline had the day off school so I had envisioned spending Columbus Day building small scale models of the Nina, the Pinta, and the Santa Maria while giving her a rich history lesson of Columbus and his amazing voyage across the ocean way back in 1492.

    Or, I thought we could go to Target.

    Neither of those things came to pass.

    Instead, Caroline spent the morning with P. They made bullets in the backhouse, because that’s what little girls do.

    Around lunchtime she came inside and wanted a bowl of oatmeal for lunch. I figured I could power through making a bowl of oatmeal. I lovingly microwaved the oatmeal and set it in front of her, while desperately trying not to get sick. She took one look at it and said, “That looks BISGUSTING. Did you throw up in this bowl?”

    And I wondered if I could trade her in for one of those monkeys from Africa.

    But instead, had P take her over to Mimi’s house for the rest of the day. Thank God for Mimi.

    I went back to bed and slept for 3 hours because I was too sick to even watch T.V.

    Let your brain wrap around the seriousness of that statement.

    On the plus side, in yesterday’s comments, Leslie reminded me of a line from “The Devil Wears Prada”, “I’m just a stomach flu away from my goal weight”.

    I’m well on my way. Especially since I only ate 2 Saltines today. If I keep this up I’ll be able to go into the holiday season with a 5 pound deficit. That way, when I gain 10 pounds from eating all the pie, I’ll still just be 5 pounds on the plus side.

    But I must be on my way to recovery because I’m actually starting to think about a cheeseburger from Whataburger. For some reason, this is my cure-all. When I had morning sickness with Caroline, I knew that a Whataburger cheeseburger with extra mustard would ease my misery.

    And no, I am definitely not pregnant. I just enjoy the healing properties of mustard.

    With a side of fries.