Gross subject. Gross past 24 hours. I hate gross.
My stomach churned and I felt sick. I hoped it was from the previous 8 throw ups I cleaned. Nope, I caught it too.
I hate being sick. I feel helpless. There were pies to make. Baked corn to bake. A house to clean. Family to join. Derrick made the pies, pumpkin, from scratch. Mixed and baked the baked corn. Mopped and vacuumed. Joined the family.
Ryse and I are watching Max & Ruby and drinking apple juice. She seems to feel a little better asking to 'peas go to gammas house' every 30 seconds. It broke her heart for her to stay home tonight. Mine too, to be honest. A quiet house. Hot bath. A bed to myself...sounded wonderful. Although I admit now, I love her cuddles and her silly conversations with the television. Her awkwardly crooked pony tails tell the story of her last 24 hours.
Back to Max & Ruby- she sure is bossy.
Thursday, November 25, 2010
Friday, November 12, 2010
Pockets were made for junk...
Wednesday night I attended the last night of an amazing missions conference at our church. Seriously, amazing. I had low expectations for it, because I wanted to not like it, but every night I sat, pen in hand hanging on every word.
We sang Revelation Song on Wednesday evening. Music got louder, voices got stronger, and hands went up. My hands, however, clenched both in my pockets, sweating. Why? Because arguments say to raise your hands is only emotional. That first annoyed me because of who said it, then annoyed me because it was a petty comment.
I moved to Chicago to go to school in 2003. Our first chapel the music started and hands went up every where. I felt weird. I didn't raise my hands. I got used to it. Why was that weird that people would use their emotions to worship the God who created emotions? Some people yell at the tv. Some don't. Both can be equally excited about the Brown's touchdown....or lack of. Some even jump out of the chair, some slap high five, some chest bump. All of this is normal- but whatever you do, don't get excited about God. Do not show excitement about the one who created the universe, yourself, your emotions. Bottle them up....please, for the sake of looking stupid, let your hands sweat in your pocket.
Seriously now, in my opinion, pockets were made for cold hands and junk. Bobby pins for when you're hair falls in your face. Chapstick for nasty lips. Coffee cash. For looking bored. Pockets are also made to make your pants look cool. Emotions were made to express. Happy, sad, mad, bored, overwhelmed, or excited.
It's a weird thing to defend, emotions. So I'll back down, surrendering, hands in the air [punny?], and say yes petty person, it is emotional to raise your hands. I like emotions.
We sang Revelation Song on Wednesday evening. Music got louder, voices got stronger, and hands went up. My hands, however, clenched both in my pockets, sweating. Why? Because arguments say to raise your hands is only emotional. That first annoyed me because of who said it, then annoyed me because it was a petty comment.
I moved to Chicago to go to school in 2003. Our first chapel the music started and hands went up every where. I felt weird. I didn't raise my hands. I got used to it. Why was that weird that people would use their emotions to worship the God who created emotions? Some people yell at the tv. Some don't. Both can be equally excited about the Brown's touchdown....or lack of. Some even jump out of the chair, some slap high five, some chest bump. All of this is normal- but whatever you do, don't get excited about God. Do not show excitement about the one who created the universe, yourself, your emotions. Bottle them up....please, for the sake of looking stupid, let your hands sweat in your pocket.
Seriously now, in my opinion, pockets were made for cold hands and junk. Bobby pins for when you're hair falls in your face. Chapstick for nasty lips. Coffee cash. For looking bored. Pockets are also made to make your pants look cool. Emotions were made to express. Happy, sad, mad, bored, overwhelmed, or excited.
It's a weird thing to defend, emotions. So I'll back down, surrendering, hands in the air [punny?], and say yes petty person, it is emotional to raise your hands. I like emotions.
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
Whoever said life's not fair...
was right. I'm not a negative person. I feel like I put much effort into keeping my head up and trying to look on the bright side. When I began writing this blog I wanted to finish "but God took care of it by..." but decided that I'm not going to feel bad for being negative for just a little. Please don't think I think my life is horrible. Allow me to get it out, have a small pity party, wipe my eyes, and keep moving through life with my head held high.
Life's not fair. I learned this 13 years ago today.
November 2, 2007
I was in 7th grade when dad was diagnosed with melanoma. 12 years old. He was sick for 4 weeks....4 weeks. He's with God now, and a lot of really other cool people if you start making a list. He wouldn't come back if he could. But me. 12. No dad. I've learned how unfair this is in the last 13 years. The older I get the more frustrating it can become. It's not fair.
It's not fair that a dad like mine got sick. He was funny. He was intelligent. He was hardworking. He loved everyone, and anyone. He had odd people in his life because of that. He did anything for anyone. He provided for our family. He wanted mom at home, even if it meant the only money we had for dessert was for 7 people to split a candy bar. He protected us. Sometimes too much, but I miss that. He had manners, and wanted us to as well. He smiled a lot, an unforgettable smile. He read the Bible...a lot. He compared all of our circumstances to those of people in the Bible. He was a positive person, even when he was sick. I watched him once life weights in a bath robe. He wanted to stay strong to beat the cancer. He wanted to make sure we were okay when he was sick. That's not fair.
I've done so much without him. That's not fair. I became a teenageer. I went to my first prom. I graduated high school and moved to college. I got engaged. He couldn't walk me down the isle. He wasn't there when his grandkids were born. He's not here to see how ornery they are. They don't have his lap to crawl on while his big hands turn the pages of books he's reading. It's not fair.
I know he'd be proud. He'd love the spouses that were brought into this family for so many reasons. I know he'd love Abby, Claire, Mack, Ryse & Symira. He'd be so excited to have another one on the way. I know God is totally taking care of us. I know we were lucky to have him as long as we did. I'm just saying, it's not fair he's not here. 13 years without him is to long.
Life's not fair. I learned this 13 years ago today.
November 2, 2007
I was in 7th grade when dad was diagnosed with melanoma. 12 years old. He was sick for 4 weeks....4 weeks. He's with God now, and a lot of really other cool people if you start making a list. He wouldn't come back if he could. But me. 12. No dad. I've learned how unfair this is in the last 13 years. The older I get the more frustrating it can become. It's not fair.
It's not fair that a dad like mine got sick. He was funny. He was intelligent. He was hardworking. He loved everyone, and anyone. He had odd people in his life because of that. He did anything for anyone. He provided for our family. He wanted mom at home, even if it meant the only money we had for dessert was for 7 people to split a candy bar. He protected us. Sometimes too much, but I miss that. He had manners, and wanted us to as well. He smiled a lot, an unforgettable smile. He read the Bible...a lot. He compared all of our circumstances to those of people in the Bible. He was a positive person, even when he was sick. I watched him once life weights in a bath robe. He wanted to stay strong to beat the cancer. He wanted to make sure we were okay when he was sick. That's not fair.
I've done so much without him. That's not fair. I became a teenageer. I went to my first prom. I graduated high school and moved to college. I got engaged. He couldn't walk me down the isle. He wasn't there when his grandkids were born. He's not here to see how ornery they are. They don't have his lap to crawl on while his big hands turn the pages of books he's reading. It's not fair.
I know he'd be proud. He'd love the spouses that were brought into this family for so many reasons. I know he'd love Abby, Claire, Mack, Ryse & Symira. He'd be so excited to have another one on the way. I know God is totally taking care of us. I know we were lucky to have him as long as we did. I'm just saying, it's not fair he's not here. 13 years without him is to long.
Maybe later I'll write a more positive upbeat blog on how great he was and how wonderful
the family he left is. I'm glad I'm a part of it.
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