The Unknowable Things About Women, Men and Grills

 
I bebopped down the stairs this weekend with the burning question of the day for my husband... "Why do men find grilling manly?" Like any responsible and caring male would do, he promptly paused the T.V. and not only gave me the "Where the heck did this question come from?" look,but also asked where the heck the question came from... I love doing this to him. All I wanted him to do was answer the question and guess what? He got it wrong. He says they don't find it manly. My next question was.. "Then why do men who never cook or fiddle in the kitchen insist on doing the grilling?" I could tell he thought I was trying to stump him, but I wasn't... I really wanted to know why? His response... "They don't!" Beep! Wrong answer. In an effort to jog his memory I rattled off names of friends we both know and who the man always does the grilling when there is grilling to be done. This list included, as he remembered, his very own Father. Usually it involves big fancy (sometimes gleaming) machinery with fancy

barely been used grilling tools, sometimes it's as simple as a tiny charcoal grill you can only cook a couple of steaks on, but without exception most men do the grilling (our house being the exception). All I wanted to know was what part of grilling men find manly.His second answer and the one that was probably closer to the truth was... It must have something to do with cavemen and fire. That makes more sense than anything including the question itself. He wanted to know was why I was wanting to know such an abstract question in the middle of the day. Heh, because it came up in a book I was reading and I just realized that it seemed to be a man thing and I just wanted to know why. He didn't really have an answer (although I think the caveman answer is probably the best of all), but it certainly got him to thinking about something he never really thought about before. Apparently he doesn't look at it as manly, as he's never really looked at it at all. Which makes me wonder if men actually know why they do some of the things they do. I can almost guarantee you that if he asked me an abstract question about why women do some of the things we do, I could instantly explain the unexplainable in a way that would further confound and confuse him to the point that he wished he had never asked the question to begin with. The point being (now, not when I asked him the question) that women know women and what makes them tick more than men know men and what makes them tick. That my friend is the epiphany of the day, which is basically no epiphany at all since I, as a woman, as well as all women around the world, have always known the unknowable things about women.

Sunday Morning With Wee Ones

I got to play hall monitor this morning in the children's section of church. I watched as harried and tired parents hustled their wee ones to the children's area and with a sigh of relief (or reprieve) they headed to the sanctuary for a "Where the rubber meets the road" sermon that hopefully helped them make it through another week.  Young parents need all the help they can get as they work and try to to be super parents to the precious little bundles of joy God has given them. I watched as one Dad walked toward the area with his hands completely full of his wee one. She clasped on the floor in a heap with a little squeal. Finally he got her to use her two legs and they got in line behind other young parents checking their kids into class. As he stood in line we chatted as his wee one pretended he was a jungle gym, hanging from his pockets, climbing up his leg.  I couldn't help but chuckle as I told him that all too soon his frantic house would fall eerily silent due to the fact that wee ones grow up much faster than we anticipate.  Time certainly seems to fly when you're raising kids and having so much fun you can hardly stand it. I remember Sunday mornings with little ones. I remember being so flustered by the time I got to church, I felt like I needed to walk straight into the sanctuary and hit the alter to pray through before church started. For some reason (maybe it's because I was a bit of control freak where dressing the kids were concerned) my husband never grasped the idea that although boys shirts buttoned in the front, little girls dresses typically buttoned in the back. Nor did he understand the concept that little girls socks needed to be put on in what looked like an inside out fashion so when you turned the cuffs down the lacy side showed. He never did understand the need for a big glob of K-Y Jelly on the top of a bald head so a bow (which matched the dress that buttoned in the back) could be held in place. Yep, I raised my two oldest in the days before giant headbands for baby girls and nurseries with nursery attendants for all ages of children. Back in the day we had the task of keeping our babies and toddlers occupied during service, making sure they didn't disrupt the whole church.  We tried to glean nuggets out of the sermon between juggling our kids, but sometimes we were just proud that we made it there and back home in one piece. When service was over, I felt like I had been mauled by a couple of pit bulls (for some reason my husband never felt that way). Yeah, the sight of harried parents and squealing children brought back all of those delightful memories this morning and as I walked away I realized just thinking about them made me extremely tired.  I suppose that's why God lets you have kids when you are young.  Even with the mauling, the climbing and the projectile vomiting, I still wouldn't trade those memories for a room full of gold. I do so enjoy watching today's young parents fight the good fight and I especially enjoy watching grandparents pitching in, helping out and making the fight a little easier. One little guy passed by me this morning who was the spitting image of his papa and and I don't know.... It just makes me smile. Maybe some day I'll have a little one who is the spitting image of their Lolly.... Oh, won't that be fun!!!!!

Mirror Mirror on the Wall

I lay in my bed (feeling pretty proud of myself) and wanted to share my good news with a good friend. So I sent her a text with the latest JackieWorld news bulletin, knowing she would be both tickled pink and thrilled to death. Shock of shock, horror of all horrors, she was neither... "You are so spoiled!" the text read. Well Duh!!! Is that suppose to be headlining news? Geeze! I like to sugar coat it with the title of "blessed" but spoiled works too. Who says I can't stand it when people are real (chuckle, chuckle) with me. I was neither shocked, mad, insulted, or hurt that she dared to speak the truth (she added an LOL at the end so that made it easier to swallow) because you know what??? I already knew the truth. I also know people that know me know the truth too. still it never hurts to have people tell you what you already know, in fact some times it's just plain good for you. There is nothing like someone grabbing you by the chin and having you take a good close look at yourself... "Mirror mirror on the wall" Trust me there have been plenty of times I've given her a good (but loving) look in the mirror too... Like when she tells me she wants Botox. I have no problem telling her that is the most asinine thing I've ever heard, or when she tells me she wants a Gastric Bybass, I really blast her then. She lives through it, I do too and it's probably one of the reasons we're such good friends. Last time we visited I mentioned the spoiled rotten text to her and she promptly put her head on the table and laughed.... "I hope you didn't take that wrong." I certainly didn't, I took it as the absolute truth and didn't have a hard time swallowing it. She could have called me a lot worse, but guess she is saving the rest for later (guess I'll have to get my big girl panties on). Yeah, we're still friends, I appreciated the honesty and I don't thinks she loves me any less because I'm spoiled and I don't love her any less for saying it. Like I've said before, it's not what people says that bother me, but what they don't say. The eyes are windows to the soul and the most painful things are sometimes left unsaid because there is malice behind them that can't be hidden.... With or without words. They say that truth is stranger than fiction, but trust me.... Nothing can be as strange as what I see staring back at me in the mirror of my soul sometimes. Just because I hope others are blind to it, doesn't mean they are. I appreciate those who give me a little heads up on the fact that I may need to get my stuff under control...  Friends should be comfortable enough with one another to be lovingly honest, brazenly bold and eagerly open to helping each other strive toward self improvement. If I want someone to agree with me on everything than I'll never have friendships that run very deep. If someone needs a friend who is always going to stroke their ego and tell them they are right, then they probably don't want to choose me (frankly I suck at ego stroking).  Of course the key to everything is LOVE. You're not going to nit pick someone you love to death over every little thing. You're not going to be hatefully honest with someone you love. And you certainly don't want to see someone you love meander down a path of self destruction just because no one around them had the guts to be honest with them because they fear their wrath. My friends have authorization to stop me in mid stride should I head down a dangerous path and I choose my friends wisely enough to know they will do it with love, caring concern, with hopefully a dose of humor on the side (because humor softens the blow of everything). Meanwhile, I'll try to keep a handle on the spoiled rotten, queen of all things routine (although I'll admit I'm really good at that act). Apparently it gets on some peoples nerves and I certainly wouldn't want to do that.  You know who you are and I just wanted to tell you thanks for being a friend, thanks for loving me in spite and if you do get Botox.... I promise to make fun of your perma-smile:-)

Letting Go - He Fills the Void

                                   You pried my finger from it...

So you could have control...

The process took much longer...

I was slow in letting go...

With gentle eyes you looked at me...

In a tender whisper said...

Things will be much easier...

Just give it to me instead...

White knuckles wrapped around it...

Holding oh so tight...

This thing I really wanted...

In my hand it felt so right...

But deep inside the whole of me...

I knew it had no place...

Why hold to something harmful...

When joy could take it's place...

The choice seemed oh so simple...

To lose or much to gain...

A very simple process...

Or one that caused much pain...

I need only to surrender...

What I held with all my might...

And risk the pain in knowing...

The choice had all been mine...

Or release to him with freedom...

Rest knowing my choice was right...

No longer carry the burden...

For a load no longer mine...

With trepid hesitation...

I slowly did release...

And found a flood of comfort...

A sense of such relief...

His mercy swept right over me...

A flow that felt so sweet...

I knew without reluctance...

What I had held I had no need...

He took what was empty...

And I'd worked so hard to fill...

 His grace replaced the void...

The wounds could now be healed...

http://tbirecovery4sp.blogspot.com/2011/03/missing-pieces.html

Losing the Battle But Winning the War

Ephesians 6:12 (New International Version, ©2011)

¹² For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.

Today I certainly feel like I lost the battle. My weakness is that all too often I don't recognize my stuggles as being spiritual, but tend to look at them as being all emotions and just the drama of day to day living. If I would just stop for one second and look at things as they are instead of how they appear, I would be much better off. Having been raised in Girl World (which is my personal term for all things female), I sluff things off as just being pure emotion rather than looking at them for what they are which is a spiritual attack from the very bowels of hell. Why, why, why do I do that? Oh wait.... maybe because I'm human. I don't look at myself as a mighty warrior because deep down inside I don't feel like I'm enough of a threat to be in the war (I'm just being... well I won't say real, but I will say brutally honest). Honestly I wish I could just tuck my emotions in a suitcase and ship them to another universe, or give them the strong arm out the back door so I wouldn't have to deal with them. Then again if I woke up every morning prepared for the days battle, I might be a little more successful in knocking a few of those battles out. I've come to know that arming yourself isn't a one time deal but something you do every second of every minute of every hour of every day of your life.  Yep, you got it.... This is a self scholding blog post. So Jac, today you lost the battle but at least you live to fight another day and will rise to win the war because Sister it's not over till the fat lady sings or the trumpet blows. Gird yourself up girl and let's get-er-done, with a little more style tomorrow and in really cute shoes (cause in heavenly Girl World the whole armor includes cute shoes.... They kick butt)

Ephesians 6:11 (New International Version, ©2011)

¹¹ Put on the full armor of God, so that you can take your stand against the devil’s schemes.

Breast Cancer Tunnel Vision

I woke up this morning for my morning work out but my mind was definitely somewhere else. A dear friend who has been battling breast cancer for over a year is having what will be her last surgery this morning. Gosh, I wish I could be there with her, in fact it would suit me just fine if I could just stand in for her so she wouldn't have to recover from yet another surgery. This is one of those times when I wish I had the powers of Samantha on Bewitched. I would wiggle my nose and it would all be over. Although the tunnel has been dark for her at times, she has come through with amazing strength. Her power to look beyond herself is what I believe has been a big part of her getting through. God has put a vision in her heart for those who put their lives on the line for the cause of Christ. Instead of putting all of her energy in feeling sorry for herself, she has put that energy in making others aware of the plight of missionaries all over the world. I have no doubt that God will bless and has blessed her greatly for her faithfulness and for having tunnel vision for others instead of tunnel vision for herself. I can't express

my joy enough, that there is finally light at the end of her tunnel and her recovery will be a testimony to breast cancer survivors all over the world.