Church

Recently my daughter’s teacher asked me if we go to church?

My son and daughter attend a private Christian School, and I wondered hesitantly if she was asking because one of them had done something wrong.

But then I thought, I do go to church everday.

Every morning when I wake up and thank God for another day; and I pray that I will be a good person and do the best I can to do His will. I also pray that I’ll win the lotto, AND promise to share the winnings.

Every time someone asks me for help or advice, and I can sit, listen and we work together to find a solution.

[1 Corinthians 14:26 What then, brothers? When you come together, each one has a hymn, a lesson, a revelation, a tongue, or an interpretation. Let all things be done for building up.]

When my dad tells me stories about his past experiences, situations he faced, and how God helped him get through when he was certain failure was at hand.

When I give money to the homeless lady, not knowing where the money will go, but certain that’s as far as my job goes.

Every time I go over the homework with my kids; when they happily recite their weekly bible verse from memory; when we read; when I watch them play together or help each other out; when they pick up their room. That last one happens… sometimes. Besides, cleanliness is next to Godliness… Isn’t that one of the commandments?

When I lay down with each of my three kids at night and pray with them.

[Matthew 18:20 For where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them.]

My youngest doesn’t really know what she’s doing, but she puts her hands together and says thank you for everything from Mom and Dad, to pollitos and papitas.

When my family gets together on saturday nights, despite our differences of opinions and lifestyles. Family always comes first, THEN cigars, whiskey and pork rinds.

When I lay down in my bed at the end of a long day and pray for family, friends, work (Please less work); when I give thanks for all I that I have; when I look up a verse on my bible app, or read a short devotional.

There’s an app for everything! iChurch? J/K O_o



Without a doubt going to church has its merits. It reinforces what you believe, reminds you to practice good habits. At times, the message speaks to you, like it was specifically tailored to your struggles that week.

But if you listen, God is speaking to you all day long, through the people and situations you endure, at work, at school, at home, even in your dreams; in every opportunity that you are given to be like Him.

I guess I could make time to go to church, but I don’t want to dedicate just one day, morning or afternoon to be open to God’s message.

**********

Rather than go into that long explanation, and fearing the awkward silence had already lasted longer than a second, I replied, “No, we don’t go to church.”

“Really? I thought most certainly that you did. Your daughter is so sweet, and the way she talks about God, I just can’t believe it. She is just such a sweet little girl, and a joy to teach. You are obviously doing a good job.”

[Proverbs 22:6
Direct your children onto the right path, and when they are older, they will not leave it.]

I gave myself a good ol’ pat on the back and thanked her.

Typer or Writer?

I’ve always wanted to be a writer.

I mean, I suppose I’ve been writing my whole life…

Neatly at the top of my homework paper; filling in bubbles on a scantron; five paragraph persuasive essays; love notes folded into neat little footballs to kick back and forth during class; letters mailed to friends on my Lisa Frank stationery,even though I’d see them every day at school.

Remember CURSIVE O_o ::insert dusty wind and a tumbleweed doing its thing::

Then beepers came along, and suddenly, rather than blush and fawn over a special love poem or note, we were all googoo gaga over 07734, 143, 50538. Gosh, we were such romantics.

And just when 55378008 seemed like the longest word we could beep with…
Computers and the INTERNET became readily available! AOL–the beginning of acronym hell.

Now, I just backspace, tab, delete, shift and return; ctrl alt del every now and again.

We’ve certainly come a long way from chipping away at stones. I don’t know how they did it in Moses’ day.

*Quick side note, I think we can all agree that the Commandments could use some updating:

-Though shalt not make Duck Face.
-No bathroom Selfies.
-Honour thy father and mother and your future husband, i.e. “Stop showing everyone your A$$, 55378008!”

So, in a nutshell, I want to be a writer. I want to write a book, an amazing book, at least 300 pages, maybe a couple of kick ass illustrations like in the Stephen King novels. It’s gonna be about life, love, and loss, and it’s gonna change your whole outlook on existence. That’s what I want, to make an impact on people’s lives.

HA! Who am I kidding? No one will believe that. I want to make an impact on your pocket! CaChing!

No, but seriously, that’s really what this blog is all about—expressing my thoughts, ideas, feelings, and experiences. My intention is that you pick up something useful, and if not, I hope my posts at least put a smile on your face.

Thanks for reading.

Immortality?

Men… Warning: The short that follows is about “That Time of the Month”. Which time? The annoying, bitchy, PMSy time, when all you men do is mess things up for us. And, NO, we don’t act like that ALL the time! Well…

I was 9 when I first discovered I was immortal. I mean how else could I lose that much blood and still be walking and talking. (I warned you.) Maybe it hadn’t been a dream, and I had been bitten by Brad Pitt in the middle of the night.

I was turning! ::DUM Dum dum::

Oddly enough, I had no trouble walking about in the daylight; although it felt nearly impossible to get out of bed to go to school.

Maybe I’d sleep better once I had my own coffin.

I still enjoyed eating Frosted Flakes, despite the pack of bloody liver steaks I had seen in the fridge—they were for the dogs, big dogs.

Needless to say, I was not a vampire; I was becoming a woman.

I wonder if Eve is up there laughing every time a girl gets her period for the first time. “Oops, did I do that?” All Steve Urkel like.

It was the beginning of all my insecurities and uncertainties.

I started to grow these awkward little peaks; the flimsy cotton bras from JByron’s offered no kind of support, physical OR emotional.

Then…the hair.

When my 6 year old daughter recently asked me why I had hair on my butt, I found myself stifling laughter.

“When am I gonna get hair on my butt?” She continued to investigate, staring at me with her head to the side like I was some freak show exhibit. I didn’t want to explain that it’s not called a butt, so I simply answered, “When you’re bigger.”

“When I’m 16?”

“Probably sooner.”

“When I’m 7?” She asked wide eyed with concern because her birthday is only a few months away.

“No, not yet! We’ll talk about it another day.” I ended the conversation abruptly, frustrated that I didn’t have all the answers despite the fact that WE did bite the apple from the tree of Knowledge.

I’m convinced that before that ill-fated day, we didn’t have to shave our legs or pluck our eyebrows. We became angry, bushy beasts after that cursed serpent came along.

Don’t get me wrong, men have it bad, too. They get easily excited by fully clothed women, even not so good looking women. Imagine how hard it was, literally, being naked with us all the time. Poor Adam…

Back to my immortality!

So, you’ve got some semblance of boobs, hair everywhere, your hormones are out of control and you start getting pimples.

Let’s not forget the significant discomfort of “Flo”, the corny nickname says it all; the accompanying cramps and headaches, and the “fun” accessories we have to carry around for most of our lives.

“Mommy, is that you diaper,” my two year old, yes TWO year old, asked mockingly one day, grinning and covering her face with her yellow blanky.

I do try to hide these things, but when you have 3 kids, it becomes increasingly difficult to do anything in privacy. A NY THING. If you don’t lock the door, you’re bound to have an audience.

Marriage/Parenting Tip: always lock the door before engaging in any physical activity that might otherwise require Daddy explaining to the kids that he wasn’t hurting Mommy.

Thankfully, they didn’t just invent those white bulky mattresses we call “Pads”, but also, TAMPONS!

::insert a sun rising and birds chirping happy day here::

Yes, tampons changed my life. No more embarrassing bulge in those unflattering P.E. shorts. No more missing fun pool parties or the beach days when your friends decided to skip school.

Tampons, did not actually give me the nerve to do that, BUT the choice was there!

Tampons were great. Even after some of the stories I heard.
For example, My best friend’s mom told us how one time she finished her period as usual, but then noticed a foul smell several days later. She FORGOT to remove the last tampon!

“Oh, man!” I thought, “That could never happen to me. I’m not immortal, but I’m not a complete idiot either.”

Well, funny story…