Ruminations

Life.
What is it?
These mobile hunks of clay meandering around--searching.
Searching for jobs...food...shelter...luxury...pleasure...meaning.
But what is it really?
Why does it matter?
How can it be that one moment, our clay bodies are mobile and the next, they are still and lifeless.
What do we do with that? Those of us that are left here?
We continue to dream about the body that used to walk and talk and live among us.
We literally see that body in our dreams.
But isn't it just a body?
There must be more than just a body.
We hear about the soul.
What is the soul really?
What is a person's spirit?

Personality...it's so unique.

Perhaps that's what we mourn the most. That we will never know another person who would respond to us the way that one person did...who would understand our inside jokes...who would have the same mannerisms...who would hold the same routines.

So what's left?
What is left with us after death?

Memories.

But don't memories fade?
Can't our mind conjure up falsehoods overtime?
How to keep memories pure?
Why can't I make a movie of what I see in my mind right this very instant so that I can ensure that it will never get diluted by the junk of this life that occupies more and more of my mindspace as each day passes?

Life...
It comes and it goes.
It ebbs and it flows.

Even with the belief of heaven...death isn't any easier to deal with. But I hear it should be.
But it's not.
Why is it not?
Does that negate my christian-ness?

I can only wrap my mind around what happens here on earth.
Heaven is just too much.
The after life is just too much.
What happens here after we lose a loved one?
What is it exactly that we are sad about?

Part of me clings to the body...the peaceful face I've known all my life, the familiar shadow and silhouette, the soothing sound of a voice. Those things can never be replicated.

That's all I know.

It's hard.

Sometimes when we've dreaded something happening for so long we create a monster in our minds that's much bigger than perhaps it should be.

I do that with death.

Hasn't life gone on since my dad left me here half-orphaned?

Haven't I continued to smile and laugh and play?

Haven't I still found joy in things both large and small?

The sun still rises. The sun still sets. With no regard to the presence or absence of my father.

A harsh reality.

A humbling truth.

This world isn't about me. Or my dad. Or any other beloved family member of mine--even if they are the very ones that hung the moon in my childhood sky.

Life is relentless. Time never gives us a break.

What are we going to do with it?

My soul can only whisper one word: abide.

DIY Adventure

A couple years ago, we bought a dining table and chairs from Amazon (rather cheaply, might I add). We lost a chair a year in. And two years in (now), the other three are wobbling slowly to their deaths.

I've had it in my mind to find solid wood chairs for a long time but hadn't acted on it--until now.

I had an amazing paycheck from my "job"--post to come about that soon. So I felt it an appropriate time to start my chair search.

Did I go to Ashley Furniture Megastore you ask? Heck no. Never again.

Try the Black Swan Flea Market in New Bern. It will change your life.

In the attic of this century-old home cram packed with the most beautiful furniture and antiques I've ever seen sat 4 old solid wood windsor chairs. For $15 a piece. I'll TAKE 'em!

As we were leaving, the owner asked us if we needed a table to go with our new chairs. Well, she ended up selling us a dining table--solid wood Ethan Allen--for $40. YES.

I have never worked with wood...never refinished anything...never really even sanded anything. So it really was anybody's guess how this would turn out.

Can't hurt to try though, right?

At Lowe's I got some sanding blocks, a foam brush, a quart of black flat paint, and a bucket of matte polyurethane.

I sanded until I got the effect I wanted.

I painted the legs black (again).

When they dried, I distressed them.

Then I poly'd the legs and the table--3 coats each.

Time to bring it inside and reassemble! Jonathan had some good help.

And here it is!

The legs turned out beautifully unique.

I'm in love.

I think I've turned into a DIY junkie.



Chairs are next! (Hint: I'm thinking Gumdrop Red and Aqua Blue)

I'll Have a Large Order of Compassion, Hold the Judgement Please

Just a note to my fellow moms out there:

If you ever see a sister out and about with her children and you notice that she might be struggling a bit or maybe even a tad stressed out from, say, trying to keep up with her 5 year old that talks incessantly and therefore cannot hear instructions and therefore cannot obey said instructions, AND trying to focus on the task at hand while the 2 year old repeats his request a THOUSAND times, AND running after the 1 year old who loves the freedom that his ability to walk gives him and takes off any chance his toes hit the ground...I beg you to consider compassion instead of judgement.

Compassion. Judgement. 

Which would your rather receive?

Let me back up a tad. 

This morning was...eventful. It started out calmly enough. One by one, the children woke up. I started the day with Mason snuggles and a soft rendition of "Happy Birthday" to which he watched my mouth form every word--completely entranced. 

Next Andy woke up. For a boy who typically awakes grumpy and needs at least an hour to snap out of it, today was pretty good for him. It only took a few minutes of whining before he was ready for his breakfast and playtime. 

I read a chapter of my book (and it was an awesome chapter) while the boys played and had snacks. Emily woke and went straight for her new birthday toys. She and I tattooed some barbie hair before it was time to get ready for her last day at VBS at a church we have visited twice. 

I gathered everyones socks, shorts, shirts, undies, shoes, and hair-fixing necessities. Then I threw on a pair of jeans and my hair up into some sort of a bun to make myself appear to be a semi-civilized adult. FYI, I have decided that when I put on a clean t-shirt before bed, it is entirely acceptable to wear the same t-shirt for at least half of the next day. 

Jonathan took the van this morning and put the 3 carseats in the back of the Volvo. I was supposed to take the Volvo to get the oil changed. Well, the Volvo doesn't have a fancy schmancy DVD player like the van does. Because of this, the very second I strapped Mason into the car, he started screaming. And he didn't stop until we got home 30 minutes later. 

After squeezing Emily into the middle and spending at least 10 minutes trying to reach the bottom part of the seat belt buckle and sweating profusely by the end of it, I strapped Andy in and we were ready to go. 

But wait, my wallet is in the van. 

All of this suffering and screaming and sweating in this darn tiny car for nothing. 

But hey, whatever. I can get past that.

"Oh...I left Emily's one pair of tennis shoes in the van yesterday. There might be a pair in the garage. Let me go check."

After digging through partially unpacked boxes, more sweating, and a few spiders later, I found some shoes. I grabbed the shoes and realized I was starving and hadn't eaten anything substantial since yesterday at lunch so I ran inside and found a couple dollar bills. That would suffice for a sausage biscuit from McDonald's. Hey...food is food.

I jumped in the car, and we're off.

We get to the church, I go to put Emily's shoes on but wait...they aren't in the car. They are nowhere to be found. Going back home is not an option since we are already late and the bounce houses are inflated in plain view in the parking lot. Telling the kids we are going home before even getting out of the car would have most definitely incited rage and panic. My only option is to squeeze her sweet chubby feet into Anderson's 2-sizes-too-small shoes. Oh, and I should mention that Mason never made it into his shorts before we left the house--just a diaper and a t-shirt because, well, I don't even know why. 

So here we go. We are late of course and the first group gathering of VBS has already started. I have no idea where Emily's class is. Neither does she. 

We stand and we wait. Anderson is talking--more like repeating (because that's what he does). Mason is wiggling and wriggling his way out my arms because SPACE--so much SPACE to run around. Emily is distressed because every other day this week, her class was waiting outside. Why is this day different??

Emily thinks she spots someone she knows and of course...on the front row. So, Emily in her boy shoes walking like a kangaroo in high heels because they are tiny and Anderson in his bare feet and Mason in his diaper walk to the very front of the gymnasium in front of everyone to find her class. 

I can deal with all that. Whatever. Here's where I have the issue.

As we were walking out, a group of very put-together moms who were volunteering as workers for the VBS were standing by the exit. I cannot even begin to describe to you the up and down motion of their eyes. It was so painfully obvious. First they started with Anderson's feet. Then it went to Mason's diaper. Then it went to my over sized t-shirt and messy hair and non-made-up face. I mean...I know we look a bit a mess but do you really have to stare like that? Have you ever seen someone check someone else out from head to toe and from toe to head all over again in disbelief?

 Exactly.

This is church. You are volunteering. You are a member here. You've never seen me or my children before. Logically, we must be visitors. 

You never know what a person has been through. You never know someone else's story unless you take time to ask. You never know how someone's morning has been. You never know what someone is struggling with. You never know someone's stress level. 

Be the hands of Jesus. Have the eyes of Jesus. 

Not the eyes of judgement. 

Let's build one another up--lend a helping hand to a mom in need.

Let's be compassionate. 

Love. Love above all. 

P.S.- I never found the shoes.