Guilty As Charged

Breaking News: I have momentarily interrupted this blog due to the Casey Anthony Trial.

I seriously need an intervention. I have been obsessed with this case for the past three years. I even drove to see The Anthonys home on a trip to Orlando last year with a friend, much to her mortification. My family is going to Orlando in November, so guess where I’m going to drag them?

In between entertaining Little Squirt with movies, beach days and trips to the library, I have been glued to my computer to watch the trial live stream. And when I’m not watching the trial, I am reading blogs about the trial or observing talking heads discuss the trial or viewing the HLN evening lineup of shows that review the trial. I don’t know what I’m going to do with myself when this is all over. Big sigh.

I now know so much about trial law that I believe I could pass the Bar. I could be an alternate to the alternate jurors. I am peppering my conversations with legalese like, “Objection!” and “What says the defense?” People are beginning to think I’m weird.

I have always been interested in the mystery genre of reading and tv watching. This bizarre, real life case of a FL mother accused of murdering her 2yo has pulled on my heartstrings. I am thirsty for justice!

So, I’ll be back. I’m just a woman consumed at present.

Them's Fightin' Words!

Little Squirt is a peacemaker by nature. He has no fightin’ bones in his body. One day he told his older brother about some boys on the playground that were lying on top of him and wouldn’t let him get up. His tougher, wrestler older brother offered words of counsel on how to manhandle these schoolyard hooligans. He had a long conversation with Little Squirt, complete with demonstrations, using terms like, “Sucker punch” and “Forearm smash.” After a moment, eyes wide with horror, my little boy said, “But that’s not the kind of guy I am! I don’t hurt people!”

It’s so true. Little Squirt is about as sweet as they come. His heart bled to find a lonely ant in the house, and he hurried to find him a snack. He won’t step on bugs. He gets weepy during sad Pixar films. His teacher says he’s the tender-hearted child who comforts the crying in his classroom. He’s kind and sensitive to the core.

That is why I was quite surprised to find his writing assignment on “My Life As An Ant.”
“It would be cool if I was an ant because I could kill enemies and take their heads off.”

Apparently, my sweet boy has an Ant Alter Ego. Who knew??

Fainting and Trust

Last night I had one of those vivid, horror dreams. In my dream, evil alien creatures were taking over the world and rounding up humans and putting them in prisons. Think Stephen King meets The Holocaust. My family was taken captive, but then they let my husband and children go free, and kept me captive. The goal of the aliens was to take over my mind and body. There were some other frightened humans wandering about along with me.

Suddenly, I saw this big, strong, handsome man. He seemed to be working at the prison. I looked him in the eyes and begged him to save me from the evil. He said he would. Suddenly, we could hear the aliens approaching. The big, strong, handsome man said to me, “Pretend to faint in my arms. It’s protection. Then the evil ones will leave.” Sounds very sexist and Harlequin-Romancey, yes? But it worked. The evil aliens couldn’t touch me when I fainted away in the arms of my protector. Then I was able to escape from the prison, and go back safely to my family. That was my dream last night.

Then this very morning, my daily devotion from Streams in the Desert was all about fainting.
“What do you do when you are about to faint physically? You cannot do anything. You cease from your own doings. In your faintness, you fall upon the shoulder of some strong loved one. You lean hard. You rest. You lie still and trust........And that is all God asks of you, His dear child, when you grow faint in the fierce fires of affliction. Do not try to be strong. Just be still and know that He is God, and He will sustain you, and bring you through.”

Thanks for the dream and the next-day affirmation, God. I love it when you speak clearly.

Keeping The Nest

My daughter told me today that I need to blog more so she has something to read over the summer. I’ve been quite MIA on the writing front lately. I’ve been camping in a season of dryness, feeling uncreative and wordless. But since my daughter asked, I will write about her.

Butterfly just officially finished her last class of her sophomore year of college today. This marks the halfway point of her undergrad career. How is that possible? It seems like yesterday I was dropping her off for her first semester, and crying a bucket of tears on the six hour drive home. I seriously did. I cried for much of the semester, come to think of it. With my firstborn so far from home and my youngest finally in school full-time after years of homeschooling, it was a lonely season. I had full days to myself for the first time in 18 years and I hated it.

“Dude!” I can hear you exclaiming. “What the heck is wrong with you? Nobody hates having full days to themselves!” Well, I did. And it wasn’t as if I lied around eating bonbons. I did loads of volunteer work, wrote, took a yoga class and hung out with friends. But here’s the odd little fact about me: I love being a mother. I'd wanted to be a mother since I was five years old. And before I was a real mother I mothered plants, pets and my baby brother. After my kids grow up I’m certain I'll be mothering my grandchildren, my friends and the odd stray cat that ventures on my front porch. If I could be a Professional Mother, I would be. Call it retro or passe or Donna Reed Days Gone By. I don’t care. It’s who I am.

Back to Butterfly. She isn’t coming home this summer. She was blessed to get a great job at an amusement park in OH where she’ll be working with her friends and boyfriend. She’ll be paid well and will stay on campus. I’m happy for her, because I know it’s going to be a one-of-a-kind experience. Do I feel an emptiness in my heart that she won’t be with us this summer? Absolutely! I enjoy our girl-talks, movie nights and lunches out for hot wings. But the half-way mark of her college career means she’s moving closer to that day when she moves out forever. And so I need to begin letting go now.

Dang it! Before I had children, when I imagined motherhood, I pictured snuggling with baby lotion-scented infants, wiping runny noses, and kindergarten art work hanging on the fridge. I didn’t imagine the good-byes. However do the mother birdies do it?

Happy Easter!

Oh, give thanks to the Lord, for he is good;
His steadfast love endures forever.
The Lord is my strength and my song
And he has become my salvation.

The right hand of the Lord has triumphed,
The right hand of the Lord is exalted!
The stone that the builders rejected has become the chief cornerstone; This is the Lord’s doing and it is marvelous in our eyes.

This very day the Lord has acted:
Let us rejoice!
God’s name be praised!

From Psalm 118

Birthday Eve Musings

Here I am again. The sun will soon set, the night will come, and at 8:30am tomorrow morning, I will officially add another year to my age.

I never wanted to be one of Those Women who fall into a depression with each approaching birthday; counting every wrinkle, complaining about their added poundage and creaky bones. But candidly, I’ve become one of Those Women this past year. I am feeling convicted that one of my most commonly used phrases has been, “I’m getting old” (said with a dramatic sigh of disgust).

But beginning with this year, I want to celebrate each day in a deeper way. No more negative self talk about aging. I want to embrace this next age as a gift, because, in reality, it’s better than the alternative. I feel fit and youthful and excited about the future. The past few years have been the most creative of my life. I am wiser and more comfortable in my skin than ever in the past. I know who I am, what I like and why, what doesn’t work for me, how to choose friends wisely, how to dress best for my body type. I know my passions, my goals, my worldview. The first half of my life was a lot of guess work, but now I have things better figured out. Would I want to go backward? No. I like being where I am in life, and I am (on most days) proud of who God has grown me to be. Maturity is one of the gifts that we only receive with time. I’ll take that over youth.

If I had to pick one area I’ve grown in since my last birthday, it’s been in my ability to be honest. I have had more honest conversations with God, others and myself than ever in my life. It’s been freeing to let go of the people-pleasing and discover a more authentic and healthier way to live.

God has been good. He has given me so many moments-as-gifts since my last birthday. These are a few of my favorites:

~Weekly date nights with my favorite guy
~Gathering for prayer with my Intercessory team, in whatever “closet” we can find
~Long discussions about books over wine with my Chocolate Pie Book Club
~Watching my youngest dance with my niece and nephew
~Lazy days spent reading by the ocean in Hilton Head
~Late night talks with my teens hanging out on my bed
~Fabulous sunset dinners in Cabo San Lucas with my family, Chris & Cintia
~Cooking and laughing side by side with my Cool Chicks Cooking Club
~Drinks and heart-to-heart talks with my closest girlfriends
~Every retreat with my Transforming Community
~Prayer walking with my youngest at a crisis shelter
~Kisses from my sweet little Murphy nieces
~Monday morning writing dates with a friend
~Receiving a surprise diamond ring from my husband at a silent auction
~Dancing with my brother to “We Are Family.”

What else? I’m probably forgetting a whole bunch of great moments, since I’m getting older. (Oops. There I go again.) It’s time to pop my evening fish oil capsule, and be on my way. Thank you God, for giving me life!

Spring Break

Spring Break. Oh, really? I’m struggling to figure out where the spring is hiding, and definitely needing a break after being a one-woman entertainment committee for the past week. I’ve provided my youngest with lots of friend time, movie dates, and even an afternoon at Chuck E. Cheese. That’s love for you. And I’ve got witnesses, just in case he ever has a memory lapse down the road, and questions my motherly devotion in therapy.

Then we went east for a few days. Not south where the sun shines and the ocean beckons, but east to OH where it actually began snowing at the exact moment we arrived at our hotel. Uh, Spring Break?

We were there to visit Butterfly at her college, and I’d weather anything to see my kid. (Pun not intended, but clever nonetheless.) We enjoyed a hibachi dinner with the family, Butterfly’s boyfriend and her two roommates while the snow fell. Little Squirt logged in lots of swim time at the hotel pool, and Rock Star sat through three criminal justice classes, giving him a taste of college in a year and a half. He loved it.

Too quickly, we were on the road again, driving back home, the standard “Good-bye, Daughter” lump in my throat. It’s an odd thing, this life transition. It’s nearing the end of Butterfly’s sophomore year in college, yet each separation feels fresh and raw, like an old wound that begins bleeding again after the scab is torn off. Rock Star will be leaving the nest as well, soon enough. Saying good-bye to my children feels so wrong.

I don’t like this kids-growing-up thing, I want a Life Rewind Button for my birthday. I’ll take the year ‘03 back; homeschooling the first two with the baby in my arms. That was a good year for this mommy.

I’m reading Joyce Rupp’s Praying Your Goodbyes, and I quote, “Goodbyes will always be with us. So will hellos. Praying a goodbye can bring us to the doorway of new beginnings. The seed of resurrection in our souls will grow again.”

Easter season is a good time for me to remember this.