Character Flaws Revealed

Today I had an epiphany (I've been known to have those occasionally). It occurred to me that I was not growing up properly. OK, I know that's a vague and confusing statement, but let me explain. Now that I am 30, I feel like I should be, well... more mature. My husband is growing up quite nicely. He wears suits to work and is reliable. He can interact with other adults in a perfect manor. He is conservative in all natures, reads the paper, and flosses. He goes to bed on time, and cleans out his truck regularly. Those are all very good "adult" things to do.

Now there is me. I'm disorganized. I eat salsa for breakfast, and I dance for hours to loud crazy music. Shouldn't I like "big girl" music choices by now? You know, like John Tesh? When should I stop loving Punk, Crunk, and Hip Hop, and head over to soft jazz?

I still twirl around outside to make myself dizzy. I love to stand in the rain.

I don't like housework, and it takes every bit of my strength to actually do it.

I like constant change and become easily bored. I like to play with lip gloss, and day dream.

I can stay up all night reading, or writing, or listening to music. I often jump on our trampoline (all of our farmer neighbors think I'm insane).

I have a hard time enforcing rules... Heck, I have a hard time following them.

Women's groups usually make me nauseous.

I like formal events... but only when I'm in the mood to play dress up.

I'm selfish, and self centered, and ate eclairs for dinner.

I can only pretend relate to "normal" society. I try really hard to care about what people think, but I just don't have it in me.

I dance and raise my hands and loose myself in worship. Subsequently, I make a terrible baptist and think I need to head back to a Charismatic church to be with "My own kind" (;

I feel bad for my husband. I know he so badly wants a wife that is organized, and politically correct, with manicured nails and normal shoes. But the poor guy got me. A bare foot Jesus freak who is flighty, disorganized, and immature.

As time passes, it concerns me that these things are not just flaws of my youth... but who I am.

Right now, as I get into the word, I'm really appreciating John the Baptist. The guy was pretty out there, but Christ didn't say, "hey, grow up and act normal". Christ used John in a powerful way, just the way he was.

I know Christ can use me, despite all of my flaws. In fact, when I dance in the rain... I can feel him there with me. Meeting me where I am at, and loving me just as I am.

Beautiful Prison

When I was a child, I would dream that I was running. I would run as fast as I could, but would go so slow. I could never pass the top of my driveway. My demons always a few steps behind me.

As a teenager, I loved to run. I would burst out my front door and fly up my long driveway. I would raise my hands high to the heavens as I cleared that last stretch of concrete and stepped into the asphalt of the road. Freedom.

Suddenly, running is good for me again. The sound of my heart beating in my chest, my sweat and tears mixed as one. Country air laced with dust and cold. Spring wheat, new and green in contrast to cherry orchards brown, twisted "winter dead" trees, life not yet stirring inside.

Farmers stop their trucks, offering rides "home". Do I look that out of place? Here in my beautiful prison?

A farm hand with his cold blue eyes stops to talk…. Stuck in his “city” home, the land calls his name, spits him out but keeps me here. Can’t it see how he loves it? Can’t it see that I don’t?

My speed picks up. I watch the sky blur into the hills. I breathe. Methodic steps on cracked dusty roads. With arms stretched out to the heavens, I scream out “blessed be thy name. When the road is marked with suffering, BLESSED BE THY NAME.”

Anger, rebellion, loneliness, disgust, pity, lust, responsibility, hatred, sorrow, fear, stuck at the doorstep of my home. My body carries me…. I am in control of how fast, how far, how long.

When my legs will go no further, and my heart is weak, I find myself back at my front door. I always linger, taking in those last few minutes of freedom.

Then, I open my front door, and I step back into my life.

Thanks

Thank you all for your prayers. My daughter woke up healthy Sunday morning. GOD IS GOOD! I also appreciate all of the health advice ~Karlie

PRAYER REQUEST

Well, I've wanted to write a post for quite some time. It's too bad that when I finally do, it has to be for this, but I am seeking your prayer for my sick family, especially my daughter Lilly.

Ever since we started school (just a coincidence?) my family has been CONSTANTLY ill. First we had the flu, then the stomach flu, then strange fevers. Then colds with sinus infections, and just this last week, my son had the WORST case of diarrhea I've EVER seen, and my youngest son had infantigo! On top of that I got strep last week and spent most of the week in bed. Through all of this my 9 year old daughter has been sick the most. She has had blood tests (all normal), but every week, she seems to get sick... AGAIN. I'm really worried about her.

Also, she missed her first gymnastics meet of the season (because she was sick in the emergency room), and was so excited to compete this Sunday. Oh, but you guessed it, this morning she woke up sick. My heart breaks for her, and I'm worried.

Would you all please pray for my daughter? I ask for healing prayers for her, and that sickness is banished from my home! My prayers have been that she wakes up tomorrow perfectly healthy, and that God wraps all of my children in good health.

I also ask for wisdom. Should I pull my daughter out of school for a time to recuperate and build up her immunity? Should I anoint my home with oil? I already disinfected my home, my daughter's classroom (yes her teacher thinks I'm a FREAK), etc. What other steps should I take?

I thank all of you friends for your prayers.

Still Here

I am still here! Crazy busy... but alive! I miss blogging :( ~K

Snoring Husband's, Taco Bell, and Fat Cupid Cracks (Why does anyone read this blog anyway?)

It is nearly midnight, and here I am, unable to sleep because SOMEONE will not stop snoring. What a way to usher in Valentine's Day, loud, rumbling snorts. Do you know what I want for Valentine's Day??? Snore strips! Yes, and I want him to wear 6 at once, just to assure me ONE good night of sleep. No flowers, no candy, just snore strips.

I've yelled, I've kicked him, I've pleaded, I even considered smothering him with a pillow, but darn it, I love the guy. So here I sit, blogging at midnight, waiting for the fatigue to be so great, that the rumbling bed and monstrous noises won't affect me.

In this tired state, I think I'll write random Valentine's facts about.. well... me.

1. I hate mushy cards. If my husband wrote me a poem, or got me a card with a bunch of sappy words, I'd barf (internally that is). I mean, I'd try to be nice, but I just can't do the mushy stuff with men. Now a friend could write me a sweet card or poem and I'd love it, but if my husband, or dad did that, I'd get uncomfortable and nauseous. Yeah, I need therapy... whatever.

2. Every year my husband and I get each other a Valentine with a butt on it (usually a half-naked fat cupid, or a card about the crack of "Don"). It's a terrible tradition we started our first year of marriage. It was a coincidence the first year. Ever since, we have searched high and low for the perfect "butt" Valentine to give each other (you'd be surprised how many are out there!). I should state that my husband and I both share the "no sappy card" rule, AND a really odd sense of humor. I also feel the need to tell you, one year I shirked the tradition and bought him a "normal" card and he was dreadfully hurt.

3. We eat Taco Bell every Valentine's day. Yes, another odd tradition that started our first year of marriage. I love the idea, really, I do, but over the years, I have grown to hate Taco Bell. I wish it had been a Gelato tradition or a Starbucks... oh well. Would it be too crude to add that Taco Bell gives "someone" (NOT ME) terrible gas? Gosh, can't a girl get a snore and fart free Valentine's day?

4. I don't like Valentine's Day gifts. I know, I'm starting to sound like a scrooge here, but who wants a romantic gift out of an obligation that is forced by retailers? Jewelry and flowers ANY other day of the year means SO much more.

5. I am obsessed with Valentine's Day decorations. See... I'm not totally anti Valentine's Day. I love pink and red hearts! I am so girly that this holiday just "fits me". I get all giggly when I see frosted pink cookies, and heart doilies. I love to smoother my house in hearts and flowers! My boys are threatening to move out.

6. Every year around Valentine's Day, my mom makes my FAVORITE food in the entire world. Pink frosted heart shaped sugar cookies. I told her this year I would only have 1800 calories worth (I'm serious here; I plotted it out and everything). Therefore, my mom graciously gave some to me, and then packaged up the rest in pretty baskets for me to give to my friends. Would you believe it only took me two whole days to eat them all? Not a single friend got a crumb. Now when I call my mom, I ask for the "Evil Cookie Baker", or the "Purveyor of Fatness".

* On a side note, I spent nearly 4 hours this week on the stupid elliptical torture device to keep from gaining those well deserved cookie pounds.

7. My five-year-old son wrote me a card with a mushy poem on it and I cried, hugged him, and got all sappy.

8. I have volunteered to help at all four of my kids Valentine's Day parties at school. I think I have lost my mind!

9. People who eat healthy on Valentine's Day suck the joy right out of it. My son's teacher wants a healthy Valentine's Day party with a veggie tray and milk. WHAT? These are second graders! That is just cruel. I was in charge of the milk... and I bought chocolate! HA HA HA! I also shoved a bunch of candy in all the kids Valentines. I get being healthy 99.9 % of the time... but today? It's like the person who gives raisins or pencils on Halloween. I mean common! Were YOU ever a kid?

10. The day after Valentine's Day I always have the worst chocolate hangover... and think the grouchy people with the raisins aren't as dumb as I thought.

What is that I hear? Nothing? Could it be that his marathon snore session is over? I best be off to bed before it kicks back up again. ~K

One Month Later

Here I am, one month into our public school adventure. How have things changed?

Well, I have a lot less time than I used too. Surprised? Me too! All this time I thought I would have freed up by putting my kids in public school, just isn't there. Don't get me wrong, I obviously don't have little kiddos messing up the house, or hours of discipline and education to administer, but an entire new set of activities have quickly taken its place.

I have been enjoying the gym 3 - 4 times a week. Yeah, I know, that might sound like a benefit, but who really wants to go and sweat for 2 hours, while wearing unflattering Lycra, and huffing to keep up with a 70-year-old man, (he kicks my elliptical butt)? Not my idea of fun, but the jeans are getting quite loose, so there ARE benefits.

I have been helping at the school quite a bit. This has been the MOST rewarding. My kids really don't need any help (honor roll babies thanks to that homeschool edge) but I do get to pour energy into the needy kids in their classes. I have one little boy who doesn't have a mother that loves to follow me around. He asked for my phone number... he he. I've met a five-year-old girl who is an orphan. When she asked me why I help out in class, I told her because G*** is my son, and I love him and want to be near him. She flung her arms around me and said, "Oh, that is so wonderful". This little girl is un bathed and neglected, so when I come into their class, she comes up to me and plants herself on my lap and stares. "I love your pretty hair, and your pretty face. I love that you smell like flowers, and that you wear earrings." It brings tears to my eyes. I want to take her home and clean her up! Let her touch her own soft hair, let her smell sweet lotion on her own skin, give her the confidence to see her own pretty face.

I've been quilting! YES my friends, I am tapping into my inner domestic self! I'm almost finished with an actual quilt. OK, maybe it's more of a wall hanging, but at least it's more than a pillow!

I have been cooking quite a bit more now that I can. Our meals are healthier, and I've been saving some $$$!

The best thing I've been doing with my time is a regular quiet time. Not just a little devotion, but a good hour of prayer and scriptures. It has been wonderful to enter into this much-needed season of spiritual growth.

Now before you think it's all just pure bliss, I should also tell you that my kids are exposed to a whole lot of GARBAGE! Daily, they come home with things I wish they didn't know. From perversion, to faulty science. We are dealing with issues daily. My daughter does not care for her teacher, as he often talks about how great "Hillary" is, calls Huckabee, Huckleberry, and tells the class that the world is ending due to global warming. Only the Holy Spirit has kept me from flying off the handle here, but God has said "wait... wait until the time is right."

My youngest son doesn't like school, and often cries in the morning about going. He told me the other morning that he couldn't go to school because school was from the devil (yeah, he's a manipulative genius like that). No, he doesn't really believe that, but he's tried everything else. One morning while waiting for the bus, I asked him "honey, why do you want to stay home so bad?" I figured he would say "because I miss my mom" or "because I like learning at home". Nope, you know what he said? "I miss my tendo (Nintendo)". Therefore, I kissed his little cheek, zipped up his jacket, and put him on the bus.

Kids are mean. Teachers can be liberals. Recess aids are scary. School is rough! Do I love it? Heck no. Yet as I sometimes desire to yank my kids out, I hear God's gentle reminder "I called you here, remember?"

God is actually revealing a lot about the whys I have been called out of homeschooling. It was my vision. Not my family’s vision. While it may be a great vision, it was time for me to step out of spiritual authority, and let my husband step up. Oh my, does this take faith! As I step out, I wonder, will my shoes be filled? Yet I know God would not have me step down, unless it IS his intention to put my husband in his rightful place.

Can I say it again? It is so hard to let go! My hands could no longer hold onto my vision. While it might fall into ruins at my feet, my husband will undoubtedly be called to pick it up. Will he obey his call?