Cracked,Chipped and Broken Character

Two weeks ago, you all got to see my kitchen.

And commented on how cute it was.

Thank you.

God uses my house to talk to me. Does He do that with you?

You see, what you see on the outside was lovely wasn't it? Maybe even caused a few of you to think, "how can I make my kitchen be more..."

At least that's what I do when I'm on other people's blogs and they seem to have amazing kitchens.

But come closer. Take a look. See this stain on the counter.

Borax. Javex. Baking soda can't get rid of it.

And every time I see it on the counter, I find myself thinking about how I've stained my life with sin, and how only His blood can wash me clean.

Check out this: It's broken.

It can't fix itself.

Just like me.

I'm reminded that I need some tender, loving care to be made whole again. And I need work. But I'm in capable and skilled hands. Hands that will make all things new and not just fix me, but restore me to wholeness.

And what about over here. This cupboard...so chipped it embarrasses me.

But every time I look at it I lay down my pride and embarrassment and go straight for thankfulness. I have a cupboard. I have a house. I have a family that lives in this house.

And somehow, through all the quirks of marred character it is becoming a holy habitation.

A place where His story is told.

A place where His glory dwells.

I was wrong to have Reservations about No Reservations

Remember that rant a long time ago? way back in the day when two people read my blog--Aunt Rosie and my mom (click here)

The one where I was mad that they had taken my favourite film and turned it into an American version of cheese, cheese and more cheese.

Well, I watched it recently.

And I wanted to go one record saying, "I was wrong."

They didn't destroy the film. The original is still much better, but I would watch the new version again.

(What? I can admit when I'm wrong.)

Blog about that!

A conversation that took place between my sister, Amesie-laa and I on Skype.

Amesie-laa will be referred to as A

and I will be referred to as me (that's short for redeemed diva, silly!)

A:I'm folding my clothes.

me:I can see that. I love Skype.

A: As do I. So what's new?

me: Not tons. Busy with my babies, helping Jeep with photography. You'se knows...the usual.

A: How's the blog going?

me: Not bad. I guess. Writing funny is hard. How did we become funny?

A: I think it's from Grandma.

me: I think you're right.

A: The other day I was visiting her and we were looking through photos of her. And she is a 'diva'. You should see her outfits. And I said "Gigi, you are so stylish!" And she says,"Was stylish. I was stylish. Now all they have for women my age is slacks.'

me: ruckus laughter.

A: 'slacks and turtlenecks' she says.

me: (more ruckus laughter) Yes, we got our humour from Grandma.

A: Blog about that!

me: increased ruckus laughter

A: Are you writing this down?

me: I am. I am.

A: I hope so. I'm giving you good material here.

me: I know, I know. Hey, you know what I thought about doing?

A:what?

me: I thought about putting up the clip of the time Sandra Bullock impersonated me.

A: I love Sandy!

me: I love that you say it like you know her.

A: Yeah. I love it that you think she impersonated you. You know who could play you? Peter Gabriel would do a good job. (Peter Gabriel is the guy with the thick eyebrows in the film "While You were Sleeping' click here)

me:I’m gonna cry! You are so mean to me.

A: Blog about that. And then link to that post about your eyebrows.

me: The No Wax Revolution? I could do that.

A: You know what's revolutionary? I mean. REV.o.LUTttttttion.ary.

me: No clue.

A: Avocado and scrambed eggs. Oh yeah. I'm going to go make some later.

me: That sounds good. I need a new thing for my avocados. A girl can only eat so much guacamole.

A: You mean 'guacamole'. Say it properly: Walk-a-mole-lay

me: Walk-a-mole-lay

A: Yeah. Bobby Flay's wife is really BIG on saying things with the correct pronunciation.

me: Good to know.

A: It's why we say 'hal-a-peen-yo' pepper and not 'ja-lop-e-no'

me: Jalapeno.

A: Jalepeno!

me:Jalapeno!

A: blog about that! Hey, you know what you can blog about?

me: What?

A: My neighbours.

me: You want me to blog about your neighbours?

A: yeah. Here's why. There's these new guys who live upstairs. Let me tell you, you don’t know how good you have it until your old neighbours are gone.

me: Too true

A:Anyway, I came home one night and the house smelled like cigarettes and maryjane. I shoulda known. I saw one of my neighbours friends last night. He was a total pot head and I thought "Well, that’s just ducky!!!!" I work for the police, for crying out loud.

me: That's an outrage! What ever happened to the simple days of  wearing turtle neck and slacks?

A: I know.Blog about that!

A Place for Lonely Hearts on Mother's Day

To the girl who sits in shaded silence today because her mother died at a young age; you have travelled years of growing up and growing into yourself and look for her whisper of approval in every woman that you have come close to. You've bravely stared today in the face and softly said the words,"I still remember you."

Today can be a lonely day.

To the girl who dreads this day and stays home from church, because she can't bear to hear that there are great moms to honour when she was robbed of that affection from a selfish woman who loved her unhealthy habits more than herself...more than her kids. You are familiar with the feeling of something being not quite right and asking yourself, "Why couldn't I be enough for her?Why would she do that to me?" You quietly ask yourself, "Will I ever do that to my kids?" And then swear to yourself you won't.

Today can be a lonely day.

To the girl who is made to feel small by her mother's words. Whose choices today constantly bring the disapproving sneer and the hard words that hit you across the heart. You wear the brave face of a soldier and weather her comments about your choices and how you are raising your kids.

Today can be a lonely day.

To the girl who is far away from family and watches as everyone else gathers in homes to celebrate, who picks up the phone and tries her best to say the words "I love you" but knowing that a hug would mean more; who struggles with being far away from all that is familiar.

Today can be a lonely day.

And yet the Lord is here.

Jesus will meets us in all of our weaknesses and bring comfort to those who mourn, and hope to the weary. He has placed you here, in the Body of Christ, where you are loved and appreciated for being a Daughter of the King.

He has a destiny and a plan for you.

Psalm 68:6 says so.

He sets the lonely in families.

Today doesn't have to be so lonely.

Friday Flashback: In 9 months time

Welcome to Flashback Friday.
Each Friday I write about something from my past. Sometimes it's meaningful, sometimes it's nonsense. But it all has purpose. Our past moments have all been a part of the story of who we are...so why not tell it!
Join me each Friday as I announce a topic and then we write about it and look back to see how far we've come. (Feel free to link in with old posts)

My friend Camie from My Life in a Blog picked this week's topic. Here's what she choose:

I considered a few options. And then I thought of the one story that gets every mother's tongue wagging and that is pregnancy and/or labor. You could include how you knew you were pregnant. Now, I've also taken into consideration that you might not be a mother yet, so I'd like to suggest that you share with us what it was like to hear your birth/adoption story as a child.

Whatever comes to mind when you read: In 9 months time....

Enjoy!

Here's my story. It starts NOW:

I suspected I was pregnant with my first child but ignored symptoms. I figured I was newly married and incapable of getting pregnant that quick.

Turns out I come from very fertile soil.

My husband and I went to the doctor's and I asked Jeep to wait out in the waiting room while I went pee in a cup. They ushered me into the room once I left my sample and then a nurse or the doctor, can't remember, told me that I was pregnant. And I remember thinking, "Where is Jeep?" But we had just not been able to get to the room together. We were newly married and didn't realized how things worked. Always go with your spouse on big issues--nurses like to hurry you into tiny rooms and reveal life altering truth while handing you a gown and recommending you get naked.

I knew I was pregnant with my second child when I opened the fridge door and I looked at the Sricha sauce and the mayo and thought, "I should mix those together."

I shut the fridge door and said, "Baby, I think we're pregnant."

The third time, I thought I was pregnant.

I was going into the doctor's office for a follow up for one of my kids and I thought I'd get a pregnancy test done. It came back negative and I went home crushed.

I was depressed for a week and sat on the couch lethargic and morose.

Jeep was home from working out of town and I was a general lump on the couch complaining that I needed more sleep, more food and more sanity. Heather came the next week and I said, "I don't know why I'm in such a funk. I just can't get my act together." She asked if I was pregnant and I said 'no. I was down a little about not being pregnant and was generally feeling lost as a mom and woman.

"You're pregnant," she declared.

I knew I wasn't.

Jeep came home with a pregnancy test. I obliged but I left the room and sat on the couch. I told him he and my daughter could let me know the results.

Well my sweet little girl came running in and said, "Guess what, mama? You are going to have a baby!"

And I did.

What's your story from "In 9 months time..."

Quick, Hide in the Barn!

Quick! Hide in the barn...all you useless countertop cluttering items.

Wait! Dishwasher, stay...I *NEED* you. The rest-- clear outta here...the tv crew will be here shortly.

My girls found a way to incorporate some magic

And my lady bug rock is really happy she's not being trampled by the clutter anymore. Look at her eyes, she's still recovering from her near death experiences.

And my stove is so jolly and the tea pots just ready to go

And look at this corner. So bright and friendly.

Now when the TV crew arrives to interview me I will look like a suave homeschooling Mom.

Just as long as they don't open my bedroom door where I stashed everything.

I really need to get a barn.

I did not kill Bob the Tomato or Larry the Cucumber

This Not Me post is using the adjectives and similes my wonderful readers provided in the comments section of my last post. Quite a challenge, ladies! Let's do this again some time shall we? (Similes and adjectives are in bold)

Today has not been slow and methodical. I have not felt as though I'm travelling through the day like a raindrop on a window. Slowly tracing my way down transparent panes. I should feel that way tomorrow, when we get blustery rain.

I did not learn from my sista, (as in simply, fabulous, dear wonderful friend) that I have made a mistake with my gardening. I don't make mistakes, much less blog about them.

I did not plant my seeds in tiny pots and then bring them outside everyday for sunshine. I wouldn't do something so colorfully ridiculous.

There are rules about gardening, you know.

It's called 'hardening off'. And you do that well after your plants have sprouted. You would never do that during their initial stage of life...because that would kill them faster than a new-super-sized microwave on high heat. I don't know how to use a microwave therefore I am metaphorically uncapable of killing new plant life.

Because in gardening, I didn't just dive in and make a go of things hoping it'll turn out. That would be like a junior high girl going down a wet, slippery waterslide on a boiling hot day while wearing a bikini. No, I don't make a go of things hoping everything will be nice and neat and all in place at the end. That's not me.

I did not decide to just hurry up and plant seeds because I didn't want to pay for the starts at a nursery. I wouldn't be so delightfully delusion as to hope that I could just throw some seeds in a pot and save money! Not me. I am willing to pay full price. I am a pyrrhic gardener and will drop as much money as my garden needs.

Some would say it's a mischievous person who would blame the lack of space in their laundry room for the reason of moving their plants out each day. And I would say that those people might want to look up the definition of mischievous and realize that they are using it at the wrong place and the wrong time.

Mischief? In the garden? Not capable of it.

The post in which I pretend I am The Lumber Jack's Wife

Are you reading the Lumberjack's Wife?

You need to. She is hilarious!

She once had a dermatologist insist that one of her children was adopted even though she repeatedly defended the fact that this was the child who came forth from her womb and she had the labour story to prove it.

She is a new fave of mine.

Shout out to Lumber Jack's Wife.

And since I love her blog so much I thought I would pretend to be her.

It starts now:

This is an important blog post so please pay attention.

Thank you.

Item#1

A quick shout out to The real Lumber Jack's wife, Christine and my girl, Camie for participating in Flashback Friday. Holla, people! Holla!

Item #2

Don't make eye contact with a pig.

Item #3

Camie is my personal friend. (I just mentioned her in Item #1, keep up, people!)

Not just a blog friend. I mean, I know her in real life. (Lucky me!) And her pictures don't do her justice. She's gorgeous. And smart. She reminded me of why I blog. Because.it's. fun.

So I wanted to let her know that after a good night's sleep I am much more myself and not nearly as narcissistic as I was yesterday. I realized there is no paparazzi following me around.

Item 3a:

I do not mean that her picture makes her look nasty. I mean that she is even prettier in person.

Thank you.

Interruption:

I decided that I want to copy The Lumberjack's Wife crazy adjective game. It's where you post adjectives in the comment section and I write a post using those very adjectives. But I'm going to kick it up a notch by providing this information:

I will write a Not Me Monday post using your adjectives

Oh and 1000 (meaningless) points to those who can put in simile's. Oh, you bet your bottom dollar I will include them in my Not Me Monday post.

There's your assignment. Now go!

Go!Go!Go!Go!

You have until Noon PT time today.

For those who stayed with me...

Thank you.

Item #5

There was no item number four and I just jumped to five and you never caught on. Keep awake, people!

Real Item#5

Fancy shout out to my new friend Jenn (click here) She's my new friend because Number 1. She said she was and Number 2. She reads Amy Beth. She commented a few days ago and I never said hi. Hi Jenn. Now, the whole world knows about you (oh, yes people, the whole world. I read my stats. I know you are all listening!) High kicks and loud screams for Jenn everyone! Yah!

Item #6

Courtesy shout out to all others who have commented and I have not commented back. I've lost track. Sorry 'bout that, but if you understood what my laundry room, me thinks you'd understand. So, consider this the big "Hello" and "Thank you" and now we are all square and caught up. I'm resetting my clock to zero.

Now, feel free to comment.

Go! Go! Go! Go!

Item#7

I'm sorry if that last shout out to the vast many seems impersonal.

Thank you.

Item #8

I'm done now.

PS. Please comment and leave a simile or adjective for me to write my Not Me Monday post. Only guidelines are to keep your words relevant...

a.k.a.

Keep it Christian, people!

Thank you

Friday Flashback: Party Cakes

Welcome to Flashback Friday.
Each Friday I write about something from my past. Sometimes it's meaningful, sometimes it's nonsense. But it all has purpose. Our past moments have all been a part of the story of who we are...so why not tell it!
Join me each Friday as I announce a topic and then we write about it and look back to see how far we've come.

For my daughter's first birthday I did not serve a cake. We served spring rolls bought from the store. Because all our friends had no kids and the only friend that I had who had a child was not able to make it.

For my daughter's second birthday party I figured it was time to smarten up and be a mom. A healthy one at that so I made banana chocolate chip whole grain muffins.

I ended up throwing them all out as it turns out the six kids at the party couldn't stomach them.

Wonder why?

For my daughter's third party, I got smart and bought an angel food cake, a tray of strawberries and whipped cream. I cute the cake in have and put whipped cream in between the layers and all over the cake. Turns out that whipping cream makes cake slippery and it falls over.

Thankfully it waited until after I started cutting it.

For my daughter's fourth party, I made dirt mud pie cake complete with gummy worms. We used Cool Whip, chocolate graham crackers and Oreos.

I ended up throwing out most of them as I served too big slices and it was too sweet.

For my daughter's fifth party, I held a huge bash and can't remember any of it.

For my daughter's sixth party, we partnered up with my sister-in-law and celebrated a double birthday for the cousins. She made the cake and we all loved it.

For my daughter's seventh birthday, we went BIG. Seven is a big deal to my girl ever since she was four. So, We searched online, I learned about crumbing a cake, and designs and all sorts of stuff. We took two days to make it-her little hands helping beside mine.

We did it! Ta-da!

But I ended up throwing a good deal of it out because the icing was way too sweet.

Where's the moral? there isn't one.

But I will say this: I am a mom who will bake my child's cake until she asks me to stop doing it.

Until then, I will continue to build memories with little hands beside me making cake.

Dirty Hands & Clay Pots

The seeds are planted, tucked safely under a layer of dirt. They have been watered and the clay pot that surrounds them eagerly anticipates the roots that are to hold the plant firm while it weathers the storms that comes it's way.

It's a new start.

But what's this?

The seed and the earth and all potential for growth has been poured out. The container for new growth is abandoned in search of familiar old ground.

The clay pot is empty. Purposeless.

But what's this?

The Gardener comes and gently pours dirt back into the container. He gingerly places the seed into the pot and safely tucks it under a blanket of fresh earth.

Why?

He's determined to grow fruit.

And He'll do it with patience and love. Time and time again.

Even when the clay pot feels lifeless, pointless and void of worth.

Why?

Because He's not afraid to get His hands dirty.

John 15:1

I (Jesus) am the true vine, and my Father is the gardener.