Texas isn't so big after all

After our recent camping trip with our homegroup, I am re-convinced of two things:

1. Food cooked over a fire just tastes better!
2. And God has a sense of humor that is as generous as it is mischievous.

Eight of us drove over the wildflowered Texan countryside to finally arrive after dark. It was the first camping trip several of the girls had ever taken, but they were great sports about the bugs and sleeping on the ground!

We even pitched our tent before before the guys had theirs up. (Not that it was a race or anything.)

I'm no outdoor expert, but my childhood is crowded with memories of helping Daddy set up our big three-room tent, of marshmallows browned to perfection over dancing flames, and of milky air full of morning sunshine as we rolled out of our sleeping bags. Other families went to Disneyland or Vegas--this was our vacation of choice. We reveled in the gloriously unscheduled freedom of unexplored woods and lakes and the chance to play with learn how to responsibly build a fire.

That weekend the weather was straight out of a camping magazine: crisp and cool evenings, with warm, breezy middays that made you wistful for a hammock. The night was cool and bright with stars. The group built a fire and talked for hours as the moon traced a path on the lake.

 The next morning, we had just finished some delicious breakfast tacos when it happened.

Hubby slyly tugged on my shoulder and pointed to the road. There, walking along toward us were my AUNT AND UNCLE and two of their dear friends!

My Uncle Dave was able to film my reaction with his iPhone. Enjoy this short clip of my shock:

Apparently, my aunt and uncle were camping with their friends only six campsites down the way. My husband and uncle had bumped into each other earlier that morning at the bathroom shared by all the campsites in our loop. They walked past each other before recognition kicked in, but once they realized the connect, they cooked up a plan to surprise the rest of us.

We even got to Facetime my parents and let them in on the reunion!

 

Five Minute Friday::Glue

Today I am linking up with Five Minute Friday, a writing exercise where you set a timer for five minutes and write on a specific topic until it chimes at you to lift your fingers from the keyboard. You can join in here!

Today's word = GLUE

Yesterday was all unraveled and ragged. I flew out the door with my shoes barely on my feet and a granola bar in my hand. Seriously, God bless granola bar makers.

My house looks like a garage sale after all the good pickings have been picked over. Ever since our washing machine decided to re-create Noah's Flood two weeks ago, we've been living in a carpet-less home without baseboards or doors or basic organization. Just getting out the door is a feat of memory and agility. Where was my jacket again...? *wracks brain, bumps into furniture*

It really hasn't been too bad. Now that the thirteen rumbling red industrial fans and honking-huge dehumidifier are gone, at least I have a kitchen again. Even while the fans roared, we laughed about their white noise making it easy to sleep.

But yesterday at work my shoulders and neck creaked with painful lumps as the phone constantly rang and rang and rang and my throat grew dry from explaining. The papers piled up faster than I could sort them. My fingers clicked constantly, almost independent of my tired brain as the mental to-do list grew longer and heavier.

It felt like I was coming unglued. Can anyone relate?

I stumbled up the stairs to our homegroup meeting with only half a heart to be there. Heavy-eyed, foggy-brained from my desperate post-work nap, I willed myself to sit.

"Between the songs", they said,  "let's tell what God has been doing in our hearts". What have You been doing, Lord? I wondered. I'm so unglued and discombobulated.

As I flipped backward in the blue journal looking for scraps I'd chanced to record, I found the sweetest words. Words that had patched me together on another ragged, teary day in January.

"Cherise, you do not have less at this moment when you are exhausted and fighting a cold than you do on days when you are well-rested, healthy, and feel in control. You have Me in abundance at all times, and I am all you need."

Wonderful truth.

He is not diminished if I am depleted, and He holds even my unraveled, unglued moments together by his powerful Word.


Side note: My homegroup will notice that this journal entry wasn't what I shared last night with the group. It felt like a personal hug from Jesus for that moment, something just between the two of us for me to feel his love while I shared something else out loud. But now, in the light of a new day, it seemed  appropriate to share.  I hope someone else will feel His love in the middle of an unglued moment like mine. 

Book Review::Surprised by Motherhood

I am not a mother, but odds are I will be someday.

 

Someday my fridge will be covered with crayon masterpieces, my walls with jelly stains, and my floors with cheerios. Someday hubby and I will be entrusted with one or more miniature humans and I know deep in my gut that our lives will never be the same.  

 

Honestly, it’s terrifying.

 

Even though I love children.

Even though I get wistful over the soft curls of my friend's kids.

Even though I pray for the ones who will someday look like me and my husband.

Change has just never been my favorite, and the knowledge that two little pink lines will one day change absolutely everything--well, it scares the bejeezus out of me.

 

When that day comes, I will be so thankful for moms like Lisa-Jo and brave, hope-filled words like hers that come straight from the trenches. Which is why...I'm unashamedly doing my very first book review/promo for her!

 

Surprised by Motherhood reads like a heartfelt conversation on the couch with the author, a girl from South Africa who married a "cowboy-green eyed" man from the Northwest on the firm understanding that she would never bear his children. Ten years and three kids later, she bravely bares her heart and invites you into the messy, hilarious journey all laced with truth and wild hope.

 

 

She writes for you mommies. You, the ones who feel caught on the exhausting treadmill of life wondering, "will things ever slow down?" She believes you deserve a super-hero cape and a cheering squad and she's volunteering to wave pom-poms for you.

 

"I would throw away most of the parenting books that made me feel like I was somehow failing this most important test of womanhood—being a mother. I’d throw out the advice about what I was doing wrong or should be doing differently or should aspire to be doing. I’d just revel in the daily, sleep-deprived merry-go-round and eat a lot more chocolate cake.(p. x)"

 

She puts it this way:

This isn’t a “how-to” book, it’s simply my “you can” story.

 

She writes for you daughters too, especially for those who feel the absence of their mothers. When she was entering high school, her own mom was entering a hospital. Now, more than eighteen years after her mother's death, Lisa-Jo understands the pain of working through the unsaid, the unexplained. Whether the absence is literal or emotional, the wounds are real and she offers her own journey in all its confusion and healing.

 

She also writes for the not-yet mommies and someday mommies, the ones of us who need someone to say, "I was scared too. Yes, it's hard--but it's glorious and beautiful and worth it."

 

“Parenting is not for the faint of heart. And it’s especially not for those type A personalities accustomed to having all their ducks in a row, all their check boxes checked, and their sofa cushions, cereal boxes, and entire lives neatly arranged.” (p. 4)

 

  It doesn't hurt that she is type-A like me. Just an added layer of commonality to make me believe dying to self in the area of perfection might actually be possible.

Grab the first three chapters here for free!