That Sneaky Fox

We're on a Dora kick around here. Which I thought was good, because honestly, I can only watch "Packer's First Day" so many times before I want to tear through Sunflower Valley like King Kong and stomp flat all those charming claymation trucks (not to mention Bob himself). And, well, we only watch one video a day, usually. What's a half-hour of interactive Spanish?

Except that there's this fox on Dora. His name is Swiper. It follows that Swiper swipes things from Dora. M thinks Swiper's hilarious. Ingenious. Emulation-worthy.

And so, thanks to Dora, I'm constantly turning around to discover that the bibs/stool/potholders are gone. From another room comes M/Swiper's menacing promise: "You'll never find them now!"

Indeed. As if I needed another challenge in my life.

Vampire detox, anyone?

And I emerge from the Twilight saga at last. It's hard to believe how many pages of frivolous text I've managed to consume in the last week. And it's painful to accept that I can never seem to read quality literature that voraciously. But it was a nice break from reality.

My only recommendation? Stop at Book 3. Because it really wasn't worth Book 4, at least not to me. And I just hate to finish feeling like I would have been happier stopping, oh, say, 750 pages earlier.

Now bigger and better things! Er, next week. Shouldn't everyone have the weekend off?

Just a sec--Mommy's engrossed

Since you already know how to get me through a fast shower, how about sweeping and mopping the floors? Because I can get it all down in ten minutes flat. Just dangle the next Twilight book in front of me. I'm like a starving bunny on a bag of baby carrots.

Life Abundant, continued

I've been pondering the whole Life abundant notion this weekend, when God got fed up and helped me out. Okay, I'm sure He meant it nicely. But surprise of all surprises, M agreed to go to his Sunday School class this morning. By himself. For the whole time. Provided he got all of Mommy's car keys and his choice for lunch. AND K went into the nursery. By herself. And only cried a little. Apparently there was much to do with the babies that required her immediate non-crying attention. So B and I could enjoy the sermon in peace.

And then, not that I really should have been surprised by this point, the sermon continued in the book of Ecclesiastes, in which Solomon throws out his two cents on life's meaning. And what do you think it was? (I'm envisioning bored yawns by this point) Enjoy the moment! For in the end, we all come to the same fate (death, in case you're in some form of denial), and we all suffer the same unfair trials and tribulations and random chance moments while getting there. So all we can have is our life as it stands in this moment, and, if we have faith in God and goodness, hope for a better tomorrow.

That's where our pastor ended. But I still felt a little unfulfilled. Because to me, it's about what hope can inspire you to do in that moment. Hope to see your grandchildren grow up? That's smashing. Now get off your duff and exercise. Hope to make amends with your estranged friend? That's brilliant. Now pick up the phone and give them a call. Hope to be a better person? That's grand. Now be that person, today. (I bet by now we're hoping that I watch a little less British television. But don't worry. I've run out of corny British adjectives anyway)

When I think of having life abundantly, I imagine life as an orange I hold in my hand. I peel it apart, take a really awesome juicer, and just juice the heck out of the thing until all that's left is a hollowed out little peel. Then I take that peel and chew it whole. Okay, I'd actually put it down my garbage disposal so that everything smells nice and orangey, but it's the same point. I make sure that I squeeze everything little bit of good out of it. Because I've only got one orange today, and I can't save it for tomorrow either. Besides, there's another orange tomorrow. Or maybe there's not. And if not, wouldn't you like to know that you made the best use of your last orange?

The exact verse: "Whatever your hand finds to do, do it with all your might; for there is no activity or planning or knowledge or wisdom in [death] where you are going" (Ecc. 9:10).

So wherever you are and whatever you are doing, give it your all. Appreciate everything. Hope for things better. And make them happen, as best you can, today. This one shot, that's God's gift to you, and He gave it to you so that you would enjoy it as fully as possible. That's a little more what living a life abundant means to me.

Life Abundant

I've been absent, I know, and for no good reason. Well, okay, one. I've been thinking a lot about this blog and where it's going. Besides its aimless meander through my life. I know I have readers, but I wonder what they get, other than a little glimpse into a life that is not theirs.

As a writer, I often face a similar roadblock. What can I say that hasn't been said already? How can I be interesting at all when so many other interesting people have come before me?

Faced with this roadblock, I have a tendency to shut down. I don't have anything new to say, I tell myself. I'm not interesting, not compared to all the rest.

But I must be interesting, somewhat, since I have readers who comment on my insights, and since I have essays that draw interest.

So this leads me to the question of purpose. I think this is also known as developing a platform, but I prefer to think of it less as a jumping off point and more as a goal in the distance. Should people have interest in this goal--either in terms of joining me or else out of curiosity over how I manage it--then they become readers. Or rather, they become more engaged readers. Because I'm only going to have so many witty stories to share before they all start sounding the same.

I know this is my business, but it also goes to the whole blog itself. I started out, so long ago, perplexed by a title, finally giving up in the hopes that I'd someday stumble across something more definitive. Except I don't think you really stumble across things like that. It might take a little digging too.

So I'm breaking out my shovels and asking myself what matters in my life. What do I strive for? What do I want to focus on in my daily life? I've been praying a lot, too. For a long time I've felt God's gentle hand guiding me toward a writer's life, and I don't know why. It seems, to my logical self, the hardest road possible, one that I don't even deserve to be on. But He wouldn't ask me to go this far without thinking it was important.

The thing that I come back to is a Bible verse that has long stuck in my heart: "The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly." (John 10:10). It's part of Jesus' parable of the Good Shepard. I'm not theologian and have little to offer regarding the meat of this parable (this is my I'm-not-a-spiritual-guide warning), but the notion of life abundant strikes a particular chord in my soul. I think that it goes to everlasting life, but I think that it also reflects our life on Earth. Because we all do have a life on Earth, and I believe that while we are here, God wants us to live it abundantly.

Anyway, that's where I am now. Life abundant. And where I go from here? Excellent question. For another day.

Peppermint tea, anyone?

When you go to put the leftover candy canes away for next Christmas, only to discover the leftover candy canes from last Christmas, you come to realize (A) that no one really likes candy canes in this house and (B) that you really don't need to buy any more of them.

(But maybe we'll want peppermint hot chocolate! Or peppermint brownies! What is Christmas without a candy cane?)

And see? This is how I end up with a drawer full of stale candy canes.

The Time of our Lives

Ever since K was born, I have been truly enjoying every minute of our lives. Okay, not every minute, exactly, but the general moment in which we exist. I can actually remember her being four months and M being two and thinking that I would freeze them right then and there for the rest of our lives, I was so blissfully satisfied. And I still am. I love that I feel this way, because I know that I am concentrating on what we have, without looking forward or back too much, and getting the most out of it as a result.

But you know what sucks? It doesn't make time go any slower. No matter how much I can love this time, absolutely relishing in it like a hot pig in cold mud, it doesn't change the fact that each minute still passes away in sixty unforgiving seconds.

I was driving home with the kids, the car warm in the sun, after having a fun morning with friends and a picnic lunch with B. We pulled into the drive talking about our daily video and nap/rest time, and it struck me, rather sharply, that these days are numbered. M will be in preschool three days come fall, and then, one year later, he will be in kindergarten and K will be in preschool.

M and I have spent so much time together these past three and half years. We have discovered so many new things, including K, and the three of us have made so many great friends and happy memories. I feel lonely already to think of them in school, those days behind us, our lives no longer so flexible and free.

I know that I will have other fun things to look forward to, that each stage brings its own blessings to replace the passing of other joys. But it is sad, too, to realize that no matter how I can enjoy this time, I can never enjoy it enough.

But the paper is so pretty

B: Are you ready for scrapbooking?
Me: Uh-huh.
B: What do you plan to work on?
Me: I hope to put as many pictures on paper as possible.
B: Oh. I see.

Yes, well, everyone needs a hobby. Some are just more useful than others.