Finally, something about Christmas or a Post about Justin

     I have not had nearly as much time/energy/gumption to post as much about Christmas as I'd like which I guess just goes to show you can't control the nature of a blog anymore than you can control the nature of the weather or what that crazy Miley's going to do next. At least I can't.  


I suppose.  And yes, that was all one sentence...and probably minus a few commas.    


     Last week, I had the opportunity to meet with my friend Justin whom I have not seen in almost three years (yikes!)  


     I was nervous.  I don't know why.  I spread my napkin across my lap even though I had not really expressed an interest in eating and avoided eye contact for a good ten minutes. I also had roughly nine cups of coffee...which I'm sure didn't help.   


     I feel as if, when I met Tim, all the relationships I had with boys-who-are-just-friends scattered like overturned chess pieces.  Justin is one of the three or four that managed to land upright, and I am so very grateful for that.  


     And as for the others?  Well, its not anyone's fault, really.   Those lines are so hard to draw.  As a wife...a friend...a 20-something, you want to be hip and cool and fun. You don't want to come off as awkward (too late!) or old-fashioned or picky... but let's face it, especially in this day and age, no one else is going to protect your marriage for you.  


Which leads us to now.  


     Sitting across from him, I couldn't help but think about(and perhaps awkwardly point out) our differences.  Democrat (I think?)...Republican....work-at-home....9-5er...City....Country...and the list goes on.  At one point, I even compared us to Abraham Lincoln and John Wilkes Booth...and later invited him to a movie (which in hindsight was probably creepy.  I promise I won't shoot you in the middle of the film.  I will at least let you catch the end of it. Ha.)


    The world will tell  has told us that we should, in a sense, be enemies.  We are standing on two completely different sides of a long, unwavering line.  


Yet, one thing remained glaringly obvious...  


how much we still have in common.  


     You see, we are a world full of people who want to be understood.  We want to be accepted.  We want to be loved.  No amount of cornfields or train rides or speeches from politicians is going to change that.  


And now on to Christmas.  


     Recently, I was thinking about the wise men and the shepherds.  Which is pretty basic, I know.  I'm not going to get into the logistics of Christmas...dates and astronomy and speculations about geography and history and religion.  


Snoozefest.  


     I do believe that something special happened and that someone came to Jesus who represented The Poor, being the Shepherd, and that someone else came representing The Wealthy (The Wise men).  I think there is such value in that, and it's such a matter of perspective.  


     I think the Shepherds represent making sacrifices that aren't tangible...our time...our effort...our own personal agendas...while the wise men's sacrifices represent what we have to give that is valuable to the world.  


Complete opposites... different sides, same coin.  


And now back to Justin.  See how I did that?  (J, you can be one of the wise men.  Being from the country, I've kind of got a way with sheep.)  


     Yeah, it only took me nearly an hour of staring at a blank screen...not to mention the 6 days I had to actually sit on that in my brain.  Ha.  
     
     You know, I spent some time on a recent online blogging forum in which people expressed a general disdain for blogs that mention God/religion.  


     My heart ached just a bit, and I thought about the voice in my head that sometimes says, "Don't mention God/religion too much.  It will isolate people."  


Meh.  


     But I am proud to say that voice rarely wins.  


     This blog is sometimes about Jesus.  
     
     If that's not your bag then don't sweat it.  You are welcome here, and I hope you find something you like because I also tend to ramble about how much I love coffee and my dogs and cooking with my crock pot.    


For some, this season is about Religion and traditions and Jesus.  


(I hope) for all of us, this season is about finding love, peace, hope, and joy and I pray all those things will be evident for you this year.  


Love, 
H. 

Hurry up, there's no title or Running in Heels

This is exactly what I have been feeling like these days, and you want to know the truly scary thing?  Between snow days, and a pre-scheduled personal day, I only had a 2 day work week last week.  Where does the time go?  You don't even want to see my dining room table right now.  I better get busy or Santa is going to be horrified.  All I need is a bulldozer, a shovel and a really big dumpster.  On an unrelated note, how much do you love Rachel McAdams?  My guess is lots.  Lots and Lots.  

I've missed you. Meh.  Tis' the season, right?  Raise your hand if you are so incredibly busy.  

(((hand in air)))

Love and holding-out-till-break-starts-on-Wednesday, 

H.  

This Actually Isn't About Christmas At All

     Tonight, I took a bubble bath, more as an attempt at finding motivation than out of a desire to unwind. I sat for a few minutes, tugging at a strand of hair that had sought refuge on my left knee.  

 I also thought, a bit, about Christmas* and babies.  

     One of the things I love about having a niece is seeing what motherhood has done to my sister.  She is now absolutely insane.**  


     All joking aside, it has made her so incredibly honest and courageous and vulnerable.  


     The truth is, so much of my lack of interest in babies right now is born from fear.  I don't know that I will ever feel fill-in-the-blank-enough to be a capable mother.  Organized enough-brave enough-disciplined enough-punctual enough. No, that is not self-depricating.  That is me.  At my most honest.  We all worry about being fill-in-the-blank-enough to do or be something, and if you don't then you need to tell me your trick. I will pay you five dollars. I will.  


     I talked to Sweet Heather Marie about this.  She said motherhood does something to you.  It makes you more brave.  More efficient.  She couldn't explain it, but I heard her.  Really. I did.  


     And so, during this bath of mine, Scarlett came in and attempted to drink the water (gross, right?) and licked my nose (not gross...right?).  And I decided that motherhood must be a calling.  


Motherhood must be a calling, and The Bible is heavy with stories of people doing things even though they aren't fill-in-the-blank-enough.  


Holy Cow.  One of Moses' first complete sentences to God after being called to save the people of Israel was, "I stutter."  (Exodus 4:10)


Excuses, excuses, right?  


     It is hard for me to have conversations about babies with people who add, "You know you're never really ready to have a baby, right?"  


     I get it. Really. I do.  Tim and I are never going to look at each other and say, "What are we going to do with all this extra money in our savings account? I know! Let's have a baby!"  Or "Isn't it getting really old?  This thing where we sleep all night every night?  I know! Let's have a baby."  


However, when I am met with this answer, it makes me feel as if people aren't really listening.  


And, I know, some of that is my fault.  


     Like I said, it's a calling.  Perhaps on my days when I am not feeling quite as brave- the days when my coffee gets cold before I have time to finish it or I can't find my favorite pair of earrings...those are the days I get defensive.  


     I think the most important thing we can do is stay open- lay in the belly of the whale or let go of the basket and give The Whole Thing over to something that is greater than ourselves.  


     I will tell you this much.  We are not trying to have a baby.  I don't want to give you the wrong impression.  However, our time frame isn't really a bean I'm willing to spill.  I doubt you'll ever hear me say, "Today I had a really good turkey sandwich and quit taking my birth control." 


I give credit to bloggers who are able to be that bold- that honest.  


Me? I don't really like that kind of pressure.  I don't want people looking at my oven as if there is a bun in it.  


But I will also tell you that we are getting there.  We are building the ark.  We just haven't gathered the animals.  


Love and a thousand random-bible-story-references (all that was missing was the felt board), 
H.  


*This had absolutely nothing to do with Christmas.  It was going to at first, and then it got long.  Stay tuned.
**You are not insane.  Please don't get hormonal and tear my eyes out. I love you. ((nervous laugh))


Hey! What smells so good?  Click the picture to find out! 

This is My Husband

Sometimes, he sits on the brown, whicker trunk in the corner of our bedroom and plays me to sleep.  It's ok to swoon just a little.  I'll let you.



Thanks for listening.  I'm one proud peach.

Love and a mighty good husband,
H.

Tender Mercies or, "It's called Propane, Bobby..."

     I sort of feel like we are graduating- like we really aren't "newlyweds" anymore.  That thought used to make me a little sad, but now- I am reveling in the fact that Tim and I have, to a certain extent, caught our stride.  During the first year of our marriage, I had a really, really difficult group of kiddos.  One with cancer, one with vision loss and a rare, terminal illness, two with developmental issues, the list goes on. Did I also mention that I was in the middle of earning my Master's degree?  


((sigh))


It was a tough year.  Tim was working a lot.  We had each just lost a grandparent.  We were merely surviving. 


     The second year, I think- was the hardest. Perhaps, it was the hardest because we finally had time. He had time to think about how annoying it is when I load the dishwasher as if a tiny grenade has gone off inside it.  

     I had time to overanalyze and pout over absolutely everything that came out of his mouth.  Yes, for six months or so, I became THAT wife.  Yikes.  


We usually called that "being cats & dogs" because that was the way we were "fighting."  


But now?  


Well, now that we are rounding the corner on year three, I think we have both managed to sync up.  When he's a cat, I'm a cat.  When I'm a dog, he's a dog.  


Thank you, Jesus.  (and I mean that with all sincerity).  


With that being said, maybe when you "graduate" out of newlywedishness,*  mastering the wood stove is yet another benefit.  


     In case you were wondering, the majority of our credit card debt stems from the fact that our house is was heated with propane, and in case you were also wondering, propane must come from five carat diamonds or the bones of exotic, endangered animals because propane.is.expensive.  


We were not prepared to spend that kind of money on something so stinky and expensive. 


     So, for a while, we tried heating our entire house with space heaters and a wood stove.  The house would sink to the low fifties while we were gone during the day.  It would take hours to creep into the low sixties at night.  


I did not know how cold we were keeping it until I saw how many "Photobooth" pictures were of me wearing my coat.  

Ha.  See?  


Oh, the life of an impoverished and (somewhat naive) newlywed.  


I used to hate our wood stove.  I think I even have that fact listed somewhere in my profile on an obscure, social networking site.  


But this year?  The wood stove has decided to play nice.  I think it has to do with the fact that we've had an outpouring of fire wood these days.  It seems as if, for a while, people were constantly coming up to Tim and asking if he could come get a fallen tree out of their yard or pick up a few miscellaneous logs...a family friend, a cousin, a choir member at church.  


So, now we have wood.  Lots and lots of dry, seasoned wood (and a few more baseboard heaters to boot).  


I think in mormon culture, they call those kinds of things "Tender Mercies."  Times when God just totally throws you a bone.  


What can I say?  I've said it once...ok a lot, and I will say it again.  


The Lord provides.  


So, if you have a wood stove or something else in your life that is being particularly dastardly, hang in there.  


You'll get the best of it in the end. 


See- here's living proof.  This is a picture of me NOT wearing my coat in the living room.  The current temperature is 70 degrees, and if the stove wasn't so incredibly hot right now, I'd hug it...and kiss it on the cheek.  


Look mom, no coat! 

Love and NOT being able to see my breath in the living room, 
H.  


This was wayyy longer than what I had intended.  Thank you for reading 9 paragraphs about my wood stove.  


Seriously.  Thank you.  


*Oh yea, and newlywedishness is not a word.  Don't really try to use it.  

Oh, we own kmart now.

       I think I accidentally dressed like Liz Lemon yesterday.  You know what?  I was super-comfy.  Perfect for this rainy weather we've been having.  That Liz Lemon.  She's one step ahead of me every time.  

Jack Donaghy:	"I'm Jack Donaghy. New VP of development for NBC-GE-Universal-Kmart."
Pete Hornberger:	"Oh, we own Kmart now."
Jack Donaghy:	"No. So why are you dressed like we do?"

Love and extra behind-the-ears-scratches,
H.