Undone

Most of the time when you come here, I am hopeful that you will have a laugh or two - even if it's at the expense of my reputation!

However, this week has been not-quite-so-funny. There have been bittersweet pills to swallow. Blessings disguised as death. And tragedy. Here's the week in order:

A close friend's mom passed away. I never met Ruth from New York. But I hear she was a wonderful Christian woman who left the legacy of a wonderful faith-filled life. She was in her eighties and ready to see Jesus.

A thirty-year-old woman I'd never met, and never will, was killed in a car accident in the small community where I work. I passed the accident just after it happened; and was saddened by the jumbled mess of cars and emergency vehicles surrounding the scene.

My very dear friend's grandmother passed away. She was in her nineties and moved here 18 months ago when she could no longer care for herself in California. She loved God and had been active in her church in her younger years; but the ugly disease of Alzheimers had taken over and she made life miserable for all who cared for her, including my friend and her husband. Occasionally she'd have a good day with kind words, but most days she lived bitter. Her family faithfully cared for her; and in her last few days they were able to exchange some mutual loving words before she went to meet her Savior.

Friday, a good friend passed away. Lung issues and other health problems caused her body to give out. I remember Bonnie as the "woman who did everything." She had been a nurse, a flower arranger, a seamstress, a crafter. She made a H-U-G-E pink bow that covered the entire roof of the surprise new Mustang for my fortieth birthday. It seemed there was nothing she couldn't do.

Which brings me to my thoughts today. Of course, all week I have been grateful for the promise of eternal life for those who love and follow Jesus. But, as Bonnie was life-flighted to the hospital earlier this week, I wonder if she knew she wouldn't return home. And, for that matter, I doubt the thirty year old in the car accident had any idea she wouldn't return home that day.

I wonder what they left undone. Bonnie was always doing something. Did she leave craft projects half-finished? Was she making another pair of curtains? Did she anticipate returning home to finish something?

You know, it's one thing to leave leisure time activities undone, but I've been thinking about my own life. If I were to leave my house tomorrow and not return, what would I leave undone? Words I should have said? Time spent with someone? Deeds for somebody in need? Words written to encourage, inspire, or lift someone's day?

What don't you want to be left undone?

Treadmills...revisited

One of my previous blogs was about treadmills. I've never owned one. Never really wanted to. Where would I put it? (If you've been to my house, you appreciate the answer to that question.)

However, son-who-brought-home-a-jump-rope (see another previous blog) hauled a treadmill home the other day. Is this what 20 year-olds do? See, I've never had a 20 year-old live in my house. This is my fourth kid; but all his older siblings, for the most part, were moved out by their 20th birthdays. Fourth kid still lives here (which, for the record, is fine with me); and he brings things home - like jump ropes and treadmills.

And the cool thing is that he paid more for the jump rope than he did for the treadmill. Not sure what he paid for the jump rope, but if he only paid $3.96, that was $3.96 more than he paid for the treadmill. Yep, he found it at the end of someone's driveway. Sign said:

Free. It works.

Where did he put it? In our basement. Which is forbidden territory unless you are a furace repairman, plumber, or looking for a great place for a Halloween party. It's unfinished. Scary. Cob-webby. Has rock walls and dirt-floors (except for a few concrete areas for jump ropes and treadmills.)

But I thought I should try out the treadmill. Now I'm not a treadmill expert. But I think the treadmills I use at the YMCA are from the 21st century. I named ours T-Rex. Short for Treadmill Rex.



Check out this dashboard:

Notice the slide button:






This great feature allowed me to choose warm-up, fat burn, or aerobic. Just know that if you come use our T-Rex, your water will slosh out of your cup in the cupholder if you work up to aerobic. I think it has something to do with Rex's sturdiness. I sort of feared for my safety when I began running. Elvis being all shook up had nothing on T-Rex. But he whirred right along and I got some exercise. At the end of the day, T-Rex helped me get the job done.










I've said it before, and I'll probably keep saying it, treadmills are not my exercise of choice. And as I looked across the basement during my work-out, I saw exactly the thing that resembles how I feel on state-of-the-art treadmills or our newly acquired treadmill:

Looking Forward to a Clean Sweep

Weeks like this past week makes my upcoming Spring Break the best thing since dark chocolate and diet Coke.

I had meetings every night. The kids I work with in several places had behavior off the charts. Stress caused numerous people around me to succumb to tears. My dad was taken to hospital via ambulance. Thankfully it was influenza because, at first, his symptoms seemed stroke-like.

Thursday I was kicked out of the YMCA's dressing room. Their plumber showed up to fix the toilet while I was still in my towel and wet hair. So I had to throw on my clothes, leave the locker room, and arrive at work with no make-up and very undone hair. (That alone registers a 10 out of 10 on my stress scale.) I finished getting ready at work, right after a few co-workers got a good laugh at my au naturale appearance.

I knew everything was starting to take a toll on me that evening when I got the water pitcher out of the fridge, poured a drink, and then proceded to put the water pitcher in the kitchen cabinet.

On paper, these don't seem like life shaking events. But in real time, the stress of it all prompted me to call the chiropractor Friday for my neck pain, which I'm sure stemmed from stress. Of course, I couldn't get in Friday. That wouldn't have fit with the week.

I've had a little levity to finish off the week though. Some co-workers performed this feat:

Yep - the broom is standing by itself. It seems this is the internet rage right now. People all over are standing brooms up - just because they can! I've read mutliple theories on how this is happening:

• brooms have always been able to stand by themselves; we've just never been bored enough to try this trick
• earthquakes have knocked the earth's gravitational pull off slightly; but don't worry, everything will be back to normal on March 20 (really?)
• the Equinox is responsible, or
• the planets are aligned just right (what was that '70s song?)

My oldest child (an engineer, nonetheless) didn't believe me about the brooms. He did his own test:

Yep - same results.

Strange bizarre happenings. A stress filled week. 

One of my favorite songs talks about a time when I won't have to deal with this any more. The song is called WHERE I BELONG by Building 429.

To appreciate this song, you probably need to have a belief like me. That when we die, there is something beyond just a six-foot hole in the ground. That you are more than just a feast for the worms. That there is a place beyond our wildest imagination filled with God's peace and His presence.

I'm not sure the true cause of the stress I see around me, or the freakish brooms. But I look forward to the day when it will all be behind me.





Here's a link to WHERE I BELONG ... enjoy! And maybe the next equinox the brooms will sweep the floor by themselves.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3F81afXrcA4&feature=related

And the winner is . . .

We have a winner for our FREE BOOK.

After I coerced, twisted his arm, and threatened to remove his college funding, Child #4 was thrilled to draw a name out of our authentic Down-Under Australian Hat  . . .

And the winner is - Kathy B ! Kathy, your book is on its way. Thanks to all who entered.

This weekend was crazy busy and I didn't have time to get to the YMCA on Saturday. It was sunny Saturday so I thought I'd try a quick workout at home. I remembered college-son had bought a new piece of highly sophisticated workout equipment . . .

Now when I think of jump ropes I think of kindergarten and, "Cinder-ella, dressed in yell-a; went upstairs to kiss her fell-a; how many kisses did it take?" Then you would jump, count the number of jumps until you missed, and that is how many kisses it would take. Take for what, I'm not sure. But we didn't ask that in Kindergarten. Maybe it took 54 kisses to get the prince to decide you were a keeper. Or 15 kisses to decide you didn't want to be a keeper.  At any rate, this was easy stuff in kindergarten.

Since I'm no stranger to sweating a bit, jump roping shouldn't have been a problem even though it's been forty-five years since kindergarten. But after about two minutes of jumping, I realized different muscles are used to jump at age fifty rather than run. To divert my attention, I even tried the "Cinder-ella, dressed in yella . . ." routine. Let me tell you, it didn't take many kisses till I had to stop because my calf muscles were staging a revolt.

 

But something else happened. After stopping and starting this jumping routine several times, I realized other muscles that surrounded a particular inside bodily organ weren't quite what they used to be in Kindergarten. Let me say it as tenderly as I can: if you're over forty or have had a kid or two, you know what bodily function I'm talking about. It's the one that warns us women we can't walk and sneeze at the same time without embarrassing ourselves. 

I'm not going to give up jump roping, though. Next time I'll just make sure I visit the little girls' room first. 

By the way - THANKS TO ALL WHO CAME TO MY BOOK SIGNING. It was great! My daughter is my favorite photographer. She loves to capture me at my best: