The randomness of it all

I cannot tell you how many times I sit to write at my computer and I think to myself "don't write about that, that just seems random". I generally never really know what my next blog post will be, I'm not organized and "together" like that. But then a new day comes with fresh thoughts and ideas and so I sit and type. Sometimes ideas come in the midst of a project with my husband and sometimes it is while I am doing my bible study. I am an emotional person and I tend to swing from one extreme thought to the other very quickly. This blog has so many times reflected that. I bounce around a lot around here, and in the spirit of keeping it real, I feel as though I should acknowledge that reality. This blog is indeed random. If you have ever cared enough to wonder if I am aware that I tend to be all over the place with my thoughts, the answer is yes. I am very well aware! This space has become a random snapshot of the days that are making up my life. It has evolved into something that I never expected it to, and I wonder if it will eventually become something I never thought it would.

Playing Sublimely has provided a safe place for me to write out my heart. The computer screen between you and I has become somewhat of a security blanket for me, for better or for worse. Any of my girlfriends would tell you, social interaction is not where I thrive...I tend to be guarded and a little awkward in social situations. It is not that I am different in real life than I am on this blog, it's just that here at my computer I have the freedom to express myself in my own way, and on my own time, as I type out my thoughts...a luxury we do not have in daily life, in face to face relationships.

So I guess what I am trying to say is "thank you". Thank you for being you! Thank you for visiting me here, for reading, and for commenting. Thank you for taking your precious time to listen. You have become a great friend.

Randomness on a Friday

So all I have this morning is a small sampling of highlights (and maybe a low light) of things that have been occupying some of my time over the past week.

First: Don't you want to see what my cute carpenter is building for me? I want to show you, but my sorry self has yet to finish my craft room, and so for now I am stalling. I will tell you though that this man of mine has indeed outdone himself. Well, I should say he and Ella have outdone themselves. Homegirl comes prepared while working on a project with her daddy...does she not?

Second: My girlfriend and I have decided to turn our love of thrifting / antiquing / crafting into a business. We have officially opened up the doors of our very own store this week. Well, it is actually more of a boutique than a store. Well, it is actually more of a booth in an antique mall than a boutique, and all we really had to do to "open our doors" was to take down the "caution tape" that had been stretched over the opening of the booth to keep people out until all our items had been priced. But we are nonetheless calling it "the store", though it is probably more of a "hobby" than a "business". Can't wait to talk more about that in the future.

Lastly: I learned this week that my girls were using my face wash cloth in the shower to ensure that their heinies were good and clean. They said "oh, we didn't know that that was what it was for, we have always used it for our bottoms". So on that note my friends, enjoy your long weekend and use caution the next time you are washing your face.

This friendship of ours here seems to grow sweeter everyday...I always love hearing from you. Much love to you,

My coffee bar

This is one of my favorite spots in my house. I call it the coffee bar, a small little nook on my counter top that holds all of my favorite appliances. I have recently noticed that this seemingly small area of my home actually has great power over the outcome of my day...in a way. If I arrive here at 5:30 am, the promise of a good day is likely. If I arrive here at 7:15 am, you can bet your bottom dollar that I am also barking at children "hurry up and get in the car before we are late", and "you don't need to brush your teeth, I'm sure your breath smells fine", or maybe "grab a pop tart, we have no time for real food"...clearly a less than perfect start to a day. Such power a simple little place can have.

And don't think for one minute that the sign hanging on the wall hasn't been placed there quite intentionally. I read that every morning whether it is 5:30 am or 7:15 am, and every morning it speaks to me differently. Some mornings it is telling me to believe that through Him, I am capable of raising these children of mine. Some mornings it is telling me to believe that I am not slowly loosing my mind. Some mornings it whispers to believe "you are who He says you are, not who the world says you are ". And then there are some mornings it begs to just simply believe Him. Whatever the circumstance or the struggle, it offers a reminder of truth and encouragement...and a good cup of coffee. And whether that coffee cup is rushed or sipped and savored, it is indeed a gift, and my cup always runneth over.

Low country love

I have missed you. After being away from my computer for several days, I start to have a touch of blogger withdraw. We have been loving our South Carolina vacation though. It is one of my favorite places on this planet. I hope you enjoy a photo recap of what we have been up to, and it's so good to talk to you again!

An unexpected friendship

I realized yesterday that this space called "Playing Sublimely" turned one year old this week. I'm not sure that this information means anything really. I'm not sure that a blog can have a birthday, but for some reason it feels fitting to acknowledge it. It must be you that I really desire to acknowledge and recognize, because if you were not here than I would just be journaling. And if I were just journaling, I do not think I would feel a need to acknowledge the fact that I had been at it for a year...does that make any sense?

I would like to thank you for visiting me here. This online friendship we have has been unexpected, undeserved, and immensely appreciated and cherished. You have become a "girlfriend" I can talk to and visit with, and I love that. My desire is that this place will continue to be a blessing to you and to me, and if that ever ceases to be true, that I will close up shop here and move on. Thank you for reading, thank you for visiting, thank you for being you. If I had only one person read my blog each day, I would count that an overflowing blessing. So for each of you out there that is "more than one", know that my heart is grateful.

Seeing the mundane for lovely

This is what we did every morning at 7:30 am all year. I loaded my three kids into the car, picked up 4 more kids, and headed to school. We not only maximized the car capacity, but also Thomas' patience for being surrounded by little girls climbing over his head. I recorded our last trip together in the car because anything that you spend this much time doing, is worthy of recording. There is something about seeing it through a lens instead of my own eyes, that changes my perspective of it just enough to humble me. What a privilege it was every morning, a privilege that most days I didn't notice.

I caught a few things in this video that I am thrilled to have captured. One is Ella smacking her brother with her bag of silly band bracelets. No wonder I have taken away her bracelets, and no wonder Thomas cried every morning as the herd of children climbed over top of him. He would start crying each day as we pulled into the parking lot of the school. Thomas was just like one of Pavlov's dogs, conditioned to what was about to take place. But secondly, one of the children in my carpool said something that I didn't even hear that day, but caught when I was watching the video. She said "I love this part of the day, for some reason it just makes me feel good". I wonder what it was that made her so happy. To me, it was so often just the routine. Load them up, drive them there, drop them off. But there must have been something happening in between the repetitiveness that made it special.

God is so often in the unseen. There is plenty of the beauty of God in all that we see around us, but oh how much grace and love and majesty there is in the unseen. I love it when I see him in the unseen, when I wasn't really expecting him or looking for him. He makes the mundane lovely, and I don't want to ever miss the lovely.

Linking up today with Emily to unwrap this gift.

One year to go

They come to my house every Wednesday and sometimes I wonder why they do. They are my high school small group of girls from church. I think I am supposed to be doing profound things with them like reading the Bible from cover to cover, or at the very least the New Testament. Or maybe I am supposed to be giving them solid, biblical advise on life for all their struggles. Or maybe I am just supposed to be providing them with a place to get together and fellowship. I think my job falls somewhere between the lines of all these things, but it doesn't really matter because I am not sure I ever really accomplish any of it. It seems as though, regardless of my preparation or lack there of, sometimes I feel God really move, and then other times I just wonder why they drank all my milk without asking. Sometimes in the middle of discussion we all end up praying on our knees, and then sometimes Jesus isn't mentioned once and they end up in my bathtub playing dress up in my clothes. This high school ministry thing is a mystery. It is based around relationships and hormones and attitudes and a God that himself is a mystery. It is a humbling roller coaster of emotions. Some days I feel hopeless over them and then some days I get so excited to see God's hand in their lives.

They are Juniors now, so that means two things: I have known them for three years and I only have one year left. I wonder how I will feel when they are gone? I hope I will feel it has been worth every one's time, but I fear I will wonder what the heck we accomplished over the past four years. Please don't think I am fishing for a pep talk or some stamp of approval that I am doing a good job...I am not seeking that, I'm just pondering the mystery that is high school ministry. I know that I will miss them. I will miss the innocence of them, the beautiful jewels of Jesus' crown that they are, even though they don't know it...and refuse to believe me when I tell them. Maybe by the end of next year I can convince them of it, maybe. I am not holding my breath though, because I cannot even convince them to stop drinking all my milk.

It's good to be home

Do you have a home that was home for a long time while you were growing up? A place that when you think of childhood, you think of very specific streets where you use to ride your bike? I do. I grew up in one town my entire childhood, so for me it is not hard to quickly go back to those familiar places in my mind; and this past week we went back there in real life. My kids got to play with cousins, nanas, and papas...something they do not get to do very often. But just like I always feel, pulling back up in my driveway after being away feels good. It's the "new home" for me and the only home my kids know, and I like that. I like that they miss home while they are away, and that as they stretch while stepping out of the car after the long trip back they have smiles on their faces. It's good to be home.

Perspective

Perspective. It's all in our perspective of a what comes at us each day, much more than the actual events that take place. How does one person overcome and persevere tragedy seemingly effortlessly, and another person crumbles in the midst of the same set of circumstances? Well certainly there are more reasons than can be counted for why this is true, but I would like to suggest that there is one common thread that flows through the stories of success, well actually there are two. One is Jesus. That one is easy. But the other I believe is something that flows from the first, and that's perspective.

I visited a friend of mine yesterday that was in a car accident about three weeks ago. She was on her way home from a doctor's appointment and saw a car moving into her lane, and so she swerved. She swerved her vehicle directly into a picket fence that lined the road, and then found herself pinned in her car in the middle of a field. When the car came to its' resting place, she looked down to see her right hand holding her left hand...that was no longer attached to her arm. Her left hand had been completely cut off. Clearly and understandably so, she was in shock and remembers thinking "this is not good". She then remembers resigning herself to the fact that she was about to die and she told God or "Bud" as she will sometimes say, "I am ready". A few more blurred minutes passed and before she knew it, she was in an ambulance heading to the hospital. An unidentified man had tied a tourniquet around her bleeding arm, which is ultimately what saved her life. Her hand however could not be saved.

I do not know what I expected from my visit with her, but I certainly did not expect what I saw. Jen was still Jen. She talked a long time about life before she talked about her hand. When I could no longer handle the pink elephant in the room that clearly was only crowding me, I moved into my questions about the accident. She was so calm about the whole thing, very matter of fact. I didn't get the sense that she was in denial, or guarding herself from feeling the gravity of the situation, I just sensed perspective. She said, "Amy, those picket fences shot all the way through my car like spears, some missing me by no more than an inch, I am lucky to be alive". I was a little taken back, but then later I wondered why such truth and clarity would be so shocking to me. She was alive and so she was grateful. She continued with "I have two choices. I can be mad at God, the devil, and everybody else and be miserable for the rest of my life. Or I can choose not to, and I choose not to. It's a choice".

A choice. Just like that. I left our visit impressed with her, but honestly I think I was really more impressed with our God. He impresses me with the strength He has. He impresses me with the grace He pours out. He impresses me with the "eternal-ness" of all that He is. He doesn't tire, He doesn't grow weary, and He never runs out of all that is good. He didn't dump out a truck load of grace on Jen and then sit down in order to replenish His supply, the flow of life never ceases to flow. That is impressive to me, and it made me glad to know Him. I didn't think I could be any more smitten with Him then I already was, and yet I was surprised once again...and I was grateful for her life and for the much needed perspective that she unknowingly handed to me.

He was a good dog

My husband likes to say he was our first fight as a married couple. I think that is true, but it has been almost 11 years now and time has blurred and faded my memory. The he I am referring to is that 1 lb ball of fur pictured above. I was a newly wed and really wanted a Yorkie puppy, and my husband was a newly wed that wanted more time with just me before venturing into the world of pets. But he loves me despite myself and bought me a $500 Yorkshire Terrier...wow that was a lot of money, it is a lot of money. I still can't believe he did it.

It took only a week for even my husband to fall in love with that little guy. He was a great dog, we named him Matty (short for "matrimony"). We took him everywhere we went and missed him when we were gone. It's a strange thing we do with animals, the way we nurture and love them. I used to put a little sweater on Matty before I would take him outside, he was just so small and would shiver while outdoors in the winter. My dad used to say "Amy, you know it's a dog, right?". Yes, I knew, but he was my dog and I loved loving him.

He was a good dog. He didn't really act like a dog. He didn't care for other animals (because deep down he didn't consider himself one), he never tore anything up, he never went to the bathroom in the house, he was just a good dog. He loved us well, and like my husband was reflecting yesterday, he loved us better than we loved him. Because what happens to all animals, happened to Matty....babies arrived. I remember my sister teasing after Ella was born that Matty must be singing to himself the song "Memories". Poor Matty. He used to curl up with me on the couch while I spent weeks on bed rest with my first pregnancy. He was loyal and his existence was comforting to me. He was a companion, a friend to have around in a time in my life when I didn't really have a lot of friends. But once our kids arrived, he went from top dog to watching our lives go by on the sidelines. It's natural I know, in fact, it's normal. Had it been the other way around, it would have been just wrong. He was a dog and I was a sleep deprived new mom, and my attention was focused on my child...as it should be.

So the years went by and more babies came, but Matty was still there. He was always there. He was always happy to see us, he always greeted us at the door, he always had a sweet kiss on the cheek for us, he was just always there. He loved our kids, though he preferred them as babies, and was always gentle and sweet. He used to play fetch on the beach for hours until he literally could not walk anymore. He loved the beach and he loved a ball. What a great dog he was.

Then he got sick. The doctors said they would have to do exploratory surgery to truly know what was wrong, we weren't willing to go to extreme measures and so we decided to just wait it out. Waiting it out turned into 2 years and just this week he grew even sicker. Walking became a struggle for him and by Sunday morning he could no longer walk at all. He was panting heavily and clearly struggling to live.

And so it was here. We took him outside to go to the bathroom and literally crows started circling around him overhead. How strange is that? It was salt in a wound, a bitter, sad ending. I ran outside and scooped him up quickly, threw my hands up to vultures circling their prey, and brought him inside for the last time. It was a tearful good-bye. My husband and I started feeling the heavy weight of guilt that was circling us like those crows were circling Matty. Guilt over not having treated him years ago for his sickness, guilt over waiting until now to put him down, guilt over caring so much about a dog when there are people in the world starving to death, guilt that now our girls were crying because they knew their dog was about to die, guilt that we didn't show him more attention over the last few years of his life, guilt, guilt, more guilt and then sadness.

I decided to stay with the kids while my husband took him to the vet. My husband had a few minutes with him before it was time to say good-bye and he said he gave him a few more chances to stand up, but there was nothing left, he had no more strength. So he held him and told him he loved him and that he had been a good dog. Though he did not deny an urge to tell them to stop right before it was over, he suppressed his urge and he felt his small heart stop beating. It was time, it was peaceful, and now it was over.

Death is a strange thing. It's strange because we were not created for it. We were not created to say good-bye. We were created to walk and live with our Creator. He is not the Creator of death, but the Creator of life...so for His created beings, death is hard. It is difficult to understand the concept that we are here one moment and then gone the next. But nonetheless, that is the world we live in.

We decided we needed to go to church that morning to get moving again, and I am so glad we did. Aside from a beautiful sermon of redemption, we were able to sit right behind a young woman who just weeks ago lost her husband. It was a very needed reality check and a sweet and kind way that Jesus quickly put things into perspective for us. It was so like my Jesus to be gentle and not condemning. I felt comforted for our small loss and then also tenderly guided to look beyond my small world and circumstance.

And so we move on. There are diapers to be changed and carpools to drive. Life carries on, though the sadness is still lingering. There are bigger issues in the world to turn our attention to, and we haven't lost sight of that. I hope you understand my words and hear me very plainly say that I am well aware that there are losses and struggles and crosses to bear that do not hold a candle to our sadness we feel now. I do not mean to be unsympathetic or self-centered in my reflections. It is what it is though, there was a sweet dog that our family had and loved for almost 11 years, and now he is gone, and we will miss him.

Disney: The high-lights, the low-lights, and the weird-lights

You know you are in for an exhausting week when your husband tells you and your children as you are entering the gates at Disney on day 1 to "get your game faces on". We had other pep talks along the way, like "only the weak fall behind" and "what do you think this is, vacation, pick up the pace". We ran everywhere and I don't really know why, no one else was running. We even left at home our little man because he would have slowed us down. We went with the sassy seamstress and her family, and I am quite certain it will be the last time they choose to vacation with us.



I highly recommend Disney this time of year. It was not all that crowded and the temperature topped out in the upper 70's most days. Below you will find some of our favorite moments... some awesome, some not so awesome and some that were just weird.


Like Epcot...the park itself is beautiful and I thoroughly enjoyed the sights.
The girls were afraid of Aladdin (and they are not afraid of anything)...but can you blame them? He almost didn't look human.

Loved the Tower of Terror. We could all ride, it was thrilling for everyone, and no one got off wounded with whiplash.

Loved the Lion King performance...all but this strange guy that stared at me throughout the entire performance and kept winking. At the point that I figured it couldn't get anymore awkward and weird, I just started taking his picture.

Oh the junk food we ate.

Okay, I just have to say a few things about the world of princesses in Disney World. I know that I am treading on thin ice with such a topic, as who doesn't adore the Disney Princess. Please know that I am right there with ya, I have always loved all the princesses. Let me repeat, I love them all and can only imagine that their job probably gets a little old at times; but I must say that some of them have developed a very unflattering demeanor of "snob" since I last visited them in Florida. Maybe it's the heat and the crowds...the combination of those two things can wear on the best of us; but Cinderella actually called out my Caroline on the red carpet for picking her nose. I do indeed understand that Caroline wasn't displaying her princess manners, and that Cinderella probably just didn't want Caroline to wipe something unpleasant on her dress. But seriously, need we call such negative, embarrassing attention to the child that has been anticipating this moment for days now? Miss High and Mighty Cinderella is lucky that Miss Caroline's Momma did not encourage her to use that lovely blue gown she was wearing as a tissue...and that's all I have to say about that. Did I go to far? Hate me if you must, just trying to keep it real.

Making wishes at the castle...

Wow, seriously Jasmine. I had no words then and I have no words now.

The fireworks were lovely...

There were a few sad moments...

But then Belle appeared to fix them....she was kinder than some of her other royal friends.

More highlights...

And then the finale, our favorite, Ariel. Though she was 12, she was a dream...kind, sweet, and totally worth the 35 minute wait.

Now we are back home and back to real life, on Friday we will be back to the house tour (the stalling has been due traveling, not laziness). We will look back at our foyer remodel that at one point had me climbing a ladder to our second story while 7 months pregnant.

See you then...