Three Thinking Things

Because I like to think. (And yes, I like alliteration too.)

Welcome to the first of what I hope will be a series of posts that will show up here whenever the mood strikes. (Hint: It often strikes on Monday mornings when I should be cleaning my house.) It's my chance to share some of the thought-provoking tidbits I've stumbled upon recently. Plus, that whole journalist-who-likes-to-tell-everyone-what-she-knows gene never seems to quit working. I guess this is just my chance to play reporter. Without worrying about ratings.

So here we go:

1. I will remember this story, called "Pearls before Breakfast," for the rest of my life, and I can't say that about many newspaper articles. It's lengthy but well worth the read. I guarantee it will make you think about how you live your day-to-day life. A quick tease (because I did work in the TV news business, after all, where it's all about the tease): What if one of the world's greatest violinists played a $4 million violin incognito during the morning rush hour at a train station? Would anyone care -- or even stop to notice? Would you?

2. I don't agree with the author of this article about many things. But I thought these paragraphs were spot-on:
Pro-lifers are often caricatured as stupid creationists who just want to put women back in their place. Science and free inquiry are supposed to help them get over their "love affair with the fetus." But science hasn't cooperated. Ultrasound has exposed the life in the womb to those of us who didn't want to see what abortion kills. The fetus is squirming, and so are we.
Critics complain that these bills seek to "bias," "coerce," and "guilt-trip" women. Come on. Women aren't too weak to face the truth. If you don't want to look at the video, you don't have to. But you should look at it, and so should the guy who got you pregnant, because the decision you're about to make is as grave as it gets.
3. G.K. Chesteron on divorce:
If Americans can be divorced for "incompatibility of temper" I cannot conceive why they are not all divorced. I have known many happy marriages, but never a compatible one. The whole aim of marriage is to fight through and survive the instant when incompatibility becomes unquestionable. For a man and a woman, as such, are incompatible.
(Big HT to Joe Carter at Evangelical Outpost, one of my favorite intellectual blogs, for these last two.)

Most likely, not all of my Three Thinking Things posts will be this serious. But hopefully, they will all get your gray matter engaged.

Leave me a comment if any of these items got you thinking. And feel free to share something that's made you stop and go hmmmm recently. My motto: My house may be dusty, but my brain won't be rusty!

(Yes, I love rhyming too. Watch out, Maya Angelou!)

My Purse

If a man empties his purse into his head, no one can take it from him.
- Benjamin Franklin

I know Benjamin Franklin had many wise and pithy sayings. But this ain't one of them. Because if I emptied my purse into my head, I wouldn't be able to find my keys or my thoughts. So not only would nothing would get done around my house, but we wouldn't be able to escape the insanity when the
"pew-pew" hits the fan. Or the hallway carpet. Whichever is closest.

But this post isn't about Ben Franklin. It's about my purse, my literal purse, which I am now going to share with you thanks to a Handbag Tag from my new friend Michelle over at Military Mommy.

I wish I could say I had an adorable bag like this to show you. But I don't. Because I am an official Dull Purse Person (TM). For Pete's sake, my husband actually demanded that I replace my purse this past fall because a. I only had one purse at the time, a brown backpack-like purse I purchased at Target around the same time our daughter was born, and b. it looked like crap.

So here is what I ended up with -- another brown purse!

Dramatic, no? Now the interior, which due to its lack of pockets I affectionately call The Black Hole.

Wondering what secrets are hidden within those depths? Why, I'm frightened glad you asked.

Glasses in red case which get worn infrequently; credit cards in black wallet which get used too frequently; keys; random hair paraphernalia; travel Kleenex; a pad of paper; Carmex; mints and gum because I am addicted enjoy coffee; keys; Purell hand sanitizer; sunglasses for me and the kids; a Shout wipe; a battered emery board; a Bible highlighter which I got at a Beth Moore conference last fall; two four-color pens so I can mark in said Bible; three other blue-ink pens, because I do not abide with black ink; and some white object I've been carrying around for months now that I've forgotten how to use.

Oh. And after I'd taken everything out of my purse?

Like stars in the inky night sky are the crumbs in the bottom of a mom's purse.

I'm tagging my new bloggy friends Shalee at Shalee's Diner and Lisa at The Preacher's Wife, as well as my real-life friends Mindy and Becky, although I'll understand if any of them pass on this particular tag, since having the stuffings of one's purse revealed to the world can make a girl feel rather exposed.

A New Life


It seems like many of my favorite bloggers are dealing with a loss right now. (And to be honest, it hasn't been a great spring for me either.)

So here's a little ying to the yang -- my best friend is having a baby today, and I'm SO EXCITED I can hardly stand it. She's being induced right now, about a week early, because her last baby (now three-year-old Trey) was over 10 pounds. And while it seems somewhat common these days to give birth to a 10-pound-or-more baby, it's still not right. Not. Right.

Sonjia has treasured every minute of this pregnancy -- both because it's her last and because she had a miscarriage last June. Every time I've seen her, she's fairly glowed with joy over this little life growing inside of her.

She's also driving me nuts because she's one of those precious people, bless her heart, who refuse to find out the gender of the baby before its born. Personally, I think there are enough surprises on delivery day to keep my adrenaline up for a month. (For example: How many stitches is it going to take this time?) I don't want to discover that I've secretly been wishing for a girl for 9.5 months right about the time the doctor announces, "Guess who looks just like Daddy!" Plus, the weeks after childbirth are not the best time to untangle an emotional knot, you know what I mean? There's already en
ough going on in the Land of Horomones.

And -- the biggest disappointment -- how can I buy adorable baby clothes for the coming newborn if I don't know whether to buy the cuddly bear overalls or the teeny flowered pants set?

So today is a big happy day for all of us. If you read this Tuesday, April 24, please pray for peace and joy for my friend Sonjia -- all the more considering they don't do epidurals at our hospital. (Don't get me started.) I'll update once we know the gender the statistics about the baby.

And start praying for my mental sanity now, as my sister called yesterday just to tell me that she doesn't think she'll find out the sex of her next baby either. Lord, have mercy!

UPDATE: It's a girl! I neglected to mention yesterday that Sonjia has two boys right now and, being very close to her own mother, she wanted a girl with a desperation too deep for words. She had convinced herself she was having a boy. But glory to His name, she now has a daughter -- Ahnnalie Marie, 8 pounds, 12 ounces, 22 inches. Here's a picture. And I'm heading back to the hospital to get me some more newborn lovin'.

Because That's What Weekends Are For

I know I promised a post about the media's handling of the Virginia Tech shooter last week. And I'm working on it, I promise! It's just that it's been in the low 80s here this weekend, and we put the boat in the lake, and I made Tex-mex enchiladas for dinner last night. *Sigh* I just don't have it in me to be serious and think deep thoughts.

Instead, here's a little video called "PC Frat Boys" I found via Chilihead at Don't Try This At Home. It made me giggle, because I had friends in college who would have written and performed this drama, had You Tube been around 13 years ago. (Wow. 13 years! I'm old.)

So have at it. Laugh. Rinse. Repeat. Hope you're having as great weekend too.

Nerds of the World, Unite!

Two posts I've read on some of my favorite blogs the last few weeks inspired this one. So if you want to get inside my head and find out "What was she thinking?!?" read this one from Amanda at Baby Bangs and play a little game called "Please Don't Laugh At Me." Then read this one from Big Mama that tells the story of how she discovered her inner nerd. (And if you really have time to snort today, be sure to read the comments for both posts. There are some talented and funny commenters out there. That's all I'm saying.)

And then, my sweet friends, take this hysterical quiz to discover your nerd type. Because -- come on -- if you're reading this blog, chances are good, you have an inner Screech.

As for me, I'm a Drama Nerd! (She says, flinging her cape over her shoulder, while her long, tangled tresses coast behind.)

What Be Your Nerd Type?
Your Result: Drama Nerd

You sure do love the spotlight and probably have a very out-going and loud personality. Or not. That's just a stereotype, of course. Participation in the theatre is something to be very proud of. Whether you have a great voice for musicals, or astounding skills for dramas/comedies; keep up the good work. We need more entertainment these days that isn't television and video games (not that these things are bad, necessarily.)

Social Nerd

Literature Nerd

Gamer/Computer Nerd

Science/Math Nerd


Artistic Nerd

Anime Nerd

What Be Your Nerd Type?

Go take the quiz yourself (and prepare to laugh; it's written so nerds will laugh) and then come back and share your inner nerd. I'll have pocket protectors and signed copies of "Star Trek's" first season to pass out to all the participants.

Now, if anyone would like to discuss the Christian themes running through "Matrix" or moan with me over the final season of "Stargate: SG1," I'll be in my dressing room.

The Four-Letter "S" Word

Here's a hint: It rhymes with "NOOOOOOOOO!"

That's right. We got SIX INCHES of white stuff on Wednesday.
I can only say, "Thank God it's April." Today, our yard is mostly snow-free, and God treated us to a gorgeous sunset last night. (This is the first of many sunset pictures to come, I'm afraid. We're moving from our lovely house sometime in the next few months, so I'll be wallowing in this view for as much time as I have left.)

Out of the Mouth of Mom

Has anyone but me noticed that multi-tasking doesn't always work?

Here's me, trying to finish up my devotions and get my kids bathed
at the same time.

"Natalie, go put your clothes on. Connor, go get in the Bible."

Easter Hope

My aunt Susan died one week ago today. Her body was being ravaged by cancer, and it finally succumbed to this noxious disease. She was only 54 -- an age which seems very young indeed, seeing as she was my father's little sister.

We traveled to Kansas last week for the funeral. My heart remains heavy. I'm sad for my Dad, for Susan's husband, for her two kids -- both of whom are planning a wedding in the next 12 months. At times like these, our paths can seem so very dark.

But today of all days, I am reminded -- The Light shines brilliantly in the midnight of the soul.

Hebrews 10:23 says, "Let us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering, for He who promised is faithful." The Message paraphrases, "Let's keep a firm grip on the promises that keep us going. He always keeps His word."

I love that last line. "He always keeps His word." And what has the Eternal God promised? That there is a place where we will see Susan's face again. That someday, death and disease will be no more. That Jesus' return from the grave -- which we celebrate today -- is our hope.

I was struck last week by the dichotomy of a funeral in the spring. It's an oxymoron, really. We were grieving the end of Susan's earthly years even as God breathed new life into the nature of the Kansas countryside around us. We stood around a cold and barren grave, while the grass glowed with vitality. We wore black; the flowers wore color. Our eyes clouded with tears; the sun sparkled with renewed vigor.

But the longer I reflected, the more it started to make sense to me. For believers in Jesus, death doesn't have any more power over us than winter has over the earth. It may reign for a while, with an icy grip and a bitter wind. But in the end, spring always wins. Always.

And that is the hope of Easter.