Don’t miss this!

Today I read a blog posting from one of my favorite bloggers, Pastor Ryan, who is not your typical pastor-guy.  It’s so good that I don’t want you to miss out on it.  It’s not very long, and it’s well worth the time it takes to read it.  Besides, the man takes great photos, so if you’re still of the mindset that you need your books to have pictures, this will be right up your alley. :)

Pastor Ryan on Religion

Conversations from the weird side

This conversation began in Instant Message, after Hannah sent me a photo she had taken.  I told her I wanted her to make me a new blog header with the photo.  The following is the conversation that ensued:

 

Hannah: Yeah, I’ll need dimensions, what you want it to say, color scheme and how many pictures you want in it

Sparky: okey doke

Sparky: I’m thinking cheezy dip will be a good one

Sparky: I like having ones to switch out now and again

Hannah: That’ll be fine. Just take a look through my archives and let me know. oh, and dokey*

Hannah: not doke

Hannah: doke is just a weird word

Sparky: doke is fine if it’s attached to okey

Hannah: No, its still a weird word

Hannah: it reminds me of fish.

Sparky: now THAT is weird

Hannah: No, there is logic. doke is like choke. choke makes me think artichoke, artichoke is fish

Hannah: arent you proud there is logic

Sparky: artichoke is a VEGETABLE, dorkarella!

 

There followed some real-life conversation, because of course the child was IMing me from the bathroom (don’t ask).  When she came into the room, it went like this:

 

Hannah:  How come nobody told me?  How come everyone let me think it was fish?

Sparky:  Nobody knew you thought it was fish!

Hannah: So what is the fish?

Sparky:  I have NO idea.

Hannah:  No, there’s a fish and it’s like “artichoke”…Oh!  I know!  Sardines!

 

Honestly, I have no idea.

Where’s Hallmark when you need it?

Sometime I sit and stare at a blank text box here on my blog, and I have no idea what to say.  Verbal constipation.  Take that as you will.

The weird thing is that all day long I think about things to write about, and then I sit down here and can’t remember a one of them.

Let’s see…maybe if I just randomly mention some things, I’ll get inspired.

-I’m reading a National Geographic article on polygamous marriage in the Fundamentalist Church of Latter Day Saints (FDLS).  I don’t know who’s nuttier: the women who are willing to share a man, or the man who’s willing to take on more than one woman.

-I’m pondering the concept of “passive belief”.  Is it possible?  Where is the power and authority in it?

-I was given another pair of shoes.  They are made by Keen and they are funny Mary Janes that make my feet look like Minnie Mouse feet.  They make me smile. 

-I have a lot of writing to do but I keep having “SQUIRREL!” moments.

-My cats are hilarious. 

-I would like a cream-filled donut from The Donut Hole.  I had my first one last week.  I am quite sure it will not be my last.  How have we lived here 13 years and I’ve never had a donut from there before?

-I painted my nails Chick Flick Cherry.  I am thinking that I’m done having naked nails for a while, though I may keep them short.  I miss having color on the ends of my fingers.

-I will begin following American Idol Season 9 here on my blog beginning with Hollywood Week.  You were probably wondering about that, huh?  I’ve been watching but I just don’t think there’s much to talk about until Hollywood week.  Thus far I am relieved that the drama factor hasn’t been ramped up by any Tatianas, Bikini Girls, or that whiny girlie-boy who made top 24 last year. 

Nope.  Don’t feel particularly inspired.

One thing that is inspiring is my brand new 20 year old!  Yesterday she was only 19.  Yup, she’s fresh off the presses and ready to grab life by the tail and go for a ride.  I really like that girl.  Happy Birthday, Hope!

But other than that I don’t have a lot of inspiration.  I think I’ll go play a few rounds of Bejeweled Blitz.  Maybe that’ll do the trick.  Or not.

After the aftershocks

The scenes from Haiti have been horrific since the earthquake on January 16th.  This country was a mess before the earthquake ever struck: failed government, environmental devastation, starvation, widespread poverty, a culture defined by receiving aid from others but never learning to fish for themselves.  And now this.

It’s a helpless feeling to watch it all go down.  And I find it frustrating that I can give money and it might feed a hungry person or buy some clothes for someone who’s lost everything, but in a few hours that person will be hungry again, and in not much longer the clothes will be dirty and stained and worn.  What do I do then?  Throwing money at the problem is clearly a bandaid over a gushing, gaping wound.

Enter one of my favorite missions ministries ever, a local ministry founded and run by people I personally know who operate with a high level of integrity and a heart to care for “the least of these”.   Heart of the Bride  has an orphanage in Haiti where the children are being raised up to be leaders and providers, an unknown concept in Haiti.  Heart of the Bride will be sending a container of food, clothing, and medical supplies to Haiti.  The supplies have been acquired and will be sent by private charter to an airport other than Port Au Prince.  What is needed is money to send the container.  Every $2 given sponsors a pound of desperately needed supplies.

There are other plans to help in Haiti, ones a bit less immediate which will help heal the wound instead of just sticking yet another bandaid on it.  The desire is to invest into the lives of some Haitians in a way that they then become leaders in their own communities and can begin to change the social and spiritual climate of their own country.  Haitians helping Haitians.  You can read more about it on the website, and if that’s not enough info, just call the office or send them an email.  They’re a personable bunch and would be glad to talk to you.

By the way, Haiti isn’t the only place where Heart of the Bride is changing lives.  There are exciting things happening in Africa, too, as well as the Ukraine.  Really…go check it out!  And maybe hit that “donate” button while you’re there.  Remember…your $2 investment is a pound of food for the hungry, clothing for the naked, and medicine for the sick.

www.heartofthebride.org

Better than a fish tale

I have to tell you a story.  It’s a great story about how God showed up and showed off for me, and it’s worth bragging on Him.

The Sparky bank account has been rather slim for some time now.  God has graciously kept us afloat, providing all we’ve needed, but we’ve needed to be careful about making any purchases that don’t fall in the “necessary” category.   One of the things I was trying to make last was my everyday brown loafers.  I’ve had them for three years and I wear them almost exclusively all autumn, winter, and spring.  They’ve been great shoes– my first pair of Born shoes, and they fit like a luscious glove from the moment I first put them on.  But after three years of that much wear they were looking pretty haggard.  Scuffed, stained, and the leather was wearing precariously thin over my little toes, and was nearly through on my left foot.  Worst of all, the support was shot in them.  My feet hurt a lot from wearing them. 

I began to pray, asking God for new shoes.  I wanted another pair of brown loafers, something I could wear with anything, and I wanted them to be very comfy and well made.  I actually began watching for these new shoes over a year ago, but I never found a  pair that was suitable at a time I could spare the cash, so I was still wearing the worn out Borns going into this winter, and was even plotting on how to make them get me through this season.  I bought inexpensive gel heel supports at the commissary.  That helped some.  I asked Mr Sparky if shoe polish might even out the scuffed and stained leather.  He said it might.  But I knew the leather wasn’t going to hold together much longer.  It was far too thin.

So I asked two friends of mine to agree in prayer with me over the new shoes.  I emailed them, and right after I did another friend called to report a stupendously wonderful fabulous incredible thing God did for her husband and their family.  I listened, and then  I admitted to my friend what I’d been praying about and told her how encouraged I was that if God would do such a wildly miraculous thing for them, that He’d certainly take care of me and my feet!  She giggled and told me that this all came from making cracks about that Christmas Shoes song (which I DETEST), and the conversation moved on. 

On Christmas Day there was a package under the tree for me.  It contained a pair of the most horrible shoes I’d ever seen in my life!  Five-inch clunker heels with three kinds of faux leather laced up the front, in size 11!  And nobody in my family was laying claim to being the giver of these, um, “Christmas Shoes”!  Then in the bottom of the box I found a note…and a very generous gift Visa.  The shoes were a joke (which was good, because they are definitely funny!), and the Visa was for a new pair of shoes.  It was from my friend who’d just had God show off for her family, and she had secretly enlisted one of the Sparkettes to help her surprise me.  I was blown away!  I knew that card would completely cover a really nice pair of shoes for me.  God had come through in an amazing way, providing money for shoes.  Now all He needed to do was provide the shoes! 

Last weekend I went to TN to visit a friend and we made our usual trip to DSW.  Even if we don’t buy anything, we have a load of fun trying on outrageous shoes off the clearance rack, so heading there was no-brainer for us.  I found a wonderful pair of Merrill slip-on shoes.  And it didn’t take up all the gift card, so I browsed the clearance rack and found a great little pair of black and gray Born slipper-ish shoes.  I have a pair of black loafers but they don’t fit well (as much as I like how they look) and so I avoid having to wear them.  I was so excited to think that the card might actually pay for TWO pairs of shoes!  And yet…I felt indecisive.  I loved both pairs of these shoes but I felt unsure.  My friend suggested checking another shoe store, just to be sure I had what I wanted.  I agreed and put the shoes behind the counter so I could come back for them when I didn’t find anything at the other store.

I’m sure God was rolling all over the floor of heaven at this point, laughing at me.  Because this is what I found at the other store:

Clogs by Hushpuppies

 

 T-straps by Born

Ankle boots by Aldo (aka my “Happy Boots”)

 

Loafers by Ecco

 

Funky Mary Janes by Naot

 

And the next day, these Merrills were given to me!

 

Six pairs of shoes.  Six.  One, two, three, four, five, SIX!!!   Six pairs of high-quality shoes in awesome styles, all for incredible prices, and yet God arranged that I wouldn’t pay one cent for them myself.  I have never had a pair of ankle boots, and I’ve not had a pair of Mary Janes since I was a little kid and my mom made me wear pinchy black patent leather Mary Janes to Sunday School.  My new ones don’t pinch at all, and they don’t reflect up, either, you pervy little Sunday School boys!

I asked for one…I got six. I was blessed, blessed, blessed, blessed, blessed, blessed!  I doubt my friend had any idea that her gift to me was going to be multiplied to quite that level of fruitfulness, and I hope she has been blessed to see what God did with her gift.

I have generous friends who love a generous God who loves to show off for His kids by giving exceedingly and abundantly more than we would ever dare ask or imagine.  Does it get any better than that?

“Is this a good thing?”

A letter arrived in the Sparky mailbox today, addressed to the 18-year-old Sparkette.  It was from the local college she where she just finished her first semester.

I called her in to get it and she came in looking concerned.  She opened it and read it, still looking concerned.

“It says I’m on the Dean’s List?” she said in a confused voice.

“Awesome!  Way to go!” I said, lifting my hand for a high five.

She slowly lifted her hand to mine, eyeing me suspiciously.

“Is…this…a good thing?” she asked.

“It’s a great thing!” I replied.  “It’s like being on the honor roll.  A high honor roll!”

“Oh!” She let out a deep breath, visibly relieved.  “I thought maybe I was in some sort of trouble!”

It may take a while for the Sparkette to get used to this new season in her life.  Good things are happening for her, and I’m really proud of her for persevering.

Overheard

Overheard in commissary:

Elderly woman to elderly man:  No, don’t buy that!

Elderly man: But you said you wanted vegetable oil, and this one is on sale.

Elderly woman: Yes, but look…this one says vegetable oil but if you read down here it says ” a blend of canola and corn oil”.  You don’t want canola oil.  That means “Canada oil”.  That’s what that stands for, and it’s not real oil.”

What the heck?!?

I didn’t have the heart to correct her.  Something tells me she wouldn’t have believed me anyway.

Poor baby

It’s been an interesting week in the neighborhood.  Or maybe just my house.

Eight days ago one of the Sparkettes started to complain her throat was hurting.  This particular Sparkette is known to have various complaints that usually just sort of work themselves out, so while I’m sympathetic to pain, I don’t get all worked up about it.  However, this sore throat ramped up fast.  And it was a big, bad sore throat, complete with angry red blistered tonsils swollen to enormous proportions.  Soon Sparkette was no longer just complaining…Sparkette was in tears and unable to swallow.  Before the whole thing was said and done, we ended up with two ER visits, a doctor’s office visit, and a trip to the hospital lab.  She endured a big ole shot in the booty, two strep tests (both negative), an oral dose of steroids, a liter of saline via IV, and IV dose of steroids, a shot of steroids, a Z-pack, a bottle of oral steroids, a full throat culture, and a blood draw that finally gave us the answer we needed but didn’t really want to hear: mono.

We were a bit surprised, considering none of the doctors really thought it was the culprit.  No enlarged spleen, no extreme fatigue, no fever.

She’s definitely tired now.  Low grade fevers come and go.  The sore throat with the swelling and blisters persists, and the poor girl finds herself hungry but unable to eat much due to the pain and the decreased swallowing space.  The cherry on the top of this nasty sundae is that she was supposed to start her second semester of college classes today.  Instead, she’s out of school until early next week, and even then she only goes back if the doctor gives her the ok.

I remember when she was tiny and she would get terrible ear infections.  After a dose of baby Tylenol there wasn’t much that could be done for her short of warm wash cloths to hold against her pained ears.  It’s a terrible thing when your baby cries and cries and you know they hurt and you just can’t do a thing to help them.

It’s no easier when they’re 18, either.

A new year

It’s New Year’s Day and I feel as if I should write something profound and philosophical to commemorate the occasion.  The fact is…I’m tired and rather blurry in the brain, so any attempts at Socratization would surely come out more Stoogified than anything.

My day started at 6:30am when Hannah came into my bedroom in tears because her throat was hurting so badly.  I had really hoped it would be better today but instead it was worse.  Though she went back to bed and I slept a little bit longer, I ended up hauling her to the base ER this morning, where the state of her throat promptly shocked the doctor into poking her butt full of some nasty thick antibiotic, delivered by a needle through which one could drink a milkshake.  Plus she gave her a tasty little dose of steroid syrup to choke down.  Nasty.  But…Hannah is feeling considerably better this evening, which is a relief.  Hannah was always my Tigger child, and even when she was a baby the only time I could hold her and cuddle with her was when she was sick.  It is never a happy thing to have a sad, mopey, pathetic Tigger, even when it’s nice to get to hold her for more than 4 seconds. 

I did accomplish something noteworthy today, however.  I went through 71 (yes, SEVEN ONE) old copies of Taste of Home, Quick Cooking, and Simply Delicious magazines (some as old as 2002)  and cut out the recipes I’m interested in, then I pitched the rest.  That’s a LOT of magazines!  I did it during the Capital One Bowl (LSU lost) and the Rose Bowl (Ohio State won).  I literally spent at least five hours doing that.  Now I don’t even want to think about recipes and magazines for a while.  At least until tomorrow.

It is 2010.  How weird.  When I was a kid it sounded so far away, and yet here it is.  I am hoping for many good things in 2010.  I am daring to ask God for impossible things for 2010.  I mean, why not?  He’s good at the impossible.

Meet Jake

Thanks to Hannah I finally have a couple of photos of Jake to share.

He’s just a little guy.  He has a very happy, waggy tail, but you can’t see it in this photo.

The folks at the adoption center figured him to be a rat terrier mix.  His build is so reminiscent of our greyhounds that we wonder if maybe there’s a bit of Italian greyhound in there too.  But who knows.  His make-up and past are a mystery.

He’s ready for his close-up, Mr. DeMille.

He’s really a sweet little guy, happy and bouncy.  He doesn’t bark a lot, but he does communicate through little chortles and yips and whimpers.  He’s still experiencing intermittent bouts of kitchenaphobia, but I’m suspecting it comes from trying to take the corner in the kitchen too fast and wiping out.  If you pick him up and set him on the other side of the corner, he trots off happily.  Or if Hannah is in there and he thinks he’s about to get left out of something, THEN he manages that corner just fine.  He’s got some quirks. 

Which is probably why he fits in here just fine.