Ringtones

So, I have a Droid. And it's WAY cool. It's the ONLY thing I wanted for Christmas last year. And the Droid, itself, was not the expensive part - it's that monthly plan. The cost for Internet and Email. Yeah .... And can I just say that I love texting now!! So fun! And there are times when texting is better than calling. No phone ringing at inappropriate times.

Yesterday, I decided to change up some ringtones. My hubby's has always had AC/DC's "You Shook Me All Night Long." It's our song. Enough said. However, when he calls and I'm at school or in a meeting, and I've forgotten to silence the ringer .... em-bar-rassing!!! He's now got the theme to TOP GUN. Love that movie - the volleyball scene, "You've Lost that Lovin' Feeling." My best friend and I used to watch that movie all the time, singing that song in the car driving around. Good times.

My home phone number wasn't plugged into the phone - go figure. Usually, my hubby's at work or on his cell when he rings my cell phone. But the kids are now calling me, so HOME needs to be programmed in. And, it needed a special ring so I knew it was important. My brother has a ring that's like a alarm. But, I like the songs, the ringtones.

I found one, perfect for my kids. And whether or not you like the show Family Guy - this ring tone says it all. It's little Stewie going, "Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom. Momma. Momma. Momma. Momma. Momma. Mommy. Mommy. Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom. Ma. Ma. Ma."

Until his Mom gets so irritated, "WHAT?" and Stewie replies, "Hi," and runs away giggling.

So when you're with me and you hear this - you can laugh along with me.

Stains

Before he heads off for Reserve Duty, my hubby gives me a squeeze and a smooch goodbye - with standing orders to "be good for Mom." We'd had football games in the morning and I was pooped out. Dad left and I promptly curled up in bed. The kids played quietly. That should have been my first warning. Seriously, though - they are fantastic kids. They ask me for everything - and they did while I was semi-snoozing, too.

"Mom, can I have a yogurt?"

"Mom, can I play out front?"

"Mom, I'm going to shoot baskets?"

"Mom, where's my brother?"

So, I get some much needed rest and, to be honest, I could've laid in bed all day long. I rouse myself out of bed and head downstairs. Everyone's engaged and happy. Awesome! While I'm talking to the kids about what we should do, I see red on my oldest son's hands.

"What's this?" I ask. "Crystal Light. I spilled some," he replies.

"Must have been quite a spill - that's really red."

"Yeah."

Then I head to the kitchen and I see red residue on the counter. And on the wood floor. It's soaked in. It was never wiped up. I start spraying cleaner on it, all while loudly instructing him about how this stuff will stain.

I feel good about how I handled this. I didn't overreact. I didn't rant and rave. I instructed, I had him help clean. In my mind I'm saying, "Good Job, Mom!" The kids pile into the car to head out and as we walk out the door, I see it. The front porch. Has a large red stain on it. He spilled the Crystal Light on the cement stoop and it soaked into the cement.

That puffed up feeling I'd had, deflated quickly and I went into "punishment mode." He scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed some more, only to realize that this was a stain that wasn't coming out. He knew his Dad would be upset when he returned home and was getting distraught. And honestly, I wasn't helping the situation. I let him sweat it.

You see, he hadn't actually made the Crystal Light to drink, he'd emptied the little packet into a cylinder and mixed it with about two teaspoons of water. It was full strength STAIN! I was more than a little upset.

I decided to go on with the day as planned - no need to punish my younger children for his mistake. But when we got home, he got put to work. He scrubbed that stain with cleanser and bleach until it was gone. Then he had to power-wash the stoop. He cleaned out the car, stowed away all the winter gear in the attic, picked up dog poop, and put away all the tools we used for cleaning. Penance complete. Along with no TV.

I love that boy. He's so good. He took it all like a man. Never complaining. Never talking back. Thank you, God for giving me such awesome children made in your image. I hope I never let their stains really get in the way.

Changing Churches

Our family has attended the same church for the past nine years. I made my bestest friends there. I served there. I grew as a leader there. It's where I came to know Christ more fully. Yet, I felt a tug to move on - or at least try something new. So, our family has been attending a new (to us) church for the past four months. It's been good. Different, but good.

The pastor's message is current and relate-able, without losing any of God's truth. The music is LOUD. Really, really LOUD. To say it's contemporary is an understatement. It was a shocker the first Sunday we attended, but we've become accustomed to it. And the kids - that's the big worry - the kids like their Sunday school classes. They know some friends, are making new friends, and like their "big group" time and their lessons each week. They run to class - it's a joy to watch.

Yesterday, our family attended the church we'd attended for years to witness the joy of a friend's baptism. We had a lovely time with good friends in worship. The message was different than the new pastor - and the music felt like a step backward in time. We realized that one of the reasons we liked the church we were at before is because that's all we knew. Now, we know what else is out there ... and WOW!

As we talked about it last night, the kids are torn. They like both churches for different reasons - as do Mom and Dad. Is it time to decide to return or to move on? Where does God want us?

Uncomfortable

Uncomfortable.

This is not a word that brings me great joy. Not even a smidgen of joy. I think of a pain in my shoulder, a sliver in my finger, a sinus headache, tight shoes that have cut into the back of my ankle ... or a slew of other things. Uncomfortable is not what I aspire to. And it's definitely not what comes to mind when I think about God or Worship. Yet, I think this is where God wants us – at least some of the time. And I'm not just talking about physical discomfort.

When we are comfortable, operating in our "zone," we are not necessarily reaching beyond ourselves. We remain in a trusted circle of friends, family, places, or events where we find much gratification. We resist the unknown. Yet, when we test our bravery, being courageous enough to step outside our "bubble," great things happen. Now, I don’t mean great, as in better than good; I mean great as in awesome, powerful, or spectacular – those terms in their good and bad connotations.

When we step outside our safety zone, we lean on God more. Or maybe, we realize we need to lean on God, Period. Maybe we realize that we weren't leaning on God at all inside the bubble and doing it all on our own. When we venture beyond, we must trust that God holds us - that He gives us a “force field” to protect us. We must lean “not on our own understanding.”

Uncomfortable. That’s where God wants us – at least some of the time. Are you uncomfortable?

God's Whisper

I'm so thankful for the women who surround me with faithfulness and friendship. The other day, another mom called me to swap volunteer days at the school. No problem, except that I wasn't scheduled for another six weeks. Yet, she was looking at a schedule that had me listed for a day she wanted to swap. I told her I'd take her day and sort out the rest. I was just getting ready to fire off an email to the gal who coordinates it, when I realized it would be MUCH easier to explain it on the phone than write it out. Besides, I hadn't spoke with her in a while. So, I call.

"I've been meaning to call you, I really need a pick me up," she said.

"Huh? What are you talking about?"

"You always lift me up and encourage me and make me feel better."

"Awwww. Well, I'm glad I can do that for you."

We proceeded to make a date for coffee. My day went on .... laundry, shopping, bus stop ... then it dawned on me - that "glitch" in the volunteer schedule was God's whisper, "Stephanie, call her." And I'm so glad I did.