Crazy Auntie Will Mow Down Thieves!

Somebody Stole my Auntie's Christmas Lights!!

Theft of tropical holiday display a deep personal loss for family

Leilani Sigeske is hoping for the return of Hawaiian-themed items she hoped would cheer up her Irvine neighborhood.

By SEAN EMERY

The Orange County Register

IRVINE – Leilani Sigeske had hoped her Hawaiian-themed holiday display would spread the good cheer the deeply personal decorations had brought to her darkest times.

But those hopes were dashed with the recent theft of several 6-foot tiki god statues, pink flamingos and plastic fish from the Sigeske's front lawn.

Now, the family is left wondering why a display meant to bring laughter in the midst of a dreary economic time became a target for thieves.

The Sigeske's have adorned the lawn of their Northwood home with what Leilani described as "silly" decorations for several years, but this season's display seemed to hit a chord with the neighbors, she said.

"This year really sucks for a lot of people and we really thought we were doing something good for the neighborhood," Sigeske said. "People actually came over with food thanking me for putting up the display."

Drawing heavily from her own Hawaiian heritage, Sigeske avoided the traditional "winter wonderland" themes of many holiday displays, instead creating a tropical paradise complete with palm trees swaying in the wind, lighted sea creatures, a fire-breathing dragon wearing a Santa hat, a Hula Girl and the ever-present tiki gods. Anchoring the display were signs reading "Mele Kalikimaka," Hawaiian for "Merry Christmas."

Many of the items, including those stolen, had an intensely personal connection for the Sigeskes. Bill bought them to cheer up Leilani, who suffers from Lupus, during several serious health scares.

"I was so sick, and he would come back home with this stupid item that made me laugh so much," Sigeske said. "They were in the family for years, and I would look at them and think about how I almost died. But no matter how bad I felt it always made me laugh."

The theft apparently took place during the evening hours of Dec. 19, Sigeske said. While no one got a look at the suspects, several neighbors reported hearing a truck pull up in front of the house.

Due to the size of the decorations, particularly the tiki gods, she believes several people must have taken part in the theft.

The family kept the rest of the display up for a week, hoping that the thieves would return the stolen items. But, nothing has yet been returned, and they plan to finally take down the rest of the tropical decorations this week.

Despite the setback, Sigeske vows that they will put the display back up next year, no matter what.

"I'm going to sit out there with a shotgun and mow down anything that slows down," she joked.

She also offered her own warning to the thieves about the karmic dangers of their actions.

"You do not take a tiki god, because it is bad luck. It is like sacrilegious in the Hawaiian culture," Sigeske said. "They should have taken anything else."

Anyone with information about the stolen items can call the Irvine police at 949-724-7000.

Compare and Despair

Was just checking my email - finally - and got one of those update letters that sounds like some sort of braggadocious "I'm almost as awesome as Mother Teresa" type deals:

"We're saving the souls of shop-a-holic desperate housewives;
We're rescuing all the dudes living in vans down by the river;
We're hand-quilting baby blankets made from used training pants and burlap coffee sacks and sending them to naked heathens in the tropics;
We're leaving tracts about Jesus in every public bathroom in our city;
In short, we are the wonder-children of our town and our mom has the bumper sticker to prove it!

Well, I am not doing any of that stuff but I did, in my shallow way, add red and blue streaks to my hair. I wonder if that counts as doing a good deed so that my stylist could afford Christmas presents? But seriously, I got depressed for a minute reading the "top 10 good deeds list" in that email. You know how it is - you start thinking that you've got to be a superstar too - next thing you know, you're face-down in a vat of red wine singing UB40 songs.

Then I came to my senses and thought, "Feeling like an inadequate failure in comparison to those guys is stupid. Now I'm going to go look at cupcake blogs and feel happy: Yay! Cupcakes!! so there."

I might even make some tomorrow and give a couple to a dude who lives in a van down by the river. Maybe I should throw in a bobble-head Jesus for his dashboard and one of those "Christian" t-shirts, like the orange one that says, "Jesus' Pieces".

All I know is that if my cupcakes don't turn out like the pictures in my cookbook I am really going to be pissed.

Christmas Music: CENSORED!!

Oh boy! It's December and time for the annual slide down into holiday insanity. I am one of those geeks who listens to the all-Christmas-music radio station and I have a few tips as to how to make the holiday season better:

No really, I can't even tell you how much better radio would be without these songs:

* Same Old Lang Syne" by: Dan Fogelberg - You know the one:
"Met my old lover in the grocery store
The snow was falling Christmas Eve
I stole behind her in the frozen foods
And I touched her on the sleeve..."

In my opinion this song should never be played again. It should be given a closed-casket ceremony and laid to eternal rest.

* Absolutely no Mannheim Steamroller. None. That cheesy synthesizer music belongs in a pink padded cell in the 70's, 80's, 90's and so forth.

* "Where Are You Christmas?" This song is OK when Cindy Lou Who sings it on the Grinch but when that grown lady sings it (you know who you are, Faith Hill) it's like, "SHUT UP and get some freakin' prozac already, woman!!"

* This is more of a personal preference but can we limit the number of Beach Boys tunes that are being played?

* Don't forget about WHAM!: George Michael belting out "Last Christmas I gave her my heart..." Spare us. Keep a blog instead, dude.

No offense Delilah and John Tesh but I'm just gonna have to change the station when that stuff is being played. I can't afford to up the dosage on my meds so turn that racket down!
Love your show!

Delilah, that is.

John, "qwerty tummy?" For reals?

Top 10 Reasons to Become a VEGAN

1. No more handling raw meat! YAY!

2. Losing weight. (so I hear!)

3. It can get your blood sugar levels back to normal and reduce high
cholesterol, to mention a few health benefits.

4. You get to try out a whole bunch of yummy new recipes.

5. You get to use all kinds of weird food items that you've never used before:
kombu, mellow miso paste, kudzu, egg replacer, nori, tempeh, amaranth,
shoyu, mochi, tamari paste... oh boy!

6. You get to eat salad and bread for breakfast when you forget to bring your
own darn food when eating out.

7. People admire your dedication and tenacity (secretly they think you are
whacked!).

8. Did I mention the hummus is homemade? More beans?

9. The rest of your family gets food poisoning from bad burritos and you don't.
(if only you could get off barf clean-up duty!)

10. It's subversive. I'm all about that!

Gone for summer vacation -
see ya when the weather gets cold again!!!

Sticks and Stones

Today I was thinking about how Jesus called the religious nutballs some pretty harsh names: brood of vipers, hypocrites, white-washed sepulchers (fancy mausoleums full of smelly rotten corpses; in other words, you look good on the outside but inside you are putrefied). I had to laugh when I thought about the names Jesus called people. He didn't say they were like vipers He said they were vipers. Remember, snakes were associated with e-vil. In modern day SNL speak Jesus might sound like Mike Myers calling someone the dev-il.

All of this got me thinking: we are supposed to be imitators of Christ. So when do we get to start calling people names like He did? Mark Driscoll rips on people who talk about Jesus like He was some lily-livered diaper-wearing pansy. For sure, those pale-skinned blue-eyed Jesus pictures are retarded.

I'm not going anywhere with this train of thought. No "Deep Thoughts" here. Just don't be surprised if I jump up on a chair someday and tell it like it is to a few folks.

So git yer ugly, yella, no-good kiester off my property before I pump yer guts full of lead!!

Woof

Finally the barf-fest is over and the subsequent cough and cold-fest!

For some crazy reason we decided to adopt a stray dog. Of all the oddball breeds he is a Redbone Coonhound like the dogs in Where the Red Fern Grows. He is a friendly and easy going dog but he can't seem to understand that defecation on the carpet is unacceptable. Back to that putrescence word, eh? He also chews through leashes and other stuff in a matter of seconds. I've been working with him on doggie obedience. We are training him with voice commands as well as hand signs. The other night when it was bedtime for the little girls I gave my two-year old the command and hand sign for "lie down". She followed suit. Awesome!! So, in order to make my life less stressful I will be training all three of them the same way. Who says you can't teach little kids new tricks?! Whining? No problem! Do you three want to go out in the kennel/dog run or would you like to play dead? Bored? You can either go play ball or chew on some rawhide. Don't want to relieve yourself in the right place? I suggest that you don't urinate where you sleep. Want to sleep in my bed? No way! It's your bed or the floor! See, it's all about keeping the choices simple.

Now I gotta go replace the Gentle Leader head collar that he chewed up.
I'll try to get a photo of him to post soon. He is very cute even if he is dumber than a box of hair.

Queen of Refuse

This place is brimming in vomit and other forms of nastiness. The washer has been going for days though I am doubtful of its germ warfare capabilities.
Of course I have the dread illness as does everyone else in the house. It really ticks me off because I still have to drag my sorry carcass around the house cleaning up all the ka-ka. It’s like battling the R.O.U.S.es in the Fire Swamp.

Meanwhile, the other adult in the house gets to go back to work in the outer world where he is expected neither to wipe people’s butts nor clean the privy after they are done using it. All this while I am trying to cram in a self-directed study of Early Childhood Education, Phonics, Classical Education & How to Keep the Home Organized While Teaching at Home. There have been moments when I’ve thought that what I’m doing at home as a mother is not important. (Shame on me!) Now that I am finally beginning to catch my stride I challenge anyone to get their regular job done and manage children at the same time. (Unless they are a teacher) I don’t have a personal assistant. I don’t have a bookkeeper or a management team. I don’t even have a team of volunteers. I do have some help with house cleaning and that was a step in the right direction.

Sometimes you just need an epic tale to lift your spirits and remind you that there are worse things out there than copious amounts of puke and potty chairs filled with stinky goo. There’s no shortage of worse things out there as we all know.

So I am finding inspiration from an old classic: The Princess Bride.

Nestled among its clever script are such gems as:

“Life is pain. Anyone who says otherwise is selling something.”

“Get some rest. After all, if you don’t have your health, you don’t have anything.”

“So Bow to her… Bow to the queen of slime, the queen of rubbish, the queen of putrescence…”

Voting, Schmoting: Who to Vote For & Why

Some of need a little help when it comes to voting. For instance, many people do not have time to listen to all the political speeches or to do research on every candidate. Further, how can we be sure that what we are reading is accurate? We know that every candidate has speech-writers and spin-doctors. This makes it very difficult to separate truth from fiction. So, I've decided to help everyone out by telling you who I am voting for and why. If you want to vote for this person, I guarantee that if he gets into office he will not mess things up any more than they already are. In fact, I feel quite certain that things will improve under his direction.

What I want in a leader is: Integrity, Wisdom, Maturity, Experience, Compassion, Love, Strength & Humor. (sounds like an ad for e-harmony) While this is not an exhaustive list, these are the most important qualities.

I happen to know two men who fit the bill. Either one of them will do a cracker-jack job of running this country which is more than I can say for any of the current candidates. These men possess all of the above character traits as individuals. If one could be President, and the other Vice President, that would be even better. Between the two of them, one has served our country in the military; the other has vast experience overseas and is fluent in several languages. One has run several successful businesses of his own. The other has served in high-ranking positions within the organization that he works under. Both have spent time teaching and counseling. Both men are respected within their communities and have put in hours of volunteer work with people of all ages. Both men are straightforward and honest. Both are adept at managing conflict and mediation. Both are highly intelligent, self-motivated, hard-working individuals.

In short, I believe that we should all vote for these two men. You can write it in on your ballot:

VOTE FOR DAD!

SMACKDOWN!

My kid hit her teacher a couple days ago.
Smacked her.

I'm not gonna lie to you - I was fairly dismayed when the "Children's Director" pulled me aside to inform me of my child's misdeed. (I go to a non denominational Bible study where they have a children's program)

Now, I have not gone out of my way to give people the whole low-down on being a pastor's wife - and I think all of you know by now how I feel about that whole issue. So it wouldn't surprise me if someone had a few snarky things to say about the hellions on wheels that PK's (pastor's kids) can be. **I love it! Do you see that?! They are called pastor's kids, not pastor's wives kids! what a delightful discovery just now!**

Well, I've been a goody-two-shoes PK and a hellacious MK (missionary kid) and I can tell you that it only gets worse in proportion to the amount of preachy religious people that a kid has to put up with but doesn't know enough to tune them out. A few of my pals and I took to chain smoking down by the river (literally) although not in a van as in Chris Farley's SNL skit. (Having the van would’ve made all the difference!) We also took to writing heinous poems about hell and suicide. That was some of my very worst writing. How original is the F--- word after its fiftieth time in verse? I know, I know, the angst of it all.

This was not the first time that my child has created a disturbance in her class but it was the first time that she hit someone. Apparently it's "the first time this had ever happened" (that a kid hit a teacher there). I'm wondering if that should go in the scrapbook under "Firsts"?
Since it was a first, the nice director lady asked,
"What do you want us to do?"

You're asking me??

"Enforce some consequences? Like a time-out?" I ventured, uncertain if this was her polite way of saying, "We're not sure we want your kid here."

Spank her in front of the whole class? (That actually happened to me and now I cannot do math as a result)
Smack her back?

So, being the decent parent that I am, I had a good chat with the child, asking her what happened and what she could have done differently and how did she think the teacher felt about being hit and was she ready to apologize? I also mentioned that being mad doesn't give her the right to hurt people or misbehave. She felt badly about it and apologized to the teacher. Later we talked about things some more and she said that she hit the teacher because she didn't want to be there. I informed her that not being there wasn't one of her options and that she was going to have to find a way to make it work. Far be it from me to allow my child to think she can dis authority figures even if I may not agree with their methodology. I was a pathetic people pleaser as a child so I am relieved to have a child who stands up for herself and speaks her mind even though it comes across poorly at the age of 4 3/4. She is no pushover with children or adults and that is a good thing so long as it can be properly channeled.

I told her Dad what happened and he laughed, not surprisingly, since he is the type who cheers for the underdog. He said that he hit his 1st grade teacher.
Only she smacked him back.

Bubbicious

Getting away from the Christian bubble is so liberating. I have to say, I hope never to return to said place except for brief visits to those still inside. I don't belong there anymore and every step I've taken to get out has opened up more and more freedom. There are so many things that bubble-dwellers make issues of that simply do not matter outside of the bubble. Now that I am out I find it amazingly depressing how bound up I felt in there and how little interest I had in anyone's life who was "on the outside". I say "depressing" because there are so many who are still stuck in there struggling with the same things that I struggled with. Wow, did I have my head in the sand, to use a well-worn cliche. I have been doing better. I am still struggling on and off with depression but also sensing that it's hold has been progressively lessening. Even now I don't know all of the causes but I think there have been a myriad of factors involved which seems reasonable to me.

Having unrealistic expectations has been one of the causes; both my own and those belonging to others. When we first jumped into this venture some one who goes to our former church was talking with me and informed me that "being a senior pastor's wife is a lot different than being a high school pastor's wife" (not that this person had been either one, ironically) Anyway, this person's near-lecture seemed to be more about keeping up appearances that about caring for others. Nonetheless, it was like a bitter pill that gets lodged in the throat and did nothing to arm me for what was to come. I allowed myself to fall into a trap of being anxious about those type of things for quite some time after our arrival in our new town: Will people think I'm a good parent even though I scream at my kids sometimes? What if I don't know how to help this person who is in front of me? What if someone I know sees me drinking a glass of wine with dinner? And on and on it went. The truth is, the person who said all that stuff to me is a fearful person who hasn't been able to let go of unrealistic expectations when it comes to "being in leadership". I am a real person with real issues and I'll be danged if I am going to suffer alone in those. At a team meeting I went off about something that is an issue in my life and just being able to admit that I can be a jerk about some things is a good thing for me because I have spent my whole life trying to be good and hiding all my stuff because I thought I was supposed to be this spiritually mature person. I tried to make that happen in my life by following all those asinine how-to steps that people fueling the Christian machine like to pump out. You know, like "Five Steps to Knowing God Better" and other stupid sermon or book titles. How about a sermon titled "Keeping Up Appearances and other Horse s---"?!

I went from pastor's kid to missionary kid and it only went from bad to worse because it seemed like the stakes kept getting higher. Now here I am, a "senior pastor's wife" (gag me, like, totally with that title) and if I can't be authentic than I don't want to be at all. I couldn't take the whole stupid leadership persona any more - it was killing me. I don't have all the answers and there is no one who does. As for being in leadership, we are equally important in the "body". Leaders only exist to help bring continuity to what is going on within the body and to help facilitate spiritual growth. There is nothing special about leaders beyond that. I have been doing well, l and feel more like a real person than I have in years.

Now more than ever I think that delving into one's doubts is the best place to begin when it comes to one's faith. If I don't ask the hard questions then how will my faith ever be called into account? Blind faith seems illogical to me. Even Jesus said to count the cost before choosing to follow Him. That, to me, says that He knows we have questions as well as brains. He wasn't some cheese-ball salesman so why should we behave that way when it comes to our faith?

There are plenty of Christians who get really irritated by those who express doubts and tend to offer reproach. It seems like a lot of these people are motivated by fear - perhaps because their own faith has never been called into account. It's easier just to follow a formulaic approach than it is to ask whether or not God is real and if He's worth following. Is He worth following? Only if He is real. How do I know He is real? I keep asking Him to reveal Himself to me. How will I reach the maturity level of the apostle Paul unless I am first convinced that God is real? It isn't possible! Paul staked his life on the fact that he knew God was real. Paul had a personal experience with Christ that changed his entire outlook.
Sure, people might ask, "Well how long are you going to keep asking if God is real; at some point you just have to believe!!"
"I will keep asking God as long as it takes." That is my response.
No, I don't have to just believe. That is foolish and naive. People who "just believe" are people who join pyramid schemes and cults and drink the Kool-Aid given to them. God is OK with me asking questions in order to try to gain more understanding. It's like a four-year old who is constantly asking, "Why?" Four-year olds don't ask questions to be annoying, they ask questions because they want to understand the world around them and to understand their place in that world. Do we expect a four-year old to know how to drive a car? No, we expect that they barely know how to wipe themselves after using the toilet. The difference is, most four-year olds do not have a problem admitting that they need help wiping whereas many of us would like to pretend that we possess the skill when, in fact, we need help wiping also. At some point there are the inevitable skid-marks on the ole under-roos and the evidence of our inability is undeniable.

Pride, fear, pretense, self-absorption, lusts, contempt - these are the spiritual silicone parts that we add on until our true selves become unrecognizable. They become the ties that bind. "Therefore... let us lay aside every weight, and the sin which so easily ensnares us, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking unto Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith, who for the joy that was set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame, and has sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. ....Therefore strengthen the hands which hang down, and the feeble knees, and make straight paths for your feet, so that what is lame may not be dislocated, but rather be healed. " (Hebrews 12:1,2,12)

I want to see the bubble filled with that kind of wisdom; especially my own bubble.

light.

"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate, our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, 'Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented and fabulous?' Actually, who are you not to be?"
–Nelson Mandela


It's easy to be "nobody". I struggle with nobody-ness all the time because I am afraid of the ramifications and responsibilities of being somebody. I want to know my true self; the self that God created me to be. And then I want to be that person. I suppose it is my mistake to think that is a destination where I can arrive... someday.

What am I passionate about? What are my strengths? What are my talents and gifts? What is the life that I hope to create?

There are a lot of things that I want to do but the real question is: Who do I want to be?

What is the light that frightens me? What will happen if I embrace it?

Happy Hour

It's Valentine's Day already. Seriously, I live on Hawaiian Time but it doesn't seem to matter because Regular-People-Time just keeps flying by. Why can't I just hang loose while the rest of my countrymen scurry around like rats on a wheel? Who needs all the stupid deadlines and timetables anyway? Once I am stopped up in an urn I'm not gonna care that I made it to the church on time or anywhere else for that matter. I mean, who eulogizes about how dear Josephine was the most punctual person she'd ever met and it really touched her how on-time Josephine always was? Really now. Old Josephine was a real stickler about being punctual. That is the wry truth that everyone will bemoan. Secretly they are all glad that the old nag is pushing up daisies because now she can't make them all feel harried and rushed and guilt-ridden.

Every time I go to write a serious post on here I am seized by boredom of all such things. I don't want to yammer on and on about faith, churchy stuff and depression. Sometimes I feel like I eat, breathe and sleep such things and I will scream if I have to hear another dumb conversation about it. For Pete's sake, just live it already or shut-up. What good is empty philosophy to the rest of us? It's like my friend's friend who claims self-absorption like it's a disease that he, or she, catches from time to time.
"Duh...sorry I haven't called in, like, a month... I caught a bad case of self-absorption and couldn't make it to the phone..." The funny thing is, I've been there. It's so dang easy to live in a microcosm of self. I had to laugh when I heard the charming yet idiotic message that this person left on my friend's phone about the whole thing.

I think I am going to start another blog about the more humorous things in life. We could all use a little more humor, right?

So what's humorous right now? Well, for starters my two-year old looks like a Kewpie doll. That's funny.

Another funny sight is my four-year old wearing only tights and a turtleneck: the crotch on the tights is sagging way down by her knees. Plus she is wiping snot on her sleeve. I wish I could get away with such things.

Thirdly, some girlfriend's and I went out for Happy Hour and they were regaled with tales about the truth about childbirth and it's after effects by the two of us who've been through it. Can anyone say, "Oops, I crapped my pants?" (a skit from SNL) with a straight face? It's probably funnier after a few sips of a beverage. (It doesn't take much, trust me)

The fact that I'm even writing any of this is funny because there is probably someone out there who doesn't think it's funny at all and they are going to blow the alleged whistle on me. That's funny.

"You be an optimist, I'll be a realist!"

"No pessimist ever discovered the secret of the stars or sailed an uncharted land, or opened a new doorway for the human spirit."

~ Helen Keller

Yeah so I said that I was going to get back to where I am with J.C. and still haven't. I will, I will, just not today. We don't even have our tree decorated for Pete's sake.

A friend posted something funny so I thought I would relay it to you. There is a website called despair.com, which does not surprise me considering the Gen X perpetual state of angst - rage against the machine, stick it to the man - not to mention the turmoil that the world is in nowadays. My fave so far is the mug that reads, "this glass is now half-empty". Suh-weet! Maybe I will get myself one except that I have enough junk already and that in and of itself causes me to despair.

I hate that stupid glass half-full analogy with a passion. The glass is half-full? Who says that? No one that I know! Not unless they read Norman Vincent Peale, Zig Ziglar, Robert Schuller and listen to their tapes. kooky. Your head is half-full is what I'd like to say! I'd tell you what else is half-full but I am a lady so I won't mention it here. (whatever that means!) My diaper pail is half-full, does that count? It reeks enough to be all the way full.

Now that I am on "serious drugs" as my Auntie Leilani likes to call her meds, I'm thinking that I shall become one of those dang Pollyanna types. ha ha ha I love Pollyanna though. She is a cool kid. My friend likes to tease me by saying that I am the crabby hypochondriac woman on Pollyanna who told Pollyanna that she was an impertinent child. This friend of mine can be a little obnoxious at times, as you can see, and I am not being negative, I am merely telling the truth. I love him anyway so that proves that I have a positive side. ha ha

In closing, I offer that whoever can tell me who said, "You be an optimist, I'll be a realist!" will win a prize. Maybe I'll send you a half-empty mug. Just tell me what you want it half-full of.

Not A Moment Too Soon!

I know I left ya hanging and still have not been able to encapsulate my thoughts to write a decent post.

It's snowing outside! I love to watch snow falling; it's very soothing. I am rocking in my chair, needing the peacefulness of the setting. I hear Eeyore in the background, "I could use an umbrella to keep the snow off my house - not that it matters if I don't get one." My mental state, summed up by Eeyore's bleak outlook! After nearly two years of debilitating depression I finally asked my medical professional for anti-depressants, a move that I was sore afraid to make. But when a friend intervened, saying," This is me stamping my foot: I want you to call the Dr., and I want you to do it by Tuesday because I'm going to ask you to make sure that you've done it!" Well, I could hardly refuse without getting drop-kicked into the Dr's office so I made the phone call.
Another friend emails, urging me to call an acquaintance who is a counselor. My friend hopes that I don't mind her being bossy. Au contraire, it's high time that some steps toward progress were taken!
I will say, so far so good. The meds are working already; hopefully getting my thinking realigned will soon follow. It's true what they say about being able to take life on once the medication begins helping. It's amazing how hopeless a person can become when mired in deep depression.

Who knows?! I may even get some Christmas cards sent out to more than 20 people this year!

Radio Silence

We apologize for the temporary lapse in our regular programming... the station seems to be experiencing technical difficulties... Please standby until further notice... Possible snowstorm and icy road conditions...

Lip Balm?

It seems that I have made the transition from being "Pastor's Wife Barbie" to being a "Chatty-Cathy Doll". You know how it is - we go through those giant pendulum swings as we're working things out in our lives. I know there will be a middle ground one of these days.

We've been facing a tremendous amount of discouragement lately and it's been coming at us from many directions. I think that last Thurs. night was one of of our darkest. You know it's bad when not just one, but both of us, are discouraged at the same time. Yeah, not so good. We must have spent at least an hour last night praying: yelling at God; pleading with God; asking Him WHY?! and WHAT?! and WHO?! and most of all, HELP!?! HELP!! NO, REALLY, HELP!?! On that note, we went to bed.

At 7:30 AM, the phone rang and there was John B. - the head of the church-planting organization that we are under - speaking word after word of encouragement. Let me tell you, we were so parched that it felt like someone giving us water after we'd been dumped in the in the desert - much unlike Chevy Chase's character in The Three Amigos who only offered, "Lip balm?"

I feel like a cat in a bag these days, panic-stricken, pawing around in there trying to find the way out. When I was a kid, my sister and I slept downstairs on the hide-a-way bed, in our sleeping bags, due to the high wasp population upstairs in our rooms. We had these army surplus sleeping bags that were practically airtight. One night we were goofing around and I hid in the bottom of my bag and the opening of the bag somehow got folded underneath me. At first I just sort of felt my way around to get out but when I couldn't find the opening I began to panic. My super military quality sleeping bag did not have one of those little air holes in the bottom by the zipper - it zipped all the way to the end. And it was getting hot in there. It was stiflingly hot and I was freaking out. I was old enough to have some notions as to suffocation and death so I started yelling for help.
"Get me out of here! I can't get out! I'm stuck in here! Somebody please! I'm gonna suffocate to death! HELP!!!!" Finally one of my parents came and untangled the sleeping bag so that I could get out. My sister must have slept through it all or was too little to know how to help.

The remembrance of the sleeping bag distress came to me the other day because it parallels my life. In the past year and a half I've been realizing that I'm stuck in the bag and can't find my own way out. As I've reevaluated my priorities lately it's become apparent that I've run out of my own resources to excel within the various roles of my life. All of those roles, not just one or two of them. I can't magically make myself communicate better or resolve conflict more effectively; or parent with grace and humor that I do not possess. I need help finding my way out of the bag. Most of us come to these places in our lives sooner or later and it's very humbling. I happen to be a person who is very motivated to change, grow, and deal with things even though I also happen to be a person who struggles against high levels of negativity and perfectionism.

I can't run out on my family as much as I want to some days because I feel like a failure. I am not a failure but I get sucked into believing that when I have mere moments of failure. (Who knew?! I'm not perfect?!?) I am reminded that idols come in many forms and that many of us have some ugly gargoyles named "Feelings" that sit enshrined in special alcoves; we scrape and bow to them all throughout the day and we lend them the power to control our minds and actions, and we give them permission to set the mood in our very environments. Are we gonna do anything about it? If we need help will we ask for help? Will we admit that these are gods that we have brought into power - not someone else's gods?

For me, I have to seek the help I need so that I am equipped to make the changes that I need to make. In that I also have to differentiate between who is offering lip balm and who is offering water - on so many levels. It was not likely that I would die of suffocation in my sleeping bag and it's not likely now that I won't find my way out of whatever this is with some help - if I am willing to receive it, that is.

Next time, the latest on where Jesus and I are in all of this.

Here's to Handel - and My Life Coach

So, I spoke with my personal Life Coach and she told me to quit being a martyr and to quit being involved in children's ministry. (Strains of the Hallelujah Chorus are playing in background) I picture Jeremy Piven (the actor) characteristically holding his head in his hands, looking up at John Cusack and shouting, "Man, you're like my oracle and s---!" (From the movie Serendipity) This is what this friend is to me, an oracle. We are that for each other - we are both oracles. My other "processing" friend is a healer. I'm into those old world terms lately.

Anyway, she walked me through a very logical process to find out who I really am and what I'm really called to. It boiled down to this: I am a Christ-follower, a wife, a mother, a homemaker, and when needed, a friend/relative. That's it. I am not called to anything else; I have no other openings at the current time, including children's ministry. (Again with the Hallelujah Chorus...) These are the specific things that I am called to at present. She asked me why I was trying to add more responsibilities beyond the ones God has already called me to. She told me that the things God has called me to are the same things forming the lens that I need to filter life's other stuff through: "If I add X,Y,Z is it going to make me a better wife, mother or homemaker? Will it fit anywhere into the existing picture without causing harm in those areas?"

It's amazing how a paradigm shift can create some breathing room. She may not realize it but I feel like she rolled a giant oxygen tank up into my space and now I am getting my color back. It makes me cry just thinking about it. She said a bunch of other stuff about boundaries and not being a whiner, and to you-know-where with the whole "pastor's wife" crap, as only a friend who really loves you can say.

Later that night I read some powerful words that a wise man said to his son, Ralph Moody, nearly a hundred years ago:

"You know, a man's life is a lot like a boat. If he keeps his sail set right it doesn't make too much difference which way the wind blows or which way the current flows. If he knows where he wants to go and keeps his sail trimmed carefully he'll come into the right port. But if he forgets to watch his sail till the current catches him broadside he's pretty apt to smash up on the rocks."

All I know is that I had a mouthful of gritty sand and that I was a long way off the course. Once I got my little boat off the rocks and back on course it was very apparent to me just how far off the course I had been. My boat must have been careening willy-nilly all over the lake, crashing into other water craft, dragging bottom across rocks and who knows what else.

As I focused my myopic eyes looking through my newfound lens I was disheartened to see the level of neglect in my "wifering", mothering and "householdering". Good thing I am married to a strong and independent individual with a sense of humor because he seems the most intact of the three.

As for the children, where is Nanny McPhee when you need her? It's like the children who live in our home have either lost their hearing a.k.a. Helen Keller's difficult early years; or they no longer speak English - seriously, "Do you not understand the words that are coming out of my mouth?!?" as Chris Rock hollered at Jackie Chan. It is also possible that they have become characters from the book "Lord of the Flies". Because of my sailboat detours, this week at our house has been Baby Boot Camp only I don't get to cuss anyone out or call them derogatory names to make them feel like certain kinds of ants. There is no barking, "Drop down and give me 50!!" You know, that would be waay easier than trying to discipline in love - hopefully including patience - along with the giving of encouraging words while trying to keep the lectures and yelling to a minimum (that's where the duct tape across my mouth comes in). The poor little tykes have needed a lot more direction than I had been giving them and it's been a long week for all of us. Those drill sergeants don't even know the meaning of boot camp. I now understand the words, "This hurts me more than it hurts you."

As for the home, it looks like a bunch of hogs live here - not that it's a new look or anything - but now I feel like I have permission to focus on some care and keeping of it instead of the bunch of frenetic add-on activities that I usually succumb to.

And last but not least, the following of Jesus. Well, we're working things out. I felt emboldened enough to asked Him the same question his cousin, John the Baptist, once asked of Him, and you'd think John would know his own cousin better than this, "Are you the Christ or should we look for another?"
True to form Jesus reminded me of His miraculous signs from then and now and asked,
"Who do you say that I am?"
So that's where He and I are at but that's a post for another late night.

Twist of Lemon with That?

I wish I could say that I am the quintessential pastor's wife who is full of wisdom and grace and able to singlehandedly create - and lead - amazing ministries out of the miry clay. The truth lately is that I spend more time in the miry clay than I do outside of it.

I'm not gonna lie to you, my faith is on the rocks. Too bad "faith on the rocks" does not contain alcohol because at least that would numb my senses. It's not because of the miscarriage - I actually felt this way before that happened, although experiencing that loss did not help. Depression, compounded by grief, compounded by the relentless pressures of the church plant, compounded by emotional unhealth: in case you were wanting the recipe for the drink. If you mix it correctly it should come out in a perfect Barbie doll pink.

Basically my spiritual life isn't amazingly great and I don't want a bunch of moronic Christianese cliches as to how to "get back on track". I'm not off the track. I still think God is real but I am extremely frustrated with all of this crap and the feeling that I am missing something spiritually. The cliches only serve to infuriate me anyway. If there was a punching bag that spouted cliches I would have pulverized it by now. (If I were really honest I would include all the expletives that are involved in the alternate conversation in my head.)

"God is in control" *POW*
"This is all part of God's perfect plan." *WHAMMO*
"Let go and let God." *BLAM-BLAM-BLAM"

Yeah, whatever. None of those things mean anything to me. All the rotten things that happen in this world aren't part of God's plan. Why the hell would God's perfect plan include murder, rape, mutilation, abuse, war, AIDS, starvation, disease, and all the other hard or heinous things in this world? It's just bad theology to suggest such a thing. GOD IS GOOD NOT EVIL. God doesn't inflict evil things upon us to "teach us a lesson" or "build our character" - if He did that He would be abusive, not loving. People make choices to participate in some of these heinous acts and God is not in control of that; He allows humans to choose whatever they will. God is sovereign but that is another matter.

So what is my problem? I'm tired. I want to go live in a cabin in the woods for a month where I can be still and know that God is God. I often hear of others who go on pilgrimages to Buddhist monasteries or Ashrams and this seems like a good idea to me. (I know that I said hiding out in a monastery is cowardly in a previous blog. I am not contradicting myself. I am suggesting the value of going there for restoration purposes rather than to hide from life's problems for an indefinite amount of time like Sister Maria tried in The Sound of Music.) The closest thing we have in Christendom is a Catholic monastery; however, I am not Catholic and some of our beliefs would differ. Many churches host so-called retreats; I have yet to find any rest or restoration on one of these seminar-filled, activity-packed venues. Going to a cabin in the woods sounds more realistic since there ain't much else to choose from. Many Christians don't seem to value mystery or mystics much; a jam-packed seminar will keep our little minds off the greater mysteries of our existence. However, these mysteries have become a deafening part of my existence and there is no drowning them out. As I say to my husband, "I'm not a typical pastor's wife - I am the kooky-mystic-writer person who doesn't fit the profile and doesn't do any of the expected pastor's wife things." (This may be why I feel like a crazy person. What's with those perfect go-getters?!)

Jesus specifically talks about doing the impossible with God's power. How does that work exactly? And if my faith is too small will God make it bigger? I really want to know the answer to this question and my heart hurts for the not knowing. What about seeing people healed? What about my own healing? I have so many questions for God and some of them need answers here on earth, not just in the hereafter. There have been human beings who knew God on a whole other plane than the one that I am currently on and I need to be where they were in their understanding of God and in their relationship with Him.
What I really long for is restoration. I long to have a clear picture of the health vs. the unhealth in my life so that I can make better decisions. I am weary of making bad decisions based on guilt or pride or just plain pigheadedness and then hating my life because of it. Right now I am helping co-lead children's ministry. For anyone who knows me well, you know that this is neither a gift nor a passion area for me. I have never dreamed of doing this. I have never wanted to do this. I have dreaded doing this. So, basically, I am an idiot right now that I am even doing this and then wailing, "But if I don't do it who will?!" Doesn't exactly sound like a decision made by a healthy person, right? Maybe what's on the rocks is all of this cliched, guilt-inducing, perfect-pastor's wife nonsense that is ruining my life, not my faith. I dunno. It's hard to differentiate.

When life hands you lemons...
slice them up and garnish your drink with them.
Instead of the little umbrellas, serve with a Barbie head on a swizzler stick.

Being Present

Sometimes I think we suffer too much alone during these things and it sure does help to have friends and people who offer encouragement and love and prayers and it really doesn't matter if you are hundreds or thousands of miles away because I still feel your support somehow. The older (and hopefully, wiser) I get the more I want to reach out and be present for other people and have them be present for me. Hopefully this is a safe place.