Chewymom

If you have not already heard the news, please click here and here, and keep the Chapman family in your prayers. I love what Steven Curtis Chapman and family have done to encourage people to adopt “unwanted” children. And this story hits so close to home because I have a five-year-old daughter and a teenager who drives. Especially be in prayer for the son who was driving–I don’t know how a person ever gets over something like this….

Check out what happens when a bunch of brothers decide to pool their resources! And when they come up short, they offer to thoroughly clean the house for housekeeper wages to make up the difference. I call that a win-win!

PS3 and ROCK BAND!

There are disadvantages to being married to a computer nerd. You know–the type that owns several pairs of pants and ten black t-shirts with geeky sayings, all written in the same white font, that he purchased from Think Geek. Not that I know anybody like that.

Ahem.

So anyway, if I were married to a computer nerd I would, for example, not be able to update my own blog without help. Or put podcasts on my own iPod.

Which I can’t.

But finally the resident computer nerd came to my rescue and loaded me a bunch of podcasts. So today I listened to a sermon while I was out doing my run/walk. And it made me think, first about the wonders of podcasts and being married to a computer nerd, but second about sinners and sinfulness.

We’ve all heard the phrase “love the sinner, hate the sin.” But the reality is, most of us are terrified of the sinner. Christians work hard to isolate themselves from the world–to protect their childrens’ innocence, to keep evil influences at bay. We do this through Christian schools, through nightly programs at church, and some even do it by moving to “compounds.” And no, I’m not just referring to the FLDS group in Texas. Check out, as another example, R.C. Sproul, Jr’s Highland Study Center which calls itself “simple, separate, deliberate kingdom.” The word separate is not there by accident.

Even if we don’t intentionally isolate ourselves, take a look within our churches. Have you ever heard of someone referred to as “hopeless?” Well, I have. People have tried to minister to this one guy for years, and yet he still is overweight, smokes, and struggles financially. And so “the church” throws up its hands and says, “I QUIT!” And what do we do with the person who has sinned deeply and confesses it? Well, we rejoice at his repentance, but by darned he’ll never be allowed to teach (because what could he know about holiness?) or hold an office (it would be a blight on the kingdom of God). What about the divorcee? Hasn’t she left a blemish on the reputation of Christ and his relationship with the body?

Remember when Jesus was crucified? Those Jews who were putting him on the cross, yelling “crucify him!”–do you think they realized what they were doing? Of course not. They were helping God out. Doing him a favor. Here was this crazy man who rather than isolate himself and surround himself with godly men who were a picture of holiness was hanging out with sinners. Drunks, prostitutes, tax collectors. And more than that, he seemed to side with them and their understanding of the gospel over the spiritual leaders of the day. This man was a blight on God’s kingdom and had to be stopped. And those who crucified him were ready to help God stop him.

And so the most heinous act in history took place. Man killed God.

Jesus knew what was going on, and in his final words, he said, “Forgive them, for they know not what they do.”

And the message to me, as I listened to the podcast today, was twofold. First, as a Christian, I cannot allow myself to be isolated. And frankly, it made me ticked at those who want to live in isolation and who couch it with phrases like “likeminded” and “fellowship” and such. But second, and more relevant to my own heart, Jesus asked God to forgive the self-righteous spiritual leaders of the day. And you know, even as I work to not be sucked into a message that says, “isolate yourself from the ungodly” or even one that looks at me and says, “and maybe Chewymom is one of the ungodly,” I need to stand ready to also say, “I forgive the spiritual leaders who have this attitude–they do not understand what they are doing.”

For more Wordless Wednesdays, click here.

I got exactly what I wanted for Mother’s Day yesterday. A lazy day at home with my family, and a bunch of ooooold Dan Fogelberg tunes on my iPod. Today I set out for my walk/run. And might I add I ran for THIRTY MINUTES, y’all!! I had the iPod play all Fogelberg, and I reminisced.

In high school, I was ALL ABOUT the Dan Fogelberg albums. I could put them on my record player (yes, I am that old) and listen for hours. I would get lost in the songs about love. I would croon right along with Dan and get so caught up in the plight of the gambler, that I would momentarily forget that the cowboy-wannabe who had introduced me to Fogelberg had just dumped me. I would listen to the words of “Windows and Walls” and want to weep as I thought of my widowed grandmother living with us, primarily in the room below me, and how lonely she must be. Some of Dan’s songs were so deep I wasn’t sure I really understood them at all, but I put in hours trying.

Today I relistened to and relivedmany of those thoughts and emotions as I ran. And then a song came on that caught my attention. It seemed almost to be a good-bye song. And perhaps it was. I had not heard it before, so I suspect it is from a newer album, perhaps written after Fogelberg learned that he had prostate cancer.

I was so grieved back in December when I learned that Dan had passed away. Which seems odd because it isn’t like I knew him or anything. I wouldn’t be looking around my table at Christmas, grieving over the empty space. But because Dan shared his soul through his music in a way that spoke to me and that walked me through many years of teenage angst, I guess I felt a kinship with him and felt like I had a window into his soul. And today I was just thinking how thankful I am that sometimes God creates a life and breathes depth and skill and music into it that allows it to weave amazing lyrics that touch the hearts and lives of so many people in with haunting and soulful melodies that stir the soul. And I’m thankful that Dan Fogelberg and his music were such a part of my teen years and beyond, and that now–even though the records are long since scratched beyond recognition–I have those songs available to me again on my iPod.

Someone is offended. Or so I have heard, fifth hand.

All I really know is that it is someone from my church. Who told someone, who told an entire group of people, who told someone, who told someone, who told me. I’ll admit that I’m not shocked that I’ve offended someone. I am a queen of opening my mouth to change feet. I know that I offend my children daily—I make them eat their green beans, I take away cell phone privileges, I play *“Boogie in Your Butt” as I drive up to the middle school, and I occasionally even refuse to order pizza. It offends the heck out of my gang. (*Disclaimer–the above link may, ironically I suppose, offend some of you. But I’m very juvenile, and I find it really, really funny.)

I’m guessing that this offense goes a little beyond having to eat green things at dinner or having your mother play “Boogie in Your Butt” in front of your friends, and I am also guessing that it has to do with my blog. But that’s all it is–a guess–because the offended party chose to discuss this with others, and the circle grew until it got back around to me. I do not like to offend people, and so I want to apologize. But that is made rather difficult because I don’t even know what I am apologizing for. I guess I’m not even sure if I’m sorry! I mean, I am sorry if I have hurt feelings, but I’m not sure if whatever I have said is something I would regret saying (or writing) or if it is something I would say I feel strongly about and still stand by.

And I guess that brings me to a point about this blog. I started it anonymously. I never really intended for it to become something for local friends to read. It has become that, and I have tried to get used to that idea. It’s a little weird because real-life acquaintances know intimate details about my musings, but I don’t know the same about them. My blog is where I hash out my ideas and thoughts. It is a journal that I have chosen to make public. I need to operate within the realization that it is public, and I have no doubt I should at times use a more effective filter on my brain-in-print.

I would ask that anyone (especially local folks) who reads this do so with the understanding that first, when I write about things, it isn’t always about this city, this church, etc. I have lived in five cities and been a member of seven churches in my married life. Not every issue I write about has to do with situations that my local acquaintances are familiar with, even if there does seem to be a correlation. Also, realize that I often hash out my thoughts on major issues using minor examples. I am thinking aloud. And I am currently questioning a lot of my long-held beliefs. That doesn’t mean I am questioning your beliefs, although if I make you think I don’t mind. But I am having my own mid-life crisis working through a lot of things that I have always believed just because, and I have to know if I still agree with myself. It is highly likely that you will be shocked and dismayed. That you will question my spirituality, my faith, even my sanity. I hope that you can handle that, and handle realizing that you are seeing some inner-workings of my heart that are often reserved for intimate friendships, or for the safety of an anonymous blog. If you are not comfortable with it, I would ask that you click away. Really.

And if you truly do feel that I have said something hurtful or offensive to you, I am asking that you talk to me. You can comment on here–you can even do so anonymously. Just like the people who commented on this post. Except they only think they are anonymous. (We know who you are…we have not forgotten…punishment is still forthcoming.) Or you can speak to me face-to-face. But I would ask that if you choose to continue to read my blog and find me offensive, please let me know.

And if you are one of the people who has chosen to keep the rumor mill going by passing it along that “Chewymom is offending people…” well, all I can do is point you to a little game you probably used to play in Kindergarten where you sat in a circle, and the first person made something up and whispered it to the next. And on it went back to the starting point, and then you compared the two versions. And laughed hysterically, because they were nothing alike. And hopefully learned a lesson about rumors. The lesson being that rather than being a party to spreading rumors, if you go to the source, you are more likely to find out the truth than if you keep spreading a more and more distorted version.

As usual I have said in 1000 words what could have been said in probably fifteen words or less. If I have offended you, I am sorry. And please talk to me about it. The end.

I have to make a confession. I told a whopper.

I didn’t intend to.

Ya know how little boys grown up men are when they go fishing? Me neither, because we don’t fish. But I’ve heard stories. Men come home from a fishing trip and say, “It was thiiiis big!” as they stretch their arms out wider and wider.

Or they say, “It was two feet long,” when in fact it was really only, say, one-and-a-half.

Okay, remember how I said I ran two miles the other day? Well, I did it again yesterday, only this time I had the correct watch on, and I ran it in 21 minutes. Which for me is not possible. At all. The last time I ran a 5k, and I’ll grant you it was several years ago, I think I was doing about a 14 minute mile. Or worse. No way I just up and ran a 10.5 minute mile.

So I emailed the cross country coach again to verify the distance. He replied back that it was about two miles. Hmmmm….

So today the gates that are normally shut to traffic on the golf-course road I ran, happened to be open. And I happened to drive the course.

One-and-one-half miles, almost exactly.

So I didn’t mean to exaggerate–to tell a fish-tale–but I did. I ran 1.5 miles two days ago. And again yesterday.

I’m still pleased as punch, even if my fish was a little smaller than previously stated!

I hope the alien stays.

Yesterday, I was my usual self. I nagged my husband, I fussed at my kids, I had a couple of semi-frozen margaritas at a Cinco de Mayo party, along with a big slice of lemon pie. All typical. Except that I normally don’t have access to margaritas, semi-frozen or otherwise. I did a little cleaning, which is not normal. And I was generally grumpy. More normal than I would care to admit.

Today I woke up and had my coffee and studied for my final a little bit. And then I set out for the walk I had put in my calendar to force myself to do it. I have been doing a Couch-to-5-K program. Well, technically I’m on week two, so I’ve done it for one week. I walked 1-1/2 miles around to where I usually start my run-walk. Today I was supposed to run 90 seconds, then walk 90 seconds. I reached down to set my watch to beep every 90 seconds, and dang it! I had put on the wrong watch. This one doesn’t beep, nor is it easy to see.

Plan B was to run for 100 paces, then see how long it had taken me. So I counted out 100 paces, and realized I was only at 40 seconds. So I decided to run 100 more paces for a total of pretty close to 90 seconds, then I would walk 200 paces. Only, when I got through my second 100 paces of running, I felt good, so I thought–and I think this is the place where the alien actually invaded my body–that I would just keep running 100 paces, and then 100 more, until I wanted to stop.

Only I kept feeling good.

And I kept running.

All the way to the other gate, which is precisely two miles, or so I’m told by the high school cross country coach.

Y’all, I ran two miles! Out of nowhere! And it wasn’t that hard!

Tomorrow, I’ll be riding in an electric scooter at the grocery store, because my legs, they will rebel. And the alien will likely have left my body once it figures out that it has mistaken me for a person who can, well, run.

But for today, I rather enjoyed the alien.

And for the record, I think my nagging may have been at an all-time low today, too.