The month of August has been quite trying for the Sanders family. We have, in the last month, endured the following:

• Our home air conditioning system went out. Twice.
• Our stove exploded- mid baking.
• Husband gave the water hose a yank while washing the car and pulled our new-ish cast iron mailbox down. By the way, it exploded into 15 distinct pieces as soon as it hit our porch. Total loss.
• Husband ran over the previously mentioned water hose with the lawn mower two hours later. Goodbye water hose.
• Our boxer unraveled the padding around our trampoline. The yard was covered with tiny blue plastic strings and insulation chunks.
• The hose came off the back of my dryer and had to be replaced.
• We had a blow out on the boat trailer, ten miles from home at 11:30 at night.
• The air in my car went out while we are experiencing “mild” heat indices of 115*
• Our middle son had to get stitches.
• I developed some strange food allergy that caused itchy pink spots to develop over 95% of my body. This has required 16 days of steroids and benadryl.

 While I have “had enough” of all this mess, I know that at the end of every one of these days, the blessings have far outweighed the crap. This is the trick to surviving the mayhem, I think. Looking for the good in every day. Now, please excuse me. I have to pick up my son and my car has to have a kick under the dash before the air will work. : )

Recently I switched gyms. My old gym had lots of old people on walkers and a few in wheelchairs. The conversations taking place on the treadmills consisted of hip replacement war stories and how to work more fiber into their diets.  I liked that crowd.

My new gym serves an entirely different clientele. This crowd is hip, young and tanned. They play loud music and talk about parties and what they think life will be like when they get old…like my age. I like this crowd too.  

There is one thing that I see here that worries me though. Hairless men. Manscaped.  Manscaping as defined by the Urban Dictionary is the removal of excess body hair of men by plucking, waxing and tweezing. Yes, my new friends at the gym are indeed free of excess body hair. They are so “free”, they look a good deal like my Ken Doll I had as a child.

It’s not a trend I find visually appealing. But some people obviously do. Why else would guys want to wax, tweeze and shave? Is chest hair itchy? Do hairy legs run slower than smooth ones? I don’t know…

I do KNOW:

-Waxing Hurts. Let me say that again. Waxing HURTS. Hot, sticky wax is spread over your skin and hair is YANKED out of your skin. OUCH. Then there is the swelling that last for a few days.  It’s comparable to a wasp sting. So two brows waxed equals four wasp stings on the eye brow. FUN STUFF.

-Commitment. I takes a lot of time and effort to shave our legs.  Do you really want to go down that road? Leg shaving  is nothing, if not a commitiment. It must be done continuously otherwise be prepared for complaints about ”cactus legs”.  Are you ready to deal with cactus legs? 

-Maintenance, maintenance. Keeping up with a tan, waxing and shaving is expensive. Ask around. 

What do you all think about Manscaping?

We had taken a quick vacation with the family, last week to a resort a few hours from home. This place had a water park full of screaming children running wild. My kids were immediately smitten with the place. Me? Not so much. I was envisioning multiple fall scenarios that would require an Emergency Room visit. Every where I looked there were unsafe acts being committed. Kids running on wet floors, diving head first  into 6 feet deep pools, pushing each other and ridiculous amounts of choking/ coughing/ water in the lungs. Indoors and out, mostly unsupervised juveniles roamed on the edge of certain injury. The noise was deafening.  My own children were of course desperate to join in the fun.

After a while, I spied a gigantic rock hot tub located behind strategically placed ferns in a tucked away corner. It was beautiful. HUGE. An oasis of tranquillity. That little spot of heaven could accommodate twenty adults easily. The best part: no one was in it! I tried not to act too excited, kids can sniff out parental hope a mile away. So I played it cool and casually wandered near the hot tub pretending to check out the plants. As I got near the steps, I turned for a quick look behind me to make sure I hadn’t been followed. The coast was clear!  I sunk down into the steamy water. My attitude began to immediately improve. “This place isn’t so bad. Your kids are having a great time. RELAX.” I thought and I did…

“HI MOM!!” screeched my four year old son Zack. I jumped and hit my head on the rock ledge of the tub. In he came to what I was now referring to as “my sanctuary”. He splashed on in and sat down. Expounding on where he believed all of this warm water was coming from. His exuberant tone of voice soon attracted a little girl who drug her  parents into the “hot waters” for some splashing. (Thus proving my theory that children sense when adults are trying to be quiet. They are drawn to solitude like moths to a flame. Moths that come to destroy with big buckets of icy cold water and obnoxiously loud, early nineties pop music)

The little girl plopped down between her parents and they looked at me. Now it was a party. A small awkward party of guests that wanted each other to leave. I could see it in their eyes “Please. Go away. Let us have this one little piece of happiness to ourselves. Do you see our daughter? She is KILLING us. QUICKLY. We just want this one warm spot of water…please…leave.”.  I shifted my position and ignored their looks. I couldn’t do it. Give them the one thing they wanted- alone time.

Zack continued on talking about his puppy, a desire for a pocket knife to kill bands of roving bears, his plan to protect me from said bears that might attack when I least expected, like at Kroger’s grocery store. I began my “Uh huh. That’s right. Good job.” mantra and closed my eyes. 

 The little girl soon left but her parents had stayed behind and started the hot tub… and some cuddling. Even more awkward. Water started gently swirling and one big air bubble rose to the surface. “IT WASN’T ME! I PROMISE!” Zack yelled out in their direction. Then on cue a million little bubbles started breaking the surface of the water. Zack then looked directly at the couple and said “IT MUST HAVE BEEN MY MOM! THAT’S A LOT OF BUBBLES!”.

 They looked at me with hard, unsmiling faces. At that moment, I decided to give them the one thing that they wanted all along.  ”Enjoy the hot tub!” I said, as I exited ungracefully.

We are finishing up a Sunday morning class at my church  in which we memorized the Sermon on the Mount.( Full disclosure: I am not there yet. I have chunks memorized, but not the whole thing, still working on it…) At first, I was so excited by the challenge, I could hardly wait for mornings to roll around. My enthusiasm quickly waned. Not due to the work, but my perspective.

 Every passage I memorized left me more and more convinced that I was failing miserably. I began to view the Sermon as a big checklist of good Christianity. Sitting down with the Sermon each day became harder and harder. It was like a huge To-Do List that seemed impossible. Misery set in quickly.

Last week, I was sitting outside in the sun, wrestling though the Sermon again. As I read, I remembered an ugly incident the day before.  We were sitting at a stop light in town, waiting our turn. The light turned green and I began to pull out. At that exact moment a girl in a big SUV ran the stop light. She almost hit us. Her car was so close I could have reached out and touched her. And I really wanted to do just that…Reach out grab, her cell phone and throw it into oncoming traffic.

She never even slowed down. She never looked around. She had no idea she had nearly hit me and my three precious children. I felt weak all over, terrified and then angry. Rage surged up from my feet and then right out my mouth. “YOU IDIOT!”, I yelled. ( She was long gone, but my kids heard every syllable. Great.) It was very quiet in my car for a few minutes after that. But in my head? “YOU IDIOT! YOU IDIOT! RACA! RACA!”

 I was so ashamed.  My words had degraded all of us. Not just her. We were all lessened, not by her carelessness, but by my anger and  hardness. I had acted in a way that was without honor, without dignity.

This is when I began to think about the Sermon in a new way. Maybe my perspective was all wrong. What if Jesus wasn’t laying out a to-do list of piety, but instead a recipe for dignity and honor?

The world view was then and continues to be: Degrading others is not only acceptable, it’s necessary to gain honor and dignity. Tear others down to build yourself up. Get him before he gets you. Use your body, use others’ bodies, in any way you wish.

Then Jesus comes along and says “You have heard it was said…but I tell you…”. Give to those who ask you, love those that hurt you. Skip the illicit sex AND the lusting too. On it goes; the recipe for an abundant life is laid out point by point.  Jesus turns “common knowledge” upside down and in doing so, we are righted- along with those around us. True dignity and honor reign. Lives are lived in deeply meaningful ways.

Now, I read these words with a whole new perspective.  The Sermon on the Mount is a call to a new, honorable, dignified life. An internal shift away from degradation of bodies and spirits, a call to a better life for us and those we impact, not a checklist of attitudes to obtain.

What do you think? Have any thoughts to share about the Sermon on the Mount?

Have you ever believed something ridiculous? I have. For the last few months I have been sure God was going to bring my house keys back to me. They were stolen while I was running at the track by my house. The young men who took them? I smiled at them and gave a friendly wave, as they walked past me laughing. I assumed they were laughing at an inside joke. Unfortunately, I turned out to be the inside joke they were enjoying.

They grabbed my keys and quickly disappeared. By the time I realized what had happened, it was getting dark, cold and my kids were hungry. My husband wouldn’t be home for another two hours. Every second that ticked by brought me closer to a meltdown.  I found myself praying God would bring good from this situation.

Almost immediately, two neighbors I had never met before,  Kenny and A.J. came over and began to help me look for the keys. They looked even harder than I did.  Even though we didn’t find the keys, we found we enjoyed visiting. They have become our friends since then. Several times I have thought how I would never have met them if my keys hadn’t been stolen.

Now here is the ridiculous part of the story, I always knew my keys would come back and God was not finished with this story.  There is no rationality in that sentence. I know that sounds crazy.  The odds were not in my favor, there was no logical reason I believed.  I just did.

So every few days I would think about my keys and wonder where they were. I would pray for those men who stole them- then move on. Periodically I would say to my husband “I can’t believe my keys haven’t turned up yet!”. He would smile at me and say nothing.

This morning my friend Joyce and I were enjoying breakfast together when my phone rang. On the line was a kind man who introduced himself as  Mr. Chuck. He said he had a story to tell me. Early this morning, some men from Central Maintenance were working at my son’s elementary school. They were doing some heating and cooling work on the roof and found…MY KEYS! They gave them to Mr. Chuck who looked them over and noticed on my key ring was a gym membership number. Guess who also is a member of my gym? Mr.Chuck! He had a break coming up so drove across town and asked the gym for help in tracking down the owner of the keys.  Less than an hour later, I had my keys and a picture of Mr. Chuck.

Mr. Chuck is a Christian, who told me all about his family, his church and  his work at the school. Mostly he  was extremely concerned that all credit be given to the men of Central Maintenance. So not only is a sweet man, he is humble as well.  He didn’t even bat an eye when I told him I knew God was going to return those keys. Maybe that is the sweetest gift of all. To be able to share our God stories and not be rejected, but embraced.

I am a cheater.  A cheater, cheater Pumpkin Eater. I have broken the covenant between me and my Hairstylist by letting other people cut and style my hair.  Don’t scoff. It’s a big deal. Everyone knows that you can only cheat on your Hairstylist with another Scissor Wielder once. Once. Twice? Forget it. IT IS OVER. You can’t go back that second time…

The first time one cheats it’s not as difficult to go back to our Main Squeeze and say “Look, it was late. I was desperate. That liquid diet I was trying out made my blood sugar plummet and I wasn’t thinking clearly.  My friends talked me into trying someone else. I didn’t plan on cheating…it just happened. I am sorry. It will never happen again. You are the one for me. From now on, my hair is your hair. Where you go I will go.Your people will be my people. Your Salon will be my Salon. . Amen.”

There will be consequences when you come back. Just get that into your head right now. Your Hair Stylist will never completely trust you again. A cancelled appointment will arouse suspicion. She may require you to come with a doctor’s note next time.

She will also remind you periodically, of you past transgression, the lapse of good judgement. Each aberration of your hair follicles will be blamed on the bad treatment you received from THE OTHER ONE. Plan on having it brought up several times during the next six months, possibly longer. Be prepared to endure emotional upheaval for awhile.  This is a relationship that has suffered a trust crisis, remember those things take time to work out. Eventually things do right themselves and each one pretends the affair never happened. Such relief.

But the second time you jump the fence? Well, there is no going back Sister or Brother. That is it! Game over. What excuse can you possibly muster up for the second straying? There just isn’t one. The first affair could be overlooked, not the second. Not my second…

This is where I found my two-timing self yesterday, an exile from my Salon home, in need of hair intervention.  I walked into the new salon with a sense of shame. I had messed in my own, comfortable nest and now must try to build a new nest. My new stylist is much different than my old one. She doesn’t wear shoes and has a penchant for Hot Pockets. But she did a good job with my hair and that’s enough, I guess. 

Still, I miss my old salon. I am thinking about driving by there today. A couple of times. Might even stop in and buy some hairspray. Maybe I’ll say “Hi” to my old Stylist. Perhaps we’ll talk and she will welcome me back with open arms, no questions asked. A girl can dream.

This is my first time to be a Little League parent. It has been a learning experience for my whole family, not just Zeke. We are half way through the season now and his team’s skill level has gone from bad to not as bad. We lose, a lot. In fact our team has won a single, solitary game so far. We are tied for absolute last place in the league but MOST of the kids have no idea. In fact, my own son runs out of the dugout at the end of every game and asks “Mom! Did we win?”.  ; )

One thing I have noticed is that playing Little League entails many of the same pitfalls that go hand in hand with being a Christian, for most of us. Here are a few similarities, in my opinion.

1. IT’S EXCITING!…Why Don’t Other Folks Want To Play?-  Little League is a BIG deal when you are six. There are new uniforms, new equipment, cheering fans and new people to befriend. Just like being a new Christian. Every day is awesomely exciting…at first…then not so much…then amazing again! What’s not to love?

We can’t believe that other people have no interest in being a Christian and find it even more unbelievable that someone may not have had a great experience when they were. Folks walk away from God and we are mystified. What happened? Don’t they like to wear cleats? (BTW, if you attend a church that requires members to wear cleats, please write me)

2. Failure is always an option (surprise!)- My son fully expects to hit a home run every game. EVERY game. So when he strikes out (60%) of the time, he is shocked. Completely shocked and ridiculously hard on himself.

Zeke is certain that failure was not supposed to be an option on his journey. “I was supposed to be good at this!” he says in a heartbreaking way. I totally understand that, but where do we get those ideas? How many Christians find themselves in the same boat? Wondering what happened? Struggling with “old sins”, falling into new ones right and left.  Failure wasn’t supposed to be an option…was it? No one said anything about THAT in orientation!

3. Compare, Compare- The boys and girls on Zeke’s team are constantly comparing themselves to each other. Who can hit the ball the farthest? Who always gets a hit? Who can run at near sonic speed? I don’t know. Ask Zeke or his team mates. They know and are dying to share the information with you.

Every Christian I know struggles with comparison in some way. We can totally ignore that whole passage in Corinthians about every “part” being vital to the body and instead wish we could be like _____. Or we may go the other direction and assume we are really better than we are since we don’t struggle with _____ like Brother and Sister X. Either way, it’s a slippery complicated slope. I know, since I slide down it, face first, more than you know.   ; )

3. Sometimes We Get BAD Advice – In every game Zeke has played this season, someone ends up tagged out because of bad advice. In Little League baseball, like life, the loudest voices often dominate. The parents screaming “RUN!” from the stands are easier to hear than the first base coach pleading with kids to STOP.  I see kids hesitate over bad advice, time and again, then choose to follow the booming crowd over the coach. The look of dismay that comes over the kids when they realize that they did the “right” thing but still have to make the long, lonely walk to the dugout is sobering. Been there. Done that.

As a Christian, we are called to live in community with others. (God is BIG on community, He’s the original. The OC) When we walk with others, it’s inevitable we get some bad advice along the way. I do believe there are those who set out to deceive, but for the most part, we pass on to other folks bad theology that we have been given. 

When you have been the recipient of such, there are two choices. Get bitter or forgive. I think we know where Jesus lands on this issue.

4.   We Forget- Man, we forget where we have been so easily it makes my head spin. We wrestle and pray and seek and then…something Holy clicks within us and WE GET IT! (insert Angelic chorus here) So the next day, we are frustrated that others are STILL lagging behind. Yes, we just now sort of grasp the concept, but we know that if “they” would just try harder it would be obvious to them as well. Come on already!

Zeke can’t believe that Zack has trouble catching the ball. Still?  He’s four years old! I have trouble being patient with others who still wrestle over issues I have moved on from or feel compelled to explain to me, repeatedly, how I am so clearly wrong in certain areas. Why aren’t they HERE already?

 Oh, yeah, just got here myself. Now I remember…

So what about you? Have anything to add or debate me on? I welcome your insights- just take off your cleats first…

I did some traveling lately to a magical land called Malibu. Now to get to Malibu from Arkansas, I took an airplane, which is a big deal for someone afraid of heights and closed in places. For my first flying experiences, I think I did great. IF you don’t count me grabbing my friend and yelling “WHAT THE FLIP WAS THAT!” when the landing gear came down, I did well. Or you gloss over the fact I was compelled to cover my whole head with a jacket and slowly rock back and forth while clutching the seat in front of me as we touched down, every time. So basically, ignoring those minor events… one could argue I really did okay.

But this post is not about  me, it’s about the people on the planes…

As I flew over five thousand miles with hundreds of stangers, I was repeatedly hit by one thought: People are pretty good. I know that sounds simplistic and maybe naive, but let me tell you why I believe that is actually a statement of hope and recognition of reality.

I tend to feel down if I watch too much news coverage. It’s easy to think the world (and it’s people) stink after an hour of network news. There is so much pain, injustice, and negativity that I feel my heart will break from the sadness. The brutality and unloving acts of other humans played out in a 24 hours news cycle is too much to bear.  Cynicism is the natural consequence of ingesting such toxicity day in and day out.  Thus, I limit my exposure to the negativity while still finding a way to stay informed.

But cynicsim still seeps into my life…despite my vigiliance. It creeps in when I see the mom at the ball park yell at her six year old for striking out. It rushes in when I see people I love taken advantage of and it pours in when I see myself resorting to “old sins” I thought I left behind long ago. Like a drumbeat, these thoughts come into my head, my heart: “People are mean. The world is a scary, cruel place. Things will only get worse. Where is God?” 

And then…then I sit in a plane full of strangers, flying high over the clouds, three thousand feet in the air and I see God, in all of them. The elderly couple who gives up their seats so a toddler can have more room to romp on the plane, the young men who hoist the ridiculously heavy bags into the overhead for people they have never met before, then pull them gently back down again- that is God’s loving nature displayed in humans. Strangers who sit down together and share their lives, strangers who sit down together, rest beside each other in amicable silence, share snacks, overlook offenses…those are examples of the goodness of  God and the people he has created. 

These acts are reality too! Though they will not be reported or repeated on news casts or anywhere else for that matter. I submit that there is much more loving kindness being perpetrated in this world than not. I do not intend to give the impression it’s all sunshine and roses out here. I see injustice. I see greed, arrogance and evil…but I see good too. I see God and THAT is worth writing about.

This is an awkward kind of post, let’s just establish that right now.

It’s not going to make you laugh or cry or anything else. There will be no “Aha!” moment or even an “Oh, that was uncomfortable” moment, to be perfectly honest. No, this post is just a casual “Hey, back in town and thought we could get together sometime soon” kind of message.

So…yeah…back in town and ready to write. I will be showing up here tomorrow with something PROFOUND to say or not…  You will just have to come back and see! (I sure hope you do)

I am in the midst of a home remodel and need a break. This blog closed for two weeks. Thanks for waiting for me…you are going to wait, right? : )