Him: Like the first thing I need to see when I come home from work and open the paper is a picture of Leahy frowning.

I'm not sure I'll adequately convey how hard this made me laugh. There are two things in this world that get Kevin's blood boiling: property taxes and the school board (which translates into, you guessed it... more property taxes.)

Kevin has made the astute observation that there are two file photos of Tom Leahy, our Superintendent of Schools. One, sadly used more frequently, is the one they used tonight; a somber countenance, or as Kevin calls it, his sad, see-how-much-money-we-can-squeeze-out-of-the-ignorant-public file photo. Okay. He calls it his sad face. I added the rest, call it creative license. The other, I confess to rarely seeing, shows a man of gleeful optimism, used primarily when the school's ACT scores are up or there's talk of a salary increase.

He's right. And as he continued to gripe about it while pouring himself a drink, he had me laughing so hard I'll be coughing the rest of the night. Imagine the writers who have to pull the photos and the discussion surrounding the choice between the two. I'm thinking they could use a few pointers in PR if they really want to rally the troops. Kevin sees that pic and votes "NO" every time. Poor Leahy. Don't even know the guy and Kevin can't stand the sight of him...

purrrrrrr.....

John and Shawna came over for supper tonight after their game. I fixed John's favorite: Chicken and Rice. We make quite the pair; my miserable cold-turned-sinus-infection to his puffy lips, loose teeth and oozing stitches. (Injuries sustained during Saturday's church softball tournament...had he chosen to play drums, would this have happened?) No big surprise he decided to play tonight's first co-ed softball game which further cements my opinion the boy, though sweet as they come, though funny as all get-out, is as dumb as a post. Sometimes.

That said: Kevin was his usual entertaining self during dinner, prompting several moments of eye contact between the rest of us at his expense, and testing John's resistance to laugh out loud, which is still quite painful on the oozing stitches. Then I mention to Kevin that Clayton told me I should call Apple and get a free upgrade on my MacBook. Being not-so-much in the know I said they just came out with Tiger. Well, smack my butt and call me a biscuit, Kevin tore into that one. Oh, what an idiot am I. Silly, silly, me. So as he's off and running down the "I married a PC moron" trail, he tries to spit out the name of the correct upgrade, which I might add, I had already corrected, (Leopard) but instead he gets tongue tied and as he stutters and stammers around he ends the sentence with "one of those &#$!% pussy names".

Poor John. That had to hurt...

death by worms...

I remember where I was standing and what I was thinking as a visiting choir from one of the Bible colleges had just finished their Sunday evening program at MPCC. I was in probably 9th or 10th grade which means I had long straight blonde hair, bangs on the way out, braces, no makeup and plenty of dreams. I was talking to the girl who had accompanied them on piano in the back of the sanctuary. I can see her standing there with the wooden partition that stood behind the last row of pews. I can see the amber light of the room from the north wall of ceiling high windows. The same amber light that made most if not all of my wedding pictures look antiquated. I can feel the people nudge past us in the cramped aisle between us and the stairs to the cry-room. I can see them reaching for their coats on the way to the door. And I hear her say "Praise God."

I had been drooling all over her and stood amazed at her talent. A pianist since age four, I had hopes of pursuing it in college. I had hopes of pursuing it in Bible college. I simply told her how great she was and she smiled and said "Praise God."

For years after that I applied her response to my own moments of accolades. Meaning it with a passion it still managed to sound plastic falling from my tongue. I can't tell you how many times over the years I've pointed heavenward as applause filled the room. And meant it. I can't tell you how many times over the years I've deferred the praises they offer me to Him. And meant it. I offer them still and yet I need that affirmation with a vengeance. I need the approval. I need your approval, whoever you might be. Ironically, as I examine this, I recognize how often I deflect a compliment with some self-deprecating jibe with the intent to stay humble.

I remember reading in Ortberg’s "The Life You’ve Always Wanted" his chapter on approval and seeing for the first time that it was possible to practice false humility and that it’s okay to actually accept positive response to our efforts and that by belittling our gifts though in good conscience to practice humility we do ourselves and our Creator a disservice. I’m not gonna lie: I like to know I’m special. I like to know I’m good at what I do. I like to know people like what they see and hear. I like to know that God is using me in some way. [I think underneath it all is a constant struggle with being self-conscious. I have tons of self-esteem, ask my family. I love me and always have. I’m just so conscious of what people think of me and I need that constant affirmation, I do. But it isn’t about the glory. It just isn’t.] I know in my deepest of crevices my gifts are His and always will be. That has never even been an issue and I know in my deepest of crevices I would never desire to use them for anyone else. The glory is His alone and the gifts He’s allowed me the passion and ability to develop over the years have given me more joy and pleasure than I'll ever deserve. I just hope those who have been witness to them in the past and in the years to come will know I know from Whom they flow, because I do. And more than just hearing me answer "Praise God" when you pat me on the back, may my life speak for itself as I learn to live it out for His glory. For me, a simple "thank you" feels more honest and "me" than anything else I can come up with, and when you hear me say it, please know the praise belongs to Him.

"Instantly, an angel of the Lord struck Herod with a sickness, because he accepted the people’s worship instead of giving the glory to God. So he was consumed with worms...and died." Acts 12:23

dots and whispers...

From a friend sharing a verse from I Kings...to a handful of conversations I found myself in yesterday, I've been burdened to pray for discernment and wisdom. God is speaking and I'm trying to wrap my knuckle-head around it all. What it all means remains to be understood but I'm listening. I'm listening...

Okay. I know I'm a girl. I know all about the hormones. But stink. All he did was leave a voicemail. All he did was tell me the pool was ready for me if I find time to get in it today. All he did was think of me. He doesn't even really like that stupid pool. He spent his lunch, all thirty minutes of it, running a water sample to the store and figuring out why the pool looks green today. And the sound of his voice. The sweetness of his offering. Well, it made me cry. I love that boy, I do.

60 minutes...

Finished second service at noon yesterday. Packed up my stuff, locked my office, looked for Kevin. Paced back and forth from entrance to entrance, called his cell, called home, called work. Repeated process. Scanned various parking possibilities. Repeated process. Began to panic at 12:45. That's right. 12:45. My cell phone rings. It's my guy. The one who was supposed to be in said service, the one who dropped me off nearly five hours prior. The one who had lost track of time, showed up to look for me at 12:30 and then drove to JK to call my cell phone. The one who, as we waited in Wendy's drive-through at 1:00, was consistently casting the blame for our failed rendezvous on me, the perfect one. The one who says he's waited on me enough over the years to call us square. I could live to be 500 and never completely understand his logic.

I will summon these feelings of frustration at my convenience for the next day or two. Just because I can. Make me wait an hour. The whole stinkin' place was locked down. I thought he was hurt or something. Cryin' out loud.

screaming flesh...

Some well meaning soul on the worship team one recent weekend suggested we look for opportunities to serve outside our area of ministry. Same soul suggested volunteering transportation for many of the area children who would be coming to VBS this year. Apparently they communicated this suggestion to the powers that be and last week I received a list of ten kids sans rides.

I quickly sent out a mass e-mail with addresses and request to each of the team members. Days passed. The week passed. No takers. Understandably there were many of our team already participating by leading worship, leading groups, preparing snacks etc. and a few others actually in the cast for the drama.

Except me.

Hesitant to hand the list back to an already overwhelmed registration director, I looked the list over and decided that with a little planning, a little car swapping with Kevin, and a little invested time of my own, I could well...help.

From here, I have decided to let my flesh scream a bit and suffice it to say that this week has been good for me. Nothing earth shattering I guess, but in my own world I had to acknowledge I'm not so different from that church down the street from the home Gil blogged about a couple months ago. I also acknowledge that it really doesn't take that much investment to be different from that church down the street from the home Gil blogged about a couple months ago. More intention than investment.

My deepest thanks to the well meaning soul...