Stupid monster.

So Beatrice the Hacking Cat was making "the noise" today. I began to chase her around the house (I really don't mean to go into so much detail about this, but you can imagine that a tile/outdoor incident is less of an issue than a multi-room carpet incident), and at some point- okay, it was when she decided to run behind the couch that is nearly impossible to move (you basically have to lie down completely with an outreached sponge of Pine Sol, which greatly increases the odds of falling prey to the four-year-old favorite of "Butts Up!")...
As I was saying, at some point I let out a "Stupid cat!" bellow.

But, ahh.
The four-year-old audience was close at hand. Much too close at hand.
"Beatrice is a stupid cat," he said thoughtfully.

Oh, man.

"I shouldn't have said that, Keefe. She's not a stupid cat. I was just angry because... (insert justification), but (backtrack from justification) I just had a bad attitude. I shouldn't have said stupid."

"Good call," he says.

"And even if you're angry, you shouldn't say stupid," I say.

"Can we say stupid if a monster is shooting fire at us?" he asks- in all seriousness.

"Yes," I respond. In all seriousness.

So, there you have it.
Another boundary defined.
Not sure if we've cleared up any heart issues, but I guess that's on me to respond more compassionately next time. (Pray for us. Especially if it happens in the middle of the night. Especially if the kids have already woken up in the middle of the night. Especially...okay, you might just want to pray for the cats).

And lest you think there's not a Bible verse for every situation, ah ha!

Proverbs 12:10
A righteous man has regard for the life of his animal, but even the compassion of the wicked is cruel.


(I will work on this. Honestly).

Let your light(s) shine.

Have a Christmasy post here this week.
Be well!

Foiled.

Having time to blog on Thanksgiving is- I know- a little weird. But the last pie is in the oven, the kids are napping before the big bash, and Kevin is seeing what he can accomplish in an hour on his car. My deepest thought right now is whether or not I should attempt reaching my toes to do something beautifying.

I signed up for pie duty this year because it is my favorite thing to eat. But I'm reconsidering this strategy for next year. I am not the most adept at this part of the meal. Kevin has to rescue my efforts probably every year, and probably every year I forget about this rescuing. I overfill the pie shells- he dumps some out on my behalf. I waddle and straddle about the 425F oven, jiggling pies and my overhanging stomach in oven-rack wrestling efforts, eventually gasping, "I can't do this!" He saves my life, and almost as importantly, the pies themselves.

But in my most morbid pie-related moments this morning, I realized that Kevin was at the park when I was supposed to line the pie crusts with foil about 20 minutes into the baking. Alright. Just breathe. How bad could this really be? I am an adult. I need not fear aluminum foil. But...but, I do! I do. I fear it. (How wide is the foil supposed to be? To use or not use potholders in the application process? It doesn't stick around the crust, but it's sticking to the innards of my pie...how do I correct for this? Is there a YouTube video I can quickly tap?).

So, inevitably, I did what any seasoned baker does when she realizes she's an adult with plenty of experience and sufficient insight into how this probably should work out- I panicked. And I began to get very, very religious about the matter. That verse about trials and tribulations was circling around in my brain...
And I didn't find it funny- but I have a feeling that for all of my praying, if there is a heavenly version of YouTube I am now on it.

Better run and foil the last pie...

Happy Thanksgiving to you!

Love,
jen

Thankful.

High point today?
Finding another pair of pants in the closet that fit below the belly.
Low point?
Getting mustard all over said pants.

Actually, those were neither my highest nor lowest points today- true as they were.

My actual highest point was doing an early morning walk in Rancho San Antonio with the fam- totally breathtaking. (God needs a name that praises Him for being an early bird- Morning Glory?).

I am also thankful for my amazing husband, hilarious kids, great family, rest, the crazy movements of New Baby, an inspiring worship service tonight, good friends, Wonderfully Made, heat, Diet Hansen's, health, peppermint tea, my well-loved (read: "falling apart but I'm not emotionally ready for another one") Bible, this Mac, good music, and fabulous socks.

And who needs to revisit a lowest point with so much blessing smacking me in the face?

Be still, my heart.
God is near.
And He is very, very good.


(Photo by Ed Batista)

Traversing the blog miles together.

Blogging some at the wonderful WM SCU site now- Have a look if you have the time, some really great conversation happening there!

Mall culture.

It's not hard to find us on Sunday mornings. We're drinking coffee, getting little people dressed, and off to church at a fairly predictable hour. And needless to say, I don't typically know what a lot of the world is doing during that same time frame on Sunday mornings.

But I'm pretty sure I can account for 87% of Bay area folks today.

Elle seemed a little sniffly so I opted out of church and decided to hit Old Navy with a last day coupon. I am so ignorant about Sunday morning shopping that I arrived and parked maybe a quarter to 10, naively (and happily) strolling Elle around until the certain open a few minutes later. But that opening never happened. Old Navy's, along with everyone else's gates, stayed shut. We had another hour to kill.

So we got some exercise in, checked out the fountain, and so forth; but the shocking thing was that the mall was PACKED well before any of its stores were open (save for Starbucks, Cinnabon, & Jollibee). People were doing homework, looking at their laptops, hanging around in the pay massage chairs, all of them waiting for an 11 am opening. This is Nov. 15! Nov. 15, I say. I think the economy is safe.

I talked with a woman about her husband being in Afghanistan for over a year, the short helicopter flights from one walking point to another because of potential bombs in the road. (Maybe you'll say a prayer for David Miller?). And if I'd tried, I probably could have had meaningful conversations with a number of other people doing the same thing, all in the same boat of waiting. Of waiting for something interesting beyond the numerous gates.

How would Jesus love on people at The Great Mall? He'd show up, for one thing. He'd pick up the tab here and there, He'd love on the totally stressed out cashiers without embarrassment. He wouldn't care if His line went 5 times slower than the other three lines. He'd ask people in line how they were doing. He'd smile, reach out in truth, love, and generosity. Those are my guesses, anyway.

May your mall culture this season be full of interesting opportunities to spread hope beyond the temporary gates and into the realm of the priceless.