Be Intolerant

Warning: It may take several posts for me to get all of this out, so here is attempt #1.

Lately I've been noticing something that bothers me. It bothers me deeply...on a spiritual level. I have been grappling with this thought for months now: "What is with the current philosophy (especially among Christians) that speaking out against sin is being judgmental or intolerant?"

How many times have I heard lately (especially among Christians) these words: "How they live their life is their business." -or- "God knows their heart." -or- "God loves them just the way they are." -or- "It's not my place to say anything." -or- "I can't say anything. I might offend them."

I sincerely believe that this generation, my generation, is slowly being destroyed by what I call "pervasive tolerance." Everybody is okay. Everybody is living their life the way THEY think it is best. They are doing what is right according to THEM. We don't want anybody to feel bad about themselves. We're okay with people acting like complete heathens as long as they don't hurt anybody else. Afterall, who are WE to force our beliefs on them?

I know die-hard "go to church every time the door is open" so-called Christians who live like the devil all week and claim to be "holy" when the time is right. No wonder people are unimpressed with our churches today. Go ahead, call me judgmental and intolerant. I am just calling a spade a spade.

Clang, clang. Here ye, here ye! Doing what feels good for you is called "moral relativism." Moral relativism means everything is "relative," even right and wrong. Right and wrong is not relative to you, cause it's not about you. It's about Jesus, His life, His sacrifice, His words of truth, straight from the Word.

If your ideas don't line up with His ideas and your thoughts don't jive with His thoughts, guess who's in the wrong?

Clue: It's not Him.

....to be continued....

Daydream Believer

Today.

Today was one of those unbelievably beautiful days that make you glad to be alive.

When you live in Texas and the weather is unbearably hot, humid, and yucky 90% of the year, you are down on your knees thanking our good Lord for days like today.

The sky was blue...the kind of blue that is deep, ethereal, and surreal. The air was crisp and cool. The breeze was blowing across your face and it felt like God himself was kissing your forehead.

 

This was the kind of day that makes you want to grab your softest long-sleeve shirt, throw on your most comfortable pair of stone-washed overalls, go to your grandma's house, and just lay on your back in the lush green grass while staring into the heavens.

 

Well, I'm glad to see Sydney's got the right idea.

 

 What a day.

 

'Atta Boy

If you have the answers to this unexplicable mystery, PLEASE leave a comment that will enlighten my feeble brain.

Let me set the stage.

My husband decides to do dinner. He goes to the store, buys the items he will prepare, and then comes home to begin "cooking." He is grilling a couple of steaks and throwing a couple of potatoes in the oven. Simple, good, and appreciated.

He sets the table and lays out the silverware.

During the meal, I hear, "Do you like it? Does it taste good? What do you think? Do you see how I set out the plates? Did you notice I put out your silverware and the glasses? Were you impressed with how I got the grated cheese out of the refrigerator? What do you think? Did I do good or what?'

I assure him repeatedly that everything tastes fantastic and that I love the fact that he set the table and placed the grated cheese out for my easy use. I again brag, reinforce, and encourage, because after all that's what a wife does and I was truly appreciative of his effort to prepare a meal.

But, can someone please explain to me why something that I do EVERYDAY (2-3 times a day) without fail, without being asked, without thanks, but with a joyful heart, is magically something that deserves accolades, applause, and approval when it is done by my man?

'Atta Boy. Gotta love him.

Top Ten Thursday Thoughts

Presenting Top Ten thoughts rolling around all willy nilly inside my brain this evening....And here they are for your reading pleasure.

#10 Why am I making exactly 2 dozen cookies tonight for my class tomorrow? Why didn't I make more? I have exactly enough for each darling to have 2 cookies, but I really want a cookie right now and they smell so good but I dare not eat one because then I will be short. Should I eat one and hope that one of my students is absent tomorrow? Hmmm...

#9 Why on earth did Sydney decide that a nap was not in her plans today? Doesn't she know I depend on that 2 hours of quiet bliss during which I accomplish all of my junk that I dare not attempt to do while she is breathing and standing upright?

#8 Tomorrow is Friday. Hallelujah, praise je to Besus, and pass the biscuits.

#7 If I snap my fingers really hard, close my eyes, say a prayer, click my heels together, and touch my nose, I really think those dishes in the sink will dance their way into the dishwasher. I think it is worth a try.

#6 Is there a reason why my refrigerator has turned into a bulletin board? Must I secure every valuable piece of paper and receipt to my cold storage food box with a vegetable shaped magnet? Surely there is a file drawer somewhere in which these items would be more comfortable. My fridge looks like a desk threw up on it. I've got to do something about that...

#5 How many days are there until Thanksgiving Break? Hours? Minutes?

#4 Am I good mother? Am I doing everything right for Sydney? Is she lacking for something? An article of clothing or pair of shoes? A toy? A stimulating brain-activating item that I have yet to supply for her? Do I hold her enough? Rock her enough? Talk to her enough?

#3 I really need to log on Gevalia.com to order our Holiday coffees, and pronto. That's super important, right up there with keeping the toilet paper supply stocked.

#2 Maybe I should've paid closer attention during high school chemistry seeing as how I have to teach my darlings how to balance chemical equations in the next few weeks...UGH...

and..............the # 1 thought wandering amuck in my brain...

What is this painful little bump on my index finger? I sure hope it's not a wart.

The Entertainer

Behold, the night time ritual...

If Anyone Could

If anyone could

make wearing footed pajamas like THESE

and a hat like THIS

while sitting in a hot pink bucket

reading a book

look GOOD...

It would

 be...

SYDNEY.

A.K.A.

Sydvicious

Syd "Cuban Pete" Chambers

Sydmeister

Sydney Lou Lou

I call it vanity.

She calls it CONFIDENCE.

Alive...barely

If you have not had the Stomach Bug of 2010, count yourself lucky. What can I compare it to?

Getting your toenails plucked out one by one with a searing hot pair of pliers?

Feeling like you are the sole survivor of a tragic farming accident involving you and one of those big tractor thingies?

Experiencing stomach cramps that can only be compared to the contractions you might have delivering quintuplets naturally?

Having a debilitating wave of nausea overcome you with just the glimmer of a thought of maybe viewing a piece of fried chicken?

Fighting back the urge to smack your husband when he finally arrives home from work, runs out to get you a new 2 gallon bottle of Sprite, and then questions..."Why did you not drink this?"

Yes, all of the above and then some.

I have survived the stomach bug...it kicked my hiney...but I am still alive. Barely.

I Would Have Laughed

Those that know me KNOW that I am little kid person.

Not a tiny kid person, but a LITTLE kid person.

I enjoy the 7-9 year-old range for various reasons.

Mostly because they are old enough to "know" something but still young enough to be "innocent."

As a teacher, you tend to gravitate towards a particular grade level due to your personal preferences, tendencies, and multiple personalities.

If you would have told me 5 years ago that I would be teaching a SELF-CONTAINED group of 8th graders and that I would be loving every minute of it, I would have rolled in the floor laughing...literally...I would have busted a gut cackling at such a preposterous statement.

I have never been fond of barely teenagers. There is just something about this age group that is disturbing, annoying, frustrating, mysterious, inconsistent, moody, disturbing, nauseating, curious, wonderful, obstinate....did I say disturbing?

I don't know if it is because I have such a small group, or if it is the fact that I have such an interesting group, or if it is the fact that we are self-contained, or if it is the fact that we spend so much time together that we feel like a big family, or if it is the fact that I work half a day, or if it is the fact that I have completely dived headfirst off the deep end of what was left of my sanity, or if it is the fact that I work at a great school, or if it is the fact that I have found my niche. Maybe it is a combination of all of these factors. But whatever it is, I am head over heels in love with these 11 people. These 11 people with all of their mood swings, idiosyncrasies, doubts, fears, sweet gestures, crazy outbursts, and hormones. There's just something about them that helps me to enjoy my job.

So, for today, I like them and I shall savor this moment.

'Cause tomorrow I may change my mind.

Multi-Tasking

These days, I feel like I spend 90% of my time multi-tasking. I did not realize that I could:

1. feed Sydney
2. load the dishwasher
3. listen to the news
4. grade papers
5. surf the web for a science video to show my students
6. prepare dinner
7. answer the phone
8. text my girls
9. wash clothes
10. dry clothes
and
12. fax evals to our therapists

All at the same time.

Now, if I could just figure out a way to change lightbulbs and mop the floor too, I will be in business.

Just need a pair of roller skates.

Hat Tale

Once upon a time, there was a little squirt of a girl who loved the outdoors with a purple passion. One of her favorite things to do was romp and stomp around her Gigi and Papa's backyard.

One day, as she was wondering about the lawn, she encountered a scraggly straw hat covered in assorted mildews and dust particles. This little squirt of a girl who has a profound antipathy for any type of head wear, head band, or any other object which encircles the cranium, snatched up this dusty treasure. She held the hat up to her mother and uttered, "Huh?"

Her mother responded, "That is Papa's hat. He wears it when he mows the grass to keep the dirt out of his hair." The squirt deftly replied, "Huh? Papa?" and succinctly slapped the hat on her head. With a flick of the wrist and a slight adjustment, the squirt ran off to play.

She continued to wear the hat for the rest of the afternoon and adjusted it frequently at any point it fell slightly askew.

She monitored the jacuzzi while wearing her lovely bonnet with the help of her clinically insane sidekick, Rags the Jack Russell terrier.

The little squirt sadly gave up the hat upon leaving the Yard of Endless Joys and shouted out of the car window, "Buh bye! Seeeee You!"

  

 The End

Call Me Irresponsible

In the past week, I have experienced the highest of highs and the lowest of lows.

I have made numerous trips to Lufkin to spend hours at the hospital.

I have wept for hours on end when I learned my mother had cancer.

I rejoiced for hours on end when I learned that the Lord had healed her of cancer.

I have done a lot of soul searching, praying, seeking, finding, and analyzing.

And, as a result of all of this emotionally draining, soul-sapping, rambunctious rejoicing, crying, and exulting, I have become extremely...

Lazy...

Irresponsible...

and a Grade A

Procrastinator.

Because...friends...

LIFE IS SHORT.

It is a vapor.

It goes by in the twinkling of an eye.

Papers I need to grade can wait.

Invoices can wait...for a while...

Dishes can rest peacefully in the sink...

while I GO play at the park.

'Cause tomorrow....

my baby will be all grown up

and I will have plenty of time to do all those OTHER things and you never know what tomorrow is going to bring...

So live every day as if it is your last

Because one day, 

 it will be.