E-mail to my sister

I want to post photos and memories from Christmas and my birthday and the recent wedding we got to participate in, but I haven't gotten myself together for that yet. So I'm posting this e-mail I sent to my sister earlier because it sort of captures this moment, this day, this stage...it all seems like a pretty big deal right now, but it's all fairly every day stuff that I fear I'll forget quickly. (I also edited it a little because I used too many exclamation points and it didn't seem dignified. Now that I'm 41 I must try to maintain my dignity at all times.)

Hey,

I am so enthralled with Ellen Langford's paintings! Thanks so much for the introduction. I looked at her website and there are about 52 works I want. I've tracked down the one called Thursday Morning and am considering buying it. We'll see.

There's no school for anyone tomorrow. Closed for cold...not really, I think it may be quite icy in the morning. Luke Logan is going to come spend the night with us. I need to take down the Christmas stuff, but all I want to do is cook soup and read, read, read. And drink hot chocolate.

Laura Lee's Slimming Secrets.

I hope you have fun with Kelli. We'll be watching the Championship Game, I expect. I can't decide who I'm really going to be rooting for.

I am watching what we call "regular tv," which means "not DirecTV," our local stations, to check to see if Petal schools are closed tomorrow. (Ella's school follows their lead...they're closed). "Jeopardy" just came on and it reminded me of Aunt Patsy and Uncle Sonny so strongly. I miss those days.

I love you,
Laura Lee

This is the painting I was talking about. Don't you think it would look so lovely upstairs in the playroom? Or in my bedroom? It's called Thursday Morning by Ellen Langford. Margie gave me an Ellen Langford calendar for my birthday and she (Ellen Langford) quickly became one of my most favorite artists. Margie was already one of my favorites...Margie, Raoul Dufy, Julian Merrow-Smith, Lisa Paris, Emily Patrick...and now Ellen Langford.

Thanksgiving

I meant to post this on Thanksgiving Day...I am late with it, naturally. But thanksgiving is appropriate every hour of every single day, isn't it? No less so today, two days after official Thanksgiving.

All of this is taken, verbatim, from our church bulletin from last Sunday, November 22, 2009. And I am giving it in the order in which I read it all. With each successive portion, I was reminded more and more to give thanks to our good God.

This first is from the last page of our bulletin. Whether a story, a short devotion, or a missionary update, it is written by Dr. Davis:

Don't you usually enjoy the Thanksgiving season? The cuisine is usually excellent, and it comes right before the one fruit cake in the world is given to someone else for Christmas. And the Lord seems to inundate us with reasons to give thanks. Lee DeHoog, in his last newsletter, told of a man named "Beloved" in Arabic. He lived in Tunisia. Over 20 years ago he heard the gospel on his radio, put his trust in Jesus. He wanted a Bible but didn't know where to get one. One day he recalled there was a Christian community in Egypt, so he took a bus all the way across Libya, and into Cairo and bought an Arabic Bible. Like a number of others, he thought he was the only Christian in Tunisia. He came back to Tunis, married, had children. His wife watched "Beloved" read his Bible; she was willing to listen to him talk of his faith but was unwilling to leave Islam to follow Jesus. This last July "Beloved" caught the last episode of a Christian Arabic satellite TV program. He couldn't believe his eyes! His wife said he began to cry. He was not alone. He called the number on the screen and talked to another Tunisian believer, who, of all things, invited him to something called "church"! His wife and children are now waiting to be baptized along with him. Can you keep from giving thanks?

But thanks comes from not-so-happy incidents. George Orjih, a Christian pastor in northern Nigeria, was beheaded probably last last July, because he refused to deny his faith and convert to Islam. But he spoke to a fellow Christian who had also been kidnapped (and who was later released); the two were lying side-by-side, tied up. George turned to his companion and said, "If you survive, tell my brothers that I died well, adn am living with Christ." Don't you have to give thanks for such God-steadied endurance?

But thanks springs up from what seem the most common bits of news. Here is a letter that comes from Australia. From a man who is almost 90. He's studying Psalm 57, preparing to speak at a retirement village service. He says he "commenced studying the Bible when I was converted at age 16 in a dusty musty Presbyterian Sunday School room." I write him back to say that I can't help thanking God for dusty musty Presbyterian Sunday School rooms!

This next is from the inside front page, to be read while preparing for worship. This one a quote from J.C. Ryle:

Let us mark, lastly, in these verses [=Luke 17:11-19], what a rare thing is thankfulness. We are told that of all the ten lepers whom Christ healed, there was only one who turned back and gave Him thanks. The words that fell from our Lord's lips upon this occaasion are very solemn: "Were there not ten cleansed? But where are the nine?"

The Lesson before us is humbling, heart-searching, and deeply instructive. The best of us are far too like the none lepers. We are more ready to pray than to praise, and more disposed to ask God for what we have not, than to thank Him for what we have.

Next, during the service, a Puritan prayer from The Valley of Vision prayed in unison by the worshippers:

Prayer of Confession and Thanksgiving

O God,
Thou has done for me all things well,
     hast remembered, distinguished, indulged me.
All my desires have not been gratified,
     but thy love denied them to me
     when fulfillment of my wishes would have
         proved my ruin or injury.
My trials have been fewer than my sins;
Thou has often wiped away my tears,
     restored peace to my mourning heart,
     chastened me for my profit.
All thy work for me is perfect,
     and I praise thee. Amen.

 How true, how true! "My trials have been fewer than my sins." Praise God for that!

And lastly, Psalm 138. The text for the sermon.

  ¹ I give you thanks, O LORD, with my whole heart;
   before the gods I sing your praise;
²I bow down toward your holy temple
   and give thanks to your name for your steadfast love and your faithfulness,
   for you have exalted above all things
   your name and your word.
³On the day I called, you answered me;
   my strength of soul you increased.
 ⁴ All the kings of the earth shall give you thanks, O LORD,
   for they have heard the words of your mouth,
⁵and they shall sing of the ways of the LORD,
   for great is the glory of the LORD.
⁶ For though the LORD is high, he regards the lowly,
   but the haughty he knows from afar.
 ⁷ Though I walk in the midst of trouble,
   you preserve my life;
you stretch out your hand against the wrath of my enemies,
   and your right hand delivers me.
⁸The LORD will fulfill his purpose for me;
    your steadfast love, O LORD, endures forever.
   Do not forsake the work of your hands.

This Week with the May Baby

All of the teachers at Ella's school went to a conference this week. She went to school from 8:00 to noon on Monday and then was out the whole rest of the week. Tuesday we went to Brookhaven to pick up the bridesmaid's dress for Haley's wedding. My mother met us there and we ate lunch with Grammaw and Uncle Mike. It was really fun and I am sorry I didn't have my camera with me because we drove around Brookhaven and saw all the important family sites, like the house where Grammaw was born and where she and Paw got married. I'm going to have to go back soon.

I begged Ella to let me take her to a movie one day, but she was set on having a pedicure...no wonder Kiper calls her "mini Laura Lee." There is a nail shop here that has a chair especially for kid pedicures. Here it is (poor photo quality, sorry). You can't see, but the chair has an attached dvd player, which played a weird oriental-type cartoon about Kimba, The White Lion.

Here are Ella's toes, post-pedicure.

She couldn't decide between a butterfly and flowers, so she had one of each. The lady told her to come back at Christmas and she'd do Christmas trees, snowmen, and candy canes. Sounds so fun, but I'm not sure I'm thrilled with this fingernail decorating trend I seem to be fostering!

Her other fantasy for this week was for us to eat at The Grand China Buffet. So we did. She had every Chinese-American version of chicken on her plate, but her favorite thing here, and at every Asian restaurant she patronizes, is the egg drop soup.

On Saturday, while the boys went to the Ole Miss-Tennessee game (and saw the Rebels win!) she had her friend Reed over to play and they had a wonderful time.

They played dress-up, they danced,

they painted, they rode skateboards,

they spied, they climbed.

  

It was very good.

Sunset on Providence

 I realize the title of this post is a little creepy, implying that our neighborhood (Providence) is dying out. Would "Sunset over Providence" have been better? At? In? Beside? From?

Well, this was the view that I saw when I pulled out of the driveway yesterday on my way to pick up one of The Three from a birthday party. It was so astounding that I stopped in the middle of the street (thankfully, no one was coming around the curve) and pulled out my phone to take a picture of it. It wasn't until later, when I cleaned out the mounds of detritus from the passenger seat, that I realized my actual camera was in the car with me.

Next post..."I wish I could Google my car"?

Grammar-snob Humor

I am helping give a baby shower for a friend of ours who moved to Hattiesburg fairly recently and is having her first girl after having two boys (just like us). I offered to take care of the invitations because I love paper and fonts and spending hours looking at the website finestationery.com. So I did them, and they came, and they are darling. They're ivory and have long green curly grass on the left hand side with a tiny fairy with silver wings perched on one of the leaves of grass, looking down on the words of the invitation below her. (The Three repeatedly pointed out to me that she is "nekkid!" and they're right, but she is tiny, so I hope it's okay to send these to the ladies in the church.)

The wording of the invitation begins "We are enchanted...the Blowings are having a baby girl!" (Name changed to protect the innocent.) Are you with me? The family's name is Blowing. There are two of them who are having a baby girl (or four, if you count the brothers). And I do realize now that perhaps "expecting" would have been a better verb if I wanted to imply that they're all having a baby, because, really, we all know that the mother is the only one who will actually be having a baby...am I getting bogged down here?

Anyway...the Blowings are having a baby girl...more than one Blowing...The Blowing Family, in fact. One Blowing...several Blowings. And that, my friends (who, if you even know about this blog, already know this is true), is the correct way to write the plural form of a family name. I know it's correct; I have the M.A. in English from the South's greatest university to prove it. And it is one of my pet peeves for anyone to write (or, worse, print) something like "Love, The Nelson's." It's just basic grammar, learned in third grade.

Wow. You'd think they never taught me not to belabor a point.

So, back to the story. When I typed the text for the invitation I made sure I had it right, and when the printers sent me the proof I made sure they had it right (that mistake has become so common, I have actually heard of it being changed wrongly by a printer!), and when I opened the box of finished invitations I looked to make sure it was right.

(Do you watch "Monk"? I'm reminding myself of a character on that show.)

It was correct. It said "The Blowings are having a baby girl!"

Now let me warn you...the following will only be amusing to the kind of English major/punctuation stickler who would give her children a copy of the book Eats Shoots and Leaves and expect them to find it as hilariously funny as she does...in short, to me.

And, thankfully, also to Laura (name un-changed to expose the guilty.)

I texted Laura, since she's the Head Hostess of the shower--she's the one who thought of having one; and I told her how insanely cute the invitations are. She registered approval. Then I remembered that she is also a fairly educated girl (though it must have happened in Memphis instead of at her...they call themselves a...university) with a finely-honed sense of humor (that's what I'll call it, at any rate, since it's similar to mine). The Good Doctor was reading the paper and watching Fox News and I figured I should stir up a little humor for myself and the September Baby who was sitting with me because, as I've said in the previous 52 paragraphs, children should be taught early to scorn those who use bad grammar...

Oh, didn't I say that?

So I sent Laura text saying, "And btw, it IS correct to say, 'The Blowing's are having a baby girl,' isn't it?"

And I waited...I imagined that I could feel the tension and horror emanating through the cell waves, picturing Laura's shock and confusion, the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, her thumbs, quivering, hovering over the keys, her mind racing, trying to decide how to word her reply to me and whether she wanted her name associated as a hostess for a shower with such a glaring mistake on the invitations.

Win and I were giggling hysterically; I told Kiper the joke; he rolled his eyes and rustled his paper, saying, "It's just S; no apostrophe." (I do love a man who knows punctuation rules.)

"Well, duh! I know! That's why this is so funny!"

There was also a tiny moment of doubt in my mind...what if she didn't realize that was wrong? Would we be able to remain friends? After a couple of tense moments, I sent her another text saying, "Hahahahahahahaaaaaaa!" so she would know that I had been joking. At the same time, she'd finally decided what to say, and I got a text from her saying, "Umm...I think it's Blowings." This was quickly followed by a very relieved phone call from her. We laughed and laughed.

Ahhh...good times.

Now that I look back, maybe the title of this post should be "Grammar-snob Humor...An Oxymoron?"

Get it? More grammar humor! Hahahaha!

(And now, after all this, I have to admit that I am having nightmares that there may still be an as-yet-unnoticed typo on this invitation. And it will be all my fault. And I will die of shame.)

The Normal

Lately everything I have read--from the RUF blog to C.S. Lewis to a Christian girly-book about time management to, well, Paul Miller's A Praying Life--seems to be pointing me in the same direction...prayer is for All The Time. I need to pray, to coin a phrase (haha), "without ceasing."

Not just in huge crisis situations: surgeries, expensive business deals, job hunting, change of school decisions. Not just in situations that I feel I can't handle by myself (or want resolved more quickly than I could do it myself...what arrogance!).

I am to seek God, to talk to God, in the normal, the everyday, the ordinary activities of my life: soccer practice, football practice, allergy shots, grocery shopping, coffee with friends, carpooling, Bible study, homework, housework, meal planning...

Googling my house, Part 2

Since I can't actually google my house...no matter how long I sit here and kill time on the computer...I have had to find a different solution. It's called Cleaning Out and Putting Things Where They Belong.

And I think I have found the best way to do that...hire my organized and organizing friend Sarah to help me! (Well, actually, Sarah was the driving force...I was the helper.)

I could kick myself for not taking a "Before" picture, but really the final result is beautiful on its own without needing any contrast.

Look! Look at this closet! It is gorgeous! Aside from the quality of the photograph, it could be on the cover of Martha Stewart Living! I want to decorate it with flowers. I want to sleep in there on a pallet on the floor. I want my whole house to be this pretty.

I leave these closet doors open all the time now and just feel the order and peace wafting out over me like a benediction when I walk by.

Now, I know about entropy--that slide into disorder--but I wish it were the other way around. I wish that the rest of my house would, by osmosis, become more orderly because of the good example of this closet. But instead, the rest of the house looks even more slatternly by comparison.

 Ick.

Ugh!

So, I really hope Sarah will keep coming back and nudge, cajole...or whip...the rest of the place up to the same level of beauty and order as what is now known as the Pretty Closet.

Sarah?

Please call me back...

Please?