That time a bird made me punch myself in the face

I hate birds.

Now, before bird watchers, bird lovers, and people who have birds as pets come after me with pitchforks and torches, let me clarify. I hate birds that are in a space I don't feel like they should be in.

For example, I work at a testing lab. And I used to file folders in a room full of filing cabinets. This room had a cement floor (no carpet), and no heating or air-conditioning vented in. Just a ceiling of pipes above my head. The problem with this room was that there was a giant hole in the wall that looked down into my lab's warehouse. The warehouse is where we have our shipping area and many times the "garage door" in our shipping area is open for part of the day. And sometimes, a bird flies in. One day I opened the door to go into the filing room and a bird left the pipe it was sitting on up by the ceiling and flew across the room. Remember that giant hole in the wall? It had flown into the warehouse, flown up into the filing room, and was hopelessly lost. I wasn't expecting to see a bird so I screamed, turned on my heel and SLAMMED the door from our offices into the filing room. I did not want that bird flying through the open door and into the office area! That little sparrow or whatever about gave me a heart attack.

Here's another example of birds in a space that I don't like. I think that birds belong in the sky, in the trees, on rooftops, and on electric wires. I do not like when birds are walking around on the ground. It seems unnatural to me. One of my quirks, I know. But if you want to make me nervous, put me in a city space with pigeons walking around with no fear of people. Geese? Ick, no. Do I get a little skiddish at birds walking around in a petting zoo area? You bet. It does not seem natural to me. Fly away, duck. Get in the water. Please don't walk behind me!

If I were ever to become a spy and were captured by the enemy, all they would have to do to torture me to give up spy secrets is throw me in a chicken coop. I'd sing like a bird. (See what I did there?)

Last week Husby was out of town. One morning I was carrying our daughter out to the car in the garage to leave for the day. Our garage is attached to our house. As I walked around the vehicle to get her into her car seat, a bird swooped down from the wall behind me and flew to the other side of the garage. Heart attack! I have several seasonal wreaths hanging up high on the garage wall and I switch them out on the front door as the seasons change. It had been sitting on one of the wreaths. You have never seen me strap my daughter into her car seat so fast. I was so scared that bird was going to fly into the vehicle. And I don't like being in a confined space with a bird! I had to go back into the house to get the rest of our bags and I turned around and the door into the house was open. I don't always get it all the way shut when going back and forth between the house and the garage. I screamed, "The door is open!" And ran as fast as I could and slammed the door behind me. The whole commotion caused my daughter to start crying in the car. I quickly gathered our bags that were sitting in the entry way and cracked the door, cautiously scanning the entire garage. There it was. Sitting on the garage door track. It was a sparrow or chickadee or something. I don't know. It was small. Which shouldn't be frightening, but small things move fast!

Most mornings I make at least two trips, sometimes three, back and forth between the car and the house. I call myself the "pack mule." I have a lot of junk to haul around. I have a bag for my daughter's day, with her food, blankie, diapers, wipes, an extra outfit, and maybe a favorite toy. But I also bring her diaper bag back and forth every day. On the days when my sister watches her, they sometimes run errands so a diaper bag is needed. Then I have my laptop in a bag. And my purse. And another bag with stuff I may need for my Mary Kay business or the administrative assistant job I do for my church. And finally, my lunch bag. Like I said, pack mule! Every bag has a place in our car, which is a routine I've perfected - placing each bag in the spot it's going to be easiest to grab when it is time for that particular bag to leave the vehicle. Some go in the back seat. Some go on the floor under my daughter's feet. And some go on the front seat.

But with the bird flying around my garage, the ultimate goal was to get into the vehicle as quickly as possible. There would be no walking around to the back door...walking around to the passenger side. So there I was, standing in the house, watching the bird through the cracked door. It was flying around. I waited until it landed on the garage door track again and made a break for it. I opened the driver's side door and tried to heave my bags into the passenger seat. But I couldn't get enough force, so I got in with the bags in my left hand. I couldn't close my door. The bags were in the way. So I heaved the bags over my body into the passenger seat. In doing so, I punched myself in the face. I slammed my car door and sat there with my heart racing. My daughter stopped crying.

I backed out of the garage and there was the bird. We have a three car garage and it was sitting on the track of the smaller garage door (the third stall). When I hit the button to put the main garage door down, it would fly around and land on a wreath up on the wall. When I hit the button again, it would fly around again. Over and over, every time I moved the garage door it flew. But it wouldn't get low enough to fly out the gigantic hole in the area it was stuck inside! Ack! Dumb bird! Come on! Just fly a little lower and fly out! It was clearly too scared to think reasonably. I sat there for a couple of minutes running the door slightly down and then back up again probably a dozen times. If any neighbors saw, I'm sure they wondered what in the world I was doing.

I finally had to give up and put the garage door down and leave. Later when I was in the office, I called Husby and told him what happened and that I punched myself in the face. He laughed. I laughed. Then I said, "That bird is still in there!" He texted his dad to go over to our house and see if he could let the bird out. My father-in-law went over and reported back, "No bird."

Oh yes, there was a bird in there somewhere. I knew it was still in there. When I got home that night I sat in the car for a good 20 seconds, scanning all areas around the ceiling. The coast looked clear, so I got my daughter out of the car as fast as possible and ran in the house. No bird in sight. That's when I was certain it was dead. But where it was, who knew.

The next morning I walked around scanning the floor and I found the dead bird. It was right under the wreaths. Even though I was looking for it and it was dead, it still scared me. I jumped and yelled to no one, "The bird!" Husby was coming home the next day and so I left it until he could dispose of it. I didn't want to even look at it. And even though it was dead, I gave it a wide birth every time I had to walk to the car.

Sorry you died, little bird. I wish you would have been smart and calm enough to fly out of the garage when the door was up so you could have gone up into the tree in the front yard where you belong! I hope your little birdie friends enjoy the seed we have in our three feeders, where I can watch them from the comfort of behind my house windows. Your birdie friends are cute when they are outside and when I am inside. Not so much when we are sharing a confined space together. Isn't it ironic that I have a graphic of flying birds on my blog page?

That one time I prayed with a complete stranger in the middle of the post office

Today I had an errand to run on my lunch break. I had to go to the post office to mail a small package. As I pulled into a parking space, I noticed a man lingering by the font door. I saw him drop something and I thought, "I hope he knows he dropped something." I was too far away to even tell what it was. As I got out of my car, I saw him stop and pick it up. He still kind of lingered - nothing out of the ordinary but him hanging around the front door was enough for me to notice him. He went into the post office. Another man with two boxes walked past my car as I was getting out and I followed the second man into the post office.

When I entered the post office, there was a line. The man with two boxes (let's call him Two Boxes from here on out) was immediately in front of me. The man who dropped something by the front door should have been immediately in front of him. There were two women at the head of the line. I was the last one in line.

Two postal workers were each at their stations behind the counter and they each were helping a customer. I saw the man who had lingered by the front door bypass the entire line and get in line directly behind a woman that was being helped at the counter. I have been to the post office enough times to know that if you wait in line and need a form when you get to the counter, most postal workers will tell you to step aside to fill out the form, but when you are done, don't get back in the main line. They usually let you come right back up to the counter. However, this man who cut the line had been outside, so I didn't think he had a form and had been instructed to skip the line.

I heard the postal worker say something to him and then say, "That is the main line back there. You have to wait there." Immediately the line-skipper was agitated. He started mumbling under his breath, his shoulders slumped, and he turned around. There was a gap of space between Two Boxes and the lady ahead of him. I think he had anticipated that the man was going to stop there, in the proper place in line, so he had not moved up yet. The line-skipper turned and started to get into the space where he should have been standing in line. The postal worker said, "No, the back of the line." I saw a flash in the line-skippers eyes and immediately I felt uneasy. The hair on the back of my neck stood up. Line-skipper was not happy. A few choice cuss words came out of his mouth. He turned to step out of line and get behind me and I said, "That's okay. You can stand in front of me. You walked in ahead of me." Two Boxes didn't say a word and didn't move. Line-Skipper said, "No I'll go to the back of the line." Except he added a couple of more cuss words. 

I don't know if it was because I had spoken to him, or what, but he started to talk to me. He said, "I don't want to wait in line. I'm having a bad day. I just need to change my address because I'm going to jail tomorrow. I'm having a really bad day. I'm having a bad life." It was becoming clear to me that this man may have some sort of mental illness because of his demeanor. That was the impression I was getting. I said, "They can help you at the counter. They will have the right form." He again repeated, "I can't do this. I'm having a bad day." That's when my heart started to pound. Immediately I felt a prompting, "Pray for him. Right now. With him. Out loud." I didn't want to. That's how I knew it was God telling me what to do! Usually He prompts me to do something I don't want to and I resist. But I thought, "No. Obey. Do what you're told." So I turned to the man and said, "Do you want me to pray for you right now?" A look of relief washed over his face and he nodded yes. I said, "What's your name?" He said, "Daniel." I wanted to make sure I heard him right so I said, "Daniel?" And he said, "Daniel Matthew..."and I couldn't catch his last name because he started sobbing. So I bowed my head right there in the post office line and prayed out loud for Daniel while he cried. I said just a few sentences. Something like, "Father, Daniel is having a tough time and we thank you that you are with him. Help him to get done what he needs to get done today. We know that you are here with us right now, in this post office. In Jesus' name, Amen." 

Oh my mercy, you guys. My heart was POUNDING out of my chest. I had never prayed for a stranger, with that stranger before! But I knew it was the thing I was put in that line to do. I was there to help Daniel stay calm. Emotions were running a bit high, so as I had prayed, I was trying not to get too choked up. 

As soon as I was done praying, I felt like I needed to reassure Daniel to keep him calm. I said, "We'll get you the right form. Look, there's forms right here." I stepped out of line and looked at the forms. I felt as though I was helping a small child who was lost from his mother. I kept repeating, "It's going to be alright. Don't you worry." I couldn't find the dumb address change form. Finally Two Boxes turned around and spoke up and said, "I think that's it right there." (I knew he had heard every word we had said.) I said, "Oh, look! Right in front of me!" Then Two Boxes said, "Or maybe it's just a flyer about doing it online." To which Daniel said, "I don't have internet." With two swear words thrown in for good measure. And he was still crying. I got back in line and said, "Don't worry. The postal workers will get you what you need." It was about this time the line started to move and another woman got behind Daniel in line. 

He asked me, "Do you think they'll arrest me if I go up to the counter, crying?" I said, "Nope. It will all be okay." Daniel turned to the woman behind him and started talking to her. I heard him say that he struggles with alcohol, that tomorrow he was going to a workhouse for 105 days, that the cops had beat him up, that he had broken his tailbone and three toes, and that he had a crappy life. Um, that's me really cleaning up what he actually said.

When I got to the front of the line the postal worker said, "Did I hear you say you need an address change form?" I said no, the gentleman behind me needs it. He handed it to the other postal worker, who handed it to Daniel as he approached the counter for his turn. He kind of chuckled that he didn't even need to ask - what he needed was handed right to him. They had him move to the side to fill out his form, so when I left, I stopped beside him and said, "Daniel, God bless you. I will continue to pray for you." Again, my heart was pounding because all of this was out of my comfort zone. He nodded and said, "Thank you," and that was that. The whole thing from start to finish took about three minutes but a lot happened in that three minutes!

I'm not writing about this so that I can say, "Look what I did." Because really, I didn't do much. But rather, I'm writing this to encourage someone today to listen to that inner voice. Whether you believe it's your "inner voice" or God telling you something, I encourage you to obey. Especially when it's a thought that you are maybe a little scared to take action on. I'm trying to be better at obeying the Holy Spirit when He asks me to do something spur of the moment. It's too easy to ignore it, or rationalize and think, "Oh that's silly. I don't need to do that." Or even, "Why would I do that?" How easy would it have been for me to think, "I'm not going to pray for this stranger," and just turn my back on Daniel? What if I had asked him if I could pray and he became more upset, cussing even more? But he needed someone to talk to and he needed some understanding. And it cost me nothing to give him a little encouragement.

Chances are I'll never see Daniel again or know his story. But if you think of it, could you say a prayer for him? It was so obvious that he is a hurting man who needs hope.

And we urge you, brothers, admonish the idle, encourage the fainthearted, help the weak, be patient with them all. 1 Thessalonians 5:14

It all started with a tube of lipstick...

It all started with the desire for a new couch. Actually, it started long before that.

My journey to having my own Mary Kay business started about 18 or 19 years ago. I think I was still in college. A friend of mine had a Mary Kay facial party around her mom's kitchen table. And I tried Mary Kay for the first time. Being a cash-strapped college kid, all I could afford was a $10 tube of lipstick. But that was kind of a big deal for me, because I had never worn lipstick before. It made me feel a little more grown up and maybe gave me a little confidence that this moving into adulthood and the real world soon wouldn't be all that overwhelming.

Over the years I attended a couple of Mary Kay parties here and there. I would sit at somebody's kitchen table and learn some make up tricks, as well as the benefits of taking care of my skin. I started using Mary Kay skin care in my late 20s and have rarely used anything else. I've tried other products, but have always come back to Mary Kay because it works best for me.

I've never been super-fantastic at makeup. I've always kept it pretty simple. But a few years ago I realized that every single make up tip I had heard, or every bit of information I knew about make up - I learned it all at Mary Kay facial parties. And the things that I learned had stuck with me for a long time.

Anyone remember this Mary Kay compact back in the day? Yeah, I had one.
Then they switched them to silver and I had one of those too.

Several years ago (maybe over ten?) I went to a Mary Kay pampering night with a friend that is a consultant. It was a team meeting where the guests got to try product and the consultants received training. The Mary Kay opportunity was shared with the group of guests. And I remember something that whomever was speaking said. She was speaking about the benefits of a Mary Kay business and she spoke about how the product was consumable. She said, "It literally goes down the drain." Meaning that all of the great product that customers bought eventually had to be replaced and this creates an on-going relationship with customers. At the time, the Mary Kay opportunity wasn't right for me. But I tucked that little gem of a truth away and hung on to it for over nine years!

In the meantime, I started in direct sales with another company. It's where I got my feet wet in running my own business. I learned about goal-setting, leadership, customer service, determination, drive, consistency, learning to get the "no's" that eventually will get you to those who say "yes." And I learned it all while making money, reconnecting with old friends, earning a vacation to Cancun, and making new friends. But after about six years, I was ready to call it quits. Before I could end my business on my terms, the company unexpectedly closed its doors. And I decided to take a break from direct sales for a while.

Life moved forward. My husband and I were expecting our daughter when we sold our condo and bought a house for more space. I found myself with a nice family room in the basement and no furniture to put in it. We got some free hand-me-down furniture that got the job done, but I wanted new. And matching. I didn't want to finance, I didn't want to run up the credit card, I wanted to walk into a store with the money already in my pocket. So, I decided to work for it. I was already working a full-time job, but most of those earnings were already ear-marked for other things in our budget. If I saved up here and there when we had some extra money, it would take me a lot longer to save than if I just worked more to earn money faster. But I needed a part-time job that didn't have a manager dictating my schedule. I was ready to jump back into the direct sales game, cannon-ball style.

My reason for starting my Mary Kay business  - my new furniture
and the bag that started it all.

I thought about all of the home-based businesses out there. I knew of a lot. I had to been to lots of different kinds of parties, had many friends in direct sales, and willing support women in whatever their home-based business may be. There are a lot of good companies out there. But I kept coming back to Mary Kay. That little piece of information I had heard all those years ago about selling a consumable product was a tiny seed in my heart that was now starting to sprout a little. With my previous home-based business, I was selling non-consumable items. So I had a lot of "one and done" customers. They bought something and I never saw them or heard from them again.

Another reason I landed on Mary Kay was that I had used Mary Kay products for years and was always happy with whatever I used. And getting a 50% discount on something I bought on a fairly regular basis over the years was a perk that I just couldn't pass up. I had been paying 100% like a chump! :)

After thinking about it for several weeks, the desire to start a Mary Kay business was not going away. I spoke with my husband about it. I prayed about it. The desire continued to stick around. So, with a full-time job and a six-month-old baby, I had lunch with my friend who is a consultant and had taken me to that pampering night years ago. I asked her if I could sign up under her. My Sales Director tells me I'm the only person she's met who recruited herself into Mary Kay!

Holding a skin care class in the conference room of my full-time job.
Treated my co-workers to facials and lunch!

I've been building my Mary Kay business for a year now. I just hit my first anniversary. And I LOVE it. My very favorite part of my business is getting together with a few women around a kitchen table and teaching them about skin care. Seeing the surprise on their face on how a simple makeup routine of a little foundation, mascara, and lip gloss can give them a whole new look when their skin looks good...it gets me every time. I love that I can play a small part in helping women gain a little more confidence. When a woman feels she looks good, the beauty that so many have inside comes radiating out. I always say when I'm walking someone through a Mary Kay facial, "Looking good on the outside does you no good when you are ugly on the inside. This isn't about slapping on some makeup. It's not that superficial. It's about helping you feel like you are becoming the best "you", inside and out." Some women don't like to wear make up. And that's cool with me. But everyone should be taking care of their skin, because you don't get second chances with it. God didn't create us to never age - that's not His plan. But I can help slow down that aging process a little bit, if that's what someone is looking for. I can help someone protect their skin from the sun. I can help someone smooth out their skin. I can help someone get their skin looking fresh and bright. Introducing someone to that is my FAVORITE part of my job. If I can play a small part in helping women feel great and realize their potential, sign me up!

Another favorite aspect of my business is that my customers can try before they buy when they let me walk them through a facial. I also love that my company has a 100% satisfaction guarantee and that no one will end up with a drawer full of buying mistakes. If they don't like something, they can return it to me for a full refund. No risk. How many things in life are no risk? Not many!

Holding a skin care class around a picnic table at a
campground while on a family vacation!

Of course there isn't one company out there that will work for every single person. That company does not exist. For some people, Mary Kay might not be the product for them. And that's okay. But for so many women over the past 50 years, it has worked. And it keeps women coming back for more. Brand loyalty is strong with Mary Kay. I've been using it for about 18 years!

41 year old skin! Ready to head out to a Mary Kay event.

I'm not going to lie and say that everything this past year in my business has been 100% awesome. I've had to deal with a lot of emotional management when it comes to my business. Much more so than I ever did when I was with a different direct sales company. I have been disappointed by people. I may have shed a few tears. I have not always conquered my fears or procrastination when they have held me back. There are things I've tried with my business that have failed. There have been roadblocks what I have yet to overcome. There are parts of this Mary Kay business that put a spotlight on my weaknesses. But the good overwhelms the bad! I met my goal of buying a new furniture set. I had money in the bank when we had an unexpected home expense. I have met wonderful women at home skin care parties. I have made new friends with other consultants. I've learned about myself through training. I've learned new information on make up application (where I can always use improvement). I have received so much JOY from this business.

Mary Kay has been around for 50 years. And there's several reasons for that. It is a company that continually strives to keep up with new trends - this isn't your momma's Mary Kay of the 60s, 70s, and 80s! It's an innovative company. It's a company that instills family values and encourages women to grow in their faith (if that's their thing). It's a company that believes in treating others right - the Golden Rule is HUGE in the Mary Kay culture. It's a company that doesn't leave consultants in the dust - there is always ongoing training. I am so glad that I am a part of it and I eagerly anticipate where God will lead me through my Mary Kay journey!

That time the sandwich shop guy made me cry

I rarely go out for lunch during the work week. 99% of the time I bring my own lunch - pretty much leftovers or a salad made at home. But occasionally, I go grab lunch somewhere near my office because nothing at home appeals to me to bring for a lunch.

Several weeks ago my husband had to go to Indonesia for work. He had a connecting flight in Australia and had a bit of a layover there. While he was there, he used our joint credit card. Because of that, our account was flagged and frozen. It was unknown to me, as it happened in the wee hours of the night, back here in Wisconsin.

That morning I decided to have the rare treat of getting out of the office to grab lunch. There is a sandwich place just down the road from my office. And because there isn't really any "fast food" places near my office, this place is usually my default place to go. They do have good sandwiches. I've been there many times in the nine years I've been working at my office.

Just before lunch I was cleaning out my wallet and for reasons I don't remember, or can't even fathom what I was thinking, I took my cash and my bank card out of my wallet and set them on my desk. I really can't remember my reasoning. I think I was planning at stopping at the bank after work, but I don't know why I took my cash and card out. I rarely use my bank card, but always have it with me. Except this time.

I ordered my sandwich, chatted with the cashier a little, then handed over my card to pay. He told me my card was declined. Automatic panic from me. That is a horrible, sinking feeling. My first thought was, "Someone stole our information and maxed out the card." Then I remembered that my husband had a layover in Australia. I said to the cashier, "My husband is traveling home from Indonesia and I bet he used the card at his stop in Australia. It must have been flagged." In my heart of hearts, I was certain that was the problem. Then I remembered that I had taken my bank card and cash out of my wallet and I had NOTHING. Another sinking feeling. I was so embarrassed. I said, "I have no other card or cash. I can't pay for this." My sandwich was made by now and waiting for me at the end of the counter. "I have to leave my lunch here," I said. As I was saying these words the cashier reached in his back pocket, took out his wallet and swiped his card so fast that I barely had time to protest. "Don't worry about it," he said. "No," I said, "you don't have to do that." "Too late. I already did it." Tears instantly sprung to my eyes. Out of both gratitude and embarrassment. "No," I said through tears. I could barely look at him. "Yep," he said, "Have a great day." I whispered, "Thank you," because anything above a whisper would have been the sound of a crying mess. I kind of half nodded at the additional two workers behind the counter and said, "Thank you," without trying to look them in the eye too much. I was so embarrassed that I was so emotional over the whole thing. I was in a vicious cycle of embarrassment!

I have paid for strangers' meals before, but I have never had a stranger pay for mine. It was a random act of kindness that I'll never forget.

Until we meet again, Aunt Mary

And now it's time to write the blog post that I've been dreading for a few months now: a tribute to my Great-Aunt Mary. She went to heaven Friday evening, finally letting go and leaving us to remember her.

Aunt Mary was my grandpa's only sister and she was the last one of my grandpa's immediate family. She now joins her parents and two brothers in Heaven. A few months ago, when she was almost 91, she was diagnosed with cancer. So she spent her last few months here on Earth, in hospice care at home, with her husband, Clarence. When I found out she was ill, I cried often and the sadness would catch me off guard, at odd times.

Aunt Mary and Uncle Clarence

Aunt Mary was joyful all of the time. She always had a smile on! She had a sharp sense of humor and a bit of a quick wit. One of her gifts was making you feel important when you had a conversation with her. She was interested in what the other person was saying, and she often touched you as she spoke - an arm around you, or her hand on yours. She was one of the most sincere people I have ever known. The funny thing is, as I think about it, I don't think I ever had a one-on-one experience with Aunt Mary. Every time I saw her, it was at a family function with dozens of people around. But just having a one-on-one conversation made me feel like I was the only other person around her.

Talking with Aunt Mary in our receiving line at our wedding reception.

She had the steadfast trust and faith in Jesus that many believers strive for. She often spoke about her faith and would weave it into conversation. She was just covered with the joy of Jesus. You could see it in her dancing eyes.

Growing up, "Aunt Mary's Cabin" was a summer tradition. Every year, my family would drive up near Spooner, Wisconsin, on the first Sunday in August and spend the day at Mary and Clarence's rustic little cabin. No bathroom, just an outhouse. A tiny kitchen, One bedroom where the girls would change into their bathing suits. The boys changed out in the shed. There was a small screened in porch and my favorite feature of the cabin was the two-person bench swing that hung from the ceiling. The roof of that room was open beams where you would find life jackets and canoe paddles stacked up there. The gathering was always a pot luck with lots of food, followed by some swimming and maybe a speed boat ride. This gathering of Aunt Mary's family, my grandpa's family, and their brother, Arden's family had been happening every summer, at the same place, since my dad was a kid. As the years went by, the group of people grew as the generations got married and had children. Uncle Clarence would often direct all of the cars as to where they should park as we crammed onto the lot. Every year, after the swimming was over and people were ready to leave, Aunt Mary would have each family gather and take their photo. Every single person that was there, every single year. She loved her family! Several years ago we moved the reunion to the cabin that my dad and his brother co-own. Aunt Mary and Uncle Clarence were too elderly to host any longer. But they still came to our cabin.

So I saw Aunt Mary at least once a year - always a guarantee at our "Paulson cabin" day. But I would often see her several times a year - at family weddings, graduation open houses, or bridal showers. She always had time to chat with me, catching me up on her kids and three grand-daughters. She was so proud of her family! They really were her pride and joy.

Having a conversation with Aunt Mary

When I became a bride in 2011, Aunt Mary gave me one of my most treasured positions. She gave me a blue plate that had belonged to her mother, my great-grandmother. I never met my great-grandmother. She passed away when my dad was in jr. high. The plate was given to my great-grandmother by her sister. And Aunt Mary kept it for years, finally passing it down to me. I treasure it and it is displayed in my kitchen as a reminder of the women who came before me and loved their families, raising them to be kind people who love Jesus and serve others. I work to carry on the legacy with my family.

The gift of a plate that belonged to my great-grandmother

Last year, Aunt Mary had a 90th birthday party. She was in fine form. She was still in good health -  moving around as though she was a spry 70-something, instead of the 90-year-old she had become. She was mingling with everyone there to celebrate her well-lived 90 years. Her children told her life story and we were all so happy to honor her in the way she deserved. She of course was joking around, connecting with her loved ones, being her usual joyful self. And she wore a crown the entire time. It was a wonderful party and I'm so glad I got to be there.

When I found out that Aunt Mary had fallen ill, I sent her a card. I sat at my kitchen table and let the tears roll as I wrote to her and told her that I want to be just like her - joyful in Jesus, having a positive attitude, and fiercely loving those people God has blessed me with and given to me as family.

At Aunt Mary's 90th birthday party

I will miss you Aunt Mary. But as you have trusted Jesus as your Savior and I have done the same, we are daughters of a King and will reunite some day in Heaven. I am certain that when you met the arms of Jesus, He said to you, "Well done, my good and faithful servant." A life well lived that continues on in the hearts and memories of those who loved you so dearly.

Aunt Mary and Uncle Clarence

A bridal shower for a book worm

A few weeks ago I was a co-hostess for a bridal shower for my cousin, Heather. In thinking about Heather and what she's all about, watching her grow up, and spending time with her over the years, I decided to throw her a themed shower and the choice was obvious. Heather loves reading. When she had her Senior pictures taken a few years ago, she had some really cute poses with books. She has been an avid book reader, devouring hundreds and hundreds of books.

One search for book themed showers on Pinterest and all sorts of ideas are out there. I decided to keep it simple, on a small budget, and not go overboard.

I started with invitations. I wanted invitations made out of actual library cards in a jacket, but for the number of invitations I needed, it was too expensive. But I found a great designer on Etsy.

The link to these invitations on Etsy is here: http://etsy.me/1QFD8gH

It is a pdf file and the seller was very easy to work with. After a few correspondence back and forth, she sent me the pdf and I printed them myself on cardstock, cut them down, and tossed them in envelopes I already had in my craft stash.

I stuck a note in each invitation and asked that each guest bring their favorite book to the shower. I assured them that the book would be returning home with them. When guests arrived to the party, we stacked up the books. When it was time for Heather to open the gifts she had to chose a book off the pile and try and guess which guest had brought the book. Then when the owner was revealed (if she didn't guess correctly) she opened the gift from that person. It made the gift opening interactive, but after getting a few wrong, Heather was over the guessing. She was a good sport and finished the pile.

For decorations, we tried to keep it cheap and simple, and within the theme of books. I found an old paperback book in my personal library and ripped out pages. Then I cut the pages into about 2" wide strips and made a couple of paper chains. We hung the long one across the living room window and a shorter one across the fireplace mantle.

I made a banner from book pages that said, "Happily Ever After." I printed out a large font, cut out the letters, traced them onto a book page, cut out the letter from the page, cut squares for the backing, glued the letters to the squares, punched 2 holes in each square, and threaded it all onto a ribbon.

I couldn't get a good shot of the whole banner, so here it is in pieces.

We had a couple of tables out on the deck, so to dress up the tables a little, I made simple centerpieces from objects around the house. I took the dust jackets off of hard cover books and stacked items on top of them. All I was looking for were books with a good color...I didn't want all of them to be black or gray. Snoozeville!

Simple Spring arrangement on top of a couple of books.

Tea light candles inside Ball jars. Dried split peas were my filler. All stuff I had around the house!

In the kitchen, we placed a small Spring arrangement on top of a couple of books.

The final decoration to pull our book theme together was a dessert stand I made. 

Do you think there may have been a little bit of butter in those cookies?

It cost me a whopping $2.60 to make the dessert stand, thanks to Goodwill. I bought three books for 20 cents a piece and two glass taper holders for a dollar each. When looking for books, I looked for books that were a nice color under the dust jacket, and I bought a large for the base, a medium for the middle, and a smaller one for the top. Then I used Gorilla Glue to glue the candle holders in between the books. Otherwise the stand would have been far too tippy. 

We put the dessert stand on the food table as the main centerpiece. I found the letters and ampersand on the top at a boutique. They are made from books! Someone just took old hard cover books and used a saw to cut the books into letters. Genius! This was my gift to Heather for her to keep for her new home. 

I toyed with the idea of having the food be book themed, but I decided I had enough of the theme tied in so we just made food we thought would be good. Hot ham and cheese sandwiches, veggie platter with dip, a cheese ball and crackers, a seafood pasta salad, fruit salsa with cinnamon pita chips, brownies, fruit puffs, small cookies, and little fruit tarts. A big thank you to my aunt, my cousin, my sisters, and my mom for making the food and punch!

We played only one game, and of course it was book themed. I came up with a list of 20 pairs from literature and the game was to match them up. Some pairs were romantic, some were friends. Some examples were: Jay Gatsby & Daisy Buchanan, Scout Finch & Dill Harris, Katniss Everdeen & Peeta Malark, Huck Finn & Tom Sawyer, etc.

Congratulations to Heather!

Little Fish

Where have you been, Little Fish?

When my husband and my father-in-law painted our bathroom, they found a little plastic fish under the vanity. It belonged to former homeowners. My husband washed it with a sink full of dishes and it sat on our kitchen counter for a couple of weeks. I asked, "Why are you keeping that thing?" He said, "I think it's cute." It obviously was some sort tub toy. I asked, "What are you going to do with it?" Meaning, "Get it off the counter." He said, "I dunno." So it sat for another week. I got tired of looking at it, so one day I grabbed it and put it on his pillow on his side of the bed. He put it on his nightstand. Then I got tired of looking at it on the nightstand. So I put it by his toothbrush in the bathroom. And the game started. We take turns hiding Little Fish. I never know where Little Fish will turn up. He has been hidden in dresser drawers, on a pile of t-shirts on the closet shelf, he has even stowed away in a backpack when my husband flew out of town. I can't remember what city Little Fish traveled to. It may have actually been another country.

Some times there are big gaps of time between hiding Little Fish. I kind of forget about him. In fact one time I thought, "What was it again that we were hiding from one another?" I couldn't even remember that he was a little red fish. Then he suddenly popped up in an unexpected place.

I have a shelf full of Starbucks mugs from around the world that my husband has been collecting for me on his work trips. This morning I grabbed a coffee mug halfway back on the shelf, and there he was. Under San Francisco. Nice to see you, Little Fish. Where will you hide next? We are having to get more and more creative in our hiding spots. Who knows how long this game will last!

My daughter's birth story

I have been wanting to write down the story of my daughter's birth for a long time now. I should have done it when it was fresh in my mind. But with a newborn, sitting down and blogging was waaaaay low on the priority list. And then life happened. And then I would think about it, but not set any time aside to actually construct the story. But now seems like a good time to tackle this project in my mind's "to do" list. Especially because our little peanut is almost a year old.

One year ago today I went to the doctor for a routine "toward the end of pregnancy" checkup. I was five days away from my due date. My husband came with me and we heard the heart beat. The doctor chatted with us for a few minutes and then said, "Do you feel ready to have this baby? Would you like to be induced tomorrow?" Earlier in my pregnancy I was diagnosed with gestational diabetes. I was able to keep my blood sugar numbers under control by diet alone, as my numbers were on the low end of diabetes and I was border-line diagnosed. But the doctor wanted to make sure that the baby wouldn't get too big. Because of my diagnosis, I think we had a total of 4 ultra-sounds, the last one being just a couple of weeks before the due date. So, the doctor was confident that the baby was healthy and fully developed. He said the baby had a strong heart beat and if I wanted to deliver, I could deliver tomorrow. Being the planner that I am, having bags packed, and not a big fan of uncertainty, I was all for it. I was physically and mentally ready to have my baby. I was beginning to dilate. The baby was in the head-down position. So, we set it up to come in at 7:30 the next morning to be induced. My husband and I actually walked down to admitting after the appointment and did all the paperwork needed so that the next morning, all we had to do was walk in and be admitted. My doctor told me that I could change my mind at any time, in case I had second thoughts overnight. He said, "We can call it off at any time, up until I break your water. Once I break your water, there's no going back."

That night we called our family members and told them the plan. We texted a few close friends to let them know the plan, but we didn't "go public" on social media. We laid in bed and talked about how it would be our last night in our house as "just the two of us." We prayed together. Then we tried to get some sleep.

The next morning, January 8, we were up before the alarm went off. Today was the day. Today was the day we were going to bring a life into the world. We called the phone number admitting had given us to make sure there wasn't a rush of pregnant women delivering during the night. "Do you have room for us?" "Yes, we have room. Come on in." (Quite the opposite of what Mary and Joseph experienced with the birth of Jesus!) I told my husband to wear the same t-shirt he was wearing the day we were engaged. We liked the idea of big life events happening when my husband was wearing a t-shirt that had a boxing kangaroo on the front. :) We knew right where to park, what door to go in, and who we needed to see. We got to the hospital around 7:30am and I think I was in my delivery room by 8:00am. Around 9:00am my doctor came in to break my water. He double checked that I was still confident for "all systems go" and I was. No going back now. Gush. Water broken. And the waiting began. We spent most of the morning and early afternoon walking the hallways of the hospital and I bounced on an exercise ball in an effort to get the labor process moving forward.

At some point during the day, I was given pitocin via an IV to get things moving. The nurses had a really hard time getting into a vein in my arm. After trying both arms a couple of times, by a couple of different nurses, the IV was inserted on the side of my wrist, directly below my thumb. That also took a couple of tries and I still have tiny scars on my wrist. My battle wounds. :) No one would ever even notice them but me. I see them.

Around 2:00pm the contractions were getting fairly intense. I went into my labor fully knowing ahead of time that I would get an epidural if at all possible. I am not the kind of woman that wanted an all-natural child birth. Absolutely nothing against any woman who do, more power to you. I went in knowing I would take the pain meds. I would have a c-section if necessary. Some women are determined to give birth with no meds and some are so disappointed when they have to have a c-section, as though their body failed them because they couldn't give birth "naturally." I had told my husband ahead of time, "There's no trophy given to you by the hospital if you give birth with no epidural. I'm totally pro-epidural." And so, around 2:00pm, five hours after my water was broken, I was ready for the drugs. Thankfully, the nurses were able to catch the anesthesiologist shortly before he had to go into surgery. However, it still took a while for him to come to my room, get the epidural in my back, and get it working. So, I had some pretty intense pain for about an hour. By 3:00 I was in bed with my meds and I wasn't going anywhere. So now instead of walking around, I was to stay put.

So, we sat. And we waited. My husband sat next to my bed and read a book. I had the TV on for noise, but didn't really watch it. We listened to CDs. We chatted. A few times throughout the day my husband texted our family and a few friends with updates, but once I was given the epidural, there wasn't anything to report. For a long time. A really long time. The first shift of nurses left and a second shift (the night shift) came in. We met new nurses. We chatted with them. My husband told two of them the entire story of how we met and how we were engaged. I had written some Bible verses on some cards to help get me through my delivery, so a couple of times my husband pulled out the cards and read the verses to me. In preparation for my delivery I had gone to the local candy store, purchased some salt water taffy, put it in little cute jars and attached a note that said, "Thank you for helping us welcome our sweet baby into the world." I brought in 10 jars to give to the doctor and the nurses who helped deliver and then care for my baby. We gave the first jar to the anesthesiologist and he was so pleasantly surprised. We gave them to the first round of nurses I had. And then the second round. They were a hit.

I laid in bed with a monitor hooked to my belly with a belt. I had my pitocin IV in one wrist. I had a heart monitor clipped to my big toe. And I had a blood pressure cuff that squeezed the dickens out of my arm every 30 minutes. At times that blood pressure cuff really hurt, but most of the time it was not that bad of a squeeze. I dozed on and off throughout the day. I was checked a few times for dilation. I had not budged from 4 cm all day. And the hours went by. And eventually it was nighttime. And I was still stuck at 4 cm.

A sad, pathetic cot was brought into the room for my husband to sleep on. The hospital was about to get new furniture and they had tossed some of the couches for sleeping daddies, so there was a shortage on couches. They didn't have a spare to roll in. My poor husband tossed and turned on that cot all night. He slept by a window, in January, in Wisconsin, during the "Polar Vortex" so the air under the cot was cold and kept him awake. I slept horribly. My pitocin was turned off for the night, in hopes that when it was turned on in the morning it would work. I had that darn blood pressure cuff squeezing my arm every 30 minutes, so the longest I could doze was 30 minutes. I think I did get a solid hour once, as I slept right through the squeeze one time.

The next morning my husband got up, took a shower, and ate some breakfast. My pitocin was turned back on. Another shift of nurses came in. Three shifts of nurses and I wasn't even pushing yet! Ugh. And we were running out of candy jars to hand out! It was decided that the baby needed to be monitored more closely. So I was losing the wires on my stomach and they were now going inside, to be attached to the top of the baby's head. A nurse came in to do this about an hour before my doctor was to come in to check on me. As she attempted to get the monitor on the baby, she said, "I don't know what this sack is here. It almost looks like you have another water sack to be broken. I'm going to have the doctor take a look. Oh shoot. I just poked it and it's gushing fluid. It's like you had another water to break." Or something like that is how the conversation went. The monitor was on the baby and an hour later the doctor came. He checked and I was dilated to 6 cm, which he was happy for because he said he was prepared to talk c-section with me if I was still at a 4 cm, almost 24 hours after he had broken my water. Things were finally starting to happen!

At some point mid-morning, I started to get hot. And uncomfortable. I would naturally slide down the bed, and the nurses would have to heave me back up the bed, but I couldn't feel my legs because of the epidural. I was dead weight. So I had to grab onto the bed rails and pull as hard as I could as the nurses moved me up the bed. My arms were getting sore from doing that a few times. I was hot and felt funny. My temperature was taken. Fever confirmed. I was told that happens sometimes when a laboring woman is checked for dilation several times. So, another IV for the fever in my other wrist. Another scar directly below my thumb. Then I got cold. So cold that I was shaking. I could not stop shaking. My teeth would chatter. I would will myself to stop shaking and I could stop for about 5 seconds but then would start shaking again. I had blankets piled on top of me. This continued for several minutes, maybe 15. I finally told my husband, "Get the Bible verses. Read them to me." And he read the following verses to me over and over and I would verbally declare, "Yes," or I would repeat part of the verse. I think he read the following verses over me for a solid 20 minutes or so:

For God did not give us a spirit of timidity, but a spirit of power. 2 Timothy 1:7

He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak. Isaiah 40:29

The Lord himself goes before you and will be with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged. Deuteronomy 31:8

The Lord is my light and my salvation - whom shall I fear? Psalm 27:1

He fulfills the desires of those who fear him; he hears their cry and saves them. Psalm 145:19

But as for you, be strong and do not give up, for your work will be rewarded. 2 Chronicles 15:7

The Lord is my rock, my fortress and deliverer; my God is my rock in whom I take refuge. He is my shield and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold. Psalm 18:2

I can do all things through Christ, who gives me strength. Philippians 4:13

I would close my eyes while shaking and speak through my chattering teeth. I would declare these verses true. I would agree. I prayed. I invited God into that hospital room. Finally after reciting these verses for about 20 minutes, my shaking stopped. I could sense the Holy Spirit in that room with us, getting us through this difficult time. (The cards my husband read from are now framed and in the baby's room.) I fell into a bit of a sleepy state and my husband left to go home to change and eat some lunch. We lived only two miles from the hospital, so he hadn't packed a bag. The plan was for him to go home and change after the baby was born, except I was still in labor! No boxing kangaroo shirt the day our baby was born. I fell asleep and when I when I woke up an hour later, I was drenched in sweat. My fever had broken.

My husband came back and I could start to feel pressure around 1:00pm. The epidural was still working, almost 24 hours later, but I could feel pressure and pain very, very, very low. I still couldn't feel my legs and needed help being rolled to my side. My arms hurt from pulling myself up to the head of the bed. I had SEVEN things hooked to me. An IV in my right wrist, an IV in my left wrist, a heart rate monitor on my toe, the monitor inside me, a catheter because I had been in bed since 3:00 pm the previous day, the epidural in my back, and the blood pressure cuff. I just wanted to rip it all out, I was so sick of laying there. I was starting to emotionally come undone. The pain and pressure was mounting. For an hour I moaned and groaned while my husband held my hand. My body would become so tense and I would think about what we learned in birthing class. Pain in labor is good because it means things are happening and you need to relax and let it happen. So as the contractions would come, I would try to release my body's natural need to tense up by breathing out and repeating out loud, "Relax, relax, relax." It became my mantra. Finally I couldn't take it any longer and the next time the nurse came in to check on me I said, "I think I need to start pushing. I feel like I need to push." She checked me, then called the doctor to check me. He was at the other end of the hospital, working in the clinic. So it took a little while for him to become free to come see me. He checked and said, "Ten! I'm going to go change into my pajamas." I actually gave my first push before he got back. I couldn't wait. He came in with his scrubs on, I had a nurse on one side of me, and my husband on the other side.

Before I went into labor, I had read what the final stages of labor were like for some women. It's so different for everyone. I felt like, "Okay, it's go time. I've been lying here for 24 hours, waiting to be able to DO something. And now I can do something." I kept waiting for a surge of adrenaline. But it never came. It was the weirdest thing I have ever experienced - I could not keep my eyes open. All I wanted to do was sleep during the most intense pain of my life. I barely saw my doctor. I pushed during contractions for 75 minutes and my eyes were closed almost the entire time. In between contractions, I closed my eyes. I think I even said, "Is it okay if I just close my eyes for a little bit?" I was exhausted before the first push. I closed my eyes while I pushed with everything in me. I popped blood vessels under my eyes, I pushed so hard. My face was beat red for hours after the delivery. It took a good ten minutes after delivery for my breathing to return to normal. I pushed so hard I really did a number on my tail bone. To this day, it still gets sore. My tail bone was so messed up that when we came home from the hospital I sat in the car and bawled from the pain because I couldn't move. It hurt every day for 4 months. I still usually sit with my foot tucked under me. I couldn't sit up in bed to nurse because of it. If I sit for more than an hour, it still smarts...making for short car trips. Stupid tail bone.

After almost an hour of pushing I asked my doctor, "How many more pushes do you think?" He said, "I don't go by number of pushes, I go by time. I would say another 15 minutes." It was 3:45pm. You can bet I kept my eye on that clock! I kept thinking about the people in the clinic and how I was delaying their appointments by keeping my doctor in the delivery room. I just wanted the baby out and for it all to be over. I asked, "Do I have to wait until I feel the pressure to push? Or can I push without the pressure?" My doctor told me that pushing without a contraction doesn't do much besides make my body more tired by working harder to push. I gave a couple of good pushes and then said, "I don't feel the contraction, but I HAVE to push. The pressure it too much." He said, "Then push!" And with one final push, our baby came sliding out, which was the weirdest thing I have ever felt.

We did not find out the gender of the baby so that we would be surprised in the delivery room. However, I did not get my big declaration. No one said a thing. I tried to sit up a little bit to see, and all I could see was something by the baby's thigh. I said, "It's a boy?" And my husband said, "No...." And then I think someone FINALLY said, "It's a girl." Then she was put on my chest after she got all untangled from her abnormally long umbilical cord! My husband sang "Happy Birthday" to her, said hello to her, and then I said hello, after trying to catch my breath.

So after 31 hours, she was here. It was over. We thought her birthday would be January 8, but it ended up being January 9. We went into the hospital on a Wednesday morning and we didn't get to leave until Sunday. I was discharged on Saturday. Because of the antibiotics in my IV, I had to be a patient for an extra day. The morning after our girl was born, an on-call doctor decided to start her on an IV because she had a fever - most likely picked up from me during labor. So she had to stay an extra day as well to let the antibiotics run through. Her poor little arm...how anyone is skilled enough to insert an IV into a newborn, I'll never know.

I've sometimes thought about my labor experience and wonder if I have the choice again in the future would I ever choose to be induced? I'm not sure. Throughout the whole thing I was never scared or frightened. I knew I could do it. I knew that millions of women had given birth and I knew that a lot of women weaker and more frail than myself had done it. And if they could do it, so could I. That was the mindset with which I went into labor. I do know that in the weeks following there were times I wished I would have had a c-section. I would have recovered much faster than I did with my tailbone and that awful pain for weeks and weeks and weeks. I spent a lot of time standing up because sitting was too painful. I walked out of that hospital with three scars on my wrists and a tailbone that may get sore from time to time for the rest of my life. I also walked out with a beautiful baby girl who was worth it all.

Hello, world. Nice to meet you.