It makes a difference.

Changing how you say something makes all the difference even if you're still saying the same thing.

Commanding that "This is not a cartoon we watch," searching for the remote and abruptly changing to a better show brings a response of anger. Not to mention that fact that it happens to be rude.

Asking "Is this a good cartoon?" and waiting for an answer, in contrast, ends in a peaceful transition from bad to good. Instead of taking over with the force of despotism, the actions become helpful... which is the intent anyway!

For I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate. Romans 7:15

Do not provoke [your] children to anger... Ephesians 6:4

Looking at Our House

We were in the neighborhood having visited Dad's parents after lunch and then stopped quickly to grab & give a hug to dad's brother and our cousin.

"Hey Dad, go past the house."
"Okay, but nobody get weird or anything."
"We've got to stop and see them [the neighbors]. They've got to be home. Let's surprise them!" said Mum.

It was a lovely, lovely visit. Our families hadn't seen each other since the tearful night before and actual November moving day.  Just to talk and laugh, we always do! To be someplace completely familiar, in a house that I've been familiar with since I could walk and even before, to be with people who were so much like family and always right next door. The words sweet and precious come to mind. We actually opened our Christmas presents... Many dates had been set to get together, but it hadn't happened. There we were today and there the presents had been for months. Theirs are still in our dining room. 

This is the point of the story where a slight correction is needed. The post title should read: Looking at what was our house... felt really, really odd. Mum & Dad admitted the same. We'd driven past at Thanksgiving then Christmas and seen it barren of decorations, but today was different. We were outside of the car, walking around, up to our neighbors house. Everything seemed more personal. I had an urge several times to just go over, run in the yard, swing open the shed or walk up the front steps. I even wanted to go up to the door, ring the bell and just say, "I used to live here. Yay! How do you like it? 'cause I loved it completely." My parents joked the reply would be, "And...so...what?"

I wanted to do what I'd done everyday since I was born; but I didn't. I couldn't. None of it was mine anymore. In fact, some of it was even gone. Our hand prints and names were all in the cement holding down the blue, green and white striped swing set. They had taken it down- no kids. The red chinese maple with our names carved in it was huge. I used to sit under that tree for hours, talking to myself, dreaming and playing with rocks, flowers, grass, sticks, reading books. One of my dad's business signs was hidden under the lattice of the steps. I wonder why he left it... 

I wonder if they noticed any of the things we left behind: the writing in the crawl spaces, did they read the gospel verse?! The above mentioned hand-prints and carvings, the windows cut into the side of the shed from when it was our playhouse, the height markings on the basement closet doorway, the footprints pressed in the garage floor. The footprints weren't ours, but we always liked them. I know the holes from our homemade basketball hoop have to still be in the brick of the house on the deck... but they'll never see them. Of course, who would? Yet, I know they're there. That house has us all over it. My dad did so much work... and it was all beautiful. I'm not sure if I appreciated or saw it before, maybe. I know I did today.

There was a plastic duck on the porch. A plastic duck... oh my. Plastic ducks (you know, the kind that can be dressed for any and all seasons) aren't, well, I just never imagined a plastic duck sitting on that front porch. I know, they're kitsch... but not in a good way for me. They're not bad, just make me wince then laugh. Kevin thought of all kinds of funny things they could have done to the inside, and some not so funny things actually. I laughed at them all when he was talking though.

Hopefully the members of the family who owned the house we bought will drive by. But I want them to come in, say hello, to say as I wanted to say this afternoon, "I lived here. I loved this house. It meant something to me and was part of my life. Here's why..." To play a record on the turntable even! A house is just a house; but still, some houses are homes. This is now our home, but it was someone else's too. That seems to mean something in my mind. It just doesn't seem right not to know who lived here and what these rooms meant to them; or for the people with the plastic duck not to know who we were/are. It could be that I'm asking for too much information and I really don't want to know all that... possibly.

Moving is something I'll remember as a part of the transition from being a kid to a young adult/teenager. I feel like today was a "growing up" day. I couldn't change the fact that the old house now belonged to someone else*, someone I don't know, or that they most likely would never know about me, my family or the consequential moments for us at that very address. The moments remain; the location has changed. Reality wasn't harsh but was firm, kinda stark, yet sprinkled with joy. 

It's life.

As I wrote on the rafters:

The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord." -Job 1:21

& guess what - the Lord gave again and continues to give. 

*The flip-side is that we now have a wonderful new house which is appreciated and loved!

Oldies but Goodies

Ever have one of those moments where you come across something from your past that brought you much enjoyment and good memories? Maybe family pictures or jokes, a beloved toy or book. 

I ran into one such item this past week: Steve Green's Hide 'em in Your Heart music videos. And by videos, I mean video cassettes with matching cassette tapes. I think there's still an argument as far as the durability of cassettes vs. CDs, but that's a bunny trail. I never realized the songs were pure scripture! Huzzah and hoorah to my parents for having us watch those tapes; they're good stuff. As I scrolled itunes listening to the songs, they came right back. There I sat singing scripture songs along with the high-pitched voices of seven year olds. I want to find those videos, and the tapes. The younger two need to watch them and I want to re-watch them. 

We also have the entire New & Old Testament sets of animated Bible stories from Nest Entertainment. Those were wonderful as well. I can still remember lying on my stomach next to my brother in front of the TV coloring in the books that corresponded with the videos.

It's nice to realize that you haven't outgrown the enjoyment of certain things. 

Just Thinking

Holidays are when people come together.

In our immediate family, yes. Outside of that however, our six lives are like opposing railroad tracks to some of our relations... as far away from each other as the east is from the west. Not particularly to each others faces, but fundamentally. We live different lifestyles, we set different standards, we have different ideals. There is however a greater source of separation, the only true difference, Christ. It is each of our responses to the cross of Christ that dictate our lives at the core and in the long run.

But thanks be to God, who in Christ always leads us in triumphal procession, and through us spreads the fragrance of the knowledge of him everywhere. For we are the aroma of Christ to God among those who are being saved and among those who are perishing, to one a fragrance from death to death, to the other a fragrance from life to life. Who is sufficient for these things? For we are not, like so many, peddlers of God’s word, but as men of sincerity, as commissioned by God, in the sight of God we speak in Christ.
2 Corinthians 2

I want to be a person of sincerity towards others even when they are not toward me. I want to be a person who speaks Christ, that He would be found, both directly and invisibly, in the simplest of words I utter.

I realize more and more it is not anything I have done that turns them away from me, causes them to react strangely to a comment I've made or to my showing them the love I hold for them. I do however, have a responsibility to have an attitude that reflects the aroma of my heart, and I want both of those things to be what Christ wants them to be. My prayer right now, founded in the hope of Christ, is that the aroma I put forth through my attitude and actions would not be a stench of death, but the fragrance of life.

I dont want the differences between our lives to not be pronounced/visible or the 'great divide' have a little dinky swaying bridge placed over it to make it look pretty and function to whatever degree. I dont necessarily want everything to be comfycosy and acceptable between everyone while my soul is at peace, but theirs still are under wrath. Death and life are opposite and there is only one way to step out from under the first into the second- Christ and acceptance of the cross.

Several folks in our family have accepted Christ as their Savior by believing and accepting Him, there is just not much fruit to speak of, if any. It is for these that I pray that I would possess the fragrance of life, that the seeds in their heart would not close-up and shrivel into nothing; but that they might smell and drink of the Lord and grow stronger.

If your family is composed of Christians, be thankful for that! If not, be encouraged to not close off but keep reaching out, even in the smallest of ways Or reach out in one of the biggest ways- prayer.

Conversation on the Brown Leather Twirling Chair

What are you going to do when you grow up, Dave?
Work at Home Depot.

Why?
So I can build stuff.

What are you going to build?
A place for birds... a bird house.

Anything else?
some tables... ya, some furniture.

Are you going to do anything else when you grow up?
Buy a drill, or maybe Dad'll give me a drill.

That all or something else too?
An engineer.

What does an engineer do?
(chuckles) I dont know... build cars.

He lost his first tooth last week. He had a pet slug for fifteen minutes last night and when he lost the red leaf his pal rested on, he searched valiantly. "Where's my pet? ... There's too many red leaves!"

I showed him the slime the slug left on his hand. He got a sober look on his face and then came straight inside and washed his hands before I could even tell him to.

DashBoard Rocks

All morning in anticipation. Hoping not to be let down by a delivery man deciding to put off until tomorrow. Wondering how accurate tracking numbers are in their estimated delivery time. This just in [be beep be beep] this is the first offical post coming to you via brand new Macbook.

Ah it was like Christmas- savoring the moments when I tore the packing tape off the box which had been placed on the couch- brothers hovering everywhere. "How thin and sleek! What technology exists!" -Mom quote.

The lid was lifted, the marvelously genius magnet closure disconnecting smoothly. The on button. AH! The surge of excitment as the loading screen shows and the Apple logo becomes animated.

I cant believe I actually made a decision and bought the thing [reference Starbucks quote]. I'm still manuvering around the workings. It took me forever to find the volume button and how to copy and paste- which stunned me with its cool factor when I realized. Not having a left click is disconcerting as well as not having a tappad, just the click button registers. I'm lacking in word document software at the moment, but I found just a little while ago a 30 day Microsoft Word free trial that'll tide me over. I've yet to figure out how to adjust the bookmarks.

We all had a grand time being incredibly goofy with photo booth and the isight camera. Good times...laughter is required if you intend to hang onto any level of sanity around here. Well, anywhere honestly.

My only worry at the moment- whether my camera is compatible.

Ah! I went to insert the link to the 'Plague of Indecisiveness' post which included the Starbucks quote and all the editing tools arent visible for posting...not Mac supported? Major bummer. How shall I blog without linkage? Html I suppose...

A Picture's Worth

First off, a short story:

Last night Dave walked into my bedroom and my light fixture cover sitting on my dresser. It'd been there a week. He asked why it was sitting there, and asked if I needed a light bulb. "Yep, I do," I said while absorbed in restacking books along my dresser. "I'll get it for you!" At that moment I realized that I could do two things- continue what I was doing and pretty much ignore my brother; or take advantage of the moment and possibly make a memory.

I followed Dave downstairs. I watched him grab a kitchen chair and pull it over to the hall closet. He climbed up on the chair and proceeded to rummage through the grocery bags hanging on the wire hooks, filled with various light bulb boxes. I just watched from behind and answered with "75, 60, 120" when he couldn't read the occasionally faded numbers. He found a 40 I think it was and I helped him jump down from the chair. When we were back in my bedroom, "Let me put it in." He stood up on my bed and reached. I stood behind him with my hand around his waist, lifting him just an inch or two. We both turned the light bulb into the socket; where his hand slipped off and couldnt reach, my grip was steady and right-tighty...Let there be light!

[insert picture of a camera here]

I've been thinking alot lately about photography. I'd bet that if you asked pretty much anyone I know, they'd be able to tell you that I take tons of pictures! It's kinda funny...

Photography captures moments; photos are memory images that you can view right in front of you. These past few weeks, I've realized that there are two kinds of memories, captured and uncaptured. The captured are of course those that are preserved in some form- video, photo, audio. It's the pictures that the words out of your mouth after viewing them are "yes!" because you managed to catch a fleeting moment. It's the videos or audio that capture a piece of life that you don't have access to anymore or that can't be relived. The uncaptured memories have always gotten under my skin. I've always wanted to have everything "preserved" so that I could remember things always and not have to rely on my brain. The uncaptured are those which due to timing, poor camera quality, lighting, distance or even the fact that you are the subject and no one else around has a camera or notices the possibility, the shot remains untaken.

My perspective towards the 'uncaptured' has been tweeked lately. Uncaptured is in quotes. I have these vivid snippets in my head of a moment that I didnt capture in film or video, but somehow they've ended up captured in my mind. They're in my head. I cant put out an album and show them off, even though they're beautiful. Looking through a brick-sized hole into the baseball dugout and seeing Steve sitting on the bench by himself laughing, other boys around, yet invisible. Two pastors standing in front of a church family after announcing that one of them will be leaving. A friend that you've missed smiling and laughing. My dad and my brother with their heads together, looking each other straight in the eye, both grinning. I suppose the images that have been pressed into my mind the past few weeks are similar to what painters experience...they see something, remember it, and attempt to capture the life and essence of what they saw on canvas.

These moments would have made wonderful photos I'm sure. And I still dont like missing a 'great shot'; but lately I've experienced that taking the time to enjoy a moment for every ounce of what it is, and not being so anxious to click my shutter is a great thing. Life can be exquisitely beautiful from behind a camera lense; but to truly live life, you've got to do more than admire or capture or recreate a picture of it, you've got to experience it for yourself. In a sense you could say that one needs to be in the picture, not just taking it.

Sometimes that means consciously letting a moment remain 'uncaptured.' But it usually means coming away with your heart touched in a way that I think, will last alot longer than any digital file or piece of Kodak paper.
_

Currently Listening: Switchfoot. Gone. Like Frank Sinatra.

UPDATE: The computer's fixed! An acquaintance of a friend spent three hours working on it, and after many attempts finally beat the trojan. Best part- every file remained safe and sound. We would definitely recommend him...