Ever Heard of an Umbrella?

Seriously, what were the women of yesteryear thinking? My mom used to actually go out into public with one of these rain bonnet, hat, shower cap, get-ups. And I don’t think I was embarrassed either.

And my dear friend Maria, from college, sent me one recently for my 40th birthday. How sweet, huh? So, as a thank you to Maria for her impeccable fashion taste for those 40 and over, here’s a picture for your laughing pleasure.

Boys and the Bean

I drove to Chicago today. Two of my boys had stayed the weekend with my cousin and her family, and I was only going to pick them up, visit for a while and then drive back to Indy. But cousin only lives 5-10 minutes  from the Magnificent Mile. And it is summertime. And it’s warm and beautiful. And it was only 3 in the afternoon. And I’m spontaneous.

So as we headed out of their neighborhood and south on Lake Shore Drive, I took a tiny detour onto Randolph and into a parking garage by Millenium Park. The boys were anxious to get back home, but their dark moods turned lighter when we walked into the Cafe for ice cream. With cones in hand, we ventured up the steps to the next level of the park where we played around the sculpture called “Cloud Gate”, which we have dubbed the giant lima bean. I’ve added some of my favorite shots from the day.

Let me add: I love summer. Here are 10 of the top reasons why:

1. Ice cream tastes extra yummy. And I can work it off by riding my bike, playing football in the yard with the boys or swimming in the pool — so I don’t even feel guilty about my indulgence.

2. The boys get to experience life on their own time table (with little scheduling).

3. We wander as if on a long journey instead of rushing to a destination.

4. I laugh a lot more.

5. We go barefoot - nearly everywhere. Or if shoes are required, they usually involve the flip flop kind.

6. We can stay up late and sleep in! No annoying alarm clock beeping at me in the mornings, just the sweet birds chirping out my window, and the occassional sweet boy waking me to tell me he’s hungry.

7. Weekends at the lake! This one is truly my favorite part of summer.

8. Getting together with friends to play and not worrying about the kids being up late and tired for school the next morning. Relationships feel more carefree and open with the added time that summer brings.

9. Finding treasures in the neighborhood creek, like the gigantic crayfish the size of a lobster.

10. Lying on a blanket in our backyard at night and staring at the stars - or reading a book with a flashlight in the tent we’ve put up at our backyard “campground.”

I hope whoever reads this will make their own list of summer pleasures. It helps you breathe deep and have a grateful heart!

Another Addiction

That’s right, another addiction. I am powerless over Facebook and my life has become unmanageble.

I’m just waiting for Facebook Anonymous to start up somewhere b/c I think I need help. As you can imagine, the laundry generated from11 days out West, especially that of four little boys, is immense. Not to mention that we were planning on putting our house on the market on Friday, only to find out we have a leaky roof that needs to be fixed. In other words, there’s lots of work that needs to be finished in this ol’ house.

The plan was to come home, do the laundry in a snap, do a bit of last minute staging and head down to the lake for some summer sun and fun. But that plan went to Hades in a handbasket. So we make more lists. We make more phone calls. We make more plans.

And what do I do? I get on Facebook. And I search for friends. And friends of friends. And friends of friends of friends. It’s crazy. Before I know it, I’ve been online looking at people’s pictures and profiles for two hours.

Today at church, the message was about fasting from unhealthy dependencies, in other words - addictions. It was one of those creepy Has-the-pastor-been-spying-on-me sort of sermons. So tomorrow I’ve decided if I really, truly believe that God is enough, I will fast from Facebook. All day. Of course, part of the sermon was about not telling the whole world that you’re fasting. Geesh, let me work on one thing at a time, Okay? Pride is a whole other monster to deal with.

Oh, and by the way, if you want to be my friend on Facebook, I welcome you. It was sort of embarrassing to have something like 2 friends at first. I think I’m up to 11 now. But I can’t confirm you as my friend until after the “you-know-what” is over. I’ll look for you on Tuesday.

As for another addiction, here are some totally adorable pix of one of my guys with his little cousin that I had to share, along with some more of Wyoming. (I’ve heard people say I have a bright smile, but that is a bit much, don’t you think?)

Back home again in Indiana

Sometimes I wonder why we live in Indiana? After spending 11 days out west, this notion is stronger than ever. The mountains and the history and culture out west breathe life in me. I have churned these questions over and over in my head: How can we live out here and build community anew? How can we stay connected to friends and family when we leave our roots? Could we live out here for the summers? Where would the kids go to school? Is it all romanticized or could this really happen? Would I be too lonely? Would our kids be too lonely? Is it worth the sacrifice of leaving friends, family and familiarity?

That last one grips me. I love my friends and family. I love having the community I have here but I love the west. This last week taught me so much and I will write about that later. But for now, here are a few more pix for you to enjoy.

SNOW in June?

Excuse me, but is this June? Sure seems like I’m on a winter vacation right now. I’m sitting in a log cabin while it continues to snow, snow, snow. Yellowstone is closed. Yes, closed.

So here we sit in a lodge built in the 1920s with people all over the country who have tried to get into the East Entrance of Yellowstone only to be told it’s a no go for now. There’s the fam from Virginia with the mom who could pass as my twin. She didn’t pack one cold weather item so she’s out here wearing flip flops making fun of herself, wanting to call her friends to laugh with them - or so they can laugh at her. But she can’t find one pocket of cell phone coverage so she’s foaming at the mouth. So like me.

Then there’s the man from Florida who lost his wife last year who decided to drive through the US with a work buddy. When he got up to leave the lodge, he said, “Remember to keep Jesus in your heart.”

There are the ranch hands - young guys from Cody - who have befriended our kids and dared them to run from the lodge down the gravel road while they time them. I love these guys for helping these monkeys to burn some energy. Right now, however, the monkeys are acting like refined young men, playing chess - except for the occassional times they burp aloud or call each other “idiot.”

Mike is the guy who owns this lodge and the surrounding cabins. He’s dealing with all sorts of stranded travelers, feeding them, letting them use his WiFi, his phone, his coffee and hot chocolate.

Virginia Mom just called home from the front desk at the lodge and apparently there is 120 degree heat index where they live. Yet, they huddle here in the snowy mountains of Wyoming right now. Crazy stuff.

Here are a few pix from our last couple days here. Check out the Quote of the Day page to see what my youngest said today.

No one Ever Told Me

The Badlands National Park, in South Dakota, has been there all my life, yet no one ever told me. I am truly amazed that no one has sent me trekking this way before. No one has shared their enthusiasm for this natural wonder in this beautiful land called South Dakota. How could it have taken me this long to find my way to such an awe-inspiring, God-filled place?

My eyes have gorged on the landscape buffet that this state offers. Here are some pix from the last two days. Magnificent!

You’re in Trouble…

…that’s what the Head of the School said to me today at Field Day. As I was running here and there, Mr. Head of School walks by and tells me I’m in trouble. It’s not the first time I’ve been in trouble with him. I’ve loitered in the staff lounge (even though I was given permission to drop something off in a teacher’s mailbox). He stopped me to tell me that the sign that reads “Staff Only” does NOT include me. Prior to that, after I had lost my two younger children while engaged in a deep conversation with another parent, he called me into the same area to show me the outcome of their water cooler experiment (imagine pools of water on carpet and four little feet doing the squishy, squishy dance). Hey, maybe that’s why that “Staff Only” sign was posted the next day.

Anyway, I am no stranger to Mr. Head of School being a little annoyed at me. Let me note here that he’s my friend. His wife is my friend. His kids play with my kids. Yet today, his look meant all business. Today the “You’re in Trouble” comment had a bit of a sting to it. Found out it involved a student, a smallish third grader. I was an accomplice to her crime. Actually, maybe instigator is a better word. But wait until you hear the entire case before you decide whether she or I should be handed down the “You’re In Trouble” charges.

As tradition would have it, Mr. Head of School (HOS) stands in a designated circle (actually a hula hoop on the ground) and kids wait in a line for their turn to throw balls drenched in water at him. The problem is…. Mr. HOS moves around and it’s nearly impossible for the younger children to hit him. I’ve even seen him slyly hook his foot under the hula hoop and move back. So I happened to walk by one of the 3rd graders -  who was standing behind Mr. HOS and his hula hoop to retrieve the balls - and I said loud enough for Mr. HOS to hear, “It’s okay, Susan (not her real name), if you ACCIDENTALLY hit him when you’re throwing the ball back to the person in line.”

Well, Mr. HOS was probably busy pushing the hula hoop backward when I made the joke, which Susan took as a challenge I might add. Off I skipped back into the school to deliver lunches to the classrooms and lo and behold, who should I run into but Mr. HOS himself. And as I scurry along, he stops and says those three words in this post title.

YOU”RE IN TROUBLE… then he adds: “Susan hit me from behind and I told her she had to sit out for the rest of that event. I didn’t know YOU suggested it to her. She started crying and then I found out that YOU told her to do it.”

Now. Now. Could you have just told her to stop? Cool it? Give her fair warning? Noooo, she had to sit out of the coveted event and then, from what I have been told, she broke into tears. That’s what kills me. It’s one thing to get in trouble for my own shenanigans but another to involve an innocent child in my ploy to get Mr. HOS wet on Field Day — as much as you can get someone wet with a little ball soaked in slimy water unlike the complete and utter soaking he would get if our meager budget didn’t prohibit us from getting the traditional dunk tank that other schools use to douse their Heads of Schools (not sure which should be plural so I made both words plural). So I ask you: Wouldn’t you find a way to help these sweet school children get their trusty servant leader as wet as can be on the one and only day they could dare do so?

After I got the three words, I found Susan - smiling at the next event, thankfully, and I apologized and asked for her forgiveness. In all her sweetness she didn’t hesitate to forgive me. I gave her a big hug and told her again how sorry I was that I had caused her to get in trouble.

As for the getting in trouble part, I’m sure it won’t be the last time. In fact, I can’t wait to see what Mr. HOS does next year when I personally finance the dunk tank with the words:

Mr. Head of School… Step Right Up Because You’re Goin’ Down!

And Susan, I guarantee, you’ll be first in line!

Taken at Field Day (The Oaks Academy) two years ago.

It’s LAKE time!

Memorial Day weekend marks the beginning of lake season. Our family has a lakehouse that is located in a beautiful southern Indiana area, which I think is the best kept secret in our state.

Being on the water melts nearly all the worries of life away, not to mention the fun we have watching the kids tube and testing our skiing and hopefully wakeboarding skills. That is my goal this summer - learn to wakeboard.

The lakehouse HAS to be the best investment my dad has ever made, although it means the most work, too. My two older brothers (4 and 6 years older than me) and their families, along with my parents and my family… and any other friends we may have asked to join us, get to spend a weekend together, sharing meals, stories and making new memories. As the way overused phrase goes: It is priceless. If you’ve had the good fortune to grow up with the summer lake experience, you know I can’t capture the wonderment in words. I’ll post a few pictures below and I’m sure you’ll be seeing more of them as the summer rolls on.

top to bottom:

Playing in the sand for hours. I love seeing their imaginations cranked up to full gear.

Noah and his friend go on treasure hunt at the dam.

Jaden pretending he’s been shot and falling into lake. Asher and cousin attached at the hip as they play on the tube.

Boat decorated for 4th of July parade. Yes, you must wear the hat to ride in the boat!

Our friends taking the SeaDoo out for a spin.

Tubing, tubing and more tubing.

Rob Bell Bashers

I used to curl up with a book in bed. With my laptop, curling isn’t as comfortable. But for my wanderng mind, my computer was the way to go tonight.

I needed to decompress from a day filled with pressing the snooze button a few too many times, packing lunches because everyone hates “sloppy joe” day, calling the realtor to report on window, roof, pool, front step and a thousand other repairs, getting kids early from school for an orthodontist visit, talking to other moms outside school about the latest 5th grade drama, buying end of the year teacher gifts, trying to get home in time for arpet cleaners, calling mom to run to house because I’m not gonna make it for carpet cleaners, checking in with my son’s therapist, deciding which of the 500 different printer cartridges work in our printer, searching for candles because of loss of power, helping with steam locomotive model, and refereeing airsoft rifle wars. (That last one might give you insight into my “checked out” state of mind by that point.)

Where was I? Yes. Reading. Okay, so I”m reading blogs, and it’s mind blowing when you are curious about one link which leads you to another and another, etc.  Soon I am linking my way out to the furthest layer of the blogosphere and I notice a theme. A Rob Bell bash-a-thon , if you will.

If you don’t know who Rob Bell is, here’s the 411: He’s the pastor of Mars Hill Church in Grand Rapids, MIch. Controversial because he says things that seem to be culturally relevant while some take him to put wordliness above Scripture. I’m not going to go into all the claims made against him. Just type “Rob Bell” into your browser and you’ll find plenty of these accusations.

Don’t know him. And I’m not here to defend him, persay. But I am going to take a wild guess that the man loves God and wants to do right. He’s young. Hip. Fresh. And I suppose that scares some people. Makes them run for their flood lights to shine upon him from their heights, revealing his sins of apparently magnificent proportions.

Here’s my issue with this blogging for or against pastors or any other person in ministry (and I understand it’s a free country, free press, yada yada, keeps things interesting and open, yada yada, if we don’t expose the false prophets how will people know yada yada yada YA): we are losing any bit of unity that we have. Instead of finding the commonality - that we love Jesus and find motivation in his death, resurrection, and subsequently his indwelling -  we are finding every single thing that pulls us apart. Satan must be proud, huh?

Seriously, some of these bloggers have caused me to rethink calling myself Christian. I’m not really sure I like Christ-follower either because it’s the latest “trend.” I think I’m just going to be Lynn-child of God- lover of Jesus- propelled by the Holy Spirit inside me-except when I try to snuff Him out by self-god that-appears-every-so-often. I know it’s long but it’s so simple really. Simple. No emergent, convergent, heretic, prophetic, modern, postmodern or any other key word of the day definitions.

I’m nothing more than a girl. A good girl. Who sometimes does bad. But knows that love always wins. In short, redeemed.

So it’s hard for me to hear these stupid arguments about people who are just trying their best to serve God and tell people about Creator God and the beauty of His Son Jesus and the gift of the Holy Spirit.

Funny how intolerant I am of intolerance. I suppose it’s the defiant part of me. The passionate part of me. The can’t-everybody-just-get-along part of me (some may call it co-dependent). Mostly, it’s probably the crabby-I’m-tired-and-need-to-go-to-bed part of me.

So Rob Bell, if you ever read this - which in the 3 people that might actually get to this part, I’m not counting on it, BUT if you do - keep on keepin’ on with humility, love, grace and truth. You and I both know that no one has the corner on truth except God himself. So paint away on your black velvet canvas if the Holy Spirit is prodding you. And if the title “Sex God” got people all worked up in a fizzy, tizzy fit, try naming your next book, “Jesus For Hillary Clinton.” Okay, that makes me giggle… because I don’t really like Hillary but Jesus sure does, doesn’t He? He absolutely adores her. Sees her as she is. Not as I see her in all her anti-feminine, truth-twisting, annoying, fragmented ways. He sees beauty and wholeness. Imagine that!

Whew. I’ve just had a paradigm shift for Mrs. Clinton. And hopefully you Rob Bell-bashers can paradigm-shift a little, too. So come down from the great heights and trust that God will work out all the details . Relax a little. And let Rob be.

Reunions, Helicopters and War

Those three words sum up the weekend. First: I am in helicopter hell. Those fun little brown “helicopters” that I loved so much as a child are now my biggest nemesis. Hours of beautifying our yard were ruined by these pesky little fluttering seedpods. When I say our yard and pool were covered, I’m talking layers, and I might add that they have not all fallen yet!

Hmm, do I want to talk about reunions or war next? I think I’ll go a bit serious and then end on a lighter note. And you thought the serious topic would be war. Think again. The “reunion” topic is the heavy one. So here it goes… a couple years ago, our family (meaning Bret and I along with our boys, by default) decided to cut ties with a relative. This was not some sort of punishment, nor did we see it as a forever sever. After some counsel and prayer and self-discovery, we decided to write this person a letter and let them know that we would not be visting, nor inviting this person over to our home, nor writing, calling, or generally communicating in any way for the time being. It was not an easy decision but one we felt was necessary for the health of our family. At first it was like we were finished with the business of broken-heartedness concerning this person. Like out of sight, out of mind. But we soon learned that cutting ties didn’t mean that the person’s affect on us just vanished. The wounds ran deep. And they were real. Yet with the help of many friends and a lot of prayer, we are moving out of the brokenness, and are learning how to be in a healthy relationship with this individual.

So this weekend, we had a reunion. Not “the” reunion necessarily. I’m not sure either of us were ready yet, but it happened anyway. It took place at another relatives birthday party, to which we were both invited. And because the birthday person is important to each of us, we put all differences aside to celebrate a milestone. It was strange walking into the room with this person sitting there. But not as strange as I thought it might be. In fact, it was so normal that I think the normalcy is what made it weird. Nothing was different. Nothing, that is, except for the God has been working in me and in Bret regarding this person. As for the “estranged” person, I have no idea. All we can do is work on ourselves. We long for this person to seek help, but we know now that we can’t force that any more than we can force the neighbor’s cat to join us for a swim in our pool. So we do what we can. We don’t give up our power. We set boundaries. And we live and let live. All of this sounds so easy, but it’s been a long road of tears and discovery. When I asked Bret how he felt about the reunion, he said, “It was the right thing - to go there.” I agree. And while we weren’t all frolicking in a field of poppies, it felt okay to be together. And feeling okay felt good.

On to war… Conner Prairie settlement has a weekend called, “Civil War Days,” where the entire place is transformed into the era of the Union versus Confederates,  Abe Lincoln, “Dixieland”, and kettle corn. (Not so sure that last one has a thing to do with the Civil War but if not, that’s their loss and our gain.)

Our fam was planning on going with a couple of my friends and their kids. We were then going to meet another family. Somehow in the mix of things, MeMyselfandI ended up taking six boys to the event. I met the other family there - briefly - but with the boys, ages 11, 10, 9, 8, 7, and 5, it was next to impossible to stick together. So off I went with my crew, looking for the ideal place to view the Civil War battle re-enactment. I tried to shake the irritation that my other friends - and my husband - had all bailed. In the midst of these woe-is-me thoughts, I looked up the hill and caught this picture of the boys running in the wind on a sunny, spring day and all the irritation melted away. This is one of those photos that captures a moment that, camera or no camera, the picture would be etched in my memory forever. It is that beautiful to me! Six healthy boys, laughing and… just living!

- the Confederate Calvary starts to advance. They won the battle. Poor Union soldiers were outnumbered. One soldier acted out  his death process so elaborately with convulsions and thrashing about that I think my youngest may need therapy! He even stuck his thumb in his mouth and he doesn’t even suck his thumb. At least not until today!