Expecting the Unexpected

As 2010 draws to a rather mellow close, I'm enjoying the soothing peace. For a change.

But I know that expecting the unexpected is a way of life in this busy world we attempt to function in, so I can't help but wonder a bit about what surprises 2011 has in store.

I'm reminded of the night a few weeks ago when I agreed to play the piano at a wedding. Now I don't really play much any more ... actually NONE ... since I stopped teaching private piano students three years ago, so I was a smidge nervous about this prospect. It was a small wedding and the bride wasn't at all picky about her music, so I suggested four classical pieces, which she readily agreed to.

So I diligently brushed up on those specific pieces - Pachelbel's Canon in D, Beethoven's Ode to Joy, Bach's Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring and Beethoven's Fur Elise - for several weeks. Altogether, they were designed to last about 15 minutes before the bride was to appear at the door, cuing me to launch into "Here Comes the Bride."

Cool beans. No worries, mon.

Then came the big night. The bride's sister (the only family member able to attend from Haiti) was delayed at the airport at the last minute so the 7:00 wedding was switched to 7:30. Finally, at 8:00 when she still hadn't arrived, and the guests and I had become thoroughly bored staring down one another, I was told to "just begin playing - she should be here any minute and we'll start the bride down the aisle at approximately 8:15." 

So I played. And I played. And I played. All my prepared music. Then I went through them again. And again. I had no other pieces with me and heaven knows whatever I'd memtorized during my early years had long since evacuated to higher ground.

I finally had to stop due to hand cramps after completing Canon in D for the FOURTEENTH time. Honestly. I ain't funnin' ya. I considered Chopsticks and Heart and Soul as time-fillers, but decided against it. I think if I ever see Canon in D again I'll rip out my very last three hairs.

I felt like cheering when the bride finally appeared at the back door, giving me the thumb's up. I attacked "Here Comes the Bride" with the zeal of a freshly pardoned convict.

So unforseen things happen from time to time, and we are called upon to dig deep to deal with them. Gracefully. It's easy to deal with them like spoiled little brats - my personal forte, but much harder to act like a grown-up. I've been told that once you're in your 50's you're expected to be that level.

Sigh.

So here's hoping your New Year will be peaceful and calm and uncluttered with Canons that never stop.

A Place for Jesus

So this is what it's supposed to look like, right? The nativity set in your front yard, I mean.

Well, mine didn't. For the entire month of December, something - or should I say someone - crucial was missing.

It all started last year when I took my yard nativity set in to Children's Church as my visual aid in telling the Christmas story on a stage before 200 kids. My coffee table model was just too small, so it seemed like a good idea to heist the larger hollow plastic model from the yard.

Everything was great until the chubby 8-year-old playing Mary was so startled by the heavenly host appearing that she stepped backward on the manger and sent Baby Jesus log-rolling across the stage. You could hear the c-r-a-c-k of the cheap plastic manger legs in the back row.

Bummer.

Because the set is 20-years-old, there are no replacements available, and I haven't been able to find any wooden boxes or feed troughs that would do. So we've had no manger to house the wee Savior all season. It just didn't seem right to lay the Prince of Peace on the bare ground, so we decided to leave him boxed up in the garage until an idea hit us.

But none did. Until today, Christmas Eve.

I was in the backyard, sprawled on the hammock under the big oak tree, and happened to remember our manger-less manger scene. "Lord, can you please help us with this one? We want to honor Your son, but we've exhausted all our ideas. Got any You can share?"

About a minute later, a shaft of sunlight peeking through the leaves hit something metalic in our yard debris pile at the back of our lot and shone like a lantern. It was an old rusty fireplace grate we'd discarded years ago, the PERFECT size for a manger.

It had been there all along but we never saw it until we asked for heavenly help.

Isn't it heart-warming how God will provde a place for the Savior in our lives if we only ask Him?

Coty Near-Facts of Science

Okay, girlfriends - I'm caving in to requests for a synopsis of a few of my Coty Near-Facts of Science. Sorry, my publisher won't let me share ALL the new ones coming out in my fall 2011 and spring 2012 releases, Too Blessed to Stay Stressed and More Beauty, Less Beast, but I can spill those from Mom NEEDS Chocolate and a preview of a few new ones.

Can you come up with some of your own? I'd love to hear them!  Enjoy!

TCC: Time Contortion Continuum: An angel with a warped sense of humor mans the time joystick in heaven and loves to make us squirm. Need proof? You know how time drags on sleepless nights as you thrash about in the covers, but zips by in hyperdrive when company's coming and the gravy boat hits the linoleum?

Theory of Negative Relative-osity: As soon as you utter the prophetic words, "My child will never ..." cosmic forces kick in to ensure that your little darlin' will perform that precise behavior for the rest of his life. Or until you end his life.

Earring Paradox: When shopping for a specific style or color, inevitably the only cute earrings you can find are clip-ons.

VR Theory: Volume Relativity: The phenomenon that occurs over the summer when your jeans inexplicably shrink two sizes in your dresser drawer. We HATE this one!

Spontaneous Degeneration: When left in an unnaturally clean state, matter will spontaneously atrophy into indiscriminant disarray. An hour after you triumphantly finish slaving over a clean house, mold begins to sprout on shiny faucets, green slime oozes from the vegetable crisper, and dust bunnies proliferate for a closet reunion. Black dirt erupts like lava from the carpet nap, clothing magically appears on every piece of sit-able furniture, and dirty panties peek from behind hampers just in time for the dog to proudly present them to dinner guests.

BBP: Bursting Bladder Phenomenon: That inexplicable law of nature that expands one 6-oz cup of hot tea comsumed before bedtime into two quarts an hour after you hit the sack. And then mysteriously dredges up another quart every half hour therafter. It's the gift that keeps on giving ... all night long!

D.A.M.: That dreaded teenage malady, Disorder of Adolescent Memory. Amazing how stacks of dirty dishes and chores they've done every single day of their lives are so easy to forget! There are times you just want to hook a voltmeter up to their little punkin brains to see if anything is getting through.

Christmas Glitter

Don't you just love the special treats Papa God sends our way to remind us that He's intimately involved in every detail of our lives? I call them grace notes. My friend Esther recently told me of one of God's amazing grace notes in her life.
Esther had been dismayed that during her only son's wedding three years ago, somehow a photo of Esther and her husband with the newlyweds had fallen between the cracks. The photographer had snapped pics of family groups and friends and seemingly everyone there except the four of them together.

Esther was deeply disappointed. She knew that was a special moment she could never get back.

Fast forward three years. Esther turned a flash drive from their camera into Walgreens to retrieve some recent pictures she needed of the children's Bible Club she leads. Because there were 200 pictures on the flash drive, the clerk told Esther she'd receive a free 8x10 with her purchase, and asked her to choose one. Esther didn't really have time to look through all 200 photos, but she felt an inner nudge to do just that. Lo and behold, buried deeply in the bunch, somehow - no one knows who snapped it or when - there was a head-on, looking-right-at-the-camera wedding shot of Esther, her husband, her son and his brand new wife.

It was exactly what she had wanted!

In Esther's words, "God's grace sprinkled over me like Christmas glitter, saying, 'Thank you, Esther, for being still to listen; I heard the desire of your heart.'" 

What grace note glitter will God sprinkle into your life this Christmas season?

Not Just a Pretty Face

I was floored last week to barely recognize a well known actress from a 70s sitcom as she loomed large on my TV screen. I rarely watch TV, but being it's the Christmas season, my daughter insisted that we catch a few of the Hallmark Hall of Fame cheesy holiday movies.

I had to double check the credits as this particular actress caught my eye. She slightly resembled her younger famous self, but she hadn't aged well at all. It sure got my attention. And made me sad in a way. I guess partly because I've been thinking a lot about appearance lately as I've been working on a chapter about outer beauty for my new book, More Beauty, Less Beast.

I have to admit the damage done by the ravages of time made me pity her.

And then today as I was filling my gas tank, I studied my reflection in my car's side window and suddenly identified with that poor actress. How often do we really look at ourselves? For me, it's just a casual glance in a mirror a few times a day to make sure I don't have spinach between my teeth or my hair isn't sticking out like a scarecrow. But there in the glaring light of day reflected in my window, every single wrinkle, ugly pore, blemish, and saggy jowel showed up loud and clear.

Was that really ME? It didn't look like the me in my head - the self-image I've had of me for the past decade.

It was eye-opening to say the least.

I was immensely thankful that I don't have to make my living by my appearance. How draining it must be to have to be beautiful all the time. Certainly there are those who do it and have done it well for decade after decade; Christy Brinkley, Rachel Welch, and Sophia Loren come to mind. Timeless beauties, by anyone's standards.

But what is beauty by God's standards?

That's precisely what I intend to find out. That intangible, indescribable, radiant beauty that shines from within - we've all known people who had it. People who don't necessarily posess society's standards of physical beauty, but leave us basking in their beauty nonetheless.

As I journey through life, never knowing what surprises (or wrinkles or bags) the next bend in the road will bring, I want to know that I will always be beautiful to my Father. The only one who counts.

Let's Party!

After 40 years of reading the Bible cover to cover, I discovered something I never knew yesterday while perusing the book of Exodus. But then again, maybe I'm the only one in the world who wasn't clued in.

Did you know that Moses wasn't the only one (besides Adam and Eve) to actually see God face to face and live to tell about it? In fact, did you realize that God threw a party for a hand-picked bunch in His mountain hide-away and hung out with them while they chowed down?

No? Well I'm glad I'm not alone in my duh-ment. I fear that many of the times I've waded through some of the heavier Old Testament books like Exodus , Leviticus, Numbers and Deuteronomy, I was either half asleep or brain-fried enough that what I was reading didn't register. Happily, this time it did and I feel oh, so enlightened.

In Exodus 24:9-11, it's recorded that while the Children of Israel had recently left Egypt and were just getting started in their wilderness adventure, 74 Hebrew leaders were invited up to Mt. Sinai where "they saw the God of Israel" and "they shared a meal together in God's presence!" (New Living Translation)

Is that not cool? Can you imagine being invited up to God's place and being served manna appetizers while the Master of all Creation and God of the Universe hangs out with you?

I must admit it makes my imagination run wild just considering what the party chatter must have been like:

"So, Lord, what does your agenda look like for the next 40 years?"

"Hey Moses, did you try the quail wings? The secret's in the sauce!"

"Do want us to stay and wash dishes, Yahweh? Good help is so hard to find these days."

No disrespect is intended, of course - I just like to insert myself in these amazing biblical scenarios to see what it could have actually felt like. Guess that's the actress in me.

Nevertheless, I think that's really something that God loves His children so very much that He intentionally seeks our company - He wants to spend time with us. Do we, on the other hand, give Him the same consideration?

How many times have I closed my Bible after 4 verses because I'm tired and would rather go to sleep? Or left a prayer unfinished because I got sidetracked by other important claims on my time? Or had a whole list of good intentions to perform in His name that just somehow never made it to fruition?

Hmm. Maybe it's time to rethink my priorities. Maybe I can still make the invitation list to the Almighty's next shindig.

Oy! Coty Meets Coyote

I had heard rumors of missing cats in our semi-rural neighborhood, and even a blood and guts description of, well, the blood and gut remains one neighbor found of her cat one foggy morning. There were several accounts of coyote sightings caught in headlights during the wee hours of the night.

And then this morning, I had my very own close encounter.

I was walking my dog down our quiet neighbohood street just after sun-up when we were both startled by a large critter emerging from between two houses about 20 yards in front of us. My ferocious miniature poodle went ballistic but the beast only nonchalantly glanced our way, never even breaking stride. He wasn't exactly loping, but walked at a right smart clip as he crossed the street and disappeared between two houses on the other side of the road as if on a mission.

He ignored us like we weren't even there.

I understand urban coyotes are more common in Florida than most people realize. And by the time you see one, you're probably infestated. They're cunningly adaptable and surprisingly agile. This one had the coloring and height of a German Shepherd but was more gangly, thin and scruffy. He definitely had a wild look about  him.

I actually enjoy observing wildlife, which is why I moved to this 200-home subdivision on the cusp of town and country. It brings joy to my heart to see the array of sandhill cranes, iris', red-tailed hawks, owls, silver foxes, racoons, bunnies, possums, and even the occasional alligator traipsing down the middle of the road on a trek between the ponds flanking the neighborhood.

But I must say this encounter didn't bring me the least bit of joy. I'd say heart palpitations is more like it. I've read that coyotes consume just about anything - garbage, dog food, berries, roadkill, eggs, small pets and any kind or varment they can run down. And they've been known to breed with female dogs when one is handy, producing a "coy-dog," which can never be fully domesticated.

So what's an urban animal lover to do? Take the good with the bad and just get over it? Or buy a pellet gun and start packing? What's your opinion?

Trapping the Weasel

Fear is a covert weasel that can sneak in under the wire and wreak havoc in our feelings and decisions without us even being aware of the wily little beast.

I've never been more aware of this fact than last week when my daughter asked me to accompany her and her husband to their 12-week sonogram. To my surprise, my first impulse was to shout "NO!" and run the other way. But I didn't. Carefully keeping my expression neutral, I saw the excitement and joy radiating from her eyes about this momentous occasion, her first baby, and knew it was a precious honor she was offering me and I should accept graciously.

But my gut reaction puzzled me. What was so frightening to me?

As I considered this perplexing question, a decade faded away like early morning fog and I was transported back to a tiny sterile cubical at a long-forgotten OB office. It was my own 12-week sonogram visit and I was thrilled, despite my daily bouts of nausea, to be expecting our third child at age 42 after five devastating miscarriages. Our two teenagers had been supportive and everything seemed to be going fine. I was already in maternity clothes. I'd asked my mother to come with me, since she had never seen this new technology - sonography - and we giggled like school girls in anticipation as we entered the little office.

Then, the technician began searching with the probe, and I watched her friendly smile disappear as she kept moving the wand around and around. She suddenly turned off the screen and abruptly left the room, stating, "The doctor will be in to see you momentarily."

My mother's face melted. It was only then that I suspected something was wrong. Dark, hollow dread began in the pit of my stomach and snaked outward to fill my chest cavity and my head as the doctor came in to explain my lifeless womb.

I had grieved over the years, sure, but some losses are bured so deep they never really go away. They just get planted over.

And so, as history seemed to be repeating itself, I nervously crowded with my daughter and her husband into another tiny examining room, and found my heart in my throat as the technician pulled out the ultrasound probe.

I had prayed incessantly about this moment, and given my fear repeatedly to Papa God, but tentacles of that wretched, weaselly creature wrapped around the soft vulnerability of my mother-love and squeeze the very life away.

Please, Father. Please let this baby be okay. Please.  

Suddenly, a tiny beating heart filled the screen and little arms flailed around a safe, warm womb housing a living, thriving, miraculous baby.

Tears filled my eyes - as they do even now - in grateful relief and joy for God's amazing grace that conquers fear.

For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind (2 Timothy 1:7, NKJ).

Meet my future daughter-in-law!



 My son is engaged! Matthew popped the question to his beautiful Rebecca at our Smoky Mt. cabin last week. No date yet but we'll keep you posted!

The Party's Over

Just got back from a wonderful, relaxing week in the Smokies where Spouse and I saw no less than 7 deer, 2 foxes, a gazillion chipmonks (a rare treat for us Floridians) and a few elderly squirrels. Not exactly like this one - most used canes instead of walkers.

As an extra treat, we had about 2 inches of snow the last few days, which was a mixed blessing. It was great fun to romp in winter wonderland until it came time to pack up and go home Sunday morning.

We arose at 5:30 am to 20 degrees and frozen everything: pipes, screws, spigets (is that how you spell that?), even the hose we needed to drain the hot water heater was frozen stiff and filled with ice. Poor Spouse had to soak it in a bathtub of hot water to get it to loosen up enough to to run water through. What a mess!

But we were finally on the road by 7:30 am, just in time to hit a huge traffic back-up just south of Atlanta. Grrr. Three lanes funneled down to one for 12 miles for construction, which consisted of ten guys standing around watching one guy break up pavement with a jack hammer.

The hour delay was tolerable but barely. At least we had plenty of apples I'd picked from a tree up our mountain, and of course chocolate covered you-name-it (oreos, Nutter Butters, pretzels, etc ad nauseum) from our favorite chocolate shoppe in Highlands.

So now we're home and back to work with nothing but memories of frosty mornings, snowball fights.and geriatric rodents.