I don't know when kids are supposed to learn how to count to three, but he's 22 months and this amazes me:
Yes, we have our own YouTube channel. Or as I call it, MooseTube. :)
Saturday, August 16, 2008
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Bad things, Good people
I received some sad news yesterday. A friend from college has passed away, after spending 14 years in a persistent vegetative state - after a tragic accident, only weeks before his wedding was to take place. His wedding to my other friend, a girl that I worked with as a high schooler at Burger King. She was Mormon, and with 4 of my classmates by my side we shared Christ with her and she came into a relationship with the Lord. She came with us to Bible College, where she met my now departed friend.
The story is tragic in any context, but more so if you knew Jeremy. Jeremy was Quality. He was one of the kindest, friendliest, funniest, most joyful, most brilliant people I have ever met. He had such an amazing energy. He had such passion for the Gospel. He radiated Christ's love to everyone he met. Everything about him was genuine. He was everyone's trusted friend. He was outgoing, with a personality that instantly set everyone he met at ease. He had this electric personality that could not be denied...until the accident.
I guess I’ve always held out hope in the back of my mind that his passion, ambition, extroversion and drive would somehow miraculously bring him out of his injured state. I had always assumed that God would not “waste” such a precious life, such a bright testimony of His love. My heart was startled out of that pleasant dream when yesterday morning greeted me with an email entitled “In case you hadn’t heard…” and my eyes have been wet with tears in each of my private moments since. And in between my faltering faith asking God “why”, I saw how Jeremy taught me not only how to live but also how to die.
With passion.
With joy.
As a living sacrifice.
I don't know how many days I'll cry over this loss. I honestly don't know if there will ever come a time in my life that I remember Jeremy and don't cry. I do know that I have stopped asking God "why?" Because if I were God, I would have wanted Jeremy home and by My side too.
Jeremy's passing has set me vis a vis with my own mortality. Up until now, all the people in my life who died were "old people". Now my contemporary has gone before me, and it really impresses upon me how brief life is. There are no guarantees. There may be no tomorrow. There may not even be lunch. I'd better get off the computer, and start living.
The story is tragic in any context, but more so if you knew Jeremy. Jeremy was Quality. He was one of the kindest, friendliest, funniest, most joyful, most brilliant people I have ever met. He had such an amazing energy. He had such passion for the Gospel. He radiated Christ's love to everyone he met. Everything about him was genuine. He was everyone's trusted friend. He was outgoing, with a personality that instantly set everyone he met at ease. He had this electric personality that could not be denied...until the accident.
I guess I’ve always held out hope in the back of my mind that his passion, ambition, extroversion and drive would somehow miraculously bring him out of his injured state. I had always assumed that God would not “waste” such a precious life, such a bright testimony of His love. My heart was startled out of that pleasant dream when yesterday morning greeted me with an email entitled “In case you hadn’t heard…” and my eyes have been wet with tears in each of my private moments since. And in between my faltering faith asking God “why”, I saw how Jeremy taught me not only how to live but also how to die.
With passion.
With joy.
As a living sacrifice.
I don't know how many days I'll cry over this loss. I honestly don't know if there will ever come a time in my life that I remember Jeremy and don't cry. I do know that I have stopped asking God "why?" Because if I were God, I would have wanted Jeremy home and by My side too.
Jeremy's passing has set me vis a vis with my own mortality. Up until now, all the people in my life who died were "old people". Now my contemporary has gone before me, and it really impresses upon me how brief life is. There are no guarantees. There may be no tomorrow. There may not even be lunch. I'd better get off the computer, and start living.
Sunday, August 10, 2008
A perfect day
What a lovely day today was. After church & lunch, we took a bike ride up to Whole Foods for our weekly grocery shopping. The ride there is uphill, the ride back is downhill and totally pleasant. As I coasted home, I turned the corner and a ray of sunlight kissed my face as my iPod played one of my favorite songs, Matthew West's "More". It was just such a beautiful moment, and I felt God's presence so clearly. What a gift.
Take a look at the mountains
Stretching a mile high
Take a look at the ocean
Far as your eye can see
And think of Me
Take a look at the desert
Do you feel like a grain of sand?
I am with you wherever
Where you go is where I am
And I'm always thinking of you
Take a look around you
I'm spelling it out one by one
I love you more than the sun
And the stars that I taught how to shine
You are mine, and you shine for me too
I love you yesterday and today
And tomorrow, I'll say it again and again
I love you more
Just a face in the city
Just a tear on a crowded street
But you are one in a million
And you belong to Me
And I want you to know
That I'm not letting go
Even when you come undone
I love you more than the sun
And the stars that I taught how to shine
You are mine, and you shine for me too
I love you yesterday and today
And tomorrow, I'll say it again and again
I love you more
I love you more
Shine for Me
Shine for Me
Shine on, shine on
Shine for Me
I love you more than the sun
And the stars that I taught how to shine
You are mine, and you shine for me too
I love you yesterday and today
And tomorrow, I'll say it again and again
I love you more
Than the sun
and the stars that I taught how to shine
You are mine, and you shine for me too
I love you, yesterday and today
Through the joy and the pain
I'll say it again and again
I love you more
I love you more
And I see you
And I made you
And I love you
More than you can imagine
More than you can fathom
I love you more than the sun
And you shine for me
Friday, August 8, 2008
When you have a boy, you need to teach him certain important things....
...like how to surf the stairs in a laundry basket.
My husband cracks me up!
We had to get a new wireless router after our old one died an untimely death. Hubby set up a new wireless network. Here are the names of the wireless networks in our neighborhood - guess which two are ours...
DaddyCool
2Wire421
I-LOVE-LAMP
Smith
arvelocity2
Mantalba
Gerzevske
HouseNet
Taz Wireless
Vinny 22
SexPanther
linksys
Anikesh
Yes, we like the movie Anchorman quite a bit. ;)
DaddyCool
2Wire421
I-LOVE-LAMP
Smith
arvelocity2
Mantalba
Gerzevske
HouseNet
Taz Wireless
Vinny 22
SexPanther
linksys
Anikesh
Yes, we like the movie Anchorman quite a bit. ;)
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
I'm Bringing Casseroles Back
Back in the day, like when my mom was my age, the "normal" thing to do for people when they had a major life event or illness was to bring them a dinner. Barely anybody does this anymore. Why? Have we, as a society, become so isolated and selfish that we don't consider the basic human needs of our neighbors, our friends, or that weird cat lady at the end of the block?
When we lived in our apartment in Schaumburg, our neighbors called me Bree VanDeKamp. Whenever someone new moved in, I brought over freshly baked chocolate chip cookies and a quart of milk. More times than not, the cookies were Nestle Toll House scoop & bakes but they didn't know! I got to know their names, their roommates or spouses' names, where they were from, and if they were sketchy or not. Those little cookies were like seeds in sowing a friendship. We talked to each other in the halls, kept an eye on each other's places and cars, and when we moved out they were actually sad to see us go. Why is that so "weird" nowadays that there was namecalling involved?
I don't think the isolation attitude is right, so I'm doing something about it. I'm fairly dangerous in the kitchen, so I've decided that from now on my personal ministry is going to be bringing people in need a dinner. I feel that God has given me the gift of being a good cook and baker, and it's my responsibility to use my gifts to glorify Him. So that's how I'm going to "be Jesus" to people. Jesus fed people (see: loaves and fishes). Jesus commanded us to "feed his sheep" and who am I to not take that literally?
So if you're sick, have a baby, have surgery, blow out your MCL, lose a loved one (regardless of number of legs, four legged loved ones are just as painful to lose as two legged ones), or are just having a crappy week...I'll probably ask you when I can bring dinner by.
My ministry is delicious. I'm so excited to have discovered a new way to let God continue to make me awesome.
When we lived in our apartment in Schaumburg, our neighbors called me Bree VanDeKamp. Whenever someone new moved in, I brought over freshly baked chocolate chip cookies and a quart of milk. More times than not, the cookies were Nestle Toll House scoop & bakes but they didn't know! I got to know their names, their roommates or spouses' names, where they were from, and if they were sketchy or not. Those little cookies were like seeds in sowing a friendship. We talked to each other in the halls, kept an eye on each other's places and cars, and when we moved out they were actually sad to see us go. Why is that so "weird" nowadays that there was namecalling involved?
I don't think the isolation attitude is right, so I'm doing something about it. I'm fairly dangerous in the kitchen, so I've decided that from now on my personal ministry is going to be bringing people in need a dinner. I feel that God has given me the gift of being a good cook and baker, and it's my responsibility to use my gifts to glorify Him. So that's how I'm going to "be Jesus" to people. Jesus fed people (see: loaves and fishes). Jesus commanded us to "feed his sheep" and who am I to not take that literally?
So if you're sick, have a baby, have surgery, blow out your MCL, lose a loved one (regardless of number of legs, four legged loved ones are just as painful to lose as two legged ones), or are just having a crappy week...I'll probably ask you when I can bring dinner by.
My ministry is delicious. I'm so excited to have discovered a new way to let God continue to make me awesome.
Monday, August 4, 2008
Every Mother's Worst Nightmare
Over the weekend, we had a flood in the garage. It was awful. We had beautiful weather outside, but instead of being able to enjoy it we were stuck working in the garage, trying to salvage what we could. We were kind of using it as storage space for our prepping to move stuff. So now we have tons of wet boxes and garbage, but we can't put it in the garage because the garage floor is all wet. I'm sure the association is going to find us in violation for having trash on the side of the house. Anyways....
We had a guy out to find out where the water was coming from, and we found the toilet in the master bath was leaking. This morning the guy came back to replace the toilet, and he found he needed another part. So he took off to Home Depot. He said he'd let himself out.
I had some Baby Crackstein playing in the living room for Jackson to watch and I was doing some housework. I went to go check on Jackson, and he was gone. The front door was wide open.
Thus began the longest ten minutes of my life. My heart raced, and I went into an immediate panic. I flew out the door into the pouring rain, screaming my son's name at the top of my lungs. We live about a quarter of a mile off of a very large, busy road. Every bad thing that could possibly be happening to my baby ran through my head and I could barely breathe. I ran back into the house, thinking I could cover more ground in the car so I grabbed my keys, purse and phone.
Once I was back outside, I remembered the pond across the street. Jack loves water, but he can't swim. I fearfully headed down the muddy slope to the water, expecting to see my son drowned. No sign of him at the pond. I ran back up the embankment, yelling out Jackson's name and dialed 911. As I waited on HOLD, (Dear 911: When a mother calls and says "My son is missing!" your response should NOT be "hold please") I shouted out to Jackson more and started checking all the neighbor's yards that aren't fenced in. While I was on the phone with 911, I came back around the block and saw a tiny pair of feet on the other side of the car.
Wherever he was, he must have heard me calling for him and came back to the house. He was waiting by the side of the Jeep. I told the 911 operator I found him, we came into the house, and I hung up the phone. We were both soaked from top to toe, drenched with rainwater. I was bawling my eyes out, holding him tight and never wanting to let go - my heart overwhelmed with fear, relief, panic, thankfulness my baby's safety, anger at the handyman for leaving the door open, anger at myself for having my back turned and trusting the handyman to close the door (but seriously, who leaves a front door wide open like that? Was he born in a barn?!?!?!) For his part, Jackson thought he had a super fun adventure in the rain. He was laughing and giggling and had no idea why I was so upset. He was totally clueless! The police came by a few minutes later to check on us and make sure everything was okay. He kept telling me silly things like, "Ma'am, it's alright" and "Ma'am, you need to breathe".
The handyman guy came back and let me tell you, if looks could kill I would be in jail for murder. I can give a good stinkeye, but this was stinkeye DELUXE as I asked him, "did you know you left the door open?" NOT ONLY did he ruin my $40 bath sheet, but he also let my 22 month old toddler out of the house to wander the streets. It was all I could do to keep from screaming that handyman straight out of the house, and that would have been mild compared to the can of whoop-ass I wanted to open up on him. If assault and battery weren't a crime, he would have left my house with a broken nose and a black eye!
I am now sipping on a double strength cup of chamomile tea, because I need it desperately. Jackson is watching Curious George, undoubtedly getting ideas on how else to raise a ruckus and give Mama a heart attack.
I'm done with today. Just done. Today can end now, I've had enough.
We had a guy out to find out where the water was coming from, and we found the toilet in the master bath was leaking. This morning the guy came back to replace the toilet, and he found he needed another part. So he took off to Home Depot. He said he'd let himself out.
I had some Baby Crackstein playing in the living room for Jackson to watch and I was doing some housework. I went to go check on Jackson, and he was gone. The front door was wide open.
Thus began the longest ten minutes of my life. My heart raced, and I went into an immediate panic. I flew out the door into the pouring rain, screaming my son's name at the top of my lungs. We live about a quarter of a mile off of a very large, busy road. Every bad thing that could possibly be happening to my baby ran through my head and I could barely breathe. I ran back into the house, thinking I could cover more ground in the car so I grabbed my keys, purse and phone.
Once I was back outside, I remembered the pond across the street. Jack loves water, but he can't swim. I fearfully headed down the muddy slope to the water, expecting to see my son drowned. No sign of him at the pond. I ran back up the embankment, yelling out Jackson's name and dialed 911. As I waited on HOLD, (Dear 911: When a mother calls and says "My son is missing!" your response should NOT be "hold please") I shouted out to Jackson more and started checking all the neighbor's yards that aren't fenced in. While I was on the phone with 911, I came back around the block and saw a tiny pair of feet on the other side of the car.
Wherever he was, he must have heard me calling for him and came back to the house. He was waiting by the side of the Jeep. I told the 911 operator I found him, we came into the house, and I hung up the phone. We were both soaked from top to toe, drenched with rainwater. I was bawling my eyes out, holding him tight and never wanting to let go - my heart overwhelmed with fear, relief, panic, thankfulness my baby's safety, anger at the handyman for leaving the door open, anger at myself for having my back turned and trusting the handyman to close the door (but seriously, who leaves a front door wide open like that? Was he born in a barn?!?!?!) For his part, Jackson thought he had a super fun adventure in the rain. He was laughing and giggling and had no idea why I was so upset. He was totally clueless! The police came by a few minutes later to check on us and make sure everything was okay. He kept telling me silly things like, "Ma'am, it's alright" and "Ma'am, you need to breathe".
The handyman guy came back and let me tell you, if looks could kill I would be in jail for murder. I can give a good stinkeye, but this was stinkeye DELUXE as I asked him, "did you know you left the door open?" NOT ONLY did he ruin my $40 bath sheet, but he also let my 22 month old toddler out of the house to wander the streets. It was all I could do to keep from screaming that handyman straight out of the house, and that would have been mild compared to the can of whoop-ass I wanted to open up on him. If assault and battery weren't a crime, he would have left my house with a broken nose and a black eye!
I am now sipping on a double strength cup of chamomile tea, because I need it desperately. Jackson is watching Curious George, undoubtedly getting ideas on how else to raise a ruckus and give Mama a heart attack.
I'm done with today. Just done. Today can end now, I've had enough.
Sunday, August 3, 2008
Boys are so gross!
Moose is officially in the stage where you can no longer trust everything he hands you. I was putting away laundry, distracted, when he says "here" and hands me something. Without thinking aboout it, I take it only to find it's a giant...booger. Freshly selected from his left nostril. I only know it was from the left because he was working on the right with a bit of urgency.
Despite the disgusting factor, this is still far less nasty than the time my friend's toddler tried feeding her...a turd from his diaper. Gahhhhhh!
Despite the disgusting factor, this is still far less nasty than the time my friend's toddler tried feeding her...a turd from his diaper. Gahhhhhh!
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