Guest Bedroom Makeover

My beach house has a fairly typical layout for the cape cod style beach houses that were built in the 1940's and 50's. Most of them have a staircase that leads to a second floor that originally was wide open. Families would put several twin beds up there and the kids and their friends would take that floor. Over time walls were put up and perhaps a closet. Ours was no different. While there are technically two bedrooms on the second floor, neither of them have a door. You reach the top of the steps and go left or right. Many years ago, when I had the rooms painted, we decided to paint them both in Disney colors so that Maddie could use one side for her bedroom and the other for a playroom.

About four years ago, at thirteen, she felt the need to paint her side a little more sophisticated and chose a pale grey with black trim. We decided recently to repaint both sides and brighten it up some. We did her room first and she is using a pale teal or aqua as an accent color. The room is a light sand color, Behr Paint "Oyster" and the trim is a pale cream, almost white. It's very nice but I'm not allowed to post any photos of it.

The other room had become a place for storage over the last several years and still had the Disney paint - a pale green called Tinkerbell and a lavendar that I can't remember the name of. Last year we had a hurricane and needed to evacuate. Although my brother and his wife have no children living with them, they have two spare bedrooms and welcomed us to stay with them for a few days. After we returned home, I vowed to redo that spare room so that if ever we had friends in need, they would have a comfortable room to come to. 

Making changes to the house has been so much easier of late. The man in my life is extremely handy and seems to never tire of doing things for me around the house. In the beginning of our relationship he heard me lamenting that I had very little storage space and took it upon himself to lay plywood in the attic space so that I could store things under the eaves. It is amazing how much space that created. I have all the Christmas stuff on one side with room to spare and have barely begun to start putting things on the other side. Maddie and I put a coat of primer on the walls in her room and he took over from there, completing her room. And this last weekend I helped while he did the bulk of the spare room. There is still a bit to do in there, so I'm not going to reveal the room yet, but I will give you a taste of what it looked like before we got started and in a couple of weeks will have the room complete for posting photos.

 I'll give you a little hint about what's going to be in the new room. The bed that you see with the taupe and cream seashell quilt will be part of the room. And this beautiful, aged, salmon dresser will be in the room too. I'm so excited - working on throw pillows for the bed and a few other touches. Stay tuned!

Mother's Day #17

Before my daughter put gas in her car today, I asked her to make note of how many miles were on the trip odometer. 262. In just over a week, the car has gone 262 miles. Couple that with perhaps another 250 miles that she has driven my car without me in it, and she's driven a little over 500 miles on her own. When she gets ready to leave where ever she has gone, she calls me and says she's on her way home. Each time that phone rings and I see her number, for a moment I panic that I might pick up the phone and hear her sobbing on the other end, "Mommy?"

In the last year, since she first got her learner's permit and then her full license, I have come to realize that the only way a mother survives the years of raising her children is to completely live in denial. Denial that every time you turn away someone might snatch them. Denial that every time they walk out the door, it might be the last time you see them. And we must be tough. Tough when they do something foolish and have to face the consequences. Tough when they are hurt and you can't let them see how terrified you are about that deep cut or that finger that is bent in an odd position.

Being a mother has required so much more of me than I initially thought. It's certainly not for cowards, although we come across our fair share of them. The ones who care more about being their child's friend than their parent. The ones who do science projects for them. The ones who refuse to believe that their child could do something wrong.

Recently, I saw the movie Soul Surfer about Bethany Hamilton, the teenaged surfer who lost her arm in a shark attack. When I came home I asked Maddie, "How could you say that's one of your favorite movies? That was terrible!" And I told her, "If I stopped to think about the things that could happen to you every time you walk out that door, you'd never go anywhere!" I was actually sobbing about watching this family go through this terrible event. And my sweet daughter hugged me and assured me that she wasn't going to be eaten by a shark. I suspect she was mocking me, but I was grateful for the hug.

On Sunday, I will enjoy my 17th Mother's Day. In spite of the dangers that lurk behind every single corner, I honestly wouldn't change one moment of it. Being a mom has been the most joyful and rewarding "job" I've ever had. Being a mom has made me a better person. And most importantly, I have spent 17 years being the mother of a fantastic and smart and funny and beautiful girl. I have been blessed by God beyond my wildest imagination.

Happy Easter

I have a soft spot for people who have had less than wonderful experiences with the Christian church. I've been involved in a couple of different churches that, in my humble opinion, were rigid and unforgiving in their orthodoxy or adherence to their own dogma. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not speaking of adherence to the Bible. I'm referring to their set of rules that are, how shall we say, "extra-biblical." In a meeting with the leaders of my last church, it was suggested that I had issues with "submission," to which I responded that I was not against submitting to Christ and the Word of God, but that I would not ever submit to authority which was not biblical. For this, and other defiances, my membership in that particular church was revoked. The letter spoke of the spirit of reconciliation which in their language translated to my confessing my sin and submitting to whatever punishment they would administer, which I suspect would have included some public admission of my divisive behavior. With that in mind, on Easter morning, I give you my favorite story from the Bible, that of the Apostle Thomas.


"On the evening of that first day of the week, when the disciples were together, with the doors locked for fear of the Jewish leaders, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you!” ²⁰ After he said this, he showed them his hands and side. The disciples were overjoyed when they saw the Lord.

 ²¹ Again Jesus said, “Peace be with you! As the Father has sent me, I am sending you.” ²² And with that he breathed on them and said, “Receive the Holy Spirit. ²³ If you forgive anyone’s sins, their sins are forgiven; if you do not forgive them, they are not forgiven.”

 ²⁴ Now Thomas (also known as Didymus^[a]), one of the Twelve, was not with the disciples when Jesus came. ²⁵So the other disciples told him, “We have seen the Lord!”

   But he said to them, “Unless I see the nail marks in his hands and put my finger where the nails were, and put my hand into his side, I will not believe.”

 ²⁶ A week later his disciples were in the house again, and Thomas was with them. Though the doors were locked, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you!” ²⁷ Then he said to Thomas, “Put your finger here; see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it into my side. Stop doubting and believe.”

 ²⁸ Thomas said to him, “My Lord and my God!”

 ²⁹ Then Jesus told him, “Because you have seen me, you have believed; blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.” ~ John 20:20-29

I have had dozens of opportunities to share this story with friends on their path to belief, or rededication of their belief. The religion of my childhood, which was followed by a long period of disinterest in religion, was one of few answers. Obedience to the Mass was understood; it just was. It seemed as if everyone involved in my Catholic upbringing didn't have answers to any of my questions. In fairness, however, I wasn't exactly thorough in my seeking. I sort of just drifted away. Over my early adult years, I had no interest in the church although I considered myself a believer. And finally, the thing that led me back to the Lord was becoming a parent - something I suspect is behind many people's return to their faith. 

This time, however, I began seeking in the Protestant community and learned through my first church to test the scriptures and take an active part in my spiritual growth rather than just sitting passively to one person's preaching. It was during this time that I heard the story of Thomas and he became my hero. All of my life and in conversations with others, one of the most confusing things was this idea that one does not question God. Yet, here at the end of John's Gospel, is a story not only of the questions and doubts of one of Jesus' disciples, but of a Savior who lovingly invites this disciple to test for himself that He has in fact returned in the flesh. Even writing this, I am overcome with emotion as I read (for the hundredth time) how Jesus tenderly approaches Thomas and says, “Put your finger here; see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it into my side. Stop doubting and believe.”

And I can picture Thomas, so very, very ashamed, weeping as he simply says, "My Lord and my God." I imagine him clinging to Jesus as that moment and sobbing, "I am so sorry to have doubted." But Jesus isn't angry or upset. He probably hugs Thomas as he cries and says, "It's okay, it's okay." 

Oh, how I remember the moments as my belief became stronger and stronger. And how I was ashamed to have not only doubted but to have not even recognized the many obvious signs that my Lord and my God was right there, all along just waiting for me to pay Him the slightest attention. When I think back on the time that I was truly lost and alone, I imagine him just watching me stumble and wander. I think about my own child and how painful it would be to watch her make mistakes and hurtful choices knowing that I could not make her see that I was right there for her until she OPENED her eyes. It would have been like watching a blind person in a maze - wanting to reach out and help but knowing that they had to do this on their own. 

My message on this Easter morning to anyone who has any questions - God is big enough to handle any questions, any anger, any doubt you can possibly throw His way. And His arms are open for you to step in when you are ready. And He LIVES! When I turned to Him, I truly had no where else to go and I was so afraid. What if this was the last possibility and it did not work? I did not cross that line easily or willingly - but He has never held that against me. Not for a second. And this life is infinitely better than anything I had even dared to dream of.

Problems vs. Challenges

I've always admired those people who never see problems - only challenges. As I've thought and prayed about and mainly tried to ignore my word for the year, discipline, I've realized that I have an attitude problem. Stop laughing - I am generally the last to know when it comes to reading myself. I don't think I'm unique in this cycle of setting goals, dragging my feet, disappointing myself, then dragging my feet about starting the whole process over again.

As an example, I'll talk about my lack of discipline when it comes to exercise. A few years ago, I lost about 25 pounds and worked out diligently and got in probably the best shape I've been in since I got pregnant over 17 years ago. I felt great, I was energetic, and I looked forward to getting outside or to the gym. I was diligent and disciplined for about nine months, and then I went on vacation. My best friend and my daughter and I went to Florida in May and went out to dinner and enjoyed dessert every night. I had packed my walking shoes and planned to walk on the beach daily. I think I did it twice. When we returned home, I never got back into my workout routine and within two years I'd put all the weight back on and developed back and neck issues which only drained my desire to get moving.

I am not unique in this. It happens to many people. We find out how great we feel when we exercise and eat right, yet we find it so difficult to maintain that discipline. For me, I think a lot of the issue is self-talk. I'll go to bed thinking I'm going to get up early and walk or go to the gym, but when the alarm goes off my first thoughts are negative. If I can talk myself out of doing what's right, why can't I talk myself into it? In spite of choosing discipline as my word of the year, I've really not done much to embrace a more disciplined lifestyle. I can spend hours thinking about whether it makes more sense to go to the gym early and then come home and shower and dress for work or to take my clothes with me and shower there. There's the problem of having a lock and packing all the things you need. Or, if I come home after, will I get distracted by things that need to be done around here rather than get myself to the office. Sometimes it doesn't help to be the boss. It makes it too easy for a person without discipline to go in at 10:30!

Last night I set the alarm for 6:00 a.m. I lept out of bed around 7:00 and then drank coffee and checked the internet. Finally, I packed a bag and left the house. I decided to drop off everything I wouldn't need at the gym at the office first so that I wouldn't lose everything if someone broke into my car in the gym parking lot (which has happened to others). I waltzed into the gym at 9:20 and was showered and dressed for work by 10:30. Alright, so I need to improve on that, but I got it done! On the way home this evening, I asked my daughter if she wanted me to take her to school tomorrow. She has to be there by 7:15, so I've committed to getting to the gym a little earlier tomorrow.

It's only taken me two months from my resolution to actually get there. Next goal: Actually wanting to go!

Lists

I made some progress today in my quest to become more disciplined. First, I made two lists of things I want to accomplish: One entitled "Discipline" lists the things I want to be sure to do every day. The second is a "Home Projects List" which contains the things I'd like to accomplish around the beach house this year.

The teenager that lives here had a most pathetic weekend - having nothing else to do, she hung out with me yesterday. We went to the grocery store and then out for dinner. Today she graciously completed all the chores I gave her while we both rocked around the house listening to our separate ITunes! And that included doing the two chores I hate the most vacuuming and cleaning the bathroom. She helps me out alot.

I made a new recipe Slow Cooker Cuban Chicken - a recipe I got from a new magazine from Better Homes and Garden's "Skinny Slow Cooker"Magazine.

While this was cooking, I took a walk down past the beach to the marina. There was no one there, just the sound of the water against the few boats still in the water. On my list this morning, I listed 30 minutes of exercise. It was a nice walk and I took a few minutes to sit on the dock and just reflect.

Some Crazy Juju

In the "about me" section of this blog, it mentions that I have an estranged relationship with the church but not with God. So, recently I made a comment on the Facebook page of a Christian author that I've come to respect and enjoy and we've even exchanged some emails. After a few other people commented, I was invited to join this group of people who feel that they've been involved in churches that are spiritually abusive, and some of them personally sent me friend requests. While it took me about 7 years to get kicked out of my church, I lasted in this group for less than a week. In fact, I think I made less than five comments during my tenure with the group. I'm feeling a lot better now. Turns out, I'm a couple years past the anger and sadness, but they've chosen to make a cottage industry out of it. They welcomed me by telling me that I didn't have to worry about judgment or condemnation here like I had found in the church and that I was among friends. This is the kiss of death it turns out. I did not have to worry about judgment or condemnation as long as I was willing to listen to their near constant judgment and condemnation of the church - and certain high-profile pastors and their followers. Life is too short and God is too good, I can't live there anymore. I wish them all the best. Amen.

DISCIPLINE

So I've picked my word for the year: Discipline. Discipline has a few definitions but for my use the word will be defined as follows:

• training that molds or perfects the mental faculties 
• self-control gained by orderly patterns of behavior

It is no surprise to those that know me. I am not disciplined. I have a hard time with schedules. I own my own business and I homeschooled my child for seven years, and I believe those choices, in large part, were due to my lack of discipline and that I don't play well with authority. My poor kid - it's a wonder she's survived. On any given day, she is the most mature person in the house.

That's it. I've picked my word of the year. If you'll excuse me, I'm going to go cry.