When I accepted Jesus I was eight years old and it was at a Southern Baptist Church in San Pablo, California. I just decided one day that I was ready. No one spoke to me about it—yes, God was in our home, but I never felt pressured—Jesus was there and I was ready for Him.
I wanted the same for my children. I wanted it to be a quiet, peaceful union—between the two of them—Jesus and my child. My daughter ask Jesus in her heart when she was nine years old and she was in her room. She didn’t make a big announcement about it; however she did tell me shortly, she knew my husband and I would want to know. We were so happy and thankful.
Our son is a different story. Currently he is in the fourth grade. Getting information out of him if it doesn’t relate to sports or his friends can be difficult. I know he loves the Lord—I just want to know more.
Time was ticking and I’m not the most patient person on the planet, so while I was doing dishes the other night and my son was working on his homework, I decided to ask him if he ever thought of asking Jesus into his heart.
Without hesitating he replied, “Oh yeah, I did that last year on the playground at school.” ‘What’ was my first thought, followed by—‘on the playground!’ He continued, “Yeah, we talked in class about how Jesus needs to be in your life and how you need to ask him into your heart and I thought I haven’t done that yet, so when I went out on the playground at recess it felt like Jesus was walking with me, so I asked Him if he’d like to come into my heart and make me whole—and that was it.”
At this point I was crying while I was doing dishes and I let the water run. I thought how blessed we are that my son goes to a school where they are feeding his soul just as much as they are feeding his mind. And on the playground he wasn’t walking with one of his friends, he was walking with Jesus.
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Monday, March 22, 2010
Revealing
Since my outing with Thor—we have become (drum roll please) “athletes”. We run about five to six days a week and our distance varies from 1.75 miles to 3.5 miles. Okay trust me we aren’t sprinting the entire way—we do our warm-up walk . Then we start our jog and Thor being the beast he is requires a cool down walk for about two blocks prior to getting home.
Actually since we became “athletes” Thor listens better and heels, and best yet he isn’t that interested in attacking anyone else’s dog (so embarrassing!). However, you can see his eyes dart off to look at the other person’s dog as we jog pass—I can almost hear him say to the dog, “next time, you just wait, you’ll be mine.”
In my head I have this vision of the two of us jogging, looking like true athletes—I even joke about it at work—they are sick of hearing me gloat. Thor is a big muscular dog and I’m tall, we must look fabulous I think to myself.
The other day my daughter wanted to join us so I let her. She had just gotten over the flu so I thought it best not to run, instead we took a long walk. At one point my daughter asked if she could hold Thor’s lead. He looked tired and we didn’t see any dogs around so I handed the leash over to her.
The two of them moved ahead of me and before I knew it they started a light jog. Oh wow! Thor looked like a pig running, not this big massive, muscular animal I had created in my mind—he looked hysterical! His movements weren’t anything I thought, his legs barely moved—it was like they were stiff and he kind of waddled. Then there was the drool that was constantly coming out of his mouth splashing on to the concrete which looked like something you’d see in an alien movie—what an awakening.
Now my daughter on the other hand had a beautiful gait—she looked lovely, no doubt takes after her mother… Or so I hope!
Actually since we became “athletes” Thor listens better and heels, and best yet he isn’t that interested in attacking anyone else’s dog (so embarrassing!). However, you can see his eyes dart off to look at the other person’s dog as we jog pass—I can almost hear him say to the dog, “next time, you just wait, you’ll be mine.”
In my head I have this vision of the two of us jogging, looking like true athletes—I even joke about it at work—they are sick of hearing me gloat. Thor is a big muscular dog and I’m tall, we must look fabulous I think to myself.
The other day my daughter wanted to join us so I let her. She had just gotten over the flu so I thought it best not to run, instead we took a long walk. At one point my daughter asked if she could hold Thor’s lead. He looked tired and we didn’t see any dogs around so I handed the leash over to her.
The two of them moved ahead of me and before I knew it they started a light jog. Oh wow! Thor looked like a pig running, not this big massive, muscular animal I had created in my mind—he looked hysterical! His movements weren’t anything I thought, his legs barely moved—it was like they were stiff and he kind of waddled. Then there was the drool that was constantly coming out of his mouth splashing on to the concrete which looked like something you’d see in an alien movie—what an awakening.
Now my daughter on the other hand had a beautiful gait—she looked lovely, no doubt takes after her mother… Or so I hope!
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Eye of the Tiger
Most of you know I have a dog. A big dog by most people’s standards—he’s a Dogue De Bordeaux or for us “Americans” a French Mastiff and being two he’s not quite up to his fighting weight, but he’s about 125 (yeah, I wish I was 125) but whatever. Anyway, Thor, that’s his name, and I walk a lot in our neighborhood and we have developed two different routes— long and short.
Thor’s pretty smart, when we are on the long route and we haven’t walked in a while, he knows the short-cuts and tries to make the turns to go home sooner. I pull him and tell him “no way mister, all the way!” and he looks at me like “really, I know you want to go home, there’s chocolate waiting for you.”
So last Friday when I got home from work I decided we’d go out of our comfort zone and leave the “compound” of our neighborhood and walk to where my son was practicing basketball at Creekside school—no more than a four mile walk at the most.
My daughter looked frightened when I told her where we were going—“bring your phone” she warned me…. “Yeah, yeah,” I replied, tucking my cell phone in my sweat pants pocket.
Thor and I leave the house and turn the opposite direction than we ever have—he looked at me like “what the heck!” Before I know it we are on the streets of Rohnert Part at night and it looks a lot different. Cars are whizzing by, the lights are so bright, Thor went from looking like a big tough Mastiff to a shaking Chihuahua. “It’s okay Thor,” I told him, “we’re good.” Honestly, I started to get a little scared myself, but for my dog, I had to stay strong.
The estimated 25 minute walk was taking much longer than I thought, so I decided it would be best to jog, I looked at Thor and stated these four little words, “Eye of the Tiger” and away we went. He never went ahead of me, or behind me, just to my side like a true partner—we jogged like we had been doing it for years, and we didn’t stop we just kept going until we got to the school—my husband said it was the adrenal, I say it’s because Thor and I are really “athletes” in the making.
Anyway, we finally made it to the school and my phone starts ringing from my panicked daughter. I don’t see my husband’s car so I call him. He tells me he’s at his brother’s house and he’ll be there shortly. I look in the gym to find my son and I don’t see him, wait I don’t see anyone I know… I call my husband back, he informs me they moved the practice to another school’s gym and it’s another three miles down the road—didn’t I know that?
Thor’s pretty smart, when we are on the long route and we haven’t walked in a while, he knows the short-cuts and tries to make the turns to go home sooner. I pull him and tell him “no way mister, all the way!” and he looks at me like “really, I know you want to go home, there’s chocolate waiting for you.”
So last Friday when I got home from work I decided we’d go out of our comfort zone and leave the “compound” of our neighborhood and walk to where my son was practicing basketball at Creekside school—no more than a four mile walk at the most.
My daughter looked frightened when I told her where we were going—“bring your phone” she warned me…. “Yeah, yeah,” I replied, tucking my cell phone in my sweat pants pocket.
Thor and I leave the house and turn the opposite direction than we ever have—he looked at me like “what the heck!” Before I know it we are on the streets of Rohnert Part at night and it looks a lot different. Cars are whizzing by, the lights are so bright, Thor went from looking like a big tough Mastiff to a shaking Chihuahua. “It’s okay Thor,” I told him, “we’re good.” Honestly, I started to get a little scared myself, but for my dog, I had to stay strong.
The estimated 25 minute walk was taking much longer than I thought, so I decided it would be best to jog, I looked at Thor and stated these four little words, “Eye of the Tiger” and away we went. He never went ahead of me, or behind me, just to my side like a true partner—we jogged like we had been doing it for years, and we didn’t stop we just kept going until we got to the school—my husband said it was the adrenal, I say it’s because Thor and I are really “athletes” in the making.
Anyway, we finally made it to the school and my phone starts ringing from my panicked daughter. I don’t see my husband’s car so I call him. He tells me he’s at his brother’s house and he’ll be there shortly. I look in the gym to find my son and I don’t see him, wait I don’t see anyone I know… I call my husband back, he informs me they moved the practice to another school’s gym and it’s another three miles down the road—didn’t I know that?
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Hola 2010
Christmas is just two days away and I’m already worried about my New Year’s resolution. I make one every year. And break it every year. They are all very doable, all things that would probably make me a better person, but... BUT!
So for 2010 my New Year’s resolution should be something different. I was thinking maybe I should learn another language. Perhaps I should take up Spanish. I have a very good friend that speaks it fluently and I love to hear her speak Spanish to her family, it sounds lovely and I so wish I could understand what she is saying.
I took Spanish in high school as a freshman, the problem was I had a huge crush on a senior that was in my class, and so instead of spending time listening to the lessons, I spent my time plotting how he would ask me out. He did ask me out –success! However I barely passed the class - fail.
So now all I can say is “No hable español” and for dire emergencies I did learn, “Dos Equis por favor”—What? A girl’s gotta drink!
Cheers to you! & Happy New Year :o)
So for 2010 my New Year’s resolution should be something different. I was thinking maybe I should learn another language. Perhaps I should take up Spanish. I have a very good friend that speaks it fluently and I love to hear her speak Spanish to her family, it sounds lovely and I so wish I could understand what she is saying.
I took Spanish in high school as a freshman, the problem was I had a huge crush on a senior that was in my class, and so instead of spending time listening to the lessons, I spent my time plotting how he would ask me out. He did ask me out –success! However I barely passed the class - fail.
So now all I can say is “No hable español” and for dire emergencies I did learn, “Dos Equis por favor”—What? A girl’s gotta drink!
Cheers to you! & Happy New Year :o)
Monday, December 14, 2009
I Have an Illness...
I love Christmas. I love the meaning of the holiday, I love the music, I love the traditions my family has—I LOVE IT! I really, really, really love the shopping.
When asking my kids what they wanted for Christmas my 14 year old daughter was easy, too easy. Rain boots, a big canvas bag, new sweater and some “Toms” shoes (you know the kind that makes a donation of a similar pair of shoes to a kid in need—yeah, she’s that girl). Wow, I can get all this stuff on a lunch-break and still have time for a latte, I need a holiday hustle! My son, he’s eight, he’s gotta have something hard on his list.
Before going to him I go online and research what the “it” toy of the season is. I discover it’s called the Zhu Zhu Hamster. Most stores are sold-out, and the $9.99 toy is selling on eBay for $45.00! Hmmm I think to myself, he’s never talked about this, but you never know.
I approach my son and bring up his favorite subject, what does he want for Christmas? He goes on and on about different video games, and then he mentions a Lego set, oh and some cool clothes (yeah and 8 year old wants clothes)… Nothing about the “it” toy. This is going to be no fun.com in my world. So I ask him if he has ever heard of the Zhu Zhu Hamster. He says, ‘yeah, they look cheap.’ ‘Really,’ I think to myself $45.00 on eBay is not cheap! Clearly my hunting and gathering skills are not going to be put to any use this season… Unless… ‘Do you think you’d like to have one to play with your cat (he loves his cat!) wouldn’t that be fun?’ ‘Sure,’ he says ‘but if it doesn’t happen I wouldn’t be crushed.’
That’s good enough for me! The hunt is on and I better get one for my daughter too, what if she wanted one, I mean she still a kid too, right? I’m going to ToysRUs first thing in the morning I heard they get new toy shipments every other day…. I know, I know.
Hello, my name is Karen and I have a serious problem. Merry Christmas!
When asking my kids what they wanted for Christmas my 14 year old daughter was easy, too easy. Rain boots, a big canvas bag, new sweater and some “Toms” shoes (you know the kind that makes a donation of a similar pair of shoes to a kid in need—yeah, she’s that girl). Wow, I can get all this stuff on a lunch-break and still have time for a latte, I need a holiday hustle! My son, he’s eight, he’s gotta have something hard on his list.
Before going to him I go online and research what the “it” toy of the season is. I discover it’s called the Zhu Zhu Hamster. Most stores are sold-out, and the $9.99 toy is selling on eBay for $45.00! Hmmm I think to myself, he’s never talked about this, but you never know.
I approach my son and bring up his favorite subject, what does he want for Christmas? He goes on and on about different video games, and then he mentions a Lego set, oh and some cool clothes (yeah and 8 year old wants clothes)… Nothing about the “it” toy. This is going to be no fun.com in my world. So I ask him if he has ever heard of the Zhu Zhu Hamster. He says, ‘yeah, they look cheap.’ ‘Really,’ I think to myself $45.00 on eBay is not cheap! Clearly my hunting and gathering skills are not going to be put to any use this season… Unless… ‘Do you think you’d like to have one to play with your cat (he loves his cat!) wouldn’t that be fun?’ ‘Sure,’ he says ‘but if it doesn’t happen I wouldn’t be crushed.’
That’s good enough for me! The hunt is on and I better get one for my daughter too, what if she wanted one, I mean she still a kid too, right? I’m going to ToysRUs first thing in the morning I heard they get new toy shipments every other day…. I know, I know.
Hello, my name is Karen and I have a serious problem. Merry Christmas!
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
A Letter
So I started going to church regularly about a year ago… About the same time I lost my job, funny how that all works. Anyway, I really like the church I go to, it is very casual and they don’t hover all over you when you walk in the door. The pastor wears jeans and Hawaiian shirts and his sermons are a combination of stand-up comedy and listening to a good friend, so the time flies and I get a lot out of it.
This summer our eight year-old son decided he wanted to play football (he wanted to play last year too, but I told him no and that he would have to wait until he was eight)… He remembered—can’t remember anything else but he remembered this. Unfortunately most of his games were on Sundays so we missed church. We received a card from our pastor saying he missed us and hopes to see us soon—‘nice’ I thought.
Football had just ended and our son’s basketball beginnings and wouldn’t you know it, a lot of Sunday games! Anyway I get a letter in the mail and it is from our church, addressed to me and it looks long and inside there is four post-it notes with the same women’s names on it, including mine—five names in total. The letter starts off with…Life is busy and how we need to make time. I go no further.
In my head I go to a very bad place. As much as I like my church I am very upset that they would just “assume” that I would want to join a women’s Bible study or women’s group. I start to get really mad. Do they not realize my daily drive to work? Do they not realize that I have a family to take care of? And forget about the weekends if I am not doing a 101 choirs, juggling shopping, walking the dog or going to my kids’ sporting events I’m trying to have fun—even if it kills me! Oh I was fuming. That’s it, I told myself, don’t even read the letter, tear it up and throw it away.
A couple days later I picked up the letter right where I had left it. Okay just read what they have to say, call them and let them know you are not available. End of story. So as I read the letter it says, “…life is so busy and we were hoping you could make the time to pray for the women listed on the post-it note, we gave you duplicates for your busy lives…”
There were other things on the letter, but overall they just wanted folks to pray for each other. I was shocked, tears filled my eyes and I felt so ashamed and guilty for being so self-centered. Pray for someone and they are going to pray for me too? So daily I pray for women I don’t know and it feels great and the thought that they are saying a prayer for me is simply amazing and such a blessing… Amen.
This summer our eight year-old son decided he wanted to play football (he wanted to play last year too, but I told him no and that he would have to wait until he was eight)… He remembered—can’t remember anything else but he remembered this. Unfortunately most of his games were on Sundays so we missed church. We received a card from our pastor saying he missed us and hopes to see us soon—‘nice’ I thought.
Football had just ended and our son’s basketball beginnings and wouldn’t you know it, a lot of Sunday games! Anyway I get a letter in the mail and it is from our church, addressed to me and it looks long and inside there is four post-it notes with the same women’s names on it, including mine—five names in total. The letter starts off with…Life is busy and how we need to make time. I go no further.
In my head I go to a very bad place. As much as I like my church I am very upset that they would just “assume” that I would want to join a women’s Bible study or women’s group. I start to get really mad. Do they not realize my daily drive to work? Do they not realize that I have a family to take care of? And forget about the weekends if I am not doing a 101 choirs, juggling shopping, walking the dog or going to my kids’ sporting events I’m trying to have fun—even if it kills me! Oh I was fuming. That’s it, I told myself, don’t even read the letter, tear it up and throw it away.
A couple days later I picked up the letter right where I had left it. Okay just read what they have to say, call them and let them know you are not available. End of story. So as I read the letter it says, “…life is so busy and we were hoping you could make the time to pray for the women listed on the post-it note, we gave you duplicates for your busy lives…”
There were other things on the letter, but overall they just wanted folks to pray for each other. I was shocked, tears filled my eyes and I felt so ashamed and guilty for being so self-centered. Pray for someone and they are going to pray for me too? So daily I pray for women I don’t know and it feels great and the thought that they are saying a prayer for me is simply amazing and such a blessing… Amen.
Monday, December 7, 2009
Ornaments of Life
As I decorate the tree for Christmas it amazes me how the tree really represents my adult life. I have ornaments from my early twenties that my husband and I hand painted—wooden cats, we were too broke for anything else and at the time I thought he was perfect just like our ornaments.
As years went by I joined the Disney Ornament Club. I could hardly wait each month as a new “piece” would arrive. Then in my thirties I received the lovely and I have to say the most precious handmade ornaments by my kids. Handprints with their photo and name on it, or the lovely popsicle snowflake with way too much glitter or wads of fabric and buttons that they don’t even remember what it is and I have to tell them “that is a car.”
I also acquired beautiful ornaments from my previous job as a product development director, several are fine china and are exquisite and cost quite a bit. I found that I started putting these “named brand” ornaments in front of the tree and pushing the handmade gems in the back and forget about the hand painted cats, I didn’t even put them up any more.
So this year as I pull the ornaments out I started to think what was important to me. The popsicle snowflake is right in-front—what a show stopper. And for the wooden cats, they too have come out of the box this year. Yes I see the fault in the painting we did all those years ago, however the love is still there, so deep and true—isn’t that what Christmas is about?
As years went by I joined the Disney Ornament Club. I could hardly wait each month as a new “piece” would arrive. Then in my thirties I received the lovely and I have to say the most precious handmade ornaments by my kids. Handprints with their photo and name on it, or the lovely popsicle snowflake with way too much glitter or wads of fabric and buttons that they don’t even remember what it is and I have to tell them “that is a car.”
I also acquired beautiful ornaments from my previous job as a product development director, several are fine china and are exquisite and cost quite a bit. I found that I started putting these “named brand” ornaments in front of the tree and pushing the handmade gems in the back and forget about the hand painted cats, I didn’t even put them up any more.
So this year as I pull the ornaments out I started to think what was important to me. The popsicle snowflake is right in-front—what a show stopper. And for the wooden cats, they too have come out of the box this year. Yes I see the fault in the painting we did all those years ago, however the love is still there, so deep and true—isn’t that what Christmas is about?
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