Moses, The Man I Married

So I married Moses. I don't say that because I'm religiously fixated in my marital brain. In fact, the concept is new to me. I learned this at my Uncle's house during my brother's farewell cookout. (Which, by the way, I'm planning a trip far away so I can have a barbeque too. Mom says to wait til the hype dies down.)

Him (Moses) and my brother (the star of the cookout) were throwing their air into floaties for the children's pool celebration (you know, farewell cookout and all).

My cousin (the first one) seeing Him slightly winded (airing up floatie #2) rallied Him "Come on, Moses!"

Perhaps this icon title is owed to all the hair on Him's face. Yet I am just thrilled with the news. I married Moses!

I'm Thinking, Leave a Message

It seems to me that, although I am very young still, I do have a tendancy to think very sluggishly. Trickling through the cracks of time, I find myself looking backward: Once, Twice, Thrice. Is that a complete thought I see back there from yesterday?

My brother having left home for a voyage Far Away has kept me thinking in more sporatic bursts of vigor, leaving me open to new ideas, but still lacking creativity home-wise.

Thoughts scramble around each other in my tiny head: Will Him eat all the Dark Chocolate Dreams (chocolate peanut butter)? Why didn't I buy five jars instead of one (chocolate peanut butter)? Where DID all these books come from anyway? And - Why do I still have them in my possession (the books)?

How is it that in this simple mind-frame I become less and less opinionated and more increasingly TENSE. Watching my demeanor should notify even the stranger: I'M THINKING - TAKE A NUMBER. This can't possibly be healthy for me nor for Them (my public, that is).

Punctuation relocates all over my thought-process leaving me confused? Why is there a question mark there! Who. Did. This. Anyway.

You may find good reason in such babblish thoughts, yet I am left editing Yesterday's Script. Hello? Please leave a message - I am thinking.

How "Mt. Laundry" Was Conquered

It was a dismal job. Nobody wanted to do it. But the mountain had to be moved.


We sorted. We washed. We dried. We folded.



As I brought in basket after basket of long-collected clothing, my children began picking and choosing their "Favorites".



Here was the plan: Each one of us were assigned a rack with a shelf. Whatever fit on that rack, we could keep. Whatever did not fit – had to go.



It was tedious. It was long. More than once we dared to rest, but never gave up. It was only by God’s grace. We were in too deep. Waist deep.



We called to each other over the mountain, and over the sounds of the washer and the dryer; each plodding along in painful noisome affairs. The task HAD to be completed!



We encouraged each other. We yelled at each other. We prayed together.




For those of you who know us well, you will believe me when I say – IT TOOK DAYSSSS.



But. The mountain HAD to be moved.


At first the children delighted in all the hum and buzz. At first, it was exciting. But then the clothes stopped fitting on the racks. The careless, effortless task was becoming thought-provoking.

There were choices to make. Decisions to be made. The tediousness of it wearied us. But we dared not give in. The mountain – Had to be moved.

Bags and boxes filled our porch hourly. Bags and boxes left our porch daily as they were taken to the church for the upcoming sale. We plowed along merrily; steadily; thinkingly and mostly – prayingly.


Evidence of the progress occurred and reoccurred in small heaps here … and there … as we journeyed along – hanging items; then discarding them to make room for the better items.



WE. DID. NOT. GIVE. UP.



My friends, I am here to tell you: Mark 11:23 is no lie. The mountain WILL BE moved! God is faithful, and despite the weariness of it all, we are almost there to complesion! I am the last one to get it all out. But I am not giving up. The mountain WILL BE MOVED!!!