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Showing posts from August, 2019

Comstock Chronicles: The Summer

As I walk down the ramp leading up to the children's school, I smile at every passer-by. I can hardly believe how blessed I am. Five days a week, I get to walk my children to school in the cool of the morning. We pass bungalow and Victorian and Spanish houses along the way. The children ask me to tell them my story, and it's hard not to oblige. Then I hug them goodbye at the front door and they go in hand in hand. What a country we live in that educates our children for "free"! (Yes, I realize it's not free-free.) With a warm heart, I walk Benny home in the quietness after the morning hustle.

The summer proper has come and gone, and it saw a number of momentous events that warrant mentioning. Lee graduated from kindergarten. Benny turned one and began to walk. Grandpa Seelye went to be with Jesus. Kimmi, our studio renter, got engaged and moved out. Brittany, our house-mate moved on to live with her brother in Irvine. We met out-of-state cousins for the first tim…

Comstock Chronicles: Stitches

I have leveled up past Novice of Newborns, Apprentice of Diaper Blow-Outs, Pupil of Played-With Poop, Sensei of Spit-up, Whiz of Cloth Diapers, Sorcerer of Snot, Adept of Temper Tantrums, and Master of Barf.

I have now completed level 8: Ace of Stitches. Lee unlocked this achievement for me.

It really wasn't very difficult, nor that exciting. In the middle of some complaining related to homework, the man-child tipped over his chair and knocked his head on the tile floor. He gave himself a nice egg with a deep slice to go with it.

I'd like to think the injury taught him a lesson about messing around while doing homework, but his injury produced two lollipops, some Thomas the Tank Engine, a lego set, and donuts. Dang! Those friendly relatives emptied their treasure chests for him.

The doctors were kind and efficient at Urgent Care, and I learned a few things about such injuries. One: I don't have to rush off to Urgent Care right away. Two: Charge my phone's battery befor…

Ode to a Pink Walker

O Pink Walker,
O Rolley Chair of Danger,
Who supported the bottoms of our children
And taught them to walk,
Very fast,
We who are about to discard you,
Salute you.

You relic of the past
From an era of responsibility and danger,
In you our children ran over our toes
And rammed the bridges of our feet
Even to the point of swearing,
For you do not adhere to codes of safety—
Limiting range of motion
And preventing passage over curbs and steps.
No, in you our children had free range.

From a garage sale, you first came,
To be Lee's transport at the Taylor's.
But for Rose, we took your pinkness home,
So she could glide across our wooden floors,
Lee hitching a ride.
By you, she escaped out the kitchen door
And went down the cement steps,
Bruising black and blue.

Then after four years of dormancy,
Benny races you again
Over rug and kitchen tile.
You are the means for his success
At keeping up with his siblings.
You are the sweet revenge he wields
Stubbing Lee and Rose's toes.
But …

How People Are Offensive & Believing the Best of Them Anyways

People are offensive. And here's why:

1) People do things differently than me. I like to have a clear workspace; others like to have their items all over the place. I find this annoying, especially if we have to share spaces because, not only do I like my way more, I also think it's better. Sometimes my ways are better; sometimes they aren't.

2) People's words can brush up against my insecurities. For example, I'm not very good at doing my kids' hair consistently or really at all, so if I'm around a parent who starts gushing about the type of gel they buy for their son's hair, I might feel insecure or annoyed or inept. No harm was meant, but I might be offended anyways.

3) People don't meet my expectations. Like I ask them about their day and spend a good amount of time listening to their story, and then they hurry away without inquiring about my day. I am resentful because I was listening with the hope of being listened to. I expected something in …

Everyone's Painted Red

I have a tendency to think God is beside me on this side of the "goodness" chasm. I've chosen to believe, and I've walked across the bridge, which is belief in Christ's work on the cross. I've made it to God's side because Christ spanned the chasm between this side and that one. I'm God's friend now. I'm good.

But all those other people, especially the ones I don't like or who cause me to prickle, they're on the other side of the chasm, the "bad" side. I'm looking at them across the gap. And I shout at them. "You should come over here where I am! This is where God is! I'll be happy to tell you how to get here!" And then frequently I give them instructions that have nothing to do with Christ.

But what if this chasm and bridge analogy is good for understanding Christ's work, but not good for understanding our position? What if it's more like God in his mercy has brought all people over to his side of t…

Our Biggest Challenge Regarding Finances

I think our biggest challenge has been to include God in all areas of our finances not just faith promise or when money gets tight. It’s just too easy to leave him out and believe that we can figure it out on our own.

I have a tendency to think I can figure it out on my own because I’m an INTJ and good at money management. I’m organized and I know how to operate Quickbooks. God gave me these talents so I could use them. Right? I mean, mature Christians shouldn’t have to bug God about everything.

But I’m learning this is a false view. It makes God out to be a god who helps those who helps themselves or who demonstrates his approval of us through worldly success.

It also assumes some false things about myself: namely that I am able to find out God’s will on my own and that his will will coincide with common sense and being money wise and making a good retirement plan—all good things, but not guaranteed to be God’s way.

Thankfully, God has been in the business of grinding down my small view…