Our house has been for sale ten months.

Every single day I think about it. Every single time the phone rings, I hope it’s a realtor. Every single day I clean house, hoping for someone to come and want to live here.

We’ve had a good life in this house, but living here is not a good situation for our family anymore. Every day it seems like we add another reason to the list of why we need to move.

Just a few:
1. School. While homeschooling is great, and it is such a wonderful thing for so many families, it’s not the best thing for us right now. We don’t have a permanent spot in the house to set up school, and when Paisley is home we can’t work. When the realtor calls and wants to show the house, we have to shut down school. The inconsistency is killing us, and my son deserves better than that.
2. The Drive. We live 20 minutes away from everything we do. We are so involved in our church, and are usually making a trip to Madison once or twice a day. This has resulted in our kids being in the car for a lot more time than I believe is healthy for young kids.
3. Neighbors. We have none. We want some.
4. Space. Our kids have outgrown their living space. The girls share a room upstairs and a very small closet. It’s almost impossible to get their clothes in there. They need their own space, and we need more furniture, which I don’t want to buy before we move.  So it’s getting a bit cluttered in their space, so they drag their stuff into our space. We all share the downstairs bathroom, which is small, so you can imagine how that goes every morning and bedtime!
5. Garage. We have a carport. It’s really cute, and we keep it very clean. But with all the bikes and riding toys we have, we need a spot for them to stay dry and clean.
6. Friends. I want to have people over all the time. I want to be centrally located where folks can stop by. I want to cook Sunday dinner for the people I love.
7. Witness. I want my Sunday School girls to come over whenever they want to. I want to be closer to them so I can be involved in their lives. I want my kids friends to come to our house and know that it is a safe, happy place where nobody will be made fun of or hurt.

I could go on and on, but this is sounding like a pity party.

I know that, compared to so many that are struggling with terrible issues right now, this doesn’t seem like a big deal. I know I have so much to be thankful for, and I am! I have a terrific husband and a strong, healthy marriage. I am healthy and God is using me and working in my life. I have three bright, happy, creative children that are exactly what I hoped for.

I shouldn’t want more than that.

But I do. I am tired of being tired from the long drive. I’m tired of the screaming in the car. I’m tired of having to leave really early and get home late. I’m tired of being late to doctor appointments because the highway traffic is so slow. I’m tired of feeling isolated and alone out here. I’m so tired of feeling inadequate and stupid because I am still adjusting to homeschool.

I’ve struggled with my faith on this issue. I have been through a lot in my life, but I have never questioned whether God could do something. And I still don’t question the fact. I know who he is, and that he is in control. I just wonder why it seems like he has forgotten about us. But at the same time, I know he hasn’t. I have so much information about God. I’ve studied, I’ve learned, I know the truth. But right now, I don’t feel.

And that’s okay, because you can’t trust feelings anyway. Feelings come and go and change like the wind. Regardless of how I feel, I will worship him because he’s God. He saved me. Because of him, I have joy and peace and eternal life. I’m not under condemnation or dealing with guilt and shame.

I’m free.

Which means I am free from worry that he’s got our situation covered. I need to get to the place where I can reconcile my feelings about that. I’m not there yet. But I know God can get me there.

Even if it takes ten months.

The advance tickets went on sale today. I figured since I bought the club membership, I had to go on and buy the tickets.

So I pay for the tickets and THEY DON’T TELL YOU WHERE THEY ARE!

I have to wait until February to find out how good my seats are. I don’t really mind, because buying the VIP seats early is a lot less stressful than playing the Ticketmaster game when they go on sale, but the suspense will be awful.

All this so I can hear him sing “Then”. And possibly catch a guitar pick.

Michael is flying home right now.

He lost his Blackberry last weekend and we have been disconnected without it, obviously. I was really worried about this trip. I was afraid we wouldn’t be able to communicate at all.

But no! He was able to use his computer on the plane!

You see, I travel so little that I had no idea you could get internet while in flight. It makes sense, though. You’re closer to the satellites than we are down here…right?

So we have emailed back and forth while he flies the friendly skies and have discussed all manner of important topics, the most crucial of which is the fact that Brad Paisley is coming to the coast pretty soon.

My birthday is in January. This would be 2 years in a row of seeing him for my birthday. I cannot, in good conscience, pass this opportunity by. We MUST keep the tradition!!!

So, I’m perusing the Brad Paisley site, looking for information, and realized that if I join the fan club, there might be a possibility for advance tickets.

I have always said I would NEVER join a fan club. I will NOT be a groupie. I will NEVER pay money to be a part of group that writes on message boards how much they love this song or that song.

I joined the fan club.

It wasn’t much money at all, so that’s not the issue. I just feel like I sold out and became one of those women who wear Rebel flag tshirts and tight jeans and go line dancing. (Do people still line dance? I have no idea. Which is why I’m too old to be joining a fan club.)

I just wanted the chance at advance tickets. That’s all, I promise. I will not be posting pictures of me wearing a lampshade on my head. (Thankfully, nobody does that at his current shows, that was so 2 years ago.)

Last year, we got awesome seats 2 weeks before the concert in New Orleans. I have no idea how that happened, I just walked by my computer one afternoon, checked Ticketmaster, and there they were on the 16th row. I grabbed my card and purchased them, and made plans for one of the most fun 4 hours I’ve ever had in my whole entire life.

So can I do it again, now that I’m a member of the club? There was a disclaimer that said sometimes concerts don’t do the advance tickets. I may have joined for nothing, because I’m not going to drive more than 3 hours, or get on a plane to go see anybody. I have 3 kids that need me and I don’t want them going to church saying, “my mama flew to Phoenix to go see Brad Paisley because she’s in the fan club!”

I would die of embarrassment.

So I choose to tell the internet. Because that’s so much smarter.

I’m telling you, that in-flight email discussion with my generous, loving husband who encouraged me to join apparently sucked the common sense out of my brain.

But if I’m on the front row, come February, I’m the smartest girl in the world.

Curl up on your bed and write.

That will be my new mantra. If I actually thought a mantra was something I needed. I don’t need a mantra, because then I’m stuck with using one particular saying and just in case you haven’t noticed, I change my mind a lot.

I am starting a new week, and it is not looking promising at this point, but you can bet your bottom dollar it will be better than last week.

Last week may go down as the medal winner for stinkiest, most horrendous weeks ever.

But I believe all statements like that are relative. I mean, I’m sure there was a finals week while in college when I thought it was the worst week ever, and it probably was during that time of my life. Then there were weeks of breakups in high school or college that were the worst week ever at that time. Then there was friend drama, which always made it the worst week ever. Then there was the first trimester, which was 12 worst weeks ever, 3 different times!

So it’s all relative. I realize that.

So…last week was a whopper. But now it’s Sunday, and we get to start over.

I experienced some heartbreak this weekend. I heard a new song on the radio, by Britney Spears. I did not choose the station, I was in an eating establishment. The song came on, and I had read a little bit about it here and there, but had never heard it. I went home and googled the lyrics and my heart broke at the utter and total moral decay in the song’s words.

I don’t like Britney, I never have. But I know that God loves her and that Jesus wants her to know him. That reason alone keeps me from being really, really ugly about her recording a song with such a vile message.

The song is celebrating a perversion of what God has intended for a husband and wife’s physical relationship. In the song, the lyrics claim that it is sin, because it says “Livin’ in sin is the new thing”. So we know the songwriter recognizes that the act being sung about is wrong.

I was sitting with my two sweet daughters in an ice cream shop yesterday and the song came on the radio. I wanted so badly to ask the manger to turn the radio off or down until the song changed. I am ashamed now that I didn’t do it. I know my girls don’t understand, but I don’t want them to even dance to the beat. The beautiful, precious, sweet teenage girls I teach every Sunday knew the song. It breaks my heart that they have become so desensitized to lyrics that praise a lifestyle completely away from God. They don’t agree with the song, they just don’t think anything at all. I wish people could get offended to the point that we would leave stores or restaurants when songs like that are playing. But we don’t. We keep eating or shopping and ignore the tiny little chisels that chip away at our need for purity and make us more and more tolerant of impurity.

I’m not saying we should be self-righteous jerks, heavens no. I just wonder if the days of standing up for what is right are over.

Britney Spears is counting on the latter. She gets the paycheck, no matter the cost to us.

Today was a bad day.

I mean, a cry over a big piece of cake and a glass of milk kind of bad day. (Although that sounds like a good day…whatever.)

Anyway, in the midst of the prayer and concern that is a constant for my grandmother, and now my sweet nephew Jack, Paisley got sick. I knew it was the flu, so I took her in to see the pediatrician. Of course, because we homeschool, I had to take all three kids because I have no drop-off options during the day.

The threats to hang them by their toes and pull their eyelashes out if they talked while the doctor was talking worked pretty well.

As we were sitting in the waiting room, my phone rang. Now, I don’t just have a regular ringtone. My tone is Paisley, singing “Jesus Loves Me” at the TOP of her two year old lungs. I think it’s hilarious. People around me apparently do not.

It was my realtor, and any call from her is welcome, day or night. She informed me that someone was coming to see my house in two and a half hours.  I was in Madison, 20 minutes away, waiting to see the doctor. My husband was out of town. Our house was not a pigsty, but it was what I like to call “Dad’s gone, and Mom’s hanging in there” state.

The visit went quickly, Paiz has the swine flu. We’re stocked with Motrin, all is going to be well.

I raced home and pulled into the driveway. We got out of the van and I told the kids, “Do NOT ask me for anything. Your Nonna (my sweet mama) is coming to get you so I can get this house clean in a hurry. Sit in front of the TV and do NOT move until she gets here!”

Aidan looked at me with that skinny face, his big dark eyes amazed. “Mama?” he said. “You’ve NEVER said that to us before!”

“What?” I asked.

“You’ve never told us to go sit in front of the TV. That’s so cool!” He was most impressed.

In the midst of the craziness of today, I think I reached hero status with my little boy. And on a day like this, I’ll take it.

I’m watching the baseball playoffs tonight. There is nothing else on, and I figure that if I watch it, I can talk to Michael about it tomorrow. Even though Michael is asleep in the chair. So actually, I’ve got the advantage.

While watching this game, I’ve noticed a disturbing trend in the players choice of pants style. The pitcher for the Yankees was wearing these odd pants with flappy sides. They looked like grey Hammer pants, if there ever could be such a thing. It’s frightful, honestly.

Another thing…and I know this is superficial and lame on my part…the players all seem really large and unattractive to me. Maybe I’m crazy, but when I was in high school and college, baseball players were the best looking of all the athletes. I mean, I married one, didn’t I?

Kidding.

But these pro guys look like they just climbed out of the La-Z-Boy and headed out to the field. Now, I’m very much aware that they are highly skilled athletes with years and years of training. I know that I’m completely talking nonsense and have no idea what is really going on. But if you can’t talk nonsense on the internet, then where else can you?

Not that anybody is reading this, anyway.

But if we’re going to talk about outward appearance and fashion, I must show you the boots I bought the girls today.

They are pretty spectacular, I must say. And they are from WALMART. And…they are TEN bucks. Paisley got the red pair, and Molly got hot pink, which is no surprise.

While we’re on the subject (which is my favorite subject anyway), this is my new favorite sweater:

This is not me in the picture, just to clarify. (I crack myself up.)

Seriously, this sweater is cotton and cashmere, and is loose, but still cute and cozy and right now it’s on sale at the Gap.

I know, I just made your day.

Then there is this sweater:

I bought the scoop neck version of this at Eddie Bauer in Memphis a few weekends ago. It’s also cozy and comfy, while maintaining some level of cuteness. And it really looks good with a scarf.

I’m sharing all of this with you because I will be wearing one of these two sweaters almost every time I step out in public this winter. I just want you to be aware that I got them on sale and they are even more comfortable than Michael’s 13 year old Bulldogs sweatshirt.

I really need to revamp my shoe wardrobe. It’s hard to let go of the flip flops. I just about can wear my brown Justin boots with everything, and what they don’t go with, my bronze ballet flats will do fine. But eventually, I will need a change. It’s just who I am.

I should probably wake up my husband and usher him off to bed. I’m sure sleeping in a chair with the lights on is not comfortable.

But my sweaters are, and that’s what counts.

Oops, let me change that to “I HAVE VISION.”

Because I have not had a vision, and as of yesterday, I can see across the room unassisted.

Lasik is a beautiful, beautiful thing, my friends.

You want to hear about it? I’m gonna tell you.

My doctor, Dr. Smith, is the greatest guy. He’s related to me, so that gives him some points to start with, but he’s pretty cool on his own. When I was a kid, I LOVED for him to come babysit us. He’s really awesome.

So I got up yesterday and was allowed to eat! What surgery allows you to eat beforehand? Anyway, we got to the surgical center and I was plenty nervous. They called me back and took blood pressure and temperature and got my information.

Then the nurse drew two really attractive purple dots above each eye. Stunning.

And because I wasn’t QUITE cute enough, she painted yellow solution all around my eyes. You have never seen anything so gorgeous. I have pictures, yes I do, but I also have pride.

Then I took the valium they handed me. Oh, wonderful, precious valium. It was nice to have you in my life.

Then my doc came and got me, and we went into the room with the big laser machine. I laid down in the chair, and they made sure I was completely comfortable. I took my shoes off, they gave me a stuffed frog to squeeze and we got down to business. I never dreamed I would find so much comfort from a stuffed frog.

The engineer who works the Lasik machine was super nice. He made sure I was relaxed, and made me practice talking without moving my head. THIS WAS A FEAT OF GREAT SKILL AND MAGNITUDE, MY FRIENDS.

They taped my eyelashes down (a little freaky), then propped open my eyelids (very freaky). They told me it would go dark, and it did. Then I could see the orange blinking light. I focused on the light and took deep breaths. I tried to recall any scripture I had in my mental files, but all I could think of was “What time I am afraid, I will trust in Thee. Psalm 56:3″. Thank you, Bible Drill.

There was a vibration, that was the only thing I could feel. Then the laser did its job. Then they irrigated it, and I could feel the wet. After that, it was just light. I focused on the light, and relaxed. I could feel nothing, but was very aware when they put my iris back in place (I KNOW!) and then smoothed my cornea over. It was cool to see the doc using this little brush thing to smooth out my eyeball. Then they moved over and did the other eye.

When it was over (10 minutes total), I sat up and could read the digital clock on the wall.

I received my eyedrops and instructions (no eye makeup for 10 days! WHAT?!) and we headed home. Total time was maybe an hour and a half. By the time we left, I felt really woozy, the valium was doing its thing. Michael and I were both hungry, so we headed to Sweet Peppers, at noon, with everyone else in the world. I had no makeup on, these really cool Stevie Wonder looking glasses, and could barely walk straight. We walked in, and Michael saw one of our friends who had a good laugh at my expense. Lunch was good, but I almost fell asleep in my crawfish bisque.

I put my sleeping goggles (I’m so cool) on when we got to my parents’ house and was asleep before I laid down. Exactly 2 hours later, I woke up, startled. I realized where I was and what I had done. I threw off the goggles and looked around. I could see pictures on the wall. I could read book titles on the shelf. The adrenaline rush I had at this moment was huge.

I was still a bit loopy for the day, but as the day went on, it got better and better. This morning was incredible. I could see the small print on billboards on the interstate. I went by my doc’s office and he did a quick check: 20/20 and moving toward 20/15.

It was an amazing experience. I’m so thankful to have had the chance to do it.

I’m going to put my goggles on and go to bed. You know how Snoopy looks when he becomes The Red Baron? Yep. That’s me.

I realized this week that I’ve been excessively verbose in my blogging these days. That’s not intentional. I write funny, funny stuff in my head, complete with witty pictures and videos, but they never come to fruition.

I spend so much time talking each day that I use up my words by nighttime. I never thought I’d see the day that would happen.

So this week…I don’t know that I can do it justice…

We now are pet owners. This goes against every fiber of my being. We don’t want a pet. I don’t want an animal to care for every day. But here we are. Meet Charlie:

Michael was away this week, and on Tuesday, the kids and I went to Bible Study. I came home, and there was this little kitten in my carport. I don’t like cats as a general rule, but this little girl got to me. She was clearly hungry, and I assume someone just put her out by the field close to my house. I don’t know what to do with animals, but I knew not to feed it because I didn’t want to keep it.

But I fed it anyway. She was so tiny and boney, it broke my heart. I don’t know what it is about creatures that are helpless, but I just could not let it go hungry. We talked a long time about whether it was a boy or girl, and Aidan said, “I know how to find out! We’ll take it upstairs, and if it goes in Molly’s room, it’s a girl! If it goes in my room, it’s a boy!”

She’s not allowed in the house, so we are playing with her outside. She found a cozy spot in the bushes where she likes to sleep. Michael came home and has toted her around like a baby. We have to take her to get shots and fixed and all that, but it looks like she’s going to be our mousetrap this winter.

Molly started playing soccer this season, and Saturday was her first game. She did really well. She turned the ball around probably five times. She hustled and ran and had a lot of fun!

Her team could not decide on a name, so every week, Michael lets a different girl pick the name. This week, they were the Butterflies. I’m sure the parents will be highly confused by the time the season ends.

Notice in the picture I’m wearing my glasses. I’ve had to wear them every day for several weeks now. My eyes started acting weird and my contacts were very uncomfortable. After a couple of visits to my eye doctor (who just so happens to be family) we have decided to take the Lasik plunge. I am so excited. I’m scheduled for October 16.

Also, just in case you’ve hung in there through my last long and winding posts, we have no news on the house yet. The lady who looked at it is still a possibility, but she hasn’t made a move yet. It’s been nine months. I’m exhausted with the whole situation.

Homeschooling is going fine. I don’t have much to say about it. It’s school. We’re at home. There you go.

My kids have taken a great interest in the Bible. I’ve been reading the story of Joseph to them, straight from the NIV. I change a word or two here or there so they’ll understand. I stop and commentate it for them so they can keep the facts straight, but it’s been a great experience to see them getting into the Word. Aidan was appalled that Joseph was put in prison for no reason. He must have inherited my sense of justice. Molly thinks it is gross that Potiphar’s wife wanted Joseph to be her boyfriend. But they both thought the hanging of the baker was pretty cool.

Who needs cable?

Now that I’ve sufficiently caught you up on our craziness…here is what happens when Aidan and Paisley confiscate my camera at a soccer game:

He was so proud of his “diagonal pictures”. I could show you tons, but you would feel a little discombobulated when you were finished.

Just like I do, after writing this post. Have a great week, everyone.

I learned something about myself this weekend.

I think I already knew it though, so it was more of a re-affirmation. If that’s even a real thing.

Anyway, where was I?

I learned that I love big masses of people gathered together for a single purpose.

That’s it in a nutshell. I could stop now, but then it wouldn’t be worth the time you’re wasting at work.

Michael and I got tickets to the MSU vs. LSU game in Starkville on Saturday. We passed off the kids to the people they like even better than us, and hit the road. It was wet and muddy. There were people everywhere, getting drenched. We parked over a mile from the stadium and walked through mud to get there.

I’ve not been that happy in a long time.

I told Michael that walking through a storm in a crowd with mud everywhere would be a nightmare with kids, but is the perfect day when it is just us. I can’t explain that.

The game was fantastic. I mean, it didn’t end well, but good grief, the excitement alone made it worth every minute. The crowd’s energy was awesome. The school spirit and single-mindedness of the event was overwhelming.

I LOVE THAT.

I think that’s why I love concerts. In New Orleans last January, I was one of thousands of people who love Brad Paisley. We were all there in that room, singing his songs and screaming our lungs out.

Again, it’s that singular focus thing.

I’m going to see Beth Moore at a Living Proof event in less than two weeks. I am excited about her teaching, but I am ECSTATIC about the worship time. I get to go with my mom. We haven’t had many experiences where we just get to worship together without one of us being tied up with choir or kids or something. To be in a room with that many women would normally make me a nervous wreck. I don’t like girly events. But to join in worship with women who are focused on what God is going to do that weekend is awesome.

That is one of the reasons I love church. People go for lots of reasons, but when you get in the sanctuary, it’s obvious that our staff has worked hard to make sure that we put our focus where it needs to be. And then we all are joined by a bond that only comes from Christ.

Along the same lines, but totally superficial…this is why I love the Canton Flea Market. Thousands of people joining together to shop? Yes, please.

So in my self-discovery this weekend I realized that I like being part of the crowd. Not necessarily the in-crowd, but a crowd simply made up of lots of people doing the same thing.

And throw in some candle lighting and someone playing Kum Ba Yah, and I’m in heaven.

To ask forgiveness, that is? Or have recent events proved that permission may be the better way to go?

I have read about more mea culpas in the past week than I care to know about. Whether it’s in politics or entertainment, it seems as if the trend is to mess up, then clear the air with a semi-heartfelt apology.

That doesn’t work for me. As anyone who has any interaction with people would know, once you say the words, they’re out there. An apology doesn’t erase the damage done. In a marriage, it’s so easy to say hurtful things to the person you love the most. In friendships, we all know “mean girls” (or guys) who just say rude, catty things that hurt. We know people that love to “one-up” us.

And while an apology helps, it doesn’t take away the fact that they said it. It’s always there to remind you that someone had that thought at one time, regardless of how guilty they feel about it now.

I’m aware that it is impossible to go through life without saying something hurtful at some point. I know I will! I just think that using an apology as an excuse to shoot your mouth off about whatever comes into your mind is a terrible way to relate to people.

We live in a world of Too Much Information. Anyone can comment on any news article, video, picture, tweet or status update if they feel so inclined. We put ourselves out there, and should be ready for the consequences, regardless of what they are. God made our brains to be able to form opinions and have thoughts and feelings about things that matter to us, but the world has given us the opportunity to share those thoughts with the rest of humanity. There is no more mystery. We no longer have to wonder what being a movie star would be like. We see their every move. We can live vicariously through any celebrity we want, and then talk about them as if they were our crazy neighbor.

I think Kanye West is a primo example of someone who would MUCH rather ask forgiveness than permission. Permission is not in his vocabulary. He never has to ask if he can do anything. He only answers to himself, and apparently, his answer to himself is always, “Yes”. He can apologize all he wants, and he will, because the apology keeps him where he wants to be…in the news.

I have felt pretty sorry for people who don’t know who he is, or care about any of this. For example, my sweet grandparents watch the news every night. I’m sure they have had to see the replay of his obnoxious interruption of Taylor Swift’s speech over and over. Most likely, and I could be wrong because they’re cool, they don’t even know who these people are! So why is it headline news? Because that’s how we roll, giving airplay to those who misuse their celebrity and steal from others moments that clearly don’t belong to them.

I am irritated at myself for even writing about this, but this thought has been in my head, and so I wrote all of that to get here: I have imagined that God must be so sad at the state of affairs on this earth he created. I imagine we have hurt his heart badly. I can only assume that he would be disappointed that the people he made in his image and loves so desperately can act so vainly and selfishly. It hurts my heart to think about how it must hurt his.

Then those of us that know him run to him every time we mess up, knowing that he will forgive us, rather than consulting his word BEFORE we make the mistake. I’m terribly guilty of this very thing. We misuse the grace he so freely gives.

So just as I start to think that our selfishness and sin must be the worst it has ever been, I remember the story of Noah. Before God told him to build the ark, this happened (Genesis 6):

⁵ The LORD saw how great man’s wickedness on the earth had become, and that every inclination of the thoughts of his heart was only evil all the time. ⁶ The LORD was grieved that he had made man on the earth, and his heart was filled with pain. ⁷ So the LORD said, “I will wipe mankind, whom I have created, from the face of the earth—men and animals, and creatures that move along the ground, and birds of the air—for I am grieved that I have made them.”⁸ But Noah found favor in the eyes of the LORD.

Apparently, things were really, really bad with mankind. Quite possibly, things were more evil than we could imagine even with our desensitized brains.

Then, after the flood, God made a promise to never wipe out mankind again. So as sinful as our world is now, God is keeping his promise to not destroy humanity. That tells me that he knew when he flooded the earth that things would be this way. And that tells me he is in complete control of our society, even though it seems to be spinning out of control. He flooded the earth when it was as bad as it could get. He has not had the need to break his promise to us since then. He was aware then, and is aware now of where we are and where we are going as a species.

He knows that we need him. He knew then that he would send Jesus to redeem us. He knows the condition of every single heart that beats on this earth.

My heart can be so ugly. It can be so hard and stubborn and unyielding. It can be ungrateful and petty and selfish. I can act just like I don’t know who in the world he is, and I can forget so easily what he has done for me. And yet he hasn’t flooded the earth because of sinners like me. He instead floods his love and his mercy on me and fills me with all of the goodness of himself. He lets me run to him and call him Daddy. Then I get to start over, with a new and tender heart. I get to learn how much better life is when I get permission from his word, rather then depend on his grace to cover my myriad of mistakes. I’m free, but I need his authority over me. I need his guidance. In those boundaries, I’m free to be who he made me to be.

And that is easier, and more effective, than a press-conference apology any day.