tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4931879695003189572024-03-13T06:35:41.085-05:00For Whom The Bell DingsIt was the best of times, it was the worst of times...Jean Beldinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03688059724299254527noreply@blogger.comBlogger19125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-493187969500318957.post-63852727628042247112015-12-25T00:46:00.000-06:002015-12-25T00:47:19.989-06:00The One Where They Changed the Locks<div class="_209g _2vxa" data-block="true" data-offset-key="4upo5-0-0">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span data-offset-key="4upo5-0-0"><span data-text="true">My family celebrated Christmas today, starting with presents this morning, then turkey and mashed potatoes and gravy and stuffing and canned cranberry jelly and rolls and Frog Eye Salad (all my favorites), then a long afternoon of hanging out together, telling stories, and playing games. Joel and I left a few minutes before everyone else, because we needed to go home and change clothes before the Christmas Eve service at church. Liv told me that it's not a church day, and I told her that the Christmas Eve service is the best church day of the whole year. </span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span data-offset-key="5g2hr-0-0"><span data-text="true">I have always loved the Christmas Eve service at church. One of the many stories that were told about the dinner table today was about how much baby Kate loved Dad. After her mom and dad and brothers, Grandpa was her next favorite person. In contrast, no matter what Mom did, Kate cried whenever she looked at Grandma, and Mom could only hold her if Kate didn't see that it Grandma. It must have been 2009 when Kate got really excited about seeing Grandpa up on the stage at the Christmas Eve service, enough to keep calling out to him, so much that he came down off the stage and got her and brought her up on stage with him for the final song. </span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span data-offset-key="3l3k8-0-0"><span data-text="true">Before that, there was a Christmas Eve was James was still a very small baby, and Dad held him for the entire message at the Christmas Eve service, giving us all a great visual, as we imagined Jesus coming as a baby. I remember Patrick and Tanya giving themselves a little pep talk about how the baby would be fine with Dad, and that Dad had plenty of stability to hold the baby through the whole service. It was 2006, and we were all thankful that Dad's stroke hadn't taken him away from us. </span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span data-offset-key="9sl7-0-0"><span data-text="true">There was that time that the worship team, lead by Steve Melton, played "Silent Night", with a surprise twist. It started out traditional, then turned into an upbeat rock song, representing how that night in Bethlehem was anything but silent! It was loud and chaotic with all the hotels filled up with people who were in town for the census. </span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span data-offset-key="cstq4-0-0"><span data-text="true">Another Christmas Eve, Dad taught about the symbolism behind Christmas tree decorations, like what each color represents about Jesus. My family decorated the tree with lights, gold garland, and ornaments of many colors.</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span data-offset-key="9v04r-0-0"><span data-text="true">We had a candlelit Christmas Eve service in 1995. Real candles. Real flames. Really nervous Dad. No one burned down the church, but Patrick and Clayton took the papers intended to keep candle wax from dripping on your hands, and put them on their noses instead. I have proof. </span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span data-offset-key="r94f-0-0"><span data-text="true"><br /><br />Our church is casual. My dad wears a tie about half the time, but it's rare to see anyone else wearing a tie. Some parents have given their boys the dress rule that they're not allowed to wear a shirt with writing on it to church, that it has to have a collar or stripes. Recently one of the classes received trophies on the stage, and every boy was wearing a shirt with stripes. Jeans and t-shirts and flip flops are perfectly acceptable. Girls under the age of eight are the only group excluded from being questioned when dressed fancy at church. Otherwise the rest of us will ask you where you're going after church. On more than one occasion, my parents have stopped home on a Sunday afternoon, to change INTO their nice clothes for a wedding or funeral. So when you look around the church on Christmas Eve, and see more dresses and ties and red and sparkly than usual, it's special.</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span data-offset-key="77lc4-0-0"><span data-text="true">I always loved hanging out with my friends at the Christmas Eve service. We would all be dressed up and excited for the next day. Years may pass, things may change, but appreciating friends remains the same. I miss catching up with James Melton when we were both on break from college. I love having interesting conversations with Autumn, like tonight's speculation that time is passing so quickly that we might be in a parallel universe. I love when I get to see Clayton and Brad and Tori at the Christmas Eve service. I would say that Clay doesn't use paper candle holders for nose gear anymore, but in all fairness, we have never had another candlelit service, so none of us can really know what he'd do now. </span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span data-offset-key="c54na-0-0"><span data-text="true">But long before the Billy Graham Chaplains showed up to the Christmas Eve service unexpectedly... long before Tim proposed to Joanna outside the church late one Christmas Eve night... long before we looked forward to fudge from the Rinaldis... long before my parents became grandparents... there was the night that the YMCA changed the locks.</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span data-offset-key="144oj-0-0"><span data-text="true">Long ago, in a Calvary Chapel far far away... our church met in a YMCA. The church rented the building on Sunday mornings, from 8:00am til noon. We had to be out of the building by noon, and often times the entire small church would go out to lunch at Taco Bell when the clock stuck twelve. Baptisms in the huge pool were a highlight, but nobody liked the tedious chore of carrying chairs and speakers up to the second floor auditorium. The YMCA had been rented for Christmas Eve service. I remember going to church with Dad, and I remember being at the house with Mom. So we must have all gone to church together when the discovery was made. Sometime between Sunday morning and Christmas Eve, the YMCA had changed the locks. Dad's key didn't work and everyone from church was on their way to the Christmas Eve service. Dad made the quick decision that we were going to move the Christmas Eve service to our house, and Mom took us back home for a quick whirlwind of straightening up, while Dad remained in the cold, telling everyone to come to our house instead. You will remember that this was before cell phones. </span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span data-offset-key="ev8ma-0-0"><span data-text="true">More and more and more people came. The church that seemed small in other settings now filled my parents' house to standing room only. What seemed at first like a disaster turned into the most memorable Christmas Eve service of all time. We all sang carols, Lenora played the violin, and we remembered another busy crowded night, when God sent His only Son as a baby, to be born among barn animals and spend His first night asleep on the hay in a feeding trough. </span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span data-offset-key="8os14-0-0"><span data-text="true">Jesus' birth did not happen at a convenient time for Mary and Joseph, but a necessary time to fulfill prophecy. As we celebrate this Christmas, may we not remember Jesus' birth only at our convenience, but may we see how necessary He is to our lives every day. For it is not His birth that makes "God and man reconciled", but His death on the cross to pay for our sins and the fact that He rose from the dead and now lives forevermore. We have all sinned and fall short of the glory of God. Our sin has earned us death and Hell, but God offers us the free gift of salvation and Heaven through Jesus alone. If you confess with your mouth that Jesus is Lord, and believe in your heart that God raised Him from the dead, you will be saved. If you have never opened that free gift from the Lord, please know that today is Christmas, and that gift is waiting for you. </span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span data-offset-key="3091k-0-0"><span data-text="true">Take the abundant life, for eternity and for every day living. </span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span data-offset-key="eqlq1-0-0"><span data-text="true">Don't leave it unopened at the Tree. </span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span data-offset-key="bvs67-0-0"><span data-text="true">MERRY CHRISTMAS!! Thank you for sharing in my week of Christmas memories, thank you for encouraging me to write, and thank you for adding so many of your memories. May the Lord bless you this Christmas!<br /></span></span></span></span></div>
Jean Beldinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03688059724299254527noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-493187969500318957.post-75997523667867912172015-12-23T23:07:00.004-06:002015-12-25T00:47:51.477-06:00The One with Alf<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">The Christmas rules were simple: No tree
until after December 10th. Hang the tinsel perfectly as if your life
depended on it. Gather up the wrapping paper trash as gifts are opened.
Wait until after 9am to call Aunt Sandy and Grandma to find out when
they were coming over.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> They never came over quick enough. We'd
pick up the phone and dial the number that I still have memorized, and
ask them how soon they were going to get there. Patrick was probably in
charge of watching out the window. Eventually they'd come over, bearing
gifts and cream pies. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> The first Christmas that I remember was
maybe the first one in the house where my parents still live. I remember
the black trash bags that kept coming up the front steps, like it was a
moving day. I remember my mom telling my grandma and grandpa, "This is
way too much." I thought it was a fine amount, though the only presents I
remember from that year are slippers and a stuffed sheep wearing roller
skates. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> Sometimes our Christmas gifts included items that went
along with whatever movie was opening that season, like the year we got
pajamas and stuffed animals from "All Dogs Go to Heaven". We got to see
ALL the movies that came out at the holidays, because after we'd opened
presents, and after we'd eaten mid-day dinner, Aunt Sandy would take
Patrick and me (and Eileen when she was old enough) to the movies while
my parents took naps. I don't remember how old we were when we started
going to the movies, but we went every Thanksgiving and every Christmas,
and other times through the year too. Anytime we went to the movies
with Aunt Sandy, she would also buy us sodas and candy. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> Any trip
with Aunt Sandy was an all-expenses-paid, whatever-you-want kind of
deal. Let me illustrate what I'm talking about, because it wasn't
limited to movie concessions. One time she took us to Tiemeyer Pool in
the summer. When Aunt Sandy asked us how long Mom let us stay, which was
an hour, we estimated high when answering, so as to leave room for
negotiation: "Three hours." We stayed FOUR hours with Aunt Sandy... and
she bought us plenty of snacks from the snack bar, obviously. My cousin
Robin is gonna read this and not recognize her mom from these stories,
but this will help her understand why she may not get all the things she
wants. It's because twenty years ago, Aunt Sandy already spent all her
money on us! </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> One time, when David was little, he wanted
something and Patrick and Tanya told him it was too expensive. Minutes
later, my dad bought it for him, and David told his parents that Grandpa
has "expensive money" (David coined many lasting Fitzgerald phrases).
But back in the 80's and 90's, when there were things my parents
couldn't afford, it was Grandma and Aunt Sandy who had the expensive
money. It didn't matter if it was the purple Coleman sleeping bag or the
papasan chair that I'd always dreamed of having or the expensive
Naturalizer boots, as long as they knew that we would appreciate
something, they bought it for us. I remember Aunt Sandy taking me to
Northwest Plaza to try on the boots, saying she would buy them for me as
long as I really liked them and was going to wear them. I wore them
until they had no tread left. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> Shopping hasn't been the same
since going with Aunt Sandy, Grandma, and Aunt Edie. I remember many
grocery store trips, K-mart trips, and Wal-mart trips. Wal-mart has the
most stories. Shopping was an event for Grandma. Step one: Put her cane
in the cart. Step two: Walk slowly through the store and put things into
her cart. Step three: Sit with Aunt Edie in the snack bar and evaluate
everything in the cart. Step four: Put back half the stuff, not where it
goes, not given to the cashier, just shove it anywhere. Grandma always
took extra bags from Shop N Save when checking out, as in stacks of
brand new plastic bags, and saved them in her closet. Keep in mind that I
have no memories of Grandma using a single one of these bags.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
The grocery bag closet was in a room that adjoined the living room, also
known as the bedroom that was built for my dad when baby Sandy was
born. One time, when Grandma was babysitting us, one of the cats pushed
the door open from that room, which in turn pushed the front door
closed. Grandma got up to re-open the front door, saying something
Grandma-ish like, "Durn cat." We were very creative at Grandma's house,
so for the next hour or so, Patrick occupied himself by sneaking through
the kitchen into that bedroom, and pushing the door open, so that
Grandma kept getting up and kept blaming the cat. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> Grandma's
slang words were also a highlight of our card games. Mom and Dad and I
played Shanghai (a version of rummy) with Grandma and Aunt Sandy on a
regular basis after family dinners and on holidays. Grandma would say
things like "durn" and "horse patootie" when she wasn't having luck with
the cards.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> Another Grandma story happened when she was
babysitting at our house. When Eileen was born, both Grandma and Aunt
Sandy would come over to babysit us, but at the time, it was just me and
Patrick home, and Grandma was watching evening television. We were
playing in the basement, and decided to have some fun. [I am already
laughing out loud as I write this.] Patrick and I found black clothes
for him to wear, including a black stocking cap. Then we used dark green
eye shadow to darken his face. Then we went upstairs as slowly and
quietly as we could. Patrick inched his way across the kitchen floor
until he came out the doorway into the living room, right behind the
recliner where Grandma was sitting. On my cue, he darted out from behind
the chair, right in front of Grandma, right in front of the TV, running
as fast as he could to the other side of the room. In retrospect, it's
clearly a terrible idea to scare an old person, but we were too young to
consider things like that. Grandma definitely didn't see it coming, and
yelled a whole lot of not-made-up bad words, and threw in some "durn
kids". </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> There are two stories that make me laugh out loud every
single time. You just read one of them. Here's the other: When Mom got
home from grocery shopping, we were in charge of carrying in all the
groceries, and putting away whatever things we could. One time, before
any of the cans got put away, Patrick and I took the paper labels off
all the tuna cans, and wrote "CAT FOOD" on them with a marker. Important
fact: We had a cat. Mom caught us right after we did it, so she knew
that the cans without labels were tuna and only tuna. All the cat food
cans still had cat food labels. Soon afterwards, she was making tuna
casserole for dinner, and my dad saw her opening cans labeled "CAT
FOOD". After he was done freaking out and asking, "What are you
doing?!", we were instructed to never again remove labels. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
Grandma and Aunt Sandy both had cats, wore cat sweatshirts, had cat
earrings and cat quilts, and liked all things with cats. The first
Christmas shopping I did was when Patrick and I bought Christmas
presents with our own money from the nearby 88 Cents Store. Grandma and
Aunt Sandy got cat items, whereas Aunt Edie was a bird person. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
Eventually, Uncle Steve came into the picture, and we had to share Aunt
Sandy. When they went on their honeymoon, Aunt Sandy let me borrow her
convertible for the week, as a surprise. After the wedding reception,
she tossed me the keys and said I could drive it all week. BEST. WEEK.
EVER. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> Time would fail me to tell you all of the adventures we
had with Aunt Sandy back in the day or during the years when we'd go
over to her house for Christmas Eve pie, but I will tell you that many
presents from her are still in existence and used on a regular basis,
including the papasan chair. But the most treasured of all presents, the
most used, the sometimes re-gifted, the well-traveled, the beloved of
all time... is Alf. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> The enjoyment of Alf only increases as the
years go on. There were a few years where Patrick and I went back and
forth wrapping up Alf and giving him to each other as a Christmas
present. I think Patrick started it. The recipient of the gift would
think, "Ooh, whatever could be in this large present?...[unwraps]... Ha
ha ha! It's Alf! You got me again!" I considered sending Alf to Patrick
when he was at Bible College, but rather than send a stuffed doll to a
house full of sweaty boys, I took photos of Alf doing things around the
house, a whole roll of film, and sent Patrick the photos. Soon after, we
all went out there for Patrick's graduation and wedding. It was then
that I discovered that Build-A-Bear clothes fit Alf. So Alf came to
California wearing a Hawaiian shirt, then he came to the graduation
wearing a cap and gown, and he came to the wedding wearing a tuxedo. He
was included in one of the photos with all the groomsmen. Alf also has a
Batman costume. There are plenty of good stories about Alf... and when I
mention Alf, I do not think of the television show, or the fact that
these dolls were mass produced, I think of the one individual doll that
belongs to our family, the one true Alf. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> Everything that Alf
embodies, memories and family and love and presents and laughter... are
also true of the one who bought him in the first place. Aunt Sandy gave
us great presents, and took us on adventures, and spent lots of time
with us. She is my aunt role model. I want my nieces and nephews to have
adventures and memories and thoughtful gifts and know that I care about
their lives and their concerns and their interests the same way that
Aunt Sandy did for us. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> Several years ago, I was reading a book
about living childless, which was basically about counting your
blessings instead of feeling sorry for yourself. One part has especially
stuck with me. It said that childless people make great aunts and
uncles, that every child deserves a childless aunt or uncle, and that
almost everyone can recall a very important childless person in their
lives, whether related or not. I realized that I wanted to be that
person who listens intently when children are talking about what is
important to them. I want to compliment them on their strengths and
encourage their talents. I want to use this time when I don't have my
own children to make memories with my nieces and nephews. I want to take
them on adventures, even if the adventure is Chick-Fil-A, because Kate
and Liv seemed pretty excited our Girls Only dinner there last week. I
want to give them some unique gift that is the unlikely item that gets
cherished for decades, like Alf. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> Anyone who sees me post photos
or quotes about my nieces and nephews, and tells me that I'm a good
aunt... you should know that I learned it all from Aunt Sandy. </span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Even now, as grown adults, when it's Christmas afternoon and there's
that lull in the festivities, Patrick and Eileen and I will turn to each
other and say, "Shouldn't Aunt Sandy be taking us to the movies?"<br /></span></span><br />
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</span></span>Jean Beldinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03688059724299254527noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-493187969500318957.post-21163505483652585312015-12-22T23:13:00.004-06:002016-05-10T22:33:26.330-05:00The One with the Christmas Lights<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">My parents have a large
window in their living room, perfect for staring out into the street. Of
course I'm talking about staring out the window as a child, but it's
just as true now, with my dad checking out every unfamiliar noise. One
time, Patrick stared out the window the whole time we were waiting for
pizza to be delivered. He was between the window and the curtain,
staring. He was going to announce when the pizza arrived, so that Dad
could get up and pay the guy and get the pizza. I'm pretty sure my
parents had kids so that they wouldn't have to get up as much (smart).
We were the remote control when our television still had a dial. When
Patrick and I got older, Eileen inherited remote control duty. By then,
my parents had the better TV without a dial (Dad reminded me that they
had to upgrade their TV because of the Christmas Nintendo), but it still
had no remote, so they would call Eileen in from another room to change
the channel. On the night that the sentinel awaited the pizza man,
Patrick was quiet in the curtains for a long time, then suddenly
announced, "The pizza man!"... and Dad got up... "is NOT here!" Dad got
up for nothing!</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> Underneath this same window was a small flat
circle, midway between the window and the floor, that would sometimes
fall out of the wall. Among the many make believe stories that my mom
would make up for us, she told us that a bunny lived in that hole. At
the time, the couch covered up that wall, but we'd crawl behind it,
because we were kids and we fit in small spaces. We'd take the circle
out of the wall, and Dad would tell us to put it back, because at some
point, they must have patched it up, because there's no circle now. One
time, we took the circle out and there was a drawing of a bunny in
there, which my mom had drawn and put there.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> I remember looking
out the window when asking if we could go to Disneyland, probably as a
result of a television commercial or the weekly Disney Sunday Movie
(back when Michael Eisner and Mickey Mouse introduced the movie and the
world was a better place). My parents totally passed off the blame of us
not going to Disneyland by always answering that we would go to
Disneyland when Tina got married, which we did. Thank goodness for
Scott. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> I also remember looking out the window the many times
that I asked if we could put up Christmas lights on our house. I don't
remember their answer, but they never put up Christmas lights. Our
indoor Christmas lights were big fire-hazard bulbs that eventually had
to be replaced with modern Christmas lights, since they had dwindled
over the years. We would use those bulbs for the nightlight in me and
Patrick's room. That was actually fantastic, because I'd go down in the
basement (probably because Mom and Dad didn't want to get up) and pick
out the next color of nightlight bulb. What would it be this time? Red,
green, blue... life was exciting!</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> When I went to California for
Bible College, I was away from home for four months. I left the end of
August. I saw my mom when she came out in October for the Pastors' Wives
Conference (but mostly to see me). For Thanksgiving, Crystal and Adam
gave me a ride to Arizona, where I spent the weekend with Joel, and met
his grandparents for the first time. It was my meet-the-parents
experience, because I had known Anne and JB as long as I'd known Joel. A
couple weeks before Thanksgiving, Joel's sweet grandmother sent me a
letter at school, saying how they were looking forward to seeing me, and
they wanted me to feel right at home when I stayed with them. I did
have a wonderful Thanksgiving with them, and they made me feel very
comfortable at their house. When the Christmas break came in December, I
was looking forward to being at my real home. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> I flew back to
Missouri, and my family met me at the airport, back when you could meet
someone at their gate, back when our view of terrorists was the Libyans
that were after Doc Brown for stealing their plutonium. We drove home in
the blue Chevy Caprice. As we turned the corner from Stephens Place to
Fairway Court, I saw one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen... </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> My home... and that window was decorated with a few strands of Christmas lights.</span></span>Jean Beldinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03688059724299254527noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-493187969500318957.post-2147294064023531562015-12-21T22:30:00.002-06:002015-12-23T23:12:17.313-06:00The One with the Christmas Trees<div data-contents="true">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">When we first moved to Missouri, I remember my mom assembling a
hand-me-down fake tree. It was not like the ones you buy at Target
today, that come pre-lit, and all you have to do is fluff out the
branches. Oh no. After hauling the massive cube of the falling-apart
cardboard box upstairs, the first step was to sort the branches by what
color was marked on the peg at the base of the branch. Then, one by one,
the branches were inserted into a pole with holes in it. The color
coding indicated which larger branches went at the bottom and which
smaller branches went at the top. Obviously, we did this while Dad was
at work, because it made a huge mess.</span></span></div>
<div data-contents="true">
</div>
<div data-contents="true">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> That was before I knew the
cardinal rule of Christmas trees, for every year, a decree would go
forth from Dad that we could not get a Christmas tree until after his
birthday (December 10). Recently, I made up this parody song that begins
with, "It's beginning to look a lot like Dad's birthday, everywhere you
go... there's a tree in the Grand Hotel, one in the park as well,
[crescendo] but not one in our house til after December tenth!" When
everyone was grown and married, we could sometimes sneak the Christmas
tree trip in a few days earlier, if it was the only day that worked for
everyone. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> Perhaps the segue between the ridiculous puzzle of a
fake tree and our time honored family tradition was the year that Dad
took me and Patrick to the Breckenridge "National" grocery store parking
lot to pick out a tree from the someone-else-cut-it-down lot. I'm
pretty sure that was 1990, when Eileen was a baby. Perhaps Mom wasn't up
to putting the puzzle tree together, maybe it had gotten too Charlie
Brown-ish, or maybe Dad did not have the patience for the puzzle tree.
Whatever the case, we got a REAL tree.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> I believe 1991 to be the
inaugural year of the family tradition, because the following year, I
knew to bring my camera, loaded with 110 film. We took a road trip to
the faaaaar away land of O'Fallon, walked around the Christmas tree farm
in the cold, agreed on a Christmas tree, cut it down, and brought it
home. [Do not let these Christmas memories fool you into thinking that
every family decision was a vote, because I heard a whole lot of
"because I'm the dad" and "because I'm the mom".]</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> I remember one
year, our Christmas tree leaned so badly that it had to be in a corner,
with string tied to the trunk, and staked to two walls to keep it
upright... and it still kept falling over. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> The Queen of Tinsel,
also known as my mom, taught us the rules of hanging tinsel. THE RULES:
One must hang tinsel one strand at a time. Pull a strand over the
branch, until two-thirds of the strand hangs on the opposite side from
where you started pulling. Distribute as evenly as possible. Do not even
consider globs of tinsel. Do not even consider throwing it. I do not
think that my mom has OCD tendencies, the closest she ever gets is that
she likes to choose seating arrangements for groups. Perhaps every speck
of her OCD must be saved up for Christmastime, to be used on perfecting
the tinsel. And I love that about her.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> According to my mom, it
was my dad's idea to cut down Christmas trees. Nobody guessed that the
tradition would last more than twenty years. We always went to the very
same Christmas tree lot, where you could pay cash or a personal check.
Dad always talked with the owner. When we first started going there, the
lot was in the middle of no place, woods as far as the eye could see.
Slowly, the area got more and more built up, until there were new
housing developments right across the street. Dad asked the owner if he
had considered selling the land, and the owner said no, and that it was
the only place in Missouri that a particular kind of Christmas tree
grew.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> The first year that Dad missed was 2006. It was extremely
icy on the day we went, and I think that we all slipped and fell while
walking around, searching for the perfect tree. The amount of time that
it took to find the perfect tree was always directly proportional to how
nice the weather was. Sunny and forty degrees? Well, better walk around
for over an hour. Mark potential trees with bright gloves and scarves,
then try to re-find your gloves and scarves and evaluate whether or not
that tree is better or worse than the one just over that hill. Cloudy
and 28 degrees? That one's fine. But in 2006, Dad wisely decided that
since he was still recovering from his stroke, he and Mom would stay
home with little David and baby James, instead of walking around on icy
hills. The three couples went out and chose three trees, with the
engaged Eileen and Steve choosing the one for Mom and Dad's house. We
braved the ice because we all wanted Christmas trees before Tina and
Scott arrived for a visit later that day. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> Another new fun
dynamic was added to the Christmas tree tradition when the kids started
getting excited about it. David picked out a tree that was well over
fifty feet tall, because it was clearly the best. David and James walked
around with their own saws, that were almost as big as they were.
Patrick and Tanya infamously overestimated how much space they had.
Several years in a row, they had to chop off the bottom of the tree to
fit it in their duplex, which is unfortunate, as the Christmas trees
were priced by the foot. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> The tradition eventually faded away, as
it became more and more difficult to coordinate a day when we could all
go together. Because that was part of the excitement, everyone going
out together, buying multiple trees, and occasionally eating at Culver's
on the way home. Joel and I stopped buying trees the last few years, as
our house felt too empty and quiet for all the joy of a real tree. At
one point, I bought a fake three-foot tree from Wal-mart, which felt
both devastating and relieving, to accept that Joel and I would not be
expecting any children to join our family for some years to come. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
I am so thankful that the kids got to experience the same Christmas
tree memories and excitement as we had when we were growing up, and I'm
so thankful that our family Christmas tree tradition lasted so long. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
I am extremely sad to report that Sunbrite Christmas Tree Farm in
O'Fallon has closed. It appears that their last season was 2013. The
business may be gone, but the traditions that we forged there will live
on in our memories.</span></span><br />
<br /><a href="https://www.facebook.com/jean.belding/videos/10206972888832681/?l=9137523040583457411">David and James Get a Christmas Tree (2010)</a><br /><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> Joel and I don't always put up our three-foot
Christmas tree. We've been skipping it every other year, because we're
lazy and because we're busy and because nobody even knows whether we set
it up or not. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> We plan to be parents someday. Over the last few
years, God has directed us towards being foster parents, which may or
may not include adopting children. Many children are not eligible for
adoption, but still need amazing parents like us. Parents who care about
them, teach them about Jesus, decorate for Christmas, share
experiences, start traditions, welcome them into a huge loving family
with cousins and grandparents and aunts and uncles.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> So one
December day in the future, probably still several years away, Joel and I
will take our children to cut down a fresh Christmas tree. We will find
a new Christmas tree farm far away, with woods as far as the eye can
see, and we'll take a photo every year. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> ... after December 10, of course. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> And when that day comes... <br /><br />Mom will come over and teach our kids the rules of tinsel.</span></span><br />
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Jean Beldinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03688059724299254527noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-493187969500318957.post-73719506533014814472015-12-20T17:05:00.000-06:002015-12-22T23:15:49.810-06:00The One with "The Twelve Days of Christmas In Our Family"<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Christmastime is magical when you're a kid, even without Santa Claus. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">
We weren't a Santa Claus family. My parents were concerned that if they
taught us to believe in Santa Claus, that there would come a day when
we'd find out that they lied to us, then question the existence of
Jesus, who we also cannot see, and who also sees when we are sleeping
and knows when we're awake. But their more immediate concern was that
they wanted credit for giving us presents. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> As a matter of fact, I
cannot think of any time when my parents lied to us. Sometimes they
only told part of the truth, like how Patrick remembers my dad saying
that "someone" bought the Nintendo from the garage sale next door,
conveniently leaving out the part about it being him. Sometimes the
truth was blunt, like when my mom would tell us on the way to the doctor
that we were going to get a shot, and that it was going to hurt. But
they never lied... or if they did, they were so good that I still don't
know about it. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> We were taught to be polite about other people
believing in Santa Claus, especially that we were never allowed to tell
someone that he wasn't real. My parents tell of one Sunday when Eileen
and her friend were in the back seat of the car on the way to church.
The friend was talking about Santa Claus, and Eileen was just shaking
her head, and making sure Mom and Dad knew that she wasn't saying
anything. Anyone who knew Young Eileen, will know what great restraint
she showed, as she was not known for her quietness. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> The presents
from my parents would get wrapped as they were bought, and stacked up
under the Christmas tree. Occasionally there would be an upset, like the
time our dog Judy ate through the wrapping paper and box to get to
Dad's chocolate covered cherries (he was not pleased). Dad would bring
me the presents that he bought for Mom, and I would wrap them. We always
got to open one present (of Mom and Dad's choosing) on Christmas Eve.
In the few days that followed Christmas, someone might get a bonus gift,
if Mom found a hidden present that she forgot to wrap. I remember
getting a calendar that had been hidden under the kitchen sink. Eileen
sometimes got age-appropriate presents that needed tested by older
siblings, such as the Little Tykes 8-key rainbow piano that still
resides in my parents basement. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> The only thing as magical as
being a kid at Christmastime is watching the next generation of kids
start to enjoy Christmas. When my niece Melanie was about three years
old, she wanted every present taken out of the packaging as soon as she
unwrapped it, which is normal. But then while someone was opening it,
she would stare at them, and in a squealing voice, full of Christmas
enthusiasm, she'd say, "Do it! Do it! Do it! Do it!" until the present
was free from the packaging. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> When my nephews David and James
were old enough to thoroughly enjoy Christmastime, Patrick began singing
them a bedtime song called, "The Twelve Days of Christmas in our
Family". It seems like a long time ago that our family could be crammed
into twelve lines of a song. By next summer, when Tina and Scott and
Sammie are in town, we'll be a party of TWENTY. But back in 2007, when
my parents had half as many grandchildren, Patrick wrote these creative
descriptions that have held up over time. The only exception (note that
phrase, Eileen) is that James has grasped the full range of personal
pronouns. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> Here are the lyrics to the classic song, along with the video of it's debut. </span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">On the twelfth day of Christmas in our family...<br /> Abby wants what Kate has<br /> Kate wants what Abby has<br /> James says 'my love you'<br /> David's a super helper<br /> Steve can grow a beard<br /> Eileen's kinda whiny<br /> Tanya's super busy<br /> Paaaaat is so cooooool<br /> Joel is super tall<br /> Jean loves ducks<br /> Grandma loves us all<br /> And Grandpa's really got no hair on top</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/jean.belding/videos/1260837973052/?l=941136226279206436">The Twelve Days of Christmas in Our Family</a></span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> </span></span>Jean Beldinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03688059724299254527noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-493187969500318957.post-54914078019245399642015-12-19T13:07:00.000-06:002015-12-19T13:07:32.303-06:00The One With the Stranded Stranger<div data-contents="true">
<div class="_209g _2vxa" data-block="true" data-offset-key="4ngft-0-0">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span data-offset-key="4ngft-0-0"><span data-text="true">My family had received a Christmas gift of $100 from an out-of-town pastor's wife, who was friends with my parents, and knew what it was like to be scraping by at Christmastime. The $100 was on the fridge, and no decision had yet been made on how it would be spent, but it was going to be something that the whole family could enjoy. </span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="_209g _2vxa" data-block="true" data-offset-key="a06qd-0-0">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span data-offset-key="a06qd-0-0"><br data-text="true" /></span></span></span></div>
<div class="_209g _2vxa" data-block="true" data-offset-key="csqh7-0-0">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span data-offset-key="csqh7-0-0"><span data-text="true">I remember this happening on Christmas morning, after opening presents, and before we had dinner, because Mom was working on food in the kitchen when Dad got the phone call. [My parents are welcome to correct any details, but I will tell you the version from my Christmas memories.] </span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="_209g _2vxa" data-block="true" data-offset-key="6sa64-0-0">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span data-offset-key="6sa64-0-0"><br data-text="true" /></span></span></span></div>
<div class="_209g _2vxa" data-block="true" data-offset-key="94pc-0-0">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span data-offset-key="94pc-0-0"><span data-text="true">At the time, our home phone was also the church phone line. We all answered it as, "Hosanna Calvary Chapel", and it was a normal thing for Dad to get important phone calls, during which we should be quiet, and if he wanted to speak privately, he would walk down the basement stairs with the long phone cord from near the back door. That Christmas morning, he got a call from a pastor in Maine, who told him that there was a man stranded in Illinois, not far outside of St. Louis, trying to get home to Maine, and needed money for gas and food. Would Dad be willing to give him money, and this pastor that Dad had never met would send him a check?</span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="_209g _2vxa" data-block="true" data-offset-key="2772s-0-0">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span data-offset-key="2772s-0-0"><br data-text="true" /></span></span></span></div>
<div class="_209g _2vxa" data-block="true" data-offset-key="7no3j-0-0">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span data-offset-key="7no3j-0-0"><span data-text="true">We had $100 on the fridge. </span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="_209g _2vxa" data-block="true" data-offset-key="autgg-0-0">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span data-offset-key="autgg-0-0"><br data-text="true" /></span></span></span></div>
<div class="_209g _2vxa" data-block="true" data-offset-key="1dpi2-0-0">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span data-offset-key="1dpi2-0-0"><span data-text="true">Dad got off the phone and called all of us together and told us the situation of the stranger who was stranded and trying to get home. He said that this $100 belonged to our whole family, and all of us had to make a decision together. He could take the man the money, and we would probably get it back in a few weeks, but there was the chance that we might not. What did we want to do? </span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="_209g _2vxa" data-block="true" data-offset-key="27rq6-0-0">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span data-offset-key="27rq6-0-0"><br data-text="true" /></span></span></span></div>
<div class="_209g _2vxa" data-block="true" data-offset-key="bpdpo-0-0">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span data-offset-key="bpdpo-0-0"><span data-text="true">We all quickly agreed that Dad should take the money to help the man. Mom made up a bunch of sandwiches, and Dad left to go help this stranger. Shortly afterwards, we were reimbursed the money, and I have no idea what it was spent on. But I do remember that as children, we were included in the decision, and given the opportunity to choose to make a sacrifice to help someone. My dad could have made the decision himself. He would have also not taken the money if we had not decided to help. My parents taught us a wonderful lesson about giving that day, which also embraces the very spirit of Christmas and everything that God has done for us, to sacrifice something of great worth, to save someone else. </span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="_209g _2vxa" data-block="true" data-offset-key="evq6h-0-0">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span data-offset-key="evq6h-0-0"><br data-text="true" /></span></span></span></div>
<div class="_209g _2vxa" data-block="true" data-offset-key="82obs-0-0">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span data-offset-key="82obs-0-0"><span data-text="true">Oh... but the story doesn't stop with my childhood memories... </span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="_209g _2vxa" data-block="true" data-offset-key="8gt5p-0-0">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span data-offset-key="8gt5p-0-0"><br data-text="true" /></span></span></span></div>
<div class="_209g _2vxa" data-block="true" data-offset-key="aqlgg-0-0">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span data-offset-key="aqlgg-0-0"><span data-text="true">Because years and years later, my dad was on a trip in Israel. The whole tour group was sitting around a table, and this story was being told. My dad told his side, including how blessed he was that his family wanted to minister. Then the pastor from Maine told his side, about what was happening in the stranded man's life, how he made it home, and how he's serving the Lord in the church. Then my Dad told the pastor from Maine that the only reason my family was able to help the stranded man was because of the $100 we had been given from the pastor's wife,... who was also sitting at their table. </span></span></span></span></div>
</div>
Jean Beldinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03688059724299254527noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-493187969500318957.post-29142538373623185182015-12-18T17:45:00.000-06:002015-12-19T13:08:18.098-06:00The One Where We Got the Nintendo<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">It was the Christmas we
went to Ohio. My parents drove through the night, and put Baby Eileen's
car seat in the front seat between them, so that Patrick and I could
sleep in the back. One of us slept on the bench seat, one of us on the
floor with pillows stuffed around that hump in the middle of the car. I
remember stopping at a rest stop and putting on our coats to go use the
bathroom and it was that bitter winter cold that is only found in Ohio.
It was on this trip that we first heard the song, "Grandma Got Run Over
By a Reindeer", and Patrick and I laughed so hard! It was the funniest
song we had ever heard!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;"> For weeks leading up to the trip, my
parents told Patrick and I that they had bought us one big gift to
share. They reiterated this many times, making sure that we would not be
disappointed over opening one shared gift. We were excited, and over
and over again said that we would not be disappointed, that we wanted
the big shared present. Keep in mind that my parents were poor. We were
not allowed to ask for things at the grocery store, where the cheapest
of everything was bought. Back then, squeeze bottles of ketchup were
new, so my mom would buy ketchup sold in the cheaper glass bottle and
pour it into the same reused squeeze bottle at home. (They don't love me
telling that, but rest assured that they can afford squeeze bottle
ketchup now.) But for you to realize how big our shared present was, you
have to realize that they couldn't afford the extra 10 cents for
squeeze bottle ketchup.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;"> We couldn't imagine what our big shared
present would be, but I guessed it would be a large item. By the time
Mom and Dad were telling us about the Most Amazing Shared Present, we
had long since forgotten the garage sale in the basement of the duplex
next door, where our neighbor had been selling a Nintendo for $50, half
the retail price. I remember that Patrick and I pointed out the bargain
to my parents. Note that we did not *ask* for the Nintendo, because we
were not supposed to ask for things. Instead we used our skills of
giving hints, such as, "Look at this Nintendo", subtly admire it, keep
walking. We knew there was no way that they were going to get us a
Nintendo, we weren't crazy.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;"> So there we were in Ohio, all the
presents having been opened, and my parents asked if we were ready to
open The Shared Present. It seems like they even went to get it out of a
closet. Then they presented us with a teeny tiny box, about the size of
a business card, wrapped. We were so confused, because how could our
shared present be in such a small box? When we opened it, we found a
picture of a Nintendo, clipped from an ad. We were so excited! I don't
remember anything of the drive home, perhaps because we were looking
forward to playing Super Mario Bros. I do remember that as soon as we
walked in the door, Dad immediately set it up for us, even though it was
past our bedtime.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">The Nintendo itself was a fantastic present,
as well as the hype that led up to it. But what I love best about this
Christmas memory was how much it cost my parents: a fortune.</span> </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> </span>Jean Beldinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03688059724299254527noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-493187969500318957.post-73678573759303160992015-12-01T16:14:00.002-06:002015-12-01T16:20:17.844-06:00My Favorite Holiday<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<![endif]--><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">My favorite holiday is coming... and
it's not Christmas.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Let me describe it for you<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">.</span></span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Imagine your most anticipated
holiday, complete with childlike anticipation, hoping it will come soon, and
imagining what surprises it may hold!</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Now add balloons... and presents...
and bouquets of flowers... and family gathered together to celebrate, knowing
that you'll tell stories of each of these individual holidays for years to
come. There are no unpleasant aspects, because other people have done all the
work and paid for everything, and you've been given the best event
responsibilities, like relaxing and getting everyone psyched up. It's extra
exciting because this holiday has no set date and no set frequency. It does not
always happen every year. Sometimes the calendar gets marked with the exact day
months in advance, and sometimes the holiday is not announced until the day of
the celebration. Imagine going to bed every night, feeling like a kid on
Christmas Eve, hoping you will wake up to someone telling you that it's the
holiday, so that you can call your job and tell them you aren't coming today,
or tomorrow, or maybe even the next day. Every celebration must be savored as
if it were the very last holiday of its kind, because this holiday will not
last forever, there are a limited number of celebrations, and you may not know
that you've celebrated it for the last time until many years later.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">I have celebrated my favorite
holiday twelve times,... and it's been almost three years since the last
celebration. Perhaps you will understand why I have zero Christmas spirit when
I tell you this...</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">My favorite holiday will occur TWICE
in the next few months.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Aunt Day, late-January 2016,
courtesy of Patrick and Tanya.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Aunt Day, mid-March 2016, courtesy
of Eileen and Stephen.</span> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">Thanks also to past hosts of Aunt Day, Becky and Mark, Tina
and Scott, as well as others who have made my favorite holiday possible, Carol
and Dave, Anne and JB.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgBdxLjErXEu267BubFfFVxE8rrDRR9CuP4HKzLWVehRo-xZPdEoLQFWQFI0z3A7SxK7vk3cRlOVP1g9M0IJZoTRWVor3plTsWbo7P9xRZbVPi5zZsU3h_s2D9_BQGyBYMRWZ9VxheSyk/s1600/Aunt+Day.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgBdxLjErXEu267BubFfFVxE8rrDRR9CuP4HKzLWVehRo-xZPdEoLQFWQFI0z3A7SxK7vk3cRlOVP1g9M0IJZoTRWVor3plTsWbo7P9xRZbVPi5zZsU3h_s2D9_BQGyBYMRWZ9VxheSyk/s320/Aunt+Day.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
Jean Beldinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03688059724299254527noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-493187969500318957.post-31566351089019899542014-01-15T01:30:00.000-06:002014-01-15T01:30:14.083-06:00An Appendix and a Clogged Drain<br />
<div>
<div>
<span style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Written by Joel, sent out on our church prayer chain today: <br /></span></span></span><br />
<div>
<span style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">"First off, my brother in law Mark is out of the hospital, appendix taken
out successfully, and is at home resting now. Continue to lift him up that
he will be back to 100 percent ASAP. <br /><br />"Second, Dave encouraged
us this past Sunday to pray for the [church] body every time we saw a prayer request come
through. This is a small thing, but in a huge way I credit everyone's
intercession as the reason. This morning Jean told me that our tub drain
was all clogged and not draining. This is not a big deal at all, just
meant I would need to stop by and get some Drano on my way home from work
tonight. I was at work for about 5 minutes when our maintenance guy looked
through a tunnel window at the carwash and said, "What is that doing in
there?" I walked over and saw a really weird plastic device stuck up high
above one of the dividers in our carwash. He said, "That is a special tool
for unclogging drains, go get rid of it." To me, I was staring at God's
provision for our drain, not a huge deal really, but I knew immediately that God
was answering everyone's prayers for my brother in law as well! If you
need an appendix out, God will provide skilled hands; if you need a drain
unclogged, He has you covered too."</span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<span style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;">
</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjzf16oomMswwcX3vWbOo9Pz_hSOd1iAb6avqAcmH3uw-GqClkUlwEt9E3OW3mbtxYwu-vs9AAsAW9CaPaPylsqnduz-lIL-dK3g5WGZwgT_S5tU4_1y9REVNjp1ezUnABYX73xxrR-6w/s1600/drain.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjzf16oomMswwcX3vWbOo9Pz_hSOd1iAb6avqAcmH3uw-GqClkUlwEt9E3OW3mbtxYwu-vs9AAsAW9CaPaPylsqnduz-lIL-dK3g5WGZwgT_S5tU4_1y9REVNjp1ezUnABYX73xxrR-6w/s320/drain.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;"><br /><br /><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">"And my God shall supply all your need according to His riches in glory by Christ Jesus." -- Phil. 4:19</span></span></span></div>
Jean Beldinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03688059724299254527noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-493187969500318957.post-65354733950556471322013-09-08T20:11:00.002-05:002013-09-08T22:05:27.612-05:00Best Cruise Ever<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">You might read about our vacation and think, "Weirdos." <br /><br />Who takes their parents on vacation? Who has a good marriage *and* parents with good marriages? Who has two sets of parents who enjoy being in the company of each other?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">We do!</span><br />
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<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Our first cruise celebrated our 10th anniversary in 2011. We loved the experience, the friends we made, the places we went, everything! When we went on a second cruise in 2012, we knew we wanted to bring our parents with us. We discussed it with them, making sure that those prone to motion-sickness were on board. (Pun intended.) Everyone wanted to go and we began to make plans. Things fell into place when we found out that we didn't owe taxes this year, which freed up one of the quarterly bonuses that Joel receives from work. We did the math, and announced to our parents that we were taking them on an all-expenses-paid trip to Mexico. We told them we love them, we appreciate all they've done for us over the years, and we've had so much fun cruising that we wanted to share it with them also. Along the lines of 'what do you buy for the person who has everything', we figured that our siblings already have them covered for grandchildren, so we'd get them a cruise.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Last week, the wait was finally over. We left after church on Sunday, which was also Mom's birthday. Our first stop was Cracker Barrel, where Joel advised everyone to start 'stretching out their stomachs'. We enjoyed the ride south, adding new states for some of our parents.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I had gotten a really cheap rate for our first night's stay at Days Inn in McComb, MS. But when we attempted to check in, around midnight, they had lost our paid reservation, and the printed out email with a confirmation number stumped the apathetic front desk person. No apology was offered, and although rooms were available, it seemed too difficult for her to rent them to us. After far too long of standing in the smoke-infested lobby, we got back in the rented mini-van. On the same exit, we tried Comfort Inn, with a locked front door and no one to buzz us in, and Howard Johnson, with a nice lobby, but no attendant. Feeling like we were in Bethlehem during a census, we drove on down the road until we hit Louisiana. Turns out that God wanted us to stay at the ah-may-zing Holiday Inn Express in Amite City. At 1:00am, we stepped up to the door, and the most friendly hotel representative I've ever met buzzed us into the lobby. Debra was wonderfully cheerful and accommodating. She gave us all three rooms at the veteran rate that Dad requested, which was almost $50 less than the advertised rate on the internet. We all slept wonderfully, in beautiful rooms!</span><br />
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<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Monday afternoon, after a scenic drive around the streets of New Orleans that we've so often seen on episodes of "Cops" and after a trip to Wal-mart, we boarded the Carnival Elation. We saw our rooms on the Empress deck (107, 111, 117). We ate at the buffet. We walked around the ship. We sat on the deck as the ship departed down the Mississippi River. When our suitcases were delivered to our rooms, we wondered why it was taking them so long to deliver our garment bags. Joel came back to the room for nap time, and I mentioned that our garment bag and Dad's garment bag hadn't been delivered yet. He realized right away that we had never taken them out of the Dodge Grand Caravan's 'stow-and-go' beneath the seats. The garment bags weren't missing, they were in the rental van, in the parking garage. When I saw Dad, he had also realized where they were. We had each been worried about each other, but it turned out that everyone had plenty of clothes for dinner, but it'd be on the casual side, since no one could 'suit up'. We had a private table for dinners in the Inspiration Dining Room, so everyone enjoyed being casual, and Joel didn't wear a tie on elegant night.</span><br />
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<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">On our first cruise, we found it difficult to know if we were walking towards the front or back of the ship, and got turned around several times. I shouldn't have been surprised when Dad was instantly oriented to the ship, knowing where everything was, and which way to take. Navy knowledge of port and starboard must be easily translated from destroyers to cruise ships. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Tuesday morning, our first Sea Day, my parents were camped out on the starboard side of the ship, which was shady as we sailed south. They had secured the perfect location for our morning relaxation: shade, breeze, near food, overlooking the water. We all sat there for the first half of the day, admiring the royal blue water and enjoying the cool breeze.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Lobster Night was a hit. Our waiter, Edwin "Eddie" from the Philippines, was fantastic. Absolutely fantastic. We enjoyed his serving at dinner and his talented dance moves. On the much anticipated Lobster Night, Joel and I felt like parents taking their children to Disneyland, in that we don't care to eat lobster, but we're happy to see others enjoying it. Dad, Mom, and JB all got lobster tails. Dad skipped the starters, so he could save room for lobster, and ordered two plates, which also came with shrimp and mashed potatoes. Eddie offered to bring more lobster before anyone could ask for additional helpings. I think that JB and Mom each managed two lobster tails. Dad set a new personal record by eating three lobster tails in one sitting. He couldn't even finish his shrimp on the final plate. When Patrick heard the story, he had assumed that it had been over the course of a week that Dad had eaten three lobsters, and was surprised when I clarified that, no, it was in one sitting! It was no surprise that JB tried everything weird and unusual, which he claimed wasn't that weird and unusual, but his choices were listed under the "didja ever..." section of the menu, and included things like frog legs that still looked like frog legs, sushi, alligator bites, escargot (Joel says, "escar-nasty"), and more. JB said, "If you always try everything, you never know what will be your next favorite food." My favorite food is Warm Chocolate Melting Cake. Everyone thought I was exaggerating when I said I was going to get it every night, but I proved them wrong! We all laughed about Anne's cold soups, which were each brought with a very small portion of flavorful something in the middle of a bowl, and then the waiter would return with the soup to pour around the asparagus, or strawberry, whatever it was. It was especially funny on the first night, when some of us ordered two starters, and she was presented with a large bowl, with barely one bite of food on it, and Eddie didn't return for some minutes, leaving us all wondering about the tiny portion.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Wednesday was our first stop: Progreso, Mexico. We got off the ship, rode the bus in from the five-mile-long pier, and booked our excursion to a private beach through Auto Progreso. </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">(While waiting to depart, no one would pose with an iguana on their shoulder, no matter how much I begged.) </span>Our tour guide, Marianna, made the 25-minute bus ride seem short, by telling us about the area and the history of the Yucatan Peninsula. I found it most interesting that "Yucatan" means "I don't know", because when the Spaniards asked the Mayans what the name of their land was, the Mayans didn't understand their question, and answered, "I don't know." The private beach was so much more enjoyable than the public beach that Joel and I had visited the year before, where people were selling things up and down the beach the entire day. The private beach was clean and pretty and relaxing. The water was shallow for a long ways out. Our only complaint was the music that was playing when we arrived. It wasn't our style of music, which we might have overlooked, except that it was very R-rated. Apparently, if Spanish is your first language, English curse words and explicit language aren't offensive. Joel complained (after I complained, with no results) and they changed it to Spanish. The lyrics may have been just as bad, but now the fluency was reversed, and I was the one who wouldn't know the difference. Later, a Mariachi band came, and walked around singing "Happy Birthday" for people. We'll never know if they could play or sing anything else, because they only did many rounds of "Happy Birthday". Anne and Joel got massages on the beach (only $40 for two people, supposed to be 30 minutes, but lasted an hour). The excursion was all-inclusive, with food and drinks. We enjoyed sodas, but people riding back on our same bus had enjoyed lots of alcohol, which made for an annoying bus ride back to the ship. Marianna was amazing, joining the party of drunks in the back of the bus and somehow calming them down.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Thursday was our second stop: Cozumel, Mexico. We went to Joel and my favorite place, Chankanaab State Park, where the Caribbean Sea gets deep right away, super salty, and has more fish than JB and Joel can see in one day. They barely came out of the water all day, enjoying the fish and taking photos and videos with JB's new underwater camera. I had brought JB contact lenses to wear for the day, and it was the first time he'd been able to see underwater! He and Joel could have stayed there for a week and not been satisfied that they'd seen enough fish... we were only there about five hours. Mom liked the water, but wearing a life jacket makes you bob more with the waves, so swimming in the Caribbean Sea gave her more motion sickness than being on the ship. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">We had only one night on board that was rocky. We could feel the ship swaying at dinner. The weather was windy and we were sailing at 42 knots, rather than an easy-going 12-15. After dinner, both JB and Mom were feeling queasy, and we all decided not to go see the magician or the comedy show, but instead go to bed early. JB, Mom, and Dad all ended up wearing wrist bands for motion sickness and taking Dramamine, but everyone fared well overall, with no puking, thank God.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Usually, on our returning Sea Day, Joel and I feel let down, disappointed that our cruise is already over, and wondering how soon we can do it again. This time, we woke up on Friday, feeling like the week was finally complete. We were able to pack enough enjoyment and relaxing into our 5-day cruise. Our dream of taking our parents was a reality at last! We spent our last day lazily eating more food, playing cards near where the food is served (Shanghai, and I won), taking final naps, and seeing the comedian who told a joke that JB had already told us the day before. Even the drive home seemed to go quicker with good company. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Our final hurrah was Saturday night dinner at Lambert's restaurant (home of the throwed rolls), in Miner, Missouri. We had memorized the exit number as we drove south, and talked about stopping on the way home. Even though everyone had followed Joel's advice thoroughly, arriving at Lambert's with our stomachs ready, we still weren't able to finish our dinners there. They threw rolls, they walked by dishing out fried potatoes, fried okra, beans, macaroni and tomatoes, apple butter for the throwed rolls, and cracking jokes along the aisles. Anne drank a bucket of tea. The food was delicious and the staff was entertaining and we only wished that we lived closer to a Lambert's and that it wasn't signaling the end of our trip. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Though I can't tell it the same, Mom and Dad said that JB ended the trip perfectly with just the right joke, told as we drove down our street... that he went on a business trip, and was getting ready for the evening. He put on his tie, and heard a voice say, "Nice tie." He looked around and didn't see anyone, but was kinda creeped out. Next, he was combing his hair, and heard, "Nice haircut." Now he was getting really creeped out. Finally, as he was putting on his jacket, he heard, "Nice suit." It was too much, and he called down to the front desk, and told them everything. They assured him that everything was fine, and that was just the complimentary mint on his pillow. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Even though Anne insisted upon thanking us at every turn (she can't help it, she even hugged me and thanked me in the Cracker Barrel bathroom), we have even more to be thankful for. We are so blessed to have such great parents, who we count as our closest friends, who get along with each other, who went on this adventure with us, who we love so much. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">It was the best week ever.</span><br />
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<span class="fbPhotoTagList" id="fbPhotoSnowliftTagList"></span>Jean Beldinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03688059724299254527noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-493187969500318957.post-20901566570452295542012-07-25T23:30:00.000-05:002012-07-25T23:30:04.110-05:00Summer Olympic Goals<span style="font-size: small;">Joel and I watched the 2008 Olympics as avid Phelps Phans, cheering on the Americans in swimming and gymnastics, but paying relatively little attention to the running track, except for Usain Bolt. We both had good jobs, but did not derive much satisfaction from them. We were sending a hefty monthly check to our credit consolidation company. And while everyone else on the planet was pregnant, we had not yet shared our adoption plans with our families. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">We vowed that when the next Summer Olympics came around, in the very distant future of 2012, we would either be parents or debt free. Both these aspirations seemed highly unlikely, but we set the goal nonetheless. How would we save money for adoption while dealing with our massive debt? I wish I had noted the dollar amount we owed in July 2008, a mere four years after we had begun accumulating it. I estimate we owed somewhere in the neighborhood of $20,000. During this time, I had added up all the interest we paid on everything (including our house), and found that three out of four weeks, I went to work to pay interest. And why did paying off debt even matter if we had no toddlers with whom to share our lives?</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">The very distance future of the Summer Olympics 2012 dawns on a different couple. Same people, but much changed over the past four years. We are still Phelps Phans, but enjoy watching Ryan Lochte just as much. Gymnastics will always be our favorite Olympic event, transforming us into pros, who can expertly critic holds and landings and vaults. Usain Bolt is only one of many runners, all of whom have times and feats that wow us even more, in light of our healthier lives. Joel now runs several times a week, entering many races, and hopes to be part of the top ten for the Labor Day Run. I suggested a stair climb in March, a 5k on the morning of July 4th, and go to the gym regularly. My clothing tags don't list my dream numbers. The scale doesn't reflect my hard work. I've quit Weight Watchers. But I eat healthier in order to feel better. I surprise myself with the strength I've gained since the beginning of the year. And I'm not out of breath when I climb three flights of stairs. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">Our jobs have morphed. Joel went from Manager to Senior Manager to General Manager, running Waterway's Westport location as of this past April. I changed jobs twice in the last year, leaving Overland Optical just before becoming a certified optician (that's right, I can add "ABOC" after my name). I spent six months at a poorly run company, owned by an uncaring doctor, and managed by a petty control-freak. Now I come home stress-free and enjoy a well-rounded job of helping people choose eyeglasses, running tests for the doctor, tagging frames, submitting insurance, compiling paperwork, and discussing People magazine with my two coworkers. The three of us make up the "Sappington" division of Eye Care Associates of St. Louis.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">Joel has a large base of computer customers. I'm convinced that some of them ask him to come over for the smallest things, just so they can spend time chatting with him. I have the privilege of leading the children's ministry at church. I'm so blessed to hear them recite their memory verses from the previous week. Joel leads worship once a month, and fills in teaching as necessary. I do important things like make copies of the church bulletin. Occasionally, our garage might catch on fire, or an exciting hail storm come total both our cars. But unless AAA is cutting us a check that week, our lives are happily ever routine.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">If everyone on the planet is still pregnant, I wouldn't be able to tell you. I don't notice, unless they are producing another lovely niece or nephew for me to love. In a few weeks, we are celebrating our 11th Anniversary by visiting the 11th person who will call us aunt and uncle. We will be aunt and uncle to 12 people by next year, continuing the tradition of having a niece or nephew every calendar year since 2004. (Christmas 2013 will prove whether or not they are "cheaper by the dozen".) Two years ago, I read a book about living childfree (versus the rather negative outlook of "childless"), which included the beautiful line, "All children deserve a childfree aunt or uncle." I love doing special things with our nieces and nephews. I love talking to them, seeing their accomplishments, and spending time with them! We still have vague plans to adopt... someday. We have not started any processes, filled out any papers, or made any decisions. We have a clean slate before us, and though we are fairly sure that adoption is in our future, we don't know the timing or the plans that the Lord has for us. We're enjoying our happy marriage and family of two, including the occasional fight over who will turn off the light at bedtime. We did, however, cave in and get a plant. It's an adopted plant from my work, and we've kept it alive since December. Now whenever anyone follows the question "Do you have any children?" with "Do you have any pets?", we are able to proudly tell them that we have a plant, therefore putting to rest their fears that we are villainously uncaring or grossly incapable of taking care of a living thing. We have a living plant and we remember to water it. We also go to the movies on the spur of the moment (when we're lucky enough to find a plant-sitter), take quiet road trips (animated cartoons keep our plant quiet in the backseat), and rely on alarm clocks to wake us up (so that we can go water the plant). Yes, we know what we're missing out on. Our timeline is different than the stereotypical American family, but our lives are just as meaningful.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">On August 4, 2001, when we stepped down off the stage of Calvary Chapel, as husband and wife, the song lyrics that played were, "I don't know what the future holds. It ain't clear where we go from here. One thing is true, God is in control. He is the keeper of my soul." The Lord doesn't give us movie-trailer type previews of coming years. We trust Him and He leads us and directs us to the path of His choosing. He has chosen such a perfect path for us, better than any we would have chosen for ourselves. We look forward to seeing where we go from here. It could be missions work. It could be parenting. It could be continuing to be a witness at our jobs. It could be full- or part-time ministry. It could be joining a circus as rodeo clowns. It's not up to us. It's up to Him. But there's nothing holding us back...</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">... because other than our car and our house, we are debt free. I set up the final payments through our online banking. Guess which day they go through to our creditors? July 27, 2012...</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><b>... the first day of the 2012 Summer Olympics.</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><b> </b> </span>Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-493187969500318957.post-36314809601676267842011-02-25T17:03:00.002-06:002011-02-25T17:25:07.096-06:00Healthy Living<span style="font-family: georgia;">Joel and I will both turn 30 this year. Seems time to get our act together. We have a plan in place to pay off all of our debt (except our house) by the end of this year. Getting to a good financial place is much like getting to a good physical place... you gotta cut back, choose wisely, and pay for past mistakes.<br /><br />We joined Weight Watchers the beginning of February. When I say "we", I mean that we both went to a meeting together, to hear the introduction. Joel has continued to follow the plan on his own, while I have continued going to the meeting. Several people from church had been talking about Weight Watchers. I've done it years ago with my family, so I know it's the tried-and-true thing that works. But what really made my decision is seeing someone I hadn't seen in two years, who had since lost 80 lbs with Weight Watchers. I was aware that she changed her lifestyle, but I hadn't yet seen her. When I did run into her, I was completely impressed. She looked like a different person! I asked her what her secret was, and she told me that she goes to the meetings every week, because it's a continuous recovery, like being an alcoholic. Seeing her spurred me on. I decided that I wanted to be that person who is barely recognizable to people they rarely see.<br /><br />For the first time in years, we have only healthy food in the house. No chips. No candy. No cookies. Only one emergency frozen pizza.<br /><br />It's so strange to hear Joel talking about "Points". And at the same time, it's so great, because when he makes dinner, he chooses healthy options, and lets me know how many Points our dinner is worth.<br /><br />We are both making good choices, and working together to pay off the debt we are in to our bodies. Joel has about 10 lbs more to pay off, and I have another 50 lbs. We're on our way. It's the same strategies to paying off debt... if I 'charge' more things (McDonald's, candy bars, etc), it's just that much longer til I can dig my way out.<br /><br />"Nothing tastes so good as being thin feels."<br /></span>Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-493187969500318957.post-48152145999171569642011-01-27T21:08:00.004-06:002013-09-09T23:56:55.534-05:00Goodbye, Home PhoneMy first home phone was in California, where I was born, and lived my first three years.<br />
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My second home phone was 428-0988. The first one that I memorized when I was a kid. I was three. Not only that, but I had to also memorize the 314 area code, in the event that I was kidnapped to another state. When we moved to a new house, my mom had them keep the same number, because I had already memorized it. For a few years, we answered our phone, "Hosanna Calvary Chapel", because it served as the church phone number.<br />
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My parents changed their number and the church number at the same time, in order to split the calls up properly. I was twelve when I memorized a second ten-digit number, my third home phone number, which is my parents number still.<br />
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My fourth number was probably the most exciting. Dad got a second line! Patrick and I had our own number! 314-428-4225. Okay, let's be realistic. I had my own number, which Patrick was allowed to use, and I had to be continuously reminded that it was his too. I was sixteen. We had just gotten the internet, which also shared the second line, and charged us by the minute. I also had to be continuously reminded to log offline when writing my lengthy emails to friends that I already saw twice a week. When we first got that number, we thought it was so hilarious, because we got lots of calls from the previous owner of the number: McDonald's. The number got further upgraded when Uncle Steve gave us his old answering machine. It had a full size cassette tape in it, and we could make catchy messages to our hearts' delight. My favorite phone was a clear plastic phone, with lights that flashed when it rang. The only thing that made it better was the day that Dad brought me home an unexpected present: a fifty-foot phone cord!! Now I could walk around the whole basement while on the phone!<br />
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Home phone number five was in Indianapolis. 317-823-0134? Joel and my first married number. I was twenty. Local phone only, and we continued to utilize calling cards for our many long distances calls to Missouri. We even had a phone on either side of our bed,... in our one room living space. One cordless (which died before the end of many long distance calls), so we also had the backup with a long cord. There were times Joel went to bed earlier, and I dragged the phone cord into the bathroom and sat there talking to my parents in Missouri or Lera in California.<br />
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I was twenty-one when I got my sixth home phone, as we moved to our condo in Maryland Heights. 314-739-9475. I always liked trying to find out if a phone number spelled something cool. Patrick and Tanya had a number that was ???-DOG-T, which rocked. Our condo number spelled SEX-WISK. Yeah, we didn't really publicize that.<br />
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October of 2005, we moved into our house. I was twenty-four. Home phone, number seven: 314-423-9066. It had a zero, which means you can't spell anything, but it was all ours. Part of our identity. It's what I spout off at checkout lines. It's what I fill into the blank right after "Address". It's who I am. It's stability. It's tradition. It's part of me.<br />
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Seven home phone numbers. Seven, the number of completion. Never would I have guessed that I'd turn thirty without having a home phone number. I won't be coming home to that little flashing red number, which denotes a call from an immediate family member, a telemarketer, a bill collector (in times past), or the occasional church friend. I will never again wonder, "Who did I get a message from?". Now my smarty-pants cell phone will tell me who called before I hear the message, taking away all the fun of the surprise. I would be upset that my kids will never memorize their home phone number, or be concerned that they will have to memorize two, both mine and Joel's. But c'mon, they will just program them into their own cell phones as soon as they blow out the two candles on their birthday cake.<br />
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One day, I will tell my grandchildren, as I recently told my nephew David, that people used to only be able to make calls from their home. David asked me, completely puzzled, "WHY could they only call from their HOME??", already knowing, at age five, the extreme inconvenience of this. But when I tell my grandchildren, perhaps they'll ask, "People had phones attached to their homes?". Then they'll look it up on the holographic version of wiki-future-pedia.<br />
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Goodbye, home phone. You are gone from the dresser top, but will not be forgotten in the cardboard box in the basement.<br />
<br />Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-493187969500318957.post-46815377350194612252010-06-06T17:58:00.003-05:002013-09-09T23:59:06.788-05:00"Nobody can go back and start a new beginning, but anyone can start today and make a new ending."Blog. It's been on my to do list. I have a half-finished, never-published draft of our second vacation last year, during which we went to Washington D.C. and Ocean City, MD. It's one of those perpetual back-burner things that I put off until an entire year has slipped by without me noticing it. Now, instead of looking back and seeing all the little nuances of the year that warranted a blog, the year seems like a big jumbled heap of days, all mushed together.<br />
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I feel as though much of life is a cookie cutter duplicate to last year. We work at the same companies. We live in the same place. We follow the same schedules. We eat the same food. We watch the same TV shows.<br />
But there are significant differences from last year.<br />
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In October, I began overseeing the Children's Ministry at church. It wasn't the amount of work that it could have been, but it certainly wasn't as easy as I had perceived. It took a full six months until I felt comfortable in my new church role. It was very clear to me that God had given me the responsibility not for the good of the church or the good of the children, but for my own personal good. He always provides exactly what we need.<br />
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December was a difficult month for both Joel and myself. I purchased a three-foot fake Christmas tree from Wal-mart, which felt like a devastating compromise. It wasn't a happy option, but we decided it was a reasonable middle ground between two depressing choices: having a real tree or having no tree at all. I still enjoyed the annual Christmas tree hunt with my family and took pictures of the three trophy trees that were headed towards houses. Our little fake tree fit our home perfectly.<br />
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Our Christmas plans got changed at the last minute due to snow storms across Missouri. We had planned to spend Christmas morning in Belton. Back in 2002, we drove through a snow storm to Belton for Christmas. On that trip, it took us two hours to drive Lake St. Louis, what would normally have been a 30-minute drive. My dad had begged us not to drive that year, and we drove anyways, and know now that it was a dangerous decision. We decided to learn from our mistakes and be responsible adults and change our plans. So we stayed in St. Louis on Christmas morning, and drove to Belton the following day.<br />
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In January, we regained control of our finances. We were already far removed from using credit cards, but were in a continuous cycle of falling behind on bills, causing late fees, which caused more bills to go unpaid. We finally jumped the hurdle of paying everything on time, and promptly set up a realistic budget. The first few months of following this budget were completely eye opening. Rather than buying whatever we wanted, and hoping there was enough money left for the bills, we were paying all of our bills first. (This approach seems so simple when we actually got around to trying it.) For the first few months, when I paid bills, I racked my brain to think of what I forgot to pay. I had to be missing some bills if there was money left over. When it occurred to me that this money (however little or much it was) could be used to pay extra on bills, it was quite liberating. We added up our debts and found that if we stick to our budget, we will be completely out of debt by January 2012. It may sound a long ways off, but it's the first time we've had an end date, which is completely exciting. When we arrive there, we will turn the page into the next chapter of our lives, debt-free and pursuing adoption.<br />
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In April, Joel's job changed. He moved from managing at the Westport Waterway, to heading up the new Waterway Detail Center. He and his boss traveled to Denver for a week to learn about detailing from their Denver counterparts. It was an extremely busy month, loaded with information, and packed with hours. Joel worked up to 70 hours a week during April, getting the Detail Center up and going. He's still working hard on marketing, but not so many hours. The last few weeks have been filled with calls to hundreds of customers, with thousands left to call. He is calling every Waterway Car Club Member, a time consuming task which is not Joel's favorite. Joel would go crazy if he had a desk job, thankfully Waterway keeps things interesting for him.<br />
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April was busy for me also: birthdays galore, housesitting, women's retreat, trips to Belton, organizing the Children's Ministry teacher schedule to allow for several weekends out of town. Through some varied circumstances, I learned a lot during April. I had the unpleasant experience of being very emotionally hurt by someone's opinions expressed to me. I believe that they intended to be motivating or encouraging, but that was not the result. God showed me that it didn't matter how uncaring and naive people are, I do not have to defend myself. God is my defender, and He doesn't need people to approve His plans. I also learned that I have become much stronger than I would have guessed. Such a situation would have devastated me in the past, but I was able to cast those cares on the Lord, and refocus on navigating through the valleys of life. I shouldn't have been surprised, because valleys are vulnerable to attacks. The stronger I am, the higher I can hold my shield of faith to fend off attacks. On the opposite side of the spectrum, some words spoken to me at the women's retreat continue to resonate encouragement in my life and remind me that the Lord knows what I'm going through.<br />
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In current events, I am changing positions at work, leaving the front desk, and moving out onto the floor. Tomorrow, I start training for "pretester" (optometric technician, the person who does the puff test on your eyes before you see the eye doctor). Once conquered, I will continue on to train for optician. I'd like to think that I'm slightly ahead of the game, due to learning by immersion, but I'm surely going to be surprised by the amount of information I have yet to master. I have an equal mix of excitement and nervousness.<br />
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The best new thing is that Joel and I have joined our nation, in that our new pastime is baseball. We have been to three St. Louis Cardinals games. At the second game, we both set a new record for how many games we'd been to in one season. We are going to our fourth game next week. We had even talked about spontaneously going to the game tonight, but Joel had a quick work commitment that prevented us from it. We are even subscribing to mlb.com, so that we can watch Major League Baseball games from our computer (Joel has it streaming to our TV in the living room). We know the players names, we look up any rules we're unfamiliar with, we cheer from the stadium and our living room. In short, we have become fans.<br />
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We are loving our Sundays together. It had been a long time since we had a consistent day off together. Now we ride to church in one car. We go out to lunch. We go swimming. And we watch baseball. Life is good.<br />
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<br />Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-493187969500318957.post-73300780620967941152009-06-19T19:47:00.011-05:002013-09-10T00:19:53.195-05:00Michigan Vacation"A vacation is having nothing to do and all day to do it in."<br />
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Michigan Vacation, Part 1: Grand Haven </div>
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I am all about internet vacation planning. I love picking a town, finding out what's there, and checking the mileage with Google Maps. I try to stay away from the B&B sites, because it takes hours to get out of that trap. I am positive that I spent more time looking at websites for Grand Haven than the time we actually spent there.</div>
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We left on Sunday afternoon, and drove about seven hours north of St. Louis, to Grand Haven. Our hope was to get there in time for the 10:00pm performance at The World's Biggest Musical Fountain. We've been to Las Vegas, and I remember being impressed with the fountain there, so we didn't want to miss this point of interest. We got there early enough to check in at the Best Western which I had cell-phone-booked during our drive (thoroughly researched on the internet). We asked the girl working at the counter what she thought of the fountain. In the most monotone voice you can imagine, she replied, "It's the world's largest musical fountain." Aha, a local. However, turns out that she wasn't so far off... it was kind of lame. Apparently, the Grand Haven crowd is more easily impressed than the Vegas crowd. Though there were plenty of families there, we got the feeling that it was a prime spot for pre-teen dating.<br />
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So we headed back to our hotel. It was a decently big hotel, but our room was in a secondary building, around back, with a thin row of parking spots between the hotel and an old set of railroad tracks. The hotel was clearly pretty empty, and we were clearly as far from the lobby as we could get, yet the only room touching ours... yes, booked with people listening to their loud TV. After the not-so-immense excitement of the fountain, we were pretty hungry, so we went out and found an Applebee's. Mmm! When we pulled back into the parking spot in front of our room, it was closing in on midnight. Our headlights shone on our hotel room door, where there was one shiny child's handprint, which disappeared when the headlights turned off. Between that and the deserted old train tracks, I told Joel he better unlock the door super fast, lest I be entirely creeped out. Fortunately, the creepiness was soothed by many television stations.</div>
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We woke up on the early side and Joel grabbed us some hotel breakfast before we headed to the beach. According to the internet, Grand Haven has the best beach in Michigan. The picture shows the beach covered with people laying out. We had the place to ourselves on Monday morning, because it was rainy and windy. We braved the unhelpful weather and walked along the beach to the lighthouse. It was COLD!! We loved the waves, and said that if we ever got a few days off together during the summer, we should make the drive and sit by what has to be the closest beach to St. Louis that has waves. </div>
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Michigan Vacation, Part 2: Belding</div>
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Ever since I heard of the town, I've wanted to go to Belding, Michigan. Joel's aunts and some of their cousins went for the first time last year, after living all their lives just a few hours away. And JB has never been there! We felt like cheesy tourists as we drove around town, taking pictures of everything that said "Belding" on it, but how many people get to go somewhere with their last name? We sent postcards to friends and family, and wrote to the VanDalens, "Good luck finding a town with your last name".<br />
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Belding is now a small town, with a friendly atmosphere, and people who are genuinely interested in your last name and willing to tell you more than you care to know about the town. It was once the silk capitol of the world. Two Belding brothers began silk mills. Ladies would come from all around to work there and stay in boarding houses. One of the mills is now loft apartments which rent for $500/month. </div>
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When we left Grand Haven that morning, we passed a Jimmy John's, and I wanted us to stop and get sandwiches for a later lunch. Joel refused, saying he wanted to eat at something like "Mr. Belding's Restaurant". I made fun of him, saying there wasn't going to be anything like that. As we were talking to our new friends outside of Belding City Hall, they recommended that we go eat lunch across the street at "The Belding Bros. Cafe". We were so surprised! There wasn't even a sign for it, that's how small of a town it is. When we walked in, the guy working there (who's name was Pete, same as Joel's grandpa), told us it was closest compared to Panera Bread. They served soups and sandwiches and specialty coffees, but the food was amazing and the place was incredible! They have tables and couches and a pool table, and it's all Christian owned, with a verses about fellowshipping and 'doing all things decently and in order' on the menu! It was definitely on par with The Overflowing Cup in Murrieta, CA. We loved it! And Joel loved being right about eating at a restaurant named Belding. Along with the old time pictures of Belding that were on all the walls, they also had some remaining Belding silk thread on display.<br />
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Michigan Vacation, Part 3: Port Austin</div>
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Now it was time to meet up with the Belding/Vandevelde party at Aunt Beth's place. Joel's Aunt Beth and Uncle Gary own The Sun N Sand Motel across the street from Lake Huron. It's really comfortable and relaxing there.<br />
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We arrived there the day before Beth's birthday. Months ago, I had mentioned to Joel that we should get her a gift for letting us stay there, and that he should keep his eye open for anything unusual. His Aunt Beth has the best sense of humor, and nothing less than a unique gift would do. I found the perfect gift when I was in Kimmswick on my birthday. I was in an antique store, and the second I saw this, I knew I had to get it for Aunt Beth. It's a bronze paperweight, in the shape of a banana, that says "Top Banana" on it. Does it get more random? After opening it, and laughing lots, Beth said, "It puts a _______ on my face!"<br />
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Beth and Gary had us over for dinner a couple times. One night, Beth served us the most delicious blueberry pie imaginable. It was so tasty! However, little Stephanie was interested in her own version of tasty. We were all sitting around chatting one evening, and Melanie and Stephanie were playing nicely around their house, with Melanie showing off all the seashells she had "picked" at the beach, when we noticed that Stephanie was crunching on something. There were plenty of snacks around, so we couldn't be for sure, but the only thing within her reach was the paper bowl of seashells sitting in front of her!! </div>
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Melanie adored the beach! She was in her element, finding tiny collectible things. When they had stayed at our house on their way to Michigan, Melanie had shown me her plastic cassette tape case she had brought with her, that was full of roly poly bugs. At first glance, I thought they were dead ones, because just previous to this, she had shown me her plastic baggie full of cicada exoskeletons that she had been collecting off trees. But when I said something about them being dead, she shook the case and showed me that no, they were indeed crawling around. I told her, "Please DO NOT OPEN that in my house." Becky hadn't known she brought them, and they made her dump them out outside. She is the ultimate outdoors girl, certainly inherited from her grandpa. JB and Joel took her out to the beach everyday to look for shells. Aunt Beth walks the beach every morning, looking for treasures, and comes up with some amazing finds!<br />
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JB and Joel went out fishing with JB's friend Tom, who he's known since grade school. Melanie was very upset that they were going without her, but we did fun girl things, like shopping and eating out. Becky and I joked that Anne was our tour guide, since she's been to Port Austin so many times with JB, and found things to do while he was out fishing. She knew all the best places to go, but Becky was our source for directions. We looked up our directions on "Beckyquest". Tom took the guys out on his boat a couple days and they also fished at a river. They caught some big fish, but only kept them for photo shoots.<br />
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We went to go see Joel's Grandpa Pete most mornings. He lives in a nursing home because his knees are so bad that he can't put weight on them anymore. It was interesting to visit him, because although he has all his mental capacity, he is currently staying in the pysch ward. Apparently, his previous roommate was annoying him so much that he requested to be moved, and that was the only place they had for him. After seeing his current roommate, I was surprised that it was a change for the better, because this one mumbles to himself and motions to no one saying, "I'm going to kill you!" One afternoon, we all went outside to enjoy the beautiful weather in the courtyard. (While St. Louis was having the first heat wave of 90 degrees, we were bringing our jackets with us for the 60 degree weather there.) Melanie enjoyed sneaking a live worm into her pocket, to be found later all nasty and squished. All the nurses there love Joel's grandpa! He jokes around with them, and pretends to shoot them. One nurse is such a great guy, he came and talked to us for awhile, and recounted how he and Pete skipped out on the Christmas party that Pete didn't want to go to, and instead he took him driving around to look for deer. And another nurse was getting married in a few weeks, and wanted Pete to be there, so this same guy was going to come pick him up and take him. When the nurses were getting him settled after coming back inside, one was putting a pillow under his head and asked him to pick his 'head up', to which he replied, "Don't you tell me to shut up!", even though he understood perfectly.<br />
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Saturday morning, we got up and went to the Port Austin Farmer's Market. I expected fruits and veggies, which they apparently do have later in the season. I wasn't expecting an awesome flea market! They had everything from baked goods to souvenirs to garage sale items to $1 cinnamon rolls (Joel went back for seconds). One vendor had a tree with sunglasses on it. Little Stephanie went up to these flamingo glasses, kissed them and put them back. The man gave them to her. Moments later, someone tried to buy some, and he told them they were only for sale as part of this decorated tree.<br />
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Saturday night was the reason for the trip: Joel's cousin Abby's graduation party. Beth and Gary put on a massive party for her, with a taco bar and homemade creme puffs. Abby had wanted a party with a taco bar ever since grade school, and finally got one. The ladies who catered it made every possible Mexican food. There were the basic taco fixings, then sizzling fajitas, a Mexican soup, salsa and guacamole, plus fruit kabobs and SO many desserts. Did I mention the homemade creme puffs? It was amazing! JB was in his family element, catching up with everyone and talking to old friends. Abby the graduate (also referred to by Anne as "Beth's son Teresa") is third from the left in this family picture.<br />
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It was a very relaxing vacation! We had a great time hanging out with JB, Anne, Becky, and the nieces. We love Michigan!! Some of Abby's relatives on the other side (who were also staying at The Sun N Sand Motel, of course) said, "See you when she gets married!"</div>
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Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-493187969500318957.post-65503965986188613252009-05-28T00:24:00.008-05:002013-09-09T23:57:39.307-05:00Praiseworthy ThingsAs with many things in my life, my motivation comes from my Dad. I have to give him that one more website to check everyday. Otherwise, I will become some moral of a story titled, "The Girl Who Cried Blog". Thanks for reminding me, Dad!<br />
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I went to the Wednesday evening service at church tonight. The message was on Philippians 4, and blogging is the perfect way to put this verse to practical use:</div>
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"Finally, brethren, whatever things are true, whatever things are noble, whatever things are just, whatever things are pure, whatever things are lovely, whatever things are of good report, if there is any virtue and if there is anything praiseworthy -- meditate on these things." -- Philippians 4:8</div>
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TRUE...</div>
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Joel and I went out golfing for the first time. Joel has been playing for years, and I didn't completely stink. We played a scramble, and half the time my tee off was as good or better than his. But after that, he had to save our game.<br />
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NOBLE...</div>
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Working hard at Waterway, Joel always makes time to say hi to me when I stop by. Even when they are swamped, he says to go ahead and get my car washed. Currently, there are some birds that have been pooping all over our cars and our front porch. There's nothing overhead for them to land on and poop, so they actually stand on our cars and poop. Right now, they have a nest full of babies in our cherry tree, and they make time to poop on their way there and back. That nest might not last very long.<br />
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Joel and I on Resurrection Sunday, celebrating the combination of God's justice and grace.<br />
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I had a wonderful birthday weekend, but after all the food I ate, I don't know that I could call it "pure". We had birthday tacos and cupcakes at Mom's house, to celebrate Patrick's birthday and my birthday. The next morning, Tanya made a breakfast that put IHOP to shame. Lunch was at The Blue Owl with girlfriends. Our favorite restaurant, Las Palmas was a delicious dinner. It was so good that I also went there again for lunch after church the next day. You know a restaurant is your favorite when you will go there for consecutive meals and order the same thing.<br />
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LOVELY...<br />
We went to Belton for Mother's Day weekend. It was so relaxing to spend two nights there instead of our usual 20-hour-turn-around trip. Joel's grandparents were in town from Arizona and our littlest niece Natalie liked snuggling with them. We went to Stephanie's 2nd birthday party, even though it seems that she should still be the newborn. We were back in St. Louis for an evening with my family. It's probably the first time we've gotten to see BOTH our moms on Mother's Day!<br />
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GOOD REPORT...</div>
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The Annual Church Picnic was this past Sunday.<br />
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The smorgasboard of food is always of good report. Everyone had a great time, and the day was full of surprise finds. Many of the kids and guys were surprised at how cold the park water feels when it's dumped down the back of your clothes or over your head.<br />
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Garrett and Patrick climbed the tree to try to get the frisbee down, but surprisingly, it was Kwasi, standing on the ground, who was able to knock it down with another frisbee.<br />
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James lost his little orange alligator in the volleyball sand pit, and while Dad and I and others dug around for it, James continued to insist that only Uncle Steve could find it. We were surprised when he walked off to find Steve, and everyone was surprised when Steve came over and found it immediately. Well, everyone but James... who knew it all along.<br />
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I always think of the church picnic as the kick off to summer. It's the first outdoor event, preempting even Memorial Day barbeques. By next week, our summer will be in full swing, as we travel to Michigan with Joel's fam for a relaxing week by Lake Huron. While I have so much to do to get ready, I will do my best to be "anxious for nothing".</div>
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Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-493187969500318957.post-89263729235736386702009-03-08T17:59:00.005-05:002013-09-09T23:35:57.343-05:00The IntruderIt's never a pleasant thought to imagine anyone but yourselves in your home. I want to feel safe in my home. I want to relax without being on the lookout for my worst fear. And I don't want to be alone at home when it happens. But Joel was at work today when I found the intruder crawling across the bathroom floor.<br />
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People may make fun of my many flip flops, but you don't know how reliable and trustworthy they are until they are put to the test. Today, it was a pink flip flop that saved me.<br />
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The good news: I killed one cockroach. The bad news: There's never just ONE cockroach.<br />
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Three seemingly small issues have just combined into a nightmare situation. Issue number one: We only do dishes every few days. Issue number two: Our bathroom sink leaks just a little. Issue number three: For the past year, we've always had a couple ants in our bathtub. No matter how many we kill, they won't go away, and I had finally settled on coexisting with them. Like a door-to-door cult, always coming in pairs, but never in crowds, we had agreed to disagree with them. They thought the bathtub was theirs, we thought it was ours. When it was their turn, they could explore the porcelain. When it was our turn, they died in a torrential downpour followed by a whirlpool. We could've continued on for quite some time under this alliance, but now they have betrayed us. We let our guard down. We became complacent.<br />
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Three seemingly small situations welcome cockroaches. One: Dirty Dishes. Two: Damp, dark areas. Three: Dead bugs (ants). But there are two more important factors that do not welcome cockroaches: Joel and Jean.<br />
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The war starts now. We are going to launch an Israeli preemptive strike. The sword of the Lord and the Bug Spray of Beldings!<br />
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Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-493187969500318957.post-72471268122663799292009-02-25T22:27:00.009-06:002013-09-09T23:34:58.172-05:00The Price is RightPresidential Campaign: $650,000,000,000<br />
Inauguration Day: $125.000,000,000<br />
Economic Stimulus Package: $800,000,000,000 to $900,000,000,000<br />
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There are some things money can't buy.<br />
For everything else, there's our government.<br />
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Here are some of the priceless things we enjoy:<br />
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Jean, Joel, James, and David on Christmas<br />
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Our niece, Katelyn Joy, born 12/29/2008<br />
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Melanie and Uncle Joel, on New Years Day<br />
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Our niece, Abigail Grace, born 2/20/2009<br />
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If wealth could be measured in nieces and nephews, we would be the richest people in town. Our stock has gone up considerably in the last few months. Little Katelyn was as speedy delivery, maybe because she knew she'd always be hurrying after her brothers. Little Abigail was born after taking her sweet time, maybe because she enjoyed having everyone wait for her. Our next niece is arriving on April 3. We will be making the trek to Kansas City to see her, bearing gifts. <br />
Sometimes life is hectic and crazy. It is not unusual for us to be eating dinner at 11pm in front of the television. Ah, I remember back in the good ol' days, when Joel and I would see each other every day. Yesterday, I left for work before he got up. In the evening, he went to a hockey game with other managers and the owner (apparently Waterway has awesome box seats). Today, Joel left for work before I got up. He came home for a nap break while I was having a crazy day at the workplace, which made me stay late, so that my home time didn't overlap with his. Now he's back at the ol' car wash doing inventory until the wee hours of the morning. Tomorrow, when he's off work, I'll be working my longest day of the week. Friday's coming! And we're both off!<br />
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On Monday night, we went late night grocery shopping (almost as romantic as my parent's Home Depot dates). We bought about three weeks worth of food. This is an experiment. We are trying to determine whether or not it saves us money to stockpile versus going to the store every few days. However, having everything makes it just as hard to choose a snack as when we have nothing, it's just deciding rather than foraging. <br />
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After putting away all the food, I expressed my concern to Joel, that I hoped the amount of food wouldn't cause the floor of the pantry to give out and cause all our food to go crashing into the basement. It was believable to me after my bad food day. I had gone to Sam's Club prior to the grocery store. I had loaded up on cereals, granola bars, chocolate chips, frozen chicken, all the essentials. It came up to $112, but it was all things I had planned to buy at the grocery store anyhow. After I loaded everything onto the conveyor belt, I realized that I didn't have my debit card. So after everything was rung up, I subtracted things off in shame, until I was left with whatever my $34 cash could buy. As I pulled onto the highway to drive home, I realized I could've just paid for everything with a check. I forgot that checks could buy things.<br />
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There are some things money can't buy, and they're called nieces and nephews.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-493187969500318957.post-55912740785203436982009-01-22T20:22:00.003-06:002009-01-22T21:16:28.714-06:00His Mercies Are New Every Morning"Welcome, child," he said.<br />"Aslan," said Lucy, "you're bigger."<br />"That is because you are older, little one," answered he.<br />"Not because you are?"<br />"I am not. But every year you grow, you will find me bigger."<br /><br />It's always nice to round the bend into a new year. We remember the previous year and make plans for the year to come. Joel and I are optimistic about the coming year. Last year wasn't our all-time favorite, which may or may not be because we are getting old. Unlike our three-year-old nephew David, who spent an entire day looking forward to the animal crackers that I promised to bring him in the evening, things just don't seem as exciting to us as they used to be. It doesn't seem like that long ago that there was something to look forward to every week, and there was always a weekend activity or trip to look forward to. Weekends... I only vaguely remember them.<br /><br />We have some fun things to look forward to this summer. We're going to Michigan to visit Joel's extended family for a week in May or June. Then, in August, we're taking an anniversary trip to Washington D.C., then visiting our friends Jared and Steph in Maryland, and going with them to Ocean City where we will enjoy the beach and I will visit the Atlantic Ocean for the first time. We hope to make a small drive to Delaware for dinner one night, thereby adding another state to our "Been There Done That" list.<br /><br />Where has the time gone? I was marking birthdays and anniversaries into my new planner (a list that has grown extensively longer over the last few years), and was shocked to mark our siblings' anniversaries. Becky and Mark will be married seven years and Patrick and Tanya will be married five. Eileen and Steve's two years should be where everyone's at. But our anniversary trip celebrates the completion of eight years!<br /><br />Our anniversary vacations are always the highlight of the year. Last year, on our anniversary, as we floated around the pool, at a Bed and Breakfast, in the 100 degree heat (it will always be the hottest day of the year), we were so peaceful. The best part is just being off work at the same time, which happens so infrequently. Last year, I'd be surprised if there were as many as twenty days that Joel and I were off work on the same day. So far this year, we haven't spent a day together. Next potential day off together: February 27.<br /><br />Sometimes, when we are eating our dinner in front of a TV show at 11:00pm, we realize that we have just worked our lives away for that 30 minutes. We just washed cars and made files and directed traffic (that one applies to both of us), to pay for our house, where we come only when it's time to sleep.<br /><br />It has been a rough year. Joel and I have seen each other so little, our jobs have been difficult, but in spite of the busyness and the debt and the everyday struggles that we all encounter, the best part of life is finding contentment by knowing Jesus. Contentment is often misunderstood to be achievement or happiness. True contentment is saying, "It's enough." Regardless of my thoughts or my will or my goals, it's recognizing that Jesus has given me everything I need for life and godliness. Joel and I have a wonderful marriage. We both have good jobs, where we enjoy what we do, we're appreciated, and we are able to be a model of Christianity to those around us. We have a comfortable home that's warm in the winter and cool in the summer. We have families we love and who love us. We have good friends. God speaks to us. We continue to prayfully make plans for the future. And when it doesn't seem like enough, I remember that contentment means praying, "You know best. You've given me so much. You've saved me and You know me. And if you never give me another thing, it's enough."<br /><br />Beyond all other goals, the ultimate New Years resolution should simply be to grow. So that every year, we will find Him bigger.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com0