Too Intense for Me

 

Perhaps these people need to get more intense about their spelling skills.

I've discovered something about myself the past few weeks. I know that this is going to be shocking to some of you, but I'm not intense enough as a human being. I know, I know, there are people falling out of their computer chairs all over the state, but it's true. I'm not intense enough.

I went to that pageant last weekend, where I assure you, everyone was more intense than I was. Then, last night, I took the Bonus Child to her cheer competition center for practice, and again, EVERYONE was more intense than I was. There were people in the room--more than one family--who drove two hours one way for their child to train with So-n-So, the Yoda Jedi Master of All Things Cheer.  Two hours in the car ONE WAY for CHEER practice. THREE TO FOUR TIMES A WEEK. That kind of intense.

(I'm thinking to myself, who are these people, and how can I learn to identify them from a distance so that I don't accidentally sit by them anymore?)

Everyone who knows me for more than five seconds knows that I adore my children. I'm on the outskirts flirting with worshiping them, but I'm also a complete realist about my babies. They are talented. Smart. Funny. Precocious. Clever. Witty. Bright. Beautiful. Handsome. And I could go on and on about their brilliance. But I hold one truth dear in my heart--they are only viewed this way by me, their father, and God. This viewpoint is completely and totally based on one thing--how much I love them.



The Number One Son--football star.



They are goofy. Make ten stupid decisions daily, each. Are silly, stubborn, argumentative, difficult, crazy, loud, and smack when they chew. They forget to say 'yes ma'am' on a daily. They fight, yell, run, and sometimes don't listen. They back talk. They whine. They argue. (Sometimes even with me.) They are selfish and complicated. I completely believe that they will lie, steal, cheat, and backbite if we don't stay on them consistently, not to mention constantly. It's just the truth. Your precious angel is no different, My Friend. Perhaps you just fail to recognize it and/or admit it. The deal is that you LOVE them more than you SEE them as what they are. Thank God that He does the same thing for me! He loves me for more than just what He sees in me on the surface.

So, here's the deal. These parents in that cheer-viewing aquarium who drove two hours (each way four times a week) were having an obsessive compulsive sort of conversation while analyzing the minutia of their 14-yr-old daughter's back handsprings. I kid you not. I looked out there on the floor, trying to spot Nadia Comaneci, only to see an average height, average build, average looking white girl with brown hair. She was cute as a button, but just sort of...well, average. I could have mistaken her for either Wonder Twin from the back. And her back handspring was, okay, I'll say it, Average. She  bobbled. She righted herself. She went on to the next station. Big whoop. Then the Parental Units had an extended conversation about how little Suzie needed to work on her form, her stance, her confidence, her lift off, her extension, her arm strength.

Okay, I'm a big girl. I have no trouble at all with this. It didn't just happen to me, I was this size when The Husband married me, and I'm all good with that. But these two parents next to me were...were...in need of a full-length mirror and a Moment of Serious Life Evaluation. They were HUGE. And the woman was drinking an extra large milk shake. Like 40 ounces of milk shake. I'm sitting there listening to them down grade their child's accomplishment (I'd like to see some of you try a back handspring from a dead stand still without a bobble), and they both clearly needed to do something as simple as take a walk and eat a salad or just back away from the gargantuan shake. Hello?

Then they went on to chew on their child's splits because she wasn't all the way to the floor (missing by oh, I don't know, a millimeter). Um..ma'am? You can't get out of that chair without pushing with both arms and huffing a little, and you're worried about your child being a paper's width from having her tail on the mat? Hello? HELLO!??? IS ANYONE HOME?????

If you are living vicariously through your children, you should at least make some sort of attempt to join them in their endeavours. I couldn't discuss my child's activity level if I also didn't walk and do aerobics. I couldn't encourage them to try new foods if I turned my nose up at everything offered to me. I would feel like the worst possible kind of role model and example. The very definition of hypocrite. We need a serious priority check in this culture. This is sort of brutal and direct, but perhaps you need to work on you instead of living through your children.

Oh, and Shorties? I'm not ever, for any reason, driving you two hours each way four times a week so that you can practice anything temporal. Ever. Because, quite frankly, I'm all good with you being average, so long as you excel in the things that matter; the things that last.


The Fasionista about to put one over the net.



Galatians 5:22-26 But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. Against such things there is no law.  Those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires. Since we live by the Spirit, let us keep in step with the Spirit. Let us not become conceited, provoking and envying each other.

I'm not sure that God is all that concerned with your back handspring or your coverage of third base or how you hustle that ball into the end zone. (Perhaps we ought to keep that in mind when we berate our children for their inadequacies.) Before the Sports People have an aneurysm-sized freak out, I'm all about sports. My girls are on the volleyball team, cheer, and play basketball. My son plays every kind of game with a ball that he is eligible for. We are enrolled in piano and art classes. We are McWane Science Center and Zoo and Children's Theater membership people. We go and do every single day of the week on this activity or that activity, because I think those things have amazing, powerful life lessons attached to them.

Wonder Twins on the Spirit Squad

But this is the question we ask ourselves before every single thing we put our children into:

What lasting things are my children learning in sports and activities, and do they reflect what God would have for their life purpose? Am I putting the things of the world before my service to the Lord? Am I modeling what I would have my babies learn and live, or am I living vicariously through my children instead of doing it for myself? Okay, so maybe I'm intense enough. Perhaps we're just on opposing teams. :-)



The Beauty Pageant Manifesto

Well, I had one of the most interesting experiences of my life today. I drove two hours each way in support of our county's Mrs. Senior Representative as she participated in the state-level beauty competition. She's such a cool lady. She said that she wanted to do it because she was finally old enough and just wanted to try it. It's a beauty pageant for the over 65 set, and it was something to see, Folks.

Now, I'll go out here on a very tiny, rickety limb and admit that I'm not a pageant person. Okay, it's worse than that--I'm an anti-pageant person. I hate them. They are completely ridiculous. Your daughter is NOT the prettiest one. She WASN'T robbed. And I can absolutely guarantee her loss wasn't political. She's just an average kid wearing too much make up with a hairdo that belongs on Dolly Parton who did a terribly cute, if a little precocious, version of that Judy Garland song that all pageant people seem to know. We thought it was cute after the Thanksgiving turkey; we didn't think it belonged on a stage under lights. And before the pageant people go nuts, don't think I'm prejudiced about the girls. I feel the same way about people who are too bent out about sports. Seriously, it's a ball. Get over it. Your kid probably isn't getting a scholarship or going pro. He's just a kid who hits the ball pretty good. Whoopie for you. You are confusing my politeness with interest. (Snarky but true.)

With all of that out there in the open, it goes almost without saying, but Our Girl was robbed. She was gorgeous, poised, talented, and clearly the winner. (I'm not even related to her, and it was obvious to me.) She beat the fire out of that piano, wore an elegant dress (her legs were spectacular), and she was well spoken. She did our county so very proud. I was glad to know her in that moment.

Now, to be fair, the woman who won today completely deserved it--she tap danced for four minutes straight. Just the endurance alone was worth a win (remember, these are women over 65 years old). And she looked marvelous too. It's just...well, the entire process is just so subjective. I mean how someone wins or loses is in the eyes of some judges. Who is fit to judge my daughters and deem them worthy or not? Certainly not other humans...(and this is why I call it ridiculous).

Here is some random, meaningless commentary from someone with absolutely no pageant experience--just some things to note in case you are ever considering a run for the crown:

1)  For your talent, never, ever, ever put on Halloween angel wings borrowed from your granddaughter and piece together a dance routine while quoting random unrelated Scripture over a Kenny G song. There are not enough margaritas in the world to excuse this behavior. You couldn't have been that drunk.

2)  I can now die in peace having seen a 70-year-old woman do the splits. I mean the full splits. In a leotard.

3)  70-year-old women should never, ever wear leotards. (Or sleeveless gowns.)

4)  Flashdance is a questionable music selection if you're 18. If you're 71, you might need to adjust your meds.

5)  I'm so glad I know how to post to YouTube from my phone.

6)  I'm not sure that apricot antebellum ball gown was the most appropriate choice for the African American candidate. Her stylist is so fired.

7)  When that woman's microphone went out while she was murdering a completely innocent song, I was praising God. Then they let her have a do-over because of the equipment malfunction, which was God clearly mocking me. Josh Grobin had a brain freeze somewhere in the world, thinking that a rabbit ran over his grave. No, it was someone killing his song. Twice.

8)  I still hate beauty pageants.

9) But I had the best time this afternoon! I hope I get invited again next year!

10) And I better get started right now if I'm going to be in any kind of shape to compete in that thing in 20 years. Seriously.

Disney: The Johnson Experience

We took the crew to Disney again this year. We go every two years. There was this guy named Brady I worked with who took his family like that, and I distinctly remember making fun of him. What are you doing? Don't you know that there are other places to go? I take all of that back. It's our favorite. I figure we've got two or three times before the kids "outgrow" it, and I'm going to take them back as many times as they'll go. It's our favorite. So, now you've seen and heard all of our traditional photos and stories, I'd like to share some of my favorite moments from this trip.

This year we went with the Littletons and Brookers--together they still don't have as many Johnsons as are in our crew. This is our first official Disney photo upon arrival.

One of my favorite things to do is to take the "posed" photo and then keep on snapping afterwards. You'll see that it works--you get the most interesting photographs when the kids think that the moment is finished. This is on the bus on the way to Epcot--our first stop. The Wonder Twins did a nice pose, then Elaina shoved part of a Poptart into her mouth and saw me about to take a photo. She's trying to tell me "no" while her sister laughs at her. Priceless.

 



Most excellent photo ever--this is the swankiest hotel at Disney by far. We went there for a princess character meal. Right before us, this magazine gorgeous blonde family wearing khakis and white shirts went before us. Everyone was tan, matching, magnificent. Like model perfect. Right behind them, we stood in the same spot. When I went to take the photo everyone struck a pose and Elise said, "Because we're Johnsons!" Awesome.

The kids tell us that The Husband and I never take silly photos. Look at Elaina's hands behind my  head--this was the theme of all our photographs this year--the Photo Bomb. In almost every shot of Johnsons, you've got other Johnsons in the background being, well, Johnsons. 

Another brilliant Photo bomb by the Number One Son



Maybe the only serious family photo we took on the entire trip.

 

Loved, loved this photo of Elise holding Lillian's hand into the 4D show It's a Bug's Life. The Little Flower was scared, so her big sister helped her into the deal. 



This trip happened to fall during Noah Brooker's b'day. Lillian's was earlier in the month, but if you think that was going to keep her from getting a free cupcake, you've got some serious catching up to do on what it means to be a Johnson.





Does this really need a caption?



Lilly was obsessed with "Mickey's Power Show" this trip. We had to buy the doll, take photos everytime he had the hat, etc.



Our ancestors would be so proud.

 

Love it!





What is remarkable about this photo isn't the girls, look at their clothing and accessories. Who says you can't tell twins apart? lol

 

Perfect Photo bomb. People in the front have no clue.

 All in all, one of our best trips yet. We ate, we rode, we traded pins, we fought, we saw, we laughed, we were rained on, we threw up...We are Johnsons!

God Answers Prayer--even the little ones

I didn't fall off the face of the earth in May, well maybe sort of...I had high school graduation and final exams on a Friday night, then we rolled out of here for Disney World for 8 days the next morning. (Nothing like stacking big events right on top of each other.) I should learn some moderation. (snort)

This blog entry will need some sort of a preface. I worked outside of the home for fourteen years. I drove over an hour each way commuting from home to work; I worked by myself in an office that was isolated and had minimal contact with coworkers. Because I was so far away from home, I missed most of my kids' major events like field day, awards day, grandparent's day, etc. I missed every summer. I worked while they went and did as a family either with their grandmother or father or with trusted friends and family. It was good, but it was equally bad. We ate tons of convenience foods, Daddy did all of the Mommy stuff, and we saw each other for a whopping two hours every evening provided there wasn't church, basketball, piano, etc.

I was caught up in a lay off from my job two years ago. At the time, I was devastated. What will I do? How will we eat? Since my husband is in full time ministry, I made close to the same income that he did. It was a huge financial hit for our family. We decided that we'd take the entire summer off and not worry, just be happy. (Thank you to Dave Ramsey and his Emergency Fund advice.) With all of that said, being laid off from my job was the best thing that ever happened to me. I was given this amazing opportunity to own a travel agency. (I can't thank my friend Sonja enough for what she did for me.) I work from home, get to be with the shorties full time, and our overall quality of life improved dramatically, even though our income went down.

I then had the opportunity to teach high school English where my kids attend school. The teacher who was in the position just became burned out, so I took over last October 2010 sort of as an emergency fill in. I'm not exaggerating when I say that it's the best job I've ever had. I can't wait to get up in the morning and get to school. I adore the kids. I love the work. I can't believe that God trusts me enough to let me teach. What a miracle! They're bringing me back next year. The funniest part to me is that with the two jobs combined, I made exactly what I did before. No commute. I never miss a kid's school event. I'm home during all of the hours they are. We ride in together and home together. I eat lunch with The Little Flower. I'm there for every program, play, luncheon. I'm in school the exact dates they are. It couldn't be any better.

We're preparing for a busy, but relaxing summer this year. We'll have summer camp for the Shorties, Vacation Bible School, and lots of lazy afternoons by the pool. The Best, Jerry, the Best! (Obscure TV sitcom reference.) The reason that I love summer so much is that I finally get to exercise some homemaking skills (limited as they are).

I get to cook almost daily and manage my own household. I get to go through closets and re-organize everything (aka "relaxation therapy"). I get to watch movies at night, read as much as I want, and sleep until 9:00 every day (understanding that we are up until 11:00 almost every night all summer). I can't imagine how I worked all of those years full time without being a homemaker. Don't get me wrong, I loved working, but this is fulfilling in a way that can't even be compared to my "career".

Today, for example, I've had a cup of coffee, done my prayer and devotional quiet time, and am now writing. I'm going to check in on about 12 client travel plans, follow up with some Disney people, and do several new quotes (the only thing better than going to Disney, is helping other people go to Disney). Then I'm going to sweep out the storage unit, do my Wii aerobics, then take the kids for a swim. We're watching movies tonight for a Girl's Night, since the boys are going camping. I'm making homemade Spanish rice and burritos for supper. There's no rushing, no crazy, no deadlines, no panic, no stress, no traffic, nothing at all to spoil the buzz of just being "Mom". And guess what? If I don't clean the storage unit or do the aerobics, it'll still be there tomorrow.

God has blessed me far, far beyond anything that I would have imagined for myself. He replaced my income, gave me the desire of my heart, all in ways I never dreamed. I'm fulfilled in my work, happy as mother and wife, content in all things. When I faced uncertainty, He told me to trust Him more. What is it in your life that you are worried over? I challenge you to give it up to Him and see what He does with it. I'm a walking, talking, breathing testimony to the power of God to hear and answer. To quote Sheryl Crow (who was taking the thought from the apostle Paul), "It's not having what you want; it's wanting what you've got." Rock on.

Books! Books! Books!

I've discovered some of my favorite authors on complete accident.

Truck: A Love Story by Michael Perry. The husband and I cruised to Alaska, and on the ship they had a "take one/leave one" book bin in the ship library. I'd read everything I'd packed by day five of our trip, so I thought I'd dig through there. People who travel to Alaska ought to have interesting reading material just by default (yielding to the adventurer's spirit and all of that jazz). I pulled this book out of the pile and chose it because it featured a big old truck on the cover. Reading this book reminded me how ignorant I am. If you ever need a good kick in the intellectual pants, pick up a Perry book. He's so clever and well written (although it feels more like "well spoken") and down to earth that it's humbling. It was a slow read written in a series of essays about his every day life and the people in it.

The Name of the Wind, by Patrick Rothfuss. I show this book to people for the first time and their eyes roll back in their heads. It's like an old fashioned hard backed Encyclopedia Britannica. I hand it to anyone, everyone and say, "Just promise me that you'll go fifty pages before bailing out." That's because I know that it takes fifty pages to get deep enough in the quicksand of Kvothe's story that you're a goner. And the sequel Wise Man's Fears that's longer by almost a hundred pages? Well, the waiting list to borrow it out of my high school classroom is five deep and counting. And I think it exceeded the first. Rothfuss has done the unthinkable: he has made fantasy writing accessible to everyone, even people who pooh-pooh fantasy as the red-headed step child of the book store.

So, if anyone has good summer reads to recommend, I'm game.

Disaster: An Essay to the Christian Community

Matthew 25:36-40 I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.’  “Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink?  When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you?  “The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’

In light of the unprecedented tornadoes that swept through my home state of Alabama, I would be remiss in not commenting on the state of our present suffering. My home and our community were spared, but all around us are people without homes, without power, without water, without hope. Their homes and communities and schools are literally flattened to the ground. There is so much to do that it's sort of like standing in the middle of a war zone without a clear clue as to what to do first or how to start. These are our neighbors, our friends, our people. We must do something.

Here are a few harsh truths that Christians need to remember when helping those in overwhelming need:.

People who have just lost everything don't give one rip about your God. They need to mourn. They need to wail. They need to grieve. Then, they need practical things: food, clothing, water, shelter. Once those needs are met, a person will listen to everything else you have to say. But until that moment when hope is restored, you are confirming their deepest hidden suspicion that it is your God of Love who has visited this wrath directly on their home, their family. Keep your mouth shut until the Holy Spirit moves you to speak.

We need to work WITH other organizations not against them. God didn't come to Earth for a hostile take over. Don't do anything to damage God's reputation by showing your rear when you don't get your way. Be at peace with all men. Cooperate. Share your toys. Be patient and kind even if you don't feel like it.

Keep in mind when you are talking to people who have been hurt, that human beings are very attached to their physical belongings. Having them ripped away is like losing a limb--not something that can be easily replaced. And even if you get the very best, most expensive prosthetic, it's not the same as having YOUR arm back. Not the same at all. Never forget that you aren't replacing someone's belongings. You are allowing them the ability to start over, but nothing will ever change the loss. Be sensitive to this issue.

And finally, expect lost people you encounter in a community to behave like lost people. Do not hold them to your standards of behavior. Love them anyway. That's what God did for you before you were saved. It's the  very least you can do for others.

Love does indeed cover a multitude of sins. Thank God!

Psalm 119:50 My comfort in my suffering is this: Your promise preserves my life.

Stage Fright

Lord, help me, I get so sick before speaking engagements.

There was a time when I printed out my standard material, had fun, enjoyed the crowd and the process, just told the stories, had a big time (as did everyone else), oh, and collected my check.

What would I give for it to be that way again just one time...

Now I wallow in my indecision--panic about the topics. I roll around in the muck my fear generates. I taste it on the back of my tongue. Roll it around in my mouth like bad medicine, dreading the swallow. My stomach is sour. My head aching. My nerves on edge. I smell panic on me like truth.

I avoid giving a commitment to speak until the last possible minute, allowing churches to back out on their invitation and hire someone else. I don't respond to emails in a timely manner. I let the phone go to voicemail. I keep trying to avoid, but it's always the same. No, we haven't even thought of asking anyone else. No, we've still got the date. No, we understand how busy you must be and totally understand.

Drat.

I'm not sure what changed between the Then and the Now unless it's that I actually have something important to say. Something that I hesitate to call 'from God', but it definitely didn't come from me. And the responsibility of that is like drowning slowly in thick paste. I am sick for days before the date. I struggle with preparing my material, waiting until the last minute to put anything on paper, sometimes not until the day of the event. I don't prepare or primp or gather my thoughts. There's nothing to gather. I am empty except for this feeling of dread.

God, what will you  have me say? God, will these people be angry when I tell them the truth? God, will anyone listen? God, what if I say it wrong? God, I am so inadequate. God, can I say 'no, my schedule is full' next time? God, please, please.

I  know I'm supposed to be crying, 'send me, I'll go', but I really want to put my head under the covers and hide. I am spoiled and difficult and not at all a willing servant. I am completely unprepared and inadequate. I can only guess why God keeps putting opportunities in front of me.

So, I find myself going to another church tonight that will be full of nice women expecting a nice evening of nicely decorated tables and catered food. They think I will take the podium wearing my nice clothes and tell a nice story about nice things that God has done in my life. When I rare back and unload both barrels full of righteous anger about all of the useless nice things we are doing as Christians, myself at the top of the list of offenders, I wonder if this is what they expected when they called me. It isn't nice at all. It's humbling. And horrifying. And  messy. And full of unmet expectations and toe-stomping truth.

I liked my little 'pocket god' much better when He let me just be Nice. Now we have a real relationship fraught with all sorts of demands and expectations, much like the ones I have with my husband and my children. He's moved me, taught me, lifted me, protected me, and trusted me. Now He's ready for the payout. So, I'll take the stage and will tell the truth as I understand it from the Word of God. The beauty of that is then I'm free of the sickness. I can again get back to the basics of daily living and not crumble under the weight of these unbelievably heavy expectations.

Until next Saturday when I'm due at the next church.

Lord, Jesus, all of you and none of me.