A Time to Melt.

I stepped outside today to let the pups do their business, and I was aware of the sound of rain all around me.  I looked up.  The sky was bright and sunny with not a cloud in sight.  For a few moments, I couldn't figure out the source of that constant and melodic sound.

Until I looked at the trees.

The ice was melting.  

All around me, the sounds of little sections of ice gently falling to the snow-covered ground reminded me of a verse from Ecclesiastes 3.

"To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven...a time to break down, and a time to build up; a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance..."

Not to be dramatic or anything, but I just really felt God this morning while listening to the ice fall.  The ice that has stopped so many from their day to day activities; the ice that has caused so many wrecks and accidents; the ice that has trapped many in their homes for days.

This same ice also provided much needed time for my husband and I to spend together.  This same ice made sure that we could talk and laugh and eat and play together uninterrupted, uninhibited, unscheduled for days on end.  

For everything there is a season, and I've enjoyed this small season with him.  And Him.

PS-Be sure to check out the husband's blog...he's giving it a go.  We'll see how long it lasts...!!!  ;)

http://russellkern.blogspot.com/

Stilettos + Ice = Abandoned Car.

As we all know by now, the state is covered in ice.  And snow.  And sleet.  And such.  Kiiiiiinda reminds me of a time like this that happened last year...but I refuse to remember being out of power for an entire week.

Anyway, on the drive home from school (which was let out a whole 20 minutes early.  What was the point?), I slipped and slid and spun my way home.  It normally takes about 15 minutes to get from work to home, but yesterday it took about an hour and a half.  No one was driving over 10 mph....well, no SANE person.  I have to take one highway for about 5 miles to get to my neighborhood, and on this highway is a hill.  Amidst the sheer terror of driving on ice ALONE, I did have to chuckle as all the drivers and I would stop at the top of the hill, wait our turn, and then finally, one nervous driver after another, we would spin our way down the hill.  Scary?  Yes.  Semi-fun?  Sort of.

Somehow I maneuvered home amidst the side-lined trucks and SUV's.  This, to me, was a miracle.  How I didn't run off the road earlier in my little car (the husband had the SUV since he had to drive home way later that night) is beyond me.  I thought small cars were useless on ice, but what do I know?  I was the one who dwadled in the grocery store after being let out of work early and told to get home fast.  It couldn't be that bad outside, right?!?!  Duh.

So I made it up and down the crazy highway hill, avoided the drunken trucker causing a ruckus in the middle of the road, and wound my way through the twisty neighborhood roads.  And there it was.  My driveway.  My house.  By this time, my head was pounding, shoulders were tense and knuckles white from gripping the steering wheel like grim death for over an hour.  And the end was near...

...but not near enough.

The car slid off the road.  Into a ditch.  RIGHT across the street from my driveway.

Ugh.

After successfully getting myself out of two other slight ditches earlier, I thought this would be no problem.  Alas, after multiple attempts, I could not manage to get the car out of the sloping grass and back onto the road.  So.  I took a deep breath, buttoned up my coat, grabbed my three shopping bags (stupid), and stepped out onto the sheet of ice.

In my stiletto boots.

WHAT WAS I THINKING???

It took me about 15 minutes JUST to walk across the street to get to my property.  I slipped, I spun, I swirled, I swore (but only in my head...that doesn't count, right?!?).  Finally, I made it across without falling and breaking my teeth.

Sadly, I left my little car behind, but at that point, I didn't care.  A friendly neighbor later helped me get it out and into the garage.

Let's just say...lesson learned.

No heels on ice.  And/or GO HOME when told.

(But now the husband and I are out of school/work for a few days...fire, movies and pj's here we come!)

Officially Old.

Well friends, the time has come to admit that I am...officially old.  Example?  See Exhibit A, my "early" Valentine's Day gift for which I begged, pleaded and whined:

An espresso machine.  Praise the Lord.  For reals.

I have realized that I do, in fact, need coffee in the mornings.  What has happened to me!?  In college, I would voluntarily get up two hours before my morning classes began simply to enjoy the morning: shower, Today Show with breakfast, leisure reading/Bible study time, take my time getting primped and ready, etc.  Nowadays, I hoist my half-asleep self out of bed at the last possible second, trudge into the bathroom, and speedily get ready in under 30 minutes.  All for the sake of extra sleep.

And then, when I arrive at my chosen profession, I am greeted by these:

TEENS.  Lots. Of. Teens.  

And why has it taken me this long to admit I need a little boost in order to deal (civilly) with teenagers starting at 7:30 AM???

Anyway, my husband has now turned our kitchen into a faux-Starbucks in the morning, sweetly whipping up my skim milk, half-caff, no-sugar caramel mocha for me.  (Ladies, don't be too jealous....!)   ;)   I grumpily shuffle out the door, mocha and purse in hand, (semi)ready to take on the day....the day full of teenagers.  

Did I mention the teenagers?

;)

But the coffee helps.

And the nice husband who makes it for me.

The Adverse Effects of Little Women.

The Hart girls. That's what we were referred to by so many of our friends back home. Not only was that our name, but growing up, I lived with my mom and younger sister in a cozy home--just the three of us. We shared everything: secrets, experiences, broken hearts, laughter and vacations. We went through more than one family's share of dark times, but that brought us closer than most. Somehow, we three share this strange bond that transcends distance and age. Other people noticed this bond, too. Thus the nickname 'The Hart Girls.' It just stuck. That was our name, but it meant so much more to the three of us than that. We were all we had.


One of our favorite movies was and is "Little Women." We find so many similarities to ourselves in that movie, from the sisterly bickering, the gentle nudgings toward bettering ourselves, laughter and sadness, changes and traditions. And, I'm sure, many a woman (perhaps many a man...?) has shed a tear watching this special film and/or reading the book. It is just such a rare picture of the bond between sisters and their mother.


And that's what we have. A closeness that I wouldn't trade for all the world.







So, whenever I chose to watch this movie, especially now that I live far away from them, I bawl uncontrollably. It is true. I weep. And I'm not a crier. Tissues fly, snot runs, whimpers ensue. I'm a mess when it comes to this movie. And it had been a long, VERY long time since I had watched it.


Until recently.


Why, you might ask, would I submit myself to this bout of tearful mania? I have no idea. It could have been a forgetful moment where I didn't remember the affect this film had on me. It might have been that my husband randomly suggested it as our evening entertainment to score points for "wanting" to watch a chick flick. Or it could have been that I miss my sister and mom so much it hurts, and I just wanted to feel close to them for those 120 minutes.


The result: A crying jag culminating in a very blotchy and red face. To spare the sheer horror of the aftermath, I shall chop up the picture for you. I am one of those people who, after shedding and wiping many a tear, instantly puff up and turn red. Strangely, my lips puff more than anything else. In high school, people used to call me 'Elvis lips' after I'd cried. In college, 'Angelina lips.' Does this make sense to me? No. But it was funny nonetheless.

Please note the puffy lips, swollen nose and red-rimmed eyes.


Now THAT is what I call love! ;)


I miss my Hart girls. So so much.

Um...Go Sooners?

My husband and I attended a private college sans football team (other than your various and sundry teams of the flag variety), so I never really developed a die-hard fanatisicm for any college football team.  Who are we kidding...for ANY team of ANY sport.  But even Russell admits that he doesn't get "into it" as much as our friends who attended a large school with an even larger team following.

Until now.

As previously mentioned, my husband is currently attending OU Tulsa's pharmacy school.  The reason for choosing this school had nothing to do with the football team, rather it had everything to do with reputation, location and programs.

But let me just tell you...my theory is: If we're gonna chunk so much money their way, I might as well wear the t-shirt.

So.  I guess I'm a fan.  (...Even though they lost...shhh...)

Boomer Sooner.

Any fanatics out there, no matter the team?

"My Rachel/Phoebe Moment" or "Baby Bug."

If you are a regular Friends (rerun) watcher, you will know what I'm talking about in a few moments...(Now, I realize that to those of you out there who have been pregnant, are pregnant and/or have had a child, this post might seem a bit trite.  Try, if you will, to recall that "getting ready" phase...that's where I am.  Just to be clear.)

Remember the episode at Monica's and Chandler's wedding where Rachel takes the PG test but can't look at the results?  She has Phoebe look for her, and, after the allotted time has passed for the test to be accurate, Phoebe tells her that she is not pregnant.  Rachel gives a halting sigh of anticipated relief, and then she can't understand why she is crying.   She says (and I quote), "How could I be upset over something I never had?"  And then Phoebe admits she was lying about the test result, meaning that Rachel is, in fact, pregnant.  Much laughter and rejoicing ensues.

Well, about 4 months ago, I had my Rachel/Phoebe moment.  After I noticed a few "things" were a little "off schedule," I took a pregnancy test.  The result was inconclusive.  You can read about that lovely gem of a story here.  Anyway, after one inconclusive test, one positive test and a final negative test, my emotions were spiraling out of control.  As indicated from my previous post, this was not something planned out in my near future.

And folks, if you didn't know already, I'm a girl who loves a plan.  To me, a plan is like having a big, fuzzy, warm blanket wrapped tightly around you, shielding you from worrying and fretting.  Love me a good plan.

Anyway, it was determined I was not pregnant.  One would assume that, like on Friends, much rejoicing would ensue.  But it didn't.  

I was...sad.

For about 2 weeks, I sort of thought I was pregnant.  And now....I wasn't.  

It is hard to explain what happened after that, but I shall try.  It was as if, for two short weeks, I had allowed myself to get excited about this.  To dream.  To plan.  To want this.  I had assumed I'd freak out, fall apart, go insane and basically flail uselessly about.  But that didn't happen.  What did happen was a change in my heart and plans that I was forcefully pressing down for many years...and...when I finally allowed myself to get excited, I realized I had changed.

You see, I have never been a "baby" person.  I don't immediately run to any available baby in a room and beg to squeeze, pinch, pat or hold it.  No thanks.  I never was one to babysit for a part-time job.  Until recently, there have been no babies in my family for me to "practice" on.  Almost all of my friends are either pregnant or have newborns, but I still have no idea what I'm doing when I am holding them.  I love them, because they are a part of my dear friends....But I'll admit it---they intimidate me.

Thus, for the longest time (forever), I've told myself that I'm just not a "baby person."  That self-imposed label has stuck in my own brain for many years, and, as a result, I'd sort of convinced myself that I probably wouldn't be a mom...at least for a looooong time.  Not to mention the fact that my husband and I recently made huge changes and sacrifices in our lives for him to go back to school for four years.  Not the best time to be having baby thoughts, I told myself.  You just can't desire that, nor can you afford it, I said.  You wouldn't be good at it anyway, I believed.  

But now...

Now, I can't wait.

Even though I wasn't actually pregnant, I felt, for the first time, excited about bringing a life into the world.  About passing along tradition, faith and values.  About family memories.  About being a mom.

This is not an announcement of any kind.  Rather, I wanted to share the process I've watched myself walk through over these past 4 months.  It is amazing how Satan can take worry and fear, and he can twist it around your life plans without you even knowing it.

What's even more amazing is God's process of the untwisting....

Stay tuned.

;)