FOUR leaf clover

I found my first four leaf clover today! My very first one!  It came on the day that my lost dog was finally found, so I was already feeling blessed. :-)  Just wanted to share!

My son is eating the seeds off of the top of his hamburger bun.  He likes the burgers, but he prefers french fries.  So when I told him he couldn't have anymore french fries until he ate a bite of his burger, he chose this "compromise."  I'm not sure how this is better than just taking a bite... but whatever.
Today my little guy kicked his precious MawMaw. He was being silly, and thought it would be funny I guess.   Luckily his Daddy was there to give him a pop and a stern talking-to.  Later on in the day, when I went to pick him up, I mentioned something about not kicking, and he gave me the funniest look.  He put down his head, and frowned, and cut his eyes up at me with an expression that I can only describe as sheer confusion.  How did Mommy KNOW about when I got in trouble today?  I tried to keep a straight face.
Mommies always know, dear one.  Always.

Today's blog

For today's blog, go to NCtoVietnam.com and see today's post.  A little back story: my dad was in Vietnam, and my grandmother kept all the letters he wrote to the family while he was away. At this moment, 45 years ago, he had just finished with Basic Training. Our family invites you to eavesdrop on the conversations held between them during the most trying time of their lives.  Although I have mixed emotions about the things I might learn along the way, one thing I know for sure: history exists so that it can't be repeated. Hope you're blessed today.

Easter Egg Hunt day

So, today was scheduled to be my little guy's very first Easter Egg Hunt at church. However, his Mommy is paranoid about weather and they're calling for severe thunderstorms (which may mean tornadoes) during the window of time directly surrounding said hunt. 
On top of that, his Mommy also woke up with her nose reminding her that it doesn't like spring's yucky yellow paint all over the world. As in, I scratched my nose and felt it in my throat. 
So, we're not going.
Instead of being sad about it (she said, trying to convince herself that she's not sad), we're having our own Easter Egg Hunt!  Chez Willis!  One day only!  Or, you know, until he gets tired of Easter eggs. Based on last year's example, that could be a couple of weeks.
So we're home today, playing with eggs. And watching it rain. From the inside. :-)

A message from the little guy:
knnmmmmnnnnnnnnnnbbbbvvvvvvvvvvvc xxxxxzasdffffffffffffgggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggghhjjjjklqwwww1
w
wwwwwewrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrfffffgggggh
jjjjjjjjjjkkkkkkkkkkkllll12
34
567890
Translation: Happy Early Easter, everyone!

Three Leaf Clovers

I've never found a four-leaf clover. Don't get me wrong - it's not for want of trying. I've spent hours upon hours staring at grassy patches in other people's yards as well as my own trying to spot those little suckers. That doesn't even count the time I've spent looking at the ground while I walk through any size space filled with grass, hoping to see one. All this time searching, and then I hear about these people who have found several in their lifetime. What am I doing wrong? 

Okay, let's go through the process.
Step One: Stand in some grass. Check.
Step Two: Open your eyes. Check.
Step Three: Point them toward the ground. Check.
Step Four: Find a four leaf clover. ... sigh.

It's that pesky last step that has me stumped. What am I missing here?
I wonder if it isn't luck at all, but just some special breed of grass that only grows in certain - oh, what's that? You found a four leaf clover in my yard? Good for you.
Sigh again.
Want to know what got me thinking on this subject? I was baking this evening and realized that I've never found a double yoked egg either. As I laboriously stirred my two eyeballed eggs into my cake dough, I wondered if they really exist. I've heard they do. But what do you do if you find one? Fish out one of the yokes? Or just don't open the second egg? But would that leave enough egg white for the batter? Oh, the pressure!  I'm almost glad I haven't found a double-yoked egg. I don't think I could handle it.

So it begs the question: do I care if I'm not lucky?

I don't mind that I've never won the lottery. Who needs the headaches? I'd rather be proud of my day's work than ashamed of my bank balance.  I also don't mind that I'm not very good at Monopoly (I'm determined that there's no skill to that game, just luck and meanness).
So where does this leave me? An unlucky woman, surrounded by three leaf clovers.
But maybe that's not so bad after all.  If I'm surrounded by them, that means I'm in someone's yard, and that's normally a pretty good place to be.  It also means that there's good weather because, really, who looks for clovers when it's raining out?  And if there are several three-leaf clovers, that also means that the rain levels are good this year. And my yard looks greener even if it's not grass.
Maybe I have a little luck after all.  I've seen a few shooting stars.  I don't think that's luck though - that really is just a matter of leaving your eyes on the skies for long enough.  Especially if there's a meteor shower.
The moral of this story is that luck is all well and good for some people, but for me - I'll take my blessings. The three leaf clovers will make me happy today. And the cake that will be made with the single yoked egg. And the extra dollars in my pocket not wasted on a lottery ticket. And the peace of mind knowing that I could win Monopoly if I wanted to, if I make up my own rules.
So look, world, look for four leaf clovers!  And while you're searching, I'll rejoice in the abundance of three.

Potty Motivation: Lesson One

In the effort to get my son interested in using the potty, I used his favorite thing to try and motivate him: washing hands.  I'm not sure what it is: the water, its temperature, the noise... who knows.  What I DO know is that he loves to wash his hands!  So I told him today that, after he goes potty, he gets to wash his hands.  Poor guy, he just looked overwhelmed.  He just doesn't get the potty thing just yet, and I think he's getting tired of hearing me ask him if he wants to go.  So he sighed, and appeared to resign himself to life without the bonus hand washing.

I'm not sure what the parallel is, but I'm sure there's one in there somewhere.  Any ideas?

Two? Seriously?

My little boy is two years old, and I'm a little... I don't even know what the word would be.  Confused? Flabbergasted?  Where did the time go? What happened to my itty bitty baby? 
I didn't realize how big he was until we were looking at some pictures the other day, and I was pointing out the baby to the baby, noticing that one baby was tiny and the other baby was taking up my whole lap.  We watched a couple of videos, and I remember the moments like they were yesterday.  In one, I was holding a video camera, afraid to move, absolutely positive that he was going to turn over for the first time. Any. Second. Now... And of course he didn't.  I remember being so excited, and thinking of all the people I was going to show, and how I was going to keep this video for aaaaaaaall eternity so that I could remember my baby boy just this way.  And now?  He's accomplished all the goals he was supposed to, from turning over to crawling to running, whether I had my camera or not.  He went from babbling to random words to sentences.  I'm so proud of that little guy.
So I have to take a step back and wonder - is this how God feels about me?  He's known me since before my conception, and saw all my major milestones.  For Him, though, they were marked by different things.  He remembers fondly the first time I ever prayed.  He remembers the time, as a very small child, I invited him (shyly) to please come live in my heart and clean me up.  He remembers the moments, as I grew, when the fire of passion in my heart ignited and grew.  He remembers when I committed my life, my whole life, to His service.  He remembers every journal page, every tear, every single whispered prayer. 
The best part of this story is that I don't know the next step.  When it comes to my being a parent, I'm pretty sure I know the next battles that lie ahead.  I know we're on the cusp of potty training and big boy beds.  My son doesn't.  In the same way, I have NO idea what's coming up next in my life with God!  What a comfort to know that He does.  And he's standing by with His video camera.

The Tale of the Time a Tree Nearly Toppled on Me

The year: 2003.  I think.  I was horseback riding with my friend Judy from college.  We were at a place near Asheville, NC where we could be led by experts on a winding trail.  One of the advertising points was that you could see the Biltmore House, the most beautiful mansion ever built on American soil, from the trail.  And so, figuring I would be a natural with a horse, I found myself atop the tallest creature I'd ever seen (looking back, he wasn't even the biggest horse they had that day).  Our first lesson was in mounting the horse: Solid B+.  Next, signaling the horse to turn, stop and start: not so solid C+.  I kept making the horse go backward when I wanted it to stand still.  We nearly backed into a car.  The man in charge, who appeared to have nerves of steel and the patience of a saint, was already tired of me before I was sent to the little circular track where I was to practice my new skills.  So, off we went, round and round, slooooooowly.  I was okay with turning, and great with starting, but stopping was a whole 'nother beast, as it were.  My horse kept going backward when I wanted to just sit still. 
Sigh.
While I was practicing, my horse got bored and decided it would be more fun to go for a run.  As he took off, my body took over, and I pulled the reins and - miraculously - he stopped!  We started off again, only to have a repeat of the same scenario.  This happened several times, and when it was finally time to start our ride, I was a pro at stopping.  (I'm still waiting for the promised Cardboard Cookie.)
At last, we were put into some sort of order, and off we went onto the trail.  Please keep in mind that this was a trail in the middle of the Blue Ridge Mountains, so we were reminded to stay sharp.  One wrong turn of the reins meant that horse and rider were going on a rolling tour to the bottom of a gorge. 
We rode for a while until we reached a point in the trail where we were all single file.  There was barely enough room on the trail for two horses side-by-side, so us rookies had to go nose-to-tail until the trail widened up a little.  Our guide pointed off into the distance and we saw it at last!  The Biltmore Estate!  And it was.... Tiny!  If I'd had binoculars, I could have probably made out how many floors there were to the house.  I was underwhelmed. 
As we started again, I heard a noise on the hill to my left.  Assuming it was a squirrel or some varment, I chose not to look.  Suddenly from behind me, I heard the rider behind me yell "GO GO GO!"
Before I even knew what was happening, my body took over again.  My heels dug into the horse, who immediately darted forward. Just as quickly, I nearly ran out of room, so I pulled the reins and my horse stopped.  In his tracks.  That's when I heard the loudest crash I'd heard, coming from directly behind me.  Everyone was able to maintain control of their horses, and when we turned back, every jaw dropped open: There on the trail, in the space previously occupied by my horse and me, was a downed tree.  A tree, folks!  The noise I'd heard wasn't an animal, but the roots of the old tree finally giving up the ghost.
I stopped and looked around.  My horse and I were side-by-side with another horse on the skinniest part of the trail.  And I'd stopped him.  If we'd continued any further, we would have taken that rolling tour.
Soon our tour continued (the riders behind me got to practice going backward, which I had already mastered thank-you-very-much), and not long after that, I was bidding my horse farewell. 
Looking back, I wonder at the way I was prepared for my adventure before it happened.  While I was annoyed at the weird things my horse was doing, it was preparing me in ways I couldn't have known for my big moment to come.  If he hadn't been acting crazy, I wouldn't have been able to stop him at the time I needed him to stop. 
Think for a moment about all the little things that test your patience every day: red lights, deadlines, rude people, waiting in line, the list goes on.  But the patience we earn from those experiences often come to save us in the moments we need it most: sick relatives, car accidents, the most trying times of your life.  The things that we think are tests turn out, in the end, to be little quizzes designed to help us pass a bigger test.
So the next time your toddler is tantruming in the store, remember the quizzes that got you to this test.  And consider this a quiz for an even bigger test.  And laugh a little bit.  It'll help.

I love KLove.  I mean, I love it.  It's a national Christian radio station (check it out at klove.com and find a station! it's worth it.) and they're doing a challenge where you have to listen to Christian music ONLY for 30 days.  No cheating.  The goal is to see if it changes your life.  When I told my hubby that I was doing this, he laughed and asked how that's any different at all from what I already do.
It's so wonderful to listen to good music every day that isn't going to make me sad.  The DJs are funny.  Actual funny DJs who aren't talking about gross things or illegal things or things that make me nervous.  They're laughing about things that I laugh at; like the other day when they were having people call in and tell how their body reacts when they get nervous.  One girl said she actually snorts.  Randomly.  And she demonstrated.  On Mondays the morning folks have Make a Difference Monday every week when people call in about how someone has made a positive difference in their life, or if they've done something to help someone else.  Wednesdays are Wow God Wednesdays where people call and tell their stories about how God has come through in their lives in ways that make your jaw drop. 
I mean, come on.  There's no way I'd turn the channel from THAT and go to... grossness.  Don't even get me started.
So I didn't consider myself as really attached to this challenge thing until today, when I was in a restaurant where they were playing country music.  I laughed at the "heart felt" videos, and really found myself getting impatient with the music.  It had no message.  No feeling. It made my face smile for a minute, but  I got bored quickly.  Then, we went to another place and I heard an old song that I loooooove, and sang along with as long as we were in the store.  It was in my head for a while.  Didn't like it.
So I went back to my little desk and turned on my little radio and heard a song that made my heart smile, not just my face.
Much better. :-)

Saying "So long."

Today was a sad day. One of my very best work friends has moved on from the glories of working for DSS, and today was her last day.  Big sighs all around!  It was a fairly productive day, but all I really wanted to do was sit in her office and chat, since I know I won't be seeing much of her now. 
But that got me thinking.
Thinking about the seasons of friendship.  Of course, we know as adults that all relationships are seasonal.  Some relationships (like siblings and spouses) are for your entire life, and your go through seasons within the relationship, but I'm talking about the kind of seasonal where tulips only last for the spring.  The summer camp kind of friendship.  You've never been so close to a person as when you're spending your every waking minute with that person, and you're convinced that you know every single detail about your BFF's life, and they know everything about yours.  It's the kind of friendship that breaks your heart to have to physically leave each other's side at the end of camp.  (Please keep in mind while reading this that I never went to summer camp; I'm only going by other people's stories and Parent Trap.)
I pondered that a lot today.  I acknowledge as an adult that friendships can't last forever.  They just... don't always do it.  As I hugged my dear friend goodbye and we walked to our cars at 5:02pm today, I could feel the finality of the final moments of this season of our friendship. 
But as I was driving away, a ridiculously relieving thought came to my mind.  Maybe ALL friendships are the first kind of seasonal.  The one where they last your entire life, but come and go.
It felt like the end of an era (to quote Friends), but I found great comfort that another era is just around the corner.  An era of texting, and meeting at the mall, and catching up on facebook.  And after that, there are more eras to come. 
So Monday morning I'll head back to work, having not moved onward or upward.  I'll go back to my regular routine, and enjoy the era that I've got with the wonderfully fun coworkers around me.  I'll work hard, and maybe laugh a little too, and we'll miss our university-bound friend.  We'll leave her office door closed until, in a couple of months, someone else occupies the space. 
So if you've recently bid a friend "Adieu," remember dear friends: tulips only last for the spring, but they'll be back next year. 

Exercise! It's funny!

I'm not in the best shape of my life.  That is QUITE the understatement.  I try not to pay too much attention to numbers on a scale, but... it's hard to miss an expanding waistline.  I've been trying to do the simple things: you know, parking farther away (but within a safe distance).  Walking the long way around the office to get to the front desk (being careful not to stop and chat with too many people, as this defeats the purpose).  I've even been known to do a few squats when I have to pull something out of a bottom drawer of my filing cabinet (actually I wasn't known for that, as that has been a secret until just this moment).  I like to think of myself as a... constant exerciser.  Whatever that is.
The other day it came to my attention that my Hubby's parents have an elyptical machine, not being used, in their basement.  So after some smooth talking I made a trade: I could borrow the machine, in exchange for my box full of Our State magazines.  Trade complete.
I hope to not alarm you when I say that having the eucalyptus (unicorn? I keep saying it wrong) in my house did NOT put me magically in better shape.  However, let me just tell you how it made it painfully aware of how OUT of shape I really am. 
The first time I got on the machine, I only made it a minute and a half.  After that, I was afraid that I wouldn't make it to my bed to collapse.  Sigh.  I'm more than a little ashamed, but the truth shall set me free!
This truth makes me feel better. I've ridden the unicycle (eucyclops? wrong again) almost every day since then, increasing my time by only a little or none at all, determined not to push myself too far.  Tonight, I rode it for a whole seven minutes! Wahoo! I traveled like 3/10 of a mile, at 3 miles per hour.  Okay, fitness guru I am not.  BUT, that's improvement, right?  I mean... right??
The important thing is that I'm taking steps (circular though they may be) in the right direction. I'm still not paying attention to the numbers on the scale (until I think I'll see something good), and I haven't noticed any differences in the waistline just yet.  But I'm making progress.  And that, my friends, is the name of the game.
And in reference to the title of this blog: It really is funny.  Don't worry so much about results! Remember to giggle at yourself now and again. It helps. :-)

I'm an old lady.

I was recently called out for crocheting while I watched Matlock.  I have two things to say in my defense: one, at least it wasn't Murder She Wrote (although I prefer it); and two, I wasn't alone.
But while I'm talking about it, I had an epiphany while I was crocheting today.  I'm working on a new pattern which I've never tried before.  It's a lovely tan hat (lovely, as in, I REALLY LIKE it), and I'm very nearly finished.  I was stitching away when the verse from Psalm 139 popped in my head: "He knit me together in my mother's womb."  While I know I wasn't knitting (this time), it occurred to me how very personal God's relationship is with me.  He's my Creator. Creative.  How interesting.  And I think I'm still a work in progress.
So all the times when I'm rebelling, I can feel Him having to get me back on the right track.  I never imagined this as painful to Him until I had to pull out a few layers of pattern because I'd made a mistake a few rows back.  All that progress, gone.  All that time and energy, wasted. 
But was it really?  I don't think so. Because when it came time for me to reach the point of my mistake again, I didn't make the same mistake.  And that, my friends, is grace.
So today I'm feeling very thankful that, even though I think I'll always be a work in progress (until I reach Heaven), I'm not going it alone.  I have a pattern (the Bible), and a wonderful Guide who will show me my mistakes, help me correct them, and teach me how to avoid them in the future.
God's really great. :-)

Snow and ice and more snow

Snow is kind of like my image before God.
Before it starts, I'm dirty. Muddy. Sinful.  And down comes the snow as beautiful as salvation to cover it all in beauty.  Suddenly I'm spotless! Beautiful! Captivating!  Now and again I allow myself to get muddy again; footprints from dogs and people and cars and such. I allow sin into my life again and again, despite the damage.
Inevitably though, I realize the pain to my soul's landscape, and allow my heart to rest and be healed by another layer of grace and snow.  And the mud has disappeared all over again, and I'm once again captivating.  Even the deepest footprints are eventually filled and covered.  Beauty reigns.
In my analogy, the snow remains.  Not because of temperature, but because of love.  The grace that covered my ickiness in the first place remains.  It stays right where it is until death, when we must take our clean and spotless selves before our maker.  Suddenly it's baren and dry again, because we've taken all we have to offer.
Don't worry, friends.  All is not lost.  The snow in the atmosphere cleaned up the air.  The snow on the ground moistened the soil.  And when we reach Heaven, eternal Spring, Our souls blossom full, bright, forever.
I love the anticipation!
Happy snow day, friends.

Luke says "I like the mountains."

I couldn't agree with him more.  As we were driving down Old Fort Mountain in western NC last weekend, I was looking at the splendorous view and noticed something.  The mountains are really, truly beautiful.  The colors, the height differences, the landscape; just gorgeous.  But if you're standing half way up one, or even on top of one, it's hard to appreciate the beauty of your particular mountain because you're in its midst.  On the flip side, if you're standing in the valley beside the mountain, you still don't have a good vantage point.  It's kind of like sitting in the front row of a movie theatre; you get the general idea of what's happening, but you have to crane your neck to get the full picture.  The good spot to viewing a mountain is on another mountain, on the other side of a valley.  It's the valleys that make the mountains so beautiful. 
So true in our walks with God as well.  It's wonderful to be up on that mountaintop experience, feeling close to God.  It's dreadful to be in the middle of the valley, stuck where you feel far away and forgotten.  But when you're on your way up again and take a look back, you realize that you have to experience the lows to appreciate the highs.  Just another parallel in nature to our relationship with God.  It's almost as though He designed it that way.  (sarcasm. so you know.)
Have a lovely day!

I was on the radio today!

I was listening to my favorite radio station, K-Love, which is a national show.  The lunch time dj, Sterling, was talking about the simple things that make us happy.  You know, like fresh sheets and chocolate bars and such things.  I had a thought, so I called the number and.... she picked up!  How exciting!  So I told her the following story.
When I was little, my dad worked as an accountant.  Sometimes he had late nights, and a few of those times my mom would let me stay up late to wait for him to come home.  And on fewer of those nights, he would bring me home a present.  It was never anything big, but small things like french fries from McDonald's, things like that.  Anyway, one night he came home and had forgotten to bring me a special prize. So, he called me over to his desk, opened his briefcase, and brought out a beautiful, never-been-used, sharpened #2 pencil.  I, being a preschooler, had never had a pencil of my own before, let alone a beautifully sharpened one!  My mom let me draw a little that night, then was surprised when I remembered it the next day.  Ever since then, my favorite writing utensil is a freshly sharpened pencil.  I try not to be wasteful, so I don't sharpen my pencils often, but when I do... man alive.  It makes me smile, and think of my Dad, every time.
Do you have a simple pleasure?

New year, new lip (it's not what you think)

Picture this: It's five in the morning on New Year's Day.  The Hubs and I rang in the New Year by our almost-two-year-old's crib side, begging him to sleep.  After hours of persuasion, we all finally snoozed for a couple of hours all piled up on the bed, until just this moment.  The child, beloved and precious, has had enough of Mom and Dad, and decided to show it by thrashing and flailing about.  First, a knuckle punch to the inside of my right eyeball.  I blinked repeatedly, trying to ease the pain, and had finally regained sight when, out of nowhere, came the head-butt.  In the moment, several things flashed through my mind.  First, I didn't think he could aim that well, but he must have aimed. Second, I think this hurts more than I think it does.  And third, I wonder if my mom's awake because I think I'll need ice. 

Moments later, the pain set in.  And I felt the oozing down my chin.  Nice.  Flash forward a couple of hours, and now I'm sitting with an ice pack over my lip, curled up sleepily while my precious mother occupied my baby boy with a puzzle.  I looked at my sister for comfort, and asked "Does it look bad?"  I waited for her sympathetic response, wondering what sweet words she would have to say that might make me laugh at this whole situation.  Her response: "Yes."  She smiled, and pointed out that she can't lie.  Thanks, sis.
So all of our family pictures from New Christmas Year's have me with a big fat lip, or me glancing to the right, or me kissing the boy.  Call it art if you want.  I call it the most memorable New Year's Day of my life. 

I hadn't previously made any New Year's resolutions and hadn't planned to.  But maybe I should.  Maybe it should be... learn to block better.

Happy New Year's.

My very first blog

Okay, so, I give up.  Years upon years of resisting the blogging "thing," and I finally concede.  So what now?  I have my own little page, my own little web address, and my own little voice.  What to do?  The opportunities are endless. 
Allow me to, first, introduce myself to you, the nameless to whom I am writing.  I'm an almost 30, married,  working Mommy of one.  I hear I'm a part of Generation Y, which makes me tech savvy and forward-thinking.  Apparently.  I'm a Jesus-lover, before anything else, and my good Friend will likely be the topic of most of my blogs.  All the other blanks will be filled as we get to know each other.
So hi. :-)  Nice to meet you.