Thanks, Mom. (In So Many Words)

We're currently 3/4 of the way through the 5th and final book of Gregor: The Underland Chronicles by Suzanne Collins (of the Hunger Games trilogy fame).

I can't even remember when we started this series. Summer? What I do know is that the kids have been hooked from day one.

So tonight, as we settled in to read, Harper asks,

"Mom, is this a series you would choose to read on your own?"

"What do you mean? I did choose it."

"No. Would you read it without us? Like, alone."

"Ohhh. I get it. Yes, it's something I would read by myself."

"But, well, you chose to share it . . . you know, read it to us, like, together . . . instead of well, keeping it to yourself, like, you know-"

"Harper, are you trying to say thank-you?"

"Yes."

"You're welcome. This is my favorite activity of the day. Reading to you both."

And THAT is why I continue to read aloud to my 10 year old.

Addict

I know.

This post could be titled "duh". Move along. Nothing to see here.

We all know I'm a coffee addict.

My husband is aware of it.

My kids see my daily need for coffee.

My blog is my online coffee shop where I chat about everything.

I'm not hiding anything.

But, why the post about it?

Cause, all joking aside, I really am addicted to coffee. Going on 20 years now. It was post-college when I truly joined the coffee craze and shops starting springing up like weeds. Really tasty weeds.

Just as a smoker craves to hold a cigarette between their fingers, I too crave the warmth on my hands that only comes from cradling a steaming cup of comfort. Sometimes I don't even want to drink it, but rather, hold it, for my addiction is also a tactile one.

During a morning power outage yesterday I was thankful that George had already fired up the Keurig and passed me my morning glory. For a brief moment I had an internal discussion as to what I would have done if the outage had happened earlier, thus making him unable to power up the machine that brews crutch.

How much do I drink? Really, not much. (And that statement just screams denial. Does it not?)

Three. Maybe, four cups a day - one of them, sadly, decaf. I realize that this doesn't sound like much. Only, coffee is the FIRST thing I think about when I wake in the morning.

No joke.

Honestly, I can NOT quit anytime I want, for I don't want to quit.

Right now, the biggest issue with my java jubilee is that I don't drink enough water. Which comes back to bite me, as I'm currently doing this. Working out hard without proper hydration sucks the life out of me, and not even caffeine can bring it back.

So, here I sit, typing my admission to you.

My name is Joline and I am a javaholic.

Now, enough of this silliness. It's already 10:00 AM and I've not yet had my second cup yet.

Well, don't just sit there. Chop chop.

Are You A Puppet Master?

I read this incredible quote today:

The gift, once given, is no longer yours to control. If you give someone something, do so openly and freely, otherwise, what's the point? If you're not giving joyously, but to control the people around you, it's time to reassess.


It's not as if this idea is a new one to me. But this quote does a great job summing up a belief I've held for years but have been unable to communicate as well. Sure, we've all heard the cliche "no strings attached". Those strings insinuate CONTROL - like a puppet on a string.

When we give, and then treat the givee as a marionette, we've not actually given a gift 'tall. Think about it.

I'm still giving as I shared with you I would. Whether it be tithing, putting change in our Christmas jar, placing aside clothing, shoes, and household goods for Good Will drop-offs, picking up items at the store for friends or running their errands, donating cosmetics and personal products to the women's shelter, etc. I have traded my, "How much cash can I get for this?" for "Who could use this?"

And trust me. I could use the cash!

I've had great examples to guide me. When I look around my house, every room has an item that has been graciously given to me. Without those puppet strings.

So, I do the same.

Lighten the load for someone else when you have the opportunity. Heck, it could be as simple as picking up a loaf of bread for a neighbor.

Simple gifts translate into full hearts.

Trust me. My heart runneth over.

The Last Time I Question My Husband For Making a Non-budgeted Purchased

Zane isn't a huge Steeler fan.  Sure he'll hang out in a room of people at a party to watch a Steeler game, and he might even dress in yellow and gold for the event.  But, for the most part, he's "not a sports kid".

Those are his words.

So, it was quite a surprise to hear him asking for a new Steeler shirt, or Steeler socks, (yes, socks), after the AFC championships last week.

The week before, while the Steelers beat the Ravens, Zane won a "Stillers" can cozy in one of the raffles during a game-viewing party with our church. That night, in the spirit of the event, he also donned black and yellow beads, compliments of my friend Amy. He was pleased enough with having these items.

For this week's game, he barely squeezed his 6 year old body into a fleece he was sent to him from Four Mile back in 2008 when we were still living in Chicago but preparing to become Pittsburgher's.

Pretty pathetic for Steeler gear. I promised him we'd hit the $1 store to get some more Steeler-wear for him before the Superbowl. I knew that would appease him. It's not like he needs a jersey or anything.  You know me - waste not.

Wednesday night I sent George and Zane out to pick up some soup for me and Harper, as we were down with a nasty with a virus. They came back with the miso. And an extra surprise.

Zane returned wearing a brand-spankin' new official Steeler AFC championship long-sleeve tee which could NOT be mistaken for the dollar store variety. My eyes bugged out of my sick head as I gave George the stare down.

"Trust me," he said, "I'll tell you the story later."

"How much was it?"

"$20. I'll tell you later."

For a kid who could care less??????????? Really? Talk about questioning his judgement. So he wanted to have a father/son sports moment. I get that. But couldn't he do it for less? I mean, really, Zane would have been pleased with SOCKS! Cheap SOCKS.

Turns out, while waiting for the soup order, George and Zane hopped over to our local Steeler's store to look around. They were in the store maybe 5 minutes when Zane came over to George carrying a mini goal-post in his hand.

"Daddy. This broke."

George walked the piece back over to a replica of Heinz Field. A replica with a broken goal-post.

I think he may have cursed in his head. Which is a big deal for him.

"Did you break this?"

"I really don't know."

"Zane, did you break this off?"

"I just touched it. I don't know if it was already broken."

George carried the model to the counter and explained that he hadn't witnessed Zane break the piece off the stadium. He honestly wasn't sure if he had actually done so, or if it had been snapped earlier. Regardless, he was very apologetic. He realized he could be asked to pay for the replica which was much more then the $20.

There was silence. And uncomfortable silence.

George broke it with, "So, do you have any new Steelers shirts in kids sizes?"

Out from the stock room, for they hadn't even been unpacked and hung on racks yet, came the newest addition to Zane's wardrobe, which he proudly wore to school the next day.

Well played, George.

I'm the Chief Household-Budget Officer. And I approve this purchase.

God Told Me To Mail You This Book

Two of you will be receiving this book in the mail.

One of you doesn't read blogs, so you have no idea it is coming.

The other one does read my blog and follows me on Facebook. We've shared a friendship since Trinity days. And I want you to have this.

Why?

I really don't actually know. Well, I have an idea. As I know a little about what is going on in your life right now. But, that's not why I purchased this book for you, packaged it up, and it now sits hear ready to be mailed to your house.

I purchased it because God told me to do so.

A loving neighbor turned me on to A Holy Experience. Apparently, she stumbled across it and thought I would love it from the perspective of a Christian. And a writer. The style of the blog is not something to which I naturally gravitate, but I'm a good listener. There must be some reason I was being led there. So I visited. And read. And got hooked.

The phone rang a few days ago. I had a conversation with a friend about an enormous tragedy in her life. One that happened months and months ago. While I've tried to contact her to offer my condolences and pray with her, I also knew she needed time. Plus, the nature of our friendship is so deep that I knew, in time, we'd connect. We did. This week. For hours.

Upon hanging up, I went to A Holy Experience to read a new post, and my eyes were led to the advertisement for the author's new book.

"Buy it for her."

I obeyed. Knowing that the decision to purchase the book, wasn't mine. If you know me, you know I don't buy any books new - or at full price.

While at Amazon, I found myself purchasing two copies.

They arrived yesterday. I packaged one for my friend who shared her lament with me this week. She believes and knows that even in the violence that has occurred in the life of her family, God's presence is not merely near - but, rather, embracing her. There is pain. So much pain. But also so much trust. And an unexplainable joy that only comes from knowing Him.

I sat there staring at the second copy - thinking I would read it myself.

"Send it to her," was what I heard - referring to a second friend.

I packaged up the second book to be shipped.

A few thoughts: As I shared in earlier blog posts - I have this desire to give. Not just used clothes. Or items I no longer need. That's great. But my purging isn't solely for the purpose of cleaning my house or decluttering my life. My deepest desire is to be a part of God's desire to give LIFE. And while I've not read this book, I'm pretty convinced that there is something in there that these two women need to read.

God used the internet-wandering of my neighbor, to point me to a site I most likely would have never chosen to visit, to show me a gift that two friends needing encouragement would find joy in receiving.

How heavenly-orchestrated was that?

Listen.

I Left My Heart . . .

I left my heart on the floor of the Coffee Buzz where I gathered with my church family to watch the Steelers/Jets game last night.

I grew up in a Redskin family.

I remember sitting in the family room on Sundays listening to my entire family cheer while I sat there - uninterested.  Although I DID see the game where Theisman broke his leg.  That was way gross.

So, now, here I am.  In Steeler country.  With a 10 year old Steeler-fanatic for a daughter.  A child who plans her Steeler clothing for each Sunday, and made it clear that she needed her jeggings and Polamalu jersey clean and ready for game day yesterday.

A daughter who dressed in full Steeler fashion for her birthday party (as did other girls).

A daughter who took the front and center seat at a Steeler-viewing party last night, terrible towel and bad-call brick by her side.

I, on the other hand, arrived at the party having NEVER watched a full game all the way through.  Yes, I did watch the Steelers win the Superbowl back in 2008 - spurts of it anyway.  We had just told the children we were moving to Pittsburgh, and so I thought it only proper we watch the game.  I'll admit - I was VERY impressed.  Wow'd.

But, no, I've never continued the practice of sitting and watching an entire game.

Until last night.

Oh. My. Word.  How do you people do it?

My heart was racing.  I was up and down from my chair.  I was shh'ing children.  I was yelling about some play NOT being pass interference and that the ref better not call it that way (how'd I even know about pass interference?).  I watched all of it.  The second half about killed me.

I simply can not live this way.  I was anxious. Tense. Impatient. Ready to fly off the handle.

All the traits I've worked so darn hard to decrease over these past 1.5 years flew right back to the surface during the AFC Championship game.

As I told George, "Ok, I'll do the playoffs.  I'll even watch the Superbowl.  But I can NOT do a whole season of this.  No way.  It will kill me."

So, I'll continue to be that person who wanders in and out of the room during a Steelers game.

Except for the Superbowl.

I'll be front and center.

Don't get in my way.

On the Eve of Having a 10 Year Old

I look forward to it every year.

And then I tear up.

See, it took me 10 years of marriage before God laid it upon my heart to have children.

The day I finally told George I was ready, by sharing with him that I really liked the diaper pack made my Eagle Creek, he was shocked.  And elated.

And then came Harper.

Recently, I interviewed her for PittsburghMom.  I'm not one of those Moms who does this every year or keeps track of their answers when I do remember to interview my kids.  This, year, however, I did remember to climb up in her loft bed to interview her.  I had a post due - Harper would serve as my topic.

The answer to one question in particular really got my attention and affirmed what God had been telling me lately.  Harper shared that her favorite thing to do with me, is sit in her bed at night to talk.

We used to do this all the time when she was younger, but this special time has been happening less and less due to my schedule.  However, since beginning a 30 day organizational challenge taught by Chalene Johnson (who I consider to be a fantastic business coach), I have made enormous changes to how I balance working from home AND turning the work OFF during Harper's bedtime.

Last night, as we sat chatting, I was able to share with her a story that I had never told anyone.  Even George.  It was regarding something that happened to me as a very young Christian (13 or 14) that I truly believe was a physical, visual sign from God that He loved me and that He was indeed real.

"Wow.  That is really cool.  And a little creepy" was her response.

I also shared with her how I wasn't particularly kind when I was a 4th grader like her.  In fact, I could be a bit of a snob.  In 5th grade, I'm ashamed (and forgiven) to say that I was awful to a girl in my class for the better part of the whole year, only to learn later on that her father was physically abusive to her.

Ouch.  Such guilt.

We talked about God's forgiveness - me and my girl, and she thanked me for sharing with her.

"You need to tell me this stuff more often.  'Cause I'm not like you were in 4th grade."

No, Harper, you aren't.

You are kind.  You are funny.  You are sad when people are sad.  You are positive.  You are dramatic (yes, honey, you are - sorry - you have my blood).  You are brave.  You are creative.  You also get nervous some times - but not like you used to - remember those days?

I love you, baby girl.

Yes, I said it.  BABY girl.  You were the first baby I ever had, and the picture above is my absolute favorite of you during your first week out of the womb.

I'll see you on your bed tonight, OK?