How To Have A Ridiculous Vacation Part II

So where were we? Oh riiiiiiiight. Yodeling tie-downs, possessed children and Munchkin Land.

Step Seven: Since you've now learned to always stake the tent and affix the rainfly (you quick learner, you), it's time for a new camping lesson: Always put your shoes inside the tent at night. Not that wearing soggy sneakers for days on end isn't a TOTAL HOOT.

Step Eight: In your enthusiasm to create memories in Memphis, forget the obligatory "headcount". It's ten o'clock in the morning. Ergo, you should still have a few caffeine-infused brain cells ricocheting around in your skull. 

Your tour guide will be duly impressed with your stupidity. 

Step Nine: Plan to experience Chicago's famous deep dish pizza (Remember: You're a ridiculous tourist AND this is practically on your foodie bucket list AND you're practically a pizza connoisseur). Do this on the weekend, and be overconfident in your ability to navigate the city. Bonus points for making the rest of your party wait AN HOUR (bless him) while all of Chicago honks at you for driving like the idiot out-of-towner that you are.

Step Ten: In lieu of a touching bedtime story, try a traumatizing one like "Once upon a time an hour ago, Daddy had to shoot a suffering deer. And everyone lived happily ever after. Except the deer. To summarize: Daddy killed an innocent woodland creature. Sooo...goodnight..." 

That'll go over like a lead balloon.*

Step Eleven: Eat questionable food, because you like to live dangerously.** Someone's apologies to the fellow patrons of every available ladies powder room along I-80 from Iowa to Colorado. 

Moving right along.

Step Twelve: With forty miles worth of gas registering in the tank, decide you'll "just wait for the next gas station". Oh yes. Sixty miles later, coast to a nice easy stop. It's a good day for a walk. Fortunately, your dumb shoes are dry.***


To be continued once more...because some people are just that ridiculous.

Anonymous Vacationer strikes again!



*Cue weeping and wailing of caterwaulic proportions. In order to know your story has been effective, children should be one minuscule step away from rending their garments and tossing ashes on their precious, tow-headed noggins.
**Hey! For some of us, playing "Potty Roulette" is living dangerously. I can't do this with you right now.
***When in New Mexico, always top the tank off when you see a gas station. By doing this, you avoid getting picked up by a Good Samaritan who may or may not have been lucid enough to remember the event (however, we were grateful for the lift).

How To Have A Ridiculous Vacation Part I

Since I'm all about imparting such special wisdom to you, I have some doozies from someone's vacation. Of course ours went off without a hitch, but whoever those poor suckers are sure made for great blogging fodder.

Poor, poor suckers.

Step One: Begin by going south instead of north. This will add approximately 2-3 extra hours of travel time to your day. Oh joy.

Step Two: Observe that your hard-shell cargo carrier appears to be break dancing on the roof. Pull over. Everything is tight. Continue driving at a snail's pace (still going south) to avoid losing all your camping gear along I-17. Stop at Auto Zone. Buy tie-downs. Breathe a sigh of relief. Roll back onto the freeway only to discover that the tie-down straps have an amazing musical ability when traveling at freeway speeds.* Decide sanity is optional. Pull over again. Wrap towels around the frickin' frackin' straps, and drive like the ghetto minivan family that you are. Bath towels wrapped around tie-downs, wrapped around a cargo carrier. It's gettin' real, folks.

Step Three: Disbelieve the toddler who vehemently swears she "really has to go". I don't even know why I have to explain this.**

Step Four: Well past the time you should have arrived at your first campsite, instead find yourself handing the nice State Trooper your license and registration and thanking him for the fix-it ticket.*** 

Step Five: Upon finally arriving at the campsite, throw the tent up in the dead of night, not bothering to stake it because you are operating on sheer mental fumes at this point. Logic and reason went to sleep hours ago. Obviously. But don't worry. After a few hours you'll be rested enough to realize your tent is blowing away and your children think they're halfway to the Land of Oz. 

Step Six: Learn from your first night. Always stake the tent, but decide that the weather is beautiful. With nary a cloud in sight who needs a rainfly? Only people who don't appreciate drying off with bug-encrusted towels that have traveled 900 miles wrapped around screeching tie-downs.

To be continued...

Signed,
Anonymous Vacationer




*And by "musical" I mean something akin to a chorus of dying walruses with a screech owl thrown in the soprano section. Special.

**Toddler: 3 Pants: 0

***One look into our half-crazed, bloodshot eyes should have been cause enough to haul out the breathalyzer. If that didn't do it, the disgruntled tween who glared unblinkingly (think Children of the Corn, people) at him for shining a light in the backseat, or the other stupefied children in various stages of discombobulation oughtta been cause for at least a call for back-up. Jesus obviously cloaked our true appearance from him. 

You Know It's Time To Blog When...

...Your blogging notebook is dog-eared, but hardly anything is crossed off.
...It's practically been forever two months since you last had a date with Blogger.*
...Your mom resorts to calling you to see if you're OK.
...You're suffering from Blogger's Guilt Syndrome.**
...Friends send "Did you and Blogger break up?" messages to your inbox.
...You've missed reading the spammed comments on Friday nights.***
...Family members suggest Feedly is "defective", because nothing from you is showing up in their blog list.

So if that describes you, get off your duff and blog already.


Kettle Calling The Pot Black,
Cynthia



*My last date with Blogger did NOT end well. He swallowed my entire post and left me with the bill. Not very gentlemanly. Here's to second chances, buddy.
**If you or a loved one is suffering from BGS, seek help. Reach out to someone with Wi-Fi and overcome your BGS today!
***Seriously a highlight for us around here, folks. It doesn't take much.

Making Independence Day Meaningful

John Adams' famous letter penned July 3, 1776, in which he wrote to his wife Abigail:

The Second Day of July 1776, will be the most memorable Epocha, in the History of America. I am apt to believe that it will be celebrated, by succeeding Generations, as the great anniversary Festival. It ought to be commemorated, as the Day of Deliverance by solemn Acts of Devotion to God Almighty. It ought to be solemnized with Pomp and Parade, with Shews, Games, Sports, Guns, Bells, Bonfires and Illuminations from one End of this Continent to the other from this Time forward forever more. You will think me transported with Enthusiasm but I am not. I am well aware of the Toil and Blood and Treasure, that it will cost Us to maintain this Declaration, and support and defend these States. Yet through all the Gloom I can see the Rays of ravishing Light and Glory. I can see that the End is more than worth all the Means. And that Posterity will tryumph in that Days Transaction, even altho We should rue it, which I trust in God We shall not.

And celebrate, we shall!*

Here are the challenges I'm throwing down:

1. Begin by referring to Thursday not as "July fourth", but as "Independence Day".
2. Before festivities, spend time in prayer for our amazing nation.
3. Read or listen to the Declaration of Independence.
4. Take a moment to soak in the looks of unbridled joy reflected on children's faces as they behold "Parade[s], with Shews, Games, Sports, Guns, Bells, Bonfires and Illuminations". It's the best show you'll catch tomorrow, guaranteed. 


Grateful and Proud,
Cynthia



*Two days later than Mr. Adam's predicted, but whatever.

Redecorating The Closet Door

With Boy Scouts of America's recent landmark decision now is as good a time as any to tackle a completely benign topic.*

Our church recently engaged in a highly transparent discussion on the issue of same-sex couples and the Church; A conversation more congregations would do well to have, and one I believe will help our church maneuver an unprecedented social issue. While we are not the first generation of churchgoers to address homosexuality, we most certainly are the first generation to navigate the choppy waters of integrating sound doctrine and inclusion of gays on a wide scale.

The maiden voyage is not going well. The flame of The Lighthouse is barely discernible.

Most of us have probably not shared a pew with an openly gay individual. However, there is a high probability we have sat next to someone who is grappling with their own sexual identity, but they sure as Hades aren't going to divulge such information during "sharing time". Why? As the nuclear family disintegrated we fabricated a new unpardonable sin. And oh the attention was fierce-some. We have bared our teeth, displayed impressive hackles and emitted guttural growls so as to leave no one unsure of our stance.

Well done, Church. Bravo.

Now that we've marked our territory, can we please move beyond snapping at each other? May I suggest we consider a new old approach? It's got a pretty good track record. I think it's worth a shot.

Love. It's a word so foreign to our tongues as we hoist our heterosexual banners higher into the air, but isn't it possible to simply love? No agenda, no judgment, no fear? Not only is it possible, but we have an excellent example in the unexpected friendship of Shane L. Windmeyer and Dan Cathy. If you haven't read this article, go. Read. Be challenged.

For it seems all chance of civility (let alone love) fly out the window as soon as "gay" enters the equation. It's as if all common ground hinges upon sexual orientation. You're gay. I'm a Christian. I guess we can't be friends after all. We have adopted such a polarizing "Us versus Them" mentality and it's horrifyingly toxic within and outside the Church. It's time to shrug off our condescension and disgraceful judgement and instead "Above all, put on love—the perfect bond of unity."**

When we put on love, we cease to identify sin as the common denominator. There is a fundamental flaw in our dialogue when we conspiratorially admit "You know what? I sin too". "Huh. You don't say..." (accompanied by stony expressions and thin-pressed lips). We're attempting to have a point of connection, but this is not it. This is a faulty premise that undermines a central part of a homosexual's identity. A handy common denominator is that, as humans, we all happen to need love. A simple "I may not agree, but I'm sorry for how poorly the Church (and Christians therein) have handled this issue. I'm hoping you will give me a chance."

When we put on love, we cease to make conversion to heterosexuality our #1 goal. Most likely the majority of gay people I talk to are not going to sway from their opinions, and I know that I am not either. That's OK. Attempts to convert individuals to a heterosexual lifestyle will rarely end well. In the end, Christ's name is what ultimately gets dragged through the mud and we forfeit the greater battle. To turn the tables, I imagine very few of us have been (seriously) proselytized by someone gay.*** Therefore, it baffles me as to why Christians act suspicious as though gays are lurking in the shadows, waiting to pick off the weak heteros in the herd.

When we put on love, it does not mean our position is altered. Welcoming friendships with the gay community does not indicate a soft stance on homosexuality; It indicates a gracious and humble stance. All of the studies we've read and statistics we've heard from the pulpit are no less valuable and insightful. However, they are just as potent on the back burner. Let's let them simmer until they are savory and instead allow love to burn brightly in the foreground.

We can yet be the generation to turn the tide.



Eyes On The Lighthouse,
Cynthia






*That whole "Don't talk religion or politics" advice was before the dawn of the blogosphere. Game changer.
**Colossians 3:14
***And sober. One too many drinks doesn't count.

Why All The Silence?

I haven't meant to neglect you. In fact, my fingers are practically bursting with words to type to you all! There has hardly been a moment to gather scattered thoughts into strings of words that (at least) loosely resemble sentences. 

Our crew has been working overtime on a little undertaking that is an answer to prayer. And by "little" I mean kinda big. I'm not smooth with the big reveals, so I won't attempt a glamorous build-up. For now, suffice to say we find ourselves in need of additional funds to cover some costs of the "family building" nature. 

"Debt free" has been a common phrase in our prayers over the last year. As we move forward, we desire to keep that monkey off our backs. Can I get an "AMEN!"? Remember Gideon and that whole dew/fleece bit? Folks, our fleece has been bone dry and soggy alike.* First sign from God: A substantial surprise check in the mail. Dew on the fleece. Second sign: Our dear friends/landlords called to say they were sacrificially lowering our rent. Dew on the ground. Third sign: A home-based business purchase practically lands in my lap. 

"The Angel of the Lord extended the tip of the staff that was in His hand and touched the [the offering]. Fire came up from the rock and consumed [it]. Then the Angel of the Lord vanished from Gideon's sight."

We offered Him our flawed, crazy family and he touched it with His holy, consuming fire. 

And that is the reason for my silence. 

(insert awe-inspiring segue)

So without further ado (and absolutely no shame for self-promoting), I present to you Lil' Outlaws! We own this little gem of a business and are jazzed by the response we've already received. If you have babies with butts, we've got you covered (along with a host of other uses**). I'll spare you the five minute spiel if you promise to go check it out, m'kay? Four words to pique your interest: Fruit Loop Laundry Detergent. 

Lil' Outlaws

Blessed In Abundance,

Cynthia



*If you think I've finally gone off my rocker, just go check out Judges 6 to get the lowdown. 
**Who knew ointment for butts could be so beneficial for cracked heels and gardener's hands? 

Seven Signs Your Friend Has Left The Building

My good buddy Normal C. has hung around long enough. See what I did there? I know my corny wit can be intoxicating. 

Without further ado...

Seven signs Normal C. has left the building:

1. You reluctantly do the Hokey Pokey at story time, hoping you don't accidentally bust out with "Heeeeeeey Macarena!"

2. You decide it's not worth it to wash poopy undergarments, and make an executive decision to toss 'em. Don't judge me.

3. You use a nursing pad for a bookmark.*

4. You use whatever leftover makeup is already in your makeup brush.

5. You swell with pride when your child brings you a plastic prototype of her "Wedgie of Fire" concept.

6. You go all ninja mode when the doorbell rings.**

7. You check to make sure everyone is breathing before you retire to bed. Baby, children, husband, dogs...the whole enchilada.***



Happy Monday,
Cynthia




*Oh relax. It was clean.
**You know what I'm talking about.
***This follows the door lock check, because what's the point of making sure everyone's alive if a a serial killer is going to waltz through the front door like he owns the joint? You're welcome.