Talk About A Snow Job

I woke up to a soft blanket of glittery white covering everything in sight. . . Nashville's most beautiful snowfall in years. I immediately took Chopper outside, who used his snout like a snowplow to eat his way through the yard. I found an undisturbed place on the deck where I could gather up the cleanest snow, free of dirt and twigs (or worse), to make my favorite treat: snow ice cream. It all brought back so many warm memories of cold winter days from my youth.

Where my sisters and I grew up in West Texas, the landscape was as flat as a pancake. Whenever it snowed, we had to go to the closest overpass just to find a slope steep enough for us to sled. But with no real hills for sledding, nobody had a real sled either. So the older neighborhood boys improvised one by tying a rope to their Jeep and dragging us around on a trash can lid. . . through traffic! Why we didn't get flattened dead like roadrunners I'll never know. I guess the boys—and us girls too—thought because we were young, we were also invincible. Our parents sure didn’t know about our death-defying adventures. To cover up the truth (and to keep from getting grounded) we told them we were out building snowmen for kids who couldn’t go outside because they were too sickly. Talk about a snow job.

Other times my sisters, my friends and I would hide in the bushes and throw snowballs at passing cars in hopes that they would chase us. As little girls we knew if a car actually stopped, all we had to do was start crying and they wouldn’t tell on us. Talk about a snow job.

The best time for our snowball fights was right after the holidays. All the old Christmas trees were left in the alleys. We would gather up as many as we could find to build forts, using them as our shields. It was all-out war. If anyone asked what we were doing with the trees we would say we were stacking them up to help the trash man. Oh boy, talk about a snow job.

As kids, we got away with quite a few snow jobs. All in good fun, or so we told ourselves. Today I see it more from a heavenly perspective: the innocence of youth as fresh as newly fallen snow, each of us as unique as snowflakes, all drifting our own way in and through the storms. . . those that came and those still yet to come. Like a pure white blanket, Jesus covers our dirt-filled imperfections until we're sparkly clean and all the more beautiful to view. Talk about a snow job! How grateful I am for a forgiving snowfall, grateful for how it covers everything (past, present and future), and most grateful to the One who sends it.

Lost Cat, No Tail

Okay, I admit it: I have absolutely no sense of direction. Some would say it’s because I have no sense at all. I get disoriented quite easily and quite often. I once looped around a drive-thru restaurant and got lost by the time I came out the other side. Then I drove in the wrong direction for thirty miles before I figured out my error. From now on, should I ever get stranded on some deserted highway, I'll be more prepared. I'll put on a few extra pounds so I can survive by living off my fat and always carry a backup supply of emergency snacks. I may forget to bring the maps but I'll never forget the treats.

All my hours spent wandering around aimlessly has given me a heart for the lost. . . literally. The other day when I was walking my dog Chopper I saw this sign posted on the mailboxes:

Lost Cat, No Tail
Missing Tag
Friendly

My first thought was, ‘I need to let everyone know that Chopper had nothing to do with the loss of the tail.' I wondered just how many flyers I would have to write that on! And for the record, Chopper had nothing to do with the cat being M.I.A. He doesn’t have to eat cats: we have those emergency snacks. I must confess, I have eaten his treats by mistake and I'm sure they could hold us over during a starvation situation or a snow day, but they definitely need more sugar.

My second thought was, 'How would I be described if I got lost?' (or should I say when I get lost?)

Lost Redhead, No Tale
Missing Eyebrow
Friendly Unless Provoked (Easily Provoked)

What if I were only described by what I lacked? Hmmm, like my self-control over cheese, my ability to resist a sale, and my not-so-common sense. Yikes. Not to mention how I fall short on patience, kindness, and faithfulness. Whoa, that is harsh. If I want to be described any better than that, I'll need to fast forward to the last impression I leave and work backwards from that.

I'm learning that the best way to produce the fruits of the Spirit in my life is to begin cultivating them in my heart. If I am filled with the fertile soil of love then I truly will be known as loving, and not just in name. What is lost can be found. The end result is a new heart and a new sign:

Found Redhead, New Tale
Still Missing Eyebrow
Friendly, Less Easily Provoked

I Wish I Hadn't Done THAT

Life is good news and bad news, hilarity and heartbreak, love and loss all back-to-back. I like to blend mine into a swirl that makes me so dizzy I have to laugh. If I can snicker at my lamebrain disasters, then you can too. . . but please join me in laughter only and not the disaster!

I started this new year with a list of ways I would be positive and work extra hard to become the best possible version of myself. As a reminder NOT to repeat my mistakes of yesteryear, I thought it might be helpful to make a list of ways I wish I hadn't fallen, tripped or smashed regrettably into impossible situations. So here are my very own Lori Stories, a/k/a Top Ten Mistakes Not To Make:

1. I wish I hadn’t gnawed a big bite out of the Communion bread by mistake, sneaked it back to my seat and eaten the whole loaf in a panic, bringing Communion to a screeching halt.

2. I wish I hadn’t used a razor to do a tweezer’s job, leaving me with one eyebrow shaved off and forcing me to draw it back on for the next three months.

3. I wish I hadn’t eaten the entire case of candy Red Hots I bought off the Internet, giving me a hideous body rash. . . not to mention packing on five extra pounds.

4. I wish I hadn’t done that body builder’s workout, adding an extra inch to my neck and losing a whole inch off my bust.

5. I wish I hadn’t yelled, “DROP IT MONKEYBOY” when my dog ran off with my socks at the exact same time the garbage man was lifting my trash out of the can. . . and me lamely muttering, “You know I LOVE monkeys??” (Trash man not amused.)

6. I wish I hadn’t dyed my hair all white (by mistake of course), then correcting it to bright Bozo orange. . . trying four more times to fix it until entire chunks of hair broke off at the scalp.

7. I wish I hadn’t gone skiing without lessons, wearing my ski boots on the wrong feet ALL day long. . . in front of friends who never seem to forget anything (and tell everything).

8. I wish I hadn’t worn a tight skirt to the mall. . . with toilet paper hanging down my back like a tail, then waved at people on the escalator who tried to point out the problem (me thinking everybody sure is friendly today).

9. I wish I hadn’t fallen into a manhole, landing on a water meter and then hobbled home. . . dragging one bloody leg like the Bride of Frankenstein.

10. I wish I hadn’t hung up on The White House back when I was a receptionist (thinking it was a prank) saying, “Right, we’re too busy, call back later.”

It sure is encouraging to know that happiness follows suffering after awhile. It even says so in Scripture: “Weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning.” I cling to that one, laughing and learning along the way. Just so you know how these disasters turned out: the rash cleared up (eventually), the eyebrow and bald spots grew in (finally), the wounds healed (more or less) and The White House did call back (and I didn't get fired!)

It's taken awhile for me to see the humor in my mistakes, but sometimes I wish these stories just weren't true. Imagine what it's like for me to wake up in a cold sweat, only to realize the dream I was dreaming was actually real? Yeah real funny, as long as you don't mind being a one-eyed, orange-haired, rash-ridden girl with her boots on the wrong feet.

Monkeyboy

Words are so very powerful. You can encourage, elevate and enlighten with a single statement. They can also be used in the negative to devastate, discourage and destroy. And sometimes words are used by a lamebrain to set off a mind-boggling sequence of events without any intention or forethought. If you've followed any of my previous escapades, it’s not hard to figure out what category I fall into.

A perfect example would be the day that my dog Chopper ran off with my freshly washed socks. I chased him outside and around the backyard. Chopper thought we were playing a game of tag and (as usual) I was “IT.” The closer I would get the faster the little chimp would run, giggling with his eyes, taunting me in his game of chase. I finally lost my patience after a few dizzying rounds through the patio furniture and yelled out, “DROP IT MONKEYBOY!!!” Unfortunately at the very moment the words left my mouth, in perfect timing like a synchronized swimmer, the trashman was lifting the garbage bag out of my can. I was totally unprepared to deal with the fact that the trashman would think I was yelling at him! We all froze like, well...like monkeys. In my state of shock the only thing I could think to say with a weak little smile was, “I like monkeys??” He was not amused. I couldn't stop to explain myself any further when I had a sock thief to catch.

I wanted to make up for my outburst. I tried to think of a note I could write: “Dear Sir: you are not a monkey. You are more like a bear.” Hmmm, I’m pretty sure that was a compliment but it was just too weird. My second attempt: “Dear Sir: You are doing a great job. I was not yelling at you, I was yelling at my dog.” Nope, I sounded like a crazy lady who yells at sweet little puppies. Instead I decided to try and encourage him the next time he came to my house with a wave, a thumbs up and cheerful chant of “Nice work!” The following week he transferred out of my neighborhood.

After that day I started to think about the consequences of a single statement. Words should not pop out of my mouth randomly like candy from a gumball machine. Psalm 19:14 says “May the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be pleasing in Your sight. Oh Lord, my Strength and My Redeemer." That says a lot. Meditate on things that are positive, healing and encouraging. Then when the words roll out from the overflow of the heart they are words that bring life and love. I’m a bit more cautious with words now, at least as far as how I use them in my neighborhood. Our mailman’s nickname is Rabbit, but you'll never hear me calling him that!

Creature Comforts

I felt a twinge of sadness this week as I remembered my mother on what would have been her 77th birthday. Even though her passing was 23 years ago, I still miss her all the time. I especially feel her presence at Christmastime. I remember one year when I was a little girl Santa brought me a large wooden dog that walked when you pulled it on a string. The next morning my mother discovered that I had put Santa's gift in the bed to sleep with me. It wasn't exactly comfy—actually it was downright painful—but I wanted to be as close as I could get to my new little friend. Why my parents didn't give me a stuffed animal after that I'll never know.

Yesterday I was so happy to receive a special Christmas surprise from a friend who must really know me. It was a basket filled with wonderful and interesting treasures. The one item that couldn't escape my attention was the cutest little sock monkey which I promptly named Joaquin (seemed like the perfect name to me.) It's funny how receiving something like this transported me immediately back to my childhood. Last night at bedtime I wanted to put the whole basket in the bed with me, just like I did with that wooden dog. (One thing I have learned as a grown-up is not to sleep on hard objects. It can leave a scar, poke an eye out or heaven forbid, create a new wrinkle.) I opted to let the sock monkey—sweet little Joaquin—sleep in the big bed with me and my real-life dog Chopper (strategically on opposite sides of course). I think my mother would have smiled to see that I am still that same little wide-eyed girl with special gifts tucked beside her in bed.

Every year I share the holidays with people I love, creating new memories. I hope I never stop enjoying the gifts of Christmas with childlike wonder. It still amazes me how God uses events of the present to trigger memories from the past, especially those feelings of home that remain in my heart no matter where I am. I may be a grown woman (no snarky remarks please) but I will always be somebody’s child. I was blest with earthly parents who set my heart in motion and a Heavenly Father who will carry me through my days. . .and a sock monkey to remind me not to take myself too seriously.

Happy YOU Year

Every year I pick only one New Year’s Resolution to follow because that way I have to do it. It hangs over me like a cranky schoolmarm ready to guilt trip me if I get out of line. One year I resolved to lose weight, which thankfully, I did! However, I forgot to add the most important part of the phrase: Lose weight AND don’t GAIN weight (which I also did.) By the end of the year I had gained 25 pounds, AND lost 26 pounds which technically kept my resolution and the inner schoolmarm away from emotional eating binges.

The next year I was walking around saying, “I just wish someone would help me come up with a good resolution because poor little ole me is just too tired and uninspired to think of anything.” Then it hit me: I resolve not to be SO manipulative! It worked out well because I had the word SO in the statement to cover me in case I had to weasel my way through an emergency. An emergency like asking the question: “Does this outfit make me look fat?”…which is followed either by a compliment or by finding a new friend… an easy-to-manipulate, complimentary new friend.

This year I resolve to follow what Jesus called the most important commandments: To love God with all your heart and love others as yourself. I am calling it Happy YOU Year. I will say to myself every day: YOU will be the best possible version of yourself. YOU will love more, give more and be more this year. YOU will be the finest possible representative of Christ wherever you are. This year I want to celebrate Jesus all year long. This year will be less about me and more about YOU, dear Lord.

Christmas Is Over

This year I spent Christmas in Texas with my Dad and my hometown peeps. One friend I went to visit had a beautiful holiday light display in their yard. The brightly colored bulbs covered the trees and lined the driveway. As I drove up the circular drive I heard a strange pop, pop, pop as I ran over ALL of the lights with my car. I guess it was just my subtle way of saying Christmas is over! I went from there to visit another friend (since the last friend I visited was now busy replacing lights) and I stayed right through dinner until I had finished off ALL his Christmas goodies (uninvited of course.) Just my way of saying Christmas is over! Later, I made a special batch of my chocolate peanut butter candy. Before I could package it to give away, I tripped in the kitchen and threw it ALL on the floor. Just my way of saying Christmas is over!

For me, every Christmas is long anticipated and thoroughly enjoyed. I spend it visiting family and friends with gifts, meals and stories. The day after Christmas everything changes. I click off the Christmas music, take down the tree and put away the remnants of the season. I pack away all the external signs of what Christmas means. But these new stories, the bonds of laughter, the prayers and hymns shared stay with me. The spiritual gift continues into a new year with a special peace, like how a candle scent lingers long after its flame is extinguished. Once Christmas is over and all the decorations of the season have been taken down and put away (or, in my case, run over), I want Christ's sweet presence to remain for ALL of my days.

How Neighborly Of Me

I have been very busy this week getting ready for Christmas. I came outside yesterday and noticed the Christmas lights my neighbor had carefully placed on our bushes had fallen off. Being the self designated neighborhood police, I meticulously replaced them back to where they were originally. After dark I realized that the neighbor had moved the lights on purpose because some of them were burned out!! Now I'm repositioning them... again...under the watchful eye of a confused neighbor. This situation would not have been nearly as bad if he hadn't been the same neighbor whose grapevine I yanked down because I thought it was a weed..twice. Doing everything in duplicate (that is not my job in the first place) is keeping me very busy.

It is a Biblical Principle to do my best to love my neighbor as myself. It is a Principle of Survival that my neighbor does his best to maintain a safe distance. Maybe I will just love my neighbor period and leave myself out of it. Maybe next year I invite the neighbor over to see if we can decorate the neighborhood together, double the fun and not the efforts. First I want to finish trimming this grapevine.

The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year

It's that time of year again, that season when the jingle of bells and the clicking of credit cards is ringing in my ears as I shop, shop, shop until I drop, drop, drop. I actually love it. It’s The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year is continually looped in my brain as I wander through shopping malls looking for that special gift.

I try to be creative in my selections, which works against me some of the time. Like the year I gave my parents matching rugby shirts. Umm, first of all, who really wants matching clothes...and who really plays rugby…with their spouse? Another year I gave my dad a lamp with a face on it…apparently people don’t like to be stared at by their own furniture first thing in the morning! Why my family still speaks to me is a mystery. I should have taken the hint when they said; “We don’t really need anything unique this year." But no, I don’t take hints. I just keep going like some cranked-up elf on the ultimate quest to find that perfect present. I haven’t found it yet but I am definitely starting to exhaust the possibilities of what is NOT the perfect gift. And I won’t stop, stop, stop until I drop, drop, drop.

I’m not the only one confused by the gifting. Like when an artsy-craftsy person gave me a Santa head made out of a Clorox bottle. Okay...nice, I’ll keep it right next to... where I keep the Clorox! It certainly is…cheerful…with those jiggly eyes that roll around. Someone spent their valuable time making it and I can only hope they had fun doing it. They do get extra points for recycling… which I plan to do as well: Dad’s lamp will have a friend to look at.

Giving is a sweet way to show appreciation, but the Christmas season is so much more than that. What truly makes the holidays special to me is when I hear people freely singing praises to Jesus and telling the wonder of His birth. Intentional or not, it is amazing to hear strangers wishing strangers a "Merry Christmas", speaking the name of the Savior in the spirit of love and giving. Even those who seek to take Christ out of Christmas via political correctness gone astray cannot completely eliminate the real reason for the season. Jesus is still the gift and what we give Him in return is to remember others in our lives with love and appreciation, maybe not with gifts that can stare back at us but with simple gestures that show we care. To me, that’s what makes it the most wonderful time of the year.

Might As Well Face It

My sister Sheri and I made our annual trip to the beach this Thanksgiving. It's the best time of year for me to go when the autumn sun is not so intense and there is the least amount of glare off my pale skin. Even in the Fall, I have to slather up in a white pasty mask of 60 spf sunscreen just to keep from blistering my ivory complexion. Now when I get a look (some might call it an incredulous stare), I can tell people are trying to sort out why an Irish-looking gal is wearing that Japanese Kabuki makeup…like some mime at the beach. Might as well face it, I'm not quite the bathing beauty I see in the magazines.

Sheri and I made our traditional chicken & dressing casserole for the big day, along with green beans, fruit salad, cranberry sauce and hot rolls. Way too much food for two people, but what's a girl gonna do? After all, Thanksgiving only comes once a year and I measure my gratitude by the pound. As I loaded up my plate I made my first helping STUPID high. I just looked at my sister and said, “Might as well face it” and I put the amount on my plate that I was really going to eat. Yep, I actually ate it all and then went back for more, repeating my new catch phrase with each course like a disclaimer. Stupid high extra dressing: Might as well face it. Stupid high dessert: Might as well face it. Stupid high coffee: Might as well face it. Time for a nap, might as well take that stuffed face to the pillow for awhile.

When I woke up, I decided I might as well NOT face the fact that the clothes I was wearing before the nap now no longer fit. Since it was Thanksgiving, I gave special thanks for the man who invented elastic. I thought I could take my Kabuki self to the beach and walk it off…well maybe if I walked for 16 hours..in a sauna belt: I'm not sure if my sister could even have faced that.

So, is there a spiritual message in all this stuffing and dressing? I’ll try to serve one up. Like how often I fill my plate stupid high with things I don’t really need and drown in the excess. How often I load heaven up more with prayers of help than with words of thanksgiving. Might as well face it, the Lord is always faithful to give me what I need when I need it, and in my experience, not much before then either. He saves me from myself and how I am thankful for that. Well, that and elastic.