My Grandma Is With Jesus

Florence Marie (Hearte) Rees, my grandma, went to be with Jesus on Sunday, February 14. She has been in hospice care for a long time and suffering a great deal. But now that suffering has ended and I praise God that this Godly woman is forever healthy and rejoicing.

She was my spiritual mentor, my friend, and a Proverbs 31 woman. For 35 years I gleaned her wisdom, wit, love. Our love was as mutual as our love for gravy and lemon meringue pie (but not at the same time).

My greatest peace is knowing that when she did die there were no words left unsaid between us, months ago she had even asked me to tell her goodbye at that point in case she could not do so later. She then laid hands on me and blessed my marriage, my family, and my walk with Christ. I ask you, how often do we get such selflessness in life? She gave me all she had then so I could grieve in advance and begin to prepare myself for her death. What a gift!

She died peacefully at my parents' home. I sat by her side for a good length time before they moved her from the home. It was an honor to read Scripture, sing her favorite hymns, and sprinkle rose petals around her bed. In our culture we often think if death as terrifying, or unsightly. Yet for me this was one of the most beautiful, peaceful experiences of my life. I liken it to the birth of my children, the difference being that my grandma was delivered to Jesus' side. For a woman who saw me at my best and worst - and gave me all she had - this was the least I could do.

She will be laid to rest in Ft Meyers, Florida, with my grandpa (who was equally awesome). As her legacy she leaves behind her daughter, Linda and her husband Harold Taylor, Lisa and Eric Howard, me and Dan and 5 adorable, though delightfully silly, great grandchildren. We all adored her. Pray that her death will help bring my mother to the Lord.

The following is the Scripture I read at her bedside as I said my final goodbyes:

Psalm 116
1 I love the LORD, for he heard my voice;
he heard my cry for mercy.
2 Because he turned his ear to me,
I will call on him as long as I live.
3 The cords of death entangled me,
the anguish of the grave [a] came upon me;
I was overcome by trouble and sorrow.
4 Then I called on the name of the LORD :
"O LORD, save me!"
5 The LORD is gracious and righteous;
our God is full of compassion.
6 The LORD protects the simplehearted;
when I was in great need, he saved me.
7 Be at rest once more, O my soul,
for the LORD has been good to you.
8 For you, O LORD, have delivered my soul from death,
my eyes from tears,
my feet from stumbling,
9 that I may walk before the LORD
in the land of the living.
10 I believed; therefore [b] I said,
"I am greatly afflicted."
11 And in my dismay I said,
"All men are liars."
12 How can I repay the LORD
for all his goodness to me?
13 I will lift up the cup of salvation
and call on the name of the LORD.
14 I will fulfill my vows to the LORD
in the presence of all his people.
15 Precious in the sight of the LORD
is the death of his saints.
16 O LORD, truly I am your servant;
I am your servant, the son of your maidservant [c] ;
you have freed me from my chains.
17 I will sacrifice a thank offering to you
and call on the name of the LORD.
18 I will fulfill my vows to the LORD
in the presence of all his people,
19 in the courts of the house of the LORD—
in your midst, O Jerusalem.
Praise the LORD. [d]

Do Not Anger The Man Behind The Screen

To Hell In A Haiti Basket

200,000 estimated dead from the Haitian earthquake.
250,000 estimated injured.

Such devastation, and yet the statistics don't end with these numbers. With the potential for infectious disease looming the death and displacement numbers will likely skyrocket. For me it's heart wrenching.

But these statistics aren't nearly as disgusting as what I've seen in some Christian circles.

Here is a glimpse into the Christian conversations I've heard and seen.

Is this God's judgement on Haiti? (due to voodoo practices) This must be their call to repent.

Why should we help Haiti now? They've been content with poverty and lack of government as their standard. It's not our job to bail them out.

This is God's mercy - bringing death - to Haiti. (That's right, they're poor, put them out of their misery. Oh, and while we're at it, my grandma is in Hospice care. Let's help her out of her misery, too...)

I've had enough of this ridiculousness. Look again at the girl in the picture. Ask her if she need our flawed human intellect. Or does she need water, food, shelter, hope?

Pick nearly any moral cause and somewhere there's sweat dripping off the brow of those fighting against it. Yet here we have possibly the greatest natural disaster (in terms of causalities and displacement) we've seen in recent history and obscured theology threatens to override action.

Regardless of who we are, or any questions we have, one pivotal issue cannot be ignored: God loves the people of Haiti. Is there corruption in that country? Yes. Is the country riddled with poverty? Absolutely. Do voodoo and witchcraft practice obscure? No doubt. While spiritually these issues are significant it doesn't change the fact that Jesus came for the sick, the ones who need Him most.

Like many I wondered, "Why Haiti?" I think that's a normal question in the face of such suffering. There will always be circumstances that prompt us to ask God, "Why?" Yet, does knowing the answer to that question change our response? I hope not. Our job as Believers is to pray, to give, to serve, to love. Entertaining judgement over the circumstance accomplishes none of these. We are to be Jesus Christ to the hurting, regardless.

Action will always outweigh reflection. While contemplation is valid and allows us to learn, if we camp out there, we can spend too long sitting on our haunches and forget to do anything. Is it wrong to want to understand what happened in Haiti? No. But if understanding is our goal we're headed to hell in a Haiti basket.

Therefore, my dear brothers, stand firm. Let nothing move you. Always give yourselves fully to the work of the Lord, because you know that your labor in the Lord is not in vain. I Corinthians 15:58

Defined Abs (or Yoga Plan B)

This is a Stacy From Louisville Public Service Announcement. Watch carefully.

This is brilliant. To think, I got it on YouTube for free! Here I am, practically unable to feed my family due to pricey yoga classes, when this has been out there all along. I'm a horrible, selfish person. So I gave this a shot but all I could track down was a yellow highlighter. Unfortunately, my abs don't look as defined as much as they look like I've got hepatitas. Or stupidity. (Incidentally, there are strains of either one are incurable.)

Please make special notes of what is said at :23 and 1:33. Priceless. Kids, I'm telling you, it doesn't get better than this.

Hot Yoga: It Just Might Kill Me

For me, being ridiculous really isn't hard. I don't even have to try. Like an inoperable mole, it's just something that happens. That's why I need a blog. It's my attempt to reach out to all of cyber space and say, "Hey World! Guess what I did besides leaving the parking break on and calling my husband at work to have the car towed because, 'All the tires spin but one. Something is very wrong.'" (Yeah. That really happened.) (And yeah, something is really wrong. With me.)

My latest exercise in crazy started a week ago. Bikram Yoga's the name, torture's the game. In case you're not familiar imagine bike shorts, 105 degrees + 30% humidity and body contortions that rival Cirque Du Soleil. That's Bikram. And it's aggressive.

Then there's me. Completely allergic to all exercise. Overweight. Chronic pain sufferer with a keen sass. Despite our seeming incompatibility I decided to give Bikram a whirl because my current regimen of TV, couch, Twinkies wasn't producing the results I desired. Here's what happened...

Day 1

I got yoga shorts for today. When I put them on I suddenly realized I had overestimated what size to purchase. They were huge in the waist. No big deal, I thought, so off to class. Everything is fine until I start to sweat. My yoga mat sticks to me....and I try to turn around for a sitting pose....and my pants get yanked down midway on my butt. The instructor, who apparently hasn't seen my posterior hanging out, says, "Stacy, move as quickly as you can to the resting posture!" So I'm trying to do what he says while yanking on my shorts and focusing on my breathing. (I sincerely apologize to those of you who didn't want this visual. Keep in mind, I am not attractive and I was sweating like a pack mule.) With resolve, and repositioned shorts, I 'm determined to give it another shot. Why? Because I kinda like it.

Day 2

My facebook status reads: "Bikram yoga hasn't killed me. I only wish it had." Today was my 2nd day for yoga ever. I'm in so much pain. Sure, many people do yoga and live to tell about it. What I have to wonder is did any of these people ever not want to pull their limbs from their body and beat themselves with them until they died? Because that's how I'm feeling right now. Plus, fat and out the money I paid for a month of sessions.

Day 3

I master my first pose! Standing with my toes facing forward, I breathe in. Lift right foot off the ground and pull toward my abdomen. Insert right toe into left spleen. Focus and pray for God to kill me. Stepping over my open fractures, the instructor says I'm doing very well. Interestingly, I go a full 24 hours without a headache...for the first time in over 5 years. I'm going back.

Day 4

Are you kidding me? The room is 108 degrees. The humidity is cranked. I'm beet red. But what the crap?! I've morphed into Elastagirl. A year ago I literally couldn't walk across my living room. Today I can balance on the ball of my foot while draping my other leg around my neck like an unnecessary scarf. Okay, maybe not, but still. In 4 days my abs are slightly defined, my arms are stronger and rumor has it there's muscle in my thighs. I feel healthier. Maybe that's because I've made an effort. Or maybe because I'm endorphin drunk. All I know is that Bikram Yoga is amazing. It's super hard - but I can do it. For right now that's enough.

Here's a picture of me at my last class. Do you like my headband? Or is it too much?

Water Doesn't Break

Toys break. I throw them away.

Appliances break and are replaced.

Glass breaks. Dishes break. Fingernails break. Pencils break.

Cars break down.

Hearts, dreams, and the will can be broken. Yet with resolve they reassemble.

But what about a country? What happens when it breaks? Or, better said, what happens when literally and figuratively, people break? They rip at the seams. Their bodies are crushed. They die. Or they mourn, wailing over brokenness that can't be patched up, replaced, thrown out, or ignored.

On Tuesday Haiti broke. It broke into pieces from the inside out. The earth's massive shift caused calamity, potentially the worst disaster in human history. That's right. In. Human. History.

After reading a missionary's blog (link below) I understand that driving down the street resembles the scene in Hotel Rwanda when the jeep, thought to be hitting rough terrain, was actually running over bodies strewn in the street. I saw the scene from the movie and nearly vomited. Though based on a true story it was easy to tell myself, "It's just a movie." But it wasn't. And right now in Haiti there is no pause button, no luxury of hitting stop on a remote to gather ones senses. (Visit the Castillo Family 's blog. They work with Northwest Haiti Christian Mission .)

I cried for Haiti - three days ago, two days ago, yesterday, this morning. I cried for people I don't know, but love, because Christ in me is compelled to do so.

As I would look for news reports on websites I was stunned to see advertising along the borders. Companies selling jewelry, weight loss, entertainment news. And just like when I watched Hotel Rwanda I wanted to vomit.

Broken Haiti. Can you imagine? Heat, dust, stench, and no clean water. Not just a drop, but gallons heaped upon each other is what I pray for these people. Biblically speaking, water is symbolic for the Holy Spirit. In both ways, Haiti, may it be available to drink in. Drink it in deeply.

To ask why this happened, for me, isn't the point. What I'm more willing to pray is, "God, show me how to focus my prayers for Haiti because I'm at a loss." Then God confirmed my instincts.

Water. Give them water.

So, for Dan and I, that's what we're going to do. Some friends of ours who provide water for poverty stricken areas are headed to Haiti to provide permanent clean water solutions. We are backing them financially.

Ironically, water in itself, doesn't break. Just like the Holy Spirit, it is poured out to saturate whatever it touches.

Figuratively speaking I've been drenched in the water of Haiti. Maybe it's the tears of God. Regardless, my broken heart is a constant reminder to pray. With every pang that sears my chest it's a reminder to beg God for mercy.

For water for dry throats, for life.

For water of the Spirit to reign down, now and always.

God is with you Haiti. Today, may there be water, fresh and clean. Because water doesn't break.

How are you praying for Haiti?

Breathe Deep

In interest of simplicity, take this in. Then, breathe deep. (Turn up your speakers & don't let the intro throw you.)



How do you think you'd be different if you were willing to just breathe Him in? I'll go first. I'd be calmer. Just before I yell, get angry, or generally lose it, I'd stop. I'd stop and say no to the nastiness that makes me anxious or depressed. I'd stop, calm down, and breathe Him in. It's something He's teaching me right now.

How about you?

Resolutions, SFL Style

(for Lana and Leslie, thanks for the advice)

Since the Mayan calendar says the world will end in 2012 I figure I only have 2 years to go out in style. So this year I have made some resolutions that seem to suit me. I'm putting my best Christmas Shoes forward and here's what I've decided.

My resolutions include:

1)HOT yoga. Who wants to pay $150 to sweat like a pig? Me! I'm going to be Elastagirl, only much more sarcastic, with the only sequin yoga pants in the room. There are some compromises I have had to make for this to happen. The greatest sacrifice: bike shorts. It has been a life long theory that spandex is a privilege, not a right, and that any clingy clothing should come with a disclaimer (read: weight limit). As someone who could stand to lose more than a few pounds I am not a proponent of the big is beautiful theory. The idea that ultra tight clothing makes me more attractive is a lie from the pit of hell. Believe this: if it bulges, shakes, ripples, or cottage cheeses it will be covered, bound and moo-mooed. Period. Until now.

2) Raw foods. I bought a juicer. Why I haven't thought to start my mornings with a fresh glass of kale, garlic and beet juice is any one's guess. The bonus about beginning my day this way is from now on, no one will knows for sure if I have brushed my teeth in the last Milena. Sure, I could be juicing apples, oranges, pears, etc. but what's the fun in that? To be healthy I am choosing sweat(as mentioned above) and vowing to drink pungent vegetables that smell like puke in a bottle. So far, so good.

3) No pets this year. We thought about getting the kids a Guinea Pig. But then figured they probably taste like chicken so decided it was a waste. This will be a pet-dander free home for all of 2010, given that I don't forget to shave my armpits in July and August. Someone remind me.

4) More Bible, less TV. For years I have been trying to find the hidden Biblical meaning in "Desperate Housewives" but have failed. I'm thinking C.S. Lewis could have helped me but as of late he is still dead. I hate when that happens. In all seriousness, media is too prominent in my life. What if Scripture molded my thinking instead of Mario Lopez? Sure, there won't be as many delightful erectile dysfunction commercials but I think I will survive, but just barely. I'll let you know.

5) Less ignoring of children, specifically my own. Given that as I write this they are in the living room doing only heaven knows what with Sharpies, but still. When I'm not wrongly annoyed because they are "in my way" I find they are awesome. I enjoy their company more than the distraction I put before them. This is not a hard resolution, or at least not today anyway.

So there you have it. It's 2010 and I'm already on my way to being a better person. God inspires it and meets me right where I am when it seems like drudgery. For most, resolutions are fleeting, which is understandable. But if being sick of sin is motivation to keep going, then I'm going. Surely I'll mess up along the way but I'm good with it. It's all a process.

What are your resolutions?

Speaking of ED commercials, here's one for the road....

I'm Just Sayin'

Potential: Not Everyone Gets To Be An Astronaut When They Grow Up

(Good luck.)

12 Days of Christmas

Just one of the many reasons I love youtube. What's your favorite youtube video? Please leave some link love.

Blessings In The Mundane

(Today's post was written by my sister, Lisa. Not only does she get to be my sister, she is the wife of Eric, a minister to homeless and runaway youth in Indianapolis, IN. They have 3 girls, Addi (6), Makenna (3), & Cora (2). She is an exceptional wife and mother. But a gross cook. Just kidding.)

When I do laundry its a 1 time a week event. I like to call it laundry mountain. It consumes our basement and is a bit overwhelming in mass, but I would rather do it that way than some everyday. Yesterday I said to Makenna (3), "Makenna, who has been wearing all these clothes?" Of course she began to name us all in the house. Then I said "Who said we could wear all these clothes?" Makenna says "Jesus said we could"

Well, that floored me. Not because Makenna is so profound, but because of the implications of what she said. I know that the Lord used her at that moment to speak to me. At that moment I realized that she was right- Jesus is the one who has provided us all those clothes and cause of his abundant provision to us, I am to care for them in response to that provision. I realized how in a little thing like laundry I was being ungrateful to the Giver of all my things.

I am sharing this because I have been chewing on it the last couple of days. I am blown away by how, when I search my heart, I have an ungrateful attitude towards most of the mundane things I do each day. I get easily overwhelmed by the unending list of 'to do's. I never realized because I am actually doing them in response to the Lord's provision for what I have been given: I wash dishes/ unload the dishwasher(my least favorite thing on the planet) because we have dishes and food to eat, I vaccum because we have carpets that keep our feet warm and us comfortable, I change the sheets because I have a bed to sleep in, I stay home in my unglamorous glory everyday because Eric works hard for us, I scrub the bathroom because we have the opportunity to use toothpaste/ an indoor toilet, I pick up around the house because am blessed with a family, I clean out the van because I have a vehicle to drive. The list goes on and on.

Maybe this doesn't hit home for you. However I wanted to share in case it does.

Lisa

So, what about you? What do you care for out of God's provision? For me, out of God's provision, I try to keep my tongue in check. I can build God's Truth into my kids or I can rip them to shreds. Also, I cook every day, trying really hard to be frugal.

Ditto

I've made a decision. I'm giving up on people pleasing - there will be no perfect gift, meal, decorations or children for us this Christmas. "Dittos" of the world unite. Haven't you heard? "Average" is the new awesome. I'm going to be who He made me to be. Everything else is less than who He loves - it's true for me, it's true for you. Rest in a baby in a manger. Maybe together we'll find simplicity is divine.

Much love to you,

Stacy

Christmas Shoes - New & Improved!

Listening to the radio the other day the DJ said, "You're either going to need a tissue as you cry through this song or you will decide to adjust your spam filter. Here it is, "Christmas Shoes". Just a few notes into the song 2 things happened to me: 1) my ears started to bleed and 2) for a split second I wished I were Jewish. (Plus, I've always thought Dan would look hot in a yarmulke.)

I hate the song "Christmas Shoes". Do you feel the same way? Other than the song itself I have not real framework for the story. But based on the song alone here's what I gather...

There's a kid with a sick mom. She's going to die. So instead of comforting her as she dies he decides she won't be able to get into heaven unless she's well dressed. (Some women's ministry programs operate on this same premise. Just saying.) So he goes out to Footlocker on Christmas Eve. Instead of selecting a nice, sensible Hush Puppy, he selects some red, crystal encrusted Dior heels for about $450. He gets up to pay for the shoes, and even though he knocked over a 7-11 on his way over, he doesn't enough coin for the bling. So he deviously cons the guy behind him in line out of some mad cash. He buys the shoes. He shoves the receipt in his pocket. And laughs all the way home. He's taking them back the day after Christmas and pocketing the proceeds.

That's the way it should be anyway. I mean, seriously, people! Who wrote this song? I don't know if there are world religions that offer divine merit based on footwear, but maybe that's what they were thinking.

I toyed with putting the song and video to "Christmas Shoes" up today. But I wouldn't want you to think I endorse such behavior.

If someone were to haphazardly turn on the super sunny Christian radio station and hear "Christmas Shoes" they'd think we're a sad bunch. Maybe this is better.



(George, I would never dis you on Christmas. Steal your mousse, maybe. But never would I break your heart. E.V.E.R.)

So, what's your least favorite Christmas song?

Why Women Should Not Take Men Christmas Shopping

No one hates to go shopping more than my husband. So I do almost all of the Christmas shopping, which usually works to my advantage. Imagine Christmas morning in the Small household: our son, 6, is reveling in his new set of box cutters. Our daughter, 8, prances around in her new sequin tube top. Dan gets his 5th ratchet set because apparently 1 isn't enough. Then, Oh! Look! What's that small velvet box under the tree? (Which is his cue to find what's left.) "Honey," I say. "Read the card to me." He clears his throat. "To Stacy From Dan... I'm the world's luckiest guy. You are crazy hot!" (Which is what he would say if he were a wordsmith like me.)Well would you look at that? Dan got me a shiny ring for Christmas! Wasn't that nice of him? And especially generous considering we bounced the mortgage payment for December.

Given Dan's disdain for shopping, and that he has this in common with most men, I decided to share with you something a friend sent me. Consider it a reminder to let your spouse off the hook when it comes to selecting gifts.

WHY WOMEN SHOULDN'T TAKE MEN SHOPPING

After I retired, my wife insisted that I accompany her on her trips to Target.
Unfortunately, like most men, I found shopping boring and preferred to get
in and get out. Equally unfortunate, my wife is like most women - she
loves to browse. Yesterday my dear wife received the following letter
from the local Target.

Dear Mrs. Warner,

Over the past six months, your husband has caused quite a commotion in our
store. We cannot tolerate this behavior and have been forced to ban both
of you from the store. Our complaints against your husband, Mr. Warner,
are listed below and are documented by our video surveillance cameras.


1. June 15: Took 24 boxes of condoms and randomly put them in other
people's carts when they weren't looking.

2. July 2: Set all the alarm clocks in Housewares to go off at 5-minute intervals.

3. July 7: He made a trail of tomato juice on the floor leading to the women's
restroom.

4. July 19: Walked up to an employee and told her in an official voice,
'Code 3 in Housewares. Get on it right away'. This caused the employee to
leave her assigned station and receive a reprimand from her Supervisor that
in turn resulted with a union grievance, causing management to lose time
and costing the company money.

5. August 4: Went to the Service Desk and tried to put a bag of M&Ms
on layaway.

6. August 14: Moved a 'CAUTION - WET FLOOR' sign to a carpeted area.

7. August 15: Set up a tent in the camping department and told the children
shoppers he'd invite them in if they would bring pillows and blankets from
the bedding department to which twenty children obliged.

8. August 23: When a clerk asked if they could help him he began crying and
screamed, 'Why can't you people just leave me alone?' EMTs were called.

9. September 4: Looked right into the security camera and used it as a
mirror while he picked his nose. For 10 full minutes.

10. September 10: While handling guns in the hunting department, he asked
the clerk where the antidepressants were.

11. October 3: Darted around the store suspiciously while loudly humming
the 'Mission Impossible' theme.

12. October 6: In the auto department, he practiced his 'Madonna look' by
using different sizes of funnels.

13. October 18: Hid in a clothing rack and when people browsed through,
yelled 'PICK ME! PICK ME!'

14. October 21: When an announcement came over the loud speaker, he assumed
a fetal position and screamed 'OH NO! IT'S THOSE VOICES AGAIN!'

And last, but not least:

15. October 23: Went into a fitting room, shut the door, waited awhile,
then yelled very loudly, 'Hey! There's no toilet paper in here.' One of
the clerks nearly passed out.

This list feels pretty complete but what do you think? Any other reasons not to force the man in your life into Christmas shopping?

The Alternative Christmas Letter - SFL Encore

(Of all the posts I've written this is one of my favorites. I hope you enjoy it, too. Feel free to cut, paste, and send it out as your own. But change the picture first. You're probably more attractive anyway.)

Christmas brings out strange behavior. Case in point, the traditional Christmas letter. You know what I'm talking about. Or maybe you've even sent one yourself, I know I have. It generally goes something like this:

1) Pay a photographer $500 for 1 picture in which every member of your family looks perfect. Usually this involves matching Polos and lots of airbrushing.

2) Write an exaggerated narrative about family events over the past 12 months. For example, "Jill learned to color" becomes "Jill, though only 2, shows artistic promise as she boldly experiments with color and design". Or, "Life really sucked this year. The fact that we never heard from you once means you're a jerk" becomes "God is teaching us to depend on Him in this season of growth".

3) Send the photo and the letter to people you haven't seen in at least 3 years. Why? Because people who snub us deserve to know what they're missing out on: the perfection that is your family. Sure, you may have put the dog down this year but for the most part the year was without incident. Unless the kids poisoned the dog. In which case, your kids my look perfect but, trust me, they're headed to Juvie.

I must admit, we get lots of these traditional Christmas letters. Wanna hear a secret? (Lean in close to the screen - I'm whisper-typing.) We don't always read them. They get old and boring and...well...we really don't care how great a soccer player your kid is.....or how your new job as hot dog vendor at Weenie Hut is amazing....or how very cozy you feel in your Snuggie. I just don't care.

So, in response to the throng of Christmas letters that flood our mailbox every year, our family has chosen The Alternative Christmas Letter approach. What you are about to read is the actual Christmas photo and letter we are sending this year. But I wanted to share it with you first.

Dear Family and Friends,

Merry Christmas! We wanted to send you a letter to let you know what we’ve been up to this last year.

We still live in a house. It is in Kentucky. We live close to some family members, but far away from others. We try to get together. Sometimes it works out and we have fun. Other times it does not.

This year we all had birthdays. We have a tradition where we give gifts and have cake. Sometimes we have ice cream, other times we do not. We also blow out candles, which is nice. Every person gets cake because it is good to share.

Dan has a job. He works hard. He gets up, goes to work, works all day and comes home just before dinner. Most days he does this, some days he does not. On the days he does not work he is sick or it is a weekend or maybe even a holiday.

Both kids are in school. Our daughter wakes up every day. So does our son. They put on clothes, eat breakfast, and get in the car. They go to school and stay until they are picked up. They also eat lunch nearly every day when they are hungry.

Stacy stays home some days. Some days she goes out to the store. She buys food and sometimes even underwear or shoes for the kids. Most days she makes dinner. Some days we eat chicken. Other days we eat beef or sandwiches. Usually there is a vegetable but not always. When dinner is ready we like to eat it. We use forks except for when we have soup.

We had all four seasons this year. In the winter it was cold for the most part. Some days it snowed. We would look outside and say, “Look. Snow.” We enjoyed saying this. Then we had spring. Some days it was warmer, other days it was not. Then summer came. When it was hot we would come inside. When we did this we might have a cold drink or say, “It’s hot today.” But we did not say that every day, just some days. Then it was Fall. We had colder weather. The leaves came off the trees. “Look”, we said. “Leaves.”

We went to church a good amount. We sang songs. We listened to people talk. We tried to be happy about what they say. The kids learnd about God and use plenty of glue. Sometimes there are even puppets.

Some of you are nice to us. We try to keep in touch. If you send a letter we will read it. If you call we will answer the phone. We like to say things like “Hello” and “How are you?” Being nice is good.

It has been so good to catch up with you. Merry Christmas.

Have a nice day,

The Smalls

An Interview With Satan

I'm sure we all have a good answer for this question: What is the most ridiculous argument you've ever heard in church? Let's talk about crazy displays of disunity.

White Elephant Gift Exchange 2009

I'm a hardcore white elephant gift exchanger. I know I probably need therapy or at least a new hobby. Yet for this admitted prankster the white elephant gift exchange shines like a floodlight in a deserted Dollar General parking lot. For a few fleeting moments it's as if Santa is just asking to be depantsed in the name of universally lame gift giving. (Enter The Snuggie, The Shamwow, The Slap Chop.)

On Saturday our Sunday School class amassed for a Christmas party. Now let me be frank. I did not attend this yearly event because the food was delicious. My attendance also had nothing to do with the fellowship (though I must say the "I'm Gonna Get You Sucka" analysis did make me more than a little chortle tipsy). The reason I attend this event is because I spend months configuring the perfect white elephant gift. (The balance of embarrassment, sarcasm, and shock is delicate. Personally, I think it's some kind of gift.)

As I wrote last year there are tremendous ways to sabotage such an exchange. This year however, I took my own advice, threw caution to the wind, and gave away this little gem, note and all.


The Baby Making Date Night Kit!

Contents include:
1 regifted $25 Red Robin gift card (unused)
1 Colt 45 Malt Liquor 22 oz. beverage for 2
1 red bottle opener
1,000,000 possibilities

That's right. I said "Malt Liquor" and "Sunday school class" in the same post. (You are welcome.)

When the Colt 45 made its grand appearance eyes popped like bottle rockets on the 4th of July. Though I can't prove it I think there was a whole section of folks who weren't offended but were pretty sure someone was gonna have some 'splainin' to do to some elders.

For other reasons I can't quite figure 3 whole people yelled at the top of their lungs, "STACY SMALL! YOU BROUGHT THAT, DIDN'T YOU!?"

Now, a note on white elephant gift psychology. We all know the point of the game is to leave the party with the least crappy gift. The conundrum with the Date Night Baby Maker is an inner struggle with moral depravity. One might think to himself, "Red Robin gift card? For $25? Not bad. But I must claim the Satan water to get it. Am I ready to reveal my inner wino?"

A friend sitting next to me said, "What is the difference between beer and malt liquor?"

"Trashiness," I replied.

She tilted her head to the side to let that sink in. I tilted my head to the side as I evaluated how I knew the answer to her question. (If you are reading this while enjoying a nice malt liquor I appologize sincerely. No joke at your expense to be sure. Cheers.)

You will be happy to know the Date Night Baby Maker made the rounds that evening. It finally found a place to call home with one of my friends. She leaned across the table and said, "I'm always looking for something to do with the kids when my husband works late." I think she meant taking the kids out to dinner, but who am I to judge? I'm the kind of person who brings Colt 45 to an otherwise Christian outing.

What's the worst (or best) white elephant gift you have ever given? What will you be taking to your white elephant this year?

Bohemian Rhapsody

As a child The Muppets terrified me. "Why do people laugh at the Swedish Chef?" I wondered. "He doesn't have eyes. I can't understand what he is saying. Why won't someone help him?" For a 4 year old it was all too much. I'd lay in bed and pray my Holly Hobby sheets would protect me from Pigs In Space. Though my sensibilities are less delicate today my opinion of The Muppets hasn't changed. That is, until I saw this. Bohemian Rhapsody, perhaps one of my favorite (albeit shockingly twisted) songs sung by the various creatures who forced me into therapy. Pure genius, even if they are made from asbestos, Yak hair and Hawiian Punch.

Don't miss my husband's cameo at 3:46.

Where's your cameo? Which character are you? (I pop up at 3:59)

Dear Reader,

Jon Acuff once said, "The best way to overcome writer's block is to write about writer's block until the ideas begin to flow."

I responded, "No, Silly, the best way to overcome writer's block is plagiarism." No one else agreed with me. It was one of those "Jon is handing out sage wisdom" moments and I was just being a ridiculous. Go figure.

Here I sit with the opposite of writer's block. Right now I have ideas spinning through my head a mile a minute.

Since September life has not made sense. It started with my dad having a heart attack around the middle of the month. A few days later as I laid down highway miles traveling to his heart surgery, Dan called. A raspy, tearful voice, barely recognizable to me, demanded me to pull over. "You need to come home, Stacy. My dad is dead."

"NO! NO! NO!" Over and over I screamed. The patriarch of our family, our "go to" guy, our protection in the storm was gone. Hit head on while riding his Harley, he died on impact, taking a piece of me and the rest of the family with him into eternity.

My husband's brother's wife and I often joke that we would have married either of the boys just to get into the family. When I married Dan, the love I shared for his parents really sweetened the deal. In fact, at our wedding, Dan's dad, David, made a toast to me. He raised his glass and simply said, "Stacy today I'm proud to be called your dad." It's my favorite memory of him.

We have lost so much. Together we have been grieving, remembering, and moving on. It's a slow process. The art of letting go seems contorted, after all, we're not made to know how to handle death. We are made for eternity. For those of us in Christ, when we lose a member of the body, we can't help but long for heaven.

In the midst of losing Dan's dad, my dad had a major stroke. His personality changes and lack of ability to communicate leaves my heart raw. He isn't recovering quickly. Unfortunately his diabetes slows the process considerably. He is my daddy. Watching him suffer doesn't seem fair.

Faith aside, there is a real sense that I am grieving the loss of two dads. One is with Jesus in eternity. The other is still with me and the goal is to try to determine how to communicate with him in a way he understands. This is my greatest longing.

I wish I had and super spiritual insight to bring it all home. But in writing this to you after a long absence this is as honest as I can be. Right now I don't have many answers. I never set out to have a perfect blog, but I did promise myself I'd always be real. Part of that reality is that I have missed you. Your friendship transcends the screen.

I did have one very good thing happen in November. My family and I met Jon and Jenny Acuff. Even though they did not pay for our lunch we had a good time. We gave them a Stacy From Louisville gift bucket. Bucket, you ask? Why yes, a Kentucky Fried Chicken bucket filled with items made in Kentucky. Of course this included Maker's Mark Bourbon. (You can make whiskey anywhere, but true bourbon is only made in KY. You are welcome.) And who doesn't want bourbon without a Gettin' Lucky In Kentucky Shot Glass? Dan and I even signed it for them. Seems a shame I don't have a photo.

It is my hope to get reacquainted with you. Thank so much to those of you who have sent me Facebook messages of encouragement - and messages telling me to get back to the blog already. It all means so much.

Let's talk again soon,
Stacy