If you like what you see, pass it on . . . the more the merrier!
Have a dressed up day! . . . put on a heart of compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience. Colossians 3
I have not blogged much this week because some "bug" got me. My poor family has had to listen to me moan and groan all week. Something about not feeling like walking across the floor. Felt like the flu, with only the achy symptoms.
I still have nothing, so I decided to repeat a post from September. The reason I chose this one is the rain today - and the whole "bug" thing. It's cold and wet and this post makes me think of the thick of summer.
I hope you enjoy it, again. Hopefully tomorrow I'll be back on my game.
Today I pondered the lovebugs on my windshield while carsitting. There they were, in all their glory. I felt like the one person on the "nuddy" beach with clothes on. Maybe I shouldn't be watching.
A few facts about lovebugs. They are also known as the honeymoon fly or kissybug. There is always a larger bug (the female, of course - must be her metabolism).
After mating the male dies - guess she "bugged" him to death. Ouch. He is then dragged around by the female until she lays her eggs, about 350 of them. Can anybody say, "Epideral, please."
The female will live for 3-4 days. Ladies, you'd die too if you had to drag your deadbeat husband around.
There doesn't seem to be much love to these bugs. One is always looking ahead and the other one can only see where he has been - never where he is going. Even though they are "joined at the hip" you might say, there is no unity. Even sadder was the lone lovebug on the right side of my window. It had no partner. It was slow moving, erratic, and appeared to be in a drunken state. It was wandering and would die alone.
Watching these bugs brought to my mind a life without Christ. If you are the smaller one the devil is dragging you around by your tail; taking you where he leads, and all you can do is follow and see only where you have been. Why? Because you have no control over your own existance. You are lost in sin. And that, my friend, is a bad kind of lost.
Then there is life with Christ. You are dragging Satan around. All he can do is chase after you, trying in vain to take you where you cannot go. Away from Christ.
I got to pondering more and wondered if a lovebug's life would be better lived another way. Then I looked again at the lone bug who had layed her eggs and shed her mate. It really was sad looking, seemed to have very little life left. God did not create the lovebug to live alone - just as He did not create us to live alone. Only life lived in Oneness with Him is a life worth living.
And with this life there is no dead weight, just a glorious freedom that comes from the forgiveness of sin.
I don't know about you, but I'd rather live the life Micah speaks of in the Bible. "God will cast all of our sins into the depths of the sea." Micah 7:19
Burden of sin verses the relief of forgiveness - with the added bonus of Jesus. Sounds like love to me.
Psalm 103:12 says this, "As far as the east is from the west, so far hath He removed our transgressions from us."
By the way - that gross smear on your windshield - it's not the lovebug's insides, it's their eggs. Mamas, have a great day. Be thankful you are not a lovebug.
My Shelby left for Honduras last Thursday. I've got six more days of missing her ahead of me.
The Friday night before they left we had supper with Donna, from MississippiMama, and her family. They graciously opened their home to us so we could look at pictures and ask any questions or express any concerns about the trip.
This is her first time out of the country (would it even matter?) and because I'm bound and determined to not worry, or sit around playing out what if scenerios in my head (like airplanes falling into the Gulf, or men with guns, or earthquakes, or - you get the point), I'm going to remember her like this . . .
and this . . .
and this . . .
which is how she looked while talking about the trip at Donna's house that night.
Shelby does not like jelly on her PB&J sandwiches. Because of this her sandwich was packed seperately from the rest of the team's yesterday. Then the mission teams lunches got left behind and only Shelby had hers. I cried today when I found out she wouldn't eat her lunch because no one else had theirs.
I cried because that's the kind of young woman she is - and I am proud. Even if I'm still not sure who raised such a lovely person.
Bluebird, if you get to the internet cafe and see this, do as Joe said - spread the word of Jesus as far as you can - and then hurry home for a while, your Mamie misses you.
"How beautiful on the mountains are the feet of those who bring good news, who proclaim peace, who bring good tidings, who proclaim salvation, who say to Zion, 'Your God reigns!'" Isaiah 52:7
Be sure to read the three posts above to catch up.
I want to thank my husband and family for their wonderful support. I did not need another reason to fall deeper in love with He's Too Good To Me, but he gave me one with how he supported me in this.
Some other people - not so much. Even though I'm not through with this, I'm ending it anyway. Maybe y'all should rethink your words about my bravery?
I'm going to leave you with one last thing to ponder.
What came first - the chicken or the egg?
The chicken, of course.
It's not philosophy, or science, or any of that stuff people's minds can linger on. It's just simply a God thing. How He created and how He intended it to be.
So . . .
Who comes first - your husband or your children?
The correct answer is not hard. It's just that most of us are doing it wrong. Think about it - it's a God thing.
"I am my lovers. I'm all he wants. I'm all the world to him! Come, dear lover - let's tramp through the countryside. Let's sleep at some wayside inn, then rise early and listen to bird-song. Let's look for wildflowers in bloom, blackberry bushes blossoming white, fruit trees festooned with cascading flowers. And there I'll give myself to you, my love to your love!" Song of Solomon 7:10-13 - The Message
Go have some sweet sex on Saturday with your husband. It's a God thing.
There were a few technical difficulties with Maxster's birthday slideshow yesterday and the sound would not work. My hero fixed it last night. So, if you have the time, check back to yesterday's post.
I lost my bank card a week ago. It was stupid. No, really, it was stupid. It's too long a story and too stupid, but mostly too embarrassing, to write about.
It fell out of my car at the grocery store. I am 100 percent plus eternity sure. Don't ask me how I'm sure - just believe me. Positively, sure.
It has been eating at me that no one took the time to take it into the store and turn it in. We live in a little city, it would have taken all of maybe three minutes to go into our small grocery store and do this kind deed.
He's Too Good To Me, who is 100 percent plus eternity less cynical than I am, believes maybe the person will drive to the bank and turn it in. Yeah, right.
But, I am no longer angry. To preserve my faith in humanity I have drawn a new conclusion. I believe that the person who found it is a world renowned heart surgeon, who found it at the exact moment he/she received word that a jet was waiting to fly him to parts unknown to save the life of a dying child - a child who will grow up to cure diabetes, all cancer, and save generations of lost souls - but only if he/she hurried.
Somewhere at a private airport sits a car with rotting groceries inside - and my bank card beside them.
So, whoever you are and wherever you are - no need to bother when you return (You see, I'm quite convinced world renowned heart/brain/all vital organ surgeons read my blog). All is well - card is cancelled and my mind is at ease.
Thank you for all you do - whoever you are that found my card.
So today, in place of Maxster'sWhat the Word?Wednesday, (I can hear the oh no's and heavy sighs all across this disappointed land) I will be celebrating my three year old beautiful baby boy.
When I see him like this . . .
or this . . .
or this . . .
I wonder if he knows that each day he is growing taller and stronger.
I wonder if he knows that one day hewill be like his Daddy.
I wonder if he knows that one day he will be a man.
I forgot my daybook yesterday. Last week on this post I said I would start it this week. See, I wasn't kidding when I said I'm usually a little off track. I may do it on Tuesdays instead of Mondays, anyway.
Those of you who know me know I hate Mondays. He's Too Good To Me goes back to work and that's a bummer. The house is always a mess from the weekend. I can't remember the last time I enjoyed a Monday. I really need to work on that. But, until I've improved my attitude, you would not want to know how I'd answer some of these questions.
Note to self: Monday attitude adjustment.
So, daybook on Tuesdays. My site is meant to be upbeat - so Tuesdays it is. Here is the first one. Thanks again to Peggy at The Simple Woman's Daybook, here, for this wonderful idea.
Later this week I'm gonna blog about how I lost my bankcard and this kind samaritan who found it and went to all the trouble to - wait, that didn't happen. Later this week I'm gonna blog about how I lost my bankcard, and . . . well, you'll see.
Outside my window...
slightly cloudy. Come out sun, wherever you are.
I am thinking...
how glad I am I cleaned house yesterday. Didn't want to do it, but so relieved it's done. Thank you, Izzy-B, for all your help.
I am thankful for...
beautiful weather.
From the learning rooms...
We are now offically behind in math. We will need to do extra in it this week, along with extra reading for our co-op class Friday.
From the kitchen...
He's Too Good To Me has a men's Bible study on Tuesday night and they do potluck. Because he's not here and it's just us girls we usually eat something he doesn't like. I'm not sure what it will be yet but it will involve chicken -cause he dislikes chicken dishes.
I am creating...
A slideshow to celebrate Max's third birthday. Better late than never.
I am going...
Isabela has piano today and I have a homeschooling meeting tonight. Really need to squeeze in the grocery store.
I am reading...
all of the paperwork for Shelby's mission trip and each of Donna's Hondours posts all over again.
I am hoping...
for a good report at the endocrinologist appointment for Delia Thursday. A safe trip to Atlanta and then Hondorus for Shelby and the others traveling Thursday and Friday. Comfort for Haiti.
I am hearing...
Dodge baaaing in the backyard.
Around the house...
laundry, as usual. Delia and Shelby both home, neither have classes on Tuesdays. Nice.
One of my favorite things...
going to Mom and Dad's house to celebrate my children's birthdays. Thank you, Mom, for another great party Saturday night.
A few plans for the rest of the week:
My oldest has a doctor's appointment Thursday and I will be tagging along this time. Praying for a good A1C. We have a deacon/wife banquet this week along with co-op on Friday. Wow, I don't usually get out this much.
Here is picture for thought I am sharing...
Shelby at the wax museum in Gatlinburg. What was she thinking?
Before we start this week's, let's clear something up from last week. When I posted last week I asked He's Too Good To Me to read it and give some insight.
Later that night while lying in bed after some sweet sex on Saturday (I highly recommend it), I was able to pry more info out of him. He is never sleepy afterwards and will talk more intimately with me then. He again agreed with what I had written - but then there was a "but. . ."
Yes, he explained, men feel empowered with frequent sex. Six months without sex within marriage would unravel him. But then came the but . . .
He would rather endure no sex than sex with me if I was only doing it to empower him to be a better man. This had never entered my mind, that he thought like this. He continued - sex is love, and even though it makes him better in life, just as I wrote about here, he informed me any real man wants love with his sex. Then my husband made his next comment, and it's a biggie, it went something like this - a man needs to know his woman is enjoying herself. This is when sex becomes making love.
That's a big but. Ladies, your husband wants you to enjoy yourself. Remember last week when I said we'd talk about what is hot sex to a man? Top of the list - knowing their wife is enjoying herself. That's hot to him. That turns him on and makes him try even harder - which is good, because . . .
Most of the responsibility of a woman enjoying herself sexually falls upon the man. But like a lot of things in a woman's life, we make the first move and take the first step and make sure what should happen is happening. What does this mean? It means the next big step - communication.
If your sex life is lacking then it's past time to communicate. This is not easy. Almost guaranteed is embarrassment and worse, hurt feelings. But it's still a necessary step.
If you are not enjoying sex - why? There are the physical reasons and I'm not a doctor and really cannot address those here. But I have experienced them. At that time in my life these reasons became my excuses to withhold.
My physical problems were due to a common complaint after pregnancy which leads to a lack of desire. This happened after all four of my pregnancies. I had no sex drive. Luckily, after watching my husband become increasingly restless and realizing the importance of sex in my marriage, I took the steps to fix it. All we needed was my effort to ask my doctor some questions and take her advice. Ladies, please make the effort.
If it is a true physical problem and we don't try to fix it, our reason has then become an excuse. Reasons become excuses when we are selfish and won't make the effort to solve the problem. Then we are in the wrong. Ouch. What follows is resentment that can grow and grow until a small fixable issue has become the downfall of your relationship.
But sometimes you are desperately in love with your husband but you are just simply not enjoying yourself and you do not want to do it again - thus, no sex drive. In regards to sex, this has never been an issue in our marriage, but I know women who struggle with this. Your husband is not trying or does not know how to pleaseyou -but you can help fix this.Talk to him.
Divorce hovered over my marriage; papers were filed and the only thing missing was one signature. He's Too Good To Me's tenacity, me teaching him what I needed from him emotionally in the issues that were pulling us apart, and learning to understand him is what saved our marriage. In desperation we finally communicated.
You must teach your husband what you want. Going straight from bed to between our legs is a big no-no. Most men know this, but remember, they are not thinking with their brains at this point, so have you told or reminded him lately? Work together. Light a candle, read a how-to book (I'm not kidding), experiment, laugh. Gently express with words how you want him to tenderly kiss you and touch you and speak to you until you become aroused, for however long that takes.
"Your lips are like a scarlet thread, and your mouth is lovely . . . Your neck is like the tower of David built with rows of stones. . . Your two breasts are like two fawns, twins of a gazelle which feed among the lilies.
You will not arouse or awaken my love until she pleases." - Song of Soloman
And guess what? Before you know it you'll be back into the hang of sex and all will be well. You'll even want a quickie sometimes and won't need all that attention. But when you do need it he will know what to do.
This very real physical problem of no sex drive can also be caused by mental or emotional issues and all of this sounds good unless you are in that place. You are so hurt and angered by your husband for whatever reason that sex is no longer in the picture. You are done, you are finished, the idea of making love to him causes you to cringe. I have been there. But I know from experience and two seperations that there is always hope. I am praying for you, personally, whoever you are.
"Rejoice in hope, be patient in tribulation, be constant in prayer." Romans 12:12
So, all this past week we worked to stop withholding. This week, as we continue to work on that, let's add communication. Tell him what you want to experience in bed. Tell him how you want him to make love to you. Go ahead, do it. Blushing is allowed.
Leave a comment - we could all use them. They can be anonymous, or I can make them anonymous if you'd like.
"I don't think that a word has been invented for what is happening in Haiti. It is total disaster". - Food for the Poor project manager Liony Batista
It could have been us. That big devastating earthquake that hit Haiti could have been here. We could be mourning and burying our dead while still searching for missing loved ones.
My heart is breaking for the people of that country so far away that it feels like another world - but it's not, it's our world, they are our people, and we must share in their pain. What kind of people are we if we don't?
I've been trying to keep up, hoping to hear soon how to help from this distance. K-LOVE has posted on their site an email from Mark Stuart, lead singer of Audio Adrenaline. This group has been working in Haiti for several years. You can link to K-LOVE here to read it and see how to help. There is also a list of charity organizations and links to them.
In times like this all I seem to feel is helpless. I see the pictures and hear the news and a feeling within me stirs and I yearn to be there, to do something.
Prayer. I can offer prayer, and I have been. It is Satan that continues to send me this helpless feeling. I know from my Father's own sweet promises that prayers are heard and answered.
"And I will do whatever you ask in my name, so that the Son may bring glory to the Father. You may ask me for anything in my name, and I will do it" (John 14:13-14).
And I know that our Savior feels our pain and understands grief.
"Jesus wept" (John 11:35).
The Bible tells us twice in the book of Luke that Jesus could perceive the thoughts of those around him.
"But Jesus, aware of their reasonings . . . " (Luke 5:22) "But He knew what they were thinking . . . " (Luke 6:8)
Jesus knew as He stood at the tomb of His dear friend Lazarus that in moments He would raise him from the dead and rejoicing would surround Him. So, why was He crying? Jesus didn't feel helpless or ache with the sorrow that one feels when they are grieving, hurting with the knowledge that they won't see a loved one this side of Heaven again. He knew He'd see Lazarus alive in a moment. So, why was He crying?
Jesus was crying because He felt their pain, He knew their thoughts. The pain of his dear friends, Mary and Martha, the pain of all those gathered around Him at that moment. This verse shows the extraordinary love of our Savior for us. Knowing what He would do in just a moment, but taking the time to feel the grief of those He loved.
It goes so much farther than that. It goes so much deeper. I believe at that moment He felt the pain of all the souls He had created. He felt the pain that each person from the beginning of time to the end of time would feel. He felt our sorrow. He was overwhelmed with the sorrow of the Haitian people as He saw ahead in time to their grief.
Jesus came to this earth to defeat death but His heart agonized with the weight of the pain that it causes His children. If you are a Christian the moment you close your eyes in death on this earth you are immediately awakened into the presence of God. But for those left behind, the sorrow is agony. He understood this for us and He cried for us.
The greatness of those words, Jesus wept, should bring us to our knees in a desperate quest to discover what we can do for others in times of tragedy.
The Master of the Universe wept for us. He wept for me and He wept for you.
It could make me feel that anything I can do would be small and insignificant in comparision to what He did. But I know better, I know the power of prayer - and intermingled with my prayers for the suffering of these people is my prayer for Satan to get behind me, in the name of Jesus, and to stop making me feel helpless.
The following verse is one I grasp often. It's how I imagine the people of Haiti are praying now.
"In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groans that words cannot express" (Romans 8:26).
Above all, as hard as it is for our minds to comprehend joy in tragedy like this, may our God be glorified through it all. May His name be exalted. The giver of life, the taker of life, and the understander of why.
First, I'll share. Maxster is not wanting to participate in this little game of ours any longer.
Maybe I'll bribe him with a pony next. Apparently, he's had his fill of oreos.
So, you'll need a little extra luck this week. You're welcome.
Truth is - he really does a hatchet job on these words, anyway.
Hint: It's really his second favorite television show. There are three words in the title - not four, like he says. He repeats the second word and makes it the last. Make sense? Didn't think so.
See all those little pieces of white paper laying on my buffet behind him? He found his "babe sisses" today and cut 8,453 of those. All. Over. The. House.
Anyone want a Maxster who can't speak English? He's free.
Post all guesses under comments below and check back tomorrow on this post for the answer - and again, good luck.
Donna got it first, Donna got it first. That came from Donna - nah, not really. Kudos to Donna and her cool bunch of homeschooled kids. Maxster's second favorite TV show is, "Go,Diego, Go" + an extra Diego.
Y'all are learning to speak his language so well that next week I'm gonna really sock it to 'ya.
One question - no one seems to want my child? I'm truly crushed and offended. Is it the 8,453 little pieces of paper? Cause if it is - I can, you know - keep those here.
That's just a joke - you can take my life but you can't take my child.
See 'ya next week for more What the Word?Wednesday.
I'm starting something this week that I've been meaning to do for a while - ever since I saw it on my sweet friend Jennifer's blog, Payingformyraising, several months ago. Check her out. I look forward to her daybook on Mondays, her honesty is refreshing - go clean that kitchen, Jennifer.
It is The Simple Woman's Daybook, created by Peggy here. It is a beautiful idea that she has graciously shared with the rest of us. When you're checking it out, be sure to glimpse into the main page of her blog, here. Thank you, Peggy.
I will try to do it every Monday, beginning next week. That's the way I do most things, so really I'm more on track than off.
I recommend this to everyone. I have four children, the oldest two are twenty and six days shy of eighteen. Oh my.
I blog mainly for my kids. Check out my sidebar Why This? Why Now? All you moms out there with young ones - please, take it from me. They will be grown soon and you will not be able to remember so many things. There are things I never thought I'd forget and I have forgotten. Trust me, if you do not have time to journal this is something easy you can do that will allow you to look back one day and recall what was going on in your lives in just the ordinary days we take for granted.
This is an ordinary day around here. Sigh.
Better yet, take time to journal, wish I had.
I am having each of my girls - Delia, Shelby, and Isabela start one. Can't force the older two, but I'm hoping they'll take the time to participate on the privacy of their own computers.
I'm aware everyone does not like to write, but for free you can set up your own blogspot and just do the daybook on Mondays - or everyday. Share it only with family and friends, it does not have to be public. It would be a great way to share with those far from you.
That's my wish for those of you that are not taking the time to record moments.
Now, a private note to my four sisters - Janice, Penny, Wendy, and Rhonia - along with my dear friend, Sandra - who might as well be a sister. I have the oldest two of all of our children. Trust me.
Do this and send it to me each week. I'm begging. I would love to keep up better with what's going on with the gals, guys, and babies I so treasure.
We have four cars. First of all, maybe we are being punished for having four cars with four drivers. Doesn't anyone know how to share any longer?
The newest is an '02 Ford F150. They go downhill, or down-year, from there. I wasn't lying in my profile when I said we drive cars that run. They're not expensive or fancy and each one has its own - let's say - personality.
As you know, personalities can be quirky, fickle, or even down-right mean.
Oil leaks in one car, power steering fluid in the other, the heat does not work in two - okay, itsortaworks - sometimes. One car has four doors but only two door handles, one car has a leak on the inside - going upwards - try explaining gravity to a car. One squeaks like an old wire mattress above a saloon on a cowboy's payday.
Are you appreciating your vehicles yet?
He's Too Good To Me keeps them running and tuned as best he can on a limited budget. Just one (I should have known better) question and one complaint too many about the heat in my 'ole faithful Durango led us to this conversation today.
I did this Sex on Saturdays series a couple of years ago. Instead of reposting it all, I've just linked you back to the page.
It took bravery - but I'm glad I did it. I hope you are, too.
If you want to read them all, just click on the label at the end of this post.
Okay - here goes nothing - or everything.
It took me a long time to get up the nerve to blog about this subject. It's taboo among women in some circles and I don't know what circle all of you are in. This first one's also kinda long - there's that intoduction stuff. It'll get better so bear with me if you can.
Know that I have been praying about this, and praying for months now for the women that will read it. To get started, it's only fair to say that when He's Too Good To Me and I were struggling with this area in our lives I'm not sure that any amount of advice from anyone would have helped me. I cried alot, and prayed. Prayers like, "Help me, help me, help me." I didn't have the words or energy to pray much else.
It's a wonderful thing we don't have to tell God what to do, we can believe he knows and shares our pain, and that words like help me go as far as any other words.
If you are struggling with this area of life, and nothing I or anyone else says helps, or if for many reasons you can't act on anyone's advice, then I pray God's comfort and peace gives you the energy to not give up. There is hope, always.
Why is it, ladies, before we get married we can't keep our hands off our guy and our minds out of the gutter? We want to kiss, touch, and let our minds and bodies wander to the danger zone. Rebellion, that's why. Our sinful nature to rebel against God and the sins of the flesh. Our sinful desire was to be physical.
We get married, wake up one normal day, and suddenly we have to make ourselves make love. We have many excuses for it, but it is still rebellion. Rebelling against God's plan is what we do best; and after marriage it will manifest itself in the sinful desire to withhold.
It's common knowledge men have sex on the brain more than women, but just because this is true does not give us permission to use "not tonight" as a form of punishment, or to withhold for whatever reason. Withholding is not always mean-spirited, but it can be. Some excuses we label "reasons" - and we'll discuss that later.
I love to talk. When He's Too Good To Me comes home I could sit and talk about my day for an hour, at least. I enjoy it, it's how I communicate my need for him, and it's a stress reliever. Most of the time he politely obliges, sometimes even enjoying it.
How would I feel if he ignored me or made me feel like he was doing me a "favor" by listening? Hurt, that's how I'd feel - unloved and unwanted. Are our men so different?
Girls, your guy is wired for sex as enjoyment. Sex is his stress reliever. And, most importantly, sex is how he communicates his need for you.
Within a year of our marriage it was in trouble. Deep trouble. Sinking fast and both of us were too young and, more importantly, out of God's will, to know how to save it.
My knight in shining armor was battling inner demons that appeared to be winning. My answer - none for you tonight, buddy. Here's your pillow and blanket and there's the sofa - better yet, there's the road. I had unrealistic expectations about marriage and had placed a burden on my husband - the burden of my happiness. I was selfish, I was no good to him, and I did not understand and did not try to. He was letting me down and that was all I cared about.
I withheld sex. I might as well have withheld his oxygen. I had a plan. It did not work. My twisted idea that he would give me what I wanted if I withheld what he wanted proved itself warped. For years. Years that he and I can never get back.
Women want a healthy, happy, and fullfilling relationship.
Men want an active sex life. They have desires, just like us. Just different desires. They are not from a different planet - but withhold sex and they feel we do not love them. They become unhealthy, unhappy, and unfullfilled. And so do we.
But, like I said, withholding isn't always mean-spirited. Yes, it's reasonable that we are tired, have mommy stuff on the brain (and good mommys don't lust? yeah right, we'll talk about that one), warm up slowly, and have physical problems.
We're also gonna talk about men wanting not only frequent sex, but passionate sex. What exactly is hot sex?
Deciding to improve your sex life is not just another burden or add-on to your already full to-do list. It's marriage salvation. It's biblical and was created to be enjoyed.
"Kiss me - full on the mouth! Yes! For your love is better than wine, headier than your aromatic oils. The syllables of your name murmur like a meadow brook." Song of Solomon 1:1-3
That's the woman talking to her man. Sex is a good thing and our bodies are wired to enjoy it also - when we turn our minds off. So - enjoy it. Unlock its potential in your marriage. If it is broken it is time to fix it. If it is not, then celebrate it.
See 'ya next Saturday. In the meantime, don't withhold. See what happens.
Some Saturdays between now and Valentine's Day (unless I'm not in the mood or have a headache) I'll discuss sex within marriage. I'm aware this might make some of you uncomfortable, but if you hold your breath and jump in feet first I promise you'll warm up quickly.
I'm going to want comments - which, of course, can be anonymous. What's a discussion without, you know, a discussion. And a guest blogger would be awesome. Any takers?
God had a plan from the beginning and in that plan he created intimacy between man and wife. And wives, listen closely - if your husband "ain't getting none" - you are the one being short-changed.
He cannot, will not, and won't ever be his best without sex. Your man will be less than his best in all areas of his life - from a husband, to a father, to a breadwinner, to a friend - mostly yours. He cannot be on top (pardon the pun) when one of the things created for him to make him feel like an empowered man has been taken away or diminished.
There are many reasons for sex to be low on the totem pole of "till death do us part." Lack of desire in females (mostly), children, tiredness, letting ourselves go, resentments, lack of romance, etc. But the main reason in an otherwise good marriage - lack of effort.
My man is a good man who knows how to treat me right. But it wasn't always so. We had our ups and downs (where are these coming from? I promise they are not intentional), with blame on both sides. I'll share the story of my blame on Saturday. It was a crazy analyzation with twisted results.
In the meantime, ponder this.
Proverbs 30:18-19
"There are three things that amaze me— no, four things that I don’t understand: how an eagle glides through the sky, how a snake slithers on a rock, how a ship navigates the ocean, how a man loves a woman."
Most of us like it too, but may not want to admit it.
The word starts with a "b", all that other jabbering is how much it is yummy in his tummy.
Here goes, good luck, and thanks for playing.
Comment all guesses and check back tomorrow.
Yeah!! Finally a winner. Audrey got it first - he said bologna, or baloney, or however you say or spell it. Oscar Mayer spells it b-o-l-o-g-n-a. They have a way with it.
Okay, I know it ain't good for 'ya. But, he loves it. Right out of the plastic package, cold and raw. It is "yummy, yummy to my tummy."
Good job. Thanks for playing - I love the comments. Only, don't judge me too harshly - how many of you just won't admit you like it, too? Except you, dear sister Janice; no one that eats ketchup sandwiches could ever appreciate a fine piece of bologna. And that's no baloney.
New Year's resolutions are all over the place. I feel a little unsettled that I haven't made any.
I ate my peas, I ate my cabbage - my mama made me.
But I didn't make a resolution(s) for the new decade. Does that make me a bad twenty tenner?
Yes, yes it does. Of course, it does. Who doesn't make resolutions?
Years ago I proved a failure at resolutions and I quit trying. Why kick myself in the hiney only one time a year?
My late resolution - to make a resolution.
Seriously, this is no joke. But, where do I start?
Improvements need to be made in every area of my life. From Christian, to wife, to mother, to daughter, to sister, to friend, to keeper of the home, and the list goes on.
My pastor sent out an email this morning in which he compared the New Year and new beginnings to a mulligan in golf. A mulligan allows the player to play a second shot off the tee if the first one is poor.
I know nothing about golf. Before this morning I had never heard the word mulligan used in this way. Stew, anyone?
My pastor challenged me to make changes in my attitudes and actions that would bring me more in line with God's will for my life.
Be more in line with God's will for my life. Wouldn't that include all of the above mentioned improvements I need to make?
Resolutions? Mulligans? Chocolate? Vegetables? They're all the same, anyway. A starting point.
But, His will - now that's the finish line.
There's a catch with a mulligan. All players must be in agreement before you can get this fresh start, or second chance, without penalty.
The players - God and me. Are we in agreement? Just last night I had a talking to with Him and told Him He needed to put His running shoes on and catch up with me. I already have a problem solved if He'd stop dragging His feet.
Yeah, I talk like that to Him sometimes. Might as well, He knows me anyway. And He's my friend, He understands my frustrations.
One player in my life is always up for giving me a mulligan.
So here it is, my resolution - to work on forgiving myself my failures, and there are many, and try giving myself a mulligan.
A do-over.
A second chance.
A fresh start.
And all successes to God's glory, and all for His honor. After all, He is the only player that counts.
Does this mean I have to tell you where my chocolate is stashed? Just keeping it real.
It is done. It is finished. The goose is cooked. The kettle is on. The nail is in the coffin. The law is laid down. The eggs are in the basket.
The pee is in the pot.
That's right. We are potty-trained. And I say "we" in all seriousness. I have accomplished much.
Before, this is what he thought big boy briefs were for. Please ignore the construction cords and dust in the background. Please, for me. It can be your belated Christmas gift to me. Ignorance, blindness.
Below is a conversation in my home last evening.
Max is no longer in purple. His favorite color is now red. Which is my color. What we give up for our children. Thus, I shall be green, He's Too Good To Me is blue, and Max is in red.
"Tange me, I poo-pooed."
"No."
Funny look on Max.
"Tange me, I poo-pooed."
"No. You should not have poo-pooed in your pull-up. You shouldhave used the potty like a big boy. I'm not going to ever change you again. You will have to wear your poop in your pants."
Funny look on Max. Serious thinking. To his daddy he says . . .
"Tange me, I poo-pooed."
"No."
"No, son. I'll only change you if you put big boy briefs on and never tee-tee or poo-poo in your pants again."
Max smiles, takes off running, yelling . . .
"I go ge' big boy biefs. I big boy now."
His daddy changed him, put Thomas the Train briefs on him, took him to the potty, and . . .
Viola!
Twenty-four hours later. No accidents. No wet or dirty pull-ups. I feel richer already. I feel vindicated. I feel . . .
ok, maybe a little irritated. I should have threatened to make him walk around with dried poop on his buns six months ago.
