Questionable Ethics

I'm having a lot of thoughts right now about money. Maybe it's because our church is going through a series on giving. Or because I've picked up a book called Rich Christians in an Age of Hunger. Or because I just watched Sicko. Or because God just has something to tell me right now. I just got a regular update letter from Global Aid Network (one of the ministries we support) which left me standing in my kitchen, crying. I get these letters every month, and they always touch me in some way. But this time my heart just broke. I'm standing there munching away on my chips and salsa, reading about orphans staying out of school to harvest potatoes (getting a pitance of their labor to eat) and subsisting on nothing but these potatoes and bread. And suddenly it all seemed ridiculous. How can we have so much, and they have so little? We're not more worthy than them. I know that God has a plan, but I have to consider that maybe part of that plan includes me giving up a good chunk of my "so much." I have of course had these thoughts before, but I usually manage to let the regularities of my day wash over these thoughts, drowning them in the back of my mind. So I thought this time I'd write it down. Our culture tells us that we deserve all this stuff, that, in fact, we NEED it; that the world isn't fair, and that's just the way it is. But I'm a Christian. Jesus tells me something different. Why is it so hard to override this crazy culture and listen to Him? I don't have all the answers. But I want to make a difference.

Pork Fat

For those who don't know, this is Charlie, our other child. He was our only child for four years. Unfortunately, for him, he was given the back seat a little over two years ago. Less petting, less walking, less brushing, less bathing, less playing. We're bad parents, I know. But apparently I decided to make up for all that neglect today by leaving a cup full of pork fat on the kitchen counter. Why would you have a cup full of pork fat on the counter, Christy, you say? I decided to try my hand at making North Carolina style BBQ the other day (the best kind of BBQ). This makes an obscene amount of fat. Said fat gets skimmed off the top of the leftover juices, and then you make yummy sauce (we'll pretend that I got all of the fat and that the BBQ did NOT in fact have 10000 calories in it). Of course this fat is very hot and not something you should pour down your drain, so I left it on the counter to cool. Being the procrastinator that I am, three days later I am still successfully ignoring the cup of fat. But not my dog. He's just biding his time, waiting for the perfect opportunity to steal that puppy off the counter and gobble down a whole stinking cup of fat. And that time was tonight, while the family was away for dinner. So let's all pray that giant amounts of fat do not harm 75 pound dogs, because, despite our behavior for the past two years, we really do love him very much.

Cookies with Sprinkles

On Valentine's Day, Owen and I had Christianne & Evie over for lunch. Christianne, being the creative mom that she is, brought the ingredients to make and decorate heart shaped cookies. This was a tremendous success--Owen is still talking about "cookies with sprinkles." This particular picture amuses me because you are witnessing Owen in his role as The Enforcer. Evie had just been told by her mommy to stop swiping the icing off her cookie, and Owen is none too happy about her disobedience--thus the finger wagging. He turned into The Screamer about 2 minutes later, when I took the second half of his cookie away before he ate his weight in sugar.

My Valentine

So in light of today's date, I'd like to share with you 14 things that I love about my husband. Some big, some small. One a little PG-13, so stop reading if you're single or blush easily.

1. His sense of humor
2. The way he plays with our son
3. His laugh--when he's really laughing
4. The fact that he knows the words to nearly every song
5. He's fun to hang out with
6. He really cares about his work
7. He's a thinker
8. He loves Jesus
9. He's my handyman
10. His honesty
11. He's a wonderful travel companion
12. The way he says hello and goodbye
13. He's not materialistic
14. He's a great lover

Tagging

Okay, so I'm new to this whole blogger thing. Apparently, there is something called "being tagged." Your blogger friends, who have been subjected to said tagging by one of their blogger friends, pass it on to you...like a virus. Is this the chain letter of the blogging world? Am I going to receive 7 years of bad luck if I don't follow through on this tagging? Doubtful. However, I have been tagged by a new friend, Amy, whom I happen to like very much. So I'm going to follow through with my assignment, though I don't believe I'm going to try to strong-arm others into doing so (hopefully she won't reject me in my disobedience). But if you'd like to participate on your blog, feel free. It goes something like this. Pick up the nearest book. Turn to page 123. Transcribe the 5th, 6th, and 7th sentences on the page. So here goes:

"You have corn of your own growing; I have to buy every grain. Do what I will, I must spend three roubles every week for bread alone. I come home and find the bread all used up, and I have to fork out another rouble and a half."

This is from Walk in the Light and Twenty-three Tales by Leo Tolstoy. Not sure what these sentences are all about...I'm only on page 87. But probably some ridiculously poor Russian dude who is about to be jailed unjustly, cheated out of his rightful earnings, or left by his wife, only to find true meaning in it all through his relationship with God. I'm on tale #3 and that seems to be the pattern so far. If you are wondering why I'm reading heavy Russian fiction in my spare time, I blame the Tab book club. If you are as in love with reading as I am, I suggest you take on a book club yourself. Incredibly rewarding. If, however, you are more like my husband, I'd just recommend that you try picking up a book, say, every four years or so.

We are the body of Christ

One of my dearest friends is struggling right now, and my heart breaks for her. I am praying dilligently. Please join me. See her story at http://www.thepagespage.com/chrisblog/.

Counting Blueberries

I love waffles with blueberries. Which is why I had them for breakfast the other day. However, as I was happily consuming said waffles, I realized that I was counting my blueberries. I was also estimating the number of bites left in my waffle. This led to blueberries being evenly divided and consumed. For example, 5 bites left + 10 blueberries = 2 blueberries per bite. This wasn't something I sat and mulled over. I just did it. I do similar things with lots of my food. For instance, if I am eating a stew with beef, potatoes and carrots, I prefer to have each bite contain one piece of each...even if that means my bite is too big and I look like a squirrel storing food in my cheeks for a minute. Why is this? I think I have a little OCD. Actually, I think we all have a little OCD. Will adamantly disagrees. He swears that he does nothing like that. So here's the question...what about all of you? Am I the only one counting my blueberries? Or do you do something equally OCD but in a different capacity? I want to know. I need to feel that I have company in my weirdness.

It's cold, you better dry your hair!

Oh, we've heard it all before. It's winter and I don't have any more time in the morning to dry my hair than I did in the summer, and, in fact, if I decided to run out to my car butt naked right out of the shower, I'd be alright. It's not the cold that makes us sick, nor does it make us more susceptible to being sick. It's being shut up inside when it's cold outside with all you sick people that makes us sick. So if you don't want to get sick this winter, go outside. Get away from the sick people.
I really haven't spent a lot of time pondering all of this. On the other hand, I have noticed that I've been seeing a lot more sick people lately. Not just numbers wise, but more severe illness as well. That is great for my numbers. The higher-ups are counting. But I can't help but realize that winter is bad for the old or sickly. I'm happy to help grandma feel a little bit better when a cold is ailing her, but I hate telling a family that grandma is going to the ICU and at best will likely never be the same. The worst part of my job is the moment right after telling bad news.
So be sure to spend a little time with loved ones, even if it's inside, where all the germs are. And if your loved ones are outside and it's a little chilly, feel free to forego drying your hair.