Politics, religion, and real life

Gov Huckabee has a few of the Republic presidential candidates on some kind of extended special. Drew put Fox News on earlier before he promptly slipped into snoredome. Because I was busy searching mindless info on the iPad, I paid no attention. Now that I realize what is on and that I have the option to change the channel unnoticed, I feel almost guilty for not watching. I do not want to be one of the ignorant uniformed...but my desire to be entertained, distracted, swept away from the poignantly sharp grind of the daily by and by. A variety of child amusement devices litter the floor. From my perch dirty dishes, leftovers, and unshelved groceries stand defiantly on the granite countertop. My lovely home though not in complete disarray is still moderately cluttered. My vain attempts to ignore the wimpering and wailing coming from down the hall as Jer coaxes my crazy wild sweet baby boys into nighttime slumber, do not prevent a gnawing ball of guilt from twisting my guts and clawing at my weary heart. Bridge ...kids asleep. I agree to watch whatever movie Jer chooses. DrewAllen, not asleep, joins. Just watched "mr popper's penguins" with Jer n drew. But not really cause they fell asleep. DrewAllen apparently not asleep joined me. Because I'm a sucker for a story, any story once began must be finished. Some like the song that never ends, make a grandma a mama again. And I cannot say I love it everyday...or even most days. But the sweet bitter ache in my soul, make it worth it. Whether is the tiny gently kisses of a little boy or the obnoxious snoring of a half manchild, I am a blessed woman.  Guess I left out the region part....that's maybe because it is not a part but the all; and not religion but life. Breathing in and breathing out the very spirit of God.

Twas the night before tomorrow.

It's hard to imagine what life was like then When the evening was peaceful, quiet and free. Before pull ups and sippy cups had to be bought. Before Tractors, and trains, hot wheels and games Littered the hardwood, the carpet, the stairs. When no one crept into my bed in the night Whimpering and whining that they'd suffered a fright. Seems long ago, that my life was my own. My comings and goings were were all about me, And sometimes my husband and our family.... My heart has been challenged and stretched open wide Turns out when you say, "jesus, i give you my life." He takes it And molds it As He sees is best. The Fathers's hand can be felt every day Touching my heart and making it new. The fingers he uses are sticky and small They create lovely drawings on couches and walls. I'm grateful and thankful And blessed beyond measure. For as He has promised He's given great treasure.

Futile or Feudal

I have heard it said that the best way to write is to just write; to begin. I opened my computer 20-30 minutes or so...ago. (is that grammatically correct?) Anyways, torn between going beyond my perfunctory devotional reading, to Bible reading and prayer, I bounced up and down of my chair wiping a bum, closing the refrigerator door, letting the dog out...then back in, and generally being distracted as I watched the kitchen clock tick away my precious time, and nothing I was supposed to do or wanted to do was getting accomplished. So, here I sit, staring at that clock knowing I should have slipped out of my pajamas and into some form of real clothes. I should be ready for my official 8:00 start time, never mind that I woke, no was awoken before 6:30 (about 15 minutes after I hit "ignore" on my alarm) by a very grumpy 3 year old, what is it about 3 year olds and grumpy Audra B? Though he feigned affection, his little fists and elbows pounded away at my mummified flesh demanding I open "his" bathroom door...mind you my bathroom door was open and only a few baby steps away. Threats to spank is cute chubby bottom fell on deaf ears as he continued to snuggle and pound away. My groggy selfish mind, still muddling over what was being asked of me and its longing to drift back into and unconscious oblivion, fought to form some plan of action, or inaction.

Now, with only seven short minutes left, chaos is brewing in the kitchen, and only one of the chaos creators is even awake. An empty, grateful, egg carton glides off the bar and across the hard wood. An unidentified crash can be heard as a devilishly grinning face peers around the stainless steel garbage can to see if I am catching this misbehavior.

Spotted my morning barn hand strolling past the sun room windows, time for real clothes and moving body parts. I hear Sandy hollering a DA to unlock the door, "No!" he hollers back.
Alas, this queen must begin her daily reign. Lord please help her serve joyfully in both the mundane and the mighty.