Get me outta here!

I'm a prisoner in my own home. Okay, not really, but there are days I feel like it. We have this neighbor who has been working on a landscaping project for MONTHS. He could have built a new house and landscaped it in the time he's been working on this project. Okay, so he has a lazy contractor or tons of money (or both), but the issue is that this is not a quiet project.

Some noise is to be expected in neighborhoods during the summer when people are making home improvements. I'm all for home improvement - my husband and I have remodeled two of our own from top to bottom and seen the payback in big ways - but the noise generated by this project can best be described as long fingernails going down a chalkboard for six hours/day - at 100 decibels. (It actually sounds like a front-end loader using its metal scooper to scrape large rocks.)

This started last summer and went on for three months, five days a week, six to seven hours a day. We thought he might be finished, then it resumed several weeks ago, except that sometimes he starts in the 7 AM hour (which, I'm told by the city, is within the noise ordinance). Yes, he's meeting the allowable hours just fine, but surely there has to be some exceptions for affecting the quality of life of those around you, managing the length of a disturbance, or for huge scraping sounds that keep neighbors from opening their windows, sitting on their deck or taking a walk. But apparently, there are not. Something about not holding up in court.

We've tried talking with the homeowner, investigating it with our homes association, and filing a claim with the city. But because he's improving his home, has a permit, and is doing it within the allowable hours, his need to increase his home value trumps my ability to work at home in peace and quiet. So at some point you have to surrender and say, "Okay, they win. Nothing else I can do. I'm just going to have to tolerate it and learn to work despite the assault to my ears."

Then it occurred to me how much time I had spent trying to fight something that I was never going to win, and getting worked up about something over which I had no control. Just like much of the rest of life, huh? So I decided to abandon my previous plan to put speakers on my deck and blast them with KLOVE (seems counter intuitive) and just surrender.

Just surrender. Sounds so easy. It's not a word that's used positively in today's culture. In fact, it's usually said surrounded by shame. But surrender is what God calls us to do every day in big and small ways. Surrender our less-enlightened will to His much better will; surrender our feeble plans to His much grander ones; surrender our selfishness to selflessness; and surrender our timeline to His perfect clock. And like Psalm 37:5-8 says, it's amazing how that surrender frees up your mind for more productive things like peace.

I've decided that when I hear that scraping, I will fix my mind on Him - use it as a prompt to thank Him for Jesus' words in John 16:33: "I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble (or annoyances or inconsiderate neighbors or things you can't do anything about). But take heart! I have overcome the world.” In a strange way, as it gives me peace knowing that God has a good future in store for me (Jeremiah 29:11), it also gives me a little bit of hope that this project will end and the neighborhood will return to quiet.

But I still smiled to myself when it started pouring rain this afternoon and I knew the rock-scraper was done for the day. :-)

Whooo's outside?



Photo by Ashley Hockenberry, Ontario, Canada  owlpages.com

We must have really cheap windows. (Who am I kidding – I live in a suburban house that was built in two days!) Even with the air conditioner on, I can hear what’s going on outside. And I kind of like that.

Since we moved into what I call our tree house five years ago (all I see out my windows is a sea of green in the summer), we’ve been introduced to all kinds of wildlife. The first year it was snakes (can leave those behind, thank you), we constantly have deer, still another year it was a nest of hornets I accidentally brought into our house (don’t ask), and this year, it’s an owl.

I’m a night owl (ha!) myself, so I love when Mr. Hooty comes out and starts calling for his mate. Something about his hoot is so relaxing and peaceful. Sometimes she answers back and I’ll find myself dropping my hands from the keyboard to listen to their conversation. Seems they don’t have a lot of time to talk (with them being solitary and nocturnal and all), so I hope they make good use of their time together. I hope their conversations are more than about “who” fed the kids and how many rodents they got, or “who” forgot to pay the water bill, or even “who” is going to pick up the kids after school. I hope they really make it count.

Since I can’t see them in the forest of trees, I did a little research to find out “who” might be making that sound. According to owlpages.com, I’ve concluded they’re Great Horned Owls (or Bubo virginianus). Okay, guess where they’re from (I love taxonomy - what nerdy wordy girl wouldn’t?). They were first spotted in the Virginia colonies in the 1700s, but are very common across North America.

They’re big fellas – about two feet tall with a wingspan of three to five feet! But this is the very cool thing – they only weigh a couple of pounds. Hollow bones. (Oh why couldn’t humans have jumped on that technology?!) They’re the ones with the huge orange eyes – the classic owl photo.

I also read that they can occupy the same territory for up to eight years so I guess I’m in for a few more nights of owl love.

This is like the conversation I hear at night (except mine sound a little more relaxed – these must be from the East Coast – mine are Midwesterners): http://www.learner.org/jnorth/sounds/Owl_GreatHorned_Duet.mp3

So do you find it peaceful or annoying?

The princess and the giant cupcake

Wylio.com

(And now you know the reason for the post about holding in your abs.)

The other night, Princess daughter and I were at a certain large grocery store/department store/junk store/total rip-off store that shall remain nameless. I disdain this store and was only there because of a particular item we needed. I also knew they had fairly decent bakery items (which we did not need) but since hubby was out of town, we decided we’d spend girls’ night with a giant cupcake.

And there was a beauty just sitting in the display case – all red, white and blue frostingy. When we decided that was the lucky one, I looked around for someone who could present us with our carbohydrate coma. But no one was to be found (since they’ve removed the greeters, you can’t find anyone in that store!) So I told my daughter I was going to just get it myself and I’d be right back. I pushed open the swinging door, quickly walked into the forbidden zone, slid the case door, grabbed the object of our obsession, and turned around to face a worker who immediately questioned what I was doing back there in employee zone (where was she 5 minutes ago?).

I apologized profusely and said I couldn’t find anyone to help. I took my verbal reprimand, remained humble, then moved along with my cart and Princess daughter. I began to wonder what impact my actions would have on her – would she see the bigger picture that sometimes it's just better to ask for forgiveness than permission but take your lickings gracefully when they come, or would she see that I was a terrible rule-breaker only out for myself (and frosting)?

Shortly after, a paralyzed woman sat in her wheelchair in front of the lettuce tubs. As I walked past, I noticed she looked a little distressed. She asked, “Would you mind helping me out?” “Not at all,” I replied as I showed her the variety of lettuce from which she could choose, read the expiration dates to her, then placed her selection in her lap. I asked if she needed anything else and she said no, her niece was around there to help. As we walked away, I again wondered what impact my actions would have on Princess daughter. I didn’t have to wait long as she said, “That was like the Good Samaritan. Lots of people walked by and we stopped to help.”

It’s tough having an audience that's sizing you up 24/7. Sometimes it’s fun (like when the desire to eat a giant cupcake hits you), sometimes it’s embarrassing (like when you make a decision and get chastised for it), and sometimes it’s rewarding. I guess that’s why dwelling on scripture so it becomes part of you is so critical. I guess that’s why we’re encouraged to ask for a heart of wisdom believing we will receive it. And I guess that’s why we were never meant to do on it on our own (thank you, God!).

In the end, hopefully the most questionable action I did that night was purchase a giant cupcake.

“For the Lord grants wisdom. From his mouth come knowledge and understanding.” Proverbs 2:6

Ab-solute Ab-omination

I started a new habit recently…because I’m crazy. I hold my abs in the whole time I’m in the car (while continuing to breath – very important if you’re driving). And I’ve committed to doing this every time I’m in the car (okay, not on our 12-hour vacation drive – my fingers were crossed).

Not the abs up top – those are easy. But the ones across your hipbones, the ones the work-out instructor is talking about when she says “pull that belly button back to your spine.” (I never knew what she was talking about.) The ones that help keep you from looking like Santa in your swimsuit. The ones Dr. Oz likes to point out are under there, and prove it with a giant inflatable raft full of jelly (your stomach) perched on a board. Who knew?

At first it was difficult to breath. Conversations went something like this: “Tomatoes are (pant, pant) a fruit because of (huge exhale, pant, pant) how they develop. (inhale) But since they’re mostly (pant, pant) used in savory cooking (quick little pants), they’re actually a vegetable (EXHALE…..)”

But then I started imagining I was on a talk show wearing a really tight dress. And that helped to make it more natural to talk, breathe and hold in, except I realized those celebrities get commercial breaks!!! (It helped to imagine them during those breaks with zippers exploding, buttons popping, huge potbellies sitting on their laps…)

It still takes a lot of concentration sometimes (especially if you’ve swallowed 32 ounces of liquid recently), and I wonder when the state legislature is going to outlaw holding your abs in as more dangerous than texting while driving. It would make a really awkward traffic stop: “Hello officer. I’m sorry (pant, pant) that I rear-ended that person in front of me. (hugh exhale, pant, pant) But I’m imagining I’m on a talk show wearing a really tight dress. (pant, pant, pant).”

I know, most of you have probably been doing this for years and wonder what the big deal is. Truthfully, I was not a fan – seemed like a lot of work. But as I’ve been working on increased fitness and core strength this year, I decided to take the challenge. I’m up to 20 minutes of holding in without relaxing. But when I let go…watch out – buttons may fly!

“It's a huge change for your body. You don't even want to look in the mirror after you've had a baby, because your stomach is just hanging there like a Shar-Pei.” Cindy Crawford (She’s one of those whose zipper I imagine exploding.)

Who needs cheerleaders?

The shrill screams of excitement on the other side of the pool brought me slowly out of my brain dose. As I turned my head in the direction of the joy, I saw a little girl jumping up and down in the pool, her hands raised high above her head. “I did it!” “I did it!” She exclaimed over and over for the entire world to hear.

Although I wanted to run over and find out what she had done, I held back and continued to watch her. The celebration went on for a few minutes, but I still didn’t find out what she had done.  I’m guessing she held her breath for an extended period, maybe did several underwater somersaults in a row, or perhaps she perfected a stroke. But regardless of the accomplishment, that exuberance and celebration of pure joy was inspiring. And motivating. And humbling.

You know, I seldom see an adult show that level of excitement at their achievement. Even adults who have all the reason in the world to let everyone know, seldom do – those who’ve gone back to school to finish or get degrees; those who’ve shown integrity in a difficult job situation despite the possible repercussions; who’ve stepped forward to raise a child not birthed by them;  or those who’ve stood up for an elderly parent, sick child, or disabled neighbor. There are so many people who have a reason to jump up and down, and yet, they go quietly about their business, committed to the next goal and next good work.

I wonder how life would be different if we’d take a moment and celebrate our accomplishments every once in awhile. Maybe we’d realize how much we really have if we’d stop and do a little happy dance. Maybe our outlook on life, other people, even ourselves, would pick up a bit if we took a moment to cheer for ourselves. Maybe we’d slow down and appreciate life a little more if we spiked the ball (so to speak) before we moved on to the next task or goal.

That’s my challenge this week – and for you, too. Take a moment to loudly exclaim “I did it!” I know, people around you may start dialing the number to the closest psych ward, but don’t allow it to deter you. Celebrate an accomplishment, and do it so others can hear.

“Be full of joy all the time.” 1 Thessalonians 5:16

Even Bill Cosby might agree

It's been WAY too long since I wrote my last entry. In fact, thinking of starting this blog fresh and anew. Perfect timing as I've joined Jeff Goins on The 15-Day Challenge to adopt the writing habits of great writers and we have....HOMEWORK! (Jeff Goins 15-Day Challenge)

I'm coaching authors now to help them get their book written. And although it seems I spend most of my days mired in words, they're not my words, and I kinda miss that. Everyone says to me, "You need to write a book about Princess Daughter!" And although I find her (in the yellow hat) hysterically funny and charming, not sure how interested the world would be in reading endless stories about her. I've considered using them to draw life conclusions or reveal character qualities of God, but not quite sure.

I am thinking about creating an ebook through Kindle Direct so I can experience what many of my clients will be doing, and so I can provide amazing insights and advice to them, but we'll see where this all goes. In the mean time, here's today's Princess daughter fix.

Leaving swim lessons today, Princess Daughter and I began talking about the shapes of various people in our family. When we got to my brother (her uncle), she exclaimed that he did have a six-pack for abs. I thought my brother would be very happy to hear that (he works hard on his physique), until she added "A six-pack of pudding cups, that is!"

What life conclusion or character quality do you draw from that? Since nothing jumps to mind (and I'm still pondering those book ideas), let's just leave it at that. Perhaps it's a reminder to do our sit-ups.

The Gift that Keeps on Being Given

I think I have received the gift at least six times. The first time was Christmas 1976 from my parents. Since then, it has proudly been presented to me in a variety of gift bags with tattered tissue paper hastily thrown in by 7-year-old Princess daughter. I make a big deal about the gift every time I receive it, then put it back in her room several days later. It showed up the other day when she knew I was having a bit of a rough time.

This ever-appearing gift that represents my little one's sacrifice and desire to please me reminds me of the greatest gift I've received - the day Christ released me from a life of bondage. Just when I think, "this time I've done it," His gift reappears and reminds me that his mercies are new each day.

When I can't imagine that I could deserve such generosity, He tells me that as my father, He owns everything and wants to share it all with me.

And when I consider the love that spurs yet another round of gifting, I am humbled that I was chosen to receive the gift, yet again.

I smile as I look at the bottom of the gift - a boxed set of "Little House on the Prairie" books - and read the cheesy comment I wrote on it more than 30 years ago: "This box holds a special treasure to me." The giver knows that, which is why I'm expecting the gift to show up in a few weeks on my birthday.