The Tiger Room...

We have a housewarming party this weekend. My sister has been bugging me for weeks for pics of my room. And since I'm going to be visiting her in Florida this weekend, I'm going to miss the party. I've not seen her for months so I'm excited.

I made my room into little areas that each have a purpose.
The paint color is called Normandy Gray. Gray. Not purple.
The first thing I hear when people see my room is
"We've turned you into an LSU fan!"

I like to read. Have since I was a little girl. I always got in trouble for staying up too late and reading. Just one more chapter Mom!

All the little frames with quotes on them are little witty things my friends have said, or something that encourages me or makes me think...

A wall...

My little office area...

Get God Grinnin'...

I've been thinking about this for a few days now. And every time I do, a little smile crinkles my eyes. Sunday night I went to church. I sit off in a usually deserted area of the gym. Not because I don't like people, I just tend to make sure they are taken care of instead of letting myself interact with Him. To remove the temptation to distract myself, I sit alone. Every once in a while, the section will fill up. Its fun because when the night starts out, its just me, but by the end of it, there are quite a few faces sitting behind or beside me.

This sunday, a friend of mine came and sat with me. Her daughter and boyfriend in tow. We chit-chatted during the greeting time, then the band struck up another tune for us to sing. We all start singing. That's when I heard them. She and her daughter. Singing to Him. It was really beautiful. One high and filled with light, the other soft and peaceful. Whatever my thoughts on marriage and children, it was very sweet to hear a mother and daughter worship together.

Sometimes I'll stop singing so I can hear my church praise God in song. Its the coolest thing. You can tell He's grinning when we praise Him. Most of the time I'm singing to the tops of my lungs, and admittedly I'm consistently out of tune. But I won't let those rocks cry out before I do...

Brownies & Braveheart...

I'm sitting here trying to not lean in the direction of my kitchen. Braveheart is on my tv. And there's a pan of brownies in the exact center of my oven. I'm calm. Everything is fine. The timer is on and will tell me when they are done...

The kids at my church are going to camp and tomorrow is their fundraiser. BBQ chicken. Yum. Having gotten to the point where I actually once again am a functioning member of soceity, this was my first time to check my email in a few days. Among my emails was one about this weekend. They needed help seasoning chicken and baking brownies. Seasoning chicken I couldn't do because I was already sneezing enough as the aftereffects of strep, but I could give it a shot with brownies.

Sigh. Baking. Almost like cooking, but with sweeter results. I'd been told what to bake so that part was done. Now I just follow through with the rest. Went to the store, bought the things I needed, including a brownie pan.

Game face. I wash the new pan, get everything out of the bags, and start reading the box. I also get out my cell phone, knowing I would call two people if I needed help. One is Fatty. She is a marvelous cook. Growing up, she and my Dad would cook in the kitchen, I would clean it. The second is my father. Called Dad with my first problem. The temperature setting. It says 350 for a metal pan or 325 for a dark or coated pan. Welllll. The pan I just bought is a metal coated pan. What the mess?! Call Dad, of course he's wonderful. He knows I'm not the most confident in the kitchen unless I'm cleaning it, so he listens and then gives his wisdom.

I told him to keep his cell by him. I have four boxes so its going to be a long night. OH! The one-minute timer just went off! I really hope they are edible...

Across the Universe...

Well, I'm on the mend. Right now I'm sitting with my roomies in my living room, there's a movie on, I've taken my meds, and there's a bowl of half eaten pecan pie and vanilla ice cream tempting me to finish it.

The past few weeks have been hard. However, God has been great through it. My friends have been great through it. There was a spell there where I was a bit worried. I'd cry everyday, pick fights just because, and wonder why every single thing I do is selfish.

Enough.

Enough of that. My God is inconceivably kind, even when life knocks me on my butt. Sure I'll cry, I'll piss and moan, and He will still be by my side. How amazing. I've always loved stability. And He is quite good at that. He's blessed me in ways that I could not even imagine. My family is so far away, but I can always call them. My friends love me through some of the most rocky times of my adult life, and when I so desperately want a place to call home, He gives me one. With two of the most lovely women of God I've ever had the privilege to know.

Jai guru deva om.

Are you kidding me?!

It's 11:11am on a weekday. I'm in bed. And its driving me batty. Yesterday I got sent to the doctor by my office. My eyes were red and I had a fever. I call my doctor and ask for the first available appointment. They had one in twenty minutes if I could make it.

I go over there, a little paperwork later, a few minutes with the doctor, temperature of 102, and I'm left with the result. It's either strep throat or mononucleosis. She gave me a prescription for strep and said if I break out with a rash, its mono. Wonderful.

Well, I have ZERO time for this. Seriously. I drop off my prescription, then head back to the office. It's 4pm. I've got something I need to finish before the end of the day, then I need to go babysit at 6pm.

I complete an online order for some soup before I leave my office. At 10 till 5, the sky opens up and its pouring buckets. Sigh. Doesn't matter, I have to go pick up my prescription, and then go babysit. The streets were already flooding so traffic tripled my travel time. I made it to the church about ten minutes late, but I was there. I'd already decided that I was going to have to tell the parents I was sick and feverish. I refuse to put those little ones in my hands knowing I was contagious without their parents being aware of it.

The lady I help was there when I walked in. She took one look at me and told me to go home. She said I was pale, more pale than usual, and I should leave. So now I was left with not wanting to leave her by herself and not wanting to get the kids sick. In the end, I went home. But I wasn't happy about it.

Wake up this morning, and I'm burning up. Ugh. I'm achy, and every once in a while, I shiver myself awake from the stupor I'm in. And now I'm bored. Hence this post. I can't rest cuz I'm thinking about all the stuff I need to do, and I can't do anything cuz whether I want to or not, I'm physically not able to do it.

Gentle and Quiet!

Tonight I had community group. Which is fine. I like cg. What I didn't expect was completely turning into a sap and losing it. Tears, snot, and a terribly shocking amount of vulnerability. I used to be open to the idea of being vulnerable, but the older I get the more I find its better to be guarded.

If I've managed to pull the wool over your eyes, you have no idea what I'm talking about. The crux of the matter is that I'm exhausted. And its starting to affect my attitude. Actually its affecting all sorts of things, my job performance, my relationship with my roomies, my relationship with my God.

Its been a gradual affectation. At first it was one thing, then another, then they just kept coming. Hit after hit. All relating to my family and my heart. I feel far away. Last night at church I could barely keep my eyes open. I stood, then sat there, wanting desperately to feel something but not having anything left to give. Not to Him, not to you. I just don't have anything left. Do I fight when I don't feel?

So me being tired means I make mistakes at work, at home, with my heart. Everywhere I look in my life I see sin and shame. Then comes the pressure I put on myself to be less of well, me. Could I be more holy, more pure, more of a gentle and quiet spirit that is precious in His sight?

Instead of whining about my life, I will try to keep it in. Gentle and quiet spirit. I can do that. I think. I can shut up and keep it all in. I can. I think I can. Ok, I'm going to give it my best effort...

A wedding story...

So tonight I had a wedding. Memorable moments of the whole thing include:

No pastor at the rehearsal. I've yet to have a pastor attend the rehearsal.

During rehearsal the groomsmen were onstage not paying one single bit of attention to what they were doing so I had to snap at them like they were children. "Gentlemen, (snap, snap) I need you to pay attention for a few minutes. Get your gameface on." One of them muttered that they felt like they were in the army.

At the wedding:

My assistant was 45 minutes late.

I learned how to put cufflinks on. I thought they were supposed to fit snug on the cuff, but apparently not. There was a lot of room when I put them on the brides' dad.

The pastor remembered me. I thought he was making polite pastor conversation until he said my hair had gotten longer. Then we talked about how his daughter wants "curly cues" in her hair. I asked him how his church was going, and that I'd wanted to visit, but my heart was at the ring. He said that the ring was a good place to have my heart and his church was doing great.

I walked into the choir room to go get the ladies and get this shindig started. The pastor was in there and he led us all in prayer. He was praying for the bride to enjoy the day and calm her nerves. I didn't really understand his prayer until a few minutes later. As I'm telling them to line up, she asks me if she has time to throw up again. Poor darlin'.

Of course I told her no and switched out her sprite for her bridal bouquet...

Maybe she can be held...

Christopher is up to 3 lbs. 11 oz. They put him in an open crib yesterday. Jennifer (Ryan's wife) said he has discovered his hands and he's funny to watch. Taylor seems to be doing better with her breathing. They are going to try and change Taylor's ventilator to a cpap which is placed over the nose. Then they could hold Taylor.

I don't know much about babies. But it appears they like to be held. The older I get the more I realize that there's comfort in hugs, handshakes, high fives. Everyone needs to be cuddled once in a while. I guess I'd never realized that little one had never been held before. Maybe that will change soon...

"Taylor's still here"

This morning, like most mornings, I woke up to my clock radio. The DJ was doing a phrase of the day win a trip somewhere competition. I know this because they've been doing it all week. This morning the first word was "Taylor." I only caught the first word. Tonight my roomies and I are sitting in the living room just chatting and I tell them about the word I woke up to this morning which had me yet again praying for Taylor. Courtney says yeah, the whole phrase was "Taylor's still here."

Do you believe in coincidences?

Baby Dedication...

Last night was baby dedication at my church. It was lovely. Definitely one of the "top services I'm thrilled to be a part of" list I keep tucked away in my heart.

One of our elders talked about the miracle God did with his little baby boy. It was a bit scary what they as a family walked through, but God was faithful throughout it all. They have a perfectly healthy baby boy as testament to that. As he was talking about what God had done for his baby, it made me think of Taylor. I've thought about her a lot lately. Last night she was heavy on my heart. I wasn't sure if she had made a complete recovery or if she'd been gently cradled back home to heaven. I do know that the stress of the past weeks have pulled me so much that tears are always near the surface. And that when I start crying its really hard to pull it back together and stop. Its a clear indication that means I'm truly exhausted.

Sunday nights at church are a response for me. Whether its for the past week, in anticipation of the next week, or just the moment of being near Him, there's always some sort of reaction. Last night were tears and incoherent thoughts and feelings. Every time something was said about Him or His character, I'd just lose it.

I have no idea what happens next. My parents are waiting for a phone call about a funeral. I think I am too. I can't tell anymore. I want His will, but I honestly don't want her to hurt anymore.

I don't bear suffering children gracefully.

Baby Update...

Sounds like Taylor is a little more stable now. Yesterday one of her lungs was closing up but they have done 2 breathing treatments and it is fine now. She is still draining and passing fluid. She's hanging in there. Jennifer (Ryan's wife) said she opened her eyes a lot last night when they were there. She did have a little poop which means her intestines are working some anyway. Who would have thought that would be important news? Even though the PDA (hole in heart) has opened back up, she is not having any symptoms from it. They will leave it alone until she is more stable and then they will do surgery on it.

Christopher is doing great...

The Newest Millers...

This is my brother Ryan and his newborn son, Christopher. I would show you a picture of his twin sister Taylor, but they are too disturbing. They were born a few months early. Christopher is doing great. I even have a picture of him sucking his thumb...

Taylor, however, is not doing good. In fact, she's not ok. She's got hydrocephalus. Which is a big long word for water on her brain. All of her bodily functions are completed through tubes. She's got bacteria in her belly which makes her tummy stiff that they are trying to knock out. She's been taken off feeding because her esophagus is not attached to her stomach. You can't pump a baby full of morphine, so while she is sedated all the time, she is in pain.

Hearing all this yesterday all I could do was cry. Cry for her. For her parents. I don't know this child. I've only recently talked to Ryan. And this little girl is tugging on my heartstrings. As I was painting last night she was on my mind. Can she, would she, survive being brought into the world like this?

I have random verses of scripture that hold me accountable, encourage me, and spur me on taped to my computer and desk at work. One of them has Isaiah 30:15,18 on it:

In repentence and rest is your salvation,
in quietness and trust is your strength....
The Lord longs to be gracious to you:
He rises to show you compassion.
For the Lord is a God of justice.
Blessed are all who wait for Him.

Trust. Oddly enough its a hard thing for me in my life. One of my top three. I trust Him to completely take care of everything for you. I ask Him in full confidence believing He'll work wonders in your life. Flip it to when I'm praying for me and asking for miracles, signs and wonders, and I feel selfish for asking. He says to wait on Him. I know He knows what is going on here. Nothings taking Him by surprise. That's one of the things I love about Him. He's even keel. No sudden letting go of me, or pushing me away when I just need Him to listen and hold me close. My tears don't catch Him off guard. He gave me this heart and isn't surprised when the crap of this world breaks it.

I may not be laughing at the days to come, but He'll do His will in this. So I will wait. I will trust.

My First Diaper Change!

So yesterday was Tuesday. Which meant I was babysitting. Except there were a whole lot more of them. I had three under the age of two and 8 older ones. A last minute 'please come help me I can't do this alone' came through, so that was wonderful. While last night was a bit crazy, a few things are noteworthy.

First, I changed my first diaper! The wee one I'm talking about usually gets changed right before her parents get there to take her home to bed. And she hates having her diaper changed. Wails like its the roughest thing on earth to get your tush clean. I'd been mentally gearing up for this all night. I knew she was going to pout and while I was sorry for that, she was not leaving that room without a fresh diaper.

Ok, game face on, its go time. I pick her up. I'd already prepped the changing table with wipes, a glove, and a few cookies in case of emergency. I lay her down and after she realizes what is happening, starts yelling. At this point I'm fighting with her bloomers and kind of treating this like a nascar pit stop. Be fast and efficient and get it over and done with. She's wailing so I just start talking to her. Not in a 'stop that right now tone of voice', but a soft, gentle, I know you don't like this but I'm right here and we'll get through this together tone of voice. I pretty much use the same technique with spooked horses. Soft tone, no jerky movements, calm, serene. And it worked! If I kept talking to her she was distracted enough to not yell. And the most surprising bit of all was that the diaper stayed on her. It didn't fall off!

I also realized that I have a favorite that I babysit. His name is Christian and he's cute as a button. He's 5 and he's a little brown-haired green eyed boy that tugs on my heartstrings. He's very polite and has some of the funniest tones of voice. Like when he's surprised. He says stuff like "wow, I can't believe that that just happened." He seriously cracks me up. And he's a fantastic listener, and he shares with the other kids. Gosh I could go on forever about what a good little boy he is.

I'm thankful that God lets me love these wee ones. He gives me opportunities to love on people daily and I hope I take advantage of all of them. I'd hate to miss an opportunity to love. But I'm gonna need to stop babysitting pretty soon. Otherwise I'm going to continue falling in love with those little ones. Which will lead me to wonder about my children. If I'll have any, what they would be like, look like, if I'll be young enough to run around with them, etc. Its a fear of mine that dreams about children don't glorify Him so I try to avoid anything that encourages that. Sigh, that's by far one of my most vulnerable slippery slopes. In the meantime, I'm surrounded by children, and my heart is light just being near them...

What it is...

So far here are some of the responses to what it could be:

• A redneck's bidet.
• Tub cleaner.
• Rinsing the toilet when you clean it.
• Spraying your friend in the shower.
• Maybe a guy lived there and that’s how he cleaned the bathroom.
• A "rig" to clean the tub.
• Something to assist washing kids.
  

I sent a picture to a few of my coworkers here. They are engineers so of course they are brilliant. I told them everything I know about it. That its a little odd looking and boy oh boy does it have a good amount of pressure behind that little "spigot".

One of our engineers is from Venezuela. She told me it was a bidet. That they are common there and look like that, connected to the toilet. She also said that they use them to wash babies. Shut the lid on the toilet and get a little plastic tub to wash the little ones.

So there you go. Last night I got sprayed in the face with a bidet.