humble pie

Humble Pie? Yes, Please.


Want a piece of humble pie? Try this. Read your old journals. I’ve been reading my old journals. That I’ve written since I was 12. I can’t even.

Describes me from age 12 to say, 45: Narcissistic. Silly. Ridiculous. Delusional.

I know, you’re thinking, uh, yeah. We knew.

Then why the heck didn’t you tell me? But you were narcissistic (and often the victim), you say. True. I’d have thought it was like, so your problem not mine. Like NBD. Learn some boundaries, people. I’m on my journey. You’re on yours.

I wish age wasn’t the thing here. The thing that allows you to stop. Stop the obsessing about yourself. Stop the insanely, crazy idea that you must be happy or well, well, you just must. (Truly, happiness is a state of mind.) I wish age didn’t soften the edges or turn the mind toward others, but

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Christians, Gays, Transgenders and Lord Help Us


Everybody is a Donald Trump anymore. Everybody has turned so mean.

And since I am a Christian, it is even more upsetting that Christians are mean, too.

I am referring to mean conservative Christians who shout ugly things about gays, transgenders, and whoever else to the rooftops. And, I am referring to mean liberal Christians who name call and hurl insults at their conservative counterparts.

Somehow, both the liberals and the conservatives ended up with God on their side. Amazingly.

The liberals like to make everyone look stupid, and the conservatives like to make everyone look immoral. One group shouts stupid, one group shouts sinful. Both groups like to toss around the phrase “What would Jesus do?” insinuating that the other group was not behaving as Jesus would, since both groups seem pretty convinced that they know what Jesus would actually do.

Poor Jesus. What a tug

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What God Did


Sometimes it’s important to tell others what God has done in our lives. You never know, maybe that person is in a similar situation, or any old situation, where someone like God would be darn useful.

So, here’s a story–really the pared down version–of what God did in my life when I had no money, no job, no home and no plan.

I was divorcing and for all the convoluted stories divorces can be, I won’t go into how this next thing happened, but it did. The ex got the house, and most of the money. I hadn’t worked in 15 years (stay-at-home mom), and was unemployed when this happened.

Here’s what I needed: a home, money to move, a job that would pay for myself and my son, and a plan. A really good plan.

The plan was the thing that bugged me the most. I

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How Long Do You Get to Live?


Just yesterday.

A woman said.

“I can live until 77.” Cracking a joke everyone over 50 identifies with.

I thought, when is the value of a life measured in dollars and cents?

Of course, she was referring to her retirement account and it’s longevity. Which seems to be the determinate of a lifespan (at least among my crowd) these days.

Saving for retirement is a lot like saving for a child’s college. Completely necessary, often forgotten, and, I would add, not always realistic when college tuition is skyrocketing, and stocks are dive bombing. I was told 2 things regarding old age.

  1. Marry well so someone can take care of you in your old age.
  2. If you don’t marry well, have a lot of children so they can take care of you in your old age.

I did neither. I’ll add that neither did I work

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Skinny Girls and Over-50 Girls


You know what I really don’t like? Women who post pictures of their food and it’s pancakes piled high with syrup dripping everywhere, bacon, eggs, and a slab of ham for good measure, and that woman is a size 2. And then, later that same day, she posts pics of her peanut butter pie with chocolate sauce on her face, captioned, “Peanut Butter Pie!!” As if we can’t see that. It’s all over her social media. You can’t escape it.

I’m sorry. I’m 56. The word metabolism left my vocabulary just like it left my body somewhere in my mid-40’s. Listen it’s a 19 year old’s world (and girls, enjoy it now), because once you’re over 50, unless you’re fasting the other 6 days a week, there is no eating like that. If there is, something ain’t right.

On our first snowy morning, I delighted Micah with

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Morning Bible Study

A Morning Bible Study


I’ve learned, over the years, to reach for my Bible first thing each morning. Nothing else can come first. Well, a pot of coffee can, and the dog gets to go outside to pee, but that’s it. I won’t even switch last night’s load of laundry because we all know what would happen if I did. And, my phone is turned off.

It goes like this. I read the chapter, pick the first 5-6 verses, and begin. Here’s my page header.

Galatians 1: 1-5       January 11, 2016  

I divide each verse into a, b, and c.

1a) From Paul, an apostle (not appointed by men, or a human agency, but by Jesus Christ, and God the Father, who raised him [Jesus] from the dead). 1b) God raises the dead and God gives us our appointments. 1c) What appointment has God given me?

A: I

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Gather the Moments of Your Life


Gather the moments of your life.

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I mean this literally. Find something to gather with. I have so many gardening baskets, I’ll use one of those. For you, maybe it’s a tailgate basket. Or a big, beach bag. Or a grocery bag. It doesn’t matter. Take something, because this is important. It is important because it is your life, and it tells a story. I want you to see your beautiful story. I want you to see how beautiful you are. So, take whatever it is, and grab a notepad.

Walk through your home. What do you see? Pictures, books, journals, toys, a table, a chair? Notice it all. Pick it up, examine it. Let your mind go back to the day of significance. Open

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From a MIL to all you DILs: Some Advice


During my child-raising years, I led a women’s weekly Bible Study. I was blessed to do so.

It was a large group of women and, as you can imagine, many came to me with prayer requests. To my astonishment, the primary request was, “Pray for my relationship with my mother-in-law.” When I inquired as to the problem, not surprisingly, the problem was always the mother-in-law. As much as I loved every woman in that group (and I did, with great devotion), I gotta say, most of the complaints were downright petty. I wondered who the problem really was.

My mil said this, she did so-n-so with the kids, I hate her food, she hates mine, the holidays, and on and on the grievances went.

As my mom used to say, “Don’t take offense where offense is not meant, and generally speaking, it is not meant.”

Touché. And
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Rest, Transplanted and Still Blooming, Cinthia Milner

Get Some Rest (And some Takeout)


Lately, when I wake up, before I even open my eyes, my mind forms the words, “Lord, send back-up. I’m pooped.”

He hasn’t.

I’m still waiting.

Today, I got a little aggravated. It isn’t every day that I openly acknowledge running out of steam. It isn’t every day that I cop to being too exhausted to run the world, or my itty-bitty portion of it. I rarely admit to being overwhelmed or unable. I know, silly me. But, since I did cop to it, I figured God would send in the troops. I imagined him proud and waving off his angels to aid me, saying, “Yes, go. She’s finally learned a new word: Help.”

Well, I did learn a new word. So where the heck is the help? Are the angels delayed as they were with Daniel? (Daniel 10:12) Fighting off the kings of Persia? Is Persia
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