Brynn is pukey. What are the odds... yesterday was the first day she ever sat up in the basket part at Walmart. And of course she put her mouth on the bar, we don't have a cover yet. Then she wakes up puking last night... sigh.
I received the offering, and told the MOG to turn on the light.. and there she is, in our bed... sicky and all wet and SMILING. She was so happy to see us... what a cutie. Anyhoo, that's the deal-eo today. Puke. I feel a little nauseous myself, talking about it.

>>Link>> This is NOT good news.

In other news, my inner healing class was really good last night. I don't know how much traditional inner healing I need. I mean, I wasn't abused by anyone, and my parents were great. My wounds are all from my life imploding as an adult... people were dropping like flies for a while in my early 20's. So that's where I got most jacked up.

But anyhoo, last night was all about Father Wounding, which is, you know, how your dad wounded you and screwed up your life by being such a loser in your childhood. And a lot of people had bad dads, so I know that pain is valid. I just think I've been through the issues of my own heart enough that I'm pretty cautious about throwing stones. And that's kind of what this class is, throwing stones and hitting your pillow and letting it all out. Like I said, valid. But uh, a little elementary. Not that I've arrived. I've just had excellent training in my family and through MCF, and I like that kind of personal accountability better.

So anyways, last night I realized that my dad was a great dad. No real complaints. He was far from a perfect person, but a good dad. But still, there's this disconnect between me and God as a father. So that's where I was last night. Dealing with my disappointment with God, and releasing Him from that... (for my sake) and just trying to open myself up to love Him and trust Him again. And I wept copiously, although not as loudly as the small group next door who were hitting things (not really) and gasping and groaning and WHY-ing and so on. It's not funny, it's good they are getting healed.
But it is a little funny.

I have nothing to say.

That being said, I wish I could take a nap. All the elements are in place but my wee brain will not go to sleep. And now I have whiled away naptime and Toby will wake up any minute and I will.still.be.tired.

Sheesh.

This is a clip from Saturday Night Live... holier folk than I will deny ever watching this show. But when Huckabee makes headlines for a skit, you better believe I be hittin the Youtube. So there you go.


Somebody... probably Snarky Anonimi asked me the other day about Huck. Here's the deal. It is not outside the realm of possibilty for God to put this guy in office. It is, however, unlikely. I still like him a lot and I understand why he is still in the race. Far too many conservatives are just not happy with McCain and he is presenting an alternative. Power to him. If McCain gets the official nomination in a couple of months, then Huck will quit campaigning. I wish he could win. But you know, regardless, I like the guy and I think he is VERY funny.

So my political plan, because I know you're dying to hear, is to brush up on all the other offices. And vote for as many pro-life, conservative candidates as I can for all the other offices. And possibly leave my ballot blank for Prez. That's the current plan.

Another one of those days when technology comes back around and just bites you in the butt... figuratively speaking.
I captured a 3 minute video of Toby dancing to Toby Mac... it was perfect. And somehow I deleted it before it imported. I can hear my dad from heaven, "Technology? Sounds like user malfunction to me!"
(sigh)
Regardless, or irregardless if you prefer, it's gone. And I was going to post it here. Now I will have to catch him in that mood again and try to catch another jam session. Cest la vie.

It's Friday, finally. The MOG has a block of time at home today, althought thus far it has been spent praying in the basement. Deep praying, I suspect from the crease marks on his forehead. (In his defense, he was praying when I went down there a while ago)
I am now sequestered in my room. Bean is sleeping in here, R2 is chilling with Nemo and Toby is in his room, napping. Which includes scooting his bed around the room and falling down and screaming between short silences that are probably aborted nap attempts. Whatevs. The point is, I am, for some intents and purposes, alone. I should read. Good day.

I have this thing... strange crying moments. I don't know what it's called.... here's how it goes. I can be watching TV, or out in public, whatever. And I see someone talented. Like a children's dance act or someone singing. And I just start crying.
Here's a weird part. I don't have to like the singer, or whatever. Just something grabs my heart and I cry. Surprises me every time.
I usually feel like a goof, I mean, who cries at Star Search? Or some kid singing the anthem? I do, evidently.

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So last night the little guys and I watched Idol. Toby has clear favorites... there's the rocker nurse chick, and he just jumps up and starts busting a groove. I don't like her, but if he could vote...
I think I have an inborn prejudice toward long-haired blonde singers. I automatically don't like 'em. I like sassy black soul singers. Just my .02.

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Fear not, readers. My spiritual journey continueth. Updates on that sometime when I have words for it. Peace out.

Last night was my second inner healing class... I was relieved to find I am not suffering greatly from Mother Wounding. It was interesting, though. In our small group time about half of the women were just sobbing and I really wanted to pray for them. (It's against the rules, only the group leaders can lay hands) But it was cool that my heart was moved and I actually wanted to reach out to someone else. It was a good class... sometimes I think I could teach it, but you know, I'm not all that. I am trying to turn off the analytics and receive from God for myself. So that's that.

In other news, American Idol is in full swing and I have selected a few favorites. Anybody with me?

In other, other news, I am sick of diapers. I clean up more human waste than a sewage company. Sheesh.

Fidel Castro has resigned. Or, is he dead? Time might tell. Maybe him and Osama have a nice cabana somewhere... or not.
His brother has taken the helm at the sprightly age of 76. No offense to my friends and family who have reached senior status, but uh, isn't that kind of old to start running a country? I'm just saying.
So Arafat and Hussein are gone, and probably Castro. These are historical days... I guess all days are historical, but these old-timers kicking the bucket is big news.
Who knows what the world will look like in 10 years... people I went to high school with will be eligible to run for President. Yikes. May God have mercy on our souls.

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In other news, no news. Just chillin in the house with the wee folk, toying with productivity. Trying to get motivated to start dinner... but the MOG is fasting and the young gents would like pbjs as much or better than beef stroganoff. And so I blog.

Last week, I guess Friday, R2 was out playing in the backyard and he drove his little car into a rut. He then proceeded to get very very mad and bash his head into the steering wheel approximately 5000 times (exaggeration) before I made it across the yard to stop him. At the time it was pretty crushing to me, I hate it when he hurts himself. Now, it's just one of those things... you deal with with a special needs kid.
The problem is, he bruised his head pretty magnificently. As in, a dark oval bruise going from his hairline to the top of his nose. He looks like a Klingon. He doesn't appear to be in any pain... he has forgotten about it. But we, the family are probably sequestered here all week until it heals... the police and whatnot.
Last night we went out to eat to celebrate our tax return... we made him wear a baseball cap. He really hated it. But he wore it.

I don't know how we're going to teach him to cope with his frustration... we will have to figure out something. One thing that occurs to me, is controlling MY frustration... when I knock into things 10000 times a day, when I drop dishes, etc.

So that's that. A week in. Maybe I will finally go through all the clothes and get rid of stuff. More stuff. Again.

jESS,

How old were you when you first KNEW that God had a purpose for your life, and what were you doing at that time?

Well...
This is a little tricky for me. I got "saved" when I was 16. I got "saved" more when I was 19, in Issues of the Heart. And I need to get "saved" now. So I don't really know.
You know, I just believe that there has to be fruit. And I've got little to no fruit that I'm looking at, in terms of disciples and or/fruits of the Spirit. And you can go ahead and say, Hey! You're patient and kind and blah blah blah. But that won't really cut it, because I live with me. And so I know.
Before I lost the twins, I felt a lot of purpose. I really loved being a part of what Radiant was doing, and I was getting so excited and faith-filled and seeing people get healed and such. Then the twins, and I just got shell-shocked, or sidelined or something. I was sick of fighting, and I sat down. So here I am nearly 5 years later and not really sure how to stop the crazy train.

I want to be passionate and filled with vision. And I keep waiting for the kickstart that will make it easy to get back where I was, or even grow past that. My fear is, maybe there is no kickstart. And maybe I have to motivate myself to pursue a God that confuses the heck out of me. Don't misunderstand me... I love Him. I want to serve Him. But I don't get Him sometimes. If He would just capture me, that would be a heck of a lot easier than trying to love Him so that I have any desire for Him or love for people at all.

Sorry if that's a depressing answer. You just happened to catch me at a particularly purpose-less stage.

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