I spent the majority of my youth pastor years as a staunch anti-dating advocate. (the first part of my youth pastor career, I was 17, and dating, so I was pro-dating back then) The thing was, and is, teenagers are idiots. Go ahead and howl, idiot teenagers. In a couple of years you'll agree with me. Teenagers are great at making terrible decisions, and with 100+ in our little "flock", I guess we figured the easiest way to keep the hormones at bay was to strongly discourage dating. We did a lot of stuff wrong, but I'm not sure how much of this particular issue I'd change, if we did it all again.

I have made a reversal of sorts in recent years, as all of my youth group kids have quit being idiot teenagers and started being at least semi-responsible adults. And that is why I am telling them meet a nice girl and settle down. 


I think this concept of "the one" has really hurt us, in the church. When I take my 5 year old to the Dollar Tree, sometimes I give him the option of choosing 1, and only 1, toy. He will walk back and forth for as long as I will let him, trying on a pirate hat, then swinging a plastic bat, dry-shooting a water gun, etc. At some point I have to say, enough. Just pick one. It's agonizing. Listen, guys and girls: there are multiple people you could be blissfully happy and soulmated with, on this earth. The "one" is a myth. 


I'm no expert, I mean, I got married when I was like, 12. But from my 32 years of life, I see some pretty clear issues. There is a SURPLUS of single Christian men and women. And I think a lot of people are holding back from engaging in friendship and getting-to-know-you because they have a list, and if they pick an inferior candidate, they will never be happy. Hogwash. There's something to be said for arranged marriages. Stop looking for perfection and start seeing the beauty around you. She will be fat and he will be bald in 30 years, anyway, so maybe look a little deeper. Talk to people, get to know them and their humor and their passions and their pain. Sheesh. People are great. I have rarely met a person I didn't love something about, once I talked to them enough.

This is kind of a rant, because I know plenty of single people that are awesome and waiting.  I'm mostly talking to guys when I say quit being shallow and start seeing deeper, but I'm not just talking to guys.


So look around you, see the depth and the kindness and the character and the loveliness and ask someone to coffee. Worse case, you get shot down. Let me reassure you again, the "one" is a myth.

---

Liz. Ask her out. She's awesome.

I'm not such the fan of nature. I mean, I love the God who created all things, and I dig flowers and sunsets or whatever... I just don't really get into touching nature. There's bugs out there, and no climate control, and there's nowhere to sit.

Sit on the grass, you say. Lie down on the grass and stare up into the cloudless sky. Like heck I will. Lie down in the grass, which is probably a little damp, and just an inch from dirt, and likely, VERY likely to be crawling with insects. No thanks. When I see a beautiful woman lying on the ground in a movie, all I can think about is crawly things in her luscious flowing hair. Oh, and when you stare into the sky, it hurts your eyes. So.

Or picnics. Why? Why take my food outside where it is hot, and there are ants and mosquitoes and bees and dogs? I like to eat at the table, with the air conditioning on. I like to sit on a chair, or maybe a couch, not a blanket on top of dirt and rocks and grass, and again, BUGS.

Sometimes the MOG and I will be driving, and he'll stop and get all choked up about some trees and hills and the sun and such. And I look, you know. Noted. Beautiful day. Nice surroundings. Let's move it along.

I'm not anti-nature. I like to go to the beach and look at it, from my hotel room. I see the waves and breakers, the expanse of shore, the brilliant sky and light, the birds rising and falling like the waves; all the while, sitting with a book in a recliner, and temperature control. Win-win.

It always amazes me, people who go for walks and hikes and camping. Quirky. Give me a quality piece of furniture and something to eat.

Indoors, with sunshine. 

I know in the end times, maybe it will be all apocalyptic and we'll be living in caves or something. I will probably be one of the first to go, dying from exposure to the outdoors. It's just a risk I have to take.

Everyone, stop the presses. Those of you who have presses. The rest can just... look over here for a minute. I bought a deep freezer. Wait! That's interesting! Stick around!

Years ago, I read The Complete Tightwad Gazette, and I got lots of ideas about being frugal. I'm into being frugal, to the point that it's a tiny bit of a neurosis. Like, I don't reuse baggies or wash foil, but I get my money's worth out of a Kleenex, and I buy all our clothes at thrift stores, because come on, new clothes are ridiculously overpriced. Stuff like that. But in this book, she teaches a lot of good practical tips for saving money and living simply. It was before the internet, so some of the stuff is goofy, like phone books. Ha! Phone books.

Anyway, that book and others like it have always caused a yearning in my soul to have a deep freezer and buy meat on sale and always cook inexpensively and creatively. But I never bought a deep freezer, and buying meat always stressed me out because I overcook it and it's so pricey. I just make stew. All the time.

And stew is great, when you have a community of people around, either living with you or coming in and out, eating occasionally. Beans and cornbread, lentil stew, that's how we roll. But I'm trying to grow up and learn how to cook real meals, you know, that go on a plate and have multiple items on that plate like meat, vegetable... you know the drill. Somehow I never got this down.

So we had an alloted portion of our tax return (may Obama live forever) for home purchases, and I found a deep freezer for $60 on Craigslist and I bought it. Then we drove to the end of the world and picked it up, with the MOG muttering under his breath and arguing with the GPS the whole way.

It looks great, I'm stoked. I signed up for e-mealz.com and I'm about to get super organized up in here and start meal planning and cooking some good stuff. And freezing stuff! Then you can come to my house and eat at the table with a plate. Or, if I've regressed, you can eat some stew on the futon. Well, in a bowl on the futon, it's not that bad.

He could be on the phone for an hour. When I ask him who it was, what it was about, he freezes up. I get one word answers. Meanwhile, halfway into my description of the cashier's hair, he glazes over and doesn't hear anything. 

He, at one time, bought a huge variety of solid gray t-shirts. I feel terribly, terribly confined when my clothes are too matchy. 

During a "fight", I will think of all the issues that this issue brings up, and try to resolve them, while we're at it. He is confused, because as far as he knew, we were fighting about him throwing away the mail. 

We did premarital counseling for a young couple last fall. I think one of our most useful pieces of advice we gave them went something like this. "At some point, you will have conflict. It is important to remember that the reason your spouse is totally illogical and/or nuts is because you married the opposite gender." Call it stereotyping, but we are different. 

Today I told Toby and Brynn to draw a picture of a "fun day." Here are the results. 

Toby: "This is me, on a slide."

Brynn: "I'm on a swing! And this is colorful!"

My friend: I'm watching your journey to bring home the baby that you love, and reliving my own journey, some. You're gonna make it.

---

They want to know
And you want them to understand
But they can’t, not really
And you find yourself, time and time again
In the center, explaining while they cry


And you’re mad
Because it didn’t have to be this way
And it’s worth it, every minute
But it didn’t HAVE to be this way


Your heart, your eyes, your arms ache
He is rich, and alive, and so much more
And you want them to understand
But they can’t, not really
They stand on the outside, pity and admiration and fear


And you’re lonely, I know
I wish I could help
But I’m here too


I want to say
That hope doesn’t die
And love makes it worth it
And you will live through this, and grow
That every crisis will make you love him more
That there will be easy days, full of laughter
And that I understand, even if I can’t think of anything to say

Life is all about learning. This week, I learned that family vacations are not restful. "let's take the kids!" I pleaded. "They LOVE the beach!" The MOG reluctantly agreed, and the children for whom we have prayed tantrumed and peed their way across Galveston Island.

I can still get fairly idealistic, even after almost 12 years of parenting. I'm so in love with my kids that sometimes I forget they are capable of great chaos and malfeasance. (that is a gorgeous word) 

I had a mental picture of all of us parked on the shore, soaking up a few rays with a book while the children played happily in the sand. That didn't happen. It was cold and wet and windy, and everybody was a little grumpy. After a while we did settle into a groove and had some excitement buying a seashell. I had to work hard to talk a 3 littles out of a shark magnet that read "Bite Me". 



Yesterday morning I woke up idealistic again. "I'll make a big breakfast!" thought I. And I did, eventually. By the time it was ready, little people were strewn across the furniture, crying for God to take them now, and I was plugged into my Mellow Mix on the ol iPod, after crying twice. TWICE. I don't usually cry twice in a YEAR. 

Breakfast was delicious, ultimately. I think the kids had fun, and they'll have good memories of their very last beach vacation. I kid. We'll take them again, someday. Maybe when THEY have kids. 

Where am I? I am with the MOG at the beach, attempting our first family vacation as a party of 6. We haven't actually hit the beach yet, and it's a cool, cloudy day, so I'm not sure we'll do anything beachy once we get there. I did buy a little play tent at Ikea and am intrigued by the idea of sitting inside the tent with Tristan, looking at the beach. Don't know if that will work out.

Currently little people are bingeing on PBS cartoons and we're getting stuff ready for 11:00 checkout. And by "getting stuff ready" I mean I am typing a blog and the MOG is composing songs in the shower.

And now: Tristan!

Dear Texans and foreigners lucky enough to live in Texas: don't be wusses, it's not befitting of the great nation of Texas. Get in your truck and drive to Magnolia tomorrow, it's not that far, and sing along with the new album while we're recording it. It's gonna be awesome! See you there, and don't mess with Texas.

I hate making plans. It takes so much brain power and micro-analyzing, and then you have this ^%$ plan you're stuck with, and you have to do it, and it will bug you when you're supposed to be sleeping. I prefer to live life on the fly, and not know what I'm eating for lunch until I'm halfway through making it. When people ask me those what-will-you-be-doing-in-5-years questions, it gives me hives. Heck if I know! ANYTHING could happen in 5 years. I could be living in a moon colony, raising robot bears. 5 years. Sheesh.

Every now and then, though, living spontaneously bites me in the butt. Like when I come to Texas and I have a limited amount of days to see people and eat Texas food (note to self: need crawdad). The MOG comes here to work, with ministry most nights and days full of song and sermon writing and rehearsals and setup and spiritual trances, whatever, so I'm on my own with my sidekicks to plan most of my days. This time I've tried really hard, even typing in all my tacos appointments in my calendar on my phone. It's just weird, though. You people live like this? Always knowing you have somewhere to be? Clocks and alarms and forward thinking? and waiting? Where's that calamine lotion?

Still, though the I protesteth, I made the plans. If you were wanting to buy us Mexican food and have not given a shout-out, shout out, yo. There's always second breakfast.

After a very tense weekend of R2 pointing angrily at a photo of himself on a trampoline, the school bus came back. He knows we're going to Texas, to his Bedste's house, where the trampoline is. What he doesn't get is why aren't we going, right now, immediately. So I was happy to send him to a day of school prior to the trip, just to distract him.

The remainder of the children and I took the minivan to the carwash, in our semi-annual cleansing of the vehicle prior to the 12-hour devastation of driving to Texas. It's kind of like washing your hands directly before mud wrestling. After eyeing our carpet, which is mostly Cracker Jacks, the guy told us it would be over an hour to get it clean. I signed things and considered hanging out in the lobby with the 3 little ones, snacking on Skittles and catching up on my People's Court. That lasted 90 seconds. We decided to hit the road and walk the miles and miles to McDonald's. (it is probably less than a mile, but I don't go outdoors)

Spirits were high as we headed down the sidewalk. It is gorgeous gorgeous today. It took a while. We had to stop and pick a flower, and look at the sewer manhole thingy, and discuss the sewer, and talk about water treatment plants. The Western Sizzlin sign has fallen over, and there was a LOT of talk about that. "It might FALL on us!" they squealed, standing as close to the Caution tape as possible. Brynn wanted to walk alone, then she wanted to ride on top of the stroller, then she fell over a couple of times and had an emotional breakdown.

By the time we reached the crosswalk, I was pushing the stroller, carrying Brynn and threatening Toby with things like, "If you get hit by a car, I will KILL you." (that statement is for humor purposes only) I actually had very mild Woodlands-mommy threats like, "let's be careful and wait for our turn, precious." (that statement is understated)

Finally we reached the promised land, where we feasted on a smoothie and waited it out. All too soon, it was time to walk back. The walk back was much quicker, although we had to stop to discuss railroads, and then we almost lost it all when a small dog walked by.

My van looks awesome. I expect the MOG to ban all eating and drinking until 15 minutes into the trip when he realizes the only time they are quiet is when they are chewing.