My Cinderella

She wore a black, one-shoulder formal with silver sequins and bugle beads at the waist and on the back. Her hair was slicked into a side pony tail and her make-up was flawless. On her wrist was a corsage of white orchids and on her feet were silver sequined.....Chuck Taylor high tops.

Yep, that's my princess, off to the junior prom in all her glory. I'm not exactly raising an Audrey Hepburn here, no matter how hard I try. She is determined to be her own self.

I can't say I'm not pleased. After all, being born with no left brain cells (see previous post) made me a bit unique in my own family unit. When I started having children, I knew that I did not want cookie cutter kids and since I am definitely NOT a soccer mom, what else would they be but their own little individual selves. So, instead of mom, dad, 2.3 kids and a dog, we've had:

Mom, Dad, 3 kids (all girls), a Yorkie named Killer, a Rottweiler named Clio Aimee Elmira, various cats (all called Cat), a hamster named Bob, a bird named Igor, fish, hermit crabs, snails, turtles and worms. We are now down to a lab-bulldog mix named Max, a cat my husband affectionately calls Crack, and the last remaining daughter at home. Cinderella of the Chuck Taylors. 

Does God just shake his head at my antics the way I do at my children? Does he grin in secret pride at my small social rebellions? I'm pretty sure he's okay with my uniqueness since he created me that way.

Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born I set you apart 
                                                                                                            - Jeremiah 1:5 (NIV)

I'm glad my children are comfortable enough in their own skin to be themselves, for they know they were made in the image of their Creator. Unique, individual, incomparable. Chuck Taylors and all.

Countdowns

Spring Break has ended. The official countdown has begun. There are thirty-five days until the end of the 2012-2013 school year. It's almost as if the stress levels are visible, like some insiduous heat wave, rising up through the hallways, choking out our sanity until just the smallest word or gesture causes us to snap and then chaos can rule. For the final month of school, it seems as if everyone walks on eggshells, praying that we make it without a major disaster sending us into a tailspin.

Our lives seem to be ruled by countdowns. Five days until the weekend, twenty-three days left until payday, 117 days until the new school year (118 until my birthday), 226 days until my twenty-fifth anniversary, 229 days until the fifthieth anniversary of Doctor Who (that's important, too) and 262 days until Christmas. Some of these countdowns are exciting; birthdays, anniversaries, etc., and some are stressful. For example, there are 2 days until my next IEP meeting and I'm starting to feel the pressure.

I did not used to be this way. I am naturally a right-brained individual. Creative, emotional, impulsive, illogical (some would say). Very visually oriented. Don't try to tell me how to do something, give me the instruction book. Draw me a map. Don't read to me or lecture me, give me the book. It drove my analytical family up the wall. I was the "scatter-brain." It was not until I was in college that I figured out why I was so different from everyone else. I had never heard of the whole right-brain, left-brain concept and when I took the assessment, I had only one question for my professor. "What does it mean when my score is higher than the ones on your chart?" She was not quite sure what to do. She had never had that happen before. I was so totally right-brained that my left-brained scores barely made a blip on the radar (I think I had maybe a two). I said, "Well, that explains a lot." It meant that I was not really a scatter-brain. I was not secretly adopted. I was not a changling or a royal princess in hiding (darn). What it did mean was there was a lot of work ahead of me. I had to learn how to be left brained.

I did. It took a long time. I went over the top and became a bit OCD because of it. The right brain stuff is still there, it's just augmented by the left brain now. The downside is, I tend to stress over countdowns and schedules. I became a bit of a control freak. Not of everyone else, I'm not a stalker or anything like that. I just need to feel in absolute control of me and my life and my surroundings.

Which is in direct contrast to a relationship with God. I can't say that I am his disciple and insist on control of my own circumstances. (It would be nice to be able to see his calendar for my life, just to get an idea of where we are going.) But, it doesn't work that way. I've got to get off the throne and give it back to him. Every day. Sometimes numerous times a day. Sometimes numerous times an hour. Which (being transparent here) is the hardest thing in the world for me to do in this whole relationship thing. I spent so much time building up the ability to stay in control that giving it up is anathama to me on the deepest levels. It literally tears me apart each and every time. But, to quote a recent sermon topic (springroad.org) the Kingdom of God was made for and of the broken. So, it's worth it. No matter how many times a day or an hour or even a minute, it's worth it.

You Learn Something New Every Day

I almost burned my house down yesterday. At least, that is what everyone in my neighborhood was thinking when the alarm system started going off, and the fire department showed up at my front door. Yes, the Edmondson clan does provide local entertainment for free! Stop on by! Then my sarcastic Facebook post upset my mother (understandably) because she read it before I could post a clarification. It also ticked off "The Joneses" because it apparently started a rumor (Heaven forbid) so I am, once again, in trouble with everyone around me.

Let's begin at the beginning. A good place, as always.

It was a Tuesday. Not a Monday, as one would think. According to Murphy's Law, if stuff is going to happen, Mondays are the most probable day. Nope, leave it to me. It was a Tuesday. It was my turn to provide dessert to my weekly small group Bible study and I was feeling guilty. I had copped out and purchased a cheesecake instead of creating a wonderful homemade confectionery delight. For pity's sake, it's Spring Break. I had time to make something. I'm a pretty good cook. Desserts are my specialty. I was just being lazy so I bought the cheesecake and some strawberries. Then the guilt kicked in and I got a fabulous idea! I would make chocolate sauce! Simple, quick and delicious!

(Rabbit Trail: If you've never had this, Google "chocolate gravy" recipes, pour over hot, buttered biscuits, and it's instant heaven on a plate, people, trust me!)

Unfortunately, in my endeavor to impress my friends with my culinary skills, I ignored the most basic cooking rule: Do Not Try To Multi Task in the Kitchen! Chocolate sauce will boil over very, very quickly. It did and the kitchen filled with smoke. Now, this is not the first time this has ever happened to me. Stuff boils over on the stove with amazing regularity in my house. It is, however, the first time our alarm system has ever registered it.

Please understand. We have lived in this house for six years. The house itself is almost thirty years old and the alarm system is probably close to the same age. When we moved in, we never changed the system over to our name. We had no idea it even worked. There is no company name on the number pad, we had no way to get in touch with any one, no idea how to turn it off, no idea of where the smoke detector was even located (the laundry room).  My husband crawled into the attic yanking wires out of speakers, trying to get the thing to shut up. Our realtor called us because the alarm company called her. (She was still listed as the contact person for emergencies.) The police came. The fire department came. Our dog is going crazy. The cat is trying to sneak into the house because we have all the doors open. I'm laughing like a loon, freaking out  not because I've caused chaos in the neighborhood, but because now we're late for Bible study.

This is my life. I volunteer to do some task for God, fully intending to give it my all. Then I get lazy and start procrastinating. (Rabbit Trail: There is a reason Sloth is one of the Seven Deadlies.  http://springroad.org/#/sermons-studies ) When the deadline approaches, I panic, try to fill in with something else and ultimately make a mess of it, causing chaos in the process. Unfortunately, the end results are never quite so amusing or so simple to clean up as chocolate sauce on the stove. I'm just thankful that He continues to love me and forgive me. Most of the time, a lot faster than my neighbors.