tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1098959174818662922024-03-14T00:37:34.333-04:00the dayof small thingsHeatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06013698463536484071noreply@blogger.comBlogger119125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-109895917481866292.post-33771333281007602982012-08-10T23:26:00.000-04:002012-08-10T23:26:17.738-04:00newness.I started a new blog. I'm still figuring it out. But here it is: <a href="http://thiseason.blogspot.com/">http://thiseason.blogspot.com/</a> I hope you like it. :) K bye!Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06013698463536484071noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-109895917481866292.post-91002652883977049572012-07-12T22:43:00.000-04:002012-07-12T22:52:56.961-04:00how gratefulGod, this discontentment has got to go.<br />
<br />
It is debilitating and defeating.<br />
<br />
God placed the sun, moon, and stars in the sky to light the earth - so
intentionally, so purposefully. Why don't I pay closer attention to the
blessings He places in my life - so intentionally, so purposefully - to
light my way and point me to Him?<br />
<br />
How bright red the strawberries were as Katie dipped them in dark chocolate.<br />
<br />
How the little neighbor girls looked at me, smiling, with their frizzy
black hair piled identically on top of their heads; how the best way to
get them to giggle was to dance with them in the yellow square of grass
between apartment buildings.<br />
<br />
How every night I go to sleep I pull over me the green and yellow
flowers crocheted together by my grandmother's hands, which are now
still.<br />
<br />
How cool the evening air was beneath the glowing orange sunset, and how
smoothly Nat King Cole flowed out my open car windows like oil being
painted on canvas.<br />
<br />
How much my mother loves me and gives me the strength to be an independent, confident, Godly woman.<br />
<br />
How Mondays are Sabbath to me now; how rest honors God. <br />
<br />
How it smells to open the office door every morning - like coffee, carpet, and warm paper.<br />
<br />
How running made me realize that endurance means pushing past
the point of wanting to give up; how saying that out loud came on
the same day I asked God whether He wanted me to give up.<br />
<br />
How good it feels to close my eyes.<br />
<div style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; text-align: center;">
<i>"It starts to unfold, light in the dark, a door opening up, how all
these years it's been utterly pointless to try to wrench out the spikes
of discontent. Because that habit of discontentment can only be driven
out by hammering in one iron sharper. The sleek pin of gratitude." - Ann
Voskamp</i></div>Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06013698463536484071noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-109895917481866292.post-12935570728065835252012-06-05T22:06:00.000-04:002012-06-05T22:06:36.913-04:00Award-Winning Day of WeirdomToday was weird. I felt listless. I don't usually feel listless; I usually feel like I've eaten lots of lollipops. Today I felt like I'd just had dental work done.<br />
<br />
Somehow things aligned so that only 3 of us were in the office for hours. It was like the day after a tornado when I was a kid, when everyone in the neighborhood came out into the street and looked up at the sky in the eerie silence wondering if that had just happened.<br />
<br />
Then we discovered we'd been hoodwinked. Through some sleuthing we found out the person who called in last week claiming to be Person A & was stranded in City B & needed C amount of money turned out to be, in fact, not Person A at all. Hoodwinked! I first started suspecting when I talked to Person A at church on Sunday about whether everything had worked out and she looked at me like I was a crazy person trying to steal her child. Woops? We're still working on getting to the bottom of it. But if you've ever been hoodwinked, you know it is a very surreal experience.<br />
<br />
Then some very large man in foreboding sunglasses like a hit-man came in and told us he's starting a Pentecostal church and asked if he could hold services in our sanctuary. He was fishy because he said he was from Louisville, but he pronounced it "Louie-ville," and who from Louisville does that? Also, when we told him it wasn't possible to hold services in our sanctuary, he sat in his SUV in the parking lot for a long time and just stared at the church.<br />
<br />
Weirded out.<br />
<br />
The bug lady came in to spray for bugs and told me she always feels peaceful walking into our church. I wanted to tell her it's because something weird is happening today, and there's probably an episode of <i>The Twilight Zone</i> about this where everyone's hands turn to jelly or something. But I just smiled instead. Which is probably what the jelly-handed lady in <i>The Twilight Zone</i> would've done, too, right when the "doo doo doo doo" music started playing.<br />
<br />
Attack of the jelly hands. Episode 1.Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06013698463536484071noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-109895917481866292.post-35959749874704009612012-05-20T18:23:00.000-04:002012-05-20T18:23:00.723-04:001 Timothy 6:6<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<br />
"It's not what isn't, it's what you wish was that makes unhappiness." - Janis Joplin</blockquote>
<br />
Do you ever wonder what your life would look like as a story in a book? This quote made me wonder if, were I to read my own story in a novel, I would think, "Wow, I wish I was her. She has so much. She seems so cool. Her life is great. She has great teeth."<br />
<br />
Do we take inventory enough of what we have? I don't think I live very consciously. It's pretty easy just to live life. Like how when you use a certain shampoo long enough eventually you stop smelling it in your own hair. And sometimes I get scared that something in my life is going to change and, even if it's a good change, I'll have missed something this stage of life had to offer me. My friend Abe Parker sings, "The grass is greener on the other side of the wall only because you didn't water your lawn at all."<br />
<br />
I don't want to wish any part of my life away because I'm looking at something I don't have and wanting it.<br />
<br />
And I like this song:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/zR2LG1V0m6M?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<br />Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06013698463536484071noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-109895917481866292.post-87100631699616345022012-04-30T19:27:00.000-04:002012-04-30T19:27:04.037-04:00Dear anonymous gift-giver (or givers),<br />
<br />
I don't know who you are, but I know you read this blog. (At least, I think you do.)<br />
<br />
I am at an absolute loss for words.<br />
<br />
Your gift has come at a time when I have never needed God's grace and the love of friends more in my life.<br />
<br />
So I am so, so deeply grateful...and just stunned. You have blessed me more than you even know.<br />
<br />
Thank you. Thank you, thank you, from the bottom of my mushy little heart. (Because that's the best way to describe it right now: Mush.)<br />
<br />
Whoever you are, thank you. And I promise this gift will take me someplace I've always dreamed, just like you specified.Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06013698463536484071noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-109895917481866292.post-89985107238524296382012-03-18T18:12:00.003-04:002012-03-18T18:20:06.384-04:00Adventurers Are WeMy friend Lauren and I are adventurers. For example, she wants to be a professional mermaid. And I parked a really big truck perfectly on my first try. See? Adventurers are we.<br />
<br />
This summer, we're keeping track of all the awesome things we do as adventurers. (I say "this summer," as though it isn't still spring. It sure doesn't feel like spring, as "bed time" now means lying on top of my covers and listening to raccoons dig through the dumpster out my open window.)<br />
<br />
Fun Things We Do, #1: Riding the Legacy Trail.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-s1XQqsTfWBE/T2ZYLL41TLI/AAAAAAAAAkI/oAsyTjt9yjc/s1600/lauren.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="391" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-s1XQqsTfWBE/T2ZYLL41TLI/AAAAAAAAAkI/oAsyTjt9yjc/s400/lauren.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
The whole trail is something like 10 miles one way, but we only rode half of it - which is still 10 miles there and back. We felt pretty good until we were done and sitting in the truck on our way back, and then we were pretty sleepy. BUT NOT TOO SLEEPY TO DRIVE! Because we are responsible with big trucks that aren't ours. (Did I mention how well I parked it, on my first try?)<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GSP0AeocHK4/T2ZTbnQ6ssI/AAAAAAAAAj4/HabDxmwHfVk/s1600/bikes.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GSP0AeocHK4/T2ZTbnQ6ssI/AAAAAAAAAj4/HabDxmwHfVk/s400/bikes.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
If you're a Lexontonian, I highly recommend the Legacy Trail. I'm already planning when we can go again. Look how happy my Schwinn is in that picture up there. He had a hard time stopping to pose for a picture, he was so street-greedy. Gimmee, gimmee, gimmee, he said. In so many words.<br />
<br />
Fun Things We Do, #2: Ultimate Frisbee.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-W4z6gC7PcXk/T2ZTlQmAatI/AAAAAAAAAkA/oWhEpf2LjHw/s1600/frisbee.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-W4z6gC7PcXk/T2ZTlQmAatI/AAAAAAAAAkA/oWhEpf2LjHw/s400/frisbee.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
We take fun very seriously. <br />
<br />
And I love Ultimate Frisbee. It fills me with joy and delight and pleasure and other generally positive feelings. There is something deeply fulfilling about leaping into the air and snatching a flying disk out of the sky which otherwise would have sailed away on the currents of oblivion (or at least would've just fallen down on the grass). Today was Sunday #1 of many Sundays to come playing Ultimate Frisbee in Vineyard's front yard. Hopefully by the end of the summer we all won't be as winded as we were today. Happy first day of non-stop running and jumping and sweating profusely. (HOW DOES THAT NOT SOUND LIKE THE BEST ACTIVITY EVER!)<br />
<br />
Jesus said, "Where 8 or more are gathered with a Frisbee, there I am in the midst of them." Roughly paraphrased.<br />
<br />
I'm glad I have Lauren to go on adventures with me. Stay tuned for more adventures from we adventurers. :)Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06013698463536484071noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-109895917481866292.post-23420190461278302642012-03-14T19:32:00.003-04:002012-03-14T20:05:05.290-04:00the way to my heartI know. I've already posted about daffodils once. But then I drove past some mini daffodils...and I love mini daffodils. So I have to post about them again.<br />
<br />
When I was in high school, my friend <a href="http://martindell.wordpress.com/" target="_blank">Sarah</a> had a pot of mini daffodils delivered to me in my algebra II class. It was probably the most delightful and unexpected surprise I'd ever received. <br />
<br />
So I had to pull over and take a picture of some mini daffodils.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lBU0ou19wA0/T2EVeTzv-mI/AAAAAAAAAjo/3jQduiASHUE/s1600/theminis.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lBU0ou19wA0/T2EVeTzv-mI/AAAAAAAAAjo/3jQduiASHUE/s400/theminis.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The minis.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>But then I realized that we're past the "Oh look! Daffodils are blooming!" stage of spring, and now they're everywhere, and if I pulled over to take a picture every time I passed pretty daffodils, I would be in a constant state of hazard lights. <br />
<br />
While riding by bike the other day (side note: He's so happy to see the sky and feel the air on his cylindrical metal frame), I passed several yards with an abundance of daffodils. Forests of them. Gobs. Heaps. Piles! Of little yellow faces nodding in the breeze. And I thought, "If a few of them were missing, no one would ever notice." If I came out at night, no one would catch me. I'd done it before. Successfully, I might add.<br />
<br />
And then if I had them in my possession, smiling at me like sunlight in my vase, I wouldn't feel the need to take so many pictures of them.<br />
<br />
"We have those flowers in our yard," my boss told me this morning. (I, of course, interpreted "those flowers" to mean daffodils.) I told him about my plan to steal some from one of the neighborhoods near me, at night, wearing a ski mask and rolling around on the ground like stealthy criminals do (hopefully remembering to have removed the scissors from my pocket prior to said stealthy rolling). He told me I could pick theirs.<br />
<br />
Come on. Of course I could never do that. I can't steal warmth from people I never want to feel the cold.<br />
<br />
He said they had all-yellow ones, and, his favorite, white and yellow ones. I asked if he'd ever seen the orange ones, because they look angry. Every time I pass a cluster of them I feel like they're yelling at me. "My favorite," I said, "are the ones that are all frilly. They look like bunches of lace."<br />
<br />
This afternoon my boss walked in with scissors in one hand and a clump of frilly yellow daffodils in the other. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-it66IayGDJ0/T2EVhBgPjTI/AAAAAAAAAjw/FU63Z0QQIHk/s1600/thefrillies.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-it66IayGDJ0/T2EVhBgPjTI/AAAAAAAAAjw/FU63Z0QQIHk/s400/thefrillies.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The frillies.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>It was like my heart turned to liquid joy and ran through my veins and oozed out my pores with sparks of delight. (It's not as messy as it sounds.)<br />
<br />
I think it's that they make me feel so loved, and that's a pretty priceless gift.<br />
<br />
They're sitting on my desk in a water pitcher, smelling sweetly of earthy syrup and making me feel like life is simple and good. Crazy how a flower can make me so happy. But these do, and have, and will continue to, forever, and ever, amen.<br />
<br />
I just love daffodils, and the people who surprise me with them. :)Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06013698463536484071noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-109895917481866292.post-19775302467362269862012-02-29T08:24:00.000-05:002012-02-29T08:24:35.839-05:00the sun can come back another dayI woke up to a thunderstorm at 4am this morning, and I wasn't even angry.<br />
<br />
I was terrified for a moment; my window was open and it was probably the loudest clap of thunder I've ever heard, so I immediately sprang out of bed and shut the window, because of course that will help keep tornadoes out.<br />
<br />
It made me think of being a kid in the summertime. My brothers and I played all over the earth, and most of that earth ended up under my toenails. I remember drawing dirt pictures on the bathtub floor with my toe and watching the water wash them away. And Mom wondered why our water bills were so high. Artistic expression takes time, Mom.<br />
<br />
From my front porch, you could look out over the river and see the storm clouds coming. (This makes me sound very Native American living in a tipi - but that's how I tended to live my childhood. Me hungry. Peanut butter sandwich, yes?) And my brother and I would race to see who could take the fastest shower, 1.) because everything is a competition when you're a kid, and 2.) because both of us were sweaty but neither of us wanted to get struck by lightening while in the shower. So it was more of a race against death, I guess. We always won.<br />
<br />
That's one reason I don't mind thunderstorms, even when they wake me up at 4am: Because they make me think of playing Monopoly by candle-light when the power went out, and sitting on the porch watching pinkish spindly fingers in the sky. I can smell damp pavement and honeysuckle and remember the way the river turned brown in heavy rains. (Less-romantic fact: Usually it was green. Our part of the river was called the Little Muskingum, which is Native American for "muddy waters." Pretty, huh.)<br />
<br />
I also don't mind thunderstorms waking me up at 4am because they make me think of this verse in Job 37: "God’s voice thunders in marvelous ways; he does great things beyond our understanding." Lying in bed early in the morning and being reminded of that is one of the most peaceful and comforting ways to wake up.<br />
<br />
Happy first official thunder storm of spring. :)Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06013698463536484071noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-109895917481866292.post-10192417097503062972012-02-26T08:40:00.001-05:002012-02-26T08:41:28.195-05:00springWe all know how much I love winter. Remember <a href="http://leavingmynets.blogspot.com/2011/02/operation-fly-north.html" target="_blank">this</a> post? It talks about winter. And how much I love it. <br />
<br />
It hasn't really been winter all winter here in Kentucky. That, to me, is a waste of winter. <br />
<br />
I left my apartment under a slight flurry yesterday morning, but on my walk I passed these little guys:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-V9-Zee9-nQY/T0o0DaNwDCI/AAAAAAAAAjY/hhQmdsPgFLw/s1600/401461_2744326413695_602002138_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-V9-Zee9-nQY/T0o0DaNwDCI/AAAAAAAAAjY/hhQmdsPgFLw/s400/401461_2744326413695_602002138_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
I can't resist them.<br />
<br />
I love winter, but if it's not going to be winter, I'm ready for summer. I haven't seen my freckles in months (if not YEARS), my <a href="http://leavingmynets.blogspot.com/2011/05/bicycle-built-for-one.html" target="_blank">bike</a> has been whining about inactivity (and I'm tired of the whimpering), and the apartment complex I'm moving into in April has two pools. Holla.<br />
<br />
Bringst es auf.Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06013698463536484071noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-109895917481866292.post-72627235836145503672012-02-14T22:27:00.000-05:002012-02-14T22:27:35.661-05:00happy Valentine's DayMy Valentine's Day was filled with:<br />
<br />
1.) (a.) long conversations about sushi (b.) and plans for sushi outings<br />
2.) a treasure hunt ending in malt, mint, & white chocolate<br />
3.) Sunday afternoon plans, when it's only Tuesday<br />
4.) a small group that puts the "small" in small group, but makes me look forward to Tuesday nights in a very <u>big</u> way<br />
<br />
I may not have a "significant other," but I have a few people in my life who are pretty significant, and I love them deeply and am deeply grateful for their love. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-StIALJ24eGY/TzsfC_Op0vI/AAAAAAAAAi4/f2_RatPRsKI/s1600/brownies.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-StIALJ24eGY/TzsfC_Op0vI/AAAAAAAAAi4/f2_RatPRsKI/s400/brownies.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">raspberry espresso brownies - adapted from <a href="http://www.afarmgirlsdabbles.com/2012/01/20/fudgy-brownie-hearts-with-fresh-raspberry-buttercream/" target="_blank">here</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>Happy Valentine's Day. :)Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06013698463536484071noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-109895917481866292.post-82131814492415211712012-02-09T22:17:00.001-05:002012-02-09T22:23:33.307-05:00blame it on the buttercreamEverything was against me.<br />
<br />
I didn't have any granulated sugar. (WHAT.)<br />
<br />
Then I realized I forgot the bourbon at work. (I bet you don't hear a sentence like that every day.)<br />
<br />
Then I was about to run out of gas, so I had to stop at Shell and I didn't even have any Kroger plus points on my card. (My life is terrible.)<br />
<br />
Then I realized the recipe for the caramel frosting <a href="http://allisoneats.com/2011/01/27/chocolate-bourbon-cupcakes/" target="_blank">here</a> needed 4 hours to 1 day to cool, and it was already 7:30 and that is just INSANE. So I had to find another recipe from another <a href="http://gimmesomeoven.com/vanilla-almond-cupcakes-with-salted-caramel-buttercream/" target="_blank">trusted source</a>.<br />
<br />
Then I burned my caramel and my smoke alarm went off and I gasped through the choking smog to open my windows, turn on my ceiling fans, and disconnect my deafening alarm. (What did we learn here? When the instructions say, "Keep a close eye on the caramel," they are not just being silly.)<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-z-9QH1mvxmM/TzR6kSHXkkI/AAAAAAAAAig/e8KF5_wfFhI/s1600/caramel.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-z-9QH1mvxmM/TzR6kSHXkkI/AAAAAAAAAig/e8KF5_wfFhI/s400/caramel.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Caramel: First batch, pre-"drowning in the swirling river of fog"</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
Then my feet got cold because it's 30 degrees outside and cold air sinks and my feet are the bottomest part of my body. Therefore: Toes turn to toe-sicles. <br />
<br />
Then I realized that over the noise of my heater groaning because of the sudden rush of cold air and the fan on my oven that does nothing but blow hot air in my face, I couldn't hear "LOST," and now I think I've missed something important. Is Ben still the bad guy? I can't keep track.<br />
<br />
Then, when frosting the cupcakes, I realized I wasn't going to have enough frosting for all 24 of them. (What did we learn here? When the recipe says, "Make a double batch of icing, because you won't have enough otherwise," they are not just being funny.) But I managed.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-IpXhi6r9H2w/TzSED_ukWLI/AAAAAAAAAio/aILIAN_I65A/s1600/cupcake.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-IpXhi6r9H2w/TzSED_ukWLI/AAAAAAAAAio/aILIAN_I65A/s400/cupcake.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">They're not this yellow in real life.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Then I started blogging and got tired and now I don't feel like cleaning up.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wVIVmrmkQ9w/TzSHQnLMSyI/AAAAAAAAAiw/nZMTW2H-ZvY/s1600/death.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wVIVmrmkQ9w/TzSHQnLMSyI/AAAAAAAAAiw/nZMTW2H-ZvY/s400/death.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Scary, dark waters of burnt caramel. Who knows what's down there. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>All in all: Chocolate bourbon cupcakes with caramel buttercream frosting = SUCCESS. Seriously so.Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06013698463536484071noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-109895917481866292.post-41806775421201575262012-02-09T14:58:00.001-05:002012-02-09T14:59:04.496-05:00based on a true storyFriday, while working some of the often-times mundane tasks of behind-the-scenes church, I suddenly, as though struck with a peppermint wand by the Peppermint Fairy floating with wings of red and white stripes, wanted a peppermint milkshake. It was as strong as the feeling of wanting to live, wanting to breathe, wanting to love someone other than yourself.<br />
<br />
So I did the logical thing. I called Chick-fil-A, Baskin Robbins, and Steak & Shake, but all of them replied with, "Peppermint is only during the holidays."<br />
<br />
What an awful thing to say. Why would this be? Why would you put such limitations on flavor? Would anybody ever say, "I'm sorry, you can only breathe in April"? "We apologize, but you can only only love before the sun sets"? <br />
<br />
And I knew that grocery stores hardly ever sold peppermint. At least, Wal-Mart never did. At least, the Wal-Mart in Wisconsin never did. Only Piggly Wiggly, which Wisconsites call so caressingly, "The Pig."<br />
<br />
So I swallowed my Pigless, peppermintless, Kentucky fate and shed a tear, which, unbeknownst to me, the Peppermint Fairy caught in her magical bottle, to do magical things with that I knew not of.<br />
<br />
Saturday I went to Kroger, settling like we so often do for the things in life that don't quite measure up to what will make us truly happy. Maybe some Breyer's mint chocolate chip will give me peace of appetite, I thought. And I walked up and down the glass doors of ice cream and wondered which brand of mint was worth it, when suddenly I gasped. Literally gasped. And every part of me froze and melted at the same time.<br />
<br />
She'd done it. The Peppermint Fairy had done it, I just knew it. She took my tear in her magic bottle and made it pink and made it fluffy, with specks and chips of candy cane. It was peppermint ice cream, and it was there for the taking by those who knew that Christmas wasn't the only one who loved it.<br />
<br />
I love it, too.<br />
<br />
3-bowls worth.<br />
<br />
Thanks, Peppermint Fairy.Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06013698463536484071noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-109895917481866292.post-38476728562647664192012-01-24T18:46:00.000-05:002012-01-24T18:46:15.930-05:00the messageI needed to hear this, so I thought you might, too.<br />
<br />
Read it slowly.<br />
<br />
Marinate in it.<br />
<br />
Each line, line by line. <br />
<br />
This is what He's saying to <i>you</i>.<br />
<br />
But now, God's message,<br />
<br />
the God who made you in the first place,<br />
<br />
the One who got you started:<br />
<br />
Don't be afraid, I've redeemed you.<br />
<br />
I've called your name.<br />
<br />
You're mine.<br />
<br />
When you're in over your head, I'll be there with you.<br />
<br />
When you're in rough waters, you will not go down.<br />
<br />
When you're between a rock and a hard place, it won't be a dead end--<br />
<br />
Because I am God,<br />
<br />
your personal God,<br />
<br />
the Holy One of Israel,<br />
<br />
your Savior.<br />
<br />
I paid a huge price for you.<i> </i><br />
<br />
That's how much you mean to me<i>. </i><br />
<br />
That's how much I love you.<br />
<br />
I'd sell off the whole world to get you back,<br />
<br />
trade the creation just for you.<br />
<br />
So don't be afraid: I'm with you.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">(Isaiah 43:1-5)</span>Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06013698463536484071noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-109895917481866292.post-20177662191004503352012-01-16T17:33:00.002-05:002012-01-16T17:40:19.908-05:00I want to see mountains again, GandalfAfter much deliberation, I have decided not to go to Denmark.<br />
<br />
You have no idea how painful it is for me to type this.<br />
<br />
You see, a couple of friends of mine are going to Denmark at the end of January. Saturday night, they invited me to go with them.<br />
<br />
Did you know that a round-trip flight to Denmark only costs $750?<br />
<br />
There's a big part of me that says, "Screw responsibility & practicality." If Gandalf were here, he would look at me beneath his bushy eyebrows and spit amongst his beard, "Fly, you fools!" It's not even a debate: You are tired, and weary, and you've been staring at pictures of mountains for the past week because you desperately want to have an adventure that does not include figuring out new ways to rearrange your closet and finding a hat you forgot you had.<br />
<br />
Then the other part of me says, "You have rent to pay, and you need things like food and gas, and if you take a vacation now, you won't be able to take another vacation for 10 months."<br />
<br />
That's the part of me that's kind of winning out a little bit. Today I even tried to console myself by saying to myself, "Heather, if you don't go to Denmark, you can buy something special for yourself. Like those cutting boards at Macy's that you like so much."<br />
<br />
Yeah, that'll be cool. I won't go to Denmark, and instead I'll buy some cutting boards. Great suggestion, self. Then whenever I start to feel restless, I'll just take out my cutting boards and...cut some broccoli. Won't that feel better?<br />
<br />
Someday I'll go somewhere out of the country.<br />
<br />
Someday.Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06013698463536484071noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-109895917481866292.post-66825137745887708872012-01-10T22:01:00.001-05:002012-01-10T22:08:18.881-05:00my father's daughterMy dad made me take sips of his coffee while I was growing up, even though I hated it, because he didn't want to be the only person in the family who drank coffee. Now I love it and he doesn't have to drink alone. I think that was the start of his training me to be like him.<br />
<br />
He also taught me to play the guitar.<br />
Me: "Dad, I don't always understand what you're trying to tell me."<br />
Dad: "I said augmented, not diminished, stupid."<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
Any form of ridiculousness I have comes from him.<br />
Mom: "Are the neighbors who took you in when you were locked out, are their names Peggy and Phil?"<br />
Me, remembering being locked out and walking to the neighbor's in my socks: "Yes."<br />
Mom: "They seem nice."<br />
Me, remembering introducing myself and asking them to use their phone and phonebook in my socks: "They are."<br />
Dad: "They have nice grass."<br />
<br />
That's not to say we don't have our differences. <br />
<br />
For example, he's not always as affectionate as I am.<br />
My thought processes: "Dad, please adjust your comfort level so that I can be as close to you as I possibly can because in my mind I am still small enough to fit in your recliner with you and I want to always be really really close to you."<br />
His thought processes: "I am happy to be in the same room with you; I do not need you to be breathing so close to my face."<br />
My thought processes: "All right, I will sit over here [and try not to feel hurt that you don't want me really really close to you], but some part of me still needs to be touching you so that I can still feel connected to you in some way."<br />
His thought processes: "Your fingers are so cold I can feel them through my shirt sleeve."<br />
My thought processes: "This is nice, isn't it?"<br />
<br />
But he's taught me a lot - about excellence, and hanging pictures straight, and how to love Jesus, and loving people, and using duct tape.<br />
<br />
My mom told me that one year when we were kids, she wasn't sure how they were going to afford our Christmas presents. Then she found out that all summer my dad had been collecting things from garage sales and cleaning them up to give to us as presents. I treasure that story as a vivid display of my dad's thoughtfulness, provision, and love. I hope I continue to grow to be more like him in the years to come.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wlWud1BJU7k/TwzygcMhfCI/AAAAAAAAAhI/yvs2IXQC_Zc/s1600/Da%2526me.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="513" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wlWud1BJU7k/TwzygcMhfCI/AAAAAAAAAhI/yvs2IXQC_Zc/s640/Da%2526me.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">1998</td></tr>
</tbody></table><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-g1Nlg3zwqCc/TwzyemXx7CI/AAAAAAAAAhA/UHbwVHCHAJk/s1600/101_3475-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-g1Nlg3zwqCc/TwzyemXx7CI/AAAAAAAAAhA/UHbwVHCHAJk/s640/101_3475-1.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">2010</td></tr>
</tbody></table>How do you show love to those you love?Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06013698463536484071noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-109895917481866292.post-65517749650506754782012-01-08T13:48:00.001-05:002012-01-08T13:49:49.813-05:00newyear schmewyearYou know when you're really hungry, and you eat something that you didn't really enjoy, so you want to just keep eating because, gosh darn it, even though you're full, you're not really satisfied? This mint chocolate chip ice cream is not really that good...therefore I have to eat the entire carton in order to make up for what a small bowl of really good mint chocolate chip ice cream would've done for me. Right?<br />
<br />
That's how I feel about winter. <br />
<br />
I'm having a hard time not listening to Christmas music.<br />
<br />
I put away my Christmas decorations (they're not very far - there's not really an "away" part of my little apartment) & have strategically placed my Christmas presents in their proper places (which mostly means "my stomach").<br />
<br />
I'm watching the Falcons & the Giants, neither of whom I care about, but if I close my eyes and just listen to the crowds, whistles, and audibles, I can pretend it's a few seasons ago when the Colts were actually a team and I used to watch them and they used to win.<br />
<br />
It is not cold outside.<br />
<br />
It just doesn't feel like winter.<br />
<br />
<br />
I would like for it to snow. Not the "Oh it's snowing! And now it's 60 degrees" type snow. I want it to <i>snow</i>.<br />
<br />
I mean, I'm not saying it has to look like this: <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-plxSY3G2Rzg/TwngFRT8pOI/AAAAAAAAAgw/1u5XwivU5nk/s1600/Me%2526Tree.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-plxSY3G2Rzg/TwngFRT8pOI/AAAAAAAAAgw/1u5XwivU5nk/s640/Me%2526Tree.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
But it wouldn't hurt.<br />
<br />
I don't even know what Kentucky would do with that kind of snow.<br />
<br />
The sun is great and all, but clouds are also God's creation. And who are we to praise Him for one type of creation over another? I feel gypped.<br />
<br />
I mean, I can't even wear my wool socks because my feet are already sweaty most of the time.<br />
<br />
GYPPED.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-K4pf9RIrrd8/TwnkRiDBdtI/AAAAAAAAAg4/1iRtGUk1xAM/s1600/Picture1.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="362" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-K4pf9RIrrd8/TwnkRiDBdtI/AAAAAAAAAg4/1iRtGUk1xAM/s640/Picture1.png" width="640" /></a></div><br />
Boo. >:(Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06013698463536484071noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-109895917481866292.post-51577552154670817832012-01-01T20:12:00.000-05:002012-01-01T20:12:27.081-05:00happy new year<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uQi3Gj0EavU/TwEEQsrFncI/AAAAAAAAAgo/HP1G4p7IQrM/s1600/246009198364700268_mJhbMCdw_c.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uQi3Gj0EavU/TwEEQsrFncI/AAAAAAAAAgo/HP1G4p7IQrM/s640/246009198364700268_mJhbMCdw_c.jpg" width="508" /></a></div>Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06013698463536484071noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-109895917481866292.post-43852244995122234612011-12-27T13:31:00.001-05:002011-12-27T13:32:16.363-05:00from our family to yours<div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="225" mozallowfullscreen="" src="http://player.vimeo.com/video/34128730?title=0&byline=0&portrait=0" webkitallowfullscreen="" width="400"></iframe></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://vimeo.com/34128730">Merry Christmas!</a> from <a href="http://vimeo.com/vineyardlexington">Vineyard Lexington</a> on <a href="http://vimeo.com/">Vimeo</a>.</div>Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06013698463536484071noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-109895917481866292.post-11306999020676662872011-12-26T19:44:00.003-05:002011-12-27T13:33:04.719-05:00hope is aliveHello.<br />
<br />
How was your Christmas?<br />
<br />
Mine looked like this:<br />
<br />
December 23rd: <i>Oh What Fun!</i>, a Christmas service for the whole family @VCC. I was an elf, and I found baby Jesus at the end. (He was under the tinsel, garland, and Christmas ornaments.) I went to Wal-Mart afterward, still dressed as an elf, and even amidst all the people walking through the parking lot, the guy selling garland picked me out of the crowd to pester me. I may have pointy shoes, but I'm a person, too. And I don't want your garland.<br />
<br />
December 24th: Two Christmas Eve services, six Lindor white chocolate truffles, a nap, and another Christmas Eve service. I loved the darkness of the auditorium and hearing 170 voices sing out, "For He alone is worthy." It was beautiful and intimate, and I fell asleep that night thinking about how blessed I am to be in this church, with these people, and a child of this amazing God.<br />
<br />
December 25th: The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of deep darkness a light has dawned (Isa 9:2). I watched <i>White Christmas </i>and ate Raisin Bran in bed before heading out to spend the day with some of my favorite people on this earth. So much to make me laugh, so much to make me full, so many bourbon balls. I will not say I did not miss my family & the traditions I missed having for the first time in 24 years. But I am one blessed cookie to have the people in my life who are in my life.<br />
<br />
December 26th: Happy day after merry Christmas day! (To quote Mom.) I went to work for a couple of hours, thought about how practical gas cards are & how I wouldn't be sad to get one, and was surprised by a Speedway card at my desk! And when I pulled into the gas station, my empty light was glowing. It's little things like a full tank of gas that make my entire day glowier. And the fact that I've scrubbed my bathroom and kitchen floors and watched a few episodes of <i>The King of Queens </i>and wrote a poem.<br />
<br />
I hope you had a wonderful Christmas of experiencing <i>God with us</i>, wherever you were and with whomever you were. I for one hope to continue to experience His nearness in new and dependable ways in the days after Christmas. For He alone is worthy.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><object class="BLOGGER-youtube-video" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0" data-thumbnail-src="http://0.gvt0.com/vi/OdyLXdI7l_g/0.jpg" height="266" width="320"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/OdyLXdI7l_g&fs=1&source=uds" /><param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF" /><embed width="320" height="266" src="http://www.youtube.com/v/OdyLXdI7l_g&fs=1&source=uds" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"></embed></object></div>Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06013698463536484071noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-109895917481866292.post-16534473620821498202011-12-20T08:31:00.001-05:002011-12-20T08:32:19.385-05:00Not true, CinderellaLast night I had three nasty dreams.<br />
<br />
One was that I was dying.<br />
<br />
I woke up from that at 1am and fell back asleep to dream that Courtney and I were being attacked by a giant cockroach, with large pincers. It sounds funny, but it was not.<br />
<br />
Finally, I dreamed my dad died. In my dream, I thought I was doing okay, until I heard <a href="http://grooveshark.com/s/The+Promise/2x86Lb?src=5" target="_blank">this</a> song and remembered him playing it in our living room on his guitar, and then I crumbled to the floor in tears.<br />
<br />
That's when I woke up.<br />
<br />
Sometimes I hate dreams.<br />
<br />
If you described them to anyone in different terms, they would think you were describing some sort of horror sci-fi movie.<br />
<br />
"And then you fall into this trance where you can't consciously control what pictures and images you see, and no matter how much will you might have, you can't stop them from coming."<br />
<br />
That sounds GREAT.<br />
<br />
And I hate when dreams leave this reside all over you the next day. I'm still trying to shake the awful feeling that my dad is gone.<br />
<br />
So I texted him this morning.<br />
<br />
me: What doin?<br />
dad: I just sat down to read my bibles.<br />
me: All of it?<br />
dad: ru meaning from Gamiso to Ramilations?<br />
<br />
Then I felt a little better.<br />
<br />
But not 100%.Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06013698463536484071noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-109895917481866292.post-50276446541079461952011-12-17T10:33:00.000-05:002011-12-17T10:33:36.584-05:00my favorite Christmas hymn<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/xiGyRAhpgQo?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06013698463536484071noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-109895917481866292.post-46265461095248514562011-12-11T21:11:00.001-05:002011-12-11T21:13:22.117-05:00The Ultimate If/ThenOne time two and a half years ago, when I was feeling lonely & tired & stretched pretty thin, my friend (let's call him Mufasa) encouraged me in an email with, "Rest in Jesus."<br />
<br />
I read his words and replied, "I don't know how to rest in Jesus."<br />
<br />
It's been two and a half years, and I think I finally understand.<br />
<br />
At least, maybe a little.<br />
<br />
I've always liked the verse that says, "Abide in me, and I will abide in you" (John 15:4). Well, that's what I want, to abide in Jesus. And if abiding in Jesus means He then abides in me, that sounds like the best option out there.<br />
<br />
But how the heck do you abide in Jesus?<br />
<br />
I've always wanted it to be some sort of feeling, some sort of achievement. Like, hello, I'm abiding in Jesus, can't you see me floating around instead of walking? When someone tells me, "Rest in Jesus," or when Jesus tells me, "Abide in Me," I want to be able to take a deep breath, and, by the time I breathe out, to feel safe & secure & at peace. <br />
<br />
It's like when you're about to take a trip and someone tells you, "Be safe." Or when you're really upset and someone tells you, "Calm down." Well, yes. Those are the results I would like to achieve: safety and calmness. But simply saying those words over me isn't going to magically make me safe or make me calm. This isn't <i>Harry Potter</i>, and you can't make me feel okay by pointing a stick at me and saying "feelicus okaytio."<br />
<br />
So this morning is when I realized that Jesus' "abide in Me/abide in you" statement is an if/then, and here's what it means, when you break it down (& use visuals). Simply replace the underlined with any mix of words below it:<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">If I </span><u><span style="font-size: large;">abide in Jesus</span></u>, then I will have <u><span style="font-size: large;">Je</span><span style="font-size: large;">sus abiding in me</span></u><span style="font-size: large;">.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;">memorize peace</div><div style="text-align: center;">pray joy</div><div style="text-align: center;">meditate a defense</div><div style="text-align: center;">remember confidence</div><div style="text-align: center;">sing refuge</div><div style="text-align: center;">praise understanding</div><div style="text-align: center;">etc. & more!</div><br />
You know when you're lying in bed, and you have the thought, "Ugh, I will never get married," you counter it by thinking, "The Lord will fulfill His purpose for me (Ps. 138:8)," and <span style="font-size: large;">that's abiding in Jesus</span>. Or when you tape a Bible verse to your dashboard so that whenever you get into your car, you see, "The Lord is my rock and my fortress and my deliverer (2 Sam. 22:2)," <span style="font-size: large;">you're abiding in Jesus</span>. Or when you are getting [justifiably!] annoyed or angry, & instead of commiserating with yourself or someone else, you choose to pray, "Holy Spirit, breathe into my attitude and change me to think more like you," <span style="font-size: large;">you are</span> SO TOTALLY <span style="font-size: large;">abiding in Jesus!</span> And when you don't feel at all like singing the same worship song about running into Jesus' arms, because you don't feel at all like the riches of His love will always be enough, but you sing it anyway,<span style="font-size: large;"> that is</span> <i>most especially</i> <span style="font-size: large;">abiding in Jesus.</span><br />
<br />
So then, you know that moment when nothing has changed - the situation's still shaky, the relationship is still broken, the forecast is still cloudy - yet you have this unexplainable just <i>knowing</i> that everything's going to be okay (even when all fingers point at you & say, "You should be worrying")? <span style="font-size: large;">That's Jesus abiding in you.</span> Or when you feel compassion toward someone whose suffering you never noticed before, or feel interest in a people group you used to disdain, or feel love for someone you know absolutely nothing about, well, my friend, <span style="font-size: large;">that's Jesus abiding in you.</span> And when, in the middle of singing that worship song that you don't feel like singing, you suddenly feel very much like running into the arms of Jesus and that His love is so rich that you're not even tasting the amount of a teacup, <span style="font-size: large;">JESUS is ABIDING in YOU.</span><br />
<br />
True story.<br />
<div style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;">Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things <b>[abide in Jesus]</b>. Whatever you have learned or received or heard from me, or seen in me—put it into practice <b>[abide in Jesus]</b>. And the God of peace will be with you <b>[Jesus will abide in you!!]</b>. (Philippians 4:8-9 <span style="font-size: small;">[over-excited exclamation points mine]</span>)</span></span></div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: inherit;">So...rest in Jesus. Thanks, Mufasa. I think I will.<br />
<br />
(For more motivation in this, I recommend reading <i>Secrets of the Secret Place</i> by Bob Sorge, &/or listening to this 10/31/11 sermon from the Vineyard called "<a href="http://vineyardlex.com/media.php?pageID=28" target="_blank">Strong Training</a>.")</div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></div>Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06013698463536484071noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-109895917481866292.post-49696733900302798512011-12-04T10:13:00.001-05:002011-12-04T10:21:22.723-05:00there's no place like home for the holidaysI'm back in the great state of Wisconsin. Flying out of Baltimore into Milwaukee, the pilot ended his welcome speech with a pause, then a very mischievous, "Go Bears." I looked around for the big burly man I'd seen earlier, dressed head-to-toe in green and yellow. Luckily we had half the US Army on our flight, so I felt relatively safe. As long as they weren't Green Bay fans. In which case, who would fly the plane once the pilot was dead? So I turned on my iPod and went to sleep. I don't have the energy to worry about these kinds of things.<br />
<br />
And who knew Wilmore was so famous in the Louisville airport? Walking through security, the man at the conveyor belt noticed my sweatshirt (it has blaring white letters spelling "ASBURY," made out of the same material as bycicle reflectors, I'm pretty sure) and said, "Ever read <em>A Mighty Rushing Wind</em>?"<br />
What a random question. I'd been thinking about whether or not to take off my shoes and wasn't ready, so I simply answered, "No?" Instead, I wish I would've been more composed so I could've answered, "No. Ever read <em>The Little Red Hen</em>?"<br />
But then he said, "It's about the revival at Asbury in the 70s. Are you familiar with it?"<br />
Why, no! There was a revival at Asbury in the 70s? Instead I simply nodded my head and walked through the laser gate that searched my soul for evil thoughts. I am always terrified of those things, even though I have nothing to hide. I hate being tested. I even hate eye exams when I get my license renewed. I just never want to fail.<br />
<br />
But then, the guy on the other side of the soul-reader glanced at my sweatshirt and asked, "Is it true there's no place in Wilmore to get a cigarette?"<br />
WHAT the HECK. The people in the Wal-Mart in Lexington haven't even heard of Asbury. How do these people in the Louisville airport know all about our little university?<br />
I replied, "Um, I don't think I ever tried."<br />
"But you couldn't, if you did, right? And everything's closed on Sundays?"<br />
I just want to put my shoes back on. I smiled and nodded and took my Sketchers to a nearby bench. Then I looked around and noticed I was the only one in line. Poor guys were probably just really bored and lonely. And who doesn't like talking about Wilmore to pass the time?<br />
<br />
A picture of my first night home: <br />
<br />
Dad and Brother decided to go to a college Christmas concert instead of be home for my first night (Dad tried to make up for it by taping a giant picture of his head in a Santa hat to the passenger seat for when my mom picked me up at the airport, but I was already struggling with abandonment issues), so, to retaliate, I finished Dad's carton of peppermint ice cream. He doesn't know yet.<br />
Then, feeling more full and therefore more generous, I tried to figure out how to wrap Dad's four pounds of Lexington Coffee & Tea coffee so that he couldn't smell it through the wrapping paper. Which is impossible, and my entire room smells like Peruvian coffee beans right now. (One of the most pleasant problems I've ever had.)<br />
Then, I laid down on the couch at eight o'clock while Mom was watching <em>Psych</em> (Mom: "Have you seen this episode before?" Me: "Mom, please." What episode of <em>Psych</em> have I not seen, at least 3 times?) in an attempt to wait for the boys to come home (Me: "It's only seven and I want to go to bed." Mom: "Well it's really eight your time." As if that makes it any less pathetic), and I fell asleep.<br />
Then, Dad and Brother got home, I woke up, told them hello, and then went to bed.<br />
Now they're all at church, and I'm getting ready to put a meatloaf in the oven before I head out to join them. <br />
<br />
I want to replace the 1/4 cup milk with eggnog, to show them they can't escape Christmas cheer, or me.<br />
<br />
Merry Christmas from Wisconsin.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-RSZ7C2-aSYg/Ttt-n2fa7nI/AAAAAAAAAfs/rk1N4g7GZ9U/s1600/ElfRodgers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" dda="true" height="296" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-RSZ7C2-aSYg/Ttt-n2fa7nI/AAAAAAAAAfs/rk1N4g7GZ9U/s400/ElfRodgers.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06013698463536484071noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-109895917481866292.post-40587199036087109272011-11-14T18:01:00.000-05:002011-11-14T18:01:51.851-05:00my dreams turned to pumpkins<i>[This post is dedicated to Tim H: Future pastor (though he doesn't know it yet), hide-and-seek player (check your closets), and independent of Brandon R.]</i><br />
<br />
The most amazing thing happened to me a couple of weeks ago.<br />
<br />
I got on my work email between church services and ignored all unread emails except one with this subject line:<br />
<br />
candy<br />
<br />
Just like that.<br />
<br />
candy<br />
<br />
So I opened it, thinking maybe it had something to do with the Halloween Festival we were about to put on the next day in our parking lot. But this is what the email said (in this font, too):<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoPlainText" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">meijers in hamburg has your zachary pumpkin candy their on a shelf right inside the front door they have candy corn pumpkins and something else i was there saturday nite and bought a bowl and they only had about 5 bowls of pumpkins left so if they run out you may have to wait till they restock the shelf or try a different store around town in case your wondering i live out here in dixie subdivison where vineyard church is and was looking at their website and stumbled on to your blog and read about the candy your looking for so quit reading this email and get to meijers before they sell out</div><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoPlainText" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"> p.s. dont eat so much that you make yourself</div><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoPlainText" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"> sick i've already eaten half a bowl just while</div><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoPlainText" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"> typing this email bye bigjoe</div><br />
<br />
I read it three times, and my eyes actually watered with emotion.<br />
<br />
After church I drove out to Hamburg with the same feeling I'm sure I'd have if I'd had many long talks with my boyfriend about marriage and was about to propose, but was still a little afraid of that tiny bit chance he'd say no.<br />
<br />
Please marry me, mello creme pumpkins. Please.<br />
<br />
And they did.<br />
<br />
It was a huge shelf, right inside the doors, and it was filled to the brim with Zachary candies. And Big Joe was right. The pumpkins were there, smiling, orange, happy to be so creamy and delicious and in my paws. And I bought them and took them home with me, and we are so happy together.<br />
<br />
Thanks, Big Joe.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TTyayWw9l9Q/TsGbmz0j7bI/AAAAAAAAAfc/tWfHG9V2q80/s1600/zachary.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TTyayWw9l9Q/TsGbmz0j7bI/AAAAAAAAAfc/tWfHG9V2q80/s400/zachary.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rhett & Scarlett are caught up with emotion, too....</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06013698463536484071noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-109895917481866292.post-66526037171848279312011-10-07T08:40:00.003-04:002011-10-07T08:40:00.461-04:00gone, but not forgottenIt's autumn.<br />
<br />
This means that it is time for Zachary to start producing tubs of mello creme pumpkins. Except for that I can't find them anywhere anymore. <a href="http://leavingmynets.blogspot.com/2010/10/summer-fall-time-to-go.html">Last year</a> I wrote that I was going to on a candy pumpkin hunt. This year I figured I'd save the gas and write to Zachary themselves.<br />
<br />
<blockquote>Wal-Mart has stopped selling your mello creme candy pumpkins, and I don't know what to do. I've looked other places, but I still can't find them. I've tried Brach's, but they don't even compare. I love the creamy honey texture of Zachary candy pumpkins, and I look for them every fall, but I can't find them. Please help. I'm contemplating driving the 4 hours up to Frankfort, IN, just to buy them. Watching football is not the same without a tub of candy pumpkins on my lap. I'm not saying I need them, but I do really, really desire them. Thanks.</blockquote> I was hoping they'd offer to send me a free tub because of my profuse gushing of my love for them. Instead, they emailed me this response:<br />
<br />
<blockquote>Heather,<br />
<br />
Thank you for your interest in Zachary Confections! I'm so sorry you're having difficulty finding our product. We do however have some options for you. Currently you can find the mello crème pumpkins online at George Howe and the link is below.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.georgehowe.com/fall-candy/" target="_blank">http://www.georgehowe.com/<wbr></wbr>fall-candy/</a><br />
<br />
I will keep searching and if I find any in your area I will let you know!<br />
<br />
Have a great day!<br />
<br />
Beth Randall<br />
Zachary Confections</blockquote>In which case, with shipping, it would cost me $9 for an 18-oz bag. At Wal-Mart, they were $1.88. So I'm putting out an alert.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><i>Have You Seen Me?</i> </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mfy15nvmKLM/To2kvt8uMSI/AAAAAAAAAe4/8dy000jaP8Y/s1600/pumpkin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mfy15nvmKLM/To2kvt8uMSI/AAAAAAAAAe4/8dy000jaP8Y/s1600/pumpkin.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<i>I am an creamy mixture of honey and sugar shaped like a pumpkin. If you have information as to my whereabouts, please alert your local pumpkin connoisseur [that'd be ME] immediately. Also, do not mistaken me for Brach's, or you will never be trusted again.</i><br />
<br />
I miss you.Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06013698463536484071noreply@blogger.com2