The Man Cave

I can only guess that it's every man's dream. After all, commercial after commercial shows the man, gaping and wide-eyed, perhaps drooling slightly, at the big screen, surround-sound set up in the store. He no longer hears what is going on in the outside world. Sometimes he even faints dead away. It's more than he can imagine. Dare I say it ranks right up there with sex?

This past summer we had our basement finished into a game room. We have my grandmother's antique shuffleboard table down there, as well as a ping pong and fuseball table. It's a kid-friendly zone, made to withstand the likes of nerf footballs bouncing off the walls, carpet hockey tournaments, toy playing, or good old fashion wrestling. Two weeks ago, however, that all changed with the installation of the flat screen tv and surround sound speakers. Wrestling must stay within a certain area, and I haven't seen many footballs thrown around down there. The sectional sofa separates the game room from the "TV room". This small sitting/TV area has become...The Man Cave.

More evenings than not, I have felt a rumbling along the floor boards of my first floor. My dog has been barking at unusual noises coming up through the heater vents. My family has been devoured by this white door that is at the end of our hallway, the downward stairwell leading them into another world. I peer into that stairwell which they just traveled, but that world remains dark, with only a faint light snaking it's way to where I stand. I have even called them by name, but I swear I can hear my own voice echoing back. No other sound but the rumble from the speakers is heard. I think they are too far into the cave for me to draw them back. I'll have to wait at the entrance for any signs of life.

With the lack of school this week, and a lighter work schedule, my husband and children have had many late nights in front of the big square frame that hangs on the wall. I have tried to join them on occasion, but not being a huge tv watcher, I find myself watching them and their reactions to the movie when it suddenly sounds like it's all happening right in the same room. I've jumped from my seat just from the sounds emanating from the speakers, not because anything scary was happening on the screen. I did watch an entire movie, minus the part where I fell asleep in the middle. It's easy to fall asleep when the lights are out all the time. I turned the lights on once, not realizing the gravity of my mistake. I merely wanted to see where I was going. I now know why it's called a Man Cave - the lights are never on.

So I took a different approach. I tried to enjoy my new exercise dvd on that set up in the basement. I think it took me just as long to figure out the 4 remote controls and how to get the dvd to show up on the tv screen (after all, I could hear it. I just couldn't see it.), as it did for me to do my workout. I need to keep a sheet of paper down there, just to write down the instructions, the channels on which everything should be, as well as the password for the parent-protected channels. And forget about flipping through the channels. If it's not password-protected, then it's the HD equivalent in some high number that I'll never remember.

Ultimately, I know that the excitement and passion of this new setup with eventually pass. As a family, we just aren't huge tv watchers. This week I've learned that come 8:00, my husband will quietly enter through that white door at the end of the hall, down the stairwell, and make his escape to that darkened, underground world, to a place where loud rumblings and digital media coexist. It's his time to unwind, glaze over, perhaps even drool. As loud as the sound system gets, I know he has tuned out the outside world. If he's not in bed in the middle of the night, I'll know he has fainted dead away. I wonder if one of those remotes can set an alarm?

A New Year's Song

Should old acquaintance be forgot and never brought to mind? As the year closes, I have a lot to remember and for which to be thankful. So many memories made with my children and husband. Taking trips with my family. Time spent with neighbors and friends. A new church branch beginning and spurting with growth. Another year of celebrating birthdays. Health. Love. Forgiveness. Grace.

I have an old acquaintance that I never forgot, and old friend that was always in my mind. My earliest memories contain memories of her. My first birthday party pictures always have her smiling by my side, or playing with my toys. My first trip to the emergency room was from an accident on her porch. My earliest sleepovers were with her. My first days of school always included walking with her to the busstop and waiting for our bus. We shared secrets, big wheels, mud pies, ball games, music... We played, we laughed, and we loved. We also grew apart.

I went away to college, she went into the workforce. I moved away from our hometown, she stayed. We tried. We tried not to grow apart, we tried to remain true to each other, but life had other ideas. It happened. We lost touch, we lost communication, we lost each other. We lost our sisterhood.

We moved along in life, marrying, having children and becoming the moms we always talked about. Our kids would grow up to be best friends, we said. We'll grow old and gray together, we said. Should old acquaintance be forgot and never brought to mind?

As the years have gone by, so many times I've picked up the phone and put it back down. I've written letters that only got torn up and thrown away. I've run into her and made small talk, only to walk away feeling empty and sad inside. Old acquaintances should never be forgotten! This one time, I didn't hang up the phone. I left a message. This one time I didn't throw the card away. I put a stamp on it and mailed it. She didn't forget. I didn't forget.

As the year draws to a close, I've rekindled a friendship that has been a missing part of my life for 20 years. Why so long? We don't know. We're not wasting time on the "if only's" or the "what if's". We have a lot of years to make up. Our kids must meet each other, and though I don't expect they'll be best friends, they have shared stories that link them in ways of which they are not even aware. We'll grow older and grayer together. We've forgiven, and we've extended grace to each other, as we've been given grace from above. We're learning to love each other again. She's like the long lost sister for whom I've been waiting to come home. My heart was always open, and it has welcomed her back in.

Who Needs Sleep?

Yawn...I am typing this and trying to stay awake at the same time. It's not late. It's just that I've been getting up early this week - REALLY early. I have begun my spring/summer ritual of powerwalking during the early morning hours. When I say early morning, my alarm goes off at 5:05 am, and I am on the pavement by 5:30 am. Waking this early is not an easy task for me. I am a 'day' person - not arising early, not staying up too late. But I am held accountable by walking with friends, who ARE morning people.

I am enjoying my morning walks. I've spent most of the days walking with one friend, who typically is a runner, but is restricted to walking for a few weeks. I feel blessed by her presence. She is full of energy and zest, singing, laughing and pleasant at this early hour. Me...not so much. I flat out told her this morning that I didn't know whether to laugh with her or tell her to shut up. I decided to laugh. It brightened my dismally tired mood and lightened my step.

The sun is not quite above the horizon at this hour. There is still a slight hue of dark blue/gray to the sky. There is a hush to the neighborhood. The dampness of the dew feels refreshing once we've been going awhile. Our voices echo off the hills and get lost in the woods. On a few mornings, we've caught sight of deer crossing the street. There may be the stray car that passes on it's way to another destination, but otherwise, we have command of the streets. It's the sweetness of these early mornings that we share our life stories: what happened the day before, what we have planned for the current day, how we deal with our children or husbands, what the doctor said, how we appreciate our parents, how to spit (surely a runner's thing). It's peaceful, blissful. It's what I need before the craziness of the day begins. I don't want to admit that I am beginning to enjoy that hour of the day. But I think I just did.

By the end of the hour, the sun is up, and we feel the stir of the day beginning. Sweat is pouring from our skin, but we've solved some of life's issues in that time together. I am fully awake and alive, laughing and looking forward to another day of walking. Until, of course, the alarm goes off.

Ring Around the...

I recently spent an afternoon shopping, which is usually an enjoyable task for me. However, this particular time was a little different. It was my annual hunt for the right swimsuit. I don't need another suit, but swimsuits to me are like shoes for some women, or purses for others. Actually, I did need new black bottoms, so my idea was to find a pair of bottoms, and match it with a different top than what I already have at home. What I found was a whole different experience.

I don't know why I don't remember this year to year, but swimsuits do NOT run in the size that a woman normally wears. If I tried on the same size in which my year round clothing runs, I would cut off my circulation. Why is that? Why don't swimsuit manufacturers try the vanity sizing that all other clothing companies have gone into? It's not enough that most women are self-conscience anyway regarding how they look when wearing very little clothing in public. But now we have to go up in sizes just to find something that doesn't leave deep red rings around our thighs or back. It's a blow to our self-esteem.

And while I am on the subject of how suits fit, who invented the woman's swimsuit anyway? Why is it that 95% of men wear long, loose shorts (the other 5% should!) that could pass as everyday clothing, but women wear something akin to their underwear? We can't throw on a t-shirt and get into a restaurant dressed that way. Spend too much time in the sun, and the parts that shouldn't or don't normally see the sunlight get painfully burnt. (Then try wearing the undergarments after that!).

My trip ended with me trying on one size larger and finding it to be small, then trying on two sizes larger and finding it too big. There's nothing enjoyable about seeing yourself in the "too small" suit, in the three-way mirror, under the flurescent lights of the dressing room. However, when trying on the bigger size first, I did feel a little lighter, a little firmer, a little tanner (for some reason). I guess I can be glad that I need that inbetween size - my winter workouts have paid off slightly. Not enough, though, to want to walk around in my underwear at the public pool. Anyway, I didn't find black bottoms that fit properly, but I did come home with a cute bathing suit top. My search will continue, but at least this time I'll know what to expect.

Change for the Better

Change is a scary thing for me. I have no idea why. I didn't have any major life changing event to make me think that change is bad. Actually, I don't think change is bad. I just like to keep things as they are, for the most part. I know there are instances where change is beneficial, like when one is trying to break a life-long bad habit. Change brings up our fear of the unknown. Some respond better to that idea, perhaps because they have an adventurous spirit. I tend to hesitate before jumping right in. However, with the upcoming weekend that includes a big change, I jumped right in feet first without a second thought at all.

Our church, Calvary Baptist of State College, is branching out. Actually, it already has, as we are beginning to outgrow the size of our current building. Not only did we branch out for the space, but we branched out to be able available to more people, to reach a different section of the community, to go out to people instead of expecting people to come to us. For the past year, we have attended our church service in the local high school auditorium, because it can seat (and park) more people. It turned out to be a truly wonderful experience, and the feeling that we were in a school dissipated within the first few weeks.

We are about to grow another branch of that tree. Starting this Sunday, Palm Sunday, we are starting a new service in an elementary school on our end of town. When this idea was first presented, I loved the idea of being closer to home, and in being involved in something from the ground up. As a keyboard player and singer, I also loved the idea of being a part of the worship team on a regular basis, though I knew it would be sacrificing a lot of our travel time on the weekends. I love the idea of reaching out, yet again, instead of waiting for people to reach out to us.

We are now a day and a half away from our "launch" of this new service. As I sit here, I have to stretch to see over the new electronic keyboard that I have been playing around with, the same one I will be using during our worship times Sunday mornings. At this time tomorrow, I will be at the school setting up the stage, some instruments, the chairs, the tables, the lights - all to bring God glory in yet another school setting. It is all so exciting, yet I sat in our regular service this past Sunday feeling a little sad. This would be my last time worshipping with the people whom I have worshipped with the past year, seeing the same familiar faces, sitting in our same row and same seats. I shared this with Mike, who responded, " I know, hon...you don't like change."

I thought a lot about that. This is one of those changes that is beneficial, if there ever was one. This new service will be on an end of town that is mostly country, with few places of worship to offer this community. This service is on the edge of a new and growing neighborhood. This service will also bring God into a school, regardless of whether it's a week day or not. This new service will bring a bond and form a community within the Calvary family - with those who have chosen to make this service in this location their new home on Sunday mornings. This service is another way to glorify God through ALL of the above. Change that is definitely worth pondering and thinking about.

Though I may not sleep all that well Saturday night, I look forward to Sunday morning. I look forward to meeting new people, I look forward to playing on a new worship team and forming bonds with the other musicians, I look forward to serving and witnessing to my own community, as this is very close to my neighborhood. I look forward to allowing God to use me in all of these capacities and those that I have yet to learn about. Those unknowns are definitely not anything to fear.

It's Ball Season!

The sounds of spring...I know what you are thinking. I'm not talking of robins or raindrops. The sounds that say spring to me are the sounds of balls hitting mitts, clanging bats, and banging cleats, trying to remove the mud. We have entered ball season in this house.

We have a "Major" league player, which in this town, means that he has practice about 4 nights a week, plus the weekends. This continues until the season begins Easter weekend (I guess those that are on the board of the Little League see the sport as holy, to be beginning it that weekend). We have a first year fastpitch player, playing in the "Minor" league this year. She has yet to start her practices, but at least we have a coach's name and a team roster. We also have a player in the coach-pitch league. We are still awaiting his team information to come in.

I grew up playing softball, the sport that I love. I began in the fifth grade, and I began right away as a pitcher. With my dad as my coach, I'm not sure if he saw my potential as a pitcher, or he just put me there because of the lack of strength in my throwing arm. Even as an eleven year old, it took me some time to develop my throwing arm because, as we found out later, I didn't know with which arm to throw. I am, by most standards, right-handed. I write with my right hand, and I eat with my right hand. I started off the preseason that year throwing with my right hand. I remember catching with my dad in the back yard, and barely being able to get the ball to him across the yard. After numberous attempts, I believe he lost his patience with my"girly" throws and told me to take that glove off of my left hand and throw the ball. So I did. What I remember about his reaction was the fact that he didn't say anything for what seemed like minutes, but what was probably more like a second or two. What I remember him saying was, "Hmmm...so you're a left-hander." We had to get me a new glove, and I was ready for the season.

The softball field became a family affair for us. Dad was coach, mom cheered from her chair. My grandparents attended every game, even as we travelled in various tournaments. I remember grandpa carrying their two chairs, and I remember grandma keeping score with her little notepad she kept in her purse. These days, there seem to be so many parents who just do not enjoy sitting at these youth baseball or softball games for hours on end. But I just love it. I love the sounds of the ballfields. I love propping up the portable chair, lathering on the sunscreen, and screaming for my kids as they play. I love to find different flavors of sunflower seeds or rolls of bubble tape for them to enjoy in the dugout. I love to see them in full uniform - from hat to cleats. I love the dust from the field, hot dogs at the concession stand, and watching a sweet play on the field. Nothing speaks more to me of my childhood than the ballfield. And now I watch my children enjoy the same pasttime that I did. I enjoy having their grandparents come to watch their games, and their grandpa keeping the score.

It's the great American sport. It's a great family affair. And it's a great place to find me if you're looking for me.

Though I'll spend a lot of time in my van transporting my children to their practices and games, you won't hear me complain this season. If I could be in all three places a once, I would be at each field watching and cheering them on.

Miss Money Bags

Today was 'Gift Card Shopping' Day. I have accumulated a pile of gift cards in my purse that are my children's, mostly as gifts from Christmas. With Spring Break being this week in our town, with the weather still cold and damp today, it was a perfect day to get out of the house and into the stores. In theory...

Actually, it wasn't all that bad. We hit the mall first, to spend my daughter's card. The boys were very patient at first. Then they starting finding items in this girl's store that they wanted to buy. (I allowed everyone to bring a small amount of money, in my mind to cover any costs that weren't covered by the gift card. I now see that the kids thought they brought their money to spend, spend, spend). The items weren't "girly" - but candy items, junky things...NO. We moved on from there to the shoe store, where my son thought he could spend his money on $60 shoes...NO. On the way out of the mall, they begged me to stop in the Game Stop, where they searched the walls for games. No one had gift cards here, so of course, the answers were NO, NO, NO. Barnes & Noble is always a fun place to take the kids. My oldest had gift cards to use there. Amazingly, we got away with his books, a couple for me, and no whining or complaining from the others. Target was our last stop. The two youngest had gift cards for there. I think I spent more time telling the oldest NO, telling the middle NO and keeping her from whining, "When is it my turn to look around?", and telling the youngest NO, and to decide on something for the price of his card. Again, it all sounded good in theory.

Trying to teach my children the value of money (even in gift card form) is a difficult thing. I want them to enjoy using the card, while choosing something they will love and use, but at the same time being careful that they are not buying just to buy something. So it seems to turn into a "NO-fest." I explain that for the price of their card, they can get X amount of items, or one big something special. They can also wait to watch their beloved item go on sale so they can get what they want for the amount on the card. But that's like hearing the ice cream truck, running to get your money, and having it never come down your street. DISAPPOINTMENT!

Why is it that kids with money in their pockets feel that 'burn', or that need to use it up? They cannot stand to have money with them and NOT be able to spend it. If they even buy a candy bar, they are happy to have spent something. They would rather spend their money or card on something they sort of want, than to have to bring that money home and stash it back in their secret hiding places. It's just a matter of maturity levels for the most part. When they get to my maturity level, they may even forget they have gift cards to use (though I now have a special place in my wallet where I keep mine so I no longer forget).

After all was said and done, everyone came home with something. Lego's were being built, books were being read, new slippers were being worn, and I had time to enjoy a cup of tea. I still have more gift cards in my purse, as they weren't all used today. But that just gives me another chance to take a shopping trip and turn it into a teachable moment. Maybe I'll be able to give more YES answers!