Gumby's MOPS Convention Trip

For the record, I technically, did not steal Gumby. I may have suggested that he was within reach and unattended.. but I myself did not steal Gumby.

However- I did have fun living vicariously through Gumby during my rare down time during MOPS International Convention. (It’s NOT all work.. there is a lot of PLAY)

Gumby was a busy little guy.  He met many field leaders and MOPS moms. (Strangely enough, most field leaders refused to allow their faces to be shown in pictures.)

Gumby met a beautiful bride and handsome groom.  Gumby relaxed in the hotel lobby near the fireplace. Gumby met a steer.  (He also climbed on the fence around the steer that was clearly labeled “DO NOT CLIMB OR STAND ON THIS FENCE) Apparently Gumby is a rebel. Gumby found a train that was irresistible, he had to ride it, and even found a little house that was JUST his size!

Gumby brought out my jealous side- by going to the spa.  He had a hot tub, a massage, and a makeover. I wanted to pinch that little guy when he kept eating cheesecake and carrot cake without blowing up like the Pillsbury Dough Boy. I would have gained a pants size, maybe 2!

Gumby also bought a cowbell and stuffed it into my suitcase for my youngest son.  I can assure you- waking up to a cowbell rung 3 inches from your left ear is NOT a pleasant experience.  Gumby kept asking what SDWSC meant.. now he knows. Gumby watched the season kick off of Pushing Daisies.. I missed it.  Gumby was touched by Erwin McManus’ new book “Wide Awake” as was I.   That little bugger even stole my wedding ring to wear as a crown…cause he was feeling like a prince for a day! No worries- I got it back, I’m bigger than Gumby. Oh and Gumby wants the world to know- Texan BBQ?  ROCKS.

Finally- Gumby was hand delivered to his caretaker and bestfriend, by a Gaylord Resort Staff member (who got a very nice tip, I might add)at which point, I might have been rolling on the hallway floor, laughing so hard, that the pictures from his safe return are blurred.

I’m still working to get caught up form the trip- but I just have to say- if you ever get a chance to attend MOPS Convention.. you should go.. you just never know what fun is in store! (especially if you make some of your own:P)

No Gumbys or Field Leaders were harmed in the taking of these pictures.  Also- Due to confidentiality- I cannot disclose who else was involved in the Gumby disturbance- suffice to say, I was not alone.

I am so not, into the whole “celebrity thing”.  I don’t read tabloids.  I don’t watch gossip TV.  I just don’t get it.  I avoid it.  It’s with a sense of pride that I’m convinced I’m somehow “above that”.  That same attitude carried over the first time I saw Lynne Spears book “Through the Storm” on the local bookstore’s shelf.  I already hate what the media does to people- I had no need to read the sordid details about it. I’m above getting involved in all that… aren’t I?  I didn’t give it another thought.

Funny how sometimes God uses exactly what we try and avoid to speak to our hearts.  Lynne Spears was a surprise speaker at MOPS Convention. I wrote about my response to what she shared at convention, on the MOPS Convention blog. I was surprised by how I felt.  She seemed so “normal”.  The things she said were things I’ve said, and have heard from hundreds of mom’s I’ve met and worked with in MOPS International. Instead of a creature of the media or a woman on a vendetta to prove the media wrong- I came face to face with a mom.  Just like any other mom.  I left that session even more committed to reaching out to every mom.

I decided to read the book. I finished it this morning.  What the media had touted as a “parenting book” by Lynne Spears, was NOT a parenting book. Not even close. It is a moms journey, told with authenticy and a realness that grabbed my heart.

As I closed the cover, I realized that Lynne’s story could be read two ways. It would be easy to sit and say:  “Well- isn’t that a shame. Such nice folk, the media has really ripped them off and messed them up.” I could have gone on my merry way- happy and self righteous that I don’t buy the tabloids or watch the shows or read the magazines that have done them so much harm. I could have pitied them and left the book on the table- walking away from it the same person I was when I picked the book up.

Or, I could look deeper into Lynne’s story- and see my own story, and the stories of so many men and women I’ve known.  People whose pain and lives have not been torn apart or blown up in the public media- but those that have been just as judged, torn apart and talked about by the private media.  The  gossip- covered in the veil of “prayer requests” and “venting.”  The cautions and warnings spoken as advice given “in love” about a family- or person… “just so you know.”  Is that any less destructive?  Is that judgmentalism any less painful or hurtful?

I don’t think so.

Lynne’s book sits on the table next to me, right now.  It haunts me with questions…”How did we get here?”  “How did we become a culture that craves the worst?”  “When did we make a sporting event of putting people on pedestals only to strip them naked and then taunt their flaws while they are there?” “When did we start airbrushing more interesting flaws into their lives with lies and photoshop, just to momentarily satiate that craving for the worst we can imagine?” “What happened?” More importantly, “How can we change it?”

It’s easy to blame the media. But, the media only sells what we’ll buy. The truth is- we’ve been surviving on “home-brewed” gossip with our own private media networks, doing the very same things, forever.   I’ve never seen paparazzi at church, or in my mom’s group, knitting group or playgroup.  Camera’s aren’t usually involved. But, there sure are a lot of “reporters” just dying to tell a story, true or not.  And, there are plenty of “readers” who may not be reading in print- but are reading with their ears every word of it. In my opinion, the only way to change it- is to stop it- right where we are.  Right where it started.  With us- individually.

What if, whenever someone started up with a tantalizing “giving you a heads up” story or a venting that was just plain gossip cloaked in “accountability, and authenticity” we simply said: “Enough.  These are PEOPLE you are talking about. People created by and loved by God, if you aren’t going to do anything to really help- then, shut up and start praying for them- and I don’t mean sharing prayer requests.”

I wonder what would happen?  To be honest- I’m not sure.  But, I’m willing to try.

I recommend reading Lynne Spears book: “Through the Storm” read it with an open mind… look past the paparrazzi and the media circus- that may make you feel disconnected.  Listen to a mothers heart.. a heart that loves her daughters and son and grandchildren, who is doing the best she can with what life is throwing at her and hanging onto her faith. Let it change the way you think about the people around you.  Let it change the way you act.

And now- since I don’t know how on earth I can HELP the Spears family- I’ll do this:

I’ll shut up, and pray-

Dear Jesus- this mom’s heart beats for her kids.  She’s doing the best she can and hanging onto her faith.  I pray with her-that she and her children will grow in their relationships with you.  As Lynne shared- I pray for a season of smooth sailing for their family. I pray for Britney, Jayden and Preston, I pray for Jamie Lynn and Maddie, I pray for Bryan Spears, Jamie Spears and for Lynne Spears. No longer creations of the media to me- but YOUR creation- God- I pray for them-  the same prayer that Paul prayed for the Ephesians- and the theme verses we are wading through for MOPS International- this year:

I pray that out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the saints, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.

I love you lord- and am so glad you brought Lynne Spears to MOPS and her book into my home.  I pray that I will walk away different. Changed.  Amen.

I admit— the next time I “slip” and catch myself in a situation where the public or the private media have again caught my attention— I am TOTALLY gonna hear Britney’s voice singing “Oops, I did it again” :)

In July- when I originally posted the article below, I had no idea that was God preparing me for what Erwin McManus would be sharing at MOPS Convention. Saturday morning… He spoke from his new book “Wide Awake” The story he shared was so parallel to my own experience that I have to respond. I was shaking when I left that session, tears flooded my face (Mental note- always wear waterproof mascara- to general session I forgot mine- I was a mess) — I can no longer pretend to ignore the dream that haunts, delights and compels me. I can’t keep running up to the edge and stopping just short of jumping to my dream. I have to trust that God will catch me. I have to try. I pray that as I share this re-post- that it will resonate with you the way Erwin’s story resonated with me…. Thank You MOPS International and Mr McManus- for giving me the kick in the butt- that I desperately needed to finally jump.

After reading here- I hope you’ll pop over to the MOPS International Convention Blog to read how Lynne Spears (yes- Lynne- the mother of Britney and Jamie Lynn Spears she spoke during one of our general sessions ) visit to MOPS Convention has impacted me and other moms- It was incredible.

When standing on the edge of… oh, ….ANYTHING. I get that stomach flip flopping, hands sweating, heart thumping- kind of feeling. Not the “Ohhhhh, I’m in love” feeling- it was the other one- FEAR. It could be a bridge, a cliff, or the top of a steep set of stairs. Not quite panic— but fear. The fear is manageable… but I don’t like it. It makes me feel  just a little too human and frail.

Recently I stood on the very edge of my fear. I was on vacation. We were camping and went to the biggest falls in Mighigan. It was a crystal clear Norman Rockwell type waterfall/swimming hole, complete with waterbugs of all ages, jumping into the rapids, heads bobbing up through the foaming water with grins from ear to ear. I carefully walked out to the edge of the falls- to take a pic.  I had not intention of jumping.  But as I watched… my heart yearned to get past the fear. I was missing out on half the experience. I sawthe beauty of the rushing water-but I couldn’t FEEL it.

Was I afraid of the waterfall?

No. Not a bit- In fact, I was so enraptured by it- that I totally forgot how short my legs are when I bent down to snap a pic— let’s just say I ended up a “soggy bottom mom”. It wasn’t the waterfall that had me afraid- it was the JUMPING , that worried me.  What if I got hurt? What if I looked like the pudgey mom of three I know I am- and people watched me? What if I never came back up from the river bottom?

I watched as child after child jumped and swam… I watched as adult after adult proved the safety of the jump, by bobbing back to the surface. I watched as my own friends and family rose out of the rapids- aglow with joy.  A tiny bit of courage started to well up in my soul. I wanted to do it.  I wanted to jump.

I took my camera to the rivers edge and asked my college boy to hold it- and told him NOT to miss getting my pic.  I warned him it could be the last.  He knows his mother- he was shocked I was going out there. I carefully edged out toward the middle. I looked down into the swirling water….I walked back to shore. I handed my camera/security blanket to my oldest, and told him I was going to jump. His jaw fell open and nearly hit the shore. I told him to make sure and get the shot- there would only (probably) be one take.

I made my way to the centerpoint, my feet slipping on algae covered rocks. I stepped aside as 2 9-10 year old girls jumped into the deep. (Ok so maybe it was 4 1/2 feet) I plugged my nose… I unplugged it. I stepped back- I stepped forward.  I finally went to the edge–my heart racing… then I stepped down just one rock lower (No need to make it scarier than it already was!) ….I plugged my nose. I made eye contact one last time with family and friends (just in case) .. and then? I jumped.

The water seemed to jump up to catch me. It was not at all like the tearing, torrent that I’d imagined. It was cool, refreshing. Embracing. I sank to the bottom, and my feet found a foot hold on the riverbed.  My legs, automatically sprang me back to the top. . My head broke the surface-I screamed-” I did it!”  I was grinning like a mascara streaked, madwoman. And I did not care what anyone thought. I DID IT! I JUMPED!

I climbed back up the rocks, and then? I did it again, and again.  What had been so fear filled- had become joyfilled. On the way back to camp-  I started to wonder. How many times have I stood on the edge of fun- and  joy filled experience, paralyzed by a fear? There have been hundreds.

I’ve missed a lot more than waterfall jumping adventures.  I’ve felt the same adrenaline rush as I stood at the top of faith leaps- watching others leap- while I stayed on the rivers edge- in fear.

I’ve been afraid to try, for risk of failure. I’ve been afraid to trust at risk of trust broken. I’ve been afraid to jump- at risk of falling… but all I’ve lost- was the joy of being caught- by much stronger arms than the arms of a river.

The waterfalls in faith leaps aren’t always as tame as the Ocqueoc Falls, that I jumped into on vacation. (and honestly- they are TINY— but it’s the biggest we have here in Michigan:P) . They can be truly dangerous. For some reason- God allows them to be. There is risk in trusting God. There are few guarantees.

But- today, as I look back at my vacation pictures… I wonder- how many guarantees do we really need- beyond this one:

Matthew 17:20 (New International Version)
He replied, “Because you have so little faith. I tell you the truth, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there’ and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you.”

Are you standing at the edge of a waterfall of faith? Is fear keeping you there? Are you watching as others leap into the deep and are lifted up as God catches them, jump after jump? Stop standing there.  Stop going tot he edge and chickening out. Plug your nose if you have to… but do it-  JUMP!

The risk is worth the taking:)

PS- yes- the terribly unflattering jumper in the pic? that’s really me…on my second jump-caught by my college boy :)

The coffee had not kicked in.  My eyes were drooping and  my stomach growled.  But, when the music started, those things didn’t matter. Together- nearly 5,000 Moms started singing.  An incredible sound.  We sang imperfectly.. in pitch and in something entirely DIFFERENT from pitch. (that would be ME) Some knew the words- others needed the screens to help us sing.  Some had hands raised, some swayed, some danced, some quietly standing- but each but each one entering into a place of worship.  Together.   All colors all backgrounds, all different experiences that led us here-  We focused on God… not the kids.. not our chaotic lives or the pain we live with.  Our voices lifted up and pulled our eyes to a new perspective,  a focus on God.

Just when I thought my heart was full…the band started playing the quiet and comforting song:  Amazing Grace.  That’s when something happened. It was no longer, just “singing”.  I listened.  I heard the voices and hearts of nearly 5,000 imperfect and messy and complicated mom’s that were being filled with the grace that God was pouring out.  It was no longer SINGING about grace- it was HEARING grace, in action.

A simple definition of Grace- is when we receive the opposite of what we deserve- I for sure- do not deserve a special experience with God- but he gave me one.  And I believe he offered one to each mom in that room. And offers one to each of us no matter where we are. he longs to have us experience his grace.

What a way to start my day.  Here are a few of the faces of MOPS- in worship:

I hope you’ll check out the flickr group pics... so you can see what convention is like… from the inside out…and maybe- next year- you’ll join us for MOPS International Convention.. and share in the experience that God is already planning.

Make sure and check the MOPS Convention Blog- to read Mom’s stories of their experiences at this years Convention- Live blogging- from Dallas Texas! Also make sure and check out the flickr group- you can see all the crazy and wonderful things happening in Dallas RIGHT now! Make sure and click the videos too- for a taste of the event!

Bad things happen when I’m in a rush. I KNOW this. I should have learned from a series of rush- induced incidents I’ve already endured. (The great brownie wound of Christmas, 2004 was a classic and painful lesson) Apparently, I haven’t quite caught on. Because yesterday I learned it anew.

I’d been packing and cleaning and emailing, printing and prepping all day to leave for MOPS Convention.….  I looked at the clock I realized, that if I didn’t get dressed immediately- I’d be driving the college boy to class in my jammies.. since his class starts at 6:00 p.m. That wasn’t an option I (Nor he-) wanted to take.

I ran upstairs, tore off my jammies and grabbed a bra- it’s a crazy, criss-cross backed bionic model (obviously designed by a man) -  I have to put my head through it, then wiggle around until I get it on right.. finally fastening it in the back. (A feat of circus performer talent.) I admit- It’s a bit too much for “in a rush dressing” but, it was the only one I could find. (On my bedroom floor- hmmm I better clean that up before I leave- who am I kidding?  if i clean it up it will get dirty before I come home- I’ll leave it.) Again: I should have known better. Mid- wiggle- I heard what could be described as a whip-cracking sound and then felt a sharp sting on my right cheek.

“Wha?” I grabbed my cheek- and checked for blood. Whew. None. I looked for sling-shot pellets meant for a raccoon. (My son The College Boy seems to believe it’s his job to rid the neighborhood of vermin) Nada. I looked around for a swarm of bees..attacking me in my underwear.. nothing. I looked for a rogue 6 year old with a bull whip (as a mom of boys- I check for anything) . Nope. It took me a full minute to realize I hadn’t been shot at or whipped or stung while standing in my underwear in my own bathroom. I suddenly noticed that one breast felt very– ummmmm “free”. That’s when I realized the bra strap had snapped,and had smacked me in the cheek.

So- I now have a nice little red (beauty?) mark on my right cheek.  I’m hoping I’ll be able to cover it with makeup.  Otherwise? I’ll just tell people I had a yoga accident.  (plausible if I actually DID yoga….but it’s easier to explain than an exploding bra) Oh- and no worries- I picked up a new, less than bionic and easier to put on bra for the trip— I’d hate to have another exploding bra incident at the airport or something…gives homeland security an whole new meaning…

Looks like this trip is gonna be an ADVENTURE!

Make sure and stop by the MOPS Convention Blog to see what happens as thousands of Moms take over Dallas!

PS- yeah- no pics to go with this post..it’s NOT that kind of blog:P

Shoes- Check. (Let’s hope I did better than last year in this arena)

Black pants- Check (after 6 days of searching every store in Michigan for pants that don’t make me look like a buffalo in drag from behind..)  (well thats only kind of a CHECK…I finally gave up looking in the three-way mirrors.. funny how little I mind my backside if I don’t LOOK at it…)
527 tops of which, I will wear exactly: 5.  Check (I never know what I’ll FEEL like wearing- so I need to bring options.. I need to wear my purple MOPS Polo when “on duty” so the actual times for wearing my “options” will be minimal…)

Laptop and enough electronic cords, chargers and devices to power a third world country- Check. (a girl’s got to stay connected for pete’s sake.)

Knitting that I know I will have no time to work on- check. (ok- so MAYBE on the plane…)

Name tag- Check (For once I didn’t even have to look for it.. someone told me to keep it on the fridge with the magnetic backing- works like a charm!)

Breakfast bars and instant coffee (gross- I know) in case of dire caffeine and calorie emergency- check. (I might pick up some chocolate covered espresso beans to replace the instant coffee– starbucks has them- the calories would be worth the taste and caffeine:)

Shemergency kit- cause it should have everything I may have forgotten- Check.

My To Do list is shrinking - and my excitement is growing … I wonder what it will be like?  I wonder what God will say to my heart while I’m there?  I wonder what weird things my hair will do in the Dallas heat?  I wonder how much laundry will accumulate in my 5 day absense?  I wonder how my 4 guys will survive on Banquet Chicken and Velveeta Shells and cheese, and pizza carry-out?  I’m about to find out all the answers in T-minus 20 hours…  the final countdown has begun!

BIG NEWS!  I’ve been asked to “live blog”  from the convention- so if you want to know the scoop and see what MOPS convention is really like- make sure and watch the MOPS International Convention Blog for updates!

Dear Lord- I pray that you’d prepare my heart and the hearts of the thousands of Moms who are preparing to come and be refreshed and challenged at MOPS Convention- I pray that you’d be with the MOPS Leadership team- the speakers and families– Most of all- I pray we see you in everything at convention- I love you lord- amen.

My hands trembled just a bit as I buttoned the pink silk blouse.  I felt like a busty- rebel.  For a nursing mom- DRY-CLEAN ONLY was not just risky– it was downright DANGEROUS.  (Just how dangerous I was about to find out. The Hard way.) This day was special. I was going to a MOPS event, just over the state line. (A regional event in Toledo- Ohio) I was looking forward to entire day devoted to building up MOM’S. That’s ME!  It was within driving distance and more importantly, within the range of security for a nursing mom.  (Just over an hour from home.)  A Mom’s day out- a Mom’s day of refreshment..  The first since my second child had been born.. I needed it– BAD. I’d been planning and pumping extra milk for days.  But, now?  I was nearly ready.

I stepped back to take a look at the over-all effect.  “Not too bad”  I said to myself.  Black dress pants.. pumps… pink silk blouse, full make-up AND hair  both washed and styled on the same day (*gasp* amazing…I know!). I grinned at myself in the mirror.  I double checked that breast-pads were in place and well secured and hidden in my NON-NURSING BRA.  (… a bra without flaps– this was truly a big day out..) I made sure I had an extra set in my purse.

I checked my watch, “Just enough time, for one more nursing before I leave.”  I grinned at my preparedness.  For a nursing mom- “empty before leaving the house” is just as important as for a mom getting a potty-training toddler into the car for a long ride..

I tiptoed into the baby’s room sat down in “our” chair and we both enjoyed one more for the road….quiet early morning nursings were some of my favorite times.   When we were done- I took him in to a sleepy daddy, I kissed them both.. then went to the kitchen to go over my list one more time.

1) Pumped Milk in freezer- check.

2) Formula and bottles on the counter in case of emergency- check.

3) Diapers- clothes and necessary baby supplies phone numbers and instructions - out and visible so daddy could find them even if he were truly..blind.. check.

4) Cell phone charged and ready.. check.  (this was an old school cell phone- about the size and weight of my current laptop.. It’s been a while)

I was as ready as possible.

Time to go.  I felt a twinge of sadness as I pulled out of the driveway. I headed over to meet my girlfriends - and we drove on together.  Guilt and giddiness fought for control of my postpartum emotions as we crossed the state line. Giddiness won. I was out for petes sake!

We arrived on time.. (something rare for a groups of nursing moms) We took our seats- and enjoyed the entire day.  There were laughs… there were happy tears as I heard things that reminded me how much I love being a mom… and a few happy tears of relief as learned I wasn’t “the only one”.

The day offered up everything I’d hoped for, and needed.  Fun- encouragement-something to challenege me and make me think,  girlfriend time and mommy time.  I missed my guys- but was relieved that everything went so well.  My check-in calls (oh, probably enough of them billed one minute at a time..to fund the current economic crisis relief plan…) revealed that the frozen milk supply was holding out.. and the diapers were too. Added bonus- I didn’t hear crying in the background. (much).  SCORE.

When my girlfriend asked if I wanted to stop on the way home to eat… I should have known I was pressing my luck.  But- I was having sooo much fun….. and I had everything “covered” with my preparedness…and things were well at home…so I figured, “why not?”

There was one thing I hadn’t counted on.. A newborn baby crying at the restaurant.. and the power of milk-let-down on a pink silk blouse.  The baby’s cry sounded like “Danger, Danger Will Robinson!” But, it was too late. My milk let down like a bad levy.

HELLO.  DRY CLEAN ONLY?  More like GARBAGE ONLY.  There were not enough extra breast pads in North America to soak up that mess. When that tiny baby started to cry– my Mom-ness kicked into overdrive. In record time- I drenched the entire front of my blouse, which- promptly turned see through.  I was now busty- (a bonus to nursing)  and see through-    OOPSY.  Not the look I was going for.

I ran into the bathroom- “”GREAT.. no papertowel”  Save the trees, but soak the moms” I thought to myself..I  aimed the hand dryer down my blouse in an attempt to dry up the mess.. it didn’t exactly work.  I made powdered milk.  Yuk.I hadn’t planned for this.  I didn’t know what to do… My tears flowed just a little slower than the milk.

The moms I was with, found a sweater for me in someone’s bag.. and together- they brought it into the bathroom for me. (Friends, don’t let friends, drive soaked.) I slipped it on.  It wasn’t my sassy pink dry-clean only– but it was DRY.  That’s when the silly began.  The other moms had all been there- or somewhere like it in the land of Mom…They rolled out breast feeding horror stories that made us all laugh until breasts weren’t the only thing at risk of leaking….the bathroom turned into an impromptu MOPS Meeting...

It didn’t take long before I felt better.  Soggy- but better.

We drove home still laughing.. and talking and giggling… I wondered if my hubby would notice that I had changed my top.. (He didn’t,of course.) I arrived home to a hungry baby.. and plenty of milk to feed him. (apparently it doesn’t take THAT MUCH milk to soak the front of a silk blouse..)

At the end of the day– I wondered if it was worth the work..

preplanning- and milk pumping- 10 + hours

writing out instructions and worrying in advance- countless hours..

cost of a trashed clearanced pink silk blouse- $24.  (I just couldn’t figure out how to explain a breast milk stain the size of Texas)

A day of encouragement, refreshment and connection with other moms?
Priceless.

If you can make it to a MOPS event in your area– I can’t recommend it enough…it’s worth the time the expense and the preparation.. a hundred times over… - I also recommend wearing wash n wear.. and maybe a raincoat for a blouse if you’re nursing:)…. you won’t be the only one.. that’s for sure:)

PS- if YOU ARE at a MOPS event- or anywhere else for that matter- and see a busty woman in a soaked see-through top—don’t hate on her… offer your sweater or jacket to her– really- she’s probably not holding her own wet-t-shirt contest… she’s just a nursing mom at the end of a mom’s day out….:)

MOPS International Theme: 2008/09

“Keep your eyes forward.. just keep walking.. ignore them– they will leave you alone…Or not.” I chanted as I made my way across the Midway.

I’m glad I couldn’t see myself wandering through the carnival- trying to convince myself to ignore the carnys… because I’m pretty sure I was talking out loud.  To myself. In public.  But please- they were SO LOUD.  I had to do SOMETHING.

“Win the pretty lady a prize, big guy” They shouted…“Hey are you feeling lucky? Lets see if you really are!” ” I can tell you got skillz- come win a prize!” “Come on- you look smart enough to beat this game… give it a shot!” Again and again they tried.

The carnys words bombarded our ears with hundreds of ways to blow WAY too much money at 3 tries for $5 at a time.  The kids got antsy and wanted every 3 foot tall stuffed cartoon character they saw..(which would have to go into the closet immediately upon arrival at home due to nightmare inducing- a 3 foot tall Squidward is creepy!)  I thought we’d save a lot of money by taking a trip to the dollar store on the way home.. but, no one agreed with me.  The whining for “more tries” and “prizes!” ensued.

I won’t even repeat what the one sitting high up on the platform of the dunk tank said.  He was trying to get my hubby riled-up enough to take a few five dollar tries at dunking him. It nearly worked.  Suffice to say it wasn’t nice- something about my tan being from a can. IT WAS NOT. (I’m not bitter though- no ma’am.) If hubby had thrown that softball- it would NOT have been at the little round target. It would have been at the guys head. Ouch.  We moved away from that tank- for the everyone’s safety.

I could not leave the Midway fast enough. If there was an Olympic event for stroller pushing I would have won. I maybe even could have set a world record. It’s been years since that hot summer day.. but I still remember the carnys barking their taunts.

Carnys seem to want relatively few things from passersby- and they are quite adept at getting them. They want:

1) Your money. (for stuff you don’t need but suddenly MUST win- kind of like the last 2 minutes of an e-bay auction)
2) Your attention. (good bad or otherwise-doesn’t seem to matter which)
3) Your time. (funny how much time I can waste arguing with a carny.. not that I’ve EVER done that…:)

I wish the midway was the only place where carnys taunt. (and even then, I wish they had to whisper)  It isn’t. Carny’s are everywhere-on TV (someday’s I feel like it’s a “carny marathon” on TV.. - some days there is more commercial content than actual content!  Carnys everywhere-  at the mall, (no I do not want to try that perfume- I already HAVE a headache from it, thank you very much) at the school- (another committe needs my help NOW.)  Carnys at church and online.. even in my own head…carnys everywhere.. wanting my money, my attention and my time.  Some I can ignore fairly easily- others not so much.  Especially the carny in my head.

The carny in my head barks at me constantly- “You should be taller- prettier.. thinner- funnier…then maybe you’d win a prize..” “where’d you get that TAN? IN A CAN?” “Don’t you think you need THIS, right now It could be YOURS and then you’d feel…..____????” She takes her job of distracting me and stealing my money and time pretty seriously.

I wonder what the world would be like if the carnys (mostly the metaphorical ones) had to take a day off?

Maybe it would be more peaceful… maybe I’d spend my time and money more wisely on the things that really matter and last….. maybe i’d be happier…more content….now that sounds like someplace I’d like to visit. Better yet- someplace I’d like to LIVE.

Since I can’t control ALL the carnys in the universe– I think I’ll work on the one in my head:

“You’re Fired!”

I’m listening to this - instead:

Philippians 4:8 (New International Version)

Finally, brothers, 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.

Sounds like a much better way to spend my time.. don’t ya think?

I’ve come to a realization. I pack like The Jerk. (Not the most appropriate movie- but still, funny:)

Oh sure…My intentions are good. I start out thinking all “minimalist.” I start with the goal of not having to check any luggage. I’m convinced, that with proper planning- everything I need, can fit into the overhead. I plan just enough coordinating outfits to last 5 days. The pieces all mix and match so I SHOULDN’T need a closet full.. in theory.

This is when “The Jerk” really kicks in.. I don’t need much…an outfit for each day- maybe a swimsuit.. undergarments of doom….then I start adding things. I don’t need anything but this pair of black pants. And this pair of back up pants..in case I have a fat day while I’m gone… And a pair of jeans. And maybe this pair because they were on sale.. and a pair of shoes- and this pair too-in case that pair causes injury.. and this pair of jammies- and that pair, just in case I dump coffee down my front in a jetlag enhanced- caffeine withdrawl case of the shakes.

The panic grows. What if I need something I haven’t packed? What if I’m over dressed? *Gasp*- worse yet..what if I’m under-dressed? What if I wake up and HATE everything I brought? (This could actually happen- it happens about once month- that I wake up to find that I hate my entire wardrobe- Hormonal Wardrobe Rejection- I have it.) I end up tossing in 200lbs (way over the current NWA guidelines for luggage weight) of random things I MIGHT need. More pants- a skirt that I know I won’t wear…hose I won’t touch…I’m going to Texas for Pete’s sake. It’ll be hotter than an armadillo’s backside on the beach. (I have no idea whether armadillos in fact, feel hot… but the word “armadillo” is hilarious, so I like to use it adhoc.)

Picture me- only slightly better dressed than Steve Martin..not with pants around my ankles and robe flapping in the breeze.. but in my comfy matching cute purple sweats… tossing in just ONE MORE THING I MIGHT NEED… and then another.. and another… JUST IN CASE.

And that’s JUST the actual suitcase.. we will not even discuss my magical and necessary bag of how not to be bored, because boredom is the enemy - carry-on bag… with knitting—and books and laptop and ipod and e-reader…and cell phone and travel docs…….. and.. and.. and.. I’m gonna need a golf cart just to make it through the airport. Does a golf cart count as a theme park ride? It might in this case:P

All this to say— I’ve started packing for MOPS Convention…. So- Are You going?

Let me know if you are—(throught comment or email- see the sidebar) I’d love a chance to meet blog readers especially MOPS Moms! I’ll be easy enough to spot- the red(ish) head with 42 bags of minimally packed stuff— shopping in the hotel for the ONE thing I forgot. (probably underwear, or something even more embarrassing.)

Although– since I read this during devotions this morning… maybe I won’t feel the need to pack QUITE so much:)

Do Not Worry

28“And why do you worry about clothes? See how the lilies of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. 29Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. 30If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you, O you of little faith? 31So do not worry, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ 32For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. 33But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. 34Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.

Funnel cakes with powdered sugar just melting into the still hot grease.  Giant warm elephant ears: crispy cinnamon goodness.  Hot dogs- the fresh buns perfectly steamed with condiments dripping from each end. French fries, crispy, hot and salted.  An entire rainbow of cotton candy, freshly spun like silk.  Sweetly salty and spicy cinnamon roasted almonds in a paper cone to warm my hands.. the scents and flavors made my head swim.  My mouth watered wanting some of everything. Who was I to argue?

Since I, “don’t do, rides.” I spent most of my time wandering around- tasting a bite of this and a bite of that. Even at the rate of a bite here and there-it didn’t take long for my stomach to rebel.  I started to feel full.. then  overfull.. then just plain sick.  I wanted to put on my comfy sweats and lie down right there in the middle of the carnival.  (I do enough to humiliate my kids in public merely by existing… I doubted this would be acceptable.)  Instead, I suffered through. I chided myself “Never again.. I will never again eat so much junk that I feel like this”… even while saying it-I knew it  wasn’t true.

I went home- skipped “dinner” (who needs dinner when you’re full to the gills with junk food?) and went to bed.  The next day I felt better- albeit groggy from the sugar, salt and grease hang-over.  “Never again” I again resolved.  But when I tried to decide what I wanted to eat that day..” funnel cakes “were all I could think of.  After a nights recovery- even my stomach seemed to agree.  Besides— funnel cakes with fruit could be a breakfast item.. for sure.

Funny how a little, turns into a lot, turns into too much, turns into: SICK.   Is it just fair -style junk food that does this?  Not for me… for me it’s sometimes an enthralling fiction.. not trashy but maybe just edgy enough to keep me from being interested in “eating” something better for my brain.  Or magazines full of pretty clothes and recipes and diets that make me feel hungry and fat at the same time… or TV shows that hook me in- even though you know they are an HD version of funnel cakes for your brain….

A few bites here and there are probably ok… but if that’s what I’m feasting on… all day long.. a bite of this and snack of that.. I end up as sick as if I’d had funnel cakes breakfast lunch and dinner.  My perceptions become distended like my over-full tummy.  I feel less satisfied with my life and my looks….I feel sick.

Today- I’m not feasting on junk-food.. not of the greasy, salty, sweet fair food-type or the junk food for the brain type… how bout you????

I think I’ll try something a little more healthy.

Jesus answered, “It is written: ‘Man does not live on bread alone, but on every word that comes from the mouth of God.”

MOPS International Convention is coming up in just days now… I’m prayerfully getting ready for the adventure that awaits me….. how bout you????