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Hand Raisers

I don’t know what’s happened to me over the last couple of years, but I’ve become a “Hand Raiser.” “Hand Raisers” used to make me very uncomfortable. In fact, if while in church, I saw someone raise their hands, I would think terrible, judgmental things about them.

“They are just doing that for show.”

“They shouldn’t do that. It’s distracting to everyone else.”

Also, hand raising seemed terribly unnatural to me. I guess I thought if I was going to somehow add something to my worship that involved by body, it might be more like kneeling or something. Why hands?

Then, it happened. One very normal Sunday, I felt this urge to raise my hands during a song. No one around me was raising their hands, I just wanted to. I DID NOT. In fact, I was so taken aback, I jammed those babies deep into my pockets.

Then the next week, it happened again. I wanted to raise my hands, but this time, I really sensed the Lord WANTED me to do it. I DID NOT. I ignored this very gentle prompting, chalked it up to too much salsa, and went my merry way.

The next week, the prompting was back, this time with a question. “Why won’t you do this for me?” I darted back my answer, “Because Lord, it’s TOO embarrasing. No one else is doing it, AND my arms are SO long and awkward, I’ll look like a total idiot.”

This is true. My arms are long and to this day there is nothing natural looking about raising them… So, I DID NOT raise my hands, and they remained firmly planted by my side.

This continued for many long and agonizing weeks, until I finally confessed to Ben my dilemma. By this point it had become a very real point of obedience for me. I was clearly being asked to do it and I was clearly disobeying week after week. I was unwilling to make myself look “stupid,” for Jesus.

Ben was willing to help, so he promised if I felt like God was asking me to do it the following week, he would do it too. (He’s so awesome.) So anyway, of course - wouldn’t you know, the graphic behind the words to the worship music was a picture of two hands stretching toward the sky. I looked at him and he looked at me. It was clear. My hands HAD to go up. He grabbed my hand and lifted it up for me.

That was a real break through for me. Still, I don’t see all that many people raising their hands in church, although I’ve noticed more since I’ve joined the ranks. After obeying in such a teeny tiny way, God has given me such a different heart about singing in worship to Him. I feel a freedom from self conciousness that is wonderful.

It has led to a few other embarrasing moments though. Like the other day, for example. I was running (AUGH) and listening to a song by Sara Groves. I got so into the music and thinking about the goodness of God, I realized my hands were starting to go up - WHILE I WAS RUNNING DOWN A VERY BUSY STREET.

I put them down, quickly.

(Oh Lord, please, don’t ask me to become the crazy lady who runs with her hands up in the air. Yours sincerely, Jess) 

 

Pause

We pause this otherwise extremely exciting and inspiring blog, (ha ha)  for a day of vomit duty. Oh the joy…

Some of you know, I have added something different, difficult, terrible, wonderful, painful, fulfilling, and CRAZY to my life over these last few weeks. It’s called RUNNING.

I hate running. Everything about it feels wrong to me. 2 seconds in and my body and mind are both screaming, “STOP THIS!!” Poor Ben has become my personal trainer, and I’m just praying he can stick with me. I plead and whine each and every day about going.

At first I hated every minute of it, now I just hate nearly every minute of it. (Confession: I did kind of enjoy it this weekend for the first time…) I think I’m making progress.

Here’s the thing though. I have NO will power. I’ve never succeeded in making myself do something I didn’t want to do - EVER (except giving birth and that kinda doesn’t count.) Unfortunately for me, I’m sort of good at enough things that I’ve just gotten by all these years.

It’s gotten to the point where I hesitate to set ANY sort of goal for myself because I just figure I’ll never accomplish it anyway. “I guess I’ll just be average…” But now, in my 30’s, I’m so desperate to grow spiritually, emotionally, and even physically, I’m willing to put myself through some pain.

Becoming someone who exercises regularly isn’t an end in and of itself. I just feel like if I can experience success in this, I might just set another goal, and then another, and then another.

Anyway, here’s the REAL question. I’ve discovered I can run if I listen to my IPOD REALLY, REALLY loudly - I’m talking insanely loud. I’m talking so loud most people inside their houses, vacuuming, can probably hear me coming a mile away. There’s just something about having Sting screaming in my ear that keeps me going. So which is it?

My hearing or running in a 5K at the end of the summer?

Lord,

Did you know that the couple next door just put THEIR house up for sale today? Just checking because, THAT DOESN’T SEEM LIKE A GOOD THING.. to me. I’m sure you know better. I mean, I know you know better. Umm… yeah… just checking because I’m kind of FREAKING OUT about it.

Your very peaceful and trusting daughter,

Jess

I’m saying goodbye to my short hair and beginning the long, endlessly terrifying, shaggy-headed, journey of growing my hair back out - for my daughter. I finally figured out why she hates my short hair so much. (Remember when she cried for a few HOURS the day I got it chopped from middle of my back to middle of my ear?)

Here’s how my detective skills played themselves out…

Several times over the last few months, while I’m tucking her in, H5 has begun to cry about being seperated from me eventually. She is terrified that I’m going to die - which I am, so it’s been hard to bring the total relief and comfort she is looking for. All I can tell her is that I feel great and that I don’t think I’m going to die soon, but that we need to trust in Jesus’ promise of eternity. We’ve had some great talks, and some real bonding has taken place.

(Pssst… what does this have to do with hair Jess? I’m getting there…)

Tonight, as I’m tucking her in, I see the tears coming and I say, “Babe…what’s wrong. Are you worried about me again?”

“Yes. (sniff, sniff) Would you please start using Mary Kay so your wrinkles get better?”

“What?”

silence…then it hits me like a ton of bricks. When H5 looks at me with my short hair, and my 33 year old face, she sees - OLD - and she is scared.

It makes sense. She constantly sees me side by side with 18-22 year olds. I can see the way her mind is working…

“Hey, there’s my student buddy Jo-Anna. Long, wavy, hair - very cool nose piercing - and very cute dimples. And standing there next to her is mom. Oh mom, her hair looks different. It looks, old. And where are her dimples? All she has are funny looking line thingys. She looks different. She looks… old.”

Very stiff competition I must say. But it’s true - my haircut is a “Mommy Haircut” and my skin is beginning to show it’s age a little more.

What’s a mom to do? Well, I’m not running from age, but I will concede to growing my hair out again, if only for my girl. Perhaps it will calm her in some way, as long as I make sure she’s always BEHIND me! I can’t do a thing about the wrinkles - but maybe if I grow my bangs long enough…

So, I’ll be sure to post all the hideous in-between looks I’m about to face along the way - NOT!!

Precious

This my son’s hand in mine. He’s not my favorite - because I don’t have favorites - but he is my favorite BOY on the face of the earth. Of all the kids, he and I are the most similar. I know he’s my son, but having two beautiful girls who don’t look all that much like me, I know God is creative - very creative. It’s God’s special gift to me that T4 and I “get” each other in many, many, wordless ways.

A very cool friend, David, came over for dinner and a photoshoot last night. It was a windy day, but we got a few great shots. Here’s a couple of my favorites…

We are such geeks!

My baby girl…

Would you look at that form???

I think these two are birdwatching. They both look very thoughtful though I must say…

That’s a wrap.

Giggles

Well, thanks for the sweet compliments on the house. If you haven’t checked out the sites, have a look if you are the curious type. I am - I love driving around at night and looking in people’s windows. Nothing sinister - I just like to check out their furniture, etc.

Here are the two links:

http://www.fsbomad.com/details.asp?ID=12692

or our home’s little blog.

www.6006raymond.wordpress.com

But I have to say… in order for me to get the house looking that neat, a lot of things had to give this weekend. (Here’s the giggle part…)

1. My son went to church without underpants on.

2. None of the kids brushed their teeth all weekend.

3. The humongous pile of “where do these things go? well, just shove them over here for now while I take the picture,” traveled from room to room while I shot the photos. Said pile is now comfortably strewn all around the house again.

Here we go…

Check us out. We are officially FOR SALE BY OWNER!!

http://www.fsbomad.com/details.asp?ID=12692

or our home’s little blog.

www.6006raymond.wordpress.com

Whoops - No Camera!

Today the fam headed to our local municipal airport to try and see a few airplanes take off and land. It was a very blustery day which meant there wasn’t much going on. We toured around a bit looking at some cool maps and photos when a man asked if we’d like to have a look at his bi-plane located in a hanger down the road. It looked just like the one in this picture. Of course, I didn’t have my camera with me. Shucks.

What a neat experience. This guy is a professional acrobat airplane guy. I know I’m not saying that correctly, but he’s the guy who does the cool rolls and flips and stuff at air shows. His plane was beautiful and the kids got a chance to sit inside and make the wings and tail move around. VERY COOL!!

A great morning, thanks to the kindness of a stranger!

H5 is having a very hard time going to kindergarten these days. She’s had a great year, she loves her teacher, she has friends… so I kind of don’t get the hysterics. If I’m the one driving her to school, she’s still resistant, but OK. If Daddy is driving her to school, it’s a nightmare. She attaches herself to my leg and screams, “I want you, I want you,” over and over and over.

Anyone have any thoughts about these end of the school year blues?
PS: In case any of you live on my street, her father was not trying to kidnap her this morning when you saw him trying to get her in the car while she was screaming, “Mommy, Mommy, Mommy.” He was trying to take his beloved daughter to school.  

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