This Reminds Me

Archive for the ‘Faith’ Category

I’ve never been patient.

I’m not proud of being impatient.  I’m not looking for a dozen friends to reassure me, “Oh, now, I saw you be patient when…..”   It’s just the way I am.  Though I usually hide it better than I’ve hidden it the last few hot, cloying weeks of summer.

Is it the really heat that’s sucking the life out of me?  Or the humidity?  Or being 54 years old?  Other than financially, summer is my least-stressed time of year.  I don’t cook much.  I don’t rush to fix breakfasts in the morning, or race to fix dinner in the evening.  There’s no child in after-school care anxiously awaiting my arrival.  I’m not in a frenzy to grab Chick-Fil-A and  to make it to church Wednesday night.  I still do laundry daily, but there’s less of it.  Nobody needs an emergency trip to Wal-mart to finish a project.  Yet I find myself less and less patient when I get home and find a mess in the den, or unwashed dishes, or a dozen pairs of cast-off shoes in the entryway.

I always think – and now too often say – “Why have you left a mess?  Didn’t I tell you what to do?  Didn’t I write it down for you?  You’re my child.  Don’t you have any better sense than this?”

I listen to K-Love on the drive to and from the bus stop (and sometimes on the bus, thanks to the iPhone app) not because I am a “good person.”  I’m not a “good person.”  Believe me, I know.  I listen to contemporary Christian music because it helps center me.   Worshiping the one true God of the universe puts my day in perspective.

The other morning, the DJ was reading from the book of James, which is my favorite.  I don’t need a theology degree to understand James.    “Take note of this.  Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry.” Hmmm.

And then I thought – God is probably looking at me every evening thinking, “Why have you left a mess?  Didn’t I tell you what to do?  Didn’t I write it down for you?  You’re my child.  Don’t you have any better sense than this?”

James also tells me “…to be patient then.. until the Lord’s coming.”

That could be tonight, or tomorrow – when I’m tripping over the pile of flip-flops by the front door.

Sigh.

Okay.  Tomorrow, I’ll give this patience thing one more try.

Let’s hope I learn it quickly.

This is my youngest child with her three older sisters.

She was asleep when she became an American citizen – as the wheels of this homeward-bound plane touched down in Dallas.   We had already paid about $1,500 in immigration fees, plus completed a mountain of paperwork including highly-scrutinized documents attesting to our ability to support her and provide her health care.  We did not stuff her in a suitcase to sneak her through Customs, or attempt to brand her a “co-citizen” and therefore claim no rules – or fees – applied.

Went to sleep Russian and awoke American

We patiently navigated DFW Immigration to have that all-important IR-4 stamp affixed to her Russian passport.

Her Certificate of Citizenship arrived in the mail a few weeks later.  I’d never seen one before.  Wish I could show you this large, impressive document, but copying it is against the law.  Fingering her Certificate of Citizenship both weakens and inspires me, much like I felt as a senior in high school when I gaped at the real Constitution and Declaration of Independence.  I’d won an essay contest with a prize being a trip to Washington, D.C.   I don’t cry easily.  But I cried in the National Archives as I peered down through the thick walls of protective glass at the two most important documents in our nation’s history.

With her certificate in hand, Keith waited in interminable lines to secure  Julia’s Social Security card.  Her future earnings will be taxed.

Once we had the Social Security card, we braved the Post Office to secure the final “say” in all items authentication – her American passport.   We had to send off the original Certificate of Citizenship to do so.  I sweat bullets the 14 weeks before her passport arrived, fearing some harm would come to that certificate.  None did.  It’s in our safety deposit box now – with other important papers – to be given to her later.  We also invested $350 to have her Russian birth certificate recorded in Texas – a “Recognition of Foreign Decree” – so she can get birth certificates from the state when she needs them.  Julia is anything but an “undocumented immigrant.”

Today my youngest child has all the rights and privileges her American-born sisters enjoy, save one.  She can’t be President.

She also has all the responsibilities of her American-born sisters.  She’ll pay taxes.  She’ll vote.  She’ll obey the laws.  When she starts driving, she’ll have a license.  And proof of insurance.

Because she is an American.

And today especially – I thank God for that.

Forgive me, (it’s) Father(‘s Day), for I have sinned.  It’s been two weeks since my last blog.

The Woodworth summer has – to date – been a learning experience.

Keith is learning more about WordPress and has added “Recipes” and Library”  tabs to the top nav of This Reminds Me.  Very cool!  But the weather is not.  I am learning that by the time I drag off the bus in the evening, the heat has sucked the life right out of me and anything above “maintain” is an effort.  Watch for more content on those tabs soon.  Or at least as soon as I stop sweating.

Hannah continues to learn cake decorating, but kept it simple today for her daddy – a chocolate cake w/cow sprinkles and a side message of “From #3.”

When Keith stumbles over one of the girls’ names while hollering instruction, he often resorts to numbers.  Hannah is #3.  I do what my mom always did – just start hollering in order and stop when I hit the right one.  Julia is often designated the exotic-sounding RachLoHanJu.

Lois continues to learn/study Latin for the national competition in Fargo next month.  Yes, Latin.  Yes, Fargo, North Dakota.

Keith and I want her to watch the movie so she’ll know what to expect in Fargo, eh?

Lois is also learning to drive – taught by her (sainted) father.  He also taught Rachel, but says Hannah is learning at a school.  And Julia the Daredevil?  No driving until she’s at least 30.

We all had a good time learning about “Joseph in Egypt”  at Vacation Bible School (VBS) last week.

The Egyptians formerly known as Lois and Rachel worked 3rd & 4th grade VBS….

…which, coincidentally, their favorite princess was attending.

Hannah learned she liked working with Younger 4′s – the same age she was when we joined the church. Her teacher then – Ms. Sandra (kneeling) – also worked the Younger 4′s in VBS.  We shared hearty chuckles over preschooler Hannah licking the hand rail of the staircase, etc.

Rachel is learning Economics in an online summer school class.  Yesterday, she learned a real economic lesson, as evidenced by our nearly-simultaneous Facebook posts.

The lesson:  It is expensive to be completing a legal U-turn when a speeder behind you is swerving into oncoming traffic.

Our Sunday School classes always take prayer requests.  After church today, Rachel asked Julia, “Did you pray for me today and thank God I wasn’t hurt in the accident?”  Julia looked at her and said, “No.  You’re not even dead.”

Lesson learned:  Don’t ask unless you want to know.

I learned 19 years ago that I was married to best father ever.

Happy Father’s Day, Keith.  Let’s hope we survive the next decade or two of lessons.  xoxoxo

Our church’s youth choir led us in worship today.  I am very partial to three of the four altos on the right.

(l-r)  Allison, Bailey, Katie, Kyle, Joey, Lois, Rachel, Brooke (Lois’ best friend) and Hannah

And they sang a capella – the way I learned to sing.  In fact, the congregation sang “Trust and Obey,” which – when I was a child – we sang every week at the start of Sunday School.  Not that my long-suffering teachers would have thought it made much of an impression on me.

I’m going to be humming all day……