tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-55427822083433547482011-08-28T07:35:37.460-05:00A lighthearted look at the year between my 39th and 40th birthdays.Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11741653665805732354noreply@blogger.comBlogger1081100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542782208343354748.post-2741424786198624592011-02-26T22:44:00.000-06:002011-02-26T22:44:39.413-06:00

It's finally here. My new blog. Crazy to think of having a long-term blog, but I finally decided to take the plunge. Seeking to be more intentionally focused on transformational living in God's kingdom on earth, I have titled the blog "The Unshakeable Kingdom." To find out why, read my first post at www.theunshakeablekingdom.wordpress.com. Be blessed, Christine

Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11741653665805732354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542782208343354748.post-80701897679653722642010-11-30T19:20:00.000-06:002010-11-30T19:20:08.438-06:00

One of our family jokes is that I am the queen. Not in a froo-froo princessy way, but more in a royal-feel-free-to-serve-me way. Lately, though, I have been thinking they may not realize it's actually a joke. It seems every time I turn around my boys are doing nice and kind things for me. Of course they have always done nice and kind things for me, but I really think it's happening more and more

Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11741653665805732354noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542782208343354748.post-76077724472123763912010-11-29T08:51:00.000-06:002010-11-29T08:51:40.493-06:00

My 40th has come and gone, and what a blast it was! I've been asked if I will continue to blog. I might, but if I do, I need a new title for my blog.  I like to have edgy titles for things I write or teach. Titles can capture the imagination of a potential reader/listener. Good titles hint at something unexpected lying just below the surface of the title. Good titles reflect accurately the

Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11741653665805732354noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542782208343354748.post-51737429443233866492010-11-25T14:35:00.001-06:002010-11-25T14:36:23.330-06:00

Well, here it is. My birthday. I'm finally 40. Woot! Woot! To celebrate I asked my family if we could do a whole lot of nothing today. No studying. No housework. No cooking. No fuss. Just me hanging out with the three most beloved individuals in my life. Lovely. Of course there were gifts. From Boy 1 a full-on, top-down housecleaning. A very clever card in which in which he gave me a lesson in

Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11741653665805732354noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542782208343354748.post-34626418872640486832010-11-24T08:03:00.000-06:002010-11-24T08:03:39.356-06:00

Tomorrow is the big day, the mother of all birthdays, the culmination of this blog: My 40th Birthday!! You may recall that I started this blog in an effort not to let my big birthday be stolen from me. Being several years younger than most of the people I spend most of my time with, milestone after milestone comes long after they have come for my "older" friends. Consequently, by the time I get

Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11741653665805732354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542782208343354748.post-63941583037584569752010-11-17T12:28:00.000-06:002010-11-17T12:28:16.408-06:00

A little more than 10 years ago Boy 2 entered this world with a gusto that flows far more than it ebbs. At the age of 3, when asked who he was, he stood upon the chair he was in, raised his hands to the sky and proclaimed, "I am KING of the universe!!" Of course, his dad and I have helped him better understand his place in the universe, but his great passion for living has not diminished. More

Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11741653665805732354noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542782208343354748.post-14214626165490395212010-11-11T19:46:00.000-06:002010-11-11T19:46:24.107-06:00

For 14 of my nearly 40 years I have been blessed by my firstborn, Boy 1. From the very beginning Boy 1 has made his unique personality known: in utero snapshots often showed him strumming his chin as if deep in thought. A teacher once likened him to still waters that run deep and time outs never worked for he would simply sit in a corner and ponder. A tender and compassionate heart pairs itself

Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11741653665805732354noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542782208343354748.post-86380338022091480282010-11-10T16:40:00.000-06:002010-11-10T16:40:47.401-06:00

Anytime I think about what I am grateful for, my first thoughts fly to my boys. One of those boys is my husband of 18.5 years. I first met Mark 20 years ago this December. I was in my junior year in college, and he was a high school teacher. A mutual friend, David, convinced me to attend the book review Mark was giving at my college's library. I did not expect much from this book review, but I

Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11741653665805732354noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542782208343354748.post-62311414276797772252010-11-09T19:20:00.001-06:002010-11-09T19:20:46.254-06:00

I've said for many years that I love having my birthday fall on Thanksgiving Day. Knowing the whole nation is giving thanks on my birthday makes the day even sweeter. I know that 99.9% of the people celebrating Thanksgiving are not giving thanks for me specifically, but it's still nice. So having my birthday of all birthdays fall on Thanksgiving seems appropriate. Therefore, I dedicate the rest

Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11741653665805732354noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542782208343354748.post-72775161235563105542010-10-17T16:17:00.001-05:002010-10-17T16:18:21.266-05:00

I spent the weekend at the World Mission Workshop with 100+ mission-minded college students and the missionaries who were there to teach and mold the young students. There are few things more exhausting than college students interested in missions. One group that is more exhausting, though, are adults who are, were, or were raised as missionaries. Mark and I spent a total of 5 years in Croatia

Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11741653665805732354noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542782208343354748.post-40119664515770903632010-10-09T22:01:00.000-05:002010-10-09T22:01:56.867-05:00

Nearly a year ago, I began this blog as a light-hearted look at the year between my 39th and 40th birthdays. The year has taken some highly unexpected twists and turns, not all of which have been lighthearted; yet I remain committed to loving the experience of turning 40.  To that end I have searched high and lo for a button announcing my new decade. I envisioned a black button with white

Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11741653665805732354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542782208343354748.post-3857858836514975382010-10-06T07:48:00.000-05:002010-10-06T07:48:08.087-05:00

I will be 40 years old next month. Only 50 days away, the anniversary of my birth approaches steadily, and I still have not found my button proclaiming "Finally I'm 40!" As I prepare myself to ring in a new decade, I realize this year's birthday is special for another reason: it is the same day as Thanksgiving! I love it when those two days overlap; it brings joy to know that the entire nation

Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11741653665805732354noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542782208343354748.post-51301480350781875082010-09-29T14:49:00.000-05:002010-09-29T14:49:21.869-05:00

I watched an episode of the new drama Parenthood last night. I thought it would be an enjoyable, if vicarious, commiseration over the profound and absurd of parenting. Parenthood portrays the family lives of the various siblings of the Bravermans. As I watched, I laughed with the mom whose teen daughter communicates primarily through superbly refined eye-rolling, I empathized with the father who

Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11741653665805732354noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542782208343354748.post-65920419098360823822010-09-21T10:11:00.000-05:002010-09-21T10:11:02.201-05:00

The scene: Boy 1, age 14, sits at the desk working studiously on his Latin II assignment. Father sits on a nearby  couch reading. Boy 2, age 10, enters the room from kitchen and approaches Boy 1.Boy 2: (with completely deadpan demeanor) Are you sober?Father: Why would you ask him that? Of course he is sober!Boy 2: Seems appropriate for me to know if my teenage brother is sober. Father: Well that

Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11741653665805732354noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542782208343354748.post-19752314396344679542010-09-18T09:22:00.000-05:002010-09-18T09:22:35.042-05:00

Boy 2's soccer season started this week with practice and the first game. The volunteer coach clearly has his work cut out for him. With his recreational team of 9-13 year olds, Coach B is tasked with challenging the older, experienced players while teaching the younger ones in a way that integrates the fledglings into a cohesive team. Growing up I did not play sports.  My 2nd grade foray into

Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11741653665805732354noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542782208343354748.post-14304082983069601182010-09-09T14:59:00.000-05:002010-09-09T14:59:51.937-05:00

Today I spent 15 minutes looking for the keys I needed to drive Boy 2 to school. Keys I always put in the same place, because I know I won't remember where I put them if I don't. Today I went to work, to physical therapy, then back to work. Today I generated paychecks for employees and set them on my desk to hand to my receptionist. They were still on my desk when she left at noon. Today I

Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11741653665805732354noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542782208343354748.post-35637808060286774762010-09-04T15:59:00.002-05:002010-09-04T16:00:31.586-05:00

Alas! Has it been a month since my last writing? Why yes, yes it has. Just one more thing to blame Matilda for. Who, you ask, is Matilda? Is she a house guest, who despite the fact that both fish and guests smell bad after three days, stayed a whole month? Is she a new addition to your brood of Boy 1, Boy 2, and Wee 1? Is she an imaginary friend? Well, no, she is none of those (though there are

Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11741653665805732354noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542782208343354748.post-5323208859570615012010-08-03T18:42:00.000-05:002010-08-03T18:42:15.679-05:00

For years I have held out hope for the early menopause my mother and grandmother both enjoyed...42 and 38 respectively. Being right in between those ages, I hope to average out the age at which our family's women go through "The Change." Consequently, about 3 years ago I stopped buying the Costco box that would last a whole year. I didn't want to get stuck with a bunch of pads when my time

Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11741653665805732354noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542782208343354748.post-7129411529235965532010-07-27T21:06:00.003-05:002010-07-27T21:09:07.469-05:00

Several weeks ago I found a yoga class that suits me perfectly. A good mix of the lithe and lumbering, I fit somewhere in the middle of the participants. The instructor is a perky, young, aspiring physical therapist who kindly teaches us how to make slight adjustments to our poses which facilitate a deeper stretch or make the pose significantly easier to hold. The class meets at midday on

Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11741653665805732354noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542782208343354748.post-46310489892897631852010-07-17T21:32:00.000-05:002010-07-17T21:32:06.697-05:00

For the better part of three weeks our entire family worked hard and lived in a bit of chaos as our kitchen was renovated. Since then we have been pondering what would serve as an appropriate celebratory meal in our new kitchen. Tonight Boy 2 got tired of pondering and did something about it: he planned, purchased, and prepared a three-course gourmet meal from the land of Redwall. Redwall exists

Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11741653665805732354noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542782208343354748.post-50311352009293146172010-07-09T15:37:00.000-05:002010-07-09T15:37:46.944-05:00

I'm not very good at not getting my hopes up. I like to think that things will work out in just the right way that will result in the best for everyone involved. Sure, I've been more than disappointed on an number of occasions, but until the disappointment I got to enjoy the pleasure to anticipating in hope. When we first learned about my fibromyalgia, I was tremendously hopeful that this would

Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11741653665805732354noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542782208343354748.post-64767992847540437002010-07-07T21:26:00.000-05:002010-07-07T21:26:52.390-05:00

On a recent trip to Target to purchase a birthday gift for Wee 1, a small, metal tea set caught my eye. It was just like the one I had 35+ years ago. Painted white with red and blue flowers, that tea set was a favorite toy. My mother once made me coffee (lots of milk and sugar and an itsy bitsy bit of coffee) in one of the cups. Of course, I hated the coffee, but I loved that tea set. Looking a

Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11741653665805732354noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542782208343354748.post-14682942018323484392010-07-06T08:11:00.000-05:002010-07-06T08:11:14.860-05:00

One of my favorite movies is "Joe vs. the Volcano." Joe lives a bleak existence as a former-firefighting hyperchondriacal advertising library assistant in a rectal probe factory. Pasty under the gray lights, Joe spends all his time and money trying to discover what's wrong with him. Finally he finds a doctor who tells him what he has always known: Joe is dying. In a twist Joe discovers that he is

Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11741653665805732354noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542782208343354748.post-22819999584523820622010-06-26T09:27:00.001-05:002010-06-26T09:42:54.647-05:00

Three and a half years ago we bought the house of our dreams. Five bedrooms, three baths, living room, dining room, den. Hardwood throughout with brick exterior and large backyard. And a MAJOR fixer-upper. We bought the house "as is" and got an amazing deal on it. In addition to needing cosmetic work throughout, the banister for the stairs was missing, the hot water heater near the end of its

Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11741653665805732354noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542782208343354748.post-35706322994838114022010-06-24T08:31:00.000-05:002010-06-24T08:31:58.827-05:00

I am one stubborn chick. I've gotten myself in some mighty pickles over the years, but other times my refusal to give in or give up has saved me much grief. My insistence that I can do anything has pushed me to keep going when I'd really rather have spent a week in bed. About 17 years ago I had a brief conversation with a woman whose 20 year-old daughter had just been diagnosed with a

Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11741653665805732354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542782208343354748.post-41843968462510850632010-06-12T16:36:00.000-05:002010-06-12T16:36:12.958-05:00

The Parker Family loves quotable movies. Movies are most quotable when there are plenty of one-liners, said one-liners can be used in the normal flow of conversation, there is a great accent to emulate, or the movie is known by those around us just enough to get a good laugh from someone without it being cliche.  "Joe vs. the Volcano" is one of our family favorites in this quotable movie genre

Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11741653665805732354noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542782208343354748.post-53160110320112437492010-05-20T07:38:00.000-05:002010-05-20T07:38:31.193-05:00

I realized when I was pregnant for the first time that there are many things in life people will inevitably tell you a bzillion times which you can cognitively know to be true, but which you will not really "get" until much later. Things like, "You think you are tired now..." or, "Just wait, you have now idea just how hard it is until the baby is born," and so on. True statements, but ones which

Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11741653665805732354noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542782208343354748.post-78781927744582954752010-05-17T21:36:00.000-05:002010-05-17T21:36:19.208-05:00

Nearly every Sunday of the past 26 years I have enjoyed the feast of the Lord's Supper. Being a person who thrives on interaction, I am always looking for the communion of the Lord's Supper. That is to say, ways in which to commune with my Christian family through the Lord's Supper. You can imagine how much I love it when we take communion around tables. Or when we serve one another and are able

Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11741653665805732354noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542782208343354748.post-83411257600345254872010-05-12T16:03:00.000-05:002010-05-12T16:03:19.400-05:00

When I began this blog on November 26, 2009, I promised it would be a "light-hearted" look at turning 40. I guaranteed it would not be full of complaints of creaking joints, menopausal menaces, or otherwise irritating medical TMI. A glance through my archives remind of the first man-shirt I bought for Boy 1, the blizzard we barely survived earlier this year, and the realization that Wee 1 is

Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11741653665805732354noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542782208343354748.post-24867686764026275982010-04-30T21:57:00.000-05:002010-04-30T21:57:23.175-05:00

I just finished reviewing every privacy setting in my Facebook account. I also deleted a number of applications, changed my password, and reported some spam invites being sent from my account. It's a strange feeling to have your personal cyber-space invaded; to know that someone managed to get into your account without permission. The damage was fairly innocuous. Some friends got invited to try

Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11741653665805732354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542782208343354748.post-73540783631599008902010-04-29T20:02:00.001-05:002010-04-29T20:03:04.978-05:00

I wrote the following on March 3, 2010: I spent a couple of hours at the hospital tonight with a good friend and her family. Ruth, who taught me everything I know about football, has been chronically and severely ill for as long as I have known her. She is in her 60s and spends most days in extreme pain. Now unable to walk and barely able to stand, Ruth is one of the toughest chicks I know. I

Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11741653665805732354noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542782208343354748.post-78647737971809112452010-04-25T15:55:00.000-05:002010-04-25T15:55:23.966-05:00

Over the past week I have had the honor of sitting by the bedside of a dear friend while she and her family awaited the arrival of her death. It's an odd thing to say, I know. In our cluttered lives we do not leave much room for death. Death happens and we deal with it when it does, but we rarely wait for it. Indeed, we often try to deny its approach or take fantastic measures to ward it off.

Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11741653665805732354noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542782208343354748.post-71560512571175225002010-04-16T13:30:00.000-05:002010-04-16T13:30:09.635-05:00

I spent my morning with a group of young moms at a playground. I remember when I was the young mom with kids to take to the playground during school hours. I'm not old, but I am older, and I don't mind it a bit. I love these young moms. They are fun and interesting and have beautiful kids who range in age from 3 weeks to 4 years old (with a couple of school-age kids as well). I love these moms

Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11741653665805732354noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542782208343354748.post-75632271846061521042010-04-06T20:56:00.000-05:002010-04-06T20:56:59.162-05:00

I recently had a flare-up of a painful stomach problem that began when I was 7 years old. It involves severe pain in my upper left abdomen that lasts for a few hours to a few days. Sometimes the flare-ups happen only once in many years, other times they happen repeatedly for several months. Back in October I experienced the first episode of what would become the worst flare-up ever. Over the

Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11741653665805732354noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542782208343354748.post-6833824840230407132010-03-23T22:24:00.000-05:002010-03-23T22:24:03.741-05:00

Wow, two posts from me in one day...this is an historic day! Seriously though, a friend shared a link where he found good, solid information about the anticipated effects of the new healthcare legislation. I won't pretend the sources are unbiased. (There is no such thing as an unbiased source. Sorry folks.) But they are reliable sources and include The New York Times, Newsweek, and New Yorker

Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11741653665805732354noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542782208343354748.post-88554645385005143302010-03-23T13:21:00.000-05:002010-03-23T13:21:15.962-05:00

I just watched President Obama sign healthcare reform into law. I love watching presidents sign bills. The pomp, the circumstance, the way they use multiple pens. It sends thrills down my spine to watch history happen. My undergraduate degree is in history and political science. One of my favorite subjects was the American constitution, its formation, function, and the intent of its authors. So

Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11741653665805732354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542782208343354748.post-11770498125381901752010-03-16T13:34:00.000-05:002010-03-16T13:34:55.428-05:00

I have the flu. I have spent a lot of time this winter caring for Boy 2 and fighting off all the small viruses I have gotten from him in the process. Otherwise, I don't get really sick very often. I cannot remember the last time I had flu. But, just like riding a bike, it all comes back to you. The fever, the cough, the aches. Even my skin hurts. Most people, I am told, sleep a lot when they

Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11741653665805732354noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542782208343354748.post-81247593181446314482010-03-13T09:33:00.002-06:002010-03-13T09:36:51.933-06:00

I love the way God powerfully invades His creation. Even in those who do not know God, God can be known. The ancient philosopher Seneca once wrote, "Let him [the rich man] compare all that he has with what he still covets, and he is a poor man!" Though a pagan, Seneca's words carry truth for more than mere possessions. When I compare my life with what I still want to accomplish, I feel poor. I

Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11741653665805732354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542782208343354748.post-33276364860684368912010-03-06T10:53:00.000-06:002010-03-06T10:53:24.496-06:00

It's been a week since my last post. At many points in the week I have thought of things I want to write about, but too much stuff got in the way. I confess there was a time when every week was like that. Jam-packed with things to do, meetings to attend, people to host, commitments to keep. About a year ago I came to the end of a journey during which God impressed indelibly on my heart and mind

Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11741653665805732354noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542782208343354748.post-50165699320637884902010-02-26T09:28:00.000-06:002010-02-26T09:28:42.335-06:00

I have a number of friends who just became parents, are about to be parents, or are trying to become parents. As I cleaned the toothpaste spit off of the mirror in the bathroom Boy 2 uses I thought of those friends.  This mirror is about 10 inches higher than the top of Boy 2's head. So I have to wonder, what on earth does he do to get toothpaste spit way up on that mirror. And not just on the

Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11741653665805732354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542782208343354748.post-11172022192605284052010-02-20T18:05:00.000-06:002010-02-20T18:05:24.549-06:00

The weather today is the nicest it's been in months. After the unusually frequent sub-freezing temps and two snowfalls and an ice storm that took a tree out of our front yard, today's balmy 60 degrees beckoned me out of doors. Unwilling to resist the call of the sun and shine, I went for a walk with the family. Out we went on an innocent stroll through the neighborhood. Boy 2 and his friend had

Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11741653665805732354noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542782208343354748.post-37171342347594563242010-02-17T08:30:00.000-06:002010-02-17T08:30:50.560-06:00

To quote a friend: "Just looked at my two sleeping babies....being a mother is so surreal some times. Who am I to be raising kids???" My response? This experience keeps us learning and adjusting our parenting as each individual child grows and shows their changing needs. Boy 1 did not do a group project in his class for academically gifted students. His entire group failed to do it, but for Boy

Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11741653665805732354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542782208343354748.post-13173687268190227172010-02-14T17:50:00.000-06:002010-02-14T17:50:59.707-06:00

My Facebook status for today: Christine Fox Parkerand Mark met in December of 1990, had their first kiss on April 21, 1991, and got married in 1992. Nearly 20 years of happiness! Happy Valentine's Day This status prompted a few college friends/roomies to comment on those days, which prompted some answers from me. In the end I have a lovely trip down memory lane. Mark and I met when during the

Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11741653665805732354noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542782208343354748.post-59118274638070431202010-02-12T19:48:00.000-06:002010-02-12T19:48:55.066-06:00

Boy 2 finally decided that he has enough evidence to conclude there is indeed no Santa Claus. It made for a different kind of Christmas around the Parker Home, but one I think will be treasured in my memory for years to come. In light of the changes in our Christmas tradition, I have sought to protect other important things we do together as a family. Traditions serve as glue in many ways; they

Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11741653665805732354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542782208343354748.post-32971178984296747812010-02-10T08:33:00.000-06:002010-02-10T08:33:09.252-06:00

The problem in Shelby County is so tremendous it has made national news and been featured on prime time news programs. Memphis leads the nation in per capita infant mortality rates. Of course, there are always babies born so ill that there is no hope for life. Grieving family gathers around many of those babies, loving them passionately for the days they do survive and honoring them in their

Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11741653665805732354noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542782208343354748.post-56462288522723361372010-02-08T16:48:00.000-06:002010-02-08T16:48:45.922-06:00

Several weeks ago I blogged about the mania surrounding even the possibility of a light dusting of snow in Memphis. I poked a little fun at myself and my community for our obsessive weather-watching and emergency grocery runs. After nearly 14 years in Memphis I have watched and ridden the it-might-snow roller-coaster enough times to understand all of its ups and downs and to assume, fairly safely

Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11741653665805732354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542782208343354748.post-50681656939934707392010-02-07T17:51:00.000-06:002010-02-07T17:51:07.688-06:00

Friday morning I had a tickle in the back of my throat. Yesterday I could feel the fluid rolling around in my eustachian tubes. Today I feel rotten. But it's just a cold so I went on with my day as planned, taking care not to hug anyone or get too close in conversation. NyQuil Daytime at the ready, I worshiped with my family of God, met with the advisory council I serve, attended a reunion for a

Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11741653665805732354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542782208343354748.post-44439551202217789272010-02-04T23:04:00.000-06:002010-02-04T23:04:28.962-06:00

It's late and I've just finished two hours of commentary reading after having spent about an hour working on a translation. These last few hours of study were a breeze compared the rest of the day which preceded. Nothing catastrophic took place; just a lot of little things that went wrong all throughout the day. A very important recording was inaudible. A repeat attempt resulted in my

Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11741653665805732354noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542782208343354748.post-50339295192751447502010-02-02T20:57:00.000-06:002010-02-02T20:57:35.520-06:00

Sitting contentedly on the floor playing with Wee 1 this morning, I was struck by the memory of something once said to me. Several years ago I met a young woman in the midst of a doctoral program and on her way into professional ministry. She was a brilliant and gifted woman on a track to do very much what I wanted to do. Immediately I liked this newly transplanted to Memphis person. We met

Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11741653665805732354noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542782208343354748.post-47105620699167388442010-01-30T18:42:00.000-06:002010-01-30T18:42:48.334-06:00

After a wonderful day of study and learning yesterday, today has been a fiasco. Despite numerous attempts to work, I have only gotten five verses translated and NO reading done. And it's not because I haven't tried to... Life happened today. Boy 2 needed to play in the snow and ice, so I sat cozy in the living room watching him through the front window (the best stuff was in the front yard).

Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11741653665805732354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542782208343354748.post-91509174531910709972010-01-29T18:03:00.000-06:002010-01-29T18:03:10.592-06:00

How many hours must I read today? Seven?  I love learning. I love days when I can spend nearly all of my time delving into the depths of knowledge. Those days are rare. Most of the time I catch an hour or two here and there. Often it feels like learning in sound bites. But today...today was a day dedicated to the pursuit of understanding.   And to finish all my reading for this seminar in Acts

Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11741653665805732354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542782208343354748.post-74626673155360436832010-01-28T17:41:00.000-06:002010-01-28T17:41:34.509-06:00

I am officially stressed out. I work pretty hard to keep my stress level pretty low. I am very careful to maintain plenty of room in my life for the unexpected. And I can be pretty flexible...I generally roll with the punches and am able to keep the stress that does sneak in from time to time from affecting too much of my life. Today was a grand exception. Today I cried over my children at work

Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11741653665805732354noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542782208343354748.post-34340929236151325982010-01-26T20:27:00.000-06:002010-01-26T20:27:06.793-06:00

At the end of Kairos Outside weekends (see Friday's post if you don't know what Kairos Outside is) around the world our guests are asked two questions: 1.  What did the weekend mean to you? 2.  What are you going to do about it? Our guests do not have to share their answers out loud, though there is an opportunity to do so if they choose. Mostly we want them to contemplate the things they saw,

Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11741653665805732354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542782208343354748.post-76417248780501065702010-01-25T14:52:00.000-06:002010-01-25T14:52:16.847-06:00

If you indulged me last week by reading my long post about Kairos Outside you know I have been gone for three days. If you didn't, you just read the previous sentence and now know... In any case, the weekend ministering to women was marvelous and, of course, I was changed far more than anyone I would have been ministering to. I spent the weekend watching God moving powerfully in individuals,

Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11741653665805732354noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542782208343354748.post-69043503005979329342010-01-21T20:58:00.000-06:002010-01-21T20:58:58.549-06:00

I will be gone over the next few days ministering to women who have loved ones incarcerated. Some of the women who attend this weekend's retreat will already know God, others will not. All of them, however, will know the shame and grief of having a child or spouse or parent in jail. I have served this ministry, West TN Kairos Outside, as a Spiritual Director for many years now and find that it

Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11741653665805732354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542782208343354748.post-6200348148618802872010-01-20T20:37:00.000-06:002010-01-20T20:37:15.040-06:00

Through the course of this blog I have introduced the members of my family and our various quirks and endearing qualities through myriad stories. I have not, however, said much about the smallest member of our family, Wee 1. Wee 1 is the now 6 month-old who stays with us 3 days a week while her mommy and daddy work. She has eyelashes to die for and a smile that will melt your heart. Tremendously

Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11741653665805732354noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542782208343354748.post-12544984322671937392010-01-19T22:14:00.000-06:002010-01-19T22:14:06.966-06:00

We took Boy 1 to tour the high school he will be attending next year. It was an informal open house that offered an opportunity to meet teachers, learn about different academic programs, and see the sights. It's not an impressive building. In fact, it's old, a bit dingy, and has the same kinds of clocks that the brand new schools had when I was in elementary school...it's that old. Despite the

Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11741653665805732354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542782208343354748.post-43428660487743503322010-01-18T19:39:00.000-06:002010-01-18T19:39:45.629-06:00

When the boys were aged 5 and 1 we moved into a cute, but tiny house. I loved this house. It was not my dream house; it had only one bathroom, and the enormous oak trees rained little sticks all over the yard year-round. But it was in this house that Memphis, after having already been here five years, became our home. However, boys do grow. And as they grow they get louder. By the time Boy 1 was

Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11741653665805732354noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542782208343354748.post-27249215075240785862010-01-17T20:39:00.000-06:002010-01-17T20:39:31.100-06:00

I had a houseful of middle school kids from church tonight. It was a great time. Lots of Guitar Hero (I rock on "Eye of the Tiger" vocals), ball in the backyard, and laughing with a few of the parents. But now my brain is shot, and I promised Boy 2 we would watch a movie of his choosing. Sort of a thank you from me for staying out of Boy 1 and his friends' way. So, until tomorrow all I can say

Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11741653665805732354noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542782208343354748.post-89853000326787798182010-01-16T21:29:00.000-06:002010-01-16T21:29:21.368-06:00

This week I completed the form requesting that Boy 1 be allowed to continue on his current public school track into high school next year. He's enrolled in a program uniquely suited to him, but for which we do not live in the right zip code. This requires we request permission for him to continue each year in the same program. I've completed this form eight times before. Each time it has seemed

Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11741653665805732354noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542782208343354748.post-21149725511789461542010-01-15T18:09:00.000-06:002010-01-15T18:09:12.134-06:00

Our family loves musical productions. Boy 2 has practically memorized the soundtrack to Phantom of the Opera and Boy 1 is writing a Requiem. It is just as likely to find us gathered on a Friday night to watch a movie version of a Broadway show as it is to see us viewing a sci-fi or fantasy flick. Just recently we enjoyed Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat. When the boys were younger

Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11741653665805732354noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542782208343354748.post-40375224101532090672010-01-14T20:21:00.001-06:002010-01-14T20:22:18.295-06:00

That test I thought I failed I actually passed. Got a 78, which is okay because I only needed a 70 and it does not affect my grade. That girl who won the battle of wills yesterday, lost today. This week is looking up! TIGFT (Thank God it's Friday tomorrow!) so I don't have too much time left in this week for many more ups and downs.

Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11741653665805732354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542782208343354748.post-69577337213161329722010-01-13T20:22:00.000-06:002010-01-13T20:22:20.757-06:00

For nearly 14 years I have prided myself on being a strong mom. Letting the boys cry themselves to sleep when they were old enough to be able to so that they would learn to sleep on their own. Engaging them in chores and other responsibilities at appropriate ages. Always following through on the consequences I set forth. Limiting TV and video game time and facilitating their independence in doing

Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11741653665805732354noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542782208343354748.post-40832219952195380382010-01-12T10:13:00.000-06:002010-01-12T10:13:31.979-06:00

I forgot to blog yesterday. To be honest, after last week's blizzard I just haven't had anything quite so exciting to write about. But as I listen to Wee 1 wind down from fighting her nap, I will relive a traumatic event that occurred yesterday. I failed (I think) a test yesterday. I am taking a seminar in Acts and had to take a content test on Acts to see if I know enough to work at the

Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11741653665805732354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542782208343354748.post-63507327569465589082010-01-10T21:59:00.000-06:002010-01-10T21:59:14.452-06:00

I used to fret a lot over what ministry I could do. That may be the understatement of the decade, but it's too early to tell for sure. Ministry is my passion. Opportunities to speak God into the lives of people impassions (I don't think that's a word) me. That is to say, it infuses my life with passion. Fifteen years ago I thought that meant organized ministry; teaching adult classes, speaking

Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11741653665805732354noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542782208343354748.post-61026283018126630122010-01-07T16:13:00.000-06:002010-01-07T16:13:17.496-06:00

Well, it did snow...but only barely. I was going to add a picture of it today, but it did not last long enough to get a good one. All area schools were closed except for the Memphis City School District, so my boys were up and out as usual. Boy 2 was duly disappointed. Snow brings him great joy, more even than a day off from school. I snuggled him while he cried a bit this morning, cleansing his

Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11741653665805732354noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542782208343354748.post-53978032332449063842010-01-06T20:35:00.000-06:002010-01-06T20:35:51.459-06:00

As is typical, the forecast for the major snow event has lessened both in severity and possibility over the course of the week. Of course, that did not put a damper on the preparations Memphians make for snow I wrote about yesterday nor on the ever optimistic hopes of our children. It has, however, put a damper on my own dreams of a cozy day at home with no carpool, piano lesson, errands, etc.

Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11741653665805732354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542782208343354748.post-86114175060478686532010-01-05T18:06:00.000-06:002010-01-05T18:06:29.993-06:00

It might snow later this week. In Memphis, the "might" in that phrase is a pretty big one. Snow only comes to Memphis at most once a year, and we are thrilled if an inch of it stays on the ground an entire afternoon. Regardless of how much does, or does not, fall, though, we take our snow very seriously! There is strict protocol all Memphians adhere to when we might get our snow. The first

Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11741653665805732354noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542782208343354748.post-30629391619511964042010-01-04T22:10:00.000-06:002010-01-04T22:10:34.746-06:00

The new graduate school semester started today with a surprising call that my Tuesday class was actually a Monday class. After rushing home to get my books and laptop and to gulp down some lunch, I casually strolled onto campus 15 minutes early. Since the professor for this Tuesday class that actually meets on Mondays is in Germany this week another professor was to stand in his stead and wax

Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11741653665805732354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542782208343354748.post-54416612802359973262010-01-03T14:00:00.000-06:002010-01-03T14:00:28.420-06:00

My wonderful husband just finished a mini-renovation of my home office as a Christmas gift to me. In the sorting and reorganizing of my office things, I came across a Christmas gift he created for me 13 years ago. In 1995 we were living in Croatia and awaiting the birth of Boy 1. Through circumstances beyond our control we had moved only two weeks before Christmas into another apartment, yet

Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11741653665805732354noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542782208343354748.post-26750964108502317032010-01-02T17:30:00.000-06:002010-01-02T17:30:05.397-06:00

I have not been part of the blogging world for very long. Only since my 39th birthday in November of last year. I started my blog on a whim and used a blogger template to get it going thinking I would go back later and pretty it up. I have some friends who have super-pretty blogs. One friend has completely customized her blogspot with photographs she herself has taken, sidebars leading you to

Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11741653665805732354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542782208343354748.post-82381694494029021632010-01-01T12:24:00.002-06:002010-01-01T13:55:44.974-06:00

I never really saw him for the great man he was. By the time I met him he was 70-ish and had been retired for many years, and I knew him primarily as Dr. Jack's brother. He had the persona of a jolly old man who never tired of telling me blonde jokes (which I loved!). He was famous for his jokes and would e-mail really good ones to all his friends. But there was so much more to him than I ever

Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11741653665805732354noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542782208343354748.post-10703786012338399872009-12-30T20:49:00.000-06:002009-12-30T20:49:45.386-06:00

I don't know much about football except what my friend Ruth has taught me. A few years ago, after discovering my dearth of knowledge on the subject, Ruth invited me and my guys to watch the Super Bowl with her and her family. Ruth, an 80-something, God-loving woman who can barely see anymore, proceeded to give me lessons in the art of American football. I learned all kinds of stuff under her

Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11741653665805732354noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542782208343354748.post-89642173418444833822009-12-29T21:49:00.000-06:002009-12-29T21:49:52.314-06:00

After a night of tossing and turning, I finally gave up the bed at 5:44AM (about 2.75 hours earlier than my usual). No longer willing to fight the war in my sinuses for a bit more sleep, I schlepped to the kitchen and made a cup of Starbucks's micro-ground water soluble Via (that's what they call their instant coffee because it's not really instant). Typically Mark is up and has great coffee made

Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11741653665805732354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542782208343354748.post-52281318100877789632009-12-28T21:58:00.001-06:002009-12-28T22:00:07.344-06:00

The destruction began today.Creating a den where growing boys and their friends can hang out and feel independent while not being so isolated as to prevent parents from peeking in on them easily and without giving warning has been our desire for some time now. The perfect spot for just such a den lays at the top of our stairwell and until today was simply a small bedroom. Now with most of the

Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11741653665805732354noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542782208343354748.post-31505542917904465002009-12-27T15:26:00.000-06:002009-12-27T15:26:18.985-06:00

Thirty-six hours into this thing called resting, I have discovered truth for healing. One truly does get well faster if one heeds one's own body's signals for extra rest.  After yesterday's nastiness which kept me in bed all day, I awoke this morning still feeling ill, but as if the viral troops had been dispersed and were no longer attacking only my throat. With the war now being waged on many

Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11741653665805732354noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542782208343354748.post-30794872958790544472009-12-26T17:25:00.000-06:002009-12-26T17:25:27.858-06:00

This chilly, windy day draws close with the setting sun, and I have spent the vast majority of it in bed.  I awoke in the night with my throat on fire and a headache fit for, well, no one. After a dose of Nyquil I slept again, but woke with the dawn knowing the wretched truth: I had a cold and the Snot Not Christmas was over. Being the day after Christmas, and a Saturday to boot, I took only

Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11741653665805732354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542782208343354748.post-37576543978207937702009-12-25T19:12:00.000-06:002009-12-25T19:12:22.427-06:00

After a lovely morning of revelry and joy, all four of us chipped in to prepare a feast for several friends who also find themselves far from family this holiday season. I have made it a point to teach my boys how to cook, clean, show hospitality, and engage in other homely activities. The past few years I have enjoyed the first-fruits of my labor and no longer spend holidays by myself in the

Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11741653665805732354noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542782208343354748.post-67059737430926263612009-12-24T19:58:00.001-06:002009-12-24T22:25:42.051-06:00

...in the den after dinner opening stockings with my family. Each year the Parkers hang out our stockings early in December. Throughout the month each of us puts trinkets in the other stockings so that by Christmas Eve they are overflowing. Then, on the all important Eve, we open our stockings. I have a bit of an addiction to lip balm. I keep one in my van, one by my bedside, in my purse, in

Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11741653665805732354noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542782208343354748.post-85628550766290259582009-12-23T14:14:00.000-06:002009-12-23T14:14:46.227-06:00

Running is my nemesis. I cannot conquer it. I started running in college to lose my freshman 15 and keep it off, but back in those days I could run 3 or 4 miles a week and that was plenty...literally.  Right after college I moved with Mark to Croatia. We spent four years in that wonderful place. I tried to keep running after we moved there, but Croatians do not run the streets for exercise. It

Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11741653665805732354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542782208343354748.post-4678472404222704792009-12-22T18:53:00.000-06:002009-12-22T18:53:22.629-06:00

Wee 1 and her parents had dinner with us last night. Generally when we have dinner guests Mark's job is to take the guests into the other room while I get dinner finished because I cannot chit-chat and cook at the same time. Inevitably I get distracted by the conversation and then lose my place in the meal preparations. Cooking is the ultimate multi-tasking experience if you want to get

Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11741653665805732354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542782208343354748.post-57494858659425682742009-12-21T21:36:00.003-06:002009-12-21T22:24:33.856-06:00

Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte reigns as one of my favorite all-time novels. Darkly haunting with hope and love drizzled throughout, the book enthralls and inspires. Sadly, the ravings of the mad woman recently in my attic were neither enthralling nor inspiring. Boys 1 and 2 went with me to excavate and organize our attic. We have an amazingly spacious walk-in attic with more than enough room to

Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11741653665805732354noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542782208343354748.post-16248355823342880922009-12-20T20:43:00.000-06:002009-12-20T20:43:19.846-06:00

Christmas traditions are wonderful. For Christmas I will do things I wouldn't do any other time of the year, like shopping and making caramel corn. For Christmas I will watch the same movies year after year even though I rarely like to watch the same movie twice. For Christmas I will go to extravagant lengths to hide things and get up earlier than anyone else in the house. This year I bid adieu

Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11741653665805732354noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542782208343354748.post-80136390277925570982009-12-19T18:41:00.000-06:002009-12-19T18:41:56.203-06:00

There is a smell unique to boys who have been outside playing. It is a combination of boy sweat, grass, dirt, and some kind of metallic smell. The best way I can describe it is that it smells like sweaty nails. If you have never smelled a boy just come in from the backyard, then imagining what sweaty nails smell like may be rather impossible. However, having discussed this matter with other boy

Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11741653665805732354noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542782208343354748.post-56914947799997056992009-12-18T11:30:00.000-06:002009-12-18T11:30:31.439-06:00

Last year I hosted the first annual HUGSR Chicks Christmas Cookie Extravaganza. It was a wonderful evening with women from Harding Graduate School, fellowshipping and decorating Christmas cookies. On that historic night I learned a marvelously easy and fun way to decorate cookies from my good friend Lisa.Lisa, an amazing young woman with a bright future in ministry and a beautiful smile always

Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11741653665805732354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542782208343354748.post-31842058594810871302009-12-17T17:37:00.001-06:002009-12-17T17:37:28.960-06:00

The boys have no school tomorrow and my office is closed for the holidays, so I declared this Thursday night to be Friday night. For us, that means a number of things: shirking of all chores, Little Ceasar (pizza, pizza), a good movie, and everyone in their PJs early and gathered in the den. Occasionally we add a friend or two or throw in a good game of Monopoly or a few rounds of Taboo. And for

Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11741653665805732354noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542782208343354748.post-54773672358223430532009-12-16T17:36:00.000-06:002009-12-16T17:36:55.191-06:00

I did not learn how to cook growing up. I learned how to open cans and pop out biscuits or pour out soup, but never really learned to cook. My mother was more of a baker, and I remember watching her spend hours baking and beautifying cakes. But cooking was something I had to teach myself. Mark and I spent the first 4 years of our marriage as missionaries in Croatia. In those days markets were

Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11741653665805732354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542782208343354748.post-74786088133027209442009-12-15T20:48:00.006-06:002009-12-15T21:04:16.518-06:00

As mentioned previously, I am a professional student...not in the sense that I get paid for it, but in the sense that I just can't give it up. I know it sounds cliche, but cliches are cliche for a reason. In any case, I have for a few years now been in a rotation of biblical Greek classes. While I cannot say I adore the Perfect Passive Participle (except for the elegance of its alliteration),

Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11741653665805732354noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542782208343354748.post-57604990307865067102009-12-14T17:49:00.001-06:002009-12-14T17:56:16.707-06:00

I just got a great suggestion from one of my many girlfriends. A number of days ago I mentioned that rather than use my sons' real names on this public blog I would call them Boy 1 and Boy2, but I did not have a good name for the sweet little girl that spends a few days each week with us. Today it was suggested I call her Wee 1 to match the number system I use for my boys. Simple but brilliant.

Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11741653665805732354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542782208343354748.post-33321329524279221222009-12-13T22:03:00.006-06:002009-12-13T22:10:23.968-06:00

One of my favorite Christmas songs is "Mary Did You Know?" Against the backdrop of a haunting melody, the song gently asks Mary if she knew her baby boy would one day walk on water and was the Great I AM.  Of course, we cannot know what exactly Mary knew. We know she had been told her baby would be called the Son of the Most High and would reign over the house of Jacob forever. We know from

Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11741653665805732354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542782208343354748.post-58406579920199285392009-12-12T22:20:00.000-06:002009-12-12T22:20:51.543-06:00

Last night I made my son throw up. It's not something I typically do, and it wasn't over a plate of green vegetables. After five days of asthma treatment, Boy 2's energy has returned with a vengeance. He's not excessively hyper, but he does get a bit spastic when cooped up for long, which, between bad health and bad weather, he has been. Years ago I stumbled across a foolproof way to deal with

Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11741653665805732354noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542782208343354748.post-38389851982635933572009-12-11T15:58:00.000-06:002009-12-11T15:58:50.404-06:00

I have not purchased a single Christmas present. That's because this year we are trying something a bit different...Do-It-Yourself Christmas. Making each other gifts to go along with the ones we buy has been a long standing tradition in our family. Last year I gave Boy 2 a set of 12 chore passes. Once a month he could redeem a chore pass and I would do a chore of his choosing for him. Another

Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11741653665805732354noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542782208343354748.post-71846398845327244332009-12-10T19:59:00.000-06:002009-12-10T19:59:55.654-06:00

When I set out to right this blog I wondered whether I could actually do it. 365 days of writing something worth reading is daunting to say the least. Today is day 15 and nothing happened toay that was particularly interesting, witty, compelling, or out of the ordinary and, therefore, worth writing about. Not unless you count dropping everything to respond to a call from Boy 2 about whether he

Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11741653665805732354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542782208343354748.post-73859841539318927922009-12-09T17:12:00.000-06:002009-12-09T17:12:11.300-06:00

Long day of caring for the asthmatic boy yesterday means a day of cramming today for a final tomorrow. Being immersed all day in koine Greek leaves me with very little else in my head. Since I cannot actually write biblical Greek--for we learn only to read it for the purposes of studying the New Testament better--I have nothing much to say. Rather than bore, I will bid adieu for the night and

Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11741653665805732354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542782208343354748.post-32426258144197639862009-12-08T22:58:00.000-06:002009-12-08T22:58:34.501-06:00

This morning I learned that the itsy-bitsy virus Boy 2 had was actually a reprise of the asthma he has not been visited by for 3 years. Within moments of getting the news I found myself back in the space and time in which  I dwelt in his 7 asthma years which began when he was an infant. Everything came back to me in the flash of a second as if we had never stopped breathing treatments and

Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11741653665805732354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542782208343354748.post-19975950942901585372009-12-07T17:38:00.000-06:002009-12-07T17:38:43.829-06:00

I have a great life. It's not always been great (lots of bumps and bruises from the growing up days and my own stupidity in my adult days), but it is right now. And I am so grateful. Boy2 (my new easier-to-type moniker for my youngest son) stayed home with a cold today--no, I'm not the mom who coddles her kids at the first sign of snot. But I am the mom of the kid who never runs fever when he is

Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11741653665805732354noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542782208343354748.post-18684093443930600322009-12-06T18:24:00.000-06:002009-12-06T18:24:19.726-06:00

If you had asked me 20 years ago I would not have predicted that I would spend 10+ years in graduate studies. Alas, and so I have, with many more to go. In 1996 we moved to Memphis so that my husband could attend seminary and earn a Master's of Divinity. In 1997, I began my degree in counseling at the same school. Both of us were committed to keeping family first, so we studied part-time. After

Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11741653665805732354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542782208343354748.post-42449222763164035122009-12-05T18:39:00.000-06:002009-12-05T18:39:25.285-06:00

It's Saturday night and the house is empty of all but me. For many women that would mean it's time to light some candles and get out the bubble bath. For others (believe it or not) time alone involves scrubbing bubbles and Mr. Clean. But for me on this night the equation for relaxation looks like this: Boy 1 at teen boys' retreat x (Boy 2 + Husband at karate Christmas party) = Mom in empty

Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11741653665805732354noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542782208343354748.post-8308967844326635322009-12-04T16:59:00.001-06:002009-12-04T17:00:03.255-06:00

I had an interesting lunch today. The food was Chinese at a place new to me. It was delicious, of course, but the conversation left me feeling rather spent. For two hours a friend and I discussed how to protect vulnerable others within the church context. This friend is a highly experienced, well-regarded, and published psychotherapist who now conducts training for churches in protecting the

Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11741653665805732354noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542782208343354748.post-69715402918197436912009-12-03T18:22:00.000-06:002009-12-03T18:22:49.031-06:00

It's been a week since I turned 39 and started this adventure in journaling. I must say, having made a public commitment sure has improved my journaling. I've never been one to write daily, take pictures, scrapbook, or generally preserve the now for the future. All those a-mother's-journey-to-you kind of books I was given while the boys were gestating sit dusty on my bookshelves. I can see them

Christinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11741653665805732354noreply@blogger.com1