Death of an Office Chair

My office chair has officially gone to be...wherever the final resting place of fallen furniture happens to be. Serves her right, I suppose--she tried to kill me about three weeks ago (I have no logic for why my chair is a "she," other than the fact that "chair" in Spanish is a feminine noun. Grammar lesson for the day.) Yes, the bucking bronco disguised as a seemingly harmless (and comfortable) office chair tried to throw me off her back in a futile attempt to exact revenge on humans in general. Since that time she has attempted to also maul or permanently disable my assistant principal, a social studies teacher, and the special education coordinator.

I will survive. I will also get myself another office chair with no ill will towards the human race. :)

I hate him.

With a passion. He is conniving, evil, devious, deceitful, rebellious, prideful, hateful, cowardly, and mean. He preys on the weak and even tries to weaken those who are strong in their faith. The Bible says that he roams about the earth like a lion, seeking whom he may devour. He doesn't like it when we take a stand, and he absolutely hates it when we pray together.

Mrs. Lisa and Bro. Johnny have been talking about prayer in Sunday School and how effective it is. The Scripture teaches us (in James, I believe), that "the effectual fervent prayer of a righteous man (woman, couple) availeth much (for the good of the Kingdom of God). They mentioned to us last week that Satan has been attacking their household--their family--their foundation--because he doesn't like what they're trying to do. Apparently he moved to Covington after he left Loganville.

I hate it the way that he plays on fears, anxieties, our past failures, our own self-esteem (or lack thereof), our tendency to self-preserve, and I hate how he attacks those that are trying to do right. I hate him for his desire to steal, kill and destroy... but I'm thankful that I have The Mighty One to do battle for me when I can't defend myself. I'm so blessed to have a husband that is humble enough to pray over us both and beg God for protection when we sense satan's claws creeping up too close to us and even more grateful to have married someone who recognizes such attacks for what they are.

I'm here to put Satan on notice.

Dear Satan,

I see you. I hear your attacks. I have seen you destroy families, tear marriages apart, and weaken the bonds of faith through your efforts. I am sick and tired of it. I feel your presence in the conversations and daily temptations we experience and in the pessimistic thoughts that result from them, and I will not let you win. I waited too long, sought God's will too hard, and care too much about my marriage to let you get a foot in our door. You cannot have our children. You may not have my husband. You will not destroy me or the testimony the Lord has given us. No matter what it takes, we will keep praying. We will keep begging God for help. We will continue to rebuke you in His name. We will pray over the precious children God has allowed us to borrow for a time--we will pray that they will be mighty warriors, sold out for Our Father, and hedged in with the protective wall of prayer we have built around them. We will fight you with every ounce of strength that is in us, and, when that's not enough, we will cry out to Our Creator (and yours too, in case you forgot) for help. We will claim the promises that no weapon formed against us will prosper. Please don't forget that your days are numbered. You may have won small skirmishes in my life or in the life of my family, but you will not win this war.

Sincerely,
Becky

Whew. I feel better. What a joy it is to know that, according to the Love Letter the Lord wrote us (aka the Bible), we win. satan loses. simple as that.

Lessons Learned

I fell into the trap. You know, the "those dang foreigners can't speak English well and I don't want to deal with them" trap. The story unfolds on a sunny, clear day in the middle of May in Conyers, GA. I walked into Target. You know, this place:

You should know first my mission (this becomes an important part of the story later, so read on).
Shortly after our honeymoon, we went to Target to use some of our gift cards and get some things for the house. I had calculated how much we had, and was surprised when we had to pay as much out of pocket as we did. I realized on the way home that night what had happened--I had banked on getting a credit from returning some of our gifts (we'd gotten doubles of some things, yadda yadda). I called to see if it would be possible to (a) return said gift items and get a gift card; (b) "return" some of the items we'd just purchased (not physically, but on paper); (c) "repurchase" those items using the gift card and (d) get a credit back to my bank account for that amount. She said she wasn't sure but to come in and try. (Are you thoroughly confused? It confuses me just talking about it.)

Back to yesterday (you remember, sunny day, blah blah). I walked into Target and saw the lady at the customer service counter. She was helping another customer and I noticed right away (a) her skin tone and (b) her heavy accent. I admit it. I thought in my head, "she's never going to be able to understand what I need to happen. I wonder if I can diplomatically request someone else to help me...aka an American." Yes, that's exactly what I thought. Judge me if you like--I'm just being honest.

May, as her name happened to be, came over to see what I needed. I explained everything to her. I'll have you know that May took good care of me. She made sure I got everything I needed, including some finagling on her part to make sure that I got the full amount that I'd paid originally (despite the fact that some of the items we'd purchased were now on sale.) She did so efficiently and in the most friendly manner possible. Holy cow. I walked out of the store with my head a little lower than when I had come in.

Lessons learned for the day: (and at this point, I'd like to put in a plug for a book I've read, Sophie's Heart. There is a part of the book that is along the same lines.)

• Most "foreigners," "extranjeros" as they are called in Spanish, are not stupid. Lack of understanding of any particular language does not constitute lack of knowledge in general. I have three college degrees, but if I went to Yugoslavia right now I'd sound like a babbling idiot. I have spoken to plenty of American-born, American-bred folks who couldn't fight their way out of a wet paper sack, if you know what I mean. :)
  
• Having a heavy accent on the hearer's part also does not necessarily translate (pardon the pun) into the need to speak slowly and loudly on the speaker's part. Just because someone's speech gives away their native tongue (or land) doesn't mean their ears don't hear English (even our Southern drawl) perfectly fine.
• I agree that, if you come to America you should learn English. Not because it's "our country," because technically we weren't here first, but because it's the official language of this nation. (If I were going to live in Costa Rica I would learn...well, that's a bad example--I already speak Spanish. If I were going to live in Brazil, dear friends, I'd learn Portuguese.) That being said, I count it a privilege that I was born here. I'm thankful for the freedoms we have as American citizens to worship our God, educate our children, raise our families and care for our loved ones (for the most part) as we choose. I do not take it lightly that thousands have died to defend those rights, even if they may not personally believe in them. One of the blessings we have as a nation is the fact that people in other countries desire to be here. I'm not sure, but I don't think that Afghanistan, Mexico, or Ireland has people beating down their borders to get in (I may be wrong, but...) Just because I was born here doesn't mean I think "we" are the only people entitled to be here. I believe there should be control on immigration and such, but for those people who have taken the steps to be here legally and desire to become a fruitful part of our citizenry (is that a word? probably not.), I say welcome. :)
• May was a really nice lady. :)

So I'm looking....

...for date ideas. I said from the beginning of mine and Casey's courtship that our date life probably looked like no other couple's (of course, I realize too that this may be an overly optimistic statement...the Bible does say that there is nothing new under the sun, but what you hear about date nights rarely mirrored ours during the time before we got married.)

Just a quick opportunity to put a picture of me and the best thing that ever happened to me, outside of salvation:




Oh, we enjoyed what most would call typical dates--he took me to Longhorn's after our photo session for the church directory (this was before we even *technically* started dating, but we had had "the talk" ("Do you like me? "Um..no...well, maybe...why, do you like me?" "Yes, very much so." "Oh....well, yeah--I do too....as long as you're sure." "So now what?" "Um...let's pray about it." <--this went on for a month before we became "official.") :) We double dated with Holly and her boyfriend at the time...we went to the movies a few times. Those? Normal. We also took the kids to Wal-Mart. We came to my apartment and watched movies until one, two or all five of us (us + 3 kids) fell asleep, and then Casey or Casey and Corbin or Casey and all three kids would get up and go home. We traveled to Greensboro to pick up the kids, have ice cream, and take them back to their mom's house. We chaperoned youth outings and sat together. We went to my dad's house to help out or just hang out. We also went to the Farmer's Market looking for produce for his dad's store. We went looking at motorcycles, trucks, and hot rods. He came to see me at work for no particular reason. We went to Waffle House and had some of our most personal, informative talks until 2 am or whenever he had to leave for work. He stopped by my place to get soup and a sandwich on his way to work. These dates? atypical, I think...and I loved every one of 'em!

Now. We're married. for a whole month now. Now that we're back from the honeymoon and don't have to worry about curfew (other than knowing that I have to get up for work the next morning), I find that as long as one or both of us are working full-time jobs outside the home, dates will have to be a more concerted effort. It gets very easy to find that, by the time we get home from work, look at the mail, figure out our schedule, put gas in the car, run errands, feed the dog, and cook or warm up something for dinner, it's late. I look at the clock and want to spend uninterrupted quality time with my hubby, but the ticking of the clock reminds me that, in a very short amount of time, I need to be rested because (as Bro. Johnny says,) "6am comes awfully early!" I don't want to get in the rut of work-home-responsibilities-supper-cuddling-bed every day.

This is where you, my faithful reader (are there any of you out there?), come into play. I looked online some today (a very limited amount--our school firewalls consider anything with the word 'romance,' 'sexy,' or 'date' to be off limits....so that cuts out most of my googling for date ideas.) for some ideas. I need more. things like...

Romantic Dates
Fun Dates
Cheap/Free Dates
Quick Dates (aka with little/no preparation needed)
Long Dates (aka those that may take lots of prep time, but last a long time)
"Get to Know You" Dates (aka those focused on learning rather than just the aim of spending time together)

Thoughts?

Technology is an incredibly useful tool. When it works. I did not realize just how much I rely on my cell phone until recently, and I find that I'm practically paralyzed without it. No matter how much I may scream from the rooftops that I'm not in bondage to my cell phone (yes, I sound like an addict..."i don't need my cell phone. I can stop using it anytime I want."), I don't go anywhere without it. Ever.

I decided (apparently subconsciously) that I would see just how durable my cell phone was on Saturday evening. Yes, these things have come so far that surely they can withstand going for a swim in a glass of sweet tea. Ah, naivete...how optimistic you are. I tried, to no avail, to dry out said phone. I spoke to it, caressed it, prayed over it, nothing. I even checked the little sticker inside the battery pack that tattles to the Verizon folks as to whether or not it is simply "broken" or has suffered the ominous water damage. It's still intact, but my phone still will not work.

No fear, I have insurance. I called Verizon to inform them of the damage and to ensure that I am insured. They assure me that I am, and transfer me to the Asurion folks to process my claim. My deductible: $89. The original price I paid when I upgraded to this phone: $189 -$100 rebate card =$89. Phooey. Well, that won't happen till payday. Options? I still have the Verizon Dare in the junk drawer at the apartment...which leads me to my second story of the day.

Dare apparently wasn't listening to all the church services I made her attend, as she appears to be possessed by one of Satan's legions. I noticed in September of 2009 while trying to send a text message that I kept pressing the button in the lower left of the screen (note to self..never buy a phone again that is entirely touch screen.)...then I noticed it wasn't me. I would try to send a text...dial a number...look at pictures...change the wallpaper....and no matter what I pushed, the button in the lower left of the screen would light up. Then it happened. I put the phone on the seat beside me and noticed it lighting up on its own. I locked the phone. Guess where the unlock button is on the screen? You got it. Dare unlocked herself and proceeded to try and send a text message. I called the Verizon folks to see who their local chaplain was and the guy on the other end told me I needed to update my phone by dialing *228. "sir, I can't." "Why not?" "Well, the screen is totally unresponsive and I can't press anything." "Oh, (sounding a bit puzzled), I see. Let's try something else. Go to the settings and tools menu and try to calibrate your screen." "Um...I can't do that." "You can't? (sounding exasperated at this point) Why not?" "(big sigh here) Because my screen is totally unresponsive and I can't press anything." "Ohh...ma'am, I can't help you. You'll need to go to a Verizon store." So I did. In the bathroom at the Verizon store Dare decided the whole store needed to hear the last voice message I had received, so she unlocked herself and opened up the song I got from one of my students. I promptly got embarrassed and bought a new, exorcised phone with no problems.

Dare is at it again. I have a phone (aka security blanket) that does nothing but sit here. Luckily I have her locked and she is staying that way, but for all the good she's doing me I could have just brought a brick with me to work. Oh, the joys of technology.

Friday...whoo, Friday. Different set of kids working on AP exams, same Testing Coordinator (aka me) waiting patiently for them to finish. I just read Mrs. Leanne's post about her mama, and it made me wax nostalgic (I don't ever wax anything, so listen up!) about my mama...and then I got to thinking about how blessed I am with Mother's Day coming up.

Mother's Day can be a little tricky for me. The Sunday before mother's day was when my mom 'graduated'--aka got a brand new body and got to go home to be with her Creator--12 years ago. Some years I handle it with gusto and some years, ..well, not so much. My goal is for 2010 to be one of those 'gusto' years. I admit, I have fallen down on the job--not one card have I bought for any of the mamas in my life...but they say phone calls are more special anyway, so we're going to fly with that thought.

I'm a pretty blessed individual, if you ask me (go ahead, ask me!)--A lot of people get the chance to spend their lives being loved and influenced by an incredible mom...I have had six.

My biological mom, Angelia Brown Phillips, was the best mom I ever could have asked for. Ever. She never raised her voice at anyone (except that one time in high school when some telemarketer was trying to take advantage of her naive daughter--that would be me--and she got him on the phone. I'm glad I wasn't him.) Mama had a quiet faith; she didn't get to go to church a lot in the last few years she was alive because of her health, but every bit of advice she ever gave me was grounded in God's word. I remember sitting with her on more than one occasion and her begging me never to start drinking or smoking. Some people ask how I turned out as well as I did, and besides the Lord, I believe that it had a lot to do with the fact that her and daddy never threatened. They both told us growing up that there would never be anything we could be that was "too bad to come home for." That's not to say they didn't put the fear of God in us or spank us when we needed discipline, but we knew that no matter what, we would work it out. There was no threatening, but rather a pleading for us to do right. It worked. Mama wasn't a good housekeeper, but she worked a full-time job (not to mention the one-hour-each-way commute), so when she got home in the evenings she was more concerned with making sure she talked to daddy about how his day was, talked to us about our day at school or work, and spending time with us than she was with making sure there was no dust on the TV. I appreciate that more than I can say. I told my mom everything (even the time I got my cartilage pierced right before my 18th birthday without telling her...eventually I couldn't handle the guilt and showed her..her response? "Well, if that's the worst thing you ever do then I'll consider myself a success as a parent..but I don't want to be here when your father finds out.") and she was my best friend (save your sermons--I know parents and kids aren't supposed to best friends---but you know what I mean.)---I see girls walk through the halls of RCHS every day who talk about how much they loathe their mom, and I just want to grab them by the shoulders and say, "if you had any idea what it was like to be without her you'd shut your mouth."...but that's something you can't possibly understand unless you're there. We bought cookie sheets for mama for Mother's Day the year she died and we never got to give them to her. I used those cookie sheets up until a few years ago and I thought of her with every batch. :)

My Kansas mama, as I affectionately call June, has been in my life since around 1992. She and David were a couple at church that we had met---I don't know if it was the bright colors she always wore or the jewelry that made her fingers sparkle...it could have been the fact that she kind of took me under her wing not long after we met. Whatever it was, Mama June quickly became a huge influence in my life. In 1994 my brother found out he had Hodgkin's Disease. From March until November of that year, mama and daddy were at the hospital with him a few times a week in Augusta for chemotheraphy and radiation; so that I wouldn't be left at home or have to miss school, I would stay at David and June's house for a week at a time. I noticed that, no matter what day it was, there was always an adventure at their house--David was out working somewhere--trucking, mechanicking, cutting the field, or something else--and June was working on a project...quilting, sewing, planting, painting, or making a set of curtains out of something she had found in the storage closet. She cooks three times a day even now--it may be something small and simple, but you can be guaranteed that she's going to cook at least one part of every single meal..homemade biscuits, corn in the microwave (I mean corn on the cob, y'all--she knows how to make it in the microwave and it's yummy!), or pork chops on the grill. I don't think there's anything that she doesn't know how to make. June got saved not long after I met her, and she absolutely inspires me to be a better Christian. She is a phenomenal example of what a helpmeet is supposed to be for her husband, and she has a servant's heart like you wouldn't believe.

My Aunt Betty has got to be one of the sweetest ladies on the planet. She's my mom's oldest sister, and is old enough to have been my grandmother. I've known her my whole life, but after mama died she unofficially adopted our family. For a long time after that May she would bring meals over (for some reason, I noticed that the green beans she brought always came packaged in a Country Crock butter tub. Every. Single. Time.) :) She calls me, my brother, and my dad on a regular basis to check on us. She still makes million dollar salad for daddy on occasion because she knows he likes it. I get a card for every holiday (including my birthday, the most important holiday of all!) and she sees to it that I get invited to all of the family events. She was one of the people who had to give their stamp of approval on Casey before I could marry him, and I'm so glad she's been a part of my life the way she has. Aunt Betty has the market cornered on southern hospitality and she has made sure that I got my fair share of lessons in southern charm as well. She always makes sure I know that I'm being prayed for, and I'm confident that her prayers have been a huge contribution to the way some of my life has turned out.

My stepmom came into the picture in Christmas of 1999. Dad told me he'd met someone on the internet (yes, you read that right!) and I met her in the summer of 2000 right before I was leaving for my first mission trip to Costa Rica. I knew not too long after that that dad was going to marry her, and, as awkward as I felt about this new woman in my life, I saw a sparkle in my dad's eyes again that died when my mama did. For so long after mama died, I watched my dad just 'exist.' When Brenda came into the picture, I saw him gain an ounce of two or hope that life might just go on. Brenda is talkative (much like me) and you never have to question where you stand with her; I appreciate this personality trait in her because 99% of what she thinks, she says (if she can remember it that long :)). She wants to know all about my life (even the little details) and that shows me that she's interested in me. That makes me feel important. She has a heart the size of Montana...or Canada, better yet. There's not a thing in the world she wouldn't do for me--or dad--or my brother--or almost any Joe Blow off the street, because she's just that generous. She gives some of the best backscratches in the world, and doesn't get offended at all if you stick your feet in her lap and ask her for a footrub (and I have, on many occasions!) She is good to--and for--my daddy and I love her for that. She loves me and Greg like we came from her, but she's always been sensitive and has made sure that we know that she's not trying to take my mama's place. I appreciate that so much about her.

I met Mrs. Lisa seven years ago when I first started coming to Light of Calvary here in Conyers. I was drawn to her family for the way they seemed to bond with one another, and I think I remember calling my dad and saying I had met the white Cosby family. Over time, Mrs Lisa became another mom-away-from-mom that I could go to for advice, support, or just to cry. I appreciate so much the way that, no matter what question I have for her, she always answers with scripture. I yearn to have the Biblical knowledge that she does. She loves her husband and children beyond words and would fight for them to the death, if that's what it took. They are her absolute priority and you can see that in the decisions and sacrifices she makes. Through her Sunday School class I have learned a lot about what being a good wife means (though, at the time I was in her class, I remember being a little pessimistic as to whether or not I would ever get the chance to put into practice what I had been taught!)

Most recently, Mrs. Toni has come into my life. I'm thankful to say that I have a mother-in-law, not a monster-in-law :) Mrs. Toni struggles so much with her health and what she wants to say often comes out either garbled or not at all. That being said, she never ceases to put a smile on my face. She calls Casey a lot and tells him the she loves him and me (even if, at times, she can't remember my name...'Female' works just fine for me!) When she sees me at church, she always has a smile and a hug. She has had a huge part in the way my husband has turned out, and for that I am thankful--she and my father-in-law helped create the best husband this girl ever could have asked for. Mrs. Toni doesn't get around very well but still finds a way to keep her house clean, and that is a challenge to me to do better. She reads the Bible all the time and when I visit their house I often see scripture posted on the refrigerator, on her mirror, or by her bed and I am encouraged.

For the second day in a row, I want to say I am blessed. I am thankful for the women that the Lord has put in my life, and I consider it a privilege that some of each of them has contributed to who I am. Happy Mother's Day!!

Well....I'm sitting here watching my AP kiddos try and rack their brains to pass this English Literature exam. Boring from my side of the table, and I'm glad I'm not them!!

That said, I was thinking about my sweet husband this morning and I thought I'd brag about him for just a bit (yes, we're still honeymoonin'..and I hope we are in 10 years..20 years..50 years!) :)

We've been married a little over a month and pretty much every day he does or says something that makes me drop my jaw and wonder what I did to deserve such a wonderful husband. He affirms me several times every day about how beautiful, smart, talented, and hardworking I am (I've said it before and I'll say it again---there are days that I know I screwed up. I know there are times that I look like junk. I have imperfections and things about me and my body that I want to change--but he looks in my eyes, looks me up and down, or inspects what I've just cooked, and somehow sees beyond all that and tells me I'm incredible. Somedays it just makes me want to cry.)

If you've known me for more than about 12 minutes you know I'm not a good housekeeper. One of the things he mentioned to me before we got married (not a request, but rather a passing statement) was that he loved having the bed made up. I'm not a bed maker...but it makes him happy, so I've made an honest effort to build this into my daily routine. If he's still asleep when I leave for work in the morning, I make it when I get home. If he has to get up for a job at the same time I do, he ALWAYS helps me make the bed. The last couple of weeks have been crazy for me at work with testing and stuff, and I have come home on more than one occasion to a bed that's already made and tidied. That, to me, is huge--I consider housework a woman's job..nay, privilege--and when he takes care of something like that for me, it tells me he loves me(yes, I'm about as anti-feminist as they come--but I cannot wait for the day when this is my full time job--it's what I believe we as women were created to do and I love doing things around the house and for my husband that make him feel taken care of.)

Last Friday Casey walked into my office at work with lunch because he knew I hadn't had time to stop and eat. He handed me a bag, and said, "I know you've been a busy bee this week...so I got you something." I opened it up to the little figurine below. He then pulled a bouquet of flowers out from behind his back and said (rather sheepishly), "I got these for ya too..." I seriously almost cried.

Yesterday was beyond stressful (not sure why it hit all at once..maybe it was the hormones, maybe it was the lack of sleep (about 5 hours the night before), or maybe it was the fact that I literally had to be two places at once and couldn't figure out how to make it happen)..I had to be at work by 7; I stayed there till 4:30, went to the apartment with Casey to pack some things, went to church to help Caleb with math, stayed at church for revival until 10 (downstairs in the nursery, no less), went home to take a shower and lie down until Casey got back from the store. Needless to say I was beyond exhausted by the time I got back to my humble abode! :) When I walked in the kitchen at home I found this note:

I walked into our bedroom and saw a made up bed (that I had nothing to do with!)...what a nice treat! I got a shower and laid down until Casey came in, then got up to help him put up groceries. I tried to make him something to eat, and he told me to go lie down. I'm stubborn. This is another fact that you know about me if..well, you've ever come in contact with me for more than 8 minutes! Casey went to change into his PJs and I kept doing what I was doing. He came back out with a trash can from the bedroom he was emptying, looked at me, and said, "you're not obeying." That may seem harsh or belittling to some, but holy cow. I begged God my whole life that He would send me a spouse who would be firm enough to overcome my independent spirit, anbd Casey does just that when he feels it's in my best interest. That doesn't make me feel controlled, it makes me feel loved. I went to lie down and he came in a few minutes later, before he ate his dinner, so we could pray together and I could go ahead and go to sleep.

What a sweet man. What a blessed life I have. What an incredible God I serve that He knows exactly who and what I need and provides it every time!!! :)