I don’t know about you, but sometimes I think God is really trying to get my attention, possibly because I haven’t been paying attention before!

Well, I feel like this is happening a lot lately and I’ve started looking around to see what He’s trying to get me to change. Because, ultimately, He wouldn’t be trying to hard to get me to listen if I were doing all the right things in the first place.

I keep hearing a song on the radio by Steven Curtis Chapman called Do Everything. I’d post the video here but experience has taught me that it wouldn’t work anyway, but go to YouTube and look for it if you don’t know the song.

The basic message is to “Do Everything You Do for the Glory of God.”

Years ago, I tried to figure out how that’s even possible. At the time I was the wife of a graduate student and the mom of a little girl about four or five years old. We were living in a trailer and seriously had no money. I was thinking about being a writer and people would suggest that I go to a book store and buy the kinds of books I wanted to write and study them. They just didn’t get that I literally didn’t have the money to buy books!

Doing my daily chores and life stuff for the glory of God just didn’t compute. How did defrosting a freezer or folding clothes glorify God? Didn’t I need to be praying endless Rosaries or going out and finding the homeless and bringing them back to my house to feed and clothe?

We actually did take care of a homeless guy for awhile but frankly, he wanted to drink and break windows more than he wanted new clothes or food.

Now it’s years later, and I’m older and I hope, more mature in my walk with Jesus. Last summer, when I went to RWA Nationals, I got a very strong feeling that God was reaffirming to me that He wants me to write. The speakers all seemed to be telling me that and even the missal at the church I went to Mass on Sunday morning had a picture on the cover labeled, “Jesus the Storyteller.” I felt like God was sitting next to me, saying, “Look, I gave you the talent and the desire to write. What are you going to do about it?”

A year has gone by and I’ve finished my book, sent it to an agent, and am still looking. I’m also working on the second book in the series along with a middle grade fantasy novel based on stories my son tells.

But if I’m getting this message that I need to do everything for the glory of God, what am I missing?

Well, of course I know. I’m not working hard enough on my writing. I waste a lot of time on computer games, Facebook, whatever.

And there’s more.

This was the year I said I was going to meet my weight loss goals, and that’s not looking so promising now. I hate tracking my food and I love ice cream.

But, I’m starting to get a new perspective. Today’s second reading this morning was Romans 12:1-2 and as I followed along in the missal I felt that 2×4 to my head (or my heart, maybe) again. Verse 2 especially:

Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind, so that you may prove what the will of God is, that which is good and acceptable and perfect.

Okay, so I’m now seeing things a little differently. When I want to do something, I’ve started asking myself, “Does this bring glory to God?”

If I’m folding clothes or cleaning the bathroom or emptying the dishwasher, I’ve started to realize that those things bless my family and I’ve been called to be a mom so if I do mom things then I bring glory to God.

If I sit down and write my word quota, then since I’m called to write, I bring glory to God.

If I spend an hour playing Word with Friends or Frontierville, I’m not bringing glory to God if my other tasks are being neglected. Games and pasttimes are not evil but they’re not my calling.

Sundays are a day of rest and I can play games then. I can also sew for my family and that’s renewing to my spirit, too, so I can bring glory to God by blessing my family with clothing or lovely things to look at or quilts to keep them warm. I can make gifts to bless others, too.

If I’m eating healthy food to nourish my temple of the Holy Spirit, I bring glory to God.

If I stuff my face with cake and cookies, to the exclusion of good food, I don’t.

I don’t know where this all will lead me but it’s a journey I’m looking forward to.

Parents know there are some milestones your child will go through. You might not expect that sometimes they feel like walking through a door that slams shut behind you and you can never go back.

First words.

First steps.

Start of school.

Those are things we expect and sometimes look forward to. They’re signs that our child is growing up and moving from a baby dependent upon us for everything to a maturing child who begins to love us not because he or she needs us but because they CHOOSE to love us.

It’s pretty awe inspiring.

Then there are unexpected milestones that not only slam a door behind us but smack us in the face as we walk right into them, not even realizing they were coming.

I hit one of those yesterday.

It was the first day of school and as usual, the principal said it was perfectly okay for parents to walk their child or children to their classrooms. Noah said he didn’t need us to do that.

I said fine. If he wanted to be a big kid, then I would totally respect that. He did change his mind when we got to the school and no one else was just dropping their kids off.

However, that wasn’t the milestone. That came later.

He’s been going to this school for four years. I get how carpool works. I know when to leave the house to get my favorite spot (someone’s unsecured wifi reaches the street there and I can use my computer to surf or chat or research something for my book). I got this.

I even was so together this year that I had his supplies labeled as the teachers asked and all that. I figured I was going to be able to hold things together this year.

Pride goeth before a fall, baby.

I got to carpool yesterday and sat in my car, a little behind where I usually sit, but it was okay. When the line began to move, I noticed it was a little slower than last year, but I figured new moms and we had to get back into a routine.

I got to the pickup line and they called his name.

He wasn’t there.

The teacher or mom who was helping asked me if he was in third grade. I said yes and she told me he was in the OTHER carpool line now!

The big kids’ line! The one I don’t know how to work.

I drove around to find that the line was extended farther back than I had anticipated and I ended up “butting” in as I came from a side street into the line.

Now, I don’t know when to leave the house or any of that, but the bigger thing to me is, he’s in the big kid line!!!

This school goes from kindergarten to 8th grade, so I had anticipated another year or so before he’d move. I thought they stayed in the “Front” carpool line until 4th grade, at the very earliest.

Nope.

Today we drove to the front line with no problems, but I’ll have to see how it works this afternoon.

I think I hear a door slamming somewhere.

Our second day in Nashville started a little slow. We went to the Belle Mead Plantation which is a working farm and an antebellum southern plantation. It was okay, but I’ve done plantations before and I get confused over all the names and dates. I guess I’m not a history nerd.

The good thing about Belle Mead was that there is a winery there, and I love wine tastings, so we did that. It’s the only winery in Tennessee and I loved the wines so I bought two bottles to take home.

Yes, I realize that bottles of wine take up more room than mugs but I’m going to be okay with my suitcase!

Then we went to a mall that the tour book said was over a million square feet of shops, which might be true but it seemed like a good quarter or more of them were closed. We finally found an O’Charley’s and had lunch.

After lunch, we decided to go to the Grand Ole Opry and it was a great decision! We loved the backstage tour so much we decided (or rather Elizabeth decided, as she’s the one who paid) to stay and see a show!

We had about an hour and a half to two hours to kill so we went to the Gaylord Opryland Resort to look around.

Last year, before the big flood, RWA was holding its annual conference there so I was supposed to stay there and even had a reservation already. I wanted to see what it was like.

It is, of course, magnificent, but I wonder how long it would take to figure out how to get in and out and where to go if I had gone to a conference there.

We ate dinner, which was super expensive, but super yummy. Elizabeth paid again and I had gotten her some music jewelry as a thank you for this trip and all. She is a bell ringer so the music symbols were appreciated.

Then we went to the show. Fabulous. We had third row seats and had a wonderful time. I signed up for a Opry Visa (which I do not need) but I got a free t-shirt and a chance to go backstage during the show. Didn’t win, but I have some new and old stars I think I will be following.

Tonight, I’m tired, but we have one more full day here so I think we’re doing another mansion and then the Country Music Hall of Fame.

About a month ago or so, my sister-in-law sent me a message on Facebook wondering if I would be interested in the two of us (JUST the two of us) meeting somewhere about halfway between Akron, OH (where she lives) and Baton Rouge, LA (where I live) and spending just a few days doing touristy things and hanging out.

It took a little planning and logistics but yesterday we both flew to Atlanta and got on the same flight from there to Nashville. We rented a car and drove to our hotel in downtown Nashville. After we got settled and all we walked down one of the main streets (5th Avenue, I think) where there were small little restaurants/bars and some little shops, all geared to country or at least live music. This was mid-afternoon, around 3 or 4. Several of these places had their doors open and you could hear and sometimes see live performers performing.

I’ve never been much of a country music fan, although my dad and mom kinda were. I did grow up watching Hee Haw, so many country stars from the 70s and 80s are familiar to me, and I do know some of their songs.

We went into a little rib place and ate something. Then we walked around some more. We came back to our hotel and then, around seven we headed out to a nearby mall and ate at a Ruby Tuesday. Not super exciting, but fun.

Today was our first full day. We went to the Ryman Auditorium which is the former home of the Grand Ole Opry. It was built to be a church in the 1800s and it’s lovely inside. In fact, it is called the Mother Church of Country Music.

We had our picture taken on the stage holding guitars and saw lots of memorabilia from country music stars. I may just find myself buying some country CDs!

Then we at lunch at Panera Bread right next door. We don’t have Panera’s in Louisiana so I eat at one whenever I can.

Then we went to Fontanel, a magnificent log mansion built by Barbara Mandrell’s husband. It was their family home for years and it was amazing. We got there about an hour before the next tour so we went into a small family-style restaurant (Farmhouse) that is at the parking lot for the tour. On the ceiling were about a dozen or so old quilts and both Elizabeth and I remarked how it made us miss Mom, who would have loved this trip and had a blast with us.

After that we went to the the Parthenon. I had promised my son I’d go as we’d seen it in the Percy Jackson movie. Turns out that the movie must have used a set or something because what I saw didn’t jibe with the movie but was more impressive and beautiful. Elizabeth took a bunch of pictures and I got a mug and a T-shirt.

Speaking of mugs, I collect them and I got three(one in each place we visited) before I thought possibly putting them in my suitcase was going to be a problem if this continued. So, no more mugs. I loved the Parthenon so much I also got a t-shirt!

Then we went to the Hard Rock Cafe down the street from our hotel and I got a souvenir glass with my drink! My last drinking vessel this trip! I promise!

Some of my friends know that I love to sew. I mean, LOVE to sew. I had actually forgotten how much until this weekend.

Our house has this HUGE rec room (30 x 24) and roughly half of is has been taken over by my craft stuff. This includes an old dining room table I “inherited” from my friend when she got a new one. It’s got a burn spot in the middle where she let a candle burn too long and the side leaves don’t stay level with the rest of the table, but it’s great for hard use like to cut out patterns or for craft stuff.

Anyway, over time, because it’s a horizontal surface, it’s become covered with all kinds of stuff – papers, magazines, boxes, whatever.

When my mother died, I inherited all her sewing stuff as I’m the only one in the family interested. My mom was a widow, lived alone and sewing/quilting was her passion. So, now I have a computerized sewing machine and TONS of stuff added to the ton of stuff I accumulated.

At the end of last week, I found myself sitting at the table which has now pretty much been cleared off so I can use it to take pictures for my Etsy shop and just to show my husband that there actually is a use for it other than as a landfill! I pulled out a length of fabric from on of the five cabinets he bought me to store my stuff. I decided to make something out of it, so the next day I went to Hancock Fabrics and got a blouse pattern for myself and a pajama pattern for Noah. I KNOW there’s a lot of stuff I bought to sew for him.

Yesterday, I spent the whole day playing with my fabric and rediscovering projects I’d forgotten about. I found a dress I cut out for myself years ago, which was all ready to go, and started working on it.

I realized that there was only half the instructions and started to panic. Then I calmed down and thought, “Hey, I’ve been sewing almost 40 years. I know how to do this. I don’t need the instructions. I wasn’t really reading them anyway; just looking at the pictures.”

I think I need to think this way more often in my life. I know what I’m doing and I shouldn’t let the lack of confidence paralyze me. In fact, I shouldn’t even have this lack of confidence. The worst thing that could happen is that I make a mistake and toss the dress, and where’s the loss then? I didn’t remember I had it; I don’t know how long those pieces have been waiting for me; no one would be hurt.

It’s the same with everything. Take a chance, trust yourself, and you might be surprised what you can do.

As much as Microsoft is everywhere and trying as hard as possible to take over the world, my vote for Mad Scientist/Evil Overlord is Steve Jobs.

Even if everyone I know seems to have an Iphone and EVERYONE on all my favorite TV shows do, I don’t. I seriously can’t afford it and the only reason my husband has one is because he got it from work.

A couple of years ago, at Christmas, my husband got me an Ipod. I don’t listen to much music on it because it truly eats power but I have come to depend on it to be my calendar and my watch and alarm clock and basic personal organizer.

A while back the screen was cracked, like someone took a pick or something and tapped it – cracks radiating from what appeared to the an “epicenter.”

It was useable but I did fear the glass would fall out, so I took it to one of those places that advertise they can fix it in “Five Minutes.”

Well, they said they didn’t have a screen for my second generation (read old and nearly obsolete) Ipod, but they’d be in in a day or two. So, I took it back in a day or so and the woman said it would take her about an hour (Five Minutes?) because they were so backed up.

Nearly two hours later, she called and said it was ready. I went in, paid my $70+ and took it home.

Within an hour of that I noticed that the button on the bottom – the only “button” – had stopped working. I couldn’t get out of any program I was in. If I turned it off and back on, I would be at the home screen and could use another program, but that got to be a pain.

I took it back and she said that sometimes a small piece of the glass gets into the home button and it needed to be replaced. BUT they didn’t have any of those in stock and would have to order them.

After a couple of weeks, I’d called and got an answering machine. For two weeks, I’d call every Monday. Finally, I got a human who said the buttons have to come from KOREA.

Okay, doesn’t Apple have some manufacturing plant somewhere that has an assembly line or something with a station that has a bin of buttons for some underpaid factory worker to put in the proper place?

Failing that, isn’t Korea a place that has modern airports and Western style delivery type systems? Why in the world would it take SIX WEEKS for a part ordered from KOREA to get here? Do they have to be hand carved by blind Buddhist monks, using tools they have to create themselves and then discard each time? Then the precious buttons are carried, one at a time, on satin pillows, down from a snow-covered mountain top by one-legged sherpas?

Honestly!

Finally, I called and they told me the buttons were in. So, I took the Ipod into the repair place and the woman said it was going to take half an hour to fix and did I want to leave it? I said absolutely not, and I sat down and waited.

After a while, I got my lovely little Ipod back, all fixed.

THEN –

A week or so ago, I noticed that the second row of icons wouldn’t work. It also meant that I couldn’t do anything with the wifi settings and since we secured our home wifi, I couldn’t put the code in.

The other day, my daughter wanted to go the Mall to buy birthday gifts for two friends. I went with her and we passed the Apple store.

I thought, ‘Oh, cool. I’ll stop in and they’ll tell him the thing isn’t repairable or all I need to do is reboot the whole thing and it’ll work.’ I dug around in my purse and found the I had it with me so I went in.

I explained the situation to the woman with the iPad at the door. She
tapped a few things into her device, then said:

“Okay, so I have you down for a 7:50 appointment. We’re running about ten minutes behind but someone will be with you.”

I looked a her for a moment, then said, “Wait. You mean now?”

“Well, in about fifteen minutes, but yes.”

I turned to Juliette and said, “Do you want to go get the gifts and then come back?” She looked a little frustrated so the woman said “Do you want to make the appointment for another day?”

I told her no as I’d forget to do it. As long as I was there, I’d get it over with.

So Juliette left and after waiting 15-20 minutes where I did nothing but wander around the Apple store and text my brother, a guy came over and I told him what the problem was. He looked at my Ipod and asked if I’d had the screen replaced.

I said I had and he said they don’t even replace cracked screens. They would have replaced the whole inside set up and having just the screen replaced messed up my touch function. I didn’t even bother to tell him about the button fiasco.

The bottom line is that they could replace the Ipod at cost – $99 or if I recycled my Ipod with them I could have a 10% discount.

Juliette says that’s a lot cheaper than a new Ipod. I don’t know because I don’t check on these things.

Anyway, getting the screen fixed was apparently a bad idea all the way around, but for the moment I’m hanging on to my current one. I can’t get internet at home or do some of my stuff, but I don’t know that I can afford $90 either.

I’m on our church’s VBS committee as well as doing drama every year. I love it. I love making a fool of myself for Jesus!

However, the committee meetings are hard for me sometimes. I don’t know all these people. I mean, I’m getting to know some of the committee members although there are still a couple whose names I might not know, or if I do know that, they might not know me much because if I see them outside of the meeting room, they are appropriately polite, but not overly friendly.

I’m guessing I’m never going to be “friends” with some of them.

Tonight was a tough meeting. There is a woman in our church and who usually does VBS and who I’m friends with on Facebook, who apparently has a son who was in some horrific accident and nearly died. I think I was the only one sitting at that table that didn’t know this. I gather, from the conversation swirling around me, it had to do with a water slide and possibly a party of some kind.

I just looked at her Facebook page and there’s only posts from people wishing her the best and a speedy recovery for the child.

I don’t know how they all knew this but I know I’m not in the grapevine.

I also never know half the women they mention when talking about potential volunteers.

Does this come from not growing up in a place, not going to church with these same people for 35 years or whatever?

How long do you have to be part of something to be PART of it?? However long it is, six years isn’t it.

I have been thrilled to see how the people at my husband’s work respect him and come to him for advice and trust him with responsibility. I was there when he was in graduate school and for years he had no self-esteem and thought he’d never get anywhere in his chosen career. It’s been a long journey to get here but it’s paid off for him.

He says the only reason that people come to him for advice and think he knows what he’s doing is because he’s “old” now (late 40s) and has gray hair (or late least more than he used to).

An interesting thing happened to me at the last HeartLA meeting. As most of my friend know, I have no problem speaking in front of people. In fact, I love doing it, so when our vice president/program director said they needed someone to speak at the June meeting, I said I would and I asked what they wanted me to speak on.

Suddenly, everyone in the group started talking about self-editing and grammar and asking me questions about the book I edited for Crescent Moon Press and asking if I would talk about that.

I said I would, but the thing that surprised me was that all these women were asking my advice and help. One of them even asked if I would look at her book and help her with the editing. Actually, she had asked my daughter of Paperbacks and Frosting fame if she’d “review” her book and I pointed out that she’s reading published books, as it’s a review site not a critique place.

She said she really needed someone to “critique” her book although that wasn’t the word she used. I told her I’d read it.

She acted as though I’d offered her a publishing contract. “You’d really do that for me?”

I told her of course I would and we agreed that she’d send me the first few chapters as that would make her less uneasy about someone else reading it.

I came home thinking how odd it was that all these people look to me for advice and help when my last book came out SEVEN years ago.

Then I realized what it was.

I am older than most of them and I have gray hair!

Maybe they see me as the wise old woman of the group.

Or maybe I’m just the most talkative one (and I am one of the Rowdy Girls – some uncharitable people say I’m the instigator of the Rowdy Girls) and so I offer a lot of opinions and that give the illusion that I know a lot.

Maybe I shouldn’t color my hair after all.

This morning, I went into the kitchen to make my usual morning smoothie and Noah was watching some TV, as school is out for summer and his friends hadn’t started ringing the doorbell and banging on the front door.

Me: Did you finish your breakfast?

Noah: Yes. Can I have some milk?

Me: Sure. Bring the dishes into the kitchen.

As he brought his plate in, I poured him a glass of milk. I took the plate.

Me: Here’s your milk.

He turned and walked back toward the living room, without the milk.

Me: Noah, here’s your milk.

He turned back to me and said:

“Oh, I thought you gave the Vashta Nerada the milk.”

I took Noah to Chick-fil-a after he got out of school at noon for the next to last day on Tuesday.

I hadn’t packed him a lunch as I figured he’d come home and I’d take him out.

In the car, he told me that they’d had eggs and bacon at school. Don’t really get that and he isn’t always the most reliable witness, so I was confused, but then I always am with school stuff.

Anyway, we went home and he changed his clothes. When we got to the restaurant, we saw lots of cars with stickers from his school, so I told him maybe changing hadn’t been necessary and he’d have lots of friends to play with.

Now, normally, the lure of the playplace is too much and he doesn’t always eat all his lunch. Also, his ADHD meds sometimes take away his appetite, so I didn’t expect him to eat much. And if he’d had food at school…. It didn’t matter. This trip was just so he could play and he and Mommy could do something special together.

At one point he told me he was ready for his milkshake, which is a traditional end of our trips there. I asked him if he was done eating and he showed me that he’d eaten everything.

“Wow,” I said, “you scarfed down those chicken nuggets.”

“I was hungry,” he replied. “That’s what a Noah is.”