Not Today

I just don't have it in me today.

Today, nothing fits me. Nothing that is being asked of me, of how I live and work, hangs comfortably on me. Today, it's all too big, too hard.

Today, I don't even know what could be asked of me that would feel like a fit. I can't remember what I am good at anymore. What might God have designed me for? I had answers a few years ago; not so much, now. I like being a cheerleader, rah-rah optimist, who makes people laugh and feel better. I like being nice to people (though I fully realize I do not always succeed in the attempts--sometimes I don't even attempt). What kind of productive career with an impact for God's Kingdom do you live out with those two desires?

Today, I don't have a clue.

Today, I am the "my every failure leads to another example of my failure" girl. Just a few days ago I was bragging (in that nice, "look what God has changed in me" kind of way) that I don't really live in the world of Kathie butt-kicking that I used to. Used to be, when I would catch myself in a mistake or a moment where I realized I could have been more Christ-like, I would spend far more time berating myself about my poor behavior than confessing and being renewed at the feet of my Savior.

Today feels like failure. It feels like years of failure with some of the same struggles, the same lack of growth, the same fears, the same selfish "why can't things just be the way I want?"

In a work discussion yesterday about potential changes and reprioritizing, a very caring person asked me if the new ideas and plans (compared to a different plan we once envisioned, neither one materially or inherently better than the other) made me feel like a failure at all ... in light of the changes and shifts, he was worried about me. The intent of the question was, without doubt, to make sure that I knew I was not viewed by anyone as a failure. I answered confidently, glibly, "No! I am grateful for this. Everything that has transpired has been in the kindness and wisdom of my Father."

Today, the answer's different. Though I know it's not true, my tired spirit cries out, "Sorry! I know I blew it!"

Today, I am sick of being shaped, reworked, molded, built up, refined. I want to be a lump of clay that's left alone in whatever color, shape, sheen, I already am. Something raw in me says, "ENOUGH already! NO MORE change! THANK YOU!" I want to be selfish, to curl up in the safety of Him and not be available to the world.

Today, I don't want to be used of Him, to be a valuable tool, to make a difference.

Today, I am not loving "learning to be imperfect" as my blog description so cheerily states. I want perfection, or something much closer to it. I am worn out with embracing the tripping, stumbling me. I want to be a girl that looks like she knows at least a speck of what she's doing.

Today, there is not enough of me to go around.

The great thing about being a girl and being 40 is that this may all well change tomorrow.

But today, this is the story. Good thing His mercies are new every morning. They'll be back.

The Godfather Was Here

Well, at least he would have been pleased to be here. We would have fed him well.

[P.S. Look away now, Corrina...pictures of food follow.]

Tonight's movie event was The Godfather and deeeee-licious Italian food. I invited the right people, I tell ya. We ate gorgeous yumminess!

Appetizers of Jen's insalata caprese, Barb's bruschetta and marinated mozarella, and Alissa's prosciutto e melone were heavenly.








Then we reveled in spaghetti and sausage (Pete Ferrara's red sauce recipe...kiss that man for me next time you see him) and Bonni's homemade lasagna.


And I can't believe we forgot to take pictures of the whole plate of cannoli and of Karin's homemade ice cream (peach and chocolate) and strawberry Italian ice, but here is the one cannolo that was left over...not for long, though!


All this tasty goodness was enjoyed with a Malbec, one each from Barb and Alissa. Man, that's happy stuff. And the label on the Cupcake Malbec is just adorable :)

Thanks for a great night, friends! And why can't we remember to take pictures of the people, too? We are as gorgeous as the food!

Know what's cool about being a grown-up?

(That's being a grown-up according to my age, not to be confused with acting like a grown-up. I know you know this.)

You can decide that doing perhaps two moderately productive things when you come home is plenty. Then you can eat dinner and chill. You need not be productive all evening, 'cause I am the grown-up who lives here and I say so.

Spray some weeds and wash out the bird bath. Done. Time to chill.

Trim a few rose bushes and tidy up the lawn of the rocks that trickled into the grass from the new river rock installed in the flower beds yesterday. Oh, and replace the filter in the heater/air conditioner unit. That's three things! Done. Time to chill.

Okay, there was a fourth thing: do a little shiver dance on the lawn when you find yet another little blue robin egg shell all broken into and empty. Directive to the big, mean birds around here: "STOP eating the little blue robin eggs! Sad!"

But back to my story...

Now, granted, this system may work as splendidly as it does because I don't have another grown-up or any small-ups demanding anything from me, but don't let any jealousy you may have ooze out. That's a mess I don't want to clean up. 'Cause it's time to chill ;)

There are those weeks of insanity crammed with other commitments, of course, 'tis true. But this current come-home-system is makin' me pretty happy!

I may have just now embraced this new approach as a result of years of being conditioned that summer means I should not be working, or because my mom just retired and is doing exhausting things like going to lunch with friends and Disneyland with my dad. My brain thinks IT should be on vacation (permanent or otherwise), too!

There is also a new freedom about some things. Somewhere I did a post (maybe it was Facebook) last year about giving in and hiring a yard guy/gardener and admitting my utter disinterest and painfully slow learning curve regarding my yard. I love looking at the thing, but I feel no draw to do anything to it.

What a brilliant decision. It was part of a list of things I committed at the beginning of this year to NOT doing: I do not have to make myself learn to cook, love to garden, or be a better housekeeper. I am a working girl. There you go. "Freedom!" I cry, in my best William Wallace voice!

So, two or three chores, then chill! Ooh...I bet a Sonic Blast would help that along...ooh...

Q&A from StoryCorps

Liann introduced her students to StoryCorps toward the end of the year, so I got to meet it, too. What a great site to wander through and listen to the stories that are captured there. Be prepared to laugh and to cry and to reflect.

This is the first animation that StoryCorps added to any of their collected stories. It's called "Q&A" and captures a 12-year-old with Asperger's syndrome interviewing his mom about being his parent. It's only four minutes, but be prepared to laugh and to cry and to reflect.

Hope it's a perk in your day :)

Q&A from StoryCorps on Vimeo.

The Ego Dance

That's "ego", not "Eggo". I am not a dancin' waffle. (Please read that in the voice of Donkey.)

There is both a bit of disappointment and joy in some life revelations. One of the more recent ones has been the reminder that we never stop being called to growth and change and further, further, further submission to Christ.

Obviously, I know this, but my ego really wants it the other way.

I want the list of achievements and benchmarks that say, "Well, boy howdy, Slusser sure has nailed that aspect of the Christian walk! Well done, girl! No more testin' on that there life challenge!" (I don't know why my voice suddenly went from Donkey to Stinky Pete, but there you have it.)

I know the life growth pattern is richer and deeper, but it's also harder. Can I tell you how horrifically naturally lazy I am? Oy.

So, that's my true confession to come to the spot where I say there is more joy in this particular revelation than disappointment. It gave me a moment's pause recently to listen to a wonderful speaker at our Family Conference who talked about how God, his heartbeat and dearest love, continues to stretch and grow him.

The speaker is 82.

He gets growing opportunities like his flight home with his 80-year-old wife, winding up sleeping in the Atlanta airport overnight because of flight delays. The airport shut down and there were no hotel rooms to be had.

I gotta tell ya, in my head I was like, "Whoa! Give that guy a break! Seriously? Oh, man!"

But I remember the tenderness with which he told the stories of the innumerable times God touched his heart, kept him safe, and rescued him. And I know I want that more than easy, more than benchmarks, more than an "Atta girl".

So, as I submit today and ask God to provide the things I can't make happen (prayer and financial support are this week's focus) and the things I shouldn't make happen without Him, I want to send my ego packing. Again.

And I will not kick my own backside about having to do it yet again.

Because I will still be doing it when I am 82. Lord willing :)

I try to be normal, truly.

I go to lunch like a normal person. I order normal food. I use normal utensils to cut normal bites. Okay, sometimes they are on the larger, more enthusiastic side, but still...today they were normal.

I do take better than normal people with me, mind you. Today I was treated to lunch by Miss Blee for my birthday (that's right...it's June and my b-day is still rockin'!). I promised to use her code name because of where the rest of this story goes. I am committed to the protection of the innocent. Even though she laughed when it happened.

I ordered a perfectly normal, lovely lunch of a petite sirloin, potato and broccoli. See how normal?

I cut a few bites of broccoli and chomp-chomp and all is well. What a nice lunch. What enjoyable company. Tra la la la la.

I go to cut another bite. Slight slip of the knife and fork. No worries; I still have all my fingers. And Blee still has all of hers.

So, slip of knife and fork...the bite of broccoli and the stalk I was cutting it from are still on the plate, but I did see something fly at me.

I glance at the napkin in my lap and see a bitty nubbin of broccoli which I clearly launched off my plate. Whew! It's in my lap! Safe!

But I am me, so I quickly think, "Not so fast, Sluss. Look down again." This time I glance at my shirt. Because if food does not land there, I can pretty much guarantee that it at least caromed off there. Yep. We have a winner.

Not only did the broccoli tidbit, which had bumped into the sightly oily sauce that was on my plate, smack me in the shirt, but it smacked me on the right side. Kind of far right. A significant, dark little circle strategically located on the most pronounced part of my right side.

Yes...I gave myself a "dot" right there. For Pete's sake. It was abundantly obvious, too. Blee chuckled heartily and recommend that I carry my purse on the right side as we left the restaurant. And as, Jennifer said when I stopped at her desk when I got back to the office, "Ha haa haa! Wow. I can't not look at it!"

Yep. I launched food off my plate and gave myself what I want to call a broccoli nipple. But Blee said it was too horrible to say. So I can't say it.

But now you know why she wanted her code name used in here. Jennifer and Bonni, though, I think are quite proud of me :)

And how did I manage the rest of the afternoon in the office, you ask? I keep a scarf in my office in case I feel chilly. Turns out it can also function as a fashionable drape across that third...um...dot.

In the meantime, my dreams of achieving a normal life will linger on...

Trying this from the iPod

Trying to do this from the iPod. Success?

Guess so! Sometimes it's more fun to snap out something while laying in bed on your tummy. This might make it possible :)

Had a most lovely morning at the BAM (Boise Art Museum) and lunch at Bardenay in downtown Boise with fun friends. Thanks for riches like that, Lord!

It was a lovely Friday to cap off two days of the MAF Family Conference and a chance to hear an encouraging speaker and eat too much and get dunked MORE than enough times in a dunk tank. Quite the two days, I tell ya :)

This evening was punctuated with laundry and trying to figure out why I can't seem to keep much in the fridge except condiments. And trying to decide if an addiction to giant green olives is a bad thing. I need to grow up. Maybe tomorrow!