Baby Steps

It’s Sunday morning and I’m at home. Normally I would be in church but it was a long night and I was barely functioning this morning so The Man took the older two kids to church and I stayed home with Cupcake. I’m still in my pajamas, wrapped in my favorite blanket, with a tummy full of warm English breakfast tea and three slices of bakery bread with real butter. I just finished listening to a Tim Keller sermon and I feel cozy and content…truly it’s been a quiet and lovely time.

And as if on cue, I heard Cupcake stirring in his room. I love to get that baby after he’s had a good nap. I miss him when he sleeps and there’s nothing I love more than feasting on his scrumptious baby self when he wakes up. The truth is, I love babies. I would keep a baby in the house all the time…it’s the raising them as they get older that I’ll pass on. As I was nursing this sweet soul, basking in the sweetness of the morning, I began to ponder this blessed relationship–that of a baby and his mother. And as I pondered, I sensed the Spirit saying to me, “This is how it is with you and me…think on it.” And so I did.

What I love about this baby of mine is that, well, he’s mine. He is mine. I love him because he is mine. I am deeply invested in everything about him because he is mine. And because he is my child, I have plans for him…and all of those plans are within the context of my immeasurable love for him.

And do you know what else I love about this child? He delights in being totally dependent on me, the one who gave him life, the one who continues to give him life. He literally cannot get out of bed without me lifting him up and over the side of his crib. When I walk in his room, he squeals with delight and bounces up and down. He knows I am his rescuer. And when I lift him out of that crib, he buries his chubby face in me because he is hungry for what I have to give him…and he knows that only I can give it to him. And when he is done, he is totally full and satfisfied, ready to take on life’s adventures…(which for a 9-month-old involves dragging himself around on the floor, not playing with the baby toys that are safe and instead scavenging for dust bunnies under the sofa and the power cord to my computer.) The point is, it should be that simple for me too. My Father loves me because I’m his. He wants me to feast on Him, to fill myself with what He has to offer, to be nourished by Him and Him alone so that I can face my own life’s adventures with glee and fortitude.

And as wild as I am for this baby of mine, my Father is a zillion times more wild about me. As I have kissed and hugged and squeezed my baby this morning, delighting in his chubby legs and gutteral laugh, I’ve thought, “Father, do you love me this much? Am I this perfect in your eyes?” “Yes!” He replied. “But a zillion times more.” My mind cannot fathom it. But I know that if I could really live out of that truth, how different life would be. To look to Him and Him alone as the one who can fill me up and meet my needs. To come to Him with outstretched arms so that He can lift me up over the obstacles I face. To live in total dependance on the one who gave me life…who continues, daily, to give me life. He has plans for me…and those plans are always within the context of His immeasurable love for me, His child.

Daily, I am wayward. I have my own selfish agenda. I want things that look so good, so enticing…but they will harm me. I throw fits and shake my angry fist because, like a baby, I want what I want. Period. Sometimes my Father lovingly redirects me. And sometimes He lets me have what I want and He allows me to experience the painful consequences of my misguided pursuits.

Even now, Cupcake is frustrated that he can’t get what He wants. Just moments ago He was content, here with me receiving the love and nourishment he needed. And now, he’s crawling back to me, both crying and laughing, saying “Mama” and reaching for me. So I lift him up into my lap and I kiss him and hug him and tickle him…and he’s laughing again, squealing with glee and delight actually. And I will always pick him up when he needs me. I will never turn him away. I will love him regardless of the messes he makes and the many times he rejects me and swats me away…because I seemingly get in the way of what he needs.

Just as my Father invites me to crawl up in His lap and find comfort. Just as He will always pick me up when I ask…and even when I don’t. Just as He will never turn me away or stop loving me. Just as He will watch me make mess after mess trying to get what I want. Just as He has painfully watched me swat Him away and reject Him.

May my Father grant me the grace to see my infinite need of Him, to squeal with delight like a dependant child, longing to be picked up and comforted and held tight. May I understand anew, possibly for the first time, how wide and how deep and how strong is His love for me.

And to my sweet Cupcake, I’m so grateful that God gave you to me…so that I can feast on your sweetness and in so doing, taste my Father’s goodness.

Thrifting

I love to shop, always have. Clothes, shoes, make-up, decor…I love it all. Some of my earliest memories involve “shopping” through my mom’s nightgown drawer, making gauzey, flowy, belted (with scarves) dresses for myself. I was three when my first sibling came along. Sadly, my most vivid memory surrounding my younger brother’s entrance into the world was not me holding him or oohing and ahhing over his sweet newborn face. No, nothing noble or sentimental like that. I remember the brand-new Sesame Street sneakers that I got and so gloriously displayed through the hospital. Big Bird graced the bottom of my sneakers and I took giant, exaggerated heel-to-toe steps through the lobby to make sure everyone saw my accessorized sneaker soles. Yes, I can recall every major milestone of my life…and exactly what I wore to mark each of them.

Lest you think I was born into privilege, let me state that I come from humble beginnings. My dad was a minister and my mom stayed at home for 13 years until the youngest was school-age (then she went back into teaching). I am the oldest of four children. I had an immensely happy childhood! Lots of love, lots of friends, big families, and my mom’s great cooking. What I did not have, however, was a closet full of the latest fashion trends like most of my relatively wealthy friends had. Remember Guess jeans? Yeah, I didn’t have those. I survived from hand-me-downs and department store clearance racks. I started babysitting when I was 12 and from then on, bought most of my own clothes. I learned to be creative and resourceful, traits that serve me well now. My mom laughs about seeing me walk out the door for school as a teenager, with an oversized v-neck sweater of my dad’s (remember, this was the 80’s…oversized anything was soooo “in”), belted with a paisley scarf from her winter coat, and my size 6 feet shod in cream-colored flats from Target…into which I strategically placed Liz Claiborne labels I ripped out of my mother’s church pumps. Cut me some slack, I was 15…image was everything.

We are all products of our past to a certain extent. And while I thought God was less than merciful in placing me, a full-of-potential fashionista, in a barely middle-class home, I now see His sovereignty in the seemingly inconsequential aspects of my upbringing. Clearance racks and shopping family members’ closets made me who I am today.

Luckily, I am now privileged enough to shop at Nordstrom’s and my favorite store, Anthropologie. asfjaw#@!!!uer09q823q/jpo. Sorry, that was just me darting out of the way because lightning struck. Truth is, I would LOVE to shop at those chi-chi stores. My reality, however, starkly contrasts. Technically, I guess I could buy those amazing $468 Anthropologie Button Brigade Boots (not that I’ve looked at them on-line and coveted) but then my family would be forced to eat peanut butter and boots for a month and that would just end badly. You know, me resenting the children because they ate the boots, the children resenting me because it’s “boots for supper…again?” So, I love thrift stores. I shop them almost once a week, usually on my way to get groceries or drop off stuff at the library (which is also a cool place because you get stuff for free…unless you’re me and you have a daughter with a wayward foot who accidentally stepped on the Thumbelina dvd and broke it in half…then it’s not free.) And while I know that many of you may not have a penchant for second-hand clothing and cast-off furniture, keep an open mind. I like to think of my favorite thrift excursions as treasure hunting. You know, an opportunity to find a diamond in the rough. So, I thought I’d take this opportunity to boast about some of my more recent gems. In so doing, maybe I’ll inspire some of you to venture into second-hand heaven and see what you come out with. Oh, and for those of you who are trying to go green, think of thrifting as the best kind of recycling. Here it goes:

* a $40 Southern Living at Home vase for just $10 (courtesy of my mom who I dragged along with me.)

* plates (I LOVE to hang plates on my walls!) for 50 cents each

*fabric to make bookshelf curtains for just $1 (to hide all my homeschool mess behind)

I am especially proud of this bookshelf “mistreatment.” You see, I do not sew…but I am armed and creative with some remnant fabric, trim, and a glue gun. I put these together in an hour and while they are rather unsightly from the back, from the front I am totally Martha Stewart (except I haven’t gone to jail.) Thank you, Nester, for showing me how to mistreat.

* the whole series of the Little House books for my daughter for $2 (and LOTS of other books for me, my hubby, and the kids)

* a fantastic old sewing table that I painted red and put in the nursery for $5
* a set of 3 brand new Ikea pillow covers for $1.50
* some super-cute and trendy black flats (like new) for $3
* a Barbie pool, complete with slide and resort deck for $1.50
* a faux Bamboo plant that looks totally real and graces my mantle for $3

* Ralph Lauren dress pants (like new) for my handsome hubby for $2.50
* 3 like new Banana Republic dress shirts for handsome hubby, also $2.50
* a JoS A Bank new with tags beautiful dress shirt for handsome hubby, $4

I could go on but maybe I’ll save some of my other treasures for another blog post. What’s my point? Actually, I’m not sure but something to the effect of: Never pay retail, work a weekly thrift store jaunt into your regular errands, and be willing to see the potential in things that may look a little ho-hum surrounded by junk, dust, and porcelain kitties. The thing about thrifting: it’s hit or miss. Sometimes I hit the jackpot. But for every one of those, I may have three excursions that yield little to nothing. Either way, I’m still getting out of the house and getting a break from laundry, diapers, and children. Thrifting allows me, a consummate shopper, to still be able to shop. Because right now, even a rendezvous with some of my former discount lovers like ROSS and T.J. Maxx are out of the question. (I love you R and T.J…please don’t hate me.)

Happy hunting!

My Favorite Dish

So what does the Frugal Foodie feed her family for dinner? First of all, let me say that I actually do love to cook and to bake but in this season of my life, I do not have the time, energy, or resources to put a meal on the table each night ripped from the pages of Bon Appetit. Here is my favorite easy, fairly frugal (b/c you can make it in bulk and have amazing leftovers), and relatively healthy recipe:

Salsa Chicken
* Desired amount of boneless, skinless chicken breasts or tenderloins
* Desired amount of jarred salsa
* Optional: canned diced tomatoes and/or black beans to supplement salsa

(Example ratio: I use a 2.5 lb bag of breasts or tenderloins, combined with 2 jars of salsa, 24 oz. or so, a can of diced tomatoes, & a can of black beans.) Dump ingredients in a crock pot or just a large saucepan on the stove. Cook chicken until done. Shred chicken.

Serve chicken mixture over rice with toppings of choice: cheese, sour cream, cilantro, avocado.

Definitely make plenty of this! It’s great leftover and you can even make two totally new meals from it. It’s fantastic as quesadilla or burrito meat. If you also have extra toppings, throw those in your quesadillas or burritos. Or, if you’re in the mood for a yummy, Mexican soup, try this: Take leftover chicken mixture, add some chicken broth or part broth / water depending on how much you have. Sprinkle in fresh cilantro, avocado, and a big scoop of leftover rice. You will have an amazing soup identical to the one my favorite local Mexican restaurant serves. Top soup with crunched up tortilla chips, shredded cheese, a dollop of sour cream, etc. But wait, there’s more…the men in my family love to use the leftover salsa chicken to make ultimate nachos! Layer chips, chicken mixture, cheese, and any other toppings you like.

And there you have it: One ridiculously easy dish served four different ways!

This recipe has become my signature dish. I take it to moms who have just had babies, serve it when we have guests, and make it for my family almost once a week. Bon Appetit!

The Frugal Foodie

If you know me, you know that I love an amazing bargain…on anything. I want to find the best deal on everything I purchase and that comes to groceries too. I’m sort of a goal-oriented person and in July I decided to set a crazy goal for my grocery budget that month: $275 for a family of five and that includes diapers and toiletries. A few disclaimers: we were gone for about a week of July (but that still leaves 25 days) and my kids do not yet eat tons of food. I am not a coupon nut (I simply don’t have the time) and I do not go to 5 different grocery stores shopping sales. I do clip some coupons and I use them from time to time but that is not how I have saved a lot of money. What’s my secret? A bit of planning, using what we have, preparing inexpensive meals, and shopping at a dive of a grocery store once a month.

It’s no secret; planning menus in advance saves us money, time, and stress. I am not known for being a good planner but it’s really not tough to write a week or two’s worth of meals on a dry-erase board. Second, shop your pantry, freezer, and fridge. What do you have? Got a random can of pumpkin? Look on the internet to find a recipe for pumpkin muffins using stuff you have. My kids love those for breakfast and snacks. Just this evening, I spied a few gnats hovering around 6 very ripe bananas. I mustered up the energy to throw together a double batch of banana oat muffins. (I always have flour, sugar, eggs, oil, etc. on hand so it’s a no-brainer.) Now my kids will have yummy and hearty muffins when they wake up in the morning. Got a can of tuna and a bag of egg noodles you’ve had for a year? Presto! You’ve got tuna noodle casserole for dinner. Have 2 cups of Bisquick in the cupboard? Have breakfast tonight. What kid doesn’t love pancakes for supper? I serve mine with some turkey bacon and fruit and you have a well-balanced meal. One of my favorite web-sites is supercook.com. You type in any ingredients you may have in your house and it spits out recipes for you. How cool is that? I have made many a new meal during lean times with rogue canned items, a bag of pinto beans, and the internet. Look at it as being resourceful and creative!

Third, don’t you just love those fancy grocery stores with bakeries, a cafe, calculators on the shopping carts? I do. But I never shop at those. My grocery haunts are Wal-Mart, Aldi, and a salvage grocery warehouse 25 minutes away that has ridiculous prices. On my last visit I got cans of chickpeas for 10 cents, canned pumpkin 4 for $1.00, and boxes of power bars for 99 cents. (Just to name a few of my bargains.) It’s sort of hit or miss. You never know exactly what they’ll have but if you don’t mind being flexible and making meals around the bargains you find, it’s great. This place is full of dented cans, health food items that the Kroger in Paducah, Kentucky just didn’t have the clientele for, and Hunts spaghetti sauce with Spanish labels. For me it’s a grand adventure and sort of a treasure hunt. I realize that not everyone is down with shopping that way but I sort of enjoy the “cultural experience” of it all. Oh and they play this hysterical old-time-religion gospel music really loud while you shop. It’s a riot. I’ve attached a picture from my latest trip…two carts of groceries (all that you see here) for just $118.

Well, I didn’t hit $275 but I did spend less than $300…and I still had a lot of things left that took me into August. Plus, my sweet hubby had been given a $25 Starbucks gift card at work (that he didn’t tell me about) so he saved it and surprised me with it as my reward at the end of the month. I slurped that gift card down in about 8 days…so sad.

Stay tuned for my next post where I’ll share recipes and talk about what I actually feed my family.

Top 20

Today is a lazy day for me as I enjoy some relative peace and quiet at my parents’ house. Cupcake is napping and Brownie is playing beside me. I’m reading my new Real Simple magazine and choosing not to feel guilty about it. This month’s question was: “What are the top-three things on your lifelong to-do list?” It got me thinking, “What are my top-three things?” Well, brevity is not my strong suit so I came up with 20 (in no particular order.)

1. Become fluent in French

2. Live abroad
3. Write a book (which presupposes that I have something meaningful to say and that others actually care about what I have to say…)

4. Run a marathon
5. Organize every square inch of my home
6. Have all my favorite photos scapbooked and documented
7. Make it to my 50th wedding anniversary
8. Travel cross country in an RV with my husband and kids for the summer, stopping at historic sites and kitschy tourist traps

9. Go to New York with my daughter to see Broadway shows

10. Take dance lessons: Ballroom, Swing, & Hip-Hop
11. Travel the world
12. Get my nose pierced
13. Sing a duet with Bono

14. Learn to sew
15. Take photography classes
16. Read ALL the hundreds of books on my “to read” list
17. Do short-term missions work with my husband and children
18. Hang-glide
19. Successfully educate my children
20. Live on the ocean

A fave from my family blog: “Today Screamed ‘Blog Me!'”

Monday I was Momzilla: edgy, cranky, screaming, impatient, anxiety-ridden, scary mom…able to level uncooperative children with a single glare, or at least a swat of my hand. (DSS, I hope you’re not reading this.) Anyway, I’m not sure why I was so evil but I was and I talked The Man about it and he determined two possible (non-pharmaceutical) remedies: more sleep and more prayer. So, I’ve been going to bed a bit earlier and he’s been praying for me more during the day. Plus Cupcake is getting back to his pre-vacation sleep habits so that’s helped.

Today I got up feeling fresh as a morning daisy. I was calm, patient, and even spoke to my children in that soothing June Cleaver like voice I so rarely posess. Brownie has swimming lessons every morning this week and next so getting 3 kids out of the house by 9:30 without being hauled off by DSS is no small thing. There are breakfasts to prepare, faces to clean, teeth to brush (on a good day), a baby to nurse and keep happy, bottoms to wipe, sunscreen to apply, the mother of all beach bags to pack, lunches to fix, water bottles to fill, a van to load, and most importantly coffee to make and pour into the sacred travel mug. There are so many little tasks that I had to make a packing list for each day just to make sure we’re good to go by 9:30. This morning was perfect! The children were cooperative and cheerful, I was organized and had everything and everyone smeared, packed, and loaded up by the appointed time. I was also sporting a new bathing suit and felt half-way decent for a 6-month post-partum, 35-year-old mother of 3. As I sipped french-pressed Starbucks from my stainless steel holy grail, I felt content, blessed, and oh-so good about myself. I was Supermom incarnate, a far cry from her arch-enemy, Momzilla, who had been slain less than 48 hours prior. Nothing could shake me or wrinkle my cape today.

Then my cell phone rang. It was my neighbor, CA, informing me that the swanky neighborhood pool where we have lessons was closed until noon because it had been treated the night before. As we’re brainstorming about options (we pay a private instructor by the hour but we provide the swim location, so time is money), my cell phone dies. Apparently my superpowers can’t bring a dead phone back to life and my alter ego, Absent-minded Mom, lost the car charger weeks ago. Momzilla probably crushed it. We arrive at the pool, trying to think of other options, calling directory assistance for other friends who have access to pools, and arranging make-up options with our instructor. Our kids are sunscreened, lunches are packed, and we’re in swimsuits…must find water. My aunt and uncle have a pool and it’s probably not in use, but I can’t call ahead because of dead cell phone. I say to CA, “We’ll just drive over there.” 10 minutes later, we arrive at their driveway, only to find the pool full of little kids for a pool party. Plan C. Let’s go to the local beach! It’s certainly not our first choice. Even though our lovely region is dotted with gorgeous lakes, this particular public access beach is, well, public access. All we can think however is, sunscreened kids, packed lunches, it’s hot, must find water.

The next part of the story is like something ripped from the pages of the Southern Redneck Handbook. For all you non-local readers, I live in the South not far from the city limits of a quaint college town. But my 10 minute distance from this quaint town is just enough to remind me, daily, that God indeed has a sense of humor. Those who know me well know that I am an urban wannabe. I regularly lament that I do not live in a major metropolitain area and I frequently imagine myself strolling the streets of Manhattan, far from the Confederate-flag-flying homesteads and stores selling Dixie Outfitters merchandise that dot my real-life commute to and from town. This cultural context is important for the rest of the story. We arrive at public access beach. I unload my minivan, load up the stroller, load the kids’ arms with the necessary items and trek to the water to meet CA and her kids. I unload the stroller, the kids, the towels, quilt and cooler. Ahh, we have finally arrived at a wet destination. Oh, I left out one part of the story: the beach was 10 minutes from my aunt and uncle’s pool and when I got within sight of the beach, there was bridge construction so I turned around and made the 10 minute detour allowing me to get to the other side of the bridge. The amazing part of our journey thus far is that Momzilla was still no where in sight. Supermom maintained grace, compusure, humor, and June’s voice through it all. I assumed that The Man must have been leading his Economics class in intercessory prayer during this whole time because such composure was indeed a miracle.

Back to public access beach. Everyone’s happy. Cupcake is sitting on my lap splashing in the water. He tried to put a rock in his mouth but Supermom was on it and saved the day. I notice Brownie nearby, pulling a sludge-covered dripping something out of the lake while remarking, “Hey, somebody left their sock in the lake. That’s silly,” and he threw the sock back in. A moment later something brushes up against my foot. I look down to see a clear tube, sort of like the kind one would employ for intravenous drug use. Only minutes later, my 5-year-old neighbor spots a band-aid floating just beneath the surface. And as if all of that wasn’t enough to remind me that I have landed on Planet White Trash, Brittney Spears’ twin and her string-bikini-clad friend walk by with their nasty dog and into the lake, only 20 feet from where my pure precious children are catching minnows in their lunchables containers. My 6-year-old neighbor tells CA, “Hey Mom, doesn’t that sign say ‘NO PETS ALLOWED’?” Apparently on Planet White Trash, small children can read better than celebrity look-alikes. The thought of my children swimming in canine fecal matter was simply the last straw. Supermom supressed her gag reflex and calmly loaded up the baby stroller caravan to get as far away from public access beach as possible. My stroller isn’t made for loose sand so I had to pop a stroller wheelie and heave poor screaming, sweating baby Cupcake and all our gear at least 100 yards back to the van. Just as Momzilla was about to make her appearance, my sweet Blondie observed my struggle and said, “Mommy, what can I do to help?” She pushed the stroller while I pulled it and as I fought back the tears, I thanked God for the abundant grace He poured out on me and my children this morning.

We journeyed back to homestead as the kids sang silly songs about talking strawberries and Cupcake laughed. CA and I told the kids we’d have a P.P. party on the deck. “Popsicles in the pool.” Our sweet kids piled in the giant kiddie pool on our tiny deck and had a ball. (Page 2 of the Southern Redneck Handbook: inflatable pools that all but exceed the size of one’s deck.) All I could do was marvel. I’m sure the lessons are many but here are just a few observations:

1. Motherhood is not for the fainthearted.
2. My attitude and response to stress or plans gone awry directly determines how my kids respond.
3. God’s grace and mighty power is for all of us. He meets us where we are. I realize I don’t “suffer” in the sense that many people do; I’m just an everday weary and inadequate mom begging for strength so I don’t lose it with my kids.
4. Sleep is huge.
5. God answers prayer and He daily provides what we need, whether it’s bread or just the ability to see the humor in the unplanned and maintain one’s gentleness, thereby keeping Momzilla at bay.

Sometimes I believe God’s greatest miracles are found in the day-to-day. Changed hearts. Renewed minds. A child’s creativity. My daughter’s ability to see I was struggling and her help (literally) to lighten the load.

Until next time…

About Me: The Unabridged Version

{Also known as the post where you learn more randomness than you ever wanted to know about me.}

I’m Marian {aka “Scooper”}. I love words, beauty, and funny people. I have been a wife for 17 years and a mom for 12. Once a history professor, I’m now a stay-at-home mom, having traded in a college classroom six years ago for five years of homeschooling my own kids around the kitchen table.

In December of 2011, we made the big decision to put our kids in public school. It’s been a welcome change for all of us and we vow to simply take things one year at a time.

You can find me reading, writing, taking pictures, sipping Starbucks, over-thinking everything, rearranging furniture, and not doing laundry. I write for many reasons but mostly because it’s cheaper than therapy. I joke about that but it’s the truth. Through blogging, this glass-half-empty girl spills thoughts one letter at a time until lemonade is squeezed from the lemons. It’s a serendipitous thing really, not at all the reason I started but the sweetest reward. Through my posts, I often find perspective.

………………………….

I think I blog partly because it’s the only thing in my life (of keeping home and teaching children) that stays finished. I don’t have to wash, sweep, or fold my blog countless times a day. Once I click “publish post,” I actually have something to show for my time. I like that.

I have many loves and an equal number of disclaimers. Here it goes…

I love fancy food and drink, though I’ve been known to feast on PB&J remnants from my kids’ plates.

I find great fulfillment in writing, though I remain ignorant of countless grammar rules. I also like to make up words.

I was a history professor until 6 years ago but I rarely know the correct answer to the esoteric history questions asked on Jeopardy or in Trivial Pursuit. I am not a history buff. I have never been to a re-enactment. While I enjoyed 14 years of university life as a student and a professor, I now consider myself a recovering academic.

I adore books but I’m usually reading about 17 at a time resulting in an embarrasingly low completion rate.

I’m a fan of all things “girly”: make-up, fashion, hair, etc…but confess that on most days I am sporting yoga pants (though I don’t do yoga), unchanged running clothes, a pony-tail, and a face that’s lucky to get Chap-stick & mascara.

I describe myself as an introvert disguised in an outgoing personality. {Classic INFJ.} I love people yet crave solitude, in part because I can’t take a shower or go to the restroom without being interrupted by tiny humans or a dog who always need something as soon as I close the bathroom door.

I’m the only person I know who is equally inspired by make-up and History. I actually own a book entitled, The Cultural History of Lipstick. For real.

I will admit to loving smart people, thoughtful books, and great journalism. But I can also devour three People magazines in one sitting while on vacation. And I get school-girl giddy for televised red carpet events. I may or may not covertly watch Entertainment Tonight when my kids aren’t in the room.

Laughing is a drug for me and I’m crazy for people who are funny. Ironically, I have a tendency to take myself and life in general much too seriously.

Ever the bargain junkie, I actually don’t mind living a frugal-ish life. But, I have been known to blow money on crazy thrift store kitsch and forget to mail in valuable rebate coupons. My husband jokes that I could write a book called How To Go Broke $1 At A Time.

A clean, organized and orderly home makes me happier than it should. Currently, however, a 7-year-old’s half-written story, jewelry beads, pre-school workbooks, an iPod, hair clips, fruit puffs, a dismembered Polly Pocket, the newspaper, a dish towel and a bowl of half-eaten pasta graces the kitchen table where I’m writing. Such disarray is an accurate reflection of the general state of affairs here.

I have never gotten a tattoo, ripped my jeans {on purpose,} or sported funky hair. But at 36, I pierced my nose, something I’d inexplicably wanted to do for 10 years. My nose, however, {quite set in its ways after 36 years of minding its own business} didn’t like it and I kept snagging the tiny jewel on towels and tissues. Goodbye, nose ring. Hello conformity {and common sense.} I’m still kind of sad about it.

As I mentioned earlier, I home-schooled for nearly 5 years and then abruptly did the unthinkable: sent my kids to public school. They love school. I love the quiet. Sometimes the “real” collides with the ideal and sometimes that’s for the best. I’ve learned to never say never and to hold all plans loosely.

I always wanted a career, a husband, and a family {in that order.} But I fell in love with a charming boy I met my freshman year of college and we started dating two years later. Three months after we graduated, I married him. I’m convinced he’s the only man on the planet who could put up with me. Marriage has been hard {we are, after all, strong-willed first-borns} but God has been faithful. The charming boy is still my best friend and he is still irresistably charming. Marrying him is one of the smartest things I ever did.

Growing up as a pastor’s kid, I was in church every time the doors were opened. You might think that skeptical notions about faith and God and truth would have not an ounce of non-conformist air to breathe in a churchy upbringing like that. My heart, however, has a fierce will of its own and has forever been the heart of a skeptic. Faith does not come naturally and my “story” from belief to unbelief and back to belief is simply a testimony to God’s irresistible grace.

On any given day I still look to people and circumstances for happiness and personal peace. I often trade pleasure for joy and reason for faith. I’m immensely grateful for a God who delights to pursue, longs to forgive, loves without limits, and never gives up, even on a crazy skeptic like me.