sweet.mercy.no.

The other day as I was walking into the kitchen I noticed how dirty the
door frame was.
As if a small trail of dirty hand prints had smeared the entire
length of it from floor to ceiling. Make that a trail of 6 dirty hands.
Which is quite possibly the case.
So I got out the Chlorox wipes and went to work removing layer after
layer of dirt. The paint was noticeably lighter and seemed happier.
Until I got to one speck of dirt that would not be wiped clean.
And I realized I was not dealing with a speck of dirt but with
some type of dried bodily fluid that had come from the nose of
one of my children.
It was cemented to the wall.
"EWWWWWWW! GROSSSSSSSSS!"
You should know that I immediately become a jr. high girl in
the presence of anything disgusting.
Will was just walking into the room and said, "What, Mom?"
"Will, someone is wiping their boogers on the wall. It is disgusting. It is so gross.
This what tissues are for....TISSUEs. We DO NOT wipe our noses on the wall."
I pierced him with the evil eye, "Will, are you wiping your boogers on the wall."
He grinned as he walked past me and said, "No, Mom, I wipe my boogers on the furniture."
And so goes the life of the mom of three boys.

hopeful

This morning in that half way haze between sleep and wakefulness,
I was mulling over all of the things that have been weighing on me.
Work. Writing. The boys. Summer plans. New opportunities. Relationships.
I'm a ponderer. Or if I am honest, a worrier.
You should know that the blessing and the curse of a writer's brain is an overactive imagination.
When uncertainty arises, I can tend to think the worst might happen....
when in fact the best could happen.
Last night, talking things over the things I have been worried about with Scott,
he looked at me with compassion and said,
"Sue, you have got to start telling yourself the truth.
You have got to start telling yourself a different story."
The man is a rock. Let's just be honest.
In the face of problems or fear, he brings truth and usually some comic relief.
Because he loves me. He wants me settled in a place of peace.
Mostly, because he knows if Mama ain't happy....ain't nobody happy.
It is to his advantage to have me embracing truth and laughter.
So back to my pondering this morning.
A scripture came to my mind as I was laying in bed,
Psalm 39:7.
I pulled my Bible from the dresser.
It was already underlined along with the date February 1991.
The words of David read,
"But now, Lord, what do I look for? My hope is in you."
Clearly, in 1991, I was in need of the same words that I was in need of today.
It is is the best verse, isn't it?
A reminder verse. Like David has had a morning of anxious pondering himself
and he is remembering who is on his side, saying, (sue paraphrase)
"What in the world am I worried about, God? How could I forget?
I find all my answers in you!"
We do that. We forget. But God in his mercy reminded me again today
where my hopes belong. In Him.
So I have decided to mull that over, instead of worrying about things that are
out of my control.
Because He loves me. And He wants me settled in a place of peace.
That is enough to make Mama happy....and hopeful.

i'm not down with the granny arms

When I hurt my back 2 years ago, I stopped lifting things.
Because lifting things would send a shooting pain down my back and
lay me out flat and have me calling out on the name of Jesus.
Scott has been the go to guy for all heavy lifting.
My back has stopped hurting now. (Thank you, Jesus!)
But the telltale signs of  2 non-lifting years are all there.
My arms tells the sad, flabby tale of a back injury.
I used to have some nice mommy  arms.
The kind of arms that are ever moving, holding small people,
picking up large baskets of laundry and lugging bags of potting soil to the back yard.
Gone are the firm arm muscles that I scored lifting large children for years.
In their place are some well rounded, soft and pliable arms.
Sad arms. Squishy arms. Granny arms.
When I go to wave at someone,
there is a gentle slope of skin that droops from the bottom of
my underarm to the top of my elbow.
And it continues to wave long after I have finished.
Addison told me yesterday as he squeezed my arm,
"Mom, I love your chubby arms."
He is the only one who does.
And so I am embarking on a new arm regimen.
I have toning exercises that are going to help me.....
I may even try a push up or two.
It's on, folks.
I'm bringing sexy back. Okay, no, I'm not.
I don't actually know where sexy lives so that I could bring it back.
But I'm ready to say good-bye to the grandma arms and to say
hello to some nice muscle tone.
I may even start picking up laundry baskets again.
Just don't tell Scott.

it's time to start embarrassing the children

The other day, the boys and I were driving in the car.
We now engage in the music wars when we drive.
The boys want to listen to Radio Disney.
I want to listen to.....not Radio Disney.
I have nothing against Radio Disney...I actually enjoy it....
except for the fact that all the songs
that I know the lyrics to are sung by Taylor Swift and One Direction.
I know this is hard to believe but I am not 13.
It feels awkward to be singing at the top of my lungs,
I knew you were trouble when you walked in...
Shame on me now....Flew me to places I'd never been.....
Now I'm lying on the cold hard ground....
Oh....trouble....trouble....trouble....
(You thought I was joking...I'm not...I know the lyrics...
they are catchy....I'm not going to lie....)
Pulling out of Costco parking lot, I put in The Band Perry and the boys all groaned.
And I started singing. Loudly.
Because I enjoy a good country tune.
As we pulled up to a stoplight, Jack said,
"Mom, look."
I turned mid-song to see that he had rolled the window
down so that the lady in the SUV next to us could hear my enthusiastic singing.
She was looking straight ahead but had a very large smile on her face.
Jack was dying laughing.
I sang softer. In more of a whisper.
And then I started laughing.
He got me good.
But it also got me thinking....
I may need to show up at lunch time at his school and
give a parking lot concert for all of his friends singing Taylor's new song...
Hey, I don't know about you but I'm feeling 22
Everything will be all right if you keep me next to you!
I'm thinking of adding sequins and choreography.
I think that should take care of the problem.

prayers on the wing

No one in my family will sit next to me in a movie.
I become emotionally involved with the story and yell things at the screen.
Years ago, during a tense scene in Air Force One when Harrison Ford was struggling,
I yelled out, "Jesus, help him."
Scott leaned over and said, "Quit bothering Jesus. He has real prayers he needs to listen to."
It didn't matter that it was a fictional tale....it felt real to me.
I often find myself praying out loud as I watch the news.
As I have watched of the footage of the Boston Marathon unfold these past few days
I can't help thinking those were just regular folks who were out to have the best day of their life.
They were expecting a celebration with their family and friends at the finish line not a tragedy.
Instead they are  reeling from an senseless, violent, evil act.
And we are reeling with them. Because that is what we as humans do.
Their story in some way becomes our story.
We weep along with the families who have lost a child, a sister, a son, a daughter.
We rejoice together at the goodness that we see in our fellow man
as people ran towards chaos to help those who were wounded.
We stand shoulder to shoulder with them in spirit as they move forward to heal and recover.
And we pray.
We cry out on their behalf, "Jesus, help them."
Because He is the one who can comfort, who can heal, who can restore.
In these next weeks as their stories are played out on network news,
I am going to try hard not to be overwhelmed by the horror of what has happened.
I am going to let my soul lift with hope at each act of kindness and courage and
goodness that played out that day.
And I am going to see each news story as a sovereign opportunity to pray.
To talk to Jesus about these people that He loves so much.
To ask for his healing, his grace and peace to intervene in their chaos and to ask
Him to enfold them with his great love, wiping  away their tears and healing their hearts.
It is what He does best.

it is a month of celebration I Blame Eve giveaway

I honestly can't believe that we have rounded the corner on April.
Wasn't it just New Years?
But I am not going to lie...I'm not sad to see March go.
It was one of those "oh-sweet-Jesus-please-see-me-through" type of months.
You know the type.....
1 out of town trip, 2 rounds of edits due, 1 eye infection,
1 case of hives and an allergic reaction, 3 trips to the emergency room,
1 round of steroids, 1 birthday party for a Addison,
1 birthday sleepover for Jack and 7 of his buddies,
(clearly, the steroids affected my thinking in okaying this pre-teen extravaganza),
Easter Sunday, (threat of rain and thunder storms causes sleepless nights
at the thought of having 30 children caught outside in an electrical storm during
our Easter lesson at the park).
But here we are alive and well, kissing March good-bye.
Easter was amazing! Not a drop of rain hit the ground until our service was over.
The sun is shining. The birds are singing. And the irises are coming up in my front yard.
So we are celebrating. Big time!
I Blame Eve: 
Freedom from Perfectionism, 
Control Issues and the Tendency to Listen to Talking Snakes
marks its 1 year anniversary this week.

And the Tired Supergirl blog is celebrating its 6 year birthday.
(We are not having a sleepover party for the blog....I learned my lesson.)

But we are giving away 2 copies of I Blame Eve each week for the month of April.

Leave your name and e-mail in the comments for a chance to win a copy.

Blog about it, Tweet about it, or Share this link on Facebook and leave your
links in the comments for extra chances to win! (4 chances in all!)

Winners will be announced each Friday.
All I have to say is, Hello, lovely April!
We are so glad you are here!

Good Friday is our best day

I know why most people go with the whole idea of bunnies and eggs on Easter.
At least, I know why I do.
It is because the spilled blood of the cross feels more like Halloween.
It's dark and terrible.
We find the crucifixion unnerving. Unpalatable. Too much.
We feel weird drawing attention to all that blood and cruelty and pain.
We want to hurry past the horror of Golgotha to the miracle of Easter.
We love Jesus, dressed in white, surrounded by golden glory, risen and triumphant.
The thought of him wreathed in darkness, head bowed, pain-wracked, gasping for air,
leaves us squirming.
But we only truly honor Jesus when we realize that our freedom,
our joy, our hope, our peace, comes at the cost of his pain.
To skim over his suffering negates the power and the breadth and the depth of what He did.
He thought all the pain, the torment, the horror of the cross was worth going through.....
For us. You and me.
He knew we couldn't set ourselves free.
But he was pierced for our transgressions.
He knew we were stuck in sin, headed toward a lonely path of our own destruction.
We all, like sheep, have gone astray, each of us turned to our own way.
It's what we do when left to our own devices....we ruin ourselves.
He knew we were a mess, inside and out.
He knew that only He could do what needed to be done.
Surely he took up our pain and bore our suffering,
Only He could bridge the chasm between a sinful people and a holy God.
He poured out his life unto death and was numbered with the transgressors
Only He could wrench us free from the grip of the evil one.
He was oppressed and afflicted, yet he did not open his mouth.
Only He could pry us from the dark hold of selfishness
and the insatiable appetites that sin unleashed in us.
He was crushed for our iniquities
Death was coming one way or another.
It was either us or Jesus.
He was led like a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep before the shearer's is silent,
so he did not open his mouth.
He saw the hopeless faces of sin sick humanity down through the ages
and said to his Father,
"I can't help myself. I love them. I'll go. Let me save them."
For he bore the sins of many and made intercession for the transgressors.
yet we considered him punished by God, stricken by him and afflicted.
He was the only one who could bring life and wholeness to our dying spirits.
The punishment that brought us peace was upon him.
Only He could heal the seeping wounds in our souls and our troubled minds.
By his wounds, we are healed.
Surely, Good Friday, Jesus' worst day, is our best day.
It was the day that the gap was breached between heaven and hell.
The day that Jesus relinquished everything...his power, his will, his last breath,
so that we could have life and have it to the full.
So that from here on out, we can fill the skies with the praise of what He has done for us
So that from here on out, we can love him back with everything that is within us.
Heart. Mind. Soul. And Spirit.
Let's not, today of all days, hold anything back.

(scripture taken from Isaiah 53)