tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37361220135396638952024-02-20T21:17:06.343-08:00confessions of a tired supergirlsusannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10793027318859627527noreply@blogger.comBlogger909125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3736122013539663895.post-1502593895131369842021-09-03T10:26:00.018-07:002021-09-05T06:48:15.739-07:00Hold on to your heart, Mama, another little bird has flown ...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV1UrOCgqDBHKYYUMg6RtVZgLYo38oo2JGRXhfHnKIiYJc9e9KZMNvieelr_yM55pBSM2-6ACavYUd9x4OcTYoHfL1c92SYvU2_vpMx5zBBXgudiERq5lBzKii89th1Nn5OOlUr6ufJh41/s940/Hold+on+to+your+Heart%252C+Mama.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="788" data-original-width="940" height="335" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV1UrOCgqDBHKYYUMg6RtVZgLYo38oo2JGRXhfHnKIiYJc9e9KZMNvieelr_yM55pBSM2-6ACavYUd9x4OcTYoHfL1c92SYvU2_vpMx5zBBXgudiERq5lBzKii89th1Nn5OOlUr6ufJh41/w400-h335/Hold+on+to+your+Heart%252C+Mama.png" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>This last week, my son, Will, and I loaded up a rental van with all of his wordly possessions and started the trek from Meridian, Idaho, to Azusa, California. </p><p>Since Scott and my youngest son, Addison, weren't able to join the pilgrimage, we used every square inch of space for his mini-fridge that he bought off of his oldest brother, Jack, his keyboard, his guitar, his ukulele, and of course, his foam mattress pad. Because dorm room beds are notoriously uncomfortable and sleep is precious to teenage boys.</p><p>I say 'teenage boy' because Will is 18. But really he is a fully formed young man. </p><p>My beautiful, funny, curly-headed, blue-eyed boy is grown. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJXRHC_gOjWjracWJB-AxW_TTJJU8_vaVGP0n0m4fbohYfWcya1jGw-8-QNAsrWAljGiJ2ujXpfaQSkV1nim-cLmyguLLvcpj2jwdA_f9_qXD7UXWHDQDHGQcPcGSNFaJt1My7R971f6w8/s640/scott+and+will.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJXRHC_gOjWjracWJB-AxW_TTJJU8_vaVGP0n0m4fbohYfWcya1jGw-8-QNAsrWAljGiJ2ujXpfaQSkV1nim-cLmyguLLvcpj2jwdA_f9_qXD7UXWHDQDHGQcPcGSNFaJt1My7R971f6w8/s320/scott+and+will.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeRIyfCyDxb5xro5XHclqjgimW3d_mAh7Iv9dPF_9HGCnj-LNycgsXNCNrOrx20CgJyevv2U0RZpTUzp-QSSBhiza7ijOjK4tO-bj2k5rCbcc3P-kw-Ihlsenkmp7vMKwPgyp7cpTqnLSn/s480/cutie.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="480" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeRIyfCyDxb5xro5XHclqjgimW3d_mAh7Iv9dPF_9HGCnj-LNycgsXNCNrOrx20CgJyevv2U0RZpTUzp-QSSBhiza7ijOjK4tO-bj2k5rCbcc3P-kw-Ihlsenkmp7vMKwPgyp7cpTqnLSn/s320/cutie.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3cKOkOyVwb_rIji5Yb3Vh3d7jVC8vho5KVYGPVQHa2UK8vOl1_g5uVuCF0mSFLz_rMFqaAlFwBosRDgG41_tFar8MOM_aypiCQ4Ej8CNzZfKVl8KgG-AwtG9D3YdiCLsJAlZJtwjeYCHZ/s480/gangstas.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="343" data-original-width="480" height="229" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3cKOkOyVwb_rIji5Yb3Vh3d7jVC8vho5KVYGPVQHa2UK8vOl1_g5uVuCF0mSFLz_rMFqaAlFwBosRDgG41_tFar8MOM_aypiCQ4Ej8CNzZfKVl8KgG-AwtG9D3YdiCLsJAlZJtwjeYCHZ/s320/gangstas.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3daDiGBZ-G0L3Jup8diQBdVb8Zy8QBy0nCt8OGZFidF92tcY4hblxDPRa22sWxbYYoS6Zjpw5U25hwMKYtDDjZ1f_owK_vg2hKqrKRDCVmoJT3deL559abVFUukDGYxsVIpz9BidpD4eh/s720/middle+school.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="540" data-original-width="720" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3daDiGBZ-G0L3Jup8diQBdVb8Zy8QBy0nCt8OGZFidF92tcY4hblxDPRa22sWxbYYoS6Zjpw5U25hwMKYtDDjZ1f_owK_vg2hKqrKRDCVmoJT3deL559abVFUukDGYxsVIpz9BidpD4eh/s320/middle+school.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4i8b3b-oJPgwz8qcDoLMvDk1rJ_BjYRvJ_xc9qFrDho7qtwuX8i2YJ3x9dQBSU60TIy8U-9VKeijvjA7_epkQP9Ig7IebB5dnQaF6QMaAakbgXZi80_GL5gTi_2w_o89S6ieN458wh8EL/s720/hawaii.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="540" data-original-width="720" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4i8b3b-oJPgwz8qcDoLMvDk1rJ_BjYRvJ_xc9qFrDho7qtwuX8i2YJ3x9dQBSU60TIy8U-9VKeijvjA7_epkQP9Ig7IebB5dnQaF6QMaAakbgXZi80_GL5gTi_2w_o89S6ieN458wh8EL/s320/hawaii.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglTfflqy3Wmfy1jHEf7ebFQJQIoJjkBsQbngKkIILqpe0SAmDZ4p6KR7qLyDHkaH-GbcUmmUYZKjG6uUo2MDaDTqiUeEkdRDtR0SsttmTih2Ca6RKpqhq6sAR6ed3gtCDe-m-xSNmeCPZY/s640/soccer.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="361" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglTfflqy3Wmfy1jHEf7ebFQJQIoJjkBsQbngKkIILqpe0SAmDZ4p6KR7qLyDHkaH-GbcUmmUYZKjG6uUo2MDaDTqiUeEkdRDtR0SsttmTih2Ca6RKpqhq6sAR6ed3gtCDe-m-xSNmeCPZY/s320/soccer.jpg" width="181" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj61ZoiPr1HoEUwWvNMZ8q99QeDhoJILp4KiGnIgL-yMlGLQZ_jZ0B2QcTc_W5KCyXmgq2Eol6woTV9mzMc6ZnvoRe4zOC4Hs9QhzyMCgxN4PoowVrZ1WYbY03JL1VD-5-pIK9KmVcS7xiu/s640/senior+will.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj61ZoiPr1HoEUwWvNMZ8q99QeDhoJILp4KiGnIgL-yMlGLQZ_jZ0B2QcTc_W5KCyXmgq2Eol6woTV9mzMc6ZnvoRe4zOC4Hs9QhzyMCgxN4PoowVrZ1WYbY03JL1VD-5-pIK9KmVcS7xiu/s320/senior+will.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>I have known this day has been coming all year long since I dropped Will off for the first day of his senior year of high school. There have been all the high point markers along the way. Senior retreat. Senior prank day. Senior pictures. Senior breakfast. And the culmination of all the great events - graduation.<br /><p>I loved seeing him walk proudly down the aisle in his maroon cap and gown. Head held high.</p><p>And I loved hearing him sing Philip Philipp's <i>Home </i>with his senior class. </p><p>The plucking of the guitar in that song reminds me of when Will holes up in his room creating and recording songs. </p><p>And then when Will got his diploma and strutted back down the aisle, our entire family cheered like he had won the World Cup. In our eyes, he had. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRB7taK-8ynhM1PQfU71CzH2iMX4W4lT_-U4k6Zy-lDzbJqdib6MQaHL_2Z3sSiYpOWIW1qhFfB1IBxX8Pw6_M3qs-D32nVozgPUwhBGKJ9D5-KRKQ-P57KZpntFlHbwHf3n7CjvFazWZB/s480/grad+announcement.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="344" data-original-width="480" height="229" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRB7taK-8ynhM1PQfU71CzH2iMX4W4lT_-U4k6Zy-lDzbJqdib6MQaHL_2Z3sSiYpOWIW1qhFfB1IBxX8Pw6_M3qs-D32nVozgPUwhBGKJ9D5-KRKQ-P57KZpntFlHbwHf3n7CjvFazWZB/s320/grad+announcement.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgNsr_upiwoeJtbwfstc4gUQOB0ueL5cwVzCXNUxJ0O5eAmDPmiyrxZ4A6OVmu2OMmkWzu3zuKr6h3EGArZ9j1St5lRMDgBYIQxfebEkHWMFae3Tfxfg8hlOnkprfq8P1pLjBQmBtINx7L/s2048/the+walk.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgNsr_upiwoeJtbwfstc4gUQOB0ueL5cwVzCXNUxJ0O5eAmDPmiyrxZ4A6OVmu2OMmkWzu3zuKr6h3EGArZ9j1St5lRMDgBYIQxfebEkHWMFae3Tfxfg8hlOnkprfq8P1pLjBQmBtINx7L/s320/the+walk.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9gASUo9FgNxSa4pDGfRfProqtuLWW5hgUbaRuE0IJwyv48zP4dlvIzFgxXLMxIJLc48ecWvD14ms_zar2z1xpULqA0bUS_Avl8GMQWTHBkeccN7QekbYzMzZv3e80gDkjW5iK1lYQXiaZ/s1280/grad.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="960" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9gASUo9FgNxSa4pDGfRfProqtuLWW5hgUbaRuE0IJwyv48zP4dlvIzFgxXLMxIJLc48ecWvD14ms_zar2z1xpULqA0bUS_Avl8GMQWTHBkeccN7QekbYzMzZv3e80gDkjW5iK1lYQXiaZ/s320/grad.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjLsvJ1XXXwoBBP_gUQwDUgmrpBifV3Up7HtWTZERddkL4ZPiUlPufV-Gf2m-Unb9f1jfJY8OvxYVxIJNumx9kxbUGGPIv0cYsJqpvmBV7xy9q3qrADhI7TeA7sS5xE7adNqFCyn3Y_obZ/s1200/fam+bam.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1200" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjLsvJ1XXXwoBBP_gUQwDUgmrpBifV3Up7HtWTZERddkL4ZPiUlPufV-Gf2m-Unb9f1jfJY8OvxYVxIJNumx9kxbUGGPIv0cYsJqpvmBV7xy9q3qrADhI7TeA7sS5xE7adNqFCyn3Y_obZ/s320/fam+bam.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><br /><p></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>He had conquered his senior year. The craziest senior year of all with a world wide pandemic upending all normalcy. There was good reason to cheer.</p><p>But I haven't been able to write about any of it. </p><p>Because every time I sat down to write, it has felt too big to wrangle. </p><p>My brain refused to come up with quips and stories and memories that have charted Will's course. </p><p>Maybe I thought if I didn't write about it, it would make it less true.</p><p>The inevitable was coming. Will was leaving.</p><p>The funny thing about kids leaving is that it just doesn't feel right.</p><p>When Jack, our oldest, left two years ago, it ripped my heart right out and left me raw.</p><p>It has been a slow mending of mixed heartache and joy watching him wend his way in the world.</p><p>I am inexplicably proud. I just really miss his face. Man, I love that guy.</p><p>And now here we are 2 years later, and Will is joining Jack at school.</p><p>Which is an amazing miracle of God's provision and grace. </p><p>But still. There is that whole dumb thing about actually going away to college.</p><p>So dumb.</p><p>Because that means I won't get to see him every day. Or get to squeeze his hand. Or give him hugs. Or hear him laughing or yelling at his friends playing video games. Or listen to his latest song that he has composed. Or just sense that easy joy that Will brings into the room when he walks in. </p><p>Man, I love that guy.</p><p>Will and I made the 14 hour drive in two days, stopping overnight in Vegas.</p><p>We had a full Welcome Weekend experience when we arrived in Southern California. Cheering students welcomed us with posters as we drove on campus. There was the President's Picnic. Eating with all the incoming freshman. Walking through the Azusa Gate. The next time he passes through the gate he will be a graduate. Candela. A candle lit celebration of light commissioning the students to be the light of the world. So many good things. </p><p>But, sweet mercy, those thoughtful moments tend to put you on an emotional rollercoaster that leaves you dehydrated and laid out by the end of the weekend. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlUSvEJ-SdMCQx_wRQfa1rt2_Um_4e582SFzTeh46rOiIRXrzI_sGDTXdoe9viUO3YO9VCfY8-nEZozPqI_wOpEDgr6y5vDcRxRKGmkG374p6C6uuYkWkbu3lzL9JtAYfg4Amm_E65z9-_/s640/Dorm+life.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlUSvEJ-SdMCQx_wRQfa1rt2_Um_4e582SFzTeh46rOiIRXrzI_sGDTXdoe9viUO3YO9VCfY8-nEZozPqI_wOpEDgr6y5vDcRxRKGmkG374p6C6uuYkWkbu3lzL9JtAYfg4Amm_E65z9-_/s320/Dorm+life.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCToRaHW28RJnuUcnQxC6NIUH8adEdFma9WjcvDth_pRXP_LD0eLpnk1jIu2XJf47F_uUWs8OCrAAi2JfhNn84mTbAxhcbFx1yfPfIqbyLCbB7K6LSqYBabpqBiWx5fdRfLYMUuQTvR0md/s1600/guys.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCToRaHW28RJnuUcnQxC6NIUH8adEdFma9WjcvDth_pRXP_LD0eLpnk1jIu2XJf47F_uUWs8OCrAAi2JfhNn84mTbAxhcbFx1yfPfIqbyLCbB7K6LSqYBabpqBiWx5fdRfLYMUuQTvR0md/s320/guys.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><br /><p></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>It was so fun to get to see Will enjoying the experience. He let me go along for the ride. We ate together even when he was hanging out with his friends. We walked the campus together. I waited outside the building when he had his music audition and got the blow by blow with Scott listening over the phone, hearing how he had to perform one of his songs and sight read sheet music in front of 4 faculty members. The kid has guts. </p><p>His kindness buffeted the coming blows. </p><p>I think he sensed I was on the verge of some kind of maternal collapse.</p><p>Saturday night, the night before I would be leaving, was rough.</p><p>And by rough, I mean, all the tears that I had stored up Senior Year, decided they needed to get out before I met up with Will in the morning. I woke up all through out the night finding tears streaming down my face and dampening my pillow. I couldn't shake the sadness. </p><p>Scripture says that weeping may endure for the night but joy comes in the morning. </p><p>Helpful Hint: If you can't find the joy, cold washcloth compresses on your eyeballs can at least alleviate some of the puffiness. Don't even think about trying to wear contacts.</p><p>Sunday morning there was a school-wide chapel service. This is the last event before Azusa tells all the parents very kindly and very firmly, "You need to go home now and let your kids get on with it."</p><p>They end the chapel by handing out pieces of chalk. You are supposed to go outside and make a circle of chalk on the sidewalk, write your family members name in it, and then stand around the circle and pray for your student.</p><p>It is a compelling moment. But I knew that if Will and I circled up, I would most likely collapse weeping into the circle, cause a scene, and Will would be forced to abandon me in the auditorium plaza.</p><p>There is only so much that a mom can handle.</p><p>I texted Will from my hotel room, "Do you want to go to the service? Or just go to breakfast?"</p><p>He texted back, "Breakfast, just you and me."</p><p>Bless him.</p><p>When I texted Scott that we skipped service, he said,"I can't believe he just got there and you already encouraged him to skip chapel."</p><p>I texted back. "He's a pastor's kid. He has a couple extra services in his back pocket. He'll be fine."</p><p>Will and I went to IHOP. We ate pancakes and talked.</p><p>He filled me in on his first night of dorm life and meeting some of the guys on his hall. </p><p>We talked about his upcoming classes and figuring out where they were on campus.</p><p>Then he asked me, "Mom, have you even cried at all?"<br /></p><p>I told him, "Last night was hard. I cried a lot. But Will, I don't want to cry with you. I am so excited for you. This is such an awesome time for you!"</p><p>Well.</p><p>Then we got back into the car and Will asked me if I wanted to listen to some of his songs on the way back to campus.</p><p>He had DJed for us our entire trip down. </p><p>He put on my favorite song of his. It was quite possibly my undoing.</p><p>As we crossed the street before turning onto campus, the floodgates opened, and I started to ugly cry.</p><p>This was it. That heart-wrenching moment that all moms experience when they realize that they have worked themselves right out of their favorite job: momming. Loving on those people that you birthed and seeing them through to adulthood. </p><p>Will patted my shoulder saying, "You're okay. You're okay. But can you drive? Because you are blinking SO MUCH."</p><p>We pulled up behind his dorm and he hopped out. I put my head on his shoulder and cried into his neck.</p><p>It doesn't seem that long ago that he was that tiny boy who cried into my neck.</p><p>I told him that I was proud of him. That I knew he would do great. And that I loved him.</p><p>He squeezed me and said, "I love you, too, Mom."</p><p>And then he turned and walked into his dorm. Into his new life. </p><p>I thought that maybe saying good-bye to my second boy wouldn't be as hard.</p><p>Maybe my heart would have grown more used to the wrench of loosing my life from that of the beautiful boys that I love.</p><p>Nope. Not at all.</p><p>It was just as gross as the first time.</p><p>Addison, our youngest, senses this and is already worried.</p><p>But here is the thing.</p><p>When I asked Will earlier in the weekend what his favorite thing about his time at school was so far, he thought for a moment and then said, "The freedom."</p><p>There it is.</p><p>Will is ready to soar. I could see it in his face. I could hear it in his voice.</p><p>I am thankful that I got to hold him close for so many years. I will neither confirm or deny that I want to yank him right back into the nest. I may or may not be requiring some tissue right now as I write. (I'm not crying. You're crying.)</p><p>But Will is ready to find his way into the world. </p><p>And this is a good thing. Because the world needs more of Will in it. His light. His joy. His kindness. His loyalty towards those he loves. His love of small children and all animals. His songs. His quick wit and boundless creativity. And his thoughtful way of looking at life.</p><p>I am praying that Will senses the great, immense love of Jesus buoying him as he takes flight. </p><p>That Will leans into His goodness and grace when struggles abound and that he finds His comfort and hope when he faces heartache. And that he is filled with a sense of purpose and creativity as Jesus leads him on this new journey. </p><p>Go with Jesus, Will...and don't forget to text your mom. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKjVB6Ve4GPRxRU-ipfECpYV5BqGvnqiZSdNQJ9sF7OJHvGsQaOblk70m-jctsVdMrGQSgdBXOwebzsCkzS30SWssbv7IDfeqRNZLyom7RSnU3b8Ji_sS9sh9enawAsDRDP3OEEBAhR1fe/s480/will+and+me.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="480" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKjVB6Ve4GPRxRU-ipfECpYV5BqGvnqiZSdNQJ9sF7OJHvGsQaOblk70m-jctsVdMrGQSgdBXOwebzsCkzS30SWssbv7IDfeqRNZLyom7RSnU3b8Ji_sS9sh9enawAsDRDP3OEEBAhR1fe/w400-h300/will+and+me.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYxHLXH87GTOKXuPCM18WGi_F6_u8CsGJ2rKdpmHyCe1msEtg3y-DnVY6RR1mS9HmAesLwNyS6sOYD4vVujoauPEHKw6106T9R7yHvRDGVw7IWFc8fB4vGZVLLC18KdqijMz0E36qczgjA/s851/susanna+foth+aughtmon+is+a+writer%252C+speaker+and+dark+chocolate+lover..jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="315" data-original-width="851" height="148" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYxHLXH87GTOKXuPCM18WGi_F6_u8CsGJ2rKdpmHyCe1msEtg3y-DnVY6RR1mS9HmAesLwNyS6sOYD4vVujoauPEHKw6106T9R7yHvRDGVw7IWFc8fB4vGZVLLC18KdqijMz0E36qczgjA/w400-h148/susanna+foth+aughtmon+is+a+writer%252C+speaker+and+dark+chocolate+lover..jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br />susannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10793027318859627527noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3736122013539663895.post-22928354784633067322021-06-29T11:35:00.003-07:002021-06-29T11:35:35.550-07:00Warning to Farmers, Toddlers, and Hipsters: You Might Not Want to Wear Overalls On Your First Flight after COVID...just sayin<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyhIXk1q0b8zCzGyHiduqkEIFZzwn4w02CEyXAgg7Sn-a_hGzI11Fc-mxzAIDNgmURF8FErkEGqagdDROubTd6oTB3GYrmg_o0HN1vSe0a60a4RqPrVqXFUZ8fUqRoK2l3a-e-YsZKDMqF/s1640/Warning+to+Farmers.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="924" data-original-width="1640" height="306" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyhIXk1q0b8zCzGyHiduqkEIFZzwn4w02CEyXAgg7Sn-a_hGzI11Fc-mxzAIDNgmURF8FErkEGqagdDROubTd6oTB3GYrmg_o0HN1vSe0a60a4RqPrVqXFUZ8fUqRoK2l3a-e-YsZKDMqF/w543-h306/Warning+to+Farmers.png" width="543" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>This past week my youngest, Addison, and I got to fly to Colorado to be with my mom </p><p>while my dad flew to Washington D.C. for a speaking engagement. </p><p>It was our first plane trip since COVID hit last year. </p><p>We were ready. We had our backpacks. Our snacks. And our masks. </p><p>As we were leaving the ticketing counter with our boarding passes, </p><p>a young lady approached us and and said,</p><p>"Hi, I overheard you are going to Denver. Do you mind if I walk with you? </p><p>This is my first flight since I was 13."</p><p>I said, "We don't mind at all. How old are you now?"</p><p>"18. I'm a little nervous. I heard Denver is a huge airport."</p><p>Addie walked in front of us as we chatted.</p><p>"You don't have anything to worry about. </p><p>Even though it is big, they have really good signs. You will get where you need to go."</p><p>She asked,"And people can answer my questions?"<br /></p><p>"Yes. They will be super helpful."</p><p>As we went through the security line, I told her, "Security might be a little different since the last time you went through. They have a machine that scans your body now."</p><p>"Really."</p><p>"Yep. You just hold your hands up in the air. It scans you and you are free to go."</p><p>"I don't mind. I'm glad they are doing things to make sure people stay safe."</p><p>"Me, too."</p><p>Addie stepped through the scanner.</p><p>I followed him. </p><p><br /></p><p>But as I exited, the TSA agent said, "Maam, I'm going to pat you down."</p><p>Addie was standing in front of me. The girl walking with us had come through the scanner </p><p>and was standing behind me at this point. </p><p>"Oh. Okay."</p><p><br /></p><p>I was wearing overalls and a t-shirt. Maybe the metal buttons had triggered something. </p><p>Maybe they were too baggy. Who knows. </p><p>She proceeded to tell me with a smile, "I am going to have to pat down your chest. </p><p>Do you want to go to a private area?"</p><p>I really didn't. That made it weird. </p><p>Whatever patting down was going to take place, was going to take place in view of the public as far as I was concerned. </p><p>"Nope. I'm fine here."</p><p>She then proceeded to pat down my sides and my back. Totally fine.</p><p>Addie and the girl were watching as I was searched.</p><p>But then things took a turn.</p><p><br /></p><p>She stood and faced me, eye-to-eye.</p><p>She began a full-frontal pat-down.</p><p>The thoroughness with which the TSA agent patted</p><p>down the upper region of my body caught me off-guard.</p><p>This was no simple frisking. There as a point where I thought,</p><p>"I'm pretty sure you went over that area before. Calm down, sister."</p><p><br /></p><p>I laughed nervously and said, "Wow! You're really going for it."</p><p>She also laughed nervously but then we both went silent in the awkwardness of the moment.</p><p>Addie told me later that it was at this point that he turned away.</p><p>"Mom, you shouldn't have talked. Just be quiet when you are getting patted down."</p><p>"Dude. I wasn't trying to talk. I was caught off-guard. That was a whole lot of patting."</p><p>The young girl behind me was also silent during the entire exhange.</p><p><br /></p><p>What made it worse was that after the ultra-invasive pat down, </p><p>the lovely TSA agent and I had to stand and wait, still face-to-face, </p><p>while she tested the residue from her pat down on a strip of paper in a machine.</p><p>Just to make sure that I hadn't nestled a bomb or detonator in my pockets </p><p>or in the nooks and crannies of my undergarments.</p><p>I hadn't. I promise.</p><p><br /></p><p>Finally, she gave me the all clear. </p><p>Looking back I feel like she should have been more direct with her pat-down warning, </p><p>offering not a private room for the pat down, but a full-blown explanation like:</p><p>"Look. Whatever you thought a pat-down was before, this isn't it.</p><p>This is going to be weird. </p><p>When I say, I am going to pat you down. I mean I am going to PAT YOU DOWN. </p><p>More than you have ever been patted before. </p><p>You will feel awkward. I will feel awkward.</p><p> All the people in line around you will also feel awkward. </p><p>But we are doing this to keep our country safe. So let's get it over with."</p><p><br /></p><p>Then maybe I wouldn't have humiliated myself and my son and some random girl</p><p>by calling attention to the extreme vigor with which I was being patted down. </p><p>Hindsight is 20/20.</p><p><br /></p><p>It is safe to say that I will never see the young girl who walked the security line with us again.</p><p>She was off like a shot as soon as she could be. </p><p>I get it. I told her she had nothing to worry about. Apparently, I lied.</p><p>No one wanted to see what went down in that security line. Me included.</p><p>Needless to say, I did not wear my overalls on the flight back home yesterday.</p><p>Lesson learned, TSA. </p><p>Overalls are out. High-waisted jeans and fitted t-shirts are in.</p><p>All that to say, whenever your first flight after covid takes place, folks, go with God.</p><p>You're going to need Him.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgM_N8U-oRD1zkymyJn0uLv5fbvImVxogQ2C6rtAegw2cc1q5sDeBTogOEwP-4CQrJlWQUrcNEdH5yLYGfLqhlf-l5BY4fdObqOHXLjYggp3nv8_M0QWRLD5n6qzm0bbxP6wyf73M3jpU4/s851/susanna+foth+aughtmon+is+a+writer%252C+speaker+and+dark+chocolate+lover..jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="315" data-original-width="851" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgM_N8U-oRD1zkymyJn0uLv5fbvImVxogQ2C6rtAegw2cc1q5sDeBTogOEwP-4CQrJlWQUrcNEdH5yLYGfLqhlf-l5BY4fdObqOHXLjYggp3nv8_M0QWRLD5n6qzm0bbxP6wyf73M3jpU4/w400-h149/susanna+foth+aughtmon+is+a+writer%252C+speaker+and+dark+chocolate+lover..jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>susannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10793027318859627527noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3736122013539663895.post-64458973459638551012021-06-12T09:43:00.007-07:002021-06-12T09:47:38.815-07:00I'm Tired, People, but I'm Working it Out<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkG33V6hwL3yTPL5Nf_Sh3F49wg_0jPmvfERB803lRpwYStEbwrEhJmREVczpmgdnKBMQYYosmw7Br7s8LNjybzweoAWd6dHoT0IipNoDlVaOcmwobNHCG7hZvJskgk_3dcoV5oUGjVIRu/s940/I%2527m+tired%252C+People.+but+I%2527m+working+it+out.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="788" data-original-width="940" height="335" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkG33V6hwL3yTPL5Nf_Sh3F49wg_0jPmvfERB803lRpwYStEbwrEhJmREVczpmgdnKBMQYYosmw7Br7s8LNjybzweoAWd6dHoT0IipNoDlVaOcmwobNHCG7hZvJskgk_3dcoV5oUGjVIRu/w400-h335/I%2527m+tired%252C+People.+but+I%2527m+working+it+out.png" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>There's this new blogging trend where you only blog twice year. </p><p>It's been linked to autoimmune disease. </p><p>Okay. That's not a thing.</p><p>But after tons of testing, weeping, and gnashing of teeth, </p><p>I found out last August that I have Hashimotos' Autoimmune Thyroid disease.</p><p>And I have blogged 2 1/2 times since then. </p><p>Remember when I was teaching and couldn't get up off the couch after getting home?</p><p>Well, my body was forming an uprising against me </p><p>and decided that if I thought living off of coffee and adrenaline for two years was a good idea, </p><p>that it would show me different.</p><p>So, I basically exploded my body with stress. Have you guys tried it?</p><p>It's not the best. </p><p><br /></p><p>I am currently working to atone for the crimes I perpetrated against my body and mental well-being.</p><p>I am taking a plethora of supplements - since my body doesn't want to hold on to nutrients -</p><p>as well as getting a shot of B12 once a week, because, come on, who doesn't love shots?</p><p>I have a pill box the size of a purse and have officially been declared "90 on the inside"</p><p>by friends and family.</p><p><br /></p><p>I asked my son, Addison, the other day, "Remember when I didn't lay on the couch?"</p><p>He looked like he wanted to answer yes, but I have raised him to be a truth-teller.</p><p>He just patted my shoulder and walked away.</p><p><br /></p><p>But not that everything is all bad. I have an out now when I make dumb mistakes. </p><p>I found out that your thyroid has cell receptors on EVERY cell in your body.</p><p>So it affects my sleep, my neck, my brain, my eyes, my joints, </p><p>and I am pretty sure my elbows are giving me pushback at this point. </p><p>So when anything goes wrong, I am just blaming my thyroid.</p><p><br /></p><p>The other day, my son Jack was home visiting from college and we were running errands.</p><p>I made a wrong turn on a one-way street. We both thought we were going to die.</p><p>That was all thyroid, folks. </p><p>Jack decided he would rather drive with Scott after that. </p><p>We had Will's graduation party two weeks ago. Family came in town to stay. </p><p>It was the highlight of our year so far. We had a party. We laughed. We cried.</p><p>We lived it up.</p><p>It's only taken me 13 days to recover and get up off of the couch.</p><p>That's all you, thyroid.</p><p><br /></p><p>When I named the blog 12 years ago, </p><p>I was a young sleep-deprived mom just trying to survive the day...I was a tired supergirl.</p><p>Now as I duke it out with my thyroid, </p><p>I am a middle-aged mom teetering on the brink of an empty nest...</p><p>I would say I am more of a super tired girl. </p><p>But that girl...she is still in there.</p><p>She is trying to fight her way out. She still wants to laugh and play and do great things for Jesus.</p><p>She just feels like maybe she has been hit with a bear tranquillizer </p><p>that has taken her down the last year or 4. </p><p>And her doing great things for Jesus looks a lot like trying not to lay down during virtual church on Sunday now.</p><p>It's all about baby steps, folks.</p><p><br /></p><p>So this month, I am embarking on a new healing journey with my medical team (naturopath, endocrinologist, and the receptionist who has a full-time job logging my appointments).</p><p>It starts with an elimination diet that seems especially cruel as it eliminates caffeine and chocolate.</p><p>I just started to get teary-eyed at the mention of that. </p><p>I literally ate 3 chocolate almond clusters yesterday in preparation for the fact that I won't be eating dark chocolate for an entire month. See the great logic there?</p><p>But I am actually excited in a tired sort of way.</p><p>And I have decided I need to stay connected during this journey. </p><p>Because not eating chocolate goes against all my love languages (gifts of chocolate, quality time with chocolate, acts of service of people brings me chocolate, etc.)</p><p><br /></p><p>So I will be posting updates here...at least two more times this year.</p><p>Are you tired, too?</p><p>Let's encourage each other on this journey.</p><p>I'm asking Jesus to take the wheel. </p><p>Or even better, I will be asking Him to map out the entire journey ahead </p><p>as I will be taking a lie down in the back seat.</p><p>Why don't you join me?</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgM_N8U-oRD1zkymyJn0uLv5fbvImVxogQ2C6rtAegw2cc1q5sDeBTogOEwP-4CQrJlWQUrcNEdH5yLYGfLqhlf-l5BY4fdObqOHXLjYggp3nv8_M0QWRLD5n6qzm0bbxP6wyf73M3jpU4/s851/susanna+foth+aughtmon+is+a+writer%252C+speaker+and+dark+chocolate+lover..jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="315" data-original-width="851" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgM_N8U-oRD1zkymyJn0uLv5fbvImVxogQ2C6rtAegw2cc1q5sDeBTogOEwP-4CQrJlWQUrcNEdH5yLYGfLqhlf-l5BY4fdObqOHXLjYggp3nv8_M0QWRLD5n6qzm0bbxP6wyf73M3jpU4/w400-h149/susanna+foth+aughtmon+is+a+writer%252C+speaker+and+dark+chocolate+lover..jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p>susannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10793027318859627527noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3736122013539663895.post-2607608969348316572021-03-29T09:19:00.004-07:002021-03-29T09:20:47.747-07:00Blogging about Detours over at She.ology Today<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL5_7VGkW1FZ4_k6cbMhDlaJ410A8SXpQmDhkDVjHhDqxvDfese9y_Zwa8vhJrTaHYVqHcJee6Ua_czafeNJYQ8nucFm7o70DR869eVvi7D3UbSjWWSzNVWMSNryYjAo0AUghV5Z4rJ3Kp/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="261" data-original-width="500" height="281" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL5_7VGkW1FZ4_k6cbMhDlaJ410A8SXpQmDhkDVjHhDqxvDfese9y_Zwa8vhJrTaHYVqHcJee6Ua_czafeNJYQ8nucFm7o70DR869eVvi7D3UbSjWWSzNVWMSNryYjAo0AUghV5Z4rJ3Kp/w539-h281/image.png" width="539" /></a></div><br />So thankful to get the opportunity to partner with an amazing group of women over at She.ology!<p></p><p>You can check out my latest post <a href="https://www.sheology.co/blog-sheology/2021/3/26/detour-ahead" target="_blank">Detour Ahead</a>!</p><p><br /></p>susannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10793027318859627527noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3736122013539663895.post-15344334159393688372021-02-25T19:37:00.001-08:002021-02-25T19:37:14.906-08:00love and hope are best friends<p>This is the 2nd day of in our 40 days of hope, guys.</p><p>And this is the verse that keeps springing to my mind...</p><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Roboto, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">How great</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Roboto, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"> is the </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Roboto, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">love</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Roboto, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"> the </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Roboto, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">Father</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Roboto, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"> has lavished on </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Roboto, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">us</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Roboto, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">, that we should be called children of God! And that is what we are! 1 John 3:1a</span></b></div><p>We are His kids. It just doesn't get any better than that. </p><p>Dads are the best. <br /></p><p>As children, our dads are larger than life, aren't they?</p><p>They protect us.</p><p>They sacrifice every day to make sure we have what we need. </p><p>They push us to grow and dream and become.</p><p>And they are strong enough to fling us high in the air and catch us.</p><p>Or launch us like a rocket in the swimming pool.</p><p>Nothing seems impossible for them.</p><p>And nothing is impossible for our Dad in heaven.</p><p>There is nothing He wouldn't do for us. Even sacrifice His own Son.</p><p>He moved heaven and earth to become our Dad.</p><p>That is what hope looks like. Love upon love.</p><p>If you have any question if your Heavenly Father loves you just ask Him.</p><p>Over and over again. His answer will be the same everytime.</p><p>Yes. Yes. Yes. YES!</p><p>It will sound a little something like this.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/yn4DAkdr38E" width="320" youtube-src-id="yn4DAkdr38E"></iframe></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>susannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10793027318859627527noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3736122013539663895.post-82774218081275677972021-02-24T12:55:00.001-08:002021-02-24T12:55:48.447-08:0040 days of hope, you guys....<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioTpk_sBOcruajTVZkgnMpPS1fhwl5RcJbu1DfCAv67Ezc0XvqWTwDqVl9cHCVCWaJ-0WPrcy0eKzu8RTuLS9PvKNnywb12LZtJMnILpBbXn7p4hRXe9Q4jINh3_M40ANdV1dLELESSJ7x/s1650/Hope+Feathers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1275" data-original-width="1650" height="309" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioTpk_sBOcruajTVZkgnMpPS1fhwl5RcJbu1DfCAv67Ezc0XvqWTwDqVl9cHCVCWaJ-0WPrcy0eKzu8RTuLS9PvKNnywb12LZtJMnILpBbXn7p4hRXe9Q4jINh3_M40ANdV1dLELESSJ7x/w400-h309/Hope+Feathers.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p> </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>Today is 40 days from Easter Sunday.</p><p>I counted it out on my calendar just to be sure.</p><p>As far as I can tell, the 40 days up until Christmas get a whole lot of buildup.</p><p>I was thinking I need a little more buildup for Easter this year.</p><p>I need a buildup of hope. </p><p>Reminders that God is on the move. And He is in control.</p><p>Jesus, take the wheel.</p><p>And in the midst of another pretty weird and stressful beginning of a year,</p><p>I need to be reminded that Jesus isn't surprised. He isn't scared. He has seen weird before.</p><p>What He is...is engaged. </p><p>With love and power and glory and mercy for you and for me.</p><p><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RZQQwAActog" target="_blank">Tim Keller</a> (he's my favorite) says that we need to speak to our own hearts.</p><p>Like the Psalmist did.</p><p>"Why am I downcast, oh my soul. Put your hope in God!" </p><p>My version of speaking to my heart would sound something like this...</p><p>"Buck up, sister. Jesus is on your side. He is what hope is all about."</p><p>So for the next 40 days, until Easter, I am going to speak to my own heart.</p><p>Hope. Hope. Hope. Hope. Hope. In the One Who loves us most of all.<br /></p><p>Why don't you join me?</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgM_N8U-oRD1zkymyJn0uLv5fbvImVxogQ2C6rtAegw2cc1q5sDeBTogOEwP-4CQrJlWQUrcNEdH5yLYGfLqhlf-l5BY4fdObqOHXLjYggp3nv8_M0QWRLD5n6qzm0bbxP6wyf73M3jpU4/s851/susanna+foth+aughtmon+is+a+writer%252C+speaker+and+dark+chocolate+lover..jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="315" data-original-width="851" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgM_N8U-oRD1zkymyJn0uLv5fbvImVxogQ2C6rtAegw2cc1q5sDeBTogOEwP-4CQrJlWQUrcNEdH5yLYGfLqhlf-l5BY4fdObqOHXLjYggp3nv8_M0QWRLD5n6qzm0bbxP6wyf73M3jpU4/s320/susanna+foth+aughtmon+is+a+writer%252C+speaker+and+dark+chocolate+lover..jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p></p>susannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10793027318859627527noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3736122013539663895.post-70047435741999843022020-12-20T09:06:00.002-08:002020-12-20T09:06:17.105-08:00Finding Christmas joy over at She.ology today<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.sheology.co/blog-sheology/2020/12/18/finding-christmas-joy" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="788" data-original-width="940" height="335" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNlyzq9NSjh1PenbYRB1galg1GrNVghlxN_kEnQc-O3LkaU64luCM_Q4peDxTCOcwTX-qjGYc5oGW7HbL_eh8m-Y3yJ4qNIIe6W3p2VwmoZIutmfBANjNhez6r5vBuTwqsUI7YO0UXmkul/w400-h335/Finding+Christmas+Joy.png" width="400" /></a><a href="https://www.sheology.co/blog-sheology/2020/12/18/finding-christmas-joy" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></a><a href="https://www.sheology.co/blog-sheology/2020/12/18/finding-christmas-joy" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><span style="text-align: left;">I hope that you find Christmas joy in this crazy covid season!</span></a></div>susannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10793027318859627527noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3736122013539663895.post-51882927848222136012020-08-13T09:06:00.002-07:002020-08-13T09:48:50.080-07:00crouching spider...creeping myrtle<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfP_i1iKnbiKeyiE9vG7HJm24NgRzeD00TvY3hR8lrbhT3SX_-qVnURajPZ_FoDnw5Dv78DNu8IWZ7C7IHEVuuzeSX2vZfodIHaAFYD1gtXANJeXW6UhXICUjmH6kfood99Yew3sLV8NnR/s940/crouching+spider.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="788" data-original-width="940" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfP_i1iKnbiKeyiE9vG7HJm24NgRzeD00TvY3hR8lrbhT3SX_-qVnURajPZ_FoDnw5Dv78DNu8IWZ7C7IHEVuuzeSX2vZfodIHaAFYD1gtXANJeXW6UhXICUjmH6kfood99Yew3sLV8NnR/s640/crouching+spider.png" width="640" /></a></div><p><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Last Saturday was an exceptional day.</p><p class="MsoNormal">My parents had driven up from Colorado, a miracle in and of
itself, considering the world-wide pandemic that we have going on.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">We were thrilled for the visit, but they had arrived with a
mission. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">To help me plant the three barren flower beds in my yard.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">During stay-at-home orders, they had created a small English
garden in their backyard <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">and were going to bring a little of that magic to my humble
yard.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">We ventured out to a nearby nursery, masked, looking for flowers
and herbs. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">We had all we needed in terms of roses and butterfly bushes,<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">but decided that we needed some cute ground cover for the flower
bed in the front yard…<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">maybe some creeping thyme…<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">a version of the herb that blossoms with tiny lavender
flowers and you know…creeps…<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">covering the ground.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i>Adorable, right?<o:p></o:p></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The nursery only had one plant, so we headed to Home Depot
to see if they had more.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">There was no creeping thyme to be found. But we did find
four creeping myrtle plants.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Equally purple. Equally creeping. Equally adorable. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">As we moved up to stand on the red social-distancing line
near the cash register, <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">both my mom and I were holding two plants each. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I noticed that my bangs were falling over my sunglasses.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Except for the fact the I don’t have bangs as they have
grown out during the pandemic.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">It took me all of 3 seconds to realize that what was slipping
down over my sunglasses<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>was not my own hair, <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b>but 2 spindly light brown spider legs.<o:p></o:p></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><o:p> </o:p></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">In a moment of panic, I screamed, “Spider!” <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I, simultaneously, threw both plants, my sunglasses, and my
right hoop earring down to the ground. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">My shriek of horror unnerved the folks in the Home Depot.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The Home Depot lady came over to me and said, “What happened?
Was it a spider?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">This question made me think that this was not a first-time
spider incident. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Maybe Home Depot had an arachnid issue in general, <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">If so, they need to address it.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Because spiders don’t bring out the best in people.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I was standing, legs askance, arms flung wide from my body, neck
thrust out, <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: center 3.25in;">searching the ground for the
offending party.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“A spider was on my head.” <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: center 3.25in;">My mom moved far away from
me. Not even for social distancing purposes.<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“Oh, no.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i>Oh, yes.<o:p></o:p></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The Home Depot lady began to search the ground with me.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Mom edged back even further.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I glanced down at my upper body just in time to see the
light brown spider with long spindly legs, emerge from under my armpit. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">It began to crawl across my chest.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i>Sweet Jesus, take me now.<o:p></o:p></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I lost my mind.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I lunged forward in a leap resembling a half-gainer, flinging
my body up and outward,<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">and let loose with an ear-piercing, “Aaaaahhhh-eee!”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The spider took flight. Mom took another several steps back.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">On high alert, I cased the ground.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">And my upper thighs.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The teenage boy at the register was dying laughing. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I believe he was on the spider’s side.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The concerned Home Depot lady, no longer socially distanced, <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">swept her hands downward across my shoulders and back,
declaring, “It’s not on you.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">It seemed like she had done a lot of spider checks in her
years.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">My mom, clutching her creeping myrtle plants, had
triple-social distanced at this point,<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">no longer wanting to be involved.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">After a crucial search yielded no spider sightings, I
calmly reached down to the ground, put my hoop earring back in my ear and placed
my sunglasses back on my head. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Then I picked up my creeping myrtle plants. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The Home Depot lady declared, “I don’t like spiders.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i>Same person.<o:p></o:p></i></p><p class="MsoNormal"><i><br /></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Mom and I paid at the register, ignoring the snickers of the
teenager helping us,<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">and began walking out to the car where Dad was waiting.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Then we got the giggles.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Mom said, “I’ve never seen you throw down something that
fast.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Well. She had never seen me with a spider in my hair before. My spider reflexes are stellar.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">We were near hysterical by the time we slid into our seats
and told Dad what had went down.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I said, “Mom, I am still crazy itchy!” <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">She said, “Me, too.” The whole 5-minute car ride home, we
were laughing,<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">brushing our hands over our shoulders and legs, <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">assuring ourselves that our itching was psychosomatic.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Except that when Mom got out of the car at my house, <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b>THE LIGHT BROWN SPINDLY LEGGED SPIDER WAS SITTING ON HER
HEADREST. <o:p></o:p></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Apparently, when I flung him the second time into the Home
Depot ether, he had landed on Mom.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">She should have edged out further.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b>The spider had ridden all the way home with us in the
car. On my mom’s neck.<o:p></o:p></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I unleashed a banshee-like scream next to my dad’s head. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The sheer force of it hunched his shoulders forward. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">He called out all the names of my siblings before he landed on mine.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“Susanna! Stop screaming.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">This is the thing. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i>When a spider has crawled on you twice and then taken up
residence on your mom’s shoulder for a 2-mile drive?<o:p></o:p></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">That is completely scream-worthy.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Dad proceeded to try and end the spider with a magazine.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">He only got a couple legs.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">You. Guys.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">This is the most determined, wily arachnid I have ever encountered.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b>We. Still. Don’t. Know. Where. It. Is.<o:p></o:p></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">We googled spider leg loss and discovered that they can easily
live without a couple legs.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">For all we know, he could be making his way back home with
Mom and Dad, </p><p class="MsoNormal">plotting his spindly-legged revenge.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">So…all this to say.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i>Stay safe and healthy,people</i>.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">And wrap yourself in a roll of mosquito netting next time you head out to the Home Depot.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://sfaughtmon.com/" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="148" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeuT6vAGSQi9568ObcSwl1Q-qN4gOC1zCCtry4RQ6OijLMMhDjhYB2PdbETCbZstfjoDYZFNb4fYKKsbpFwUJ_yrbwrDgdfn8_PyM0uUQylJ35eLixq_GD9wm5eGAgyCftOs6YEXAeCQqY/s0/blog+ender.png" /></a></div><p></p>
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<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>susannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10793027318859627527noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3736122013539663895.post-84002088679719522942020-08-04T08:48:00.001-07:002020-08-04T08:51:43.264-07:00pray heavy...as my mother-in-law would say<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwYpzR4pU1sbP8j5j5VPk20Sr-ZEhgSkZizESSdlDKG3IhcRUT4yZbFv-eDZRbgKiCG2l7RJsqJvDCNKp-Y1hnqkbHxehijMlWPehzblZaviscsa_trDvLmgCrXYxJcGM9gqbvAI9eG-mT/s1600/pray+heavy.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="789" data-original-width="940" height="335" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwYpzR4pU1sbP8j5j5VPk20Sr-ZEhgSkZizESSdlDKG3IhcRUT4yZbFv-eDZRbgKiCG2l7RJsqJvDCNKp-Y1hnqkbHxehijMlWPehzblZaviscsa_trDvLmgCrXYxJcGM9gqbvAI9eG-mT/s400/pray+heavy.png" width="400" /></a></div>
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The other day,<br />
when I read that the Bubonic plague was found in Mongolia<br />
and a brain-eating bacteria has turned up in Florida,<br />
I decided I needed a break from the headlines.<br />
For a year. Or maybe a decade.<br />
The news leaves me feeling distraught and powerless.<br />
<i>What can be done? How can I help? Why are there murder hornets?</i><br />
<br />
We need some good, strong prayers in the world today, don't we?<br />
Yes, we do. But there is a problem.<br />
<br />
Praying has never been an easy road for me.<br />
The commitment. The discipline. The focus.<br />
It tends to allude me.<br />
<br />
Don't get me wrong.<br />
I shoot up prayers to Jesus all the time.<br />
<br />
<i>Please.</i><br />
<i>Help.</i><br />
<i>Thank you.</i><br />
<i>I love you.</i><br />
<br />
But that deep, rich prayer life that my Grandma had, praying for each of us grandkids every day?<br />
I have yet to master.<br />
<br />
My husband, Scott, has a firm prayer discipline in his life.<br />
He sets aside an hour each to pray and connect with God.<br />
<br />
I, on the other hand, can start praying about a friend's broken marriage and<br />
end up thinking about avocados and how they are so versatile in a taco dinner.<br />
<br />
I have this cringe-y feeling that maybe Jesus, listening to my prayers,<br />
ready to advocate on my behalf, is thinking,<br />
"There she goes thinking about avocados again."<br />
<br />
The thing is....I want to...want to pray.<br />
I know it is essential. I know I am made for it.<br />
I want to have the daily connection to the One Who loves me most of all,<br />
Who moved heaven and earth for my salvation,<br />
Who has a plan and purpose for my life.<br />
<br />
He has enough love and grace for each and every person in this world<br />
no matter what they are facing.<br />
But how can I be like Him or learn from Him if I don't hang out with Him?<br />
<br />
So I ordered two books on prayer.<br />
<i><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Inner-Step-Toward-God-Teachings/dp/1612612385/ref=sr_1_1?dchild=1&keywords=inner+step+toward+God&qid=1596556235&s=books&sr=1-1" target="_blank">An Inner Step Towards God</a></i> by Father Alexander Men,<br />
a Russian Orthodox priest who was martyred in 1990<br />
and<br />
<i><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Prayer-Experiencing-Awe-Intimacy-God/dp/0143108581/ref=sr_1_2?dchild=1&keywords=prayer+tim+keller&qid=1596555955&sr=8-2" target="_blank">Prayer</a></i> by Tim Keller.<br />
<br />
They are rocking my world.<br />
I can not get through a page of <i>Prayer </i>without putting it down and crying.<br />
Because it is convicting me to my core.<br />
This statement laid me out flat for a good hour:<br />
<br />
<i><b>To fail to pray, then, is not to break some religious rule - it is a failure to treat God as God.</b></i><br />
<i><b><br /></b></i>
Take it easy, Tim Keller, you are killing me over here.<br />
<br />
And Father Alexander Men is just as challenging.<br />
He says,<br />
<br />
<i><b>"How happy, how stable, how brave, how free is the one who is able to feel these words</b></i><br />
<i><b>deep down inside and run them through his heart, "Thy will be done." Yet let us never forget</b></i><br />
<i><b>that, in reality, we constantly come up against the exact opposite, "My will be done.""</b></i><br />
<i><b><br /></b></i>
If only he knew how frequently that happens.<br />
I am all about my will being done.<br />
In fact, I often pray that Jesus would do my will instead of His.<br />
I don't say that in so many words, but that is my motivation.<br />
<i>Fix the world, Jesus. Make everything go the way I want it to go. Amen.</i><br />
<br />
And this is the crux of it. In this moment in time, when I want what I want,<br />
Jesus is reminding me Who He is. All knowing. All powerful. All loving.<br />
He's in charge. He is on the move. He is full of peace and hope.<br />
No matter what is happening on a global scale,<br />
if I want to be like Him, I actually need to hang out with Him.<br />
<br />
Jesus is inviting my selfish, fearful, anxious soul to turn towards Him.<br />
To lean into His grace and mercy and forgiveness and to be with Him.<br />
<br />
My mother-in-law has a group of friends who pray regularly together.<br />
Whenever I call with a request, she says, "Me and the girls are praying heavy."<br />
<br />
I love the weight of that statement.<br />
Those heavy prayers are anchored in the power of the Almighty.<br />
<br />
So I am starting over.<br />
I am learning to pray a new way.<br />
I am recognizing the pull of my self-centered, worry-laden desires and choosing to say,<br />
"Jesus, you are God. I want what you want. No matter what."<br />
<br />
It is not a perfect prayer. But then Tim Keller says that is not a thing.<br />
Prayer is a journey. A song. A reckoning. An intimate conversation.<br />
<br />
In these times of great turmoil, I want to anchor my life in the power of the Almighty.<br />
Care to join me?<br />
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<br />susannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10793027318859627527noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3736122013539663895.post-46598563829053888212020-04-14T11:27:00.000-07:002020-04-14T11:27:22.993-07:00Failed distance learning or sweet dance moves...it's your choice<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Distance. Learning.<br />
<br />
These two words have rocked my writer's world.<br />
My early morning cups of coffee and solitary thoughts have been disrupted<br />
by the home school bell.<br />
<br />
By that I mean my own alarm clock.<br />
And me waking up my children to come down to the kitchen table.<br />
Will and Addison are less than thrilled with online learning.<br />
That makes three of us. (We heart you, teachers!!!!!)<br />
<br />
On our second day of distance learning and algebraic equations,<br />
Addison, a second semester 8th grader,<br />
looked me dead in the eye and said, "I NEVER wanted to home school."<br />
Translation: You stink at this, lady.<br />
So I looked him dead in the eye and said, "Me, either."<br />
Translation: I stink at this, buddy.<br />
<br />
For the love of all that is good and holy, I thought I left math behind years ago.<br />
This was proven to be true when I was an aid for 8th grade math 2 years ago...<br />
for about two weeks.<br />
<br />
At one point, the student that I was trying to help looked at me and said,<br />
"Oh, I get it, Mrs. Aughtmon! You are in this class because you need to learn math."<br />
It was a brutal common core moment.<br />
<br />
I agreed with him.<br />
And asked to be transferred to helping those who struggled<br />
with dangling participles and prepositional phrases...<br />
because, English....<br />
<br />
We are in our third week of online learning.<br />
I am trying to write at the table, while the boys complete their work.<br />
We are all having a little trouble dragging ourselves from bed in the morning.<br />
Also, we are having trouble remembering what day it is...Tuesday...Thursday...Saturday?<br />
The shine has worn off of school in the kitchen.<br />
<br />
I tried something new this morning.<br />
Dancing.<br />
I thought maybe it would inspire during our math mayhem.<br />
<br />
I busted out some Stevie Wonder on my computer to take on graphing equations.<br />
I did a few spins around the table.<br />
Followed the prep. A grapevine. The robocop.<br />
(Yes, I highlight 80's aerobics moves with early 90's hip-hop classics.)<br />
<br />
It didn't go over well.<br />
Addie didn't even smile.<br />
He said, "Mom, you can listen to your music. Just don't dance."<br />
Will followed this up with,<br />
"You are super distracting and not in a good way. You want us to learn, right?"<br />
<br />
I want them to learn what sweet dance moves look like.<br />
And some manners.<br />
Scott came dancing out of the office.<br />
They completely ignored his gift of breakfast break dancing.<br />
They don't know true talent.<br />
Obviously.<br />
<br />
Let's be honest.<br />
The dancing is just for me...to keep my own spirits up.<br />
And to make myself laugh.<br />
Because the horror on my boys faces is priceless.<br />
<br />
Also, it's a genius home teaching method...<br />
my awkward dancing helps my children focus on their school work in front of them...<br />
because they are avoiding looking at me.<br />
<br />
This is what survival is all about, you guys.<br />
It's okay to find some joy in the midst of chaos.<br />
<br />
We can focus on the stress of lock down and quadratic equations...<br />
or we can humiliate our children with a well-timed kick ball change.<br />
It's your choice. You already know mine.<br />
<br />
Here are a few happy, upbeat dance tunes to bring yourself some joy....<br />
and torment your own children with...<br />
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FAITH</div>
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BETTER WHEN I'M DANCIN'</div>
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CAN'T STOP THE FEELING</div>
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DON'T YOU WORRY ABOUT A THING</div>
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DON'T WORRY, BE HAPPY<br /><iframe width="320" height="266" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/d-diB65scQU/0.jpg" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/d-diB65scQU?feature=player_embedded" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe></div>
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HAPPY<br /><iframe width="320" height="266" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/ZbZSe6N_BXs/0.jpg" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/ZbZSe6N_BXs?feature=player_embedded" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe></div>
<br />susannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10793027318859627527noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3736122013539663895.post-67780004414583992352020-04-09T10:17:00.000-07:002020-04-09T12:12:46.194-07:00Thoughts on the weirdness, wearing masks and gratitude<br />
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Yesterday was my first time out of the house since our nationwide lock down wearing a mask.<br />
I got into my car with clorox wipes, hand sanitizer, and latex gloves.<br />
If you had taken me in with all my gear you would have thought I was getting ready to operate...<br />
on Walmart.<br />
<br />
I made a mask out of an inspirational bandanna that I was given<br />
while speaking at a girls youth retreat last year.<br />
I tried it first with the uplifting hot pink message facing outward.<br />
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In case you can't read it, it says:<br />
Destined<br />
You are God's<br />
MASTERPIECE<br />
He has created you for a Purpose<br />
<br />
Which is true and such a good reminder.<br />
Except that when I had it on,<br />
it felt like my face might be yelling at passersby in the store.<br />
<br />
So I flipped to the other side which was a dark green camo material.<br />
This made me feel like I was getting ready for a heist or a military maneuver.<br />
Both of which I guess could be true...since I felt like I was on a mission.<br />
On high alert. Finding vital essentials for my squad (cheese sticks for the fam.)<br />
<br />
The problem was that when I put the mask on,<br />
the hair bands I was using didn't fit well over my elfin shaped ears.<br />
It kept inching forward.<br />
Making it feel like it was going to launch off my face like a catapult.<br />
This has the opposite effect of social distancing.<br />
<br />
And then there was the part where the mask itself felt too big,<br />
and was pushing up into my lower eyelids...<br />
which I am pretty sure was giving corona virus direct entry into my eyeballs.<br />
<br />
The video from the surgeon general said,<br />
"Make sure not to touch your mask once you have it on."<br />
I touched it roughly around 17 times as I entered the store.<br />
Since not only was it introducing lint balls and other pathogens into my tear ducts,<br />
but blocked my peripheral vision.<br />
<br />
Due to my compromised vision I didn't realize that a carton of cherry tomatoes<br />
had burst open in my cart.<br />
I was leaving a trail of them behind me like Hansel and Gretel.<br />
A cashier walked up behind me and said,<br />
"Oh, there you are...I have been following the line of tomatoes through the store."<br />
He was very kind and helped me pick up the few that were rolling around by my feet.<br />
<br />
I then made eye contact with a lady who wasn't wearing a mask<br />
as we were trying to maintain a 6 foot distance.<br />
She looked at me with my haphazard protective gear and I just said,<br />
"This is so weird."<br />
She laughed and said, "Yes. It is."<br />
Which really meant,<br />
"Bless your heart.<br />
You are really trying, but I think corona virus might be getting in your eyeballs."<br />
<br />
Then she said, "I have one, too." And, "You stay safe and healthy."<br />
With great kindness and empathy.<br />
I hoped she could tell that I was smiling at her from behind my face mask.<br />
<br />
My last stop was the Easter candy section.<br />
I ended up over committing when I remembered you are supposed<br />
buy anything you touch.<br />
I have enough chocolate eggs for all of southern Idaho.<br />
This I do not regret. Every body needs a little chocolate (or 7 lbs.) on lock down.<br />
<br />
By the time I finally made it to self-checkout, I thought I was having a panic attack.<br />
Then I realized, I had over-layered my mask and just needed some oxygen.<br />
I started to feel a deep kinship towards surgeons, and welders and people who use hand-sanders.<br />
My respect for all mask wearers at this time is THROUGH THE ROOF, you guys.<br />
<br />
I came out of the store and ripped off my mask,<br />
(pretty sure the Surgeon General would have just shaken his head at me by this point.)<br />
And turned back to the two greeters standing at the door and said,<br />
"How are you guys holding up?"<br />
<br />
Because really all the work they are doing to keep us all in food and toilet paper is amazing.<br />
<br />
They both smiled and said they were doing well.<br />
And then I thanked them. For being there. For working.<br />
For holding steady in the weirdness.<br />
<br />
The amazing thing is that underneath the undercurrents of fear and uncertainty that lace our days,<br />
I am finding an under-undercurrent of kindness and cooperation.<br />
Not meanness or hoarding.<br />
<br />
When I had to drive to California two weeks and half weeks ago to pick up Jack from college,<br />
every person at each drive thru and gas station was taking time to check in with me and I with them.<br />
<br />
"How are you doing?"<br />
"Ok...how are you?" "Ok."<br />
" This is so crazy." "Yes, it is!"<br />
"Stay safe and healthy." "You, too!"<br />
<br />
This was all said with liberal applications of wet wipes and hand sanitizer on both sides...<br />
because we were taking care of each other.<br />
<br />
Have you felt it?<br />
I have seen people go out of their way to take care of and share with and uplift each other...<br />
inspirational masks or not.<br />
<br />
People are pulling together.<br />
Checking on neighbors.<br />
Doing grocery drop-offs for friends who are battling the virus.<br />
Sharing funny videos to keep spirits lifted.<br />
Doing birthday drive-bys.<br />
<br />
And I am finding in the middle of combating an invisible foe along with the rest of the world...<br />
that I am grateful.<br />
<br />
I am incredibly thankful for every single person who is doing so much to benefit us all.<br />
I am thankful for the health workers and essential workers and my neighbor across the street<br />
who texted me a picture of a rainbow that she saw from her bedroom window.<br />
<br />
I am thankful to my boys teachers who are completely redoing their lesson plans to fit an online<br />
format, so that my kids can continue to learn. (Rockstars one and all.)<br />
<br />
I am thankful to my pastor who is speaking to a crowd of zero and streaming it live<br />
to share hope and peace.<br />
(Have you ever tried to speak to a crowd of zero? It is unnerving.)<br />
<br />
And I am thankful for you.<br />
Because I know you are bringing hope and light and kindness to your own people.<br />
<br />
And if by chance this week, you are feeling lethargic or anxious or worried,<br />
(because we are all feeling that at different moments)<br />
just pretend I am yelling at you with my inspirational face mask:<br />
<br />
<b>Destined</b><br />
<b>You are God's</b><br />
<b>MASTERPIECE</b><br />
<b>He has created you for a Purpose</b><br />
<br />
It is so true. Especially right now!<br />
You are a bringer of kindness and maybe some extra rolls of toilet paper for a friend in need.<br />
Your care of yourself and others transcends social barriers and Lysol spray.<br />
<br />
Know that I am praying this for you in the days ahead:<br />
<br />
In the middle of the weirdness,<br />
may the hope and love of Jesus spill out to those around you...<br />
as you stay 6 feet apart<br />
and smile at them behind your face masks.<br />
<br />
And may you have all the Easter chocolate you need.<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKIYksr_izD0N2JR80UAHmOBkih4vaFA9Hoi9bOshRStQW5a5WAPZb_8Mu2Si299iK6FCZb4ineyY0daZ6hObGhX3wrVI4jpzS0lD4gmWb0zitpOTi6hNW3s0hc5JAw4lT-WCem4hP3Sov/s1600/susanna+foth+aughtmon+is+a+writer%252C+speaker+and+dark+chocolate+lover..png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="315" data-original-width="851" height="147" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKIYksr_izD0N2JR80UAHmOBkih4vaFA9Hoi9bOshRStQW5a5WAPZb_8Mu2Si299iK6FCZb4ineyY0daZ6hObGhX3wrVI4jpzS0lD4gmWb0zitpOTi6hNW3s0hc5JAw4lT-WCem4hP3Sov/s400/susanna+foth+aughtmon+is+a+writer%252C+speaker+and+dark+chocolate+lover..png" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />susannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10793027318859627527noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3736122013539663895.post-1982795955288424842020-03-31T09:03:00.001-07:002020-03-31T09:39:47.144-07:00thoughts on fear, pit leakage & sheltering in place<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf9sVFYwkrKAMDHqJQ8JF5ldU3Ma_lrU5sAL9RPYaJRpTYPwB6zjgdV3-cypPOpUjRuZJ5tT7af0s-wYjp8giZNMpREsk43ev8OvWYr9Ka20QNIuMIDG9fmraoAjJDGwE9P2iRdcg8Tj2D/s1600/A+Different+Kind+of+Sheltering+in+place.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="789" data-original-width="940" height="335" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf9sVFYwkrKAMDHqJQ8JF5ldU3Ma_lrU5sAL9RPYaJRpTYPwB6zjgdV3-cypPOpUjRuZJ5tT7af0s-wYjp8giZNMpREsk43ev8OvWYr9Ka20QNIuMIDG9fmraoAjJDGwE9P2iRdcg8Tj2D/s400/A+Different+Kind+of+Sheltering+in+place.png" width="400" /></a></div>
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When I was 17, I spent the second semester of my senior year in high school<br />
on the MV <i>Anastasis</i>,<br />
a medical ship that provided global humanitarian aid around the world<br />
with Mercy Ships ministry.<br />
<br />
I attended the onboard school provided for the crew with my friend Heidi.<br />
<br />
Heidi's parents, Don and Deyon Stephens, the founders of the ministry,<br />
were my parent's friends from college.<br />
Together we girls had convinced our parents that<br />
a senior year adventure on the high seas was a terrific idea.<br />
They said, "Go for it!"<br />
<br />
When I boarded the ship in Mexico, I was hoping for three things:<br />
friends, adventure, and maybe love.<br />
Because giant ship and teenage girl = the love boat, right?<br />
<br />
What I got was: friends, adventure and Miss Pedder.<br />
<br />
Miss Pedder was a proper New Zealander, the principal of the onboard school<br />
and our high school Bible teacher.<br />
<br />
She was formidable. And exacting. And had high expectations.<br />
Especially from this California teenager with over-permed hair<br />
and a bent towards the romantic.<br />
She didn't laugh at my jokes. She didn't have time for her students to mess around.<br />
Or to talk in class.<br />
It was all about work. And standards. And some more standards.<br />
I had never met anyone quite like her.<br />
<br />
Each Monday she would give us a chunk of scripture to memorize<br />
and by Friday we would have to stand at the front of the class and recite God's Holy Word,<br />
looking her dead in the eye. Alone.<br />
<br />
I am talking serious arm pit sweats and voice tremors.<br />
Her gaze could fell the steadiest of students.<br />
Heidi took it all in stride. I had diarrhea every Friday.<br />
<br />
I remember several gut wrenching recitations said with twitching lips and perspiring palms,<br />
as her eyes pierced my very soul.<br />
<br />
I thought maybe she was looking to see if Jesus actually lived there.<br />
<br />
I was hoping He did and that He would give Miss Pedder the thumbs up.<br />
<br />
Our Bible final was an oral test.<br />
Each of us students would be called to the front of the class.<br />
She would state the random verse in a certain section of scripture that we had memorized<br />
during the course of the semester.<br />
<br />
We would have to complete the next 8-10 verses. On the fly.<br />
<br />
If you thought I was nervous during the normal recitations,<br />
this ramped everything up. Gut rumbles. Lip quivering. Eye twitching. Pit leakage.<br />
I was on high alert.<br />
<br />
The scripture I was prompted to recite was Psalm 91.<br />
Somewhat appropos for the fight or flight syndrome that was about to crash my nervous system.<br />
<br />
<dl compact="" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><dd>Psalm 91</dd>
<dt><br /></dt>
<dd>He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty. </dd>
<dt><br /></dt>
<dd>I will say of the LORD, "He is my refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust."</dd>
<dt><br /></dt>
<dd>Surely he will save you from the fowler's snare and from the deadly pestilence.</dd>
<dt><br /></dt>
<dd>He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge; </dd><dd>his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart.</dd>
<dt><br /></dt>
<dd>You will not fear the terror of night, nor the arrow that flies by day,</dd>
<dt><br /></dt>
<dd>nor the pestilence that stalks in the darkness, nor the plague that destroys at midday.</dd>
<dt><br /></dt>
<dd>A thousand may fall at your side, ten thousand at your right hand, but it will not come near you.</dd>
<dt><br /></dt>
<dd>You will only observe with your eyes and see the punishment of the wicked.</dd>
<dt><br /></dt>
<dd>If you make the Most High your dwelling-- even the LORD, who is my refuge--</dd>
<dt><br /></dt>
<dd>then no harm will befall you, no disaster will come near your tent.</dd>
<dt><br /></dt>
<dd>For he will command his angels concerning you to guard you in all your ways;</dd>
<dt><br /></dt>
<dd>they will lift you up in their hands, so that you will not strike your foot against a stone.</dd>
<dt><br /></dt>
<dd>You will tread upon the lion and the cobra; you will trample the great lion and the serpent.</dd>
<dt><br /></dt>
<dd>"Because he loves me," says the LORD, "I will rescue him; I will protect him, for he acknowledges my name.</dd>
<dt><br /></dt>
<dd>He will call upon me, and I will answer him; I will be with him in trouble, I will deliver him and honor him.</dd>
<dt><br /></dt>
<dd>With long life will I satisfy him and show him my salvation."</dd><dd><br /></dd></dl>
As I focused on the rhythm of the words and their truth,<br />
(not Miss Pedder and my mind numbing terror),<br />
I was able to lock in on my objective....getting to the end of the test.<br />
<br />
And the crazy thing was, I did it.<br />
And in an earth shattering moment, Miss Pedder responded with two words, "Good girl."<br />
The sky broke open.<br />
Love and hope rained down.<br />
Gum drops and rainbows were unleashed.<br />
And I floated back to my seat.<br />
I had passed.<br />
<br />
Here's the thing. There are a whole lot of us that are having a Miss Pedder moment.<br />
We are crazy scared right now.<br />
There are gut rumbles, pit leakage and maybe even some diarrhea.<br />
<br />
We are facing a season of uncertainty and who would have thought it,<br />
"a plague that destroys at midday."<br />
We feel isolated. Nervous. Alone.<br />
And some of us are eating so much ice cream we can only wear<br />
stretchy pants. (Bless our hearts.)<br />
<br />
We are scared for ourselves and those we love.<br />
Some of us are sick, most of us are sick with worry.<br />
There is so little control to be had.<br />
Being scared is a part of being human.<br />
<br />
But the truth is...God is inviting us to sink into His truth and rhythm in this fearful moment.<br />
It is a rhythm of trusting Him with every single thing.<br />
Our people. Our health. Our finances. Our dreams. Our futures.<br />
<br />
He wants to cover us with His feathers.<br />
He wants to give us refuge under His wings.<br />
He wants to shield us with His faithfulness.<br />
<br />
No matter what today holds or the eventual outcome...<br />
we can find a place to rest in His hope.<br />
<br />
It's a different kind of sheltering in place.<br />
We are sheltering in Him.<br />
<br />
As we encourage each other and dig into His truth, we will pass the test.<br />
As we pray for each other, bringing each other before the Creator of the Universe,<br />
He is reminding us that He alone, is our refuge.<br />
He is with us.<br />
He will rescue us.<br />
He is protecting us.<br />
He is answering our calls.<br />
He is commanding his angels concerning us.<br />
He is saving us.<br />
And most importantly,<br />
He is loving us. Wholly. Completely. For all of eternity.<br />
<br />
And that is way better than a "good girl."<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgM_N8U-oRD1zkymyJn0uLv5fbvImVxogQ2C6rtAegw2cc1q5sDeBTogOEwP-4CQrJlWQUrcNEdH5yLYGfLqhlf-l5BY4fdObqOHXLjYggp3nv8_M0QWRLD5n6qzm0bbxP6wyf73M3jpU4/s1600/susanna+foth+aughtmon+is+a+writer%252C+speaker+and+dark+chocolate+lover..jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="315" data-original-width="851" height="146" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgM_N8U-oRD1zkymyJn0uLv5fbvImVxogQ2C6rtAegw2cc1q5sDeBTogOEwP-4CQrJlWQUrcNEdH5yLYGfLqhlf-l5BY4fdObqOHXLjYggp3nv8_M0QWRLD5n6qzm0bbxP6wyf73M3jpU4/s400/susanna+foth+aughtmon+is+a+writer%252C+speaker+and+dark+chocolate+lover..jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<br />susannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10793027318859627527noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3736122013539663895.post-12775830468549257772020-03-27T11:25:00.001-07:002020-03-27T11:38:44.814-07:00Don't. Cut. Your. Hair. Learn from my mistakes, people.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO4jbQlC9F6ORWmEpRY0ihyphenhyphenO-gAYEV4fa69_Jn8P-d6H5c2AO1sv1tGEvk_LE9wGLnHRjl2ymwnHp8YQ4Wew2db3H4EdDiW4Uhya_HeETfuoaD6b4i63aMQckcfWJlPGAWtc40nh79oFQ5/s1600/don%2527t+cut+your+hair.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="591" data-original-width="1004" height="235" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO4jbQlC9F6ORWmEpRY0ihyphenhyphenO-gAYEV4fa69_Jn8P-d6H5c2AO1sv1tGEvk_LE9wGLnHRjl2ymwnHp8YQ4Wew2db3H4EdDiW4Uhya_HeETfuoaD6b4i63aMQckcfWJlPGAWtc40nh79oFQ5/s400/don%2527t+cut+your+hair.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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Okay, dearest of freinds.<br />
<br />
After a writing hiatus, I am back.<br />
<br />
Because of a bang emergency.<br />
<br />
I know we are all social distancing and nervously counting our toilet paper supply,<br />
but now is not the time to pull out the scissors.<br />
<br />
Do not...I repeat...do not cut your hair.<br />
Not the front.<br />
Or the back.<br />
Or the sides.<br />
Just let it grow right on out.<br />
It is going to be okay.<br />
Use some barrettes.<br />
Or a side pony.<br />
Whatever will get you through.<br />
<br />
Panic or boredom cutting leads to hair-pocalypses.<br />
<br />
<br />
Like this...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk-E2kp-UeAma-2jjhoxabssnJkjBtlHNJDiaUEj6w1ut9kAs9eQtQoxuS5QNhWSGXCbmPjgh-w_dvPNeMRRYNHGuHUR4vQ9LuXL_P19TN_F5athV7EDxI4GaN8-dmMGd6_bl5T7DE25ur/s1600/corona+bangs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="268" data-original-width="700" height="152" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk-E2kp-UeAma-2jjhoxabssnJkjBtlHNJDiaUEj6w1ut9kAs9eQtQoxuS5QNhWSGXCbmPjgh-w_dvPNeMRRYNHGuHUR4vQ9LuXL_P19TN_F5athV7EDxI4GaN8-dmMGd6_bl5T7DE25ur/s400/corona+bangs.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
and this<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRgqetTUckW1yNlNQuyPpod1u4PRofwLWG3Q2tlqDH9xU48Up8McVW0uVxEYI9RC5CuBBWf5VJ1P3vom9I7LiqSIzPCHnb9JzD7U7X6ZIqPym99A2i31zai-bQ4ZOXZ_ogBFRZo8RHzA-s/s1600/corona+bowl.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="802" data-original-width="700" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRgqetTUckW1yNlNQuyPpod1u4PRofwLWG3Q2tlqDH9xU48Up8McVW0uVxEYI9RC5CuBBWf5VJ1P3vom9I7LiqSIzPCHnb9JzD7U7X6ZIqPym99A2i31zai-bQ4ZOXZ_ogBFRZo8RHzA-s/s400/corona+bowl.jpg" width="348" /></a></div>
and this<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyMnQmOPviTlac1wcEeEcTOJSjovDuGiXl_-dUelLfcKXGxIsWlIWso0mMqtx-WrLQc1arrVS5rXSJAotDCsTuGQdO7GFta7ekuqUxEFISfgiAg2iOoJJni7vPfBFrxmfLqUBwBIkZEc3A/s1600/coronaromulon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="560" data-original-width="700" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyMnQmOPviTlac1wcEeEcTOJSjovDuGiXl_-dUelLfcKXGxIsWlIWso0mMqtx-WrLQc1arrVS5rXSJAotDCsTuGQdO7GFta7ekuqUxEFISfgiAg2iOoJJni7vPfBFrxmfLqUBwBIkZEc3A/s400/coronaromulon.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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Ok. I had to stop for a minute with that one. It is the best in so many ways.</div>
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But I don't judge them.</div>
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I only have heartfelt wishes and hair growing hopes for all of them. I have been there. Done that. </div>
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Because.... Bangtastrophe of 2009.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_qqSf8Vv-o_86S3Hn92QnRYf1ZlZUivLqdlVsa1Ob3YvhnWSfm8HCgey4bDnWlAHOm4B_qU6LaUDASSKK44l__ipCWaCBIDLWnnpl4VBwBglRc8wdqtBbbjRJGisgJGqpbincUfylCRM2/s1600/bangs.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="240" data-original-width="320" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_qqSf8Vv-o_86S3Hn92QnRYf1ZlZUivLqdlVsa1Ob3YvhnWSfm8HCgey4bDnWlAHOm4B_qU6LaUDASSKK44l__ipCWaCBIDLWnnpl4VBwBglRc8wdqtBbbjRJGisgJGqpbincUfylCRM2/s400/bangs.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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Stay strong, guys. Love your people. And put the scissors down. Go with God!</div>
susannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10793027318859627527noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3736122013539663895.post-11364153349375507182019-12-09T10:22:00.002-08:002019-12-09T10:27:53.035-08:005 Christmas dance jams to bring you joy (and horrify your teenagers)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu6hW6Y-UehQkiPU9k7ZafywIKu35YHS-wv_Od5lhlPTjmBG1EfxeCb5sbP79I-6Zb9vokYs255AHoNiSWLvB1fYiV6ZdTXoniEtosAbprw7SwoY2iRndox2DICeWo0mmUywHSitUBrb5L/s1600/5+Christmas+Dance+Jams.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="800" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu6hW6Y-UehQkiPU9k7ZafywIKu35YHS-wv_Od5lhlPTjmBG1EfxeCb5sbP79I-6Zb9vokYs255AHoNiSWLvB1fYiV6ZdTXoniEtosAbprw7SwoY2iRndox2DICeWo0mmUywHSitUBrb5L/s400/5+Christmas+Dance+Jams.png" width="400" /></a></div>
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So one of the things that I love most about Christmas is THE MUSIC!<br />
Can anything be more cheery? More joyful? More dance-able?<br />
<br />
The other night Scott and I had a Christmas playlist on while getting dinner ready.<br />
Will and Addie were upstairs doing homework and playing video games.<br />
<br />
The music was so fun and so upbeat, we had to dance.<br />
We brought out all the dances we knew...<br />
the running man, the prep, the twist,<br />
the early Jackson Five moves that whip your head from side to side.<br />
Because...Christmas music, you guys!<br />
<br />
We danced in the kitchen.<br />
We danced in the living room.<br />
We danced our way upstairs.<br />
<br />
We took all that dancing joy UP TO THE CHILDREN.<br />
<br />
Addie looked up from Fort Night with horror in his eyes and said,<br />
"Wait. Why?"<br />
<br />
As if there needs to be a "why" for jamming to Christmas songs.<br />
<br />
Note to self:<br />
If you are dancing to Christmas songs and want to horrify the children even more,<br />
just say things like:<br />
<br />
"Don't you think our jams are jolly?" or<br />
"Do you want to jam with us?" or<br />
"Christmas jams rock!"<br />
<br />
The important thing is to say "jams" as many times as possible.<br />
The increase of horror is directly related to the frequency with which you say the word "jam."<br />
<br />
We busted into Will's room where he was talking online with friends.<br />
He glanced over his shoulder and said, "It's my mom and dad."<br />
When he saw our smooth moves, he just repeatedly said,<br />
"No."<br />
"No."<br />
"No."<br />
<br />
As if saying "no" would stop all our jammin'. Christmas jammin' rocks!<br />
<br />
To teenagers, one parent dancing is bad.<br />
Both parents dancing?<br />
A complete travesty. A breakdown of all that is good and right. A betrayal.<br />
It's okay, though.<br />
They will get over it 25 years from now when they are dancing in front of their own teenagers.<br />
<br />
We couldn't stop laughing.<br />
It really did increase our joy.<br />
<br />
So I thought I would share that joy with you.<br />
Here is a playlist for you to dance to you.<br />
Jam with joy!<br />
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Get your swing on!</div>
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Get your tap dance on! Kids love it when you fake tap dance!!!</div>
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Get your groove on!</div>
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Get your hip hop on!</div>
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Get your jam on!</div>
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Merry Christmas early, you guys!</div>
susannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10793027318859627527noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3736122013539663895.post-83270571740040770052019-11-16T11:42:00.001-08:002019-11-16T11:42:25.225-08:00I'll take a cup of coffee, hold the comparison and condemnation, please...<br />
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You guys.<br />
<br />
I had this wild idea when we moved 4 months ago,<br />
that the things I battled with for the last two years (fear, anxiety, sleep deprivation)<br />
would ease up once I wasn't teaching anymore.<br />
<br />
I thought once the stress was gone, I would go back to being the same old Sue.<br />
The only problem is, I am not the same Sue.<br />
<br />
The last season of my life re-shaped me. Challenged me. Left me doubting myself.<br />
This new season finds me a little undone.<br />
<br />
In this space of feeling vulnerable and unsure of myself,<br />
<br />
I have felt some old thought patterns trying to edge their way back into my thinking.<br />
<br />
I have been waking up in the morning with thoughts crowding my mind...<br />
<br />
These thoughts say...<br />
<i>I should do better and be better at <b>mostly everything in the world</b> because I am failing </i><br />
<i>pretty regularly at the things I hold most dear</i>.<br />
<br />
<b>They tell me that I should be a....</b><br />
<br />
Better mom. Better wife. Better Jesus follower. Better sister. Better daughter. Better writer. Better writing coach. Better friend. Better shopper. Better housekeeper. Better bill payer. Better money manager. Better blogger. Better gardener. Better church member. Better e-mailer. Better missions supporter. Better....better....better.....<br />
<br />
And when I say "better" what I mean is that somewhere deep down....<br />
<br />
I feel like<br />
I SHOULD BE ABLE TO ACHIEVE PERFECTION EVERY DAY IN EVERY AREA<br />
of my life.<br />
<br />
<b>I compare myself with the version of myself that I think I should be....</b><br />
and when I don't measure up to my own unattainable standard,<br />
<b>I sink into a bog of condemnation</b>,<br />
which sucks all joy and purpose out of my day.<br />
<br />
That's all.<br />
<br />
It's a rough way to start the day. I won't lie.<br />
<br />
So this morning, as I sip my morning cup of coffee,<br />
I just thought I would let you know,<br />
<b>these thoughts are stupid.</b><br />
Truly illogical .<br />
Could they get any more unrealistic?<br />
COULD THEY?<br />
<br />
You guys.<br />
<br />
There will never be a day, this side of heaven, where I have the option of perfection.<br />
I know that in my mind...but somehow the doubt and fear keep working their way into my heart.<br />
<br />
The wildest deception of all is thinking that<br />
<i>I can actually attain and achieve perfection,</i><br />
<i>and maintain that state, every day of my whole life.</i><br />
<br />
That sounds so much like pride...I don't know what else to call it.<br />
Dumbness? Crazy Pants Talk? Ridiculousity?<br />
(I made that one up but I am going to start using it.)<br />
<br />
Where is this load of inner prideful poppycock coming from????<br />
<br />
I think in these last few years with all the changes with our family,<br />
our church, and the stress of a new career...<br />
<br />
I can look back and see where I failed. All the things I would have done differently if I could.<br />
In those days of high stress, I was irritable, angsty, tired, depressed, and short-tempered.<br />
I didn't have the grace or the bandwidth to be the kind of wife and mom I knew I should be.<br />
My family bore the brunt of my stress.<br />
<br />
I wasn't the person that I wanted to be then...<br />
and I don't know how to remedy that now.<br />
<br />
But the Person Who loves me most of all?<br />
He isn't having it.<br />
<br />
All this crazy talk about trying to be perfect? He isn't standing for that nonsense.<br />
<br />
He calls me out in His word.<br />
<br />
Romans 3:23 doesn't say,<br />
For <b>all have sinned</b> and fallen short of the glory of God....except for Susanna?<br />
Nope. It doesn't.<br />
The Bible also doesn't say if Susanna tries hard enough she will become perfect<br />
and be able to handle all that life brings her way...<br />
the good, the bad, and the ugly...on her own.<br />
<br />
I've looked. It's not in there.<br />
<br />
Jesus knows I am not perfect.<br />
He is simply holding out His arms, in this season of doubt and fear, and reminding me...<br />
that I am His.<br />
<br />
He knows I am going to make mistakes...until the day I die.<br />
That is a given.<br />
<br />
But He has a different plan than beating me over the head with my failures.<br />
He has decided that He is going to love me and lead me in His way,<br />
changing me from the inside out...one angsty moment at a time.<br />
<br />
This life is not about me being perfect. It is about my life bringing Him glory.<br />
<i>Am I going to let Jesus do what He wants to do in and through me, despite my failures,</i><br />
<i>sins, and fears?</i><br />
<br />
Pride is all about me, but He is all about love.<br />
<br />
He is all about mercy and forgiveness and joy and peace.<br />
<br />
He sets the standard.<br />He gets to decide who I am.<br />
He gets to re-shape my life with His grace.<br />
He gets to remind me that perfection is out, but healing and hope are in.<br />
<br />
He is meeting me...and you...right here...right now...with a strong dose of love.<br />
An ocean of love.<br />
A love so big that the universe cannot and will not ever contain it.<br />
<br />
And if we lean into it, we don't have to be the same anymore.<br />
<br />
And there is nothing ridiculous about that.susannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10793027318859627527noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3736122013539663895.post-91892137427580366972019-09-16T10:44:00.002-07:002019-09-16T11:26:44.869-07:00luckily, there is no body cam footage of my poor life choices<br />
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Yesterday, Addison and I were sitting on our couch taking in our<br />
gagillionth episode of <i>Live PD: PD Cam</i>.<br />
<br />
For those of you who don't know, this is a show filmed completely<br />
from the point of view of police officers' body cameras, dashboard cameras, or helicopter cameras.<br />
<br />
I used to watch romantic comedies.<br />
Now I live with teenage boys and watch shows about people getting arrested.<br />
I am hoping my sons are picking up some life lessons here.<br />
<br />
Don't do drugs. Or get drunk. Or steal guns. Or run from the law.<br />
Always keep your pants on. Always.<br />
It is amazing how many folks wander around in a state of undress.<br />
<br />
The episodes are riveting. You are getting to see the valiant work that these officers<br />
do on our behalf and the danger that they constantly put themselves in to protect<br />
and serve their communities.<br />
<br />
It is also riveting because the people breaking the law...have no common sense whatsoever.<br />
I bless their hearts left and right.<br />
<br />
"Why did he do that? Bless his heart."<br />
"Can't she see that she is making it worse? Bless her heart."<br />
<br />
You can't help feeling for them and their families.<br />
You know that their impulsive decision making is wreaking havoc on their lives.<br />
<br />
And because I become a part of whatever medium I am watching,<br />
I try to coach them as they are making their horrific, poor choices.<br />
<br />
"Stop hitting people!"<br />
<br />
"Sweet mercy days! Why would you swallow all your drugs?"<br />
<br />
"Don't flee the scene!" ( I am picking up police lingo on the side.)<br />
<br />
"Just stop lying! He knows that is not your car!"<br />
<br />
One of my more stellar comments yesterday was,<br />
<br />
"Why are you so dumb?"<br />
<br />
At this comment, Addison turned to me and said, "Mom, every person on this show is dumb."<br />
<br />
To this I said, "Well, Jesus gives us brains and He wants us to use them."<br />
<br />
He raised an eyebrow. "Mom, I am pretty sure that it doesn't say that anywhere in the Bible."<br />
<br />
He had me there.<br />
<br />
There is no commandment: Thou shalt not be dumb.<br />
<br />
There is no verse reading: For heaven sakes, use the brain I gave you. Verily.<br />
<br />
If there was, you should know that I have broken those commands a-plenty.<br />
<br />
I just haven't had all my poor decisions filmed on a body cam...<br />
and I will not be allowing drones in my living room any time soon.<br />
<br />
What I do have, however, is a memory that tends to play back every poor decision<br />
I have made on a regular basis. It's disheartening.<br />
<br />
Worse than a 30 minute episode of <i>PD Cam</i>.<br />
<br />
I tend to be fantastic at making poorly thought out, selfish choices.<br />
My impulsive decisions can tend to wreak havoc on the ones I love most of all.<br />
<br />
But here is the beautiful thing I am focusing on today.<br />
<br />
I can't change the bad decisions I have made in my past.<br />
<br />
But I can lean into the grace of Jesus and His goodness, going forward.<br />
The crazy thing? Jesus' doesn't hold my sins against me.<br />
<br />
He doesn't condemn me.<br />
<br />
He has thrown open His arms to me and said,<br />
"I love you so much. Let me forgive you for that giant mess you made.<br />
And save you from yourself. Does that work for you?"<br />
<br />
It does.<br />
He is my help. And my shield.<br />
He is going before me.<br />
Making a way so that I don't have to make the same poor choices I did before.<br />
<br />
With forgiveness and hope,<br />
He is inviting me to trust Him to complete the good work He has begun in me.<br />
<br />
Grounded in love.<br />
Trusting His truth.<br />
<br />
He leads me on His path of righteousness.<br />
He transforms my thinking so that I can walk in His way.<br />
He is making me into a new creation.<br />
<br />
He is doing the same for you.<br />
<br />
Bless our hearts.<br />
<br />
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<br />susannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10793027318859627527noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3736122013539663895.post-59463802195937371342019-08-30T17:50:00.003-07:002019-08-30T17:50:51.963-07:00My baby is gone, you guys (I am referencing my first born...not a Motown top 40 record)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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So we left our oldest child Jack at Azusa Pacific last Sunday in Los Angeles...<br />
and flew home to Idaho.<br />
<br />
He is officially in college. Thousands of miles away.<br />
(It's only hundreds of miles but it feels like millions...so I went with thousands.)<br />
<br />
Jack is living with strangers. Eating cafeteria food. Talking to people I have never met.<br />
<br />
He has been gone for 5 days.<br />
5 days.<br />
<br />
It seems so weird.<br />
My whole mothering life...the past 18 years...<br />
the world has impressed upon me the importance of NOT LEAVING MY CHILD.<br />
<br />
Don't leave him in the grocery store or they will call CPS.<br />
Don't leave him late at school or you will pay a late fee.<br />
Don't leave him at the library. (Ok. Maybe leave him at the library. It'll grow his brains.)<br />
Definitely don't leave him in dark places late at night. There are murderers out there. Somewhere.<br />
<br />
I took all those things to heart. Especially "the dark places late at night" one.<br />
I have watched way too many <i>Forensic Files</i> episodes.<br />
<br />
It was and is my job, as mom, to keep that kid close.<br />
Let him know he is held and loved.<br />
Let him know that he is protected and safe.<br />
Let him know that whenever he calls, I am RIGHT THERE.<br />
<br />
Then last Sunday...the world changed its mind.<br />
It said, "Okay, LEAVE YOUR CHLD RIGHT NOW.<br />
(And if you don't leave him...you are a clingy weirdo.)<br />
<br />
This is cruel and unusual punishment, folks.<br />
<br />
<i>Does the world think this mom's heart can make a monumental shift like that </i><br />
<i>over </i><i>a Welcome Weekend at college? </i>Think again.<br />
<br />
I get it. Jack is a young man.<br />
He is ready to fly.<br />
He needs to spread his wings without mama bird hovering over him.<br />
<br />
But, you guys, ALL I KNOW HOW TO DO IS HOVER.<br />
I am a WORLD CLASS hover-er.<br />
<br />
My heart, my life, my schedule...has been tethered to Jack's for almost two decades.<br />
We have been doing life in tandem since I first stared into his wide bright infant eyes.<br />
<br />
And now I don't even know what snacks he is eating.<br />
<i>Do I sound like a stalker?</i> Don't answer that.<br />
<br />
So I am working on letting that love-worn tether fall...<br />
the one that held me so close to the ins and outs of Jack's days.<br />
Because...he has outgrown it.<br />
<br />
I am slipping out from under that close halter of young motherhood so that Jack can soar.<br />
<br />
It feels a whole lot like grief.<br />
An unravelling of what once was.<br />
<br />
Our second son, Will, was talking to me in the car the other day.<br />
He mentioned something about his school and tears sprang to my eyes.<br />
My voice caught in my throat when I tried to answer him.<br />
<br />
He looked at me, shocked. "Mom, are you crying?"<br />
"I miss Jack."<br />
"Mom, you can't just start crying out of nowhere. We weren't even talking about Jack.<br />
We were talking about school. You have to give people some warning."<br />
<br />
I told him very serioulsy, "I hope you know that you are never leaving for college."<br />
Will just shook his head and patted my knee. "Oh, Mom."<br />
<br />
I know that Will is already planning his escape. But I am choosing to live in denial.<br />
<br />
This whole thing about growing little people up and then flinging them out into the world...<br />
far away from you...it's super dumb.<br />
<br />
It felt completely normal when I was the child taking flight all those long years ago.<br />
I ran with great joy towards my college years.<br />
<br />
But as the parent? If feels like someone (the college president?) is saying,<br />
"Let me just rip out your heart right out. Okay. Now go back to Idaho."<br />
<br />
Leaving your people is the worst. Because you like them so much.<br />
<br />
I know in the depths of my soul that this is just the first of many leavings.<br />
The first of many changes and frequent adjustments.<br />
But one thing that will not change...is how much I love Jack.<br />
<br />
My friend, Marie France, says that I am still his mom. I can love him just as much as ever...<br />
my job description has just changed.<br />
<br />
The unravelling of what once was...yields the knitting together of what will be.<br />
<br />
New ways of staying connected. New joy. New challenges. New hope.<br />
<br />
I know that I will be fine. (even with bouts of surprise crying)<br />
<br />
Jack, with all the shifting and growing and changing, will be more than fine.<br />
<br />
(Regardless of the fact that I am no longer privy to his snack choices.)<br />
<br />
Jack is hemmed in on all sides by the One Who loves him most of all.<br />
<br />
It is His job to keep that kid close.<br />
Let him know he is held and loved.<br />
Let him know that he is protected and safe.<br />
Let him know that whenever he calls, He is RIGHT THERE.<br />
<br />
There is no one who can hover like He does.<br />
<br />
So I am going to let Him.<br />
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<br />susannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10793027318859627527noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3736122013539663895.post-68767305022297169012019-08-11T08:16:00.000-07:002019-08-11T17:30:00.396-07:00the state that I'm in....that would be IdahoSo just a few things have happened in the 4 months since the last time I posted here on the blog...<br />
<br />
1. My second year of teaching came to an end.<br />
2. I decided that I will be returning to writing and editing full-time in the coming year.<br />
3. Our oldest son, Jack, graduated from high school giving one of the commencement addresses<br />
(Breakdown #1...so proud and torn all at the same time. I can feel him getting ready to fly.)<br />
4. My dad, Richard Foth, interviewed Jack and had him read his poignant & funny address for his podcast, <a href="https://www.known.fm/podcast" target="_blank">Known</a>. Take a listen.<br />
5. Our church plant of 14 years came to an end with a wonderful celebration of friends & family.<br />
(Breakdown #2 - we love those people like crazy)<br />
6. After pastoring since his late teenage years,<br />
Scott took a full-time position as a content marketer with a tech company.<br />
7. With parental help, we bought our first house.<br />
(Breakdown #3 - their gift of generosity wiped us right out!!!!)<br />
8. We packed up all of our earthly belongings in two pods.<br />
9. We said good-bye to all of our amazing friends and family in the Bay Area.<br />
10. We left Jack with friends in California so he could work until he starts college in August.<br />
(Breakdown #4 - leaving your kid in another state is THE WORST)<br />
11. We drove for 4 days...with our cat and dog...to my parents' house in Colorado.<br />
(Breakdown #5 - dogs and cats staying in your hotel room is trying to the soul)<br />
12. We recovered for a few days, left our two youngest, Will and Addison,<br />
with my parents and drove to Meridian, Idaho.<br />
13. We signed our lives away and got the keys to our house.<br />
(Breakdown #6 DREAM COME TRUE)<br />
14. We began to unpack our new home, getting acclamated to our new city.<br />
It feels new and weird and good. All at once.<br />
15. A week after we arrived, my parents drove up with Will and Addison.<br />
Will christened it by repeatedly jumping off of the stair landing to the floor below.<br />
16. Scott started his new job, jumping in feet first. He is pretty amazing. And cute.<br />
17. I registered the boys at their new school. The reality of the move is setting in.<br />
(Breakdown #7 Leaving good friends is heart-wrenching. Making new friends can BE HARD.)<br />
18. My parents helped us get settled, instructing us in the ways of homeowner's, a.k.a.:<br />
<i>what it means to manage your own sprinkler system and mow your own lawn. </i><br />
19. My folks left promising to return in September to help with planting. THEY ARE THE BEST!<br />
20. I re-broke my middle toe. I DON'T EVEN WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT.<br />
21. We attended our new church pastored by our friend Mike, with Will and Addie.<br />
(Breakdown #8 Starting at a new youth group is daunting. Making new friends can BE HARD.)<br />
22. Scott's parents drove up from California bringing Jack with them.<br />
This is what I felt like when Jack walked in the door.<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="giphy-embed" frameborder="0" height="361" src="https://giphy.com/embed/xTiTnw6Yg5nzWwQh5C" width="480"></iframe><br />
<a href="https://giphy.com/gifs/excited-japan-japanese-xTiTnw6Yg5nzWwQh5C">via GIPHY</a><br />
23. All 3 boys convened in Jack's room for brother time.<br />
(Breakdown #9 I love it when my boys love each other.)<br />
24. After 4 days, Jack flew home to finish up work and hang out with friends<br />
before leaving for school in 2 weeks.<br />
(Breakdown #10 I am finding out I can't handle my kid leaving me.)<br />
<br />
This is what I felt like when I dropped Jack off at the airport.<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="giphy-embed" frameborder="0" height="359" src="https://giphy.com/embed/jnQYWZ0T4mkhCmkzcn" width="480"></iframe><br />
<a href="https://giphy.com/gifs/sad-baby-crying-jnQYWZ0T4mkhCmkzcn">via GIPHY</a><br />
<br />
I am realizing that this journey of re-settling is going to be just that.<br />
A journey.<br />
Highs.<br />
Lows.<br />
Joy.<br />
Excessive and possibly unwarranted mom tears.<br />
<br />
In the next two weeks, Will and Addie will start a new school.<br />
We will all fly to California to see Jack off to college.<br />
And I will shake the dust off my teaching shoes, don my writing cap, and<br />
start writing...again.<br />
<br />
I feel like I am wearing someone else's clothes...<br />
like I don't quit fit in with this new life yet.<br />
<br />
I don't know how to mow lawns.<br />
Or get to the nearest Starbucks yet.<br />
I don't have Idaho people and my California people feel far away.<br />
My old website has been taken down for a revamp.<br />
I am still figuring out what new direction to take my writing in.<br />
And I keep feeling like I should be lesson planning and grading. (Teaching PTSD)<br />
<br />
But here is the thing.<br />
<br />
Jesus is on the move.<br />
This whole journey has hinged on miracle after miracle.<br />
There is no way that we would be here right now with out His<br />
unsurpassed, upending love.<br />
He has us in His palm. He is leading us. Guiding us.<br />
Setting our feet on a firm path of Idaho soil.<br />
<br />
He knows who our people will be.<br />
He knows that I long for my boys settle in and flourish.<br />
He knows I am excited to write.<br />
He knows that Jack is getting to spread his wings and fly.<br />
He knows that Scott is being challenged and loving growing in a new setting.<br />
<br />
He knows.<br />
He knows.<br />
He knows.<br />
<br />
And I for one, am ready for the journey.<br />
I am hoping you will come along for the ride.susannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10793027318859627527noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3736122013539663895.post-52157446589414678642019-03-31T09:14:00.000-07:002019-03-31T09:14:42.770-07:00Launching Young Men into the World (and other reasons why I keep tearing up in the car)<br />
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This week my youngest, Addison, turned 13.<br />
Will, our middle son, will turn 16 in less than two months.<br />
And two days ago, my oldest, Jack, turned 18.<br />
13. 16. 18.<br />
<br />
As a wise woman once said...."Holy Toledo."<br />
<br />
They are getting so big, these boys of mine.<br />
And therein, lies the rub....<br />
The bigger they get, the less they are mine...<br />
the more they are their own.<br />
<br />
Earlier in the week, I was driving Jack to play practice,<br />
and the tears began pouring down my cheeks.<br />
Mostly because the space around me was quiet enough for<br />
my subconscious thoughts to pierce through the chaos that is my mind.<br />
Jack looked at me, surprised and said, "Mom, are you okay?"<br />
With a crumpled face I looked at him and said, "I'm going to miss you, Jack."<br />
He put a hand on my shoulder and said, "Mom, I am going to miss you, too.<br />
And its okay. I will still visit you."<br />
<br />
Jack will be going to college in 5 months.<br />
I have said it out loud and now it is real.<br />
<br />
My Aunt Mary had 7 boys.<br />
She said that when they were very small<br />
it was as if they were held in the center of her palm with fingers closed,<br />
sheltered, protected, nestled in her care.<br />
As they got older, her hand opened, fingers out, palm flat,<br />
giving them a solid place to spring from, ready to fly.<br />
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Jack is ready to fly.<br />
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But deep in my soul, I have an urge to scrunch up my flat palm, squeeze it tight<br />
and make Jack stay. Just a little bit longer.<br />
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This is the thing.<br />
I have always thought my boys were the most beautiful boys in the world.<br />
(As all moms the world over do.).<br />
Getting to be these boys' mom has been my most life altering, heart wrenching and glorious work.<br />
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I can't imagine my day without the beauty, the joy, and strong presence of Jack.<br />
(CAN HE BE ANY CUTER?)<br />
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But I despite my deep inclinations to hold Jack so close,<br />
I am choosing to keep my palm flat...and steady.<br />
Just like my parents did for me.<br />
They let me go and discover the world on my own terms.<br />
I had their love and strength and wisdom backing me,<br />
but they let me fly and fall and fly again,<br />
always believing that Jesus would guide me and hold me close.<br />
<br />
I don't want to hold Jack back. I want him to soar.<br />
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He needs to be shaped and stretched.<br />
He needs to form his own decisions and his own faith.<br />
He needs follow his own path, discovering the world, both its beauty and it ugliness.<br />
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The ugliness part?<br />
That is hard for me to reckon with.<br />
But navigating the ugliness, in the world and in ourselves, that is what makes us grow.<br />
It shows us our desperate need for Jesus. For love and mercy. For goodness and hope.<br />
I know that Jack has to learn what we all have learned...<br />
that when the darkness surrounds him,<br />
when life is disappointing,<br />
when he fails himself or others,<br />
when he falls and has to get back up,<br />
when he is tired and disillusioned and wanting to give up,<br />
there is grace, unending abounding glorious grace, to be found. Enough for each day.<br />
He can know that Jesus is there with forgiveness and strength to hemming him in on every side.<br />
<br />
My prayer (HELP HIM, LORD) is that in the midst of this world's ugliness,<br />
Jack finds himself to be a bringer of hope and beauty.<br />
A conduit of laughter and wisdom.<br />
A Jesus follower that shapes the world around him with love.<br />
<br />
Because I believe the world needs a good dose of Jack.<br />
God has crafted Jack's heart and mind in a unique way.<br />
I see his care of others. His belief in himself and his friends.<br />
I see the way that he is able to take a complex thought and break it down<br />
so it is easily understood by those he is helping.<br />
I see how his laughter and goodness build others up.<br />
He has a way with words and can bring almost anyone around to see his side of things.<br />
He is trustworthy and generous and loyal and crazy smart.<br />
<br />
So. Here I am. I am realizing that in order for Jack to fly? I have to let go.<br />
<br />
Loosing the strong ties that have bound me to Jack? That is where the tears come in.<br />
I have been holding on tight. Super tight. Crazy Tight. Couldn't hold on any tighter.<br />
<br />
Because his journey is absolutely not going to follow that path that I would make it follow if<br />
I were the one calling the shots.<br />
<br />
I know this because I am a control freak and I have tried to make my own journey follow<br />
the path that I thought it should follow and it totally didn't, and hasn't. Not even this week.Which is completely frustrating and exhausting. Trying to control every minute detail of my life wipes me out.<br />
<br />
So Jesus is once again using my kids to show me that I need to...<br />
<br />
LET. GO. AND. TRUST. HIM. EVEN. WITH. JACK.<br />
<br />
So I am going to.<br />
<br />
I trust Jack. And I trust Jesus with Jack.<br />
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And I cannot wait to see him....fly.<br />
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<br />susannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10793027318859627527noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3736122013539663895.post-81843745147197826932019-02-09T11:20:00.000-08:002019-02-09T11:20:17.115-08:00i am not dead...just teaching middle school...and other big Aughtmon news<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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So.<br />
It has been about 5 months since my last post.<br />
Yep.<br />
Being homeroom teacher for 25 6th graders has seemed to edge out my blogging time....<br />
just a smidge.<br />
<br />
But I wanted to make sure that you all know that I am still alive and kicking.<br />
And that in this season of learning and growing and navigating a new teaching gig,<br />
that the Aughtmon crew is in the midst of a ginormous transition.<br />
<br />
In the way that Jesus does, He has us embarking on a new path.<br />
After much prayer and pow-wowing with our church in these last few months,<br />
Scott and our leadership team have determined that Pathway will be coming to end<br />
in June.<br />
<br />
After 14 years of loving and teaching and stretching and being together,<br />
this season is coming to an end. Over the next 5 months, we will be<br />
launching our church family into finding new church homes.<br />
<br />
And now I am crying into my keyboard. Because we all love each other like crazy.<br />
When Scott announced it to the church in December, we all had a good bawl together.<br />
You can know that this group of people are THE BEST!<br />
So we will be having a party to celebrate all that God has done in and through these folks<br />
for our last gathering. I am sure there will be lots of tears mixed in with the joy.<br />
<br />
As for our family, we are being launched into a new season of....<br />
not quite knowing what is next.<br />
It is funny how we can think that we know who we are and what we are and<br />
where we are going and then realize how amazingly little we know about almost everything.<br />
<br />
But here is what I do know. Jesus knows.<br />
He knows our next steps and our straightest path.<br />
He knows that I like to have a plan and I get a tad anxious with THE UNKNOWN.<br />
He knows that want my boys to feel safe and loved during this shift.<br />
He knows that I want Scott to feel supported and encouraged during this transition.<br />
<br />
(Let's be honest. Scott is doing almost all the supporting and encouraging right now.<br />
Because that is who he is! I am mostly eating a lot of chocolate.)<br />
<br />
You may be thinking, "Sue, aren't you freaking out?"<br />
OF COURSE I AM.<br />
<br />
I have a Ph.D. in Freak-out-ology.<br />
<br />
But with these past two years of my transition to teaching,<br />
working as an project editor instead of a writer,<br />
moving from our beloved home of 11 years to a tiny house,<br />
moving from the tiny house to a city 40 minutes away from family and friend,<br />
and getting ready to send Jack off to college this fall...<br />
I am thinking....I am tired of freaking out.<br />
<br />
So I am moving towards a place of faith. Of believing what I can't see.<br />
Of reaching out to my people in my dark moments and asking for prayer<br />
when I can't sleep or have heart palpitations or get lost in worrisome thoughts.<br />
Of leaning into Scott and his love for me while we wrestle with next steps.<br />
Of encouraging my boys to know that if we trust Jesus, He will make our paths straight.<br />
<br />
Jesus always does.<br />
He always brings light and clarity and hope.<br />
(Usually way later than I am hoping for...I tend to get impatient.)<br />
<br />
So I wanted you all in on the journey with me. Because, you are my people, too.<br />
In these last 10 years of blogging (10 YEARS, YOU GUYS!!!)<br />
your words of encouragement,<br />
the sense of solidarity your sisterhood (and brotherhood...come on, I know you guys read, too)<br />
has lent me,<br />
and companionship you have offered me on this crazy life journey...<br />
have been both monumental and instrumental in my own life.<br />
<br />
I think YOU ARE THE BEST!<br />
<br />
So I will keep you posted about what is coming next.<br />
As soon as Jesus tells me....<br />
<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Susanna-Foth-Aughtmon/e/B001JSBMR2" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="315" data-original-width="851" height="147" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgM_N8U-oRD1zkymyJn0uLv5fbvImVxogQ2C6rtAegw2cc1q5sDeBTogOEwP-4CQrJlWQUrcNEdH5yLYGfLqhlf-l5BY4fdObqOHXLjYggp3nv8_M0QWRLD5n6qzm0bbxP6wyf73M3jpU4/s400/susanna+foth+aughtmon+is+a+writer%252C+speaker+and+dark+chocolate+lover..jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />susannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10793027318859627527noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3736122013539663895.post-17618468690704496272018-09-08T11:43:00.001-07:002018-09-08T13:49:28.820-07:00you are my density....or my destiny<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB4A81NVXrQew521fh1LxG-ulZoqR-WgL-6RAYsaszfs_r47oQSKearVN18o74FkJvtLRmI0YNf7Zht_FOhgHUtUnhLnJGWfBOiy6sPHxXjo5iSPrZRnDAt0vDzOOVaY5QtPXPd7gfU5nh/s1600/You+are+my+density.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="800" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB4A81NVXrQew521fh1LxG-ulZoqR-WgL-6RAYsaszfs_r47oQSKearVN18o74FkJvtLRmI0YNf7Zht_FOhgHUtUnhLnJGWfBOiy6sPHxXjo5iSPrZRnDAt0vDzOOVaY5QtPXPd7gfU5nh/s400/You+are+my+density.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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Yesterday was one of those days where I had Jen Hatmaker's phrase come to mind,<br />
"Fix it, Jesus, fix it."<br />
<br />
I sat at my desk after my last class pondering how the class had gone down.<br />
Thinking about my lesson. My approach. My ability to challenge young minds.<br />
My classroom management skillz. Skillz with a <i>z</i> because <i>z </i>stands for <i>zero</i>.<br />
<br />
Then my mind shifted to my house that I was headed home to.<br />
The one that looks like the <i>Wreck of the Hesperus</i>.<br />
This ship is featured in a maritime poem in where said ship was obliterated.<br />
That would be my living room.<br />
I have this weird thing where if my house is a wreck..I feel like a wreck.<br />
<br />
And then I thought about how I am pretty sure that<br />
2/3 of my boys did not pack their lunch and had eaten air or dollar cup o' noodles<br />
from the snack bar, which is sure to petrify their insides with monosodium glutamate.<br />
<br />
Then my super positive train of thought led me to think about<br />
the pile of grading on my desk,<br />
the devotions I am editing over the weekend,<br />
the week-long field trip I am prepping for in 2 weeks,<br />
the retreat I am speaking at in 3 weeks, and<br />
the fact that Scott and I haven't gone a real date in...I actually can't remember how long.<br />
<br />
Then the thought popped into my mind that Jack will be leaving for college in less than a year.<br />
That thought alone lays me out flat. Oh..and that he needs tennis shoes. There's that.<br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>(I am not kidding, people, this is exactly how my mind works. PRAY HEAVY.)</b><br />
<br />
Then I think,<br />
<i>Am I doing what am I am supposed to be doing right now? </i><br />
<i>Is there something that I am missing? </i><br />
<i>Is there some way that I can sew up all the jagged edges of my soul</i><br />
<i>and make this </i><i>piecemeal life of mine have some semblance of order? </i><br />
<i>Am I missing out on my destiny and that is why life feels so wild?</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
(<b>And by destiny, I clearly mean, a life without issues, tragedy, stress, and cup o' noodles?</b>)<br />
<br />
The word "destiny" always reminds me of George McFly in <i>Back to the Future </i>approaching<br />
his future wife and saying, "You are my density."<br />
<br />
Maybe in this season...my destiny (or density) is in question. Because I feel undone.<br />
<br />
So. Then we come back to the clearly needed prayer of "Fix it, Jesus, fix it."<br />
<br />
And as I was doing all this thinking (worrying, kvetching, sulking, stressing out) yesterday,<br />
I was struck by the thought (HOLY SPIRIT, IS THAT YOU?)<br />
that <b>Jesus may not be that concerned about altering my circumstances.</b><br />
Of course, there are moments in time when yes, absolutely,<br />
in order to bring hope or healing or change that<br />
He shifts the earth on its axis to change the course of my life<br />
(marriage, motherhood, speaking in public, teaching middle school, anyone?)<br />
<br />
But mostly, in the ordinary every day scheme of things?<br />
<br />
He is using my circumstances to shape my soul.<br />
Those rough uneven edges of my life are whittling away all pretenses and pride.<br />
I am in desperate need of a Savior...and it shows.<br />
<br />
The pressure of work and home and church and parenting are squeezing me.<br />
What is coming out? Apparently some anger, discontentment, and a hearty helping of sarcasm.<br />
I get snarky when life feels tight and overwhelming.<br />
<br />
And the people that surround me? Jesus has them there to show me who I am.<br />
I see my life mirrored in their eyes.<br />
<i>Am I loving? Am I forgiving? Am I gentle with my words? Am I ushering in hope and peace?</i><br />
I don't know.<br />
<i>What are my people saying? How are they feeling around me? </i><br />
<i>Is Jesus spilling out of me when life is cracking open my heart?</i><br />
Maybe. Sometimes. Possibly not yesterday.<br />
<br />
These pressures and hard places and impossible challenges...this life that I am living...<br />
Jesus doesn't want to "fix it."<br />
<br />
He is fixing....me.<br />
With love and hope and prodding and prying and some uncomfortable situations.<br />
He is allowing this world and all of its imperfectness to rub against my hopes and dreams<br />
and reveal my destiny.<br />
<br />
My destiny is not about what I am doing.<br />
It is about who I am becoming.<br />
And WHOSE I am becoming.<br />
<br />
A little more each day...we are becoming...like Him.<br />
From glory to glory.<br />
(Or from <i>Wreck of the Hesperus</i> to <i>Wreck of the Hesperus</i>...it means the same thing.)<br />
Our character is revealed more in our failures than our successes.<br />
Our hearts are re-shaped during trials and struggles.<br />
<br />
His glory at work in you and me...in real life...right now.<br />
And if we let Him...He will use every single thing in our lives,<br />
the good, the bad, the ugly, the beautiful, the difficult and the joyful,<br />
to pour out His life through ours.<br />
A collaborative destiny.<br />
<br />
And that is a beautiful destiny to be a part of, don't you think?<br />
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<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Susanna-Foth-Aughtmon/e/B001JSBMR2/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_2?qid=1536432098&sr=8-2-fkmr0" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="315" data-original-width="851" height="147" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd3DXaykmNq_nG720D78tLVbcUNf1-AIehdR9kxza5nfEtkllRBXj36AE1WSZrUCbMeO0PURq7hVZYz9y907YMqI7ajsLevf1N9luVKutW-nmuuASLZl7dmSHPlq3C-j4drkASAhqZ23OJ/s400/susanna+foth+aughtmon+is+a+writer%252C+speaker+and+dark+chocolate+lover..jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />susannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10793027318859627527noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3736122013539663895.post-13748029913781479412018-09-01T11:05:00.000-07:002018-09-01T14:35:46.587-07:00and the moral of the story is...don't take the trash out at 4:00 a.m.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6w-nZyYJvKZPlY_tyubZFQFRNALypPHd7xM3U8y8PtR5pBE7Is-nNk17od80Ce2SAZvUI4scdG3q-4qlR1jrWz30y-BjazTFlVMkE5J5Xn2rEG5dRQ6qgceK-pNujrE2P6G2QMyLi4b2p/s1600/trash.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="800" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6w-nZyYJvKZPlY_tyubZFQFRNALypPHd7xM3U8y8PtR5pBE7Is-nNk17od80Ce2SAZvUI4scdG3q-4qlR1jrWz30y-BjazTFlVMkE5J5Xn2rEG5dRQ6qgceK-pNujrE2P6G2QMyLi4b2p/s1600/trash.png" width="400" /></a></div>
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These first three weeks of teaching 6th grade have had an interesting side effect.<br />
I keep waking up at 4:00 in the morning.<br />
Even though I am crazy tired.<br />
My brain is saying, "Right now, in the pitch black of early morning, why not think about grammar?"<br />
And then I think, <i>Maybe I should get up and take advantage of this time...even though I am running on about 5.7 hours of sleep, my eyes feel like sand and I feel like crying a little.</i><br />
Then my body responds to my brain by saying,<br />
"Stay where you are. Don't move. Don't get up. Nothing good can come of it."<br />
<br />
So I have been lying in bed, for another hour and a half, tossing and turning,<br />
worrying, running through weird classroom scenarios and questioning my lesson plans<br />
until I rise, thoroughly exhausted, at 5:30.<br />
<br />
Super fun.<br />
<br />
All that to say...Scott, Jack and Will were away on high school retreat this week<br />
and Thursday morning, I woke up at, you guessed it, 4:00 a.m.<br />
Just in time to realize that I was hearing the garbage truck barreling down the street.<br />
And just in time to realize that Addie and I had forgotten to drag our trash and recycling to the curb.<br />
<br />
So I thought, "I am going to go put it out now."<br />
<br />
I got up and threw on Addie's shoes next to the front door.<br />
(They are just a smidge too big for me...like clown shoes).<br />
<br />
Then I proceeded to carefully drag our giant trashcan to the curb.<br />
Our next door neighbor is the sweetest older lady<br />
and the rumble of the trash can on our cobbled path is a terrifying noise to wake up to.<br />
<br />
So when I saw that we had very little recycling I thought,<br />
"I will just pick up this ginormous can and carry it."<br />
<br />
In hindsight, this is the moment that was screaming, "SUE, GO GET BACK IN BED!"<br />
<br />
I made it about 5 steps down our path, misjudged my footing,<br />
(half of my foot was on the path and half was in the planting area filled with lavender),<br />
and rolled my ankle.<br />
<br />
Badly.<br />
<br />
One second I was tiptoeing to the street holding a huge can in my arms...<br />
the next I was laying in our wood chips gazing up at the stars.<br />
<br />
As my Grandma Blakeley would say, "Mercy Days!"<br />
<br />
I just laid there and thought, "This was a bad idea."<br />
<br />
a. Because of 4 a.m.<br />
b. Because walks in foggy moonlight never end well<br />
b. Because of carrying a garbage can the size of Rhode Island<br />
c. Because of clown shoes<br />
d. Because no one was going to get cholera if I didn't take the trash out<br />
e. Because it is super uncomfortable to lay in wood chips...so pokey<br />
f. Because Addie told me that our cat uses this area as his private potty<br />
<br />
It was so very clear as I lay there in the lavender with a throbbing ankle,<br />
trash can flung to the curb,<br />
that maybe my pre-dawn decision making skills are not the best.<br />
<br />
I also had the split second thought that if we had a surveillance camera, I would really like to have seen what that all looked like going down. Because I have never hit the ground that fast before.<br />
<br />
So I hobbled back into the house, iced my ankle and then crawled back into bed until 5:30.<br />
I made it through the school day with ibuprofen and an ace bandage left over from Will's last injury.<br />
When I finally made it to the doctor later that afternoon,<br />
she listened to my story with very highly raised eyebrows.<br />
<br />
"What time in the morning did this happen?"<br />
"4:00 a.m."<br />
"Because you were...."<br />
"Taking out the trash..."<br />
"Hmmmm." (I think that sound meant, "I feel bad for you...for lots of reasons.")<br />
<br />
So.<br />
Now I have crutches.<br />
This is the best.<br />
Because you know<a href="http://tiredsupergirl.blogspot.com/2016/09/im-bringing-sexy-back.html" target="_blank"> how awesome I am with crutches</a>.<br />
And an ankle brace.<br />
She said sprains are tricky and can take 6-8 weeks to heal.<br />
Mercy Days.<br />
<br />
So this is my 4:00 a.m. advice to you.<br />
STAY IN BED, PEOPLE.<br />
1 out of 4 doctors does not want to hear about how you pitched headlong into your herb garden.<br />
(The other 3 enjoy a good laugh.)<br />
The truth is...you need to rest.<br />
Your body parts need to be kept safe and whole.<br />
And crutches are Satan's unwieldy tools of discouragement and upper body torture.<br />
I believe this is a sound word from the Holy Spirit.<br />
May Jesus keep you and your ankles safe in the coming weeks!<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Susanna-Foth-Aughtmon/e/B001JSBMR2/ref=sr_tc_2_0?qid=1535825025&sr=1-2-ent" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="315" data-original-width="851" height="147" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgM_N8U-oRD1zkymyJn0uLv5fbvImVxogQ2C6rtAegw2cc1q5sDeBTogOEwP-4CQrJlWQUrcNEdH5yLYGfLqhlf-l5BY4fdObqOHXLjYggp3nv8_M0QWRLD5n6qzm0bbxP6wyf73M3jpU4/s400/susanna+foth+aughtmon+is+a+writer%252C+speaker+and+dark+chocolate+lover..jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<br />susannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10793027318859627527noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3736122013539663895.post-27015751548480524182018-08-02T08:46:00.003-07:002018-08-02T08:46:51.929-07:00sisters, swimsuits & synchronized joy<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7MPgYpL5TBopB1MAJ6O4M6n6PzO1I-Jd4_2HrUJseKLRmvlP30rij6oQHYtyqOixQkyz71RyokPWNX-GYzi3sbmOri-9PxCFdPN547qNcdasWF2IZmNQE-KkAvxyZb42-JHFJmAQ6aZk5/s1600/wayward+swimsuits+%2526.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="800" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7MPgYpL5TBopB1MAJ6O4M6n6PzO1I-Jd4_2HrUJseKLRmvlP30rij6oQHYtyqOixQkyz71RyokPWNX-GYzi3sbmOri-9PxCFdPN547qNcdasWF2IZmNQE-KkAvxyZb42-JHFJmAQ6aZk5/s400/wayward+swimsuits+%2526.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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I was talking to my friend, <a href="http://www.songbirdandanerd.com/" target="_blank">Lindsey</a>, the other day.<br />
I love her so much. She is one of those people I could spend hours pondering life with.<br />
And laughing with.<br />
We both have awkward underpants stories that have haunted us throughout our lives.<br />
But her stories are better. I can't breathe right when she re-tells them.<br />
Her <a href="http://www.songbirdandanerd.com/blog/2015/6/9/naked-among-friends" target="_blank">lost swimsuit-bottoms-jetskiing-in-a-lake-after-a-speaking-engagement-with-people- </a><br />
<a href="http://www.songbirdandanerd.com/blog/2015/6/9/naked-among-friends" target="_blank">she-just-met-that-day?</a> One of my favorite stories of all time.<br />
<br />
Joy.<br />
<br />
I so love to laugh.<br />
I think we are made for it.<br />
Our faces look so much better when we are smiling.<br />
All the wrinkles go the right way.<br />
<br />
Lindsey and I talked about hard things, too.<br />
Like who we wanted to be when we grew up.<br />
Things keep switching up on both of us. Life is crazy life that.<br />
But I told her that I knew one thing, no matter what career path I am on....<br />
If I can make some people laugh while I am figuring this life thing out...<br />
If I can usher in some joy...<br />
If I make some people hold their sides when I tell a story...<br />
I want to do that.<br />
<br />
Because joy lets us breathe.<br />
<br />
I had a moment of pure unadulterated joy on our family vacation this summer in Colorado.<br />
Laughing so hard I couldn't catch my breath.<br />
Which should have been scary because I was in a pool.<br />
<br />
Except that I wasn't swimming...I was in a water aerobics class<br />
with my sister, Jenny, my sister-in-law, Traci, and my cousin, Janna.<br />
<br />
Yep. Water aerobics.<br />
The class was called "Aqua Pump."<br />
That should give you a visual. We were pumping it up...in the water...<br />
with about 20 other women...in our swimsuits...to 90's hip hop.<br />
They had all the jams playing.<br />
<i>It Takes Two to Make a Thing Go Right. </i>Or a whole bunch of AARP members with pool noodles.<br />
You get it.<br />
<br />
We were at the lower end of the age spectrum.<br />
So we were feeling good about ourselves.<br />
<br />
Except that Janna and I were having issues with our swimsuit bottoms<br />
while we were pumping it up.<br />
Who knew that while performing underwater jumping jacks<br />
your swimsuit wants to stay in one place while you jump up and down?<br />
<br />
This would have been no big deal...<br />
expect for the lone guy swimming laps in the lanes behind us.<br />
He had goggles on. We weren't interested in giving a show.<br />
Janna and I had to resort to one handed jumping jacks.<br />
One hand flailing in the air, the other hand was keeping our pants up.<br />
<br />
We moved on from jumping jacks to the "taco/tostada" move.<br />
This required us to bend in half like at taco...then flatten out like a tostada.<br />
Keeping your head above water.<br />
Using your core.<br />
Let's be honest. I don't actually have a core.<br />
I was very little taco...mostly tostada.<br />
<br />
The few times I got the move right propelled me across the pool towards another aqua pumper<br />
who was facing me.<br />
She was coming for me, too.<br />
Our feet were headed towards each other.<br />
I yelled out, "I don't want to touch feet with you."<br />
Something I have never said to a stranger before.<br />
We altered our course.<br />
Strangers shouldn't touch toes in the water.<br />
<br />
Or should they?<br />
Our instructor thought that we should at least hold hands.<br />
Yep.<br />
The whole class joined hands. In two cocentric circles.<br />
One inside the other.<br />
<br />
And we proceeded to put Esther Williams to shame.<br />
Or shame her...I don't know...one or the other.<br />
One circle jogged to the right, hands held under water.<br />
One circle jogged to the left, clasped hands held high above our heads.<br />
The instructor would yell, "Switch," and we would change directions and arm positions.<br />
<br />
Traci was all business - she hit every switch with precision.<br />
My sister, Jenny, was laughing so hard she could hardly make the switches.<br />
I was waiting for some synchronized swimming instructions - it felt like that was the next step.<br />
<br />
We were so pumped up after our aqua pump class<br />
we talked other family members into joining us for a different class, later in the week.<br />
<br />
Aqua Plunge in the lazy river.<br />
A full hour of under water laps with resistance training.<br />
With 9 of us.<br />
My two sisters.<br />
My sister-in-law.<br />
My teenage niece.<br />
My two married nieces.<br />
And their husbands.<br />
<br />
Seeing David and Zach taco/tostada?<br />
That was a pleasure.<br />
Aqua Plunge was no joke.<br />
There were floaty weights involved and deep lunges as we struggled against the current.<br />
David was bypassed by an elderly plunger who taunted him saying,<br />
"And you thought this would be easy!"<br />
Cousins lined the side of pool nearest the lazy river and cheered us on.<br />
We gave them high fives and hollers as we would come around the corner<br />
to complete our laps.<br />
We were a bit raucous. There were high spirits.<br />
<br />
Joy.<br />
<br />
I would do it all again in a second.<br />
I am trying to talk a couple of my girlfriends into<br />
helping me find an aqua class that we can take here at home.<br />
Not because I feel great in a swimsuit.<br />
I just really, really like laughing.<br />
<br />
Get yourself down to the Y and do a few taco/tostadas with a friend.<br />
You'll see what I mean.<br />
<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Susanna-Foth-Aughtmon/e/B001JSBMR2/ref=dbs_p_pbk_rwt_abau" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="315" data-original-width="851" height="147" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgM_N8U-oRD1zkymyJn0uLv5fbvImVxogQ2C6rtAegw2cc1q5sDeBTogOEwP-4CQrJlWQUrcNEdH5yLYGfLqhlf-l5BY4fdObqOHXLjYggp3nv8_M0QWRLD5n6qzm0bbxP6wyf73M3jpU4/s400/susanna+foth+aughtmon+is+a+writer%252C+speaker+and+dark+chocolate+lover..jpg" width="400" /></a><span id="goog_1394140090"></span><a href="https://www.blogger.com/"></a><span id="goog_1394140091"></span><br />
<br />susannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10793027318859627527noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3736122013539663895.post-72966472569491432022018-07-18T10:26:00.000-07:002018-07-18T10:46:35.038-07:00love, fear and the big adventure<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhckPCiljZ-WpTrbnFGsSZXWaVomqLtS9NlpHjtG6kbVrsEMZglyt51SZ3Hi9wqK2uCZfsFFlRJmNfxjGVlICeG78CXn2cwGXsm4QJMWqhgM470qEyChS_C9aNV-bhu-E255Vw1ibMuSQey/s1600/The+Big+Adventure.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="800" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhckPCiljZ-WpTrbnFGsSZXWaVomqLtS9NlpHjtG6kbVrsEMZglyt51SZ3Hi9wqK2uCZfsFFlRJmNfxjGVlICeG78CXn2cwGXsm4QJMWqhgM470qEyChS_C9aNV-bhu-E255Vw1ibMuSQey/s400/The+Big+Adventure.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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When I was a little girl, life felt wide open. I loved it.<br />
It was a big adventure.<br />
I felt big enough to take it on.<br />
And I wanted in...on all of it.<br />
I mean all of it.<br />
<br />
I was an explorer.<br />
A bug catcher.<br />
A wanderer.<br />
An escape artist.<br />
I frequently got lost in stores (and panicked when I couldn't find my mom.)<br />
I was a risk taker.<br />
A rule breaker.<br />
(I was also, on occasion, a bully, a petty thief and a liar, but we'll address those issues later.)<br />
<br />
I was a wonder-er.<br />
A talker.<br />
A philosopher.<br />
A poet.<br />
A short story writer.<br />
An illustrator.<br />
A scholar.<br />
I asked a lot of "why" and "how" questions.<br />
It rarely bothered me if I didn't get answers.<br />
<br />
I lived life to the full.<br />
I deplored naps.<br />
I was an adventurer.<br />
A chaser of lightening bugs.<br />
A runner who took on all the boys in PE.<br />
And I planned a surprise wedding for the cutest one.<br />
(My plan was to say, "Surprise! We are getting married!" on the day of. I had guts.)<br />
<br />
I was a dreamer.<br />
<br />
And then fear killed my soul.<br />
And by fear, I mean junior high.<br />
High school wasn't much better.<br />
<br />
The adventure got scary.<br />
Decisions were weighty.<br />
Goals were unreachable.<br />
Some of the people I met? Super mean.<br />
<br />
Those fear-riddled years re-shaped my understanding of myself.<br />
I took less risks.<br />
I followed the rules.<br />
I stopped catching bugs...because...EW.<br />
I turned inward with my dreams.<br />
I stopped planning surprise weddings. (Scott appreciates this.)<br />
I put limits on my hopes.<br />
I played it safe.<br />
I kept quiet.<br />
I let what others thought of me...tell me who I was.<br />
<br />
Life closed in on me.<br />
I grew up.<br />
<br />
And I got small.<br />
<br />
Smaller hopes.<br />
Smaller dreams.<br />
Smaller me.<br />
<br />
I had cracked the door open to fear and doubt.<br />
And I got scared.<br />
<br />
Fear.<br />
Such a small word. Such an enormous impact.<br />
<br />
Fear balls us up in the corner.<br />
It cramps our style.<br />
It cripples our hearts.<br />
It gets us alone with our thoughts and leaves us there.<br />
<br />
This is what I have found in my dealings with fear....<br />
<b>Fear will take up any and all space that you give it in your life.</b><br />
It will fill up the fissures of your heart.<br />
It will occupy the nooks and crannies of your thoughts.<br />
It will overflow every area of your body, soul and spirit...if you let it.<br />
<br />
I know this because I have lived it.<br />
It is not great.<br />
<br />
But here is what I have also found....so will love.<br />
<br />
<b>So will Jesus.</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
When you crack open the door to Jesus and His love?<br />
It is a different story.<br />
<br />
Because He....is fear-less.<br />
<br />
He is the Joy Whisperer. The Life Bringer. The Mercy Giver. The Heart Healer.<br />
<br />
Jesus is the One who can throw open the door to my life and...yours...and fill us with light.<br />
It is His presence alone...His love...that shatters fear.<br />
<br />
Love.<br />
Such a small word. Such an enormous impact.<br />
<br />
The more we throw ourselves into Him and His love...we have fear on the run.<br />
The more He occupies the fissures in our hearts and nooks and crannies of our thoughts....<br />
the more life seems wide open.<br />
I think this is mostly because....we are not alone.<br />
<br />
His light and love are constantly breaking off chunks of our fear and chucking them into eternity.<br />
He is constantly shooting stars of hope and beams of endless grace into our darkness.<br />
The darkness can't stand Him. He is the Bright and Morning Star.<br />
<br />
His words calm the chatter of anxiety and regret.<br />
His power emboldens the faint of heart and gives strength to the weary.<br />
His voice thunders across the universe, shouting down the years at us,<br />
<br />
<b>"Don't be afraid! Do you hear me? I AM RIGHT HERE!"</b><br />
<br />
Jesus is the Savior Who flings open cell doors and sets the captives free.<br />
Every. Single. Captive.<br />
<br />
He is the Debt Payer Who pays for our biggest mistakes<br />
and the Redeemer Who turns our worst downfalls into our best victories.<br />
He is the Breath of Heaven Who gives us wings to soar and songs to sing.<br />
<br />
He restores our crushed hopes and He heals our deepest wounds.<br />
<br />
He backhands fear and conquers death.<br />
<br />
He is peace and gentleness<br />
and justice and hope and mercy<br />
and grace and goodness and forgiveness...<br />
all wrapped into One.<br />
<br />
He is The Way. The Truth. The Life.<br />
The Big Adventure.<br />
And I want in...on all of it.<br />
Don't you?susannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10793027318859627527noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3736122013539663895.post-421854184348729772018-06-19T09:37:00.002-07:002018-06-19T09:37:58.690-07:00PTSSD...otherwise known as post-teaching-summer-sofa-disorder<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Last fall, when I decided to teach, I thought, "It is going to be great to have summer off!"<br />
Then I taught. For a whole school year.<br />
And now I am realizing,<br />
<br />
Even when you are not teaching....because summer is here....<br />
YOU ARE STILL THINKING ABOUT TEACHING.<br />
<b>What in the world?</b><br />
<br />
I am pretty sure this year has actually re-wired my brain.<br />
<br />
All of my thought processes are still being filtered through a teacher-y lens.<br />
BING- my eyes are flying open at 6 am of their own accord.<br />
I have been waking up a little scared and breathless, <br />
wondering if I forgot to grade something and nervous that I am actually missing class.<br />
<br />
As I lay in bed, with the sun barely peaking through the clouds, I have to talk myself down and say,<br />
<b>"Sue...it's summer. Relax. RELAX!!!!!" </b><br />
(when you yell at yourself in your brain...it is the opposite of relaxing.)<br />
<br />
Even though I want to read great fiction -<br />
I can't stop thinking about the new grammar textbooks that I will have next year.<br />
And the motivational self-help book I ordered.<br />
And the summer reading that next year's class will be reading.<br />
And what kind of theme should I go with for Lit next year?<br />
The real question is....should I start lesson planning now?<br />
<br />
Should I start pre-labeling files and sorting vocab worksheets<br />
and reviewing classroom management principles<br />
and reading up on Shakespeare's young adult life in preparation for next spring<br />
when I take the class through <i>Midsummer Night's Dream</i>?<br />
Should I? SHOULD I?<br />
<br />
Mercy days.<br />
That is what my Grandma Blakeley used to say when things got wild.<br />
<br />
I do need some days full of mercy and calming ointments and maybe a spa right about now.<br />
<br />
Because a strange juxtaposition has taken place.<br />
While my brain may be on teacher auto-pilot,<br />
hashing out the inner-workings of next year,<br />
my legs have stopped working.<br />
<br />
They have gone on strike.<br />
<br />
<b>All I can do is lay on the couch </b><br />
<b>and watch British mysteries and drink seltzer with lime.</b><br />
<b>And munch on tiny squares of dark chocolate.</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
My brain is all-in for keeping up the growing and learning and re-org and tight scheduling.<br />
My body? Not so much.<br />
<br />
It has given notice.<br />
Post-teaching-summer-sofa-disorder has taken me down.<br />
My limbs are in full rebellion.<br />
The only thing that they will allow me to do is sink deep into<br />
the sofa cushions and snuggle under a throw blanket.<br />
<br />
I have decided to go with it.<br />
I'll start lesson planning in July.<br />
<br />
For now....if you have need of me...you know where to find me.<br />
I will be on the couch.<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Susanna-Foth-Aughtmon/e/B001JSBMR2" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="315" data-original-width="851" height="147" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW_tuvDsIteJK1nDCykRlEpxuVxL6pcKUid9rfim1fc6BErbAe0gNMrrkMjyuxRjKMJLk7rjeQCX2rPG3yIZ4ULBD0OkPivIiY8u98xfo5PEuGLohSfLM3kfxuDlR3shyxHOm3xwqUmK6o/s400/susanna+foth+aughtmon+is+a+writer%252C+speaker+and+dark+chocolate+lover..png" width="400" /></a></div>
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<br />susannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10793027318859627527noreply@blogger.com3