Jello.

Leave a comment
The other night, we were all sitting on our couch, having some quality cuddle fam time.  My 7 year old Soleil says, “Mommy, your tummy feels good, it feels like jello.”  Sweet, sweet child.  As much as I wanted to defend my mid-section-squishy-ness, by blaming it on the holidays… I ate too much… we just finished dinner… I’m about to start my period… bloated, ya know?  Instead, I just started cracking up!

Promptly followed by 200 crunches.

Seriously, I kept laughing about what she said all night long… and even into the next day.  But what if someone else had said that?  If P.A. would have made that comment, I would have decked him. Whoever coined the phrase, “sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me” was… well, an idiot.  Words Hurt. They can hurt bad and deeply wound a persons’ soul.

As a Real-Life Pastors Wife, I am sometimes plagued by people’s words.  What do they think of me?  What did they say about me?  What did they say about P.A.?  What did they just say to P.A.’s face?  What did I hear from someone else that they just said about us?

She said, he said, I said, she said, they said, we said, I said, she said.

Ahh!!! Words can be ridiculous!  Because people use them and people are ridiculous!

I have been hurt by word wounds.  I’m sure I’ve hurt others with wounding words.  Sometimes, we don’t even realize our words are wounding – because we are ridiculous.  Words can be a huge distraction.  It can be difficult to heal from word wounds.

Just like jello.  My mid-section will never be the same after 3 wee Bab’s.  I can accept this.  I run an average of 3 miles a day, six days a week, 18 miles per week.  I take Sunday’s off – no condemnation – it’s my Sabbath, people!  I can run, run, run – but when it comes to the discipline of a steady regime of daily crunches, I’m over it.  I just. don’t. care. anymore.

I can walk around with my jello and be just fine. But if I am carrying a word wound – I’m. not. fine.

But there is hope. In Jesus.  I’ve tried other people, places and things to heal my wounds – only Jesus can.  James chapter 3 is a great section in the Bible about taming the tongue.  I’ve read it.  Ouch. But it’s not about perfection.  We will always have something to be healed from.  Or bring forgiveness to.

With Jesus, there is hope to heal from word wounds, watch my own words… and my jello.

Me + my jello & P. A. after the 10k Dechutes Dash – Bend, OR  Noted. By Les Babs

New Year’s Failures

Leave a comment
On New Year’s Eve, we asked our 3 wee Bab’s, “What are your New Year’s Resolutions?”  After several “What’s, Why’s and Who cares???”, they gave us some answers for the taking.

Soleil: “I want to learn how to be a Teacher.”
Parents: “You are already a teacher. You teach your brother and sister lots of things.”
Soleil: “No, I want to learn how to be a real Teacher – a School Teacher.”  She is so literal.  She’s so black and white.  There’s no fooling her.

Selah: “Two”
Parents: We thought, this is an appropriate answer – she just turned two years old and we’ve been saying, “You’re two! You’re two!” repeatedly the last few weeks.
Again, another literal answer from our second daughter. TWO. She will succeed at being TWO for her 2012 New Year’s Resolution.

But what about all of those New Year’s Resolutions we hope for ourselves, which are less attainable?
The resolutions which somewhere, someone’s statistics try to prove ‘That won’t last thru January’ – the ones which will most likely fail.  These are the resolutions which require more work. more prayer. more surrender. more hope.

Is failure our fate?

Should we just give it up and quit trying all together?

Our sweet son, Salem gave us his hopeful answers.
Salem: “I want to learn how to read, so I can read the Bible” – {insert parental gushing here} – and btw, No, we did not feed him that answer.  Yes, Salem can learn to read in the year 2012.  He will eventually be reading his Bible.  Literally.

His second resolution…”And I want to learn how to exercise, so I can do the treadmill!”
You see, I am not sure this is every little 5-year-old boys dream for 2012; but Salem spent a lot of time downstairs with me, playing with trains or Lego’s, as I logged 938 miles on the treadmill in 2011.  He probably figured, mom does this treadmill thing and makes it look so cool, so I want to learn how. Amidst all of his enthusiasm, Adam & I looked at each other and smiled.  He caught our glance and said…”but I’m to small to do the treadmill”.  Still, he can try… He can still hope.
I don’t think he’s going to give up his dream of using the treadmill so easily.

Adam & I have many New Year’s resolutions for 2012 ~ travel, save money to travel more, walk more closely with God, grow in our marriage and family,  fully live in and enjoy the present moment ~ even the difficult ones.
So, why?  Why do we give up our resolutions, hopes, goals, dreams for the New Year so easily?  Why do statistics somewhere that someone made up, exist to say “that won’t last thru January”?
I think we lose hope so easily.  We don’t want to be hurt or disappointed in life, so we give up hoping and dreaming all together.
2012 New Year’s Resolutions become 2012 New Year’s Failures. And we accept it.
But we don’t have to ~ we can choose to live out our resolutions. We can still hope, be disappointed, dream again, get hurt and hope again. Don’t lose hope.
Let’s prove ’em wrong… why not?  Let’s change the New Year’s failure stats. Let’s all start by using the treadmill, and at least try and make it thru to February.

Noted. By Les Babs

I {Heart} Sleep

Leave a comment
I can fall asleep anywhere, in nearly any position, and under almost any condition.
I can drink espresso in the evening, and fall asleep with in minutes of the last gulp.
I can fall asleep in the middle of a conversation.
I can fall asleep while reading out loud to my children.
I have fallen asleep in school.
I have fallen asleep on the job.
Against a wall. At my desk. In the car. On a subway.
Almost Anywhere.
At times, I would watch our cat sleep and long for that ability to curl up at anytime, anywhere and nap.
You get the picture.
I need a lot of sleep, or I’m cranky.
It has been nearly 8 years since I’ve “slept in”. I am a mom.
I have responsibilities. I can’t sleep whenever I want to.
But I used to.
When I was in college, I was employed at the University in the HR department doing grunt work – filing, stuffing envelopes, data entry, etc…
This was not a glamorous job, but it paid the bills.
I would faithfully do my job, but still had idle time to fill.
I worked in a small dark room, with no windows, one table, one chair, minimal supplies and a phone.
So, I wrote letters to my best friend (then fiancé) Adam, and slept.
Yep, a few times I curled up under the table and slept.
Occasionally, my supervisor would come in to the room to hand me more tasks, check on my progress, or my finished work.
Though I only napped a few times while working,
Adam asked me if I ever worried about my supervisor walking in on me sleeping?
For some reason I never did.
But then again, it’s possible she saw me sleeping and never said anything.
I probably looked too peaceful to wake.
I inherited this gift of “falling asleep anywhere, anytime, anyplace” from my parents & have passed it onto my daughter, Soleil.
I also inherited a good work ethic from my parents.
Now that I am a stay-at-home mom, I can fall asleep on the job.  I can take naps.
Sometimes we all have a chance to nap – even Adam.
Even though I nap, I am still a hard working mom.  Naps do not affect my work ethic.  If I am up late procrastinating, or woken up in the night by one of the wee Bab’s, I hope the next day for a nap.
I {heart} napping.

Noted. By Les Babs

THE WRONG BROAD

Leave a comment
“Hi, my name is Adam, and I am Directionally Challenged”… If they had 12 step group for “stubborn people who don’t ask for directions, Ever!”, I would be the first to join. So there you have it, I am a dude,and I took the first step, I have finally admitted it-” I am directionally challenged”. I hope all the women out there reading this are happy now :) . And it’s not like I get lost for the fun of it either, like some sick people do, “we just love to get lost, it’s an adventure “, save those kind of sentiments for a chick flick.  Adventure my ass , getting lost sucks. And getting lost happens to me, a lot.  I will get on my bike, in my car, my kayak, or my own 2 feet and somehow along the way, I think I’m going one direction, and end up somewhere else, and even worse, it’s usually  somewhere  I have been before- somewhere I have been before many times. like today for example… I was driving my car to meet my other dude friend, “Will”, for a lunch meeting at a place I have probably been too before  at least a 1/2 dozen times and it happened, it happened faster than a bald man getting a buzz cut …. I WAS LOST ( Again). And you want to know why I finally figured out after driving aimlessly, cussing at myself and random streets signs that I realized that I was lost. Well just so you know it wasn’t my dang, “reliable” , GPS/DAYPLANNERMP3PLAYER/BOMBSHELTER/”I STILL CAN”T FIGURE THIS THING OUT AFTER 1 YEAR SMARTPHONE”… no, it wasn’t that at all, It was when I stopped being so dang distracted by my smartphone, “mystery machine”, and actually paid more attention to my driving than checking my email, my texts, my facebook, and those following my blog ( Totally shameless plug here: you can follow my blog by clicking “follow” at the top of this page & then you can make my day  ), that I saw it, and it actually registered I was on the WRONG BROAD st, actually I wasn’t even on broad at all. Because I was so distracted I had been driving on MAIN st the whole friggin’ time ever since exiting the highway. In fact, If I wouldn’t have been so distracted to begin with, I might have noticed where I got lost in the first place. Distraction while driving, anywhere, is never a good thing. You would think that I  learned this at a young age in my driving “career”, ( which by the way got a late start, but that’s another blog for another day ), but directionally challenged people are stubborn….
Shortly after getting my license I decided that I would show off  my coolness ( or lack thereof ) and drive to a friend’s house in my parents white mercury sable ( ya, you know your jealous ). Now my friend was having a party, a big party, a party where everyone knew me, where everyone knew that I had JUST FINALLY gotten my “licence”. So, I drive up, go in, show off my mug shot with a mullet ( oh the 80′s ), hang out for a while, and then decide that it’s time to depart in style. I do this by inviting everyone out to check out my ride, and invite all the “hot” girls ( this was Pre-wifey of course,  and now she IS the ONE & ONLY hot girl in my life ), to get in the sleek old man sable for a joy ride. And of course since i’ve got them there, I might as well impress them with the factory installed cassette player low-budge sound system and blast some beats right? And that’s just what I did- I got in the car, invited a dozen ( probably more like 3, 16 yr. old girls in the car, but who’s counting ? ), blasted some def beats and began to slowly back out of the driveway. … it was great-  girls in the car, music blaring, people waving, me smiling… people waving more, me laughing, me schmoozing the girls more…. people waving more vigorously, guy who owns the Mercedes that was parked in the driveway next to me before pulling out yelling something at me ( I  decide I am glad that he’s as excited at this moment as I am )…. oh wait a sec, he’s not good excited, he’s bad excited, he looks really mad actually… I stop, roll down my window, and I ask, “what’s the deal bro?”… in my life is sublime in my mercury sable tone. … the “deal” is that I almost get my face knocked in because while backing out of his driveway in my “super sable”, I sideswiped his Benz from headlight to bumper- Oh happy day! Actually, from that moment on it was not happy at all, Not happy when I realized that I would forever go down in history as the , “sideswipe sable dude”, in front of all my friends. Not happy that I would have to drive home to my parents and explain/get lectured/explain/get grounded & lectured/try to explain again/Get grounded, get the, “you might have to quit high school and work 40hrs per week at some greasy spoon the rest of your life to pay for what you’ve done  ” talk.  And, most of all,  not happy because the cause of all this was that I WAS DISTRACTED….
Distraction is a horrible, destructive thing. It  happens quick, and it happens slow. Sometimes overtly, sometimes subtly. It pulls us away from  people, from places, from the present moment we are to be fully engaged in. I have been distracted in my life way more than I want to admit. I have been a distracted pupil,a distracted peer,  a distracted partner to my wife, a distracted parent, a distracted pastor. And….
I have been a distracted pursuer.
I have been a distracted pursuer of God.
God has set a course for me, a journey. But I don’t always like the direction He sets me in or the route He has me take. Sometimes it seems hard, sometimes it doesn’t seem to make sense. Sometimes It’s easier if I just take the wheel. Since, I would rather be in control.
And since I think I’m better at  being in control of this journey, I’m sure I can handle a few added inputs along the way, sometimes His voice is just a bit too quiet, or maybe  it’s too loud and I choose to turn it down all the way to a whisper so I can be distracted by my own voice, and the voice of others.
And that’s when I get lost…. what should be broad st. quickly becomes main st. in my life, a Sable sideswipe’s a Mercedes in my relationship with Him. I totally get distracted and lose direction.
So ya, I admit it, I AM DIRECTIONALLY CHALLENGED. I am stubborn and self-focused. I want to be led, but don’t really want Him to lead.
Maybe you can relate…
Maybe you’ve been lost on the journey. Maybe you can’t find your place.
God knows where you are, where you’ve been, and where your going.
God pursues us.
God’s pursuit of us is never Distracted or Detoured or even dependent on our own aimless wanderings.
God is fully present, fully engaged, fully aware of us all the time.
And He direct us and distracts us with Himself alone, by wrecking us with His love- time and time and time again.
So- I am directionally challenged for life,  directionally challenged to be wrecked by Jesus and put back on track.
I am distracted.
So distracted by His love that everything else try’s to matter, but can’t.
Noted. By Adam Babs

*%?@#!* [Explicative / cussing / foul language / bad / harsh words]

Leave a comment
C’mon, you all know you’ve said them, thought them,
or at least listened to them.
When I was younger, I thought cussing was “cool”.
Once I incorporated a few choice words into my vocabulary,
I instantly felt “cooler”.
I was culturally relevant.
One day, during my 7th grade year, I was caught saying sh*t on the playground.
I was given the punishment of standing on the sidelines, while the rest of my classmates finished their recess break.
I was a little embarrassed, but really didn’t think it was a big deal that warranted such an unjust punishment.
I used bad words flippantly, off-handedly, carelessly. Cussing was a part of my every day vocab.
Soon after was a time in my life when I thought something called “Perfection” existed… And could be attained. By me.
Ha!
It was hard – every time I wanted to resist the urge to cuss when I was angry, upset or just feeling “cool”, I would slip up.
An explicative would come flying out of my mouth.
Sometimes loudly
Sometimes softly
Sometimes thru a clenched jaw and gritted teeth.
The words just hung there
In space
Floating in the air
Unable to be erased
But not unforgiveable
I believed a lie – if I followed Jesus, I would / could / should work toward perfection – which included no more cussing.
Then after becoming a mom, I discovered new reasons to cuss.  I stubbed my toe on a toy.
The kids are fighting.
I’m stressed out, I’m tired, I’m hungry.
We are running late…again.
Cussing became more complicated when my oldest daughter Soleil (then 2 years old) repeated the ‘F’ word after hearing me say it.
Every time I told her – “don’t say that word, mommy shouldn’t say it either”, she would repeat.
This went on for about 2 weeks, until I stopped bringing as much attention to it.  Thankfully, the ‘F’ word is not a part of her (now seven year old) vocabulary.
My life went on and I am older, wiser, still not perfect and I still cuss from time to time.
But I don’t just want to cuss for the hell of it.
I now have a new appreciation for foul language.
I use my harsh words in prayer, and wield them toward the devil.  There is nothing nice I can say about him.
There are things in this world that are unjust, inhumane, and evil – they need to be called out –
And cussed out.

Noted. By Les Babs