How Do You Handle Panhandling?

Yesterday when I stopped for gas, I was panhandled.

Does this ever happen to you? I know when you live or work downtown, panhandling is just a part of life. But, I live in a small town. I don't encounter homeless people. I don't get panhandled. This isn't something I'm used to.

I stopped for gas in an area that I don't normally stop. I was by myself. An overweight Native American man came up to me while I was outside my car pumping gas. He smelled of beer and cigarettes and body odor. His hair was long and greasy and unclean. He had very few teeth. I was instantly extremely uncomfortable.

'Scuse me, Ma'am. Could you spare some change?

I said what came to my mind first. My first instinct. No. I'm sorry I don't.

And that was it. He moved on down the sidewalk.

I was bothered by this the rest of the day. Why did I turn him down? Sure, I had spare change. I could have gotten my purse from the front seat and given him money. Why didn't I? I don't know. Maybe I turned him down because I didn't feel safe. I was by myself. I didn't know what he would do if I got out my purse. Would he snatch it and run? Maybe I turned him down because I knew he'd go buy alcohol with it. Maybe.

But I have to be honest with myself. I have to truly say I turned him down because I didn't want to be bothered. He was unpleasant to look at, to smell, to think about, to be bothered by. I turned him down because I wanted him to go away. That's hard to say out loud. It made me feel ashamed and guilty.

We call ourselves Christians. So, what is our obligation to homeless people? People that panhandle on the streets? We're supposed to help the poor. Have you read Matthew 25:35-36? Jesus told his disciples that when they feed the hungry, give drink to the thirsty, provide shelter for the homeless, clothe the naked, nurse the sick, and visit the imprisoned, they are actually doing these things for Him. Think about that! We're serving Jesus when we help the poor.

I remember recently we had a sermon at church about helping the poor and serving the needy. The fact that has stuck in my mind is what our pastor said - The Bible contains more than 300 verses on the poor, and God's deep concern for them. Wow - 300 verses!

Maybe if I had given this guy $5, I would have felt less guilty, but would I have helped him? Probably not. He already smelled of alcohol. Chances are he would have taken that money to buy more beer. So what do we do?

I have a friend that had business cards printed up that list every location nearby where someone can receive food or help. When she gets panhandled, she gives the person one of these cards and prays for them. I once saw someone downtown hand out McDonald's meals and coupons to the homeless. There's a group at our church that volunteers at local soup kitchens and food pantries. These are all great ideas.

So maybe I dismissed the homeless man that approached me at the gas station. And maybe you could argue that I was right in not giving him money. But that homeless man reminded me that I need to reflect Christ's love to those in need. Even unpleasant unclean people. That man is a child of God just like me. He's a sinner in need of redemption just like me. I need to be in prayer for him and people like him.

And this man reminded me that I need to find ways to give of my time and/or money to those services that help the needy.

Because that is what Christ has asked of me.

It will be ok.

Whew!  The last few days have been a blur.  Sooo many things going on.  But, my husband is home from the hospital, and he's healing nicely.

I'm not sure which is harder - being the person having surgery, or being the person sitting in the waiting room waiting for the person having surgery.  Both are tough.

Anyway, sitting in the waiting room all those hours was...interesting.  It was a crowded waiting room, with lots of worried anxious people.  There were probably 20 people there.  Most everyone had a friend or a family member waiting with them, but there was another lady, besides me that was waiting alone.  She sat down right beside me and smiled.  I'm not one to talk to strangers.  I'm usually quiet and reserved, and yes - shy.  But, this lady began talking to me, and it felt so right and comfortable.

Her name was Marion.  She looked to be in her late 60's, but I later found out she was 82.  Mostly, we passed the time with small talk.  I learned that she had lived in the Seattle area all of her life.  She and her husband Walt had just celebrated their 60th wedding anniversary!  Walt was having hernia surgery that day.

After about 45 minutes of chatting with Marion, she looked at me with her kind deep blue eyes, and said, "If you don't mind me saying, young lady, you look like you have the weight of the world resting on your shoulders. There's something besides your husband's surgery you're thinking about, isn't there?"

I smiled, and answered,  "Yes, there is.  I'm sitting here in the quiet of this room without the distractions of work or my kids, and I'm left thinking and praying about this huge mountain I have to climb."

And then Marion, this kind, beautiful, wise woman I had just met, took my hand in hers.  She looked at me with those incredible eyes - I kept thinking they looked like little swimming pools.  They were sooo blue!  She said, "I've learned a lot in my 82 years. Some the easy way, and some the not-so-easy way.  But there's one important thing you need to know.  Whatever this is - facing you right now, you WILL BE OK on the other side.  You WILL be ok.  But, you need to pay attention.  You need to keep your heart open.  You need to learn what you're supposed to learn.  Because one day, God will put a hurting person in your path, like He did for me today.  And you will get to use your wisdom to guide this person.  This mountain?  It's there for you to climb.  The tears and sweat and pain required to climb it will be used later.  Pay attention!"

And she squeezed my hand.  And I cried.  And she smiled and she teared up with me.  We didn't say much after that.  But when Walt came out of surgery, before she got up, she gave me a hug and told me again, "It will be ok." 

I know it will.  I know it will be ok.

Evidently 'Forever and Ever' Means Something Entirely Different to an 8-year old.

Cole: "MOM! LOOK! I found this HUGE earthworm in the pasture."

Me: "Wow. He IS big."

Cole: "I'm gonna keep him. Can I use one of your canning jars? I wanna get some dirt, and lots of grass and some nice leaves...can I keep him?"

Mom: "Of course."

Cole: "GREAT! He looks so brave. I'm gonna name him after Indiana Jones. I'm gonna keep him in his little jar, and he's gonna be my pet forever and EVER!"

Me: "Ok! Sounds good. Let's go get "Indie" a jar..."

Cole: "OK!! I can't wait to tell my friends about my new pet. I'm gonna take good care of him. I'm gonna check on him EVERYDAY. He's gonna be my little worm FOREVER!"

Walking by the chicken coop....

Cole: "Hey Mom! Guess what?!! Chickens like WORMS!!!"

RIP Indie. It was nice knowing ya. Heh.

I never said my job wasn't entertaining...

Just got this call at work:

Him:  "Yeah, is Bridget Smith there?"

Me:  "I'm sorry.  There's no one here by that name."

Him:  "Is she not there today?"

Me:  "No.  I mean there is no one that works here by that name."

Him:  "Well, it's important that I speak to her."

Me:  "...."

Him:  "Do you know where I'd find her this time of day?"

Me: "Ok...I have no idea who Bridget Smith is.  She does not work here.  I've never heard of her."

Him:  "Well, hmmmm.  I really need to speak to her.  Should I try her at her home number?"

Me:  Okay.  This guy just doesn't get it... "Yes.  Definitely.  You should try her at her home number."

Him:  "Will do.  Go ahead."

Me:  "Go ahead?"

Him:  "I'm ready for that number..."

Me:  "Sir?  I don't have her home number.  I DON'T KNOW WHO BRIDGET SMITH IS."

Him:  "Well, do you have ANY clue how to get ahold of her?"

Me:  "NO.  NO, I DO NOT."

Him:  "Ok.  Thanks for your help."

Me:  "Any time."

Excuse me while I VOMIT all over my desk.

Just now a kindergartner came running in from recess into my office. She had tears streaming down her face.

Her: "Waaaaaaah! I have DOG POOP all over my hands."
Me: Oh great. THIS is all I need today...."Ummm, ok. Well you'll need to go to the bathroom and wash up really really well with soap and water."
Her: "Ok. But don't you want to know how I KNOW it's dog poop?"
Me: Oooooh man...not really, no. No I REALLY don't, kid. "Because you can smell it?" Gross, gross, gross...
Her: "NOPE!!!! Guess again!!"
Me: Oh, dear God. I'm soooo not in the mood. For this I went to college? "Ok. PLEEEASE tell me you didn't TASTE it."
Her: "NOPE!"
Me: Oh, whew! RELIEF! Thank you LORD...
Her: "I didn't have to taste it..I just knew after I LICKED it!!!!"

Truck Driver in the Making

I tell ya, working at an elementary school, I never have a shortage of entertainment.

Today, a first grader came to the office. He was being sent to the principal because he was in "big trouble." I need to preface this by saying this kid is very cute. He is very short for his age, is normally very sweet, and talks with a lisp.

Adorable.

So this kid shows up at my office with his eyes brimming with tears. He sat down, and when he did, his feet barely hung over the seat of the chair.

Him: "I'm in big twouble"

Me: "Why? What happened?"

Him: "I said a bad worwd."

Me: "You did? What did you say?" afraid to ask...

Him: "Cwap."

Me: "Crap?"

Him: "Yeah. Cwap."

Me: trying not to laugh "Well, you know what? We don't say that word at school"

Him: "Yeah. I know dat now."

Me: "Are you allowed to say that word at home?"

Him: "No. But my mom says it. A WOT."

Me: "Well, now you know that it's a bad word and we don't say it. So do I have your word that you won't say it ever again?"

Him: "Yeah. I won't."

Me: "Promise?"

Him: "Pwomise."

Me: "Ok, well because I know you'll never say it ever again, I'm going to give you grace. You don't have to see the principal."

Him: looking very relieved "Oh whew! Fanks!"

Me: "You're welcome. Ok, now go back to class. And remember what we talked about."

Him: "Oh I will." scooting off the chair...

Me: "Ok, good. See ya later."

Him: "DAMMIT! My shoe's untied!"

Blink...

Blink. Blink.

Ummm, yeah. My grace ran out. Cute or not, the kid went to the principal's office.

Evidently, My Daughter Listens More Attentively Than I Thought

Let me set the scene for you.

It was last night and I was in the kitchen making dinner. My husband was sitting at the kitchen bar with a cup of coffee. (I specifically remember this, because said coffee will shortly be snorted out of nose.)

Gage was in front of his X-box playing some mindless game.

Cole? I don't remember where he was. He was, no doubt, somewhere doing some Cole-thing, happily oblivious.

But, Lexi was Mad.

TICKED OFF.

I seriously don't even know why. None of us did. She was ANGRY with her big brother. He did something, we don't know what, and he was completely unaware of her rage. Like I said, he was playing his game, in 'the zone' and had no freaking clue that Lexi was standing 2 feet from him yelling. (This, I'm guessing, added to her fury.)

Lexi: "GAGE! I am so MAD AT YOU!" See? Told ya.

Gage: "...."

Lexi: "I can't even BELIEVE you're on this PLANET. You make me SO UNBELIEVABLY ANGRY!"

Gage: "...."

Lexi "You know what? I don't even believe that I'm your SISTER, because you're so MEAN and SELFISH, and I'm so NOT!" Remember, this girl is 9 years old. For later. You need to remember this.

Gage: "...."

Lexi: "You know what else? You are such a .... Such a complete...." Now she's racking her brain trying to figure out the WORST name she can call him without getting in trouble...

Lexi: "You totally remind me of SUCH A..." Still screeching, still thinking...

Gage: "...."

Lexi: "YOU are no better than...You know WHAT??? You are EXACTLY LIKE...
HILLARY CLINTON!"

I kid you NOT, my daughter said this.

Spring Break, Spring Cleaning

The last few days I've been cleaning. Not just ordinary cleaning, mind you. Out and out, get-your-chemicals, open all the windows, don the gloves, beat the rugs with sticks, get out the garbage bags, scrub down the floors, down and dirty CLEANING. And BELIEVE me, my house needed it.

Disclaimer: Normally, my house is very clean. I am a clean freak most of the time. But ever since I started working full time? (Sadly - almost 2 years ago...) My house and it's cleanliness have suffered.

So as I said, I've been POWER cleaning. I've only really gotten the kids' rooms done, but still! It feels darn good. Because the kids' rooms were...gross. Just gross. And in serious need of mucking out.

Because I know you're riveted to this very interesting post about me cleaning, I will now list strange and bizarre items found during my Spring Quest to Scour the Kids' Bedrooms:

• t-shirt, size 2T (distressing mainly because my kids are currently aged 7, 9 and 11)


• various and sundry rocks and pebbles (Cole went through a rock collecting phase a while back)


• 23 yogurt lids (evidently a yogurt lid collecting phase, as well)


• 1 small tooth in a baggie (I'm thinking this is the handiwork of that careless tooth fairy. Dang her.)


• roughly 5,417 legos (the little itty bitty kind - the kind that when the tender sole of your foot steps squarely on said lego in the middle of the night when you're up going to the bathroom? You hop around and hiss various curse words through clenched teeth. Not that I would do that, you understand. I'm just saying some people might.)


• a fuzzy piece of shriveled petrified fruit (banana? apple? test results are still pending)


• $1.57 in pennies nickles and dimes (which was promptly added to the Mommy latte fund. Or possibly the Mommy margarita fund. Actually, these funds are interchangeable on an 'as needed' basis.)


• a folded up note labelled 'Top Secret, Don't Open - That Means You' in which Lexi has laid out a covert plan describing how she plans to hunt, locate, torture, and destroy The Enemy (her brothers) complete with diagrams, maps, and illustrations.


• Valentine candy (or possibly Halloween candy? Circa 2007? 2008? Not sure, but inedible nonetheless)


• 3 tokens of various sizes & unknown origin (Chuck E. Cheese? car wash? arcade?)

Pretty weird stuff, I know.

So 3 garbage bags and 2 Good Will bags later, I am done. I am exhausted but ready for tomorrow's challenge. For then I shall tackle the laundry room. I can't wait! (Yes, THIS is how so very sad my life has become. I'm looking forward to cleaning the laundry room.)

So with that, I'll leave you with this little tidbit from last night's conversation with Cole:

Cole: outta the blue..."Mom? When I grow up, I hope I have lots and lots of chest hair."
Me: "Well, you just might. But why, praytell, do you wish for that?"
Cole: "Well...if I had lots of hair, I could shave words on my chest."
Me: "Yes. There's that."
Cole: "Like, I could shave, 'Yeah!' in my chest hair."
Me: "Yep, you sure could." Afraid to ask, but, you know, I had to...
"But why? WHY in the world would you want to do that, Cole?"
Cole: thinking...thinking... "Wait! I know! If I was at a football game, and my team won, all I would have to do is.. THIS!" At which time he ripped open his shirt to expose the imaginary 'Yeah!' shaved in his imaginary chest hair.

Me: "...."
and to my husband sitting happily & obliviously in the other room..."Honey? In 10 short years when Cole goes off to college? He is sooo not allowed to join a fraternity."

And even though my husband heard nothing of the chest-hair-word-shaving conversation, he wholeheartedly agreed.

A Few Peas Shy of a Casserole

Today, while driving to work this morning, a car pulled out RIGHT in front of me. I mean I was this close to hitting the guy. I had to slam on the brakes. (And no, as much as I wanted to, I did not scream out obscenities. I had the kids in the car with me.) But the kids did watch the whole thing. After we composed ourselves, Cole said, "Wow. That guy wasn't so smart, was he, Mom?"

And of course, I wholeheartedly agreed. And followed with, "Nope. He certainly is not the brightest bulb in the pack. And, he's for sure not the sharpest tool in the shed."

Well then, I had to explain what those sayings meant. (Yeah, I know. I'm not up for the Mother of the Year award anytime soon.)

So then, Gage pipes up and says, "Yeah. He's really not the tastiest nut in the Snickers bar." Ha ha! Good one! Yeah, I know it really doesn't make sense. But it made me laugh.

So THEN, not to be outdone, Lexi says, "Nope. He's not the brightest ketchup stain on the ol' dress shirt." Ha! I'm laughing hard now. 'Cuz that one made a little more sense, and was pretty funny.

Cole listened to all of this, and really didn't know what to say. And even though it had nothing to do with anything, he came up with, "Well, I just think Mom is pretty." Awwww...yeah he sometimes says the sweetest things.

To which Lexi says, "Mom? Cole is such a suck-up. And, you know what else? Cole for SURE is not the first chicken on the rotisserie."

Yeah. I have no idea what that means either. But I nearly snorted my latte outta my nose, I was laughing so hard!

....And then, of course - Cole: "I am TOO the first chicken on the rotisserie."

Shakin' Things Up

I'm pretty sure God has an incredible sense of humor. I really do. I think He sits up in heaven and finds ways to shake things up down here. And, I think that's why He gave me my son Cole.

Don't get me wrong. Cole is a wonderful boy and I love him dearly. Of all my kids? He's the one that has the warmest kindest heart. He's the one that loves to cuddle. He is the one that notices when I get a haircut, or a new pair of shoes, or whatever. And he loves Jesus with all his heart. Cole is really a delight in so many ways.

But my first two kids are Rule Followers. And Pleasers.... like their mother. I am the Queen of all Rule Followers.

My third one though - Cole? Yeah, not so much.

I remember one time when Cole was about three or so...My Dad was coming for a visit. I don't see my Dad much, so I wanted this visit to go perfectly. (Yeah, I know. Not possible. Especially with three little ones.) I prepared everything I could think of so things would go as smoothly as possible. I cleaned and cooked and got everything just so. My Dad wasn't used to being around little kids much, so I went over things with my kids - what manners they needed to practice, the way they could and couldn't act, blah blah blah.

So when my Dad came for his visit, things were going pretty well. Until it was time for all of us to get in the car and go into town. That's when Cole decided to sing a little song. Awwww, sounds lovely, doesn't it? A nice little song from a nice little sweet adorable 3-year-old boy.

Yeah. Except this song was about ... butt-cracks. You heard right. Butt-cracks.

"Butt-craaaaaaaaaaacks, oh butt-craaaaaaaacksssss.
You see them everywherrrrrre, butttttt-craaaaacksssssssss"

Oh, and this was not a short song. Oh no. This song had multiple stanzas. Like 403 stanzas or something. And remember, we live in a rural area. So the ride into town provided many creatures from which Cole pulled inspiration for his new song.

"Oh yeaaaah, butt-cracks on hoooooorrrrrses, butt-cracks on coooowsssss,
Even birdsssss and goatssss have buttttt-craaaaaaaaaaacks. Yesss theeeeeey doooooooo"

Mortifying.

Luckily my dad has a sense of humor, and thought the 45-minute Butt-Crack Song was hilarious.

But, my point is this: As much as I try to teach and guide my kids? They teach and guide me. Or rather, maybe I should say, God teaches and guides me through my kids. I sincerely believe that. I'm a person that likes things just so. I like things in order. My ducks need to be in a row.

God decided to shake things up. And gave me a child that, among many other things, sings about butt cracks at inappropriate times. (Not that I can think of an appropriate time to sing about butt-cracks. But anyway.)

It's not that I don't like things in order anymore. I do, believe me. But, I've learned to roll with things a little easier now. To not sweat the small stuff as much. To take things in stride. And most importantly - to laugh.

Cole reminds me of that every single day.

And then there was the time Cole mooned his entire Kindergarten class. Yeah. But that's a post for another day.

Spring Forward & Spring Pigs

My 9-year-old daughter, Lexi detests daylight savings time. She always has - since she was about 3 and figured out that we were switching the clocks. ("Switching time - willy-nilly when it suits us" ...as she puts it.)

So now that we've "Sprung Forward", here's what I get to listen to now:

Me: "It's 8:00 kids - Bedtime!"
Lexi: "Well, if it wasn't for the brain child that invented daylight savings time, it would be 7:00 and we could stay up another hour."

Yes, she really said 'brain child.' I do NOT know where this girl gets her sarcasm. *cough cough*

Cole: "Mom? What time is it?"
Lexi: answering for me "Well, that depends on if you want to know what the clock says, or what time it REALLY is, before we switched the clocks for no good reason."

Me: "Hurry up and get in the car everyone, or we'll be late for school."
Lexi: "Well, actually, if it weren't for this ridiculous clock switching thing, we would have a whole 'nother hour to get ready for school."

Yes. Sigh.

It is going to be a loooong 7 months until October when we get to turn the clocks back to, as Lexi puts it "back to the appropriate time - the time that God intended."

In other news, the pigs are here! We are now the proud owners of 10 very cute pink little piglets:

Awwww...aren't they the cutest?!

I can almost smell the bacon sizzlin'...

Speaking of which, to celebrate the arrival of said pigs, I decided to make sausage and gravy for dinner. (I know - sorta twisted.) So Cole walks into the kitchen, sees the sausage cooking, and with a horrified look on his face, says:

"Oh noooo! We're already eating one of our pigs?"

Poor kid.

All the money we're supposedly saving raising our own animals? Will be spent on a good therapist for the kids.

We are the Knights Who Say "Ni"

There are two groups of people in this world: Those that love Monty Python movies, and those that... sadly... do not.

The Monty Python People have seen every movie at least once, think they're hilarious, and can (and DO) recite every funny line from those movies. This invariably annoys the Non-Monty Python People. Also? Monty Python People don't understand Non-Monty Python People. And although I can't say for sure, I'm pretty sure it's vice versa.

My oldest son just walked by my office on the way to the bathroom, and said to me in his best British Monty Python voice:

"Shrubberies are my trade. I am a shrubber. My name is Roger the Shrubber. I arrange, design, and sell shrubberies."

Yes, my friends, this is a proud moment for me. My son has become one of us. After seeing The Holy Grail only ONCE, he can recite all of the funny lines. (I know! Amazing!) I am looking forward to this weekend. For then, I shall introduce him to Life of Brian.

"We are now no longer the Knights Who Say 'Ni'. We are now the Knights Who Say 'Ecky-ecky-ecky-ecky-pikang-zoop-boing-goodem-zoo-owli-zhiv'."

IQ Lacking

People that know me know that I work at a school. A Christian school. I'm the secretary. For the most part, I really enjoy interacting with the parents of our students. It's a lot of fun most of the time. Every once in a while, though, I'll have a conversation with a parent and I'm left wondering.... where the heck these people were when God passed out brain cells. This happened today.

*Warning - this paragraph is kind of gross. You've been warned. Ok, so there's a little kindergarten boy who, for the last 3 days, has pooped his pants. And I don't mean a simple pooping of the pants. Without getting too graphic let's just say that it's messy. Really really leaky and watery and messy. You get the idea, I'm sure. So the teacher (of course) sends the kid to me. Neato. Since we aren't supposed to handle this sort of body fluid (thank you, GOD) I call the parents, and make them come and get the kid. So today was day 3 of this. So again, I called the Mom:

Me: "Yeah, your kid pooped his pants again. Please come and get him." (Ok, no, don't worry - I didn't say like that. I was nicer.)
Her: "Oh no, really? Wow. I just can't figure out what's going on with him"
Me: "Well, maybe he's sick. You should take him to the doctor."
Her: "Yes, we did! We took him to the doctor and they ran a bunch of tests. So far, everything is normal."
Me: "Hmmmm...I wonder if he's having a reaction to something he is eating."
Her: "Well, that's what I was thinking. It makes me wonder about the prunes."
Me: "The prunes?"
Her: "Yes. Every morning when he wakes up lately, he just takes handfuls of prunes and eats them. I've been racking my brain and that is the only thing that has changed with his diet. I wonder if that's it."
Me: "......"

Wow. Really? Is it not common knowledge that when one eats copious amounts of prunes, one gets a dreadful case of the trots? I mean seriously. I'm pretty sure I've known this since ummmm...BIRTH. Am I wrong? So lady, NEXT time, give ME the $25 copay and forget the doctor visit. Because yeah, you can stop racking your brain. IT'S THE PRUNES. Duh.

In other news, I'm thinking about doing the Breast Cancer 3-day Walk.

60 miles, though. Sixty. I'm not worried about raising the $2200. I'm worried about being able to walk 20 miles a day for three days. Eeek. Whatya think?