Once Upon a Time My Brother and I Supposedly Nearly Killed Ourselves

Occasionally the girl I watch asks me to tell her a story about my life.  For some reason, she is particularly fond of stories about how I was naughty as a child.  Now, this task is mildly difficult because while I wasn’t perfect growing up, I wasn’t a wild child or super mischievous– those tasks fell more on my brother and sister and most of my transgressions are very boring to explain.  However, I do remember one time, years and years ago, when my brother and I pulled off quite a feat of childhood mischievousness and stupidity.   

The key to this story was our television antenna placed along side our house and it went all the way up to the roof.  For the most part, my brother and I didn’t pay much attention to to the antenna.  We had a nice playset to climb on and if that didn’t appease us, there was a small tree that we would clamber over.  Our backyard was fenced, allowing my mother to put us outside relatively unattended with the instruction of, “Stay inside the fence.”  For the most part, that direction was followed and we had hours of carefree play in the backyard.
On day when my brother was six and I was four, we were playing “Darkwing Duck,” an old Disney cartoon that we liked watching.  My sister was taking her afternoon nap, so my mom stayed inside with her.  I don’t remember all the details of what led my brother and me to the television antenna, but we must of grown bored with the playset and the tree.  Consequently, my brother’s solution was to climb ladder-style up the side of the antenna and hop onto the roof of the house.  Being a good younger sister, I followed him.
Once we arrived on the roof, we forgot about our game and curiously began to explore the unknown housetop.  Although we lived in a one level house, to my four-year-old perspective I was on a skyscraper.  I could see the town that sat just beyond the cornfield across the road.  I could see over the giant tree that stood in our front yard.  My brother insisted that he could see Grandpa and Grandma’s house (which wasn’t true since my grandparents lived several hours away, but that’s how far we felt we could see).  Eventually our exploration led me to look over the edge of the house and my stomach lurched as I realized how far away we were from the ground.  But this survival instinct was quickly forgotten when I began watch our shadows dance on the ground as we frolicked about on the roof.       
The rest of the story fades into the fog of childhood memories, but when my mom recalls this incident she tells about being on the phone and hearing an odd pitter-patter on the roof.  When she looked outside the window, she could see our dancing shadows and realizing that HER CHILDREN WERE PLAYING ON THE ROOF!!  Quickly hanging up the phone, she charged outside and got us to climb down from the housetop.  When demanding what exactly we were doing on the roof, my brother only said, “We were playing ‘Darkwing Duck.'”  He realized how much trouble we were in.  I, on the other hand, had a four-year-old’s sense of pride in our accomplishment and kept repeating, “I Goslin!  I Goslin!”  My mother, too furious to even explain how dangerous and stupid it was to play on the roof, banished us to our bedrooms for the afternoon.

My brother and I never climbed on the roof again.  I guess my mother’s caring wrath had some sort of impact on my logic.  However, when I see a house for the first time, I still find myself studying its structure to discover the best way to climb on the roof.


Waiting for Vicarage: T-5 Weeks and 2 Days

If one could capture nervous energy and utilize it as a fuel source, seminarians and their families at this time of year would fuel the nation.  With vicarage and call services almost a month away, the campus is chatter with talk of were we would like to go and what we hope to get from our upcoming experiences.  Likewise, families begin to think more and more about packing and moving, as well as facing the bewildering truth about how much stuff they have.  Most of us haven’t the slightest clue where we are going but the need to do something in preparation for the moves is strong.  Mingled the constant talk of where, when, and what will happen this summer is the hushed voices of fear:  What if there isn’t a place for us?  What if we don’t like it?  Worst of all, what if we fail and all this work is for naught?  Yes, tension, nerves, and excitement are at a high this time of year.

Meanwhile, I am learning how to delicately answer the question of “How do you feel about vicarage?”  I have decided that sarcasm is not the way to go (I don’t know about you, but I just love not only having a limited say about where we will live this coming year but also having no freakin’ way to plan how our life will go beyond July 1!).  Likewise, brutal honesty is probably not the answer either (I don’t like it, uh-uh, not one bit.).  I think I’ve settled on understating the obvious with, “Well, I’m a little nervous about it.”  Yeah, that’s only a bit of an understatement.      

Babiez: Ur Doing It Wrong

When I was engaged to my husband, a lot of people asked me, “So, when are you going to have kids?”  Although I generally answered the question with a polite, “We’re going to wait a bit,” the question always puzzled me.  Why were people so inquisitive about something that shouldn’t happened until we at least got married?  And why did they care?

Well, flash forward a year and a half and that blunt question has surprisingly subsided.  However, the inflow of subtle opinions on whether or not we should have a baby hasn’t ceased.  On one side, we have the nay-waiters.  They talk about how wonderful babies are and how God always provides for their families.  They talk about God’s command to be fruitful and multiply and they post articles about the ever shortening biological clock on their Facebook walls.  Whatever the means of communication, the message is clear:  Waiting on purpose is ungodly, starting a family quickly is God-pleasing.

On the other side of the quite opinion battle are the aye-waiters.  They talk about the importance of stability in family life (and while seminary life can be described many ways, stable is not one of them) and how being an older parent gives you more wisdom.  They point out all of the folks who waited well into their thirties to start having kids and they point out how God has given us the means of perhaps waiting a bit before bringing little bundles of joy into the world.  Again, whatever the means of communication, the message is clear:  Waiting is wise, starting a family quickly is foolish.

Whatever the thoughts, I know that as long as I don’t get pregnant their are people quietly frowning their disapproval.  If I were to announce a pregnancy today, there would be people raising a disgruntled eyebrow.  Granted, I find myself doing this from time to time, so really I’m a bit like the pot calling the kettle black.  At any rate, young couples can’t seem to win–no matter what they do, they aren’t doing it right.

Yet there is comfort in the fact that whatever people might think or say, the only persons involved in the decision for us to start having kids are me, my husband, and God.  And quite frankly, when God has a will, He has a way, so no matter what my husband and I do and do not do, God has the final say.  After all, He says in Jeremiah 29:11, “For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope.”  So, final answer on the baby question is that it will happen when God decides it will happen, no matter what my husband and I are planning.


Jet Lag

My husband and I returned before bright early this morning from our lovely vacation in California.  After managing to fall asleep at 5:15 a.m. and having some bizarre dreams, I hauled myself out of bed at 8:45 this morning in hopes of resetting my body’s clock quickly.  I spent the morning in a shaky, stomach twisting, sleep deprived haze but started feeling better in the afternoon.  Now it is 9:30 p.m., I’m wide awake, and my tummy is telling me it is dinner time.  I think this can easily be diagnosed as jet lag.  At least I can look forward to daylight savings time tomorrow. . . wait a second. . .

Waiting for Vicarage: T-Minus Two Months

Today we flipped the calendar over to March, which means we are two months away from Vicarage Placement Day.  *cue dramatic music*  Now, I have plenty of insights about being only two months out, but I’m very tired tonight and don’t feel like writing them down.  I just wanted to share this meaningful moment in the countdown with you all.