in honor of Thanksgiving

A couple of years ago, when the Kindergartner was a preschooler, he started asking questions about Thanksgiving. No doubt, they were talking about the holiday at preschool, and he wondered how we planned to celebrate.

"Will we get a turkey?" He asked.
"Yes." I told him.
"We will?" He asked again.
"Of course," I said.

We must have had this conversation a dozen times in the weeks leading up to Thanksgiving. Finally, shopping day arrived and I should have suspected something when he jumped in the van without complaint to go to the grocery store. (He hates grocery shopping.)

We got to the meat department, and I said, "Okay, buddy! It's finally time to pick our turkey!"

He looked at the mound of frozen turkeys and exclaimed, "But, Mom! These turkeys are all DEAD!

Needless to say, he didn't eat any turkey that Thanksgiving.

There is a God. And He likes me.

I was in the final moments of copyediting a lengthy document when the unthinkable happened: I somehow lost part of the document. Or the computer ate it. Or whatever.

It was bad.

I checked my files again with no luck: the endnotes were gone. And if the endnotes were gone, I had to wonder what else was gone. I considered cutting and pasting the endnotes from the original document, but quickly scrapped that plan. My reputation as a freelance editor depends on accuracy. Every. Single. Time.

I walked away from my computer and said a prayer while I crawled into bed for a nap. Because I’m spiritual that way.

I had been looking forward to a weekend with my family. A few games of UNO, a family movie, maybe some leaf raking if the weather cooperated. Now all of that was in jeopardy. I needed to keep working in order to make my deadline, and all of my fantasies about free time dissolved like the first sort-of snow of the year.

I printed out my edited document, planning to go through the whole thing again and make the changes on the original, just to be safe. And, what do you know, there were the missing endnotes. Maybe the computer hand’t eaten my document after all.
I consulted with Llama Papa, and with a few clicks, my beautiful copyedited document was there. All of it.

A few more changes, and it would be done. And I would be free for the weekend.

My first response? There is a God. And He likes me.

And yet even if the document hadn’t been recovered, I know the same thing is true. Even if I spent my weekend behind a computer screen, it’s true.

It’s easy to lose sight of God’s goodness when life feels hard, but it’s more true than any feelings we have: there is a God. And He loves us.

awkward silence

I’ve been quiet for so long on this blog, it feels strange to say anything at all.

Hey. It’s me. I’m still alive over here, busily raising three boys and wearing any number of other hats: writer, friend, editor, wife, mother, cook, housekeeper. Should I keep going?

But you’re busy too, no doubt. Everyone I meet seems to have a couple of lives going.

I’ve been thinking about this space and how I want to fill it, or even, if I should fill it. I still don’t have any concrete answers, but I’m breaking the silence anyway. I’m not going to try to find my writing identity with this blog, instead, I’m just going to keep doing what I love to do: tell stories.

Yesterday, my Kindergartener (can you believe my baby is 5?) asked me a deep theological question on the way home from school: “Mom, why did God even make such a thing as barf?”

So, yeah. Marketing be damned. (I don’t even know if I’m allowed to say that word on this here, but there it is. If I disappear, you’ll know why.) You can expect the same high quality material you’ve come to expect from the Llama Momma. Because that’s the way I roll.

giving things up for lint

"Did you ask your friend what he might like for his birthday?" I ask Twin A. as he munches a bagel after soccer practice.

"Yes. I think he'd really like some new football cards." He says.

"Doesn't he have a pretty big collection already?"

"Well, yeah. But he said he had to give them up for lint."

nachos from heaven

Last summer, her world fell apart. One of my dear friends got up one day like every other day, and by the end of it, her life was crumbled up around her.

So we did what we have done for years, my friend and I. We headed to Chilis for nachos and a heart-to-heart. But when we got there, the nachos were gone. Off the menu. Replaced with “new and improved” nachos.

Only they were not improved. Just different.

And when your world us falling down, sometimes you just want the same, old nachos.

Last night, this same friend and I met at Chilis. She’s facing a tough week with so much strength and faith and dignity, it makes me cry. And when we opened the menu, there it was: classic nachos.

I know in the grand scheme of things, it’s no big deal. But it was a big deal. The cheesy concoction between us, we enjoyed sweet, comforting communion. And while I don’t think God is off finding me close parking spots at the Walmart, I do think He sent us those nachos. In all things, God is with us.