After rereading Beth Moore's When Godly People Do Ungodly Things over the past several weeks I took the dogs for a walk. You'd think a heavy, thought-provoking book about restoration, healing and spiritual warfare wouldn't have anything to do with walking Lily and Lola.
Not so much.
We did an up and down circuit today, a route we've done partially before but never like today. Armed with my camera, three large plastic bags and two leashes we began our journey.
As our entourage moved forward at an erratic and frequently screeching-to-a-halt pace, I begin to see some spiritual applications.
Lily waltzed from side to side, mostly off-path, in the fascinating grass, rarely on the sidewalk. As she bounced, boinged, jumped and double-backed she managed to hobble herself at least a dozen times. Her steps became mincing, tiny shuffles because the leash wrapped around her legs and hindered her from enjoying her frequent attempts to romp along the edge of the path.
Me being the kind person that I am, had to bring the walk to a halt, stop her, and unwrap the leash so that her legs were able to take her where she wanted to go. Did she thank me? Not so much. Did she even recognize that she was free? Her mobility implied that was so, but, within minutes she was hobbled again.
Because I spent so much time huddled over an impatient dog I wondered if there were any times I got myself all twisted up spiritually and became unable to go where I needed and wanted to and I decided that I have indeed done this. Pretty much as often as Lily.
So, thank You, Lord for the times you have and will force me to stop so You can untie, untangle, unleash and settle me on my journey. Sorry about that...I am a creature of very little brain and focus.
Have you visited this blog?
Cake Wrecks
K. So it's maybe a little mean-spirited to mock the labor of others....but...should you be in a mood to laugh at a few questionable designs and outright mess-ups complete with snarky comments. Well, there you go.
The link to a post with cakes in the theme of feet is uh...very appetizing.
I should have blogged yesterday.
But I played with round-headed kids. Then I needed to recover.
I'm practicing being around little kids because some day, it's inevitable, I'll be a grandma. Right? So my niece drops her little ones off for 23 to bond with and on those days I come home early so I can play. Turns out that X-ta suggesting I needed to get busy on procuring grandkids is on the right track. The dogs just don't cut it. Cute. But it's pretty hard to out cute a toddler wearing a crap-eating grin. (Not literally...because that would clearly take all the fun out of the experience for me.)
These are things I may have know about little kids but have forgotten since it's been awhile.
They are very literal. Do you know that sarcasm goes right over their heads?
Laughing can be hysterical. So can eye-gouging and head-butting.
Crying is something that sometimes happens for no reason.
A good burp is a thing to be celebrated. As is a good poop.
Kids have awesome core muscles.
From asleep to awake to asleep can takes just seconds and involve lots of vocalization.
They smell good...when cleaned up.
If you push on the bag of formula to get rid of air bubbles and you don't have the nipple on tight you get wet and the dogs find you fascinating.
Things I have discovered that I never even considered twenty years ago.
Cup holders on car seats. SERIOUSLY.
DVD players in the backseat.
Toys have gone way high tech. Banging on something with a hammer now may give all sorts of feedback and instructions in electronic voice. (Or it may get the adult in the room to jump up and redirect, but that's a different story.)
Pictured...round-headed kids from twenty plus years ago.
Today was beautiful and nearly 70. Vivid blue skies with a hint of crisp tingeing the warm, welcome sunshine. Bright yellow leaves dotted the landscape of brilliant green and the occasional explosion of red. Now this is the October I've come to love in Iowa.
Rewind to a week ago. When the Iowa ground boasted five inches of snow and the Nebraska park I'd camped in was flash-frozen and dreary.
This is my final whining installment patting myself on the back for being a great wife. My arm is getting tired.
So. Saturday morning of the camping trip dawned with the awareness that my bladder had not frozen in my sleep and that I either had to knock on the tent of my neighbor and beg for a ride down to the outhouse, make do in the woods, or walk. I eased out of my very cozy nest and started to hoof it down the road. The temperature, even though there was a tiny dusting of snow on our stuff, wasn't awful. "I can do this. The threat of frostbite is over." I said to meself and a few startled squirrels.
After a smoky breakfast wherein the temperature continued to drop back into the very, very brisk zone, I excused myself and removed a layer up top and slid on my flannel pajama top and then quickly redressed. Yes. It was that cold. We loaded, packed and headed to the vehicles to drive to the other side of the park. Soon we would hit civilization. Soon, if I survived the "easy" hike.
Our ringleader is a big hiker. My husband is one, too, as was the lone ranger along with us. They hike mountains. I began to see that their definition and mine of an easy hike were entirely different.
Ringleader: "Okay. A longer hike takes us around and a little more slowly to the top. There is a dire
ct route that involves a little intense going up front. Which road you wanna take, ladies?"
So, the easier hike would have lasted twice as long and we had time issues and I decided to suck it up and get it over with as soon as possible. "The shorter, uglier one."
"Alrighty then. Follow me."
Now. I need to warn you that I will begin to whine a lot here. If that annoys you just finish this post right now. It only goes down hill.
It's true. What goes up, must come down. And boy, did I go up and down on my hike. See the beautiful, vast, impressive view. See how far away the landscape seems? It seems far, far away because it is. I climbed away from that up-close-and-personal landscape so I might see it from a different perspective.
I am thrilled that I've spent a year working out and getting my muscles into something closer to in shape. Had I not spent time doing Pilates and walking and wiing, I would have been in big trouble. Seriously. At more than one point, when I grabbed a little sapling to avoid falling down the hill and losing the ground I'd gained, I looked at my husband and said. "You do this type of climbing for six hours a day when you back pack?" He'd nod and say something like. "You're doing great, Honey, keep up the good work, Little Trooper." Then I'd whimper and ask. "Why?" He'd smile and nod and remind me to take little steps and it wouldn't hurt quite so bad yada, yada, yada.
I didn't puke. I didn't fall off the hill and plunge to my death. I didn't wet my pants or cry like a little baby. A third of a mile with 90% straight up and a third of the mile attempting to undo the climb left me panting a few times, whiny, and very windblown. But I survived to tell about it. And I don't plan to do it again real soon, but....
