What a basket case!

Look at this face. So sweet. So innocent. So...yeah, keep reading.

A few years ago, I got caught in a vicious Longaberger basket cycle. It started so innocently: I was invited to a party, so I went.

I know, I know. But I was so young. I didn't know how these things work.

So I went to the party, even though I was pretty sure all the products would be lovely, but too expensive for me.

Sure enough, I was right. So I did the logical thing - I bought the cheapest thing in the catalog and then scheduled a party of my own, to help the host get more basket points.

Of course, I didn't realize that I'd have to order a basket at my own party. Or that one of my guests would schedule a party to help me get more basket points. And then invite me to said party. At which I'd have to order another basket.

And that's the fascinating story of how I ended up with several lovely, warm brown woven storage containers. And while they aren't necessarily being used to beautifully decorate my home, they have been helpful for holding stuff.

One of my pricey baskets, however, is no longer doing its job. My napkin basket (also known as a large recipe basket) was just the perfect size. It held my napkins so nicely and was actually being used in a semi-domestic sort of way in my kitchen.

But Mark had to throw away my napkin basket. Because my cat peed on it.

Does anybody want a cat?

Fine, and how are you?

In the words of Mrs. Julia Sugarbaker, "This is the South. And we’re proud of our crazy people. We don’t hide them up in the attic; we bring them right down to the living room and show them off. No one in the South ever asks if you have crazy people in your family; they just ask which side they’re on."

And how was your weekend?

Saturday Review: Mad Church Disease

At my belated birthday party, my aunt and cousin gave me a gift card to Border's. I decided to use it to buy two books: one I'd been hearing a lot about in the ol' blogosphere, and one my friend, Katie, had e-mailed me to say that I must read.

Katie's recommendation was a book by Mark Batterson called In a Pit with a Lion on a Snowy Day. The other was Anne Jackson's Mad Church Disease. I pretty much started reading Anne's book the minute the package arrived at my house and didn't put it down until I finished. (Okay, to be honest, there may have been a couple breaks for things like sleeping and working. But you get my point.)

Anne Jackson works at Cross Point Church in Nashville. She's an advocate for Compassion International, and her blog is huge. (However, you may remember that I mentioned a couple weeks ago that she's doing an online fast during Lent.)

Mad Church Disease is a book about avoiding or overcoming burnout in ministry. Anne has personally seen a lot of hurt in ministries, and she has experienced a serious, physical and emotional burnout herself.

Rather than just preach at the reader and give platitudes about not getting stressed out and learning to relax, Anne structured her message as a workbook, with probing questions to assess where the reader is and where he or she needs help. In addition, she doesn't just rely on her own experience, though it is vast, especially for someone no older than me. Instead, she concludes each chapter with testimonies and insight from leading pastors and their family members.

In addition, the book itself - the physical ink and paper - is fantastic. The cover is a collage of notes from people all around the world who have shared their stories of burnout. The layout and typography of the book is edgy and appealing, making an already interesting book even more attention-catching and attention-keeping.

Overall, I found this book to be a great resource for anyone in ministry. And by "in ministry," I don't necessarily mean only the guy in the suit behind the pulpit. Anne grew up as a pastor's kid, and she experienced great hurt during those years. So she doesn't restrict her message just to the people receiving the paycheck or the recognition; she addresses the family members who support and love those serving as well.

And I would go so far as to say that volunteers can suffer the kind of burnout Anne discusses, as can professionals in other non-ministry industries. Personally, I've experienced serious burnout working in a non-profit (but not religious) organization, and I've been badly hurt working (on a volunteer basis) for a ministry. So, I believe there are a lot of people out there who could benefit from Anne's message.

Certainly, there were parts of the book that didn't apply to me. And honestly, as I neared the back half of the book, I started skimming a bit, thinking, "Not for me, not for me, not for - oh!"

It was Chapter 11 that got me - the chapter about processing through the pain. She shares the experience that hurt her the most, and then goes on to talk about handling those kinds of hurt with integrity, forgiving people who hurt you (whether they ask for it or not, whether they deserve it or not), and learning to trust again.

That chapter hit home. I can't say that I handled either of my situations with the highest level of integrity, though I tried. And while I've finally managed to forgive the people involved in my working situation, it would not be honest of me to say that I've completely forgiven those in my ministry situation. And learning to trust? Well, that's a whole other blog post in itself!

If you work in ministry, paid or unpaid, or if you hope to be highly involved in ministry in the future, I recommend this book. Perhaps for you it will be preventive medicine. Or maybe, if you've experienced some of the hurt that Anne and I have, it's just what the doctor ordered. Either way, I give this one two thumbs up.

Next time won’t you sing with me?

Photo by jamie3529gq

All right, folks. It has been a little heavy this week, what with my FAIL as a nursery worker and the abandoned puppies. So let’s lighten it up a little. What say we play a game? Angie did this great ABC meme on her blog the other day, and I thought it would be a perfect way to round out this week. So here goes…

A - Age: I’m 30. Mentally and emotionally, though, I often hover somewhere between 14 and 19. And then there’s the contradicting fact that I was possibly born a middle-aged mom. I guess that makes me…30.

B - Bed Size: Queen, finally! Mark and I slept in a full-size bed for 9 years. Add in two overweight cats, and it was close quarters, so we were so very excited to get a new bed last fall!

C - Chore You Hate: Sweeping floors. I know I say that I’m giving up on perfect, but holding a broom brings out my perfectionist tendencies with a vengeance. Why is it so difficult to get every cat hair, dust bunny and Cheerio off my floor?! (Just so you know, my solution to this issue is to NOT SWEEP. Because that makes sense.)

D - Dad's Name: Tom. But his real name is James, like his father before him, my brother, my father-in-law and my brother-in-law. Out of all those men, my brother is the only one who goes by James. The rest were and are Keith, Jim and Brian. Weird, huh?

E - Essential Start Your Day Item: Can I say a chocolate donut? No? Okay, then, a shower. If I don’t take a shower first thing, I will lounge through the whole day until I have accomplished exactly nothing and look like I’ve got something against personal hygiene.

F - Favorite TV Show: This is a hard one! Current favorite is Chuck. Don’t make me say it again – you should be watching this show. All-time favorite is Gilmore Girls. Don’t mock it until you’ve tried it.

G - Gold or Silver: Do you think this refers to jewelry? My wedding rings are gold, but I like silver, too. I don’t know – I’m not much of a jewelry person. (Although I have been trying to accessorize more lately. Sunday was quite an experiment – it involved earrings, a bracelet and a scarf – cuh-razy!)

H - Height: 5’7”, but I used to be 5’8”. I’m not sure what happened…

I - Instruments You Play(ed): I play the piano. Not much lately, but I used to be pretty good.

I also played the bass clarinet in middle school. I wanted to play the saxophone, because that’s cool. But my parents couldn’t afford to buy one, so I had to play a school instrument. And that’s what the school had. Turns out it wasn’t too bad. Because I was the only one (big surprise, right?), I had to sit with the trombone section (boys) and compete against them for chairs. And because the trombone is considerably harder to play than the bass clarinet, I always got to be first chair. Take that, saxophones.

J - Job Title: Public Relations Specialist. Yes, it’s very special.

K - Kid(s): Annalyn, our feisty, stubborn, charming and adorable 17-month-old daughter. (And yes, I’m officially just calling her by her name on this blog. I can’t handle anything more complicated than that!)

L - Living Arrangement: Small, old, falling apart ranch with one bathroom and no basement. I’m not kidding about the falling apart – you can’t find one room in the house that doesn’t have something broken. But these days, I’m just thankful to have a house.

M - Mom's Name: Alice. She’s Allie to Annalyn and all my cousin’s kids.

N - Nicknames: My high school friends called me Mare Bear for a while. Smitty calls me Blondie. And my parents had the nerve to call me Herb as a child (it’s a long story).
O - Overnight Hospital Stays Other Than Birth: No, but that was one heck of a hospital stay!

P - Pet Peeve: Whistling, unless it’s done by my dad, Smitty or Triple. And then I can endure it.

Q - Quotes You Like: I don't know! Help me out! What's your favorite quote?

R - Right or Left-Handed: Right.

S - Siblings: One younger brother and a younger cousin who grew up with us.

T - Time You Wake Up: I set the alarm for 6:30 a.m. I usually get up about 6:50 a.m. Snooze is a wonderful and dangerous thing.

U - Ultimate Dessert: One of those crazy, 3,000-calorie Death by Chocolate cakes you can get at most restaurants. You know, the kind most people say is “too rich” and they “couldn’t possibly eat it all.” Mmmm-hmm.

V - Vegetable You Dislike: Carrots. If I try to eat them raw, without dip, I literally start to gag a little. And I keep chewing and chewing and chewing…and just can’t choke them down. It’s ugly.

W - Ways You Run Late: So many ways! I’m always late! I hate it, but it’s true. Please, no lectures about how it’s disrespectful and rude. I know. Okay?

X - X-rays You've Had: Lots of lung x-rays for bronchitis/flu-type stuff. It’s pretty much a yearly occurrence. Oh, I also had my spine x-rayed when I visited the chiropractor last year.

Y - Yummy Food You Make: I wish I could say some gourmet, homemade meal. But it seems like most people love my brownies. Made from a mix. A store-brand mix. What can I say? They ARE good!

Z - Zoo Animal: Monkeys and bears, I think. Although I loved seeing the giraffes up close last fall in Nashville.

How about you? Do you know your ABCs?

Guest Post: Tam from inProgress

Do you read Tam's blog, inProgress? It's more of a community than just a place for someone to dump her thoughts. Although, her thoughts range from hilarious to perplexing to inspirational to thought-provoking.

Today, Tam and I are blog swapping. She's here to tell us a little about giving up on perfect, and I'm over at her place talking about being a work in progress. Welcome, Tam.

Giving Up on Perfect...

…Not easy to do. Especially when perfection becomes a survival skill.

When I was in elementary school my mother met a man who'd eventually help in giving me 2 younger sisters :) He also helped in forming some of the worst habits of my life. One being...a clean freak!

You see, my mom’s boyfriend was an abuser. He enjoyed all types of abuse. My older brother and I got to experience them all. But the one that had the biggest impact on me was the physical abuse.

If he found me sitting, I would get a beating. Wouldn’t matter if I had just vacuumed and was simply resting. A beating would follow.

So, I learned to stay busy. There was always something to straighten, organize, dust, fluff, pick up, wash, whatever...I would find something to do.

One of the chores I gave myself was keeping the faucets spic-n-span shiny! I quickly learned there was always chrome to keep spiffy. Handwashing, toothbrushing and cooking all caused water spots and grime. And keeping every faucet in the house sparkling became my safety net.

Fast-forward 15 years, I’m married and getting uptight day after day because I couldn’t keep my faucets shiny. I’d walk into the bathroom, notice toothpaste splatter and nearly have an anxiety attack. I’d check them throughout the day like my life depended on it.

I created a habit of keeping myself consistently busy so that I wouldn’t get in trouble for not doing anything. And I had no idea that that’s what I had done. Until one day I realized that I instantly became exhausted as soon as I entered another persons home. I mean, almost comatose. To the point where I wasn’t even watching my own children or engaging in conversation.

You see, as a kiddo, going to another home was a break for me. He wouldn’t hurt me there. I didn’t have to perform. I didn’t have to be perfect. I could just...be. And often times, that meant rest. Rest I so desperately needed.

I conditioned and trained myself to perform in a way that would protect me. But I didn’t require this survival technique anymore. I was safe. Not only with my husband, but with God. I had found my refuge. The mean man had no power over me any longer.

This revelation was lifesaving. Freeing.

Perfection was no longer needed. Not when love stepped in.

Tam is a wife of 1, mom of 2 and friend to many. Laughing at herself is a daily occurence. 'Cause, well, she ain't right. Visit Tam at inProgress and follow her on Twitter.

I’m having a hard time being “faithful with a few things.”

When I was in college, I felt that God called me to ministry. In the years since, I’ve struggled to figure out exactly what that means, what God has planned for me, where I belong, how I can serve.

Recently, my struggle has been more about learning to be content with where I am right now, figuring out how I can serve where I am.

As part of my endeavor to get more involved in ministry in my current life instead of waiting for someday to get here, I’ve started writing to a missionary wife that our church supports. I’ve mentioned before that I sing in the choir. Also, Mark and I have started a small group with four other couples.

These ministries are all things I signed up for, things that I have some interest in, some skill or spiritual gift for doing.

The other ministry Mark and I participate in is not so voluntary and not so suited to our strengths. We serve in the toddler nursery.

Every Sunday morning that we go to church, our daughter is taken care of by several fantastic nursery workers. So it’s only fair that we take our turn caring for other families’ children. And while Mark does not enjoy it at all (although he’s great at vacuuming up the hundreds of Cheerios left on the floor after snacktime and following me around with a box of tissues during cold season), I do. I like holding the kids who cry when their parents leave and showing the new kids all the toys we have to play with. I don’t love changing their diapers, but I like hanging out with other people's kiddos for a couple hours once a month.

But you sure wouldn’t know this based on last Sunday. Or based on the fourth Sunday of February.

Because we forgot to work in the nursery.

Just plain forgot! After I realized what we’d done last month – or not done, as the case might be – I was mortified. I e-mailed our nursery director and apologized all over myself. I expressed my extreme regret and promised not to let it happen ever again. She was gracious and forgiving, and all was forgotten.

So forgotten, in fact, that last weekend, the fourth Sunday in March, I forgot to work in the nursery again.

In my defense, I had out-of-town friends visiting, went to a murder mystery party that went way past my bedtime and sang with choir both services on Sunday. But I knew that. I knew how crazy the weekend would be, and I knew it included nursery. I even told Chelley that when we were making plans for the weekend.

But when it came down to it, I was exhausted. Teresa’s birthday party went late, and when I dragged myself out of bed Sunday morning to get to choir practice, nursery didn’t even cross my mind.

It didn’t cross my mind until much later that night, after choir, after lunch with my friends, after a nap and after Bible study.

But now I can’t stop thinking about it. I can’t stop thinking about how there’s just no way to fix this. No apology will take back the stress that our nursery director felt as she covered for us at the last minute, and no sincere words of regret will change the view she now has of us. And I can’t stop thinking that I should get it together! I should be more organized! I should, I should, I should!

And I can’t help but wonder if maybe I’ll never find myself in a full-time ministry role, because I can’t even be faithful with the small things.

I’m not saying that to get reassurances that everyone makes mistakes. And I realize that the title of my blog implies that I am no longer a perfectionist with sky-high standards for herself. But at least in this instance, I can’t let myself off the hook. I don’t know how. And I don’t know how anyone – or Anyone – else could, either.

World's best lasagne...or at least the best one I've ever made.

Last Christmas, I suggested that we have Italian for Christmas dinner with Mark's family instead of the normal turkey and fixings. You know, the same elaborate meal we had (at three different family gatherings) a month before.

It's not that I have anything against the traditional holiday meal. But for five adults, one picky kid and a toddler, a whole turkey carcass is a bit much.

I'm sorry. Is it wrong to say "carcass"? Believe me, I have nothing against meat. It's the memory of turkey overload getting to me.

But anyway, Italian food is good. Specifically lasagne. Mark loves my lasagne. I've made it many a-time and have it pretty much down pat.

So of course, the logical thing to do would be to experiment with a new recipe.

I'd recently seen a recipe for lasagne on The Pioneer Woman Cooks. Ree called it the best lasagne ever, and more importantly, it looked easy enough to make.

And so, make it I did.

Friends, I hope you don't mind if I tell you: There was raving at that meal. Mark's family loved the fancy lasagne.

And by fancy, I mean it has sausage and sliced mozzarella.

I made it for the second time this weekend, and it didn't seem quite as good. But just now, I had leftovers for dinner and Oh. My. Goodness. It was delicious!

Thank you to the Pioneer Woman for what is, yes, the best lasagne ever.

You can find the recipe at Ree's site, but I did make a few changes. I used no-boil noodles, half as much parsley, mild sausage instead of hot, and instead of sprinkling the grated Parmesan on top, I mixed it with the cottage cheese mixture. Then I topped the lasagne with shredded mozzarella and a little bit of shredded Parmesan.

This post is part of Mouthwatering Monday. Check it out for more great eats.

Looking for love in all the wrong places

UPDATE: My friend Teresa adopted the white puppy, and one of my co-workers is adopting the brown puppy. I'm so relieved that both dogs are going to good homes (and we didn't have to take that dreaded trip to the shelter)!

Someone dumped these sweet babies in my yard on Saturday.

Chelley and Triple were down for the weekend, and of course the first thing we did when they got here was go to Walmart.

(What? Isn't that what you do when your friends from out of town come to visit? Compare Walmarts?)

When we got back home, Triple noticed we had a couple of puppies in our shrubs out front and said, "Did you forget to tell us that you got two dogs?"

Yeah right. As both Triple and Chelley know well, I am not, as they say, a dog person. (They know this well because - long story short - Mark brought one home when they were visiting a couple years ago and pert near ruined his 30th birthday.)

But how could I resist those adorable little baby pups?

I can, don't you worry, but it is hard! I am upset, though. Who dumps two baby puppies when there are these things called shelters that exist solely for the purpose of taking in unwanted animals?!

At first it didn't even dawn on me that they'd been dumped. They had leashes on, so I assumed they'd escaped their home and some loving owner was franically searching for them. But Triple pointed out that they don't have tags, and the likely explanation is that someone just decided they didn't want them.

And apparently, our house looked like as good a place as any to leave them.

Actually, it is a pretty good spot. All of our neighbors already have dogs - we're a real doggy neighborhood. Dogs bark so often around here that I almost don't even hear them anymore.

Almost.

Tomorrow morning, Mark will take the puppies to the shelter. They're super cute, friendly and young enough that I'm sure they'll be adopted into good homes (or maybe even one home - they really love each other, these babies) quickly.

But still, even though I am not a dog person and I do not want a dog and we absolutely canNOT keep these puppies or get a dog of our own anytime soon...it just breaks my heart a little bit. How could someone look into those faces and just push them out of the car? I hope they at least slowed down. Jerks.
What about you? Are you a dog person? What kind of pets do you have?

Why I can’t be trusted with my own blog.

Do you like my pretty new blog face? It comes courtesy of a very patient Jo-Lynne of DCR Designs. I say “patient,” because, well, she worked with me.

I’m sure you can just imagine. After all, what could be more fun than designing a blog for someone who has a teensy little problem with perfectionism and expectations? Oh, I know! Perhaps if said perfectionist with ridiculous expectations also worked briefly in advertising, giving her the hilarious illusion that she has an artistic eye.

I knew that I wanted a better look for my blog and after Blissdom, I knew it was a must. I met Jo-Lynne briefly at the conference and realized I’d admired her own blog’s design before. And since her prices fit within my budget, I decided she was the one.

Yep. Lucky her.

One month and 64 e-mails later, Jo-Lynne has left me with a fresh, clean, cute blog – just as she promised. And she was so very easy to work with, which is more than I can say for myself.

I thought that asking for a redesign after I saw the first header would be my biggest gaffe. Turns out, no. Because just hours after seeing the final, finished product…I deleted my nifty new navigation bar.

Just deleted it.

You know what happened next, right? At first, I didn’t realize what I’d done, but when I did? Oh, when I did, I just sat there. In shock.

Next, I do believe I literally hung (hanged? I don’t know.) my head in shame. No one was around to see it, but please believe me, my head was hanging low. And my stomach? It was definitely feeling the “Oh no, I’m in trouble, what did I do? How do I fix this without anyone finding out?” feeling.

And then I sighed. I e-mailed Jo-Lynne to tell her what I’d done and beg her forgiveness. Thankfully, she is much more together than I, and she sent me the code to restore my nav bar immediately.

So, today, I present to you: My New Blog.

What? You’d already noticed? Oh. Well, okay. Check it out anyway. Let me know what you think.

Anything exciting happen to you this week?

Say My Name, Say My Name...

And...you're welcome for getting that song stuck in your head!

I need some help, please. As you have certainly noticed, I'm no longer going by Photoqueen on this here weblog. I'm plain ol' Mary.

The decision came after much overthinking and overanalyzing, as I'm sure you'll be surprised to hear. But after a while, I just couldn't take it anymore. I wanted people to know my name!

Plus, after meeting several photographers at Blissdom, I realized that I am neither a photo nor a queen. Discuss amongst yourselves.

Oh wait - I mean that I'm not really a photographer. Maybe someday. But not so much today.

Anyway, so that's me. Now I have to figure out what to do about my child. The baby formerly known as Photobaby.

I called her "The Kiddo" in my last post. What did you think about that? Did it feel right to you? Did it seem organic?

Just kidding. I don't need to be organic.

I've seen that a lot of moms who blog (no, I will not cop to being a mommy blogger) have cute nicknames for their kids or call them just by initials. Others just use their kids' real names.

What do you think? Any ideas? Whatcha got?

Powering through the infection and showing some holiday spirit

Thanks to a double ear infection, The Kiddo and I have had some special, quality time together over the past few days. We've laughed, we've cried, we've read the same 10 books over and over and over and . . .

It started last Thursday night, when she woke up around midnight, coughing and crying and sounding generally pathetic. A trip to the pediatrician on Friday afternoon told us that she has her first ear infection.

Yeah, her first. Ever. I know we’re lucky. Mark and I both spent our early years with almost constant ear infections, so we’ve discussed before how weird it is that she hasn’t had a single one.

Guess we should’ve knocked on wood or something.

The doctor – who, by the way, was very nice but I’m pretty sure, younger than me – said her infections (one in each ear, just for good measure) weren’t that bad yet, so we didn’t need to start giving her antibiotics.

Apparently, standard operating procedure is to wait until things are really, really bad before treating them.

No, I get it. Nobody wants to overmedicate kids. And sure, if this were the twentieth time she’d been given antibiotics rather than the first, I might have hesitated to fill that “just in case” prescription.

As it was, I hightailed it to HyVee and got my baby girl her meds.

Thankfully, she started feeling much better yesterday afternoon, just in time to visit her grandparents for an overnight stay.

See that sweet face up there? I've missed her this evening, that's for sure. Who wouldn't?

But I didn't waste my kid-free night. Nosirree, I worked a little late, wandered around Target and even tried on clothes, made a leisurely visit to the grocery store, watched American Idol on full volume and spent the evening blogging to my heart's content.

Yes, friends, that was my exciting night! What's your idea of an evening well spent?

Remember when green was just a color?

Photo by bocavermelha-l.b.

I thought today we could rock it old-school, green style. You know, taking a look at some uses of the word before everyone was "going green." Some quotes for your enjoyment:

• Sometimes our fate resembles a fruit tree in winter. Who would think that those branches would turn green again and blossom, but we hope it, we know it. (Johann Wolfgang von Goethe)
• If I keep a green bough in my heart, then the singing bird will come. (Chinese proverb)
• I do not like green eggs and ham I do not like them sam I am. (Dr. Seuss)
• O! beware, my lord, of jealousy; It is the green-eyed monster which doth mock the meat it feeds on. (William Shakespeare)
• An optimist is a person who sees a green light everywhere, while a pessimist sees only the red stoplight. . . The truly wise person is colorblind. (Albert Schweitzer)
• You could cover the whole earth with asphalt, but sooner or later green grass would break through. (Ilya Ehrenburg)
• Green fingers are the extension of a verdant heart. (Russell Page)
• But I am like a green olive tree in the house of God: I trust in the mercy of God for ever and ever. (Psalms 52:8)
• Life expectancy would grow by leaps and bounds if green vegetables smelled as good as bacon. (Doug Larson)

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

No denying she's a funny girl, that Belle!

This blogging thing is amazing, no? One day, I blogged about being the last person alive to own - and love - a VCR. The next day, I had a message from another blogger, who happens to have an awesome site about organizing, offering to send me all her kids' old videos.

Because, as I may have mentioned, nobody else really uses a VCR anymore.

I said, sure! I thought it'd be great. And then I kind of forgot about it.

Until today, when the mailman delivered a diaper box FULL of videos to my house! I'm talking two dozen Veggie Tales, Blues Clues and Disney movie videos! It's like Christmas!

For the kiddo. Not me. No, surely I wasn't the one so excited I had to find my husband's pocket knife and slice open the packing tape. Right. Now.

Umm, actually, I guess I should be glad that was me. Wouldn't look so good on the parenting resume to have my 17-month-old wielding a pocket knife.

Anyway, I'm quite sure that me singing along to Beauty and the Beast is helping the kiddo's ear infection. Oh yes, a little Belle and Gaston and Beast is just what the doctor ordered.

Thanks, Tanna! (If you need organization tips, check out her site today!)

What's your favorite animated movie?

Daisy Chain Giveaway Winners

Today is a lucky day for Amy, Nichole, Kimberly and Erin. You each won a copy of Mary DeMuth’s new book, Daisy Chain. Send me your address, and I'll drop your copy in the mail! (E-mail to givinguponperfect [at] gmail [dot] com)

And if you didn't win a copy, well, that's because you didn't enter the contest! But you can still get your own copy; it's worth it! This is a good book.

For more information about the book, the author and all the great things she does, visit Mary DeMuth at The Writing Spa and Wanna Be Published.

Daisy Chain: Book Review & Giveaway

Things aren’t always what they seem. At least I know that’s true in my own life.

My family always seems to have some sort of drama going on. Some sort of tragedy or disagreement or issue. But that’s the new normal, right? Putting the fun in dysfunctional, or however that saying goes?

Maybe. But I remember one particularly dark season when I was a senior in high school. My family went through something so traumatic that I didn’t know how to deal. I didn’t know how to work through it. I didn’t know if anything would ever be okay again.

But I couldn’t tell anyone about it. Because there are some things you just don’t talk about. Even if it eats you up inside.

Have you ever felt that way?

Jed Pepper has. He’s the main character in Mary DeMuth’s new novel, Daisy Chain. Here’s a synopsis of the book:

The abrupt disappearance of young Daisy Chance from a small Texas town in 1973 spins three lives out of control-Jed, whose guilt over not protecting his friend Daisy strangles him; Emory Chance, who blames her own choices for her daughter’s demise; and Ouisie Pepper, who is plagued by headaches while pierced by the shattered pieces of a family in crisis.

In this first book in the Defiance, Texas Trilogy, fourteen-year-old Jed Pepper has a sickening secret: He’s convinced it’s his fault his best friend Daisy went missing. Jed’s pain sends him on a quest for answers to mysteries woven through the fabric of his own life and the lives of the families of Defiance, Texas. When he finally confronts the terrible truths he’s been denying all his life, Jed must choose between rebellion and love, anger and freedom.

I’m in the middle of this book right now, and I don’t know if I’ll be able to go to work tomorrow. Not because I’ll still be reading (It’s not that long, and I’m not that slow!), but because there’s no way I’m stopping to do laundry. And I’m pretty sure the black pants I want to wear tomorrow are dirty!

Here’s the giveaway part:
If you’d like a chance to read the book, today is your lucky day. Well, actually – dare I say, ironically – this Friday, the 13th, could be your lucky day. Because three readers will receive a FREE copy of this book. All you have to do is leave a comment by midnight (CST) on Thursday, March 12. I’ll announce the three randomly selected winners on Friday.

If Mary DeMuth’s name sounds familiar, it’s because I wrote about her a couple months ago. You can find her giving great writing advice at The Writing Spa and Wanna Be Published, and you can read more about her in the interview below.

Tell me a little bit about your background and your family.

You can read my testimony on my website (http://www.marydemuth.com/). I came from a difficult upbringing, but Jesus saw fit to find me at fifteen. He has utterly changed my life.

I’ve been married 18 years to my husband Patrick (who’s been told he looks like George Clooney on more than one occasion). Interesting side note: I’ve been told I look like Laura Dern, and we share the EXACT same birthday. Twins separated at birth? Possibly. If you’re reading this and you’re chums with Laura, could you probe a bit?

How did you get involved in writing?

I’ve been writing since college when the bug hit me. I wrote my first short story about a missionary going to Russia (when it was firmly encased behind the iron curtain) and having to do all these clandestine things to share the gospel. I’m embarrassed to write this, but the piece started with these four words: Thump, thump, thump, thump (representing the protagonist’s heartbeat, of course).

I’ve been actively writing since 1992 when my daughter Sophie was born. I created a newsletter that helped moms manage their homes. I bought my first computer from the proceeds. I also designed and edited church newsletters, wrote homeschooling curriculum, and even wrote a script for an ultrasound training video. Soon after, short stories started flying out of me. When we moved from East Texas to Dallas for my husband to go to Dallas Seminary, I decided to get serious. I met my friend Sandra Glahn then, a professor at the seminary and a published writer. She shepherded me through the query-letter-writing process and has been an incredible cheerleader.

In 2002, I wrote my first novel. In 2003, I signed with an agent, then signed two nonfiction books. Since then, I’ve had five books published (those included), Daisy Chain being my sixth book. The first novel I wrote is yet to be published.

Where did you get the idea for Daisy Chain?

I had a friend who shared a difficult story with me. He grew up in a Christian home. His father was in leadership in the Christian community. From the outside, all looked perfect. But behind closed doors, life was very, very hard. I wanted to expose that kind of abuse. That’s why the idea of family secrets plays heavily into all three books of the Defiance, Texas trilogy.

What do you hope to accomplish with Daisy Chain?

I liken this book to an Oprah book, but with hope. Yes, there is darkness and meanness abounding in this world, but God’s light has a way of fully penetrating that darkness. I hope Daisy Chain cradles the reader through its deep, scary journey clear through to the end because redemption will shine brighter in the midst of darkness. That’s my own personal testimony, so it can’t help but leak out on the page.

Don't forget to leave a comment to enter the drawing for your own copy. Or, hey, go out and buy a copy of your own! (Or both...I really love it when you comment!)

Crisis Management: Fighting world hunger one blog at a time.

On my way home from work tonight, I ate a couple of mini candy bars, disappointed that I had forgotten to bring an apple to the office but secretly glad for the excuse to indulge. About an hour later, I put my daughter in her high chair and gave her some chicken, a few carrots and a cup of peaches. I got on to her when she threw some of the food on the floor, but I didn’t worry too long. After all, my cat was right there, ready to help clean up the mess. Then after I put my daughter to bed, I sat down to watch American Idol with a big plate of steaming fajitas.

But when our pastor mentioned last Sunday that our church’s crisis food closet needs donations, my first thought was to go to Aldi’s for the 49-cent canned vegetables.

What?

I realized right away how selfish that thought was. I don’t buy groceries for myself at the discount store, but that’s all I was willing to offer those in need. But I’m telling you that was my gut reaction, my first thought. (Not that Walmart store brand is much different, but I think you can see the principle of the matter here.)

Later that night, our Bible study talked about how sharing resources is one of the ways the early church developed authentic and contagious community. Our book pointed out that they gave of their possessions, sacrificing to provide for every one who had a need – instead of giving just a fraction of what was left over at the end of the month.

Again, I was brought to my knees. Apparently God had a word for me on Sunday.

And I’m listening to that word. I am. And while I can’t presume to think I could speak to your heart like God has used others to speak to mine, if any of this is making you think about giving, about sharing what you have, about sacrificing your abundance so others can fill their most basic needs – well, I want to share with you a way to do just that.

Today is Global Food Crisis Day, a day set aside by Compassion International to raise awareness of the global food crisis and to raise funds to make a difference.

According to Compassion, the food crisis occurring today is “more rapid, urgent and devastating than any other in the history of our planet.” Compounding the existing hunger in our world are various factors causing the cost of food to double in many countries that Compassion serves. And now we have a situation affecting millions that the UN World Food Programme is calling “a silent tsunami.”

But what does that even mean, a silent tsunami? Is this just charity propaganda? See for yourself:

• One person in seven goes to bed hungry every day.
• One-third of the world’s population is undernourished.
• There are 25,000 starvation-related deaths each day.
• Each night more than 300 million children go to bed hungry.
• More than 4.4 million children die from malnutrition each year.

Sources: www.one.org, www.bread.org, www.unicef.org, www.who.int, http://www.unep.org/

I think I’d call that a crisis.

So how can we help?

• Donate online to Compassion's Global Food Crisis Fund. Just $13 can help a child for a month.
• Add a Global Food Crisis widget to your blog sidebar or posts.
• Pray for the Compassion Bloggers preparing to travel to India. Their stories and pictures will open so many eyes and hearts to the desperate need in India and what Compassion is doing to help.
• Just learn more about our world’s hunger problem. See if it doesn’t break your heart. Just see if God doesn’t give you a good word, too.

More predictable than the groundhog.

For the last several years, Mark has worked in jobs that are at least partly outdoors. On days like last Friday, when the sun is shining, the breeze is gently blowing and the temperature is pleasantly hovering somewhere between 60 and 80 degrees, I envy him.

On the other 354 days of the year, however, I'm thankful for my sterile, stuffy office building.

During the coldest weeks of winter, Mark bundles up so much that I'm not sure how he moves, much less drives a truck or a forklift. But the real way he keeps warm is by growing an enormous beard on his face.

It used to be contained to a ridiculous goatee that I begged him to trim and not play with. But two years ago, the goatee grew.

And took over his entire face.

Considering the brutal Midwestern cold (Hush up, northern neighbors. It feels cold to us!) and my indoor job and the paycheck he brings home, I finally realized that I should not complain.

After all, if I'd learned nothing in the 8 years before, it was that complaining about Mark's facial hair was futile.

But just like tulips and ragweed and groundhog sightings whisper that spring is on its way, so does the disappearance of Mark's beard.

And that special day? It was last Friday. Thank you, Lord.













What does the first sign of spring at your house look like?

When it rains, it sure does pour!

There must be something special about March 21. Because we've gotten more invitations for social events that day than we have in the last month!

Chelley and Triple are coming down to visit for T's birthday that weekend, so that trumps everything. But we've also been invited to a friend's son's birthday party, we won tickets to a basketball tournament and we'd considered going to the Christian Book Expo in Dallas that weekend. (Major bummer when we decided we couldn't afford that!)

And did I mention I'm singing with choir and we're scheduled to work in the nursery that Sunday?

I think there's something else...another invitation that I'm forgetting...but seriously, isn't that enough?

I'm really looking forward to seeing Chelley and Triple in a couple weeks (and the murder mystery party for T's big day - fun!), so I don't mind missing the other activities at all. And I'll be honest, Mark is probably better off taking a friend to the basketball tournament anyway! But it's just weird.

Do you find that this happens to you? Do you go weeks without a social event and then BAM! have a bunch in a row or even on the same day? What's up with that?!

My eyes, they have a mind of their own!

When I was little - maybe 5 or 6 - I remember my mom getting really upset with me for rolling my eyes at her. (Are you surprised?)

I wanted so desperately to stop, to behave, to be good. But the thing was...I didn't know what "rolling my eyes" was! And since I didn't know what it meant to roll my eyes, I certainly didn't know how to stop!

Fast forward a couple dozen years to, oh, tonight. At choir practice. In church.

We were practicing one of our very serious songs for Good Friday, and Brett, our choir director, was not happy with our tone. We were too bright, not singing tall enough. So he threatened - as he does from time to time - to make us stick three fingers in our mouth.

It's not as weird as it sounds. It forces us to really open up and have a tall, mature sound.

He kept threatening, and we kept singing...poorly. And so he said, "Okay, that's it. I'm not kidding. Do it."

I felt it start, and I'm telling you, I couldn't stop it. My eyes, they were a-rollin'!

You know, I'm a real sarcastic person. And I will confess to having the urge to roll my eyes often. I mean, we're talking several times a day. I'm not proud of this, but I have - for the most part - learned to control it. My favorite eye-rolling-controlling trick is to simply close my eyes. Close my eyes, roll my eyes, then open again. See?

Actually, no you can't see. And that's the point.

I don't know what happened tonight. Maybe I was tired. Maybe I was feeling at home and comfortable sharing my true feelings. Maybe I have had a rough week and was slightly annoyed at the thought of sticking half my hand in my mouth.

Whatever the excuse, I did it. I totally rolled my eyes. At my choir director.

I'm sorry, Brett. I didn't mean to disrespect you. I hope you'll still let me sing on Good Friday. I promise to open wide and sing tall. For realz.


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What's the point of Lent, anyway?

I don't mean to be sacrilegious or even disrespectful. The days leading up to Easter absolutely should be filled with reverence and worship. After all, we spend an entire month (and so much more if you work in retail) preparing for Christmas. Why not put the same effort and commitment into celebrating the death and resurrection of Jesus?

But what I've never been sure about, never fully understood is the practice of fasting during Lent.

To give you some background, I am a Protestant mutt. I grew up in a Presbyterian and Disciples of Christ church. I was briefly a member of a Methodist church, but have belonged to Baptist churches since college. So the bulk of my upbringin' and churchin' has not focused on giving anything up for the 40 days preceding Easter.

But I've always been drawn to this mysterious discipline. Once in college, I decided to give up pop (or soda to those of you not from here) for Lent. I've never been a big pop drinker, so it wasn't actually difficult (or much of a sacrifice).

Until the night I was visiting my parents and we had burritos for dinner. As I threw back the last of my rootbeer, I realized what I'd done. I drank pop! Drinking rootbeer with burritos was so ingrained in me that I didn't even realize it until it was too late.

Then a couple years ago, I decided to give it another try and gave up chocolate. To be honest, my intentions weren't so honorable or God-focused. I thought restricting my candy intake would jumpstart the weight loss I'm always reaching for. That's why I did it.

But it turned out that every time I wanted chocolate and couldn't have it (something that happened several times a day), I thought about why. Which made me think about the sacrifice Jesus made for me. And so, giving up chocolate that year really did draw me closer to God.

This year, though...this year, I also decided to give up chocolate. And again, I have to confess that my intentions were more about weight loss than spiritual discipline. But this year, I recognized what I was doing and decided not to do it after all.

Just to be clear, the timeline looks like this:

• The few days before Ash Wednesday, it occurred to me that hey, maybe I should give something up this year.
• The day before (this would be Fat Tuesday, for those of you keeping track), I settled on chocolate. I mean, it worked before, right?
• So on Ash Wednesday, I didn't eat chocolate. Same for Thursday and Friday. And Saturday, too.
• Then, on Sunday, I made brownies for our Bible study group.
• And I decided that giving up chocolate wasn't the best way to grow closer to God.

I discussed it with Mark. Was I just giving up because I wanted a brownie? Or was I really making a better decision for my spiritual walk? My loving husband said it was probably a little bit of both.

And he was probably right.

But more importantly, I am committing to reading through the book of Exodus over the next few weeks. I looked through my Bible to see if any of the books had exactly 40 chapters, and Exodus was the only one that met that criteria.

Or is it criterion? I'm not sure on that...

Anyway. Here's the cool part: for the past week, I have been excited to read my Bible each day. To be reminded of what God did for Moses and the Israelites. To notice details and messages I hadn't seen before. To learn what these stories from so long ago have to teach me in 2009.

And I haven't felt that way in a long time. Maybe there's something to this Lent thing after all.

What do you think about Lent? Do you give up something? Add something to your daily life for 40 days? How do you decide what to do or not to do?

Photo by happy homebaker


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Why wouldn't I give the baby pasta for dinner?

A few months ago, I decided my good little eater (this was before the toddler pickiness began, thank you very much) needed to experience pasta. After all, this is a food we eat at least once a week, so she should start getting used to it now.

So I gave her some pasta. And she loved it. She went. To. Town.

If only that were all the story, but no. This photo is one of many from that fateful night, but shows so clearly her overflowing, saucy joy at being able to eat and mess and eat and mess and...well, you get the picture. (Aha! No pun intended!)

And today I'm entering this photo in the i{heart}faces contest. Wish me luck!

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I've walked these streets in a carnival of sights to see

Photo by adscrubb

Well, we all survived Carnival Week. (At least I think we did. You're still here, right? Hello?)

While I was at it, I found a TON of different carnivals that happen every single week. And since I wasn't able to do them all (I believe that would have put me over the edge, to be honest!), I thought I'd give you a list here. Enjoy!

Monday
Mouthwatering Monday – Southern Fairytale
Not Me Monday – My Charming Kids
Menu Plan Monday – I’m an Organizing Junkie

Tuesday
Positive Post Tuesday – Brody Harper
What I Learned This Week – Musings of a Housewife
Top 10 Tuesday – Oh Amanda
Tasty Tuesday – Forever Wherever

Wednesday
Works for Me Wednesday – We are THAT Family
You Capture (photography) – I Should Be Folding Laundry
Wordless Wednesday – Wordless Wednesday

Thursday
Things I Love Thursday – The Diaper Diaries
‘Fro Me to You – The Glamorous Life

Friday
Flashback Friday – My Tiny Kingdom
Frugal Friday – Biblical Womanhood
Finding Freedom Friday (money) – Getting Freedom
Fat Burnin’ Friday – Mommy Snacks
Say it Forward – 5 Minutes for Mom

Sunday
Weekly Winners (photography) – Sarcastic Mom

So, have you found anything new online this last week? Learned about a new site, or participated in something cool? Let us know! And oh yeah - props to anyone who caught the Natalie Merchant reference in the title.


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