Hey! Whatcha doing over here?

I've moved! Click on over to my new place:

katdish.net

New beginnings

On April 30, 2008 I began my maiden voyage into the blogosphere with the following statement:

"I'm not really sure what this blog is going to be about. But I've found myself writing really long comments on other people's blogs, so I figured I'd start my own and not subject anyone to my rambling commentaries unless they really want to read them."

Since I had no real defined goal or purpose for this this blog, I thought I would steal a line from a favorite t-shirt:

"People say I have ADD. They just don't understand...Hey look, a chicken!

And while I feel "Hey Look a Chicken" was a perfect title for my meandering ramblings, this blog has become more than that. I began to take things a bit more seriously. Not myself, of course (well, mostly not myself), but the influence I have on others.

Whoa! I know that sounds like an incredibly arrogant thing to say. I don't mean it to be. But here's the thing--all of us have a certain degree of influence. The more influence we have, the greater the sense of responsibility we feel. Unless, of course, you're a professional athlete, but I digress...



What started out as a hobby blog has turned into so much more to me. It's a meeting place, a conversation place, a place to vent, to ramble and to encourage. It's also become a place to share the spotlight with others much more talented than yours truly.

So, it's time to say goodbye to Hey Look a Chicken and tidy up a bit. To facilitate a cleaner, more professional yet still katdishy appearance, my geeky guru Peter Pollock has been hard at work on my brand spanking new website. A calmer, less distracting website where the writing is highlighted instead of all the stuff in the sidebars. (As an aside, I'm really hoping to find a place for Awesome Cat, because he is, after all, AWESOME!)

The content will remain much the same. You'll still find a post by Billy Coffey on Mondays and I will continue to introduce (and re-introduce) other writers on Wednesdays. And yes, I still reserve the right to be completely random and ridiculous the rest of the week. Or serious, if the mood strikes.

I'm packing up my stuff and "moving to the light" as Peter refers to it. ("It" being a Wordpress blog.)

Thank you all so much for your continued support and encouragement. I hope to see you at the new place:

katdish.net

Chickens with Purpose (by Heather Sunseri)

I trying to remember where I first came across today's guest blogger, Heather Sunseri. I want to say Twitter. Which, for those of you still stubbornly refusing to join, has been an incredible resource for finding some of the best writers on the internets. Just saying, Sharkbait.

Regardless, Heather's a great writer and a great person.

Here's her bio:

I am a Christian, wife and mother of two young children. I have worked as a CPA for the past 15 years for thoroughbred horse farms and in public accounting in Central Kentucky. I spend my free time as an inspirational writer and enjoy the little things in life from long bike rides in the country to homemade pizza and family game night.

Chickens with Purpose

I’m always pondering God’s purpose in my life. You know, the big plan. And do I have enough faith to know when I’m living it?

As a young child, I was taught to smile through most anything. God won’t send you a memo with a bullet-point to-do list on how to live out His plan. You must put one foot in front of another, get your hands dirty, put a smile on your face and get to work. Of course, all that mixed with a heavy dose of faith that God will pick you up when you fall, and you’ll feel Christ’s love as you work. I find it’s easier to do good works–you know the “works, which God prepared in advance for us to do”–with purpose if you keep the faith. Easier said than done, right?

I’ve also been a big believer that God’s big plan lies somewhere in the midst of the little jobs we do along the path of life. And I hope that’s what I teach my kids. The problem? I almost forgot recently. So, thanks, God, and thanks, Mom, for the little reminders to find joy in the little things in life.

One day toward the end of spring break, my mother called to ask me if each of my children could have a baby chick as a souvenir from their spring break with my parents.

I was working long hours, as is always the case January through April 15th for a tax accountant, when the call came. “Can your beautiful children bring home a couple of baby chicks?”

My response to my amazing, caring and generous mother? “Are you insane? Of course they can’t have a chickens.”

“Not chickens. Baby chicks. They’re so cute.”

“I’ll have to think about it.” That, of course, was my way of saying “no” to my mom, but I was too tired (cowardly) to actually say it and listen to all the reasons of why I’m unreasonable, unfair, etc.

I hung up and did what anyone working in an office would do. I pled my case to the people in the neighboring cubicles. And of course, just as I suspected, they all sided with me.

Later that day, I gave my mom all the excuses. “We don’t live on a chicken farm. Sharon, my co-worker, says they’ll die within two days – all baby chicks do. They’re smelly. My neighborhood association won’t allow it. We don’t have anywhere to keep them. We don’t have an incubator.” (I really thought the last one was the one excuse that would do it.)

After my mom countered each one of those excuses, I was worn out so I said, “Call Mike (my husband) and ask him. I’m spent.”

Mike said, “Absolutely not!”

Instead of two baby chicks, my children came one with…

THREE BABY CHICKS, all named, and with a reminder from my mom. “Remember all the things you learned growing up on a small farm. Remember the hamsters, the cats, and breeding Labradors. Remember the baby bunnies we saved one year and the countless wounded birds. Your kids are learning to be caring to all of God’s creatures.” (That seemed like a stretch. We already have a dog, a cat, and fish.)

“But you let the kids name them. Like pets. You don’t name farm animals you have no intention of keeping.”

Alas, after two weeks with Prim, Comet, and Jenna, I admitted to my ten-year-old daughter that I was thoroughly impressed with how well she took care of the chicks. They had grown and thrived. She and my son had cleaned their makeshift cage twice daily, fed and watered them. They even took them outside on sunny days and played with them in the yard.

“I’m proud of you,” I said, trying not to sound too surprised one day while dear daughter fed the chicks water. “You have provided these three chickens amazing care. And you’ve helped your little brother to learn along the way.”

“They’re baby chicks, Mom, not chickens,” she said. “And of course I cared for them. It was my purpose.”

“Your purpose, huh?”

“You know how you’re always talking about doing God’s little jobs with a glad heart, well this was one of those jobs. If I do this job with purpose, He’ll trust me with something even bigger next time.”

“You think so, do you?”

“Yeah, and I’m hoping he’ll trust me with dolphins or a monkey someday.”

My daughter’s a dreamer like me.

But she’s right. It was her purpose at that moment. And she got me thinking. Wouldn’t it be nice if I tackled all of my jobs (toilet-cleaning, carpooling, volunteer work, my current career, writing) with the purpose and glad heart they deserved? Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we all did?

We don’t get to see the blue print God has for our lives, and sometimes we’re faced with not-so-easy of times. But through faith and love of Christ, we put one foot in front of the other, dig in and get our hands dirty, put a smile on our face, and we just might get a small taste of the big plan.

***

To read more from Heather Sunseri, visit her at Balance with Purpose and follow her on the twitter at @HeatherSunseri.

Finding your Muse (repost)

I've been pretty busy this week. Lots of reading and working on my new website--but more on that later. I wanted to repost one of my favorite posts from a series I did based on Stephen King's novel, Duma Key. If you haven't read it, I would highly recommend it.


Excerpt from Duma Key by Stephen King:

How to Draw a Picture (Part 5)

Don't be afraid to experiment; find your muse and let her lead you. As her talent grew stronger, Elizabeth's muse became Noveen, the marvelous talking doll. Or so she thought. And by the time she discovered here mistake -- by the time Noveen's voice changed -- it was too late. But at first it must have been wonderful. Finding one's muse always is.

Must your muse be a person? Well, it certainly can be, but it doesn't have to be.

Your muse can be the questions you need answered or pain you want to make sense of. It can be the parts of your life you've just glanced over but never really delved into. Your children's future can be your muse; your own peace of mind.

In short, your muse is what inspires you to create when you're not feeling particularly creative; to work when you'd rather sleep, to promote yourself when you'd rather just find a quiet place to hide away from the world.

So, what drives me to create? Different things in different circumstances. But if I'm being honest (and I usually am), what drives me is the something my dad told me over and over as a child. Before I get into this, I need to tell you that my dad and I have a very good relationship now, and I don't hold any ill will towards him. Forgiveness is a gift you give yourself. But I digress...

His philosophy was anything worth doing is worth doing well. Which I believe is a true and noble directive. His paraphrasing of that expression is what has caused me to struggle with overcoming some obstacles, the biggest of which was self doubt. I still struggle with that. I think we all do to a certain extent. So, what were my dad's exact words? These:

"If you going to do something half-ass, don't do it at all!"

Adults often make the mistake of assuming children think the way they do. When I heard that statement, my first thought was, "Okay. I won't do it at all." So things that were difficult for me I simply avoided. I convinced myself that I wasn't really good at anything. But God knew better. I suppose I'm a bit of a later bloomer. I didn't really know what I was good at creatively until my thirties. I spent a whole lot of years simply existing, not living. But somewhere along the line a passion for art in many forms was ignited. It's scary, and difficult at times, but living is so much more fulfilling than existing, don't you think?

So...find your muse yet?

Letting Go (by Billy Coffey)

image courtesy of photobucket.com

There are plenty of folks who say the Civil War is still being fought around here, though perhaps not in the way most would think. I speak not of the lurking and sometimes blatant racism that is just as much a part of the South as it is the North and West. No, I’m talking about another sort of fight, the reality of which depends completely upon your point of view.

Among the great reasons to call Virginia home is its history. Some say the Indians first migrated to the our valley around five thousand years ago. Take a walk with me in the long cornfields by the river’s edge near my home, and you can find evidence of their centuries here—arrowheads and tomahawks, pottery and spearheads.

After them came the time of Washington and Jefferson and Madison, giants whose courage and vision founded history’s greatest nation. And then came Lee and Jackson and a time when that nation was torn apart.

Yes, lots of history here.

Lots of ghosts, too.

I was reminded of this yesterday when I spoke with an old-timer who told me of a house in the city that was once a hospital for Confederate soldiers. There’s a reddish-brown stain on the parlor floor there, he said. About the size of a small spill. According to the homeowners, the stain has always been there. If it’s cleaned up, it reappears soon afterwards. If a rug is placed over it, the stain somehow seeps through the rug.

Local legend states it’s the blood of a confederate soldier. The homeowners agree. Quite an outlandish claim of course, but to a lot of the people here it’s just one more ghost story among thousands.

Like the Indian warrior who haunts the factory near my home. Or the spirits who inhabit the local cemeteries. There’s an abandoned house near the railroad tracks that’s haunted by the ghosts of two murdered brothers.

Keep in mind this is just in my town. Get out of there and up into the hills, and to hear the stories you’d be led to believe there are more ghosts than people.

Such tends to be the case for those parts of our country still immersed in the old ways, where religion and folklore entwine in an always rich but sometimes clumsy dance. The older people tend to see these tales as true. The younger ones generally use them for late-night campfires with easily-frightened girlfriends.

But back to that old-timer.

Nice old guy. He’s lived in this town for ninety-plus years, and he says his family has been here for over a century. He’s a believer in the ghosts. He says there are parts of life we may never get a glimpse of, but that doesn’t mean they’re not real.

And he said this: “Those ghosts are stuck here in this world, you see. For whatever reason, they can’t let go. So they’re left to roam. They’re not living, but they ain’t dead either. And for that, they have my pity.”

In that moment all of those ghosts had my pity, too. I still didn’t believe in them, of course. To me, they were nothing more than rural fairy tales. But fairy tales tend to have a lot of truth wrapped in them, some warning or lesson to be heeded. And I began to think maybe our town’s fairy tales did, too.

There’s a lot to be said for holding tight to something, whether it’s a dream or an ideal or a hope. Perseverance and tenacity are virtues, I think. Good things.

But there are times for letting go, too. Times when holding on means to neither live nor die, but merely to roam. Our perseverance and tenacity can become twisted into something it was never meant to be, leaving us bitter instead of strengthened and a mere specter instead of a person.

And I thought, too, of those things I hold tightly to in my own life, things valuable and real. And I wondered if when the time came I could let go. I hoped so, I really did.

It’s a matter of faith, letting go. It’s the epitome of trust.

And we’ll often find that when we let go, we’ll grasp Someone who will never let go of us.


***

To read more from Billy Coffey, visit him at at his website and follow him on the twitter at @billycoffey.

Some things I learned and some I didn't from my mom

(For the record, I'm the adorable one in the middle with the Fred Flintstone feet.)

(This is a repost from last Mother's Day, but everything still applies.)

What my mother didn't teach me that I learned the hard way:

• that forgiveness is a gift you give yourself


• that God is my everything


• that having a newborn is not for the faint of heart


• that seeing your child in pain is excrutiatingly more difficult than your own pain


• that I really am creative, just not in the same ways she is


• that not all men are creeps


• that marriage isn't a fairy tale, it's a constant work in progress


• that just because it's true, doesn't mean it's not gossip


• that mother's aren't perfect, but love covers a multitude of sins

Things I learned from my mother:

• to make lemonade when life give you lemons, even if it's still a little bitter


• that creativity and a little elbow grease can go a long way


• to respect your elders even if you don't agree with them


• to always say please and thank you


• that steamed rice goes with just about anything, even spaghetti sauce


• that when there's nothing to laugh about, you can always laugh at yourself


• to always put the needs of others before your own


• to do an honest day's work


• that happiness is a warm puppy - even the 3 legged variety


• that sometimes life is just about endurance


• that actions always speak louder than words


• to pick myself up and dust myself off


• to never say "I'll never do that with my kids."


• that the youngest child usually gets their way by means of wearing you down


• that the youngest child gets sucker punched in the back when mom's not looking (okay, my sisters and brother taught me that one - frequently)


• that cute goes a long way, but character will go the distance


• to be a subservient and submissive wife (okay that one didn't really take)


• that giving to others is infinitely more satisfying that hoarding things for yourself


• that true beauty comes from within

Thanks, mom. I am a better mom because I am your daughter.

Happy Mother's Day to all you moms, daughters, grandmothers and granddaughters!

The obligatory weekly twitter update

Here we are again friends, My 46th twitter update. Dang, that a lot of tweets. When I first started this update, it was simply a means of gathering up a few random observations to share with my non-twitter friends. I'm not sure I was the first person to start doing this, but I've noticed some other folks outside my little circle of interweb friends have started doing their own versions, so for that I want to say sorry/you're welcome.

And now, the best of me (or not) on the twitter this week:

@llbarkat And you need to give me a link. Cuz I'm a lazy Yoda.

@llbarkat I share my superior wisdom with @billycoffey all the time. (in reply to llbarkat @billycoffey would love a tip from you (see the comment box at Green Inventions) & see if you can get @katdish to share her superior wisdom)

@llbarkat I specialize in unsolicited advice. (in reply to llbarkat @katdish I'm sure you must have a tip in there somewhere.)

"The grocery store is a black cesspool of unbridled despair." ~ Billy Coffey

@gabbysherri Night Smurfette!

@gabbysherri (shaking my head slowly in mock disapproval) Just google it. (in reply to gabbysherri @katdish-what the heck is tweetdeck?)

@gabbysherri Okay. Tell one of your sons to install tweetdeck on your computer or you'll never keep up.

Hey everyone! Follow @gabbysherri. It will freak her out.

@marni71 I wouldn't believe it if I didn't see it with my own eyes. (in reply to marni71 @gabbysherri I texted @katdish just to let her know u logged on. If she didn't faint, she'll come say hi.)

@gabbysherri SHUT. UP!!! I can't believe it!

When I finally met Mr. Right I had no idea his first name was Always ~ Rita Rudner

@redclaydiaries It's exactly like that. Or something... (in reply to redclaydiaries @katdish Eminent demise? Is that like eminent domain? Like the poo is trying to force us out of house and home?)

@duane_scott probably the Long Island iced teas. (in reply to duane_scott @CassandraFrear @katdish No, that was pretty pathetic. The poor lady. Who told her she could sing?)

@CassandraFrear Pretty sucktacular, huh?

@CassandraFrear @duane_scott This one's for you: http://bit.ly/bfgi0e


@duane_scott I'm laughing with you, not at you. Okay, maybe laughing at you a little bit... (in reply to duane_scott @CassandraFrear @katdish it is a talent. I can do Ice Ice Baby flawlessly. :) and a few nights ago I scored 98 on The Scientists by coldplay)

@duane_scott Is karaoke a talent? (in reply to duane_scott @katdish is Comedy. @PeterPollock is English accent. I'd have to go with karaoke. See, we all have talents! Whoop whoop.)

@redclaydiaries The random poo is a sure sign of eminent demise.

@duane_scott Comedy. (in reply to duane_scott @PeterPollock @katdish Let's put it this way. If we 3 were to have a talent show, what would you win at?)

RT @badbanana: Having a Yoplait yogurt with my lunch. Before you judge my masculinity, I'm also eating an elk head. Antlers and all.

@PRbytheBook Are you following @billycoffey yet?

RT @PRbytheBook: Authors: start early! "Begin an authentic conversation w/people interested in your topic..." http://huff.to/dqrrMz.

@chipmacgregor Ooo! I am an incredibly bad poet!

RT @chipmacgregor: We've started our annual Bad Poetry Contest at www.chipmacgregor.com - drop by and participate!

So, I need to work on my new website that the lovely & talented @peterpollock is building for me but I forgot my password. #ragingADD

@llbarkat @KathleenOverby If I can influence anyone to let their inner silly out, that is a very good day.

@KathleenOverby Okay, nevermind. That post DOES sound like I could have written it. Snort!

@KathleenOverby Ghost writing? Yeah, like I'd write something w/o getting credit for it. (in reply to KathleenOverby @llbarkat you're gonna win the 31 days thingy, because you're causing a ruckus and bribing with cake. Is @katdish ghost writing for you?)

Jesus said, "Go and make disciples", not "make converts to your opinions". ~ Oswald Chambers

"Every boy wants to be found brave and every girl wants to be found lovely." ~ Jeff Hogan

RT @tremendousnews: It's Cinco de Mayo! Unless you don't have your papers in Arizona. Then it's just a Wednesday you'll never forget

Wow >RT @jeremypeterson: the future of worship??? http://bit.ly/de8N6s


@VariantVal Ah yes. Laugh, and the world laughs with you...Cry and you look like (expletive).

@llbarkat what do you mean,"just" me? Snort! (in reply to llbarkat @katdish I am happy to report that you and the Dalai quadrupled my blog traffic yesterday. Okay, okay, I'm sure it was just you ;-)

@buzzbyannies Happy Cinco de Birthday, Annie!

Okay. Too much technical computer stuff. I need to walk away and eat a sammich.

@lainiegallagher But I will because I love your bossy little self.

@lainiegallagher You're not the boss of me... (in reply to lainiegallagher @katdish Tell your new FB friends to be my friends, too. Do it.)

RT @jamieworley: Just made up a new word: "squirky." It means squirrelly and quirky. Sometimes I am both of those, so I need a good word. ;)

RT @gyoung9751: @katdish Linking up with FB and Twitter is either Facebookerocious or Twittelicious

@gyoung9751 Thanks, Glynn. I don't need katdishionary words at the moment, I need INSTRUCTION

GAAAAA!!!! Okay. Thanks for all the FB friends. Now how do I link up with twitter?

Okay people. I created a new facebook account: Katdish Dishman-Richards. I have no friends currently. Sad...I know.

@noveldoctor Writers can't help but write. Even when it's not on paper. It's safer on paper than in your head, though.

RT @noveldoctor: If all writers truly followed the "write what you know" maxim, wouldn't most novels be about rejection?

@noveldoctor He WAS in Karate Kid! (in reply to noveldoctor @katdish Or Ralph "Espresso" Macchiato. Wait, wasn't he the Karate Kid?)

@noveldoctor I think they might figure it out when your characters have names like "Carmelatta". (in reply to noveldoctor I get some of my best story ideas from the customers at Sbux. They just don't know it.)

NERD ALERT >RT @Brian_Russell: Anyone on Xbox Live? Because we should totally nerd it up together.

@PeterPollock Nope. Just outright adoration and appreciation. (in reply to PeterPollock @katdish When I saw "My Geeky Guru" I was sure that there must be a way to TWSS it, but I just can't find it!)

Just called @PeterPollock my "geeky guru" in a DM. It's a shame I can't post my DMs on my twitter update. Don't worry, I'll never do that.

@amysorrells Oh, be careful what you wish for Amy. (in reply to amysorrells @katdish In that case, I want to be just like you. (((snort!)))

@amysorrells Oh, pish posh! Never grow up! (in reply to amysorrells I want 2 B like them when I grow up: @MaryDeMuth @michaelhyatt @thepioneerwoman @RichardMabry @sarahmarkley @1nicolebromley @flowerdust)

When creativity gets away from you

image courtesy of photobucket.com

Yesterday I posted several pictures here. For those of you who are still wondering, yes, all those projects were done by yours truly, and no, I have no formal training. Just sort of figured things out as I went along. I tend to throw myself head first into anything that fuels my creative spirit. There is an energy and a spark when you take an idea in your head and it transfers well to a final result. That goes for anything. Not just the creative arts.

Then there are times when my big plans and lack of planning get me into messes. Case in point. While turning what once was the kids playroom into a studio/office, I decided that the windowsills were cumbersome and were taking up too much space. (They protruded a whopping 2 inches.) Had my husband been in town, he would have talked me out of it. Temporarily, anyway. But when I get something in my head, I'm pretty determined to see it through. This can be very good. It can also be very bad. Here's a post from last year. A cautionary tale:

The New Math:

Well, it's Saturday and I am hard at work in my soon-to-be uber fantastical studio/escape from the world. I am taking a brief respite from the task at hand to give you a brief peek into the glamorous life of me. (Sure, don't mention it.)

Here's a new mathematical equation to ponder:

Impulsive, impatient Katdish

- methodical, practical husband

+high powered reciprocal saw

=Uh, oh...Sorry. My bad

Okee, dokey! Well, I gotta got figure out how I'm going to fix this before my DH gets home. Oh, wait...he reads my blog...DANG! So, how's your day going?

For the record, I did fix the damage (all by myself thankyouverymuch) and the windowsills now only protrude one inch. So there...

This is also where I came up with the quote,
"The creative spirit cannot be enslaved by the oppressive chains of reason and logical thinking" when Texas Shawn asked me: "Um, what did you set out to do?"

Also the first and only time my husband commented on my blog:

"I guess I should look at the bright side and be grateful that I learned of your handy work via your blog and not a call from the hospital.Curious to learn what your a sculpting."

So menfolk, the next time your wife complains about you leaving your dirty socks on the floor, look on the bright side, you could be married to me.

The thing about writing

image courtesy of photobucket.com

Writer. Me? Hmm…not so sure about that. More like someone who pushes ideas out of her head. Sometimes they land on paper or onto a computer screen,

other times in a brain storming session.

(This waffle pic ended up on the front of a worship CD.)

Then again, these ideas might find themselves on a canvas...



or a wall...



a piece of furniture...


or even a plastic container...


Then there are times when ideas get a bit scrambled on the way out and result in the removal of a windowsill or three by means of a powerful reciprocal saw. But I digress…


The thing about writing—good writing—is it has to be honest. You can’t hide behind technical brilliance or clever sentence structure. These things help convey a better story, but they don’t make the story. You do. Being honest with yourself can be scary. Being honest with yourself with the world reading along can be downright terrifying.

Your story doesn’t have to be factually accurate. Some of the most honest writing is the truth wrapped carefully within a fictional tale. But it shines through in the very best writing.

So today, I want to recognize all of you brave souls whose truth shines through your words—in your poetry, your short stories, your candid observations and even your sarcasm and parody.

Thank you. Reading your truths gives me courage to share my own.

Meeting Jakob (by Jeff Selph)

Before I introduce my guest blogger today, I wanted to wish my beautiful, brave, butt-kicking friend Annie K a very Happy Birthday, and invite you to drop in on her blog and do the same. Love you, gal! (Y'all really need to stop having birthdays on Mondays and Wednesday. It messes up my schedule.)


And now back to our regularly scheduled guest post...



I usually write a short intro for the folks that guest post here, but Jeff has done such a good job explaining how our paths crossed on the internets, I'll just let him tell you. I will go on record as saying that he is one of many chronically sarcastic pastors (my favorite kind of pastors, btw) that somehow find their way to my blog. Wonder why that is...

Here's Jeff:

I am a youth and children's pastor in Kalamazoo, MI. The most important thing in my world is my family. My wife's name is Sarah, and my son's name is Jakob. I am a nerd. I have no problem with that. I grew up Baptist, but like sheep, I have gone astray. I am non-denominational.

I, like many of you, found this blog by reading funny comments left by Kathy on Stuff Christians Like posts. If I see a comment I like or hate, I usually click on the person's profile, check out their blog, and start liking them more or disliking them more based on what I see. My first visit here, I found her yelling at some kid for stealing her kid's Pokemon cards. It was kind of a rant. I like ranting and the idea of being mean to children, so I decided to subscribe. I have been amused, appalled, moved, and incited to rage many times over the last year, and I have enjoyed it.

A few weeks ago, Katdish - I really believe that is her real name, even if her mom calls her something else - pointed out that I had not offered to write a guest post for her blog yet. I was simultaneously flattered and confused. I was flattered, because I am not really a writer's writer. I don't think my blog even has a theme. So for someone to ask me to write for their blog is a novel and flattering concept. I was confused, because I don't know how this guest blogging thing works. I had no idea that you are supposed to offer to guest post on someone else's blog. I thought they were supposed to ask you. Is offering to write for someone else's blog not like inviting yourself over to someone else's house? I think it is exactly the same, and I was never allowed to invite myself over to anyone's house when I was younger. That explains why I've never offered my services to anyone, and probably never will, unless I become really famous, because I'd probably be really arrogant about the whole thing, and I would assume that everyone would want me to write for them. But since she has asked, I will write, and I will tell you about when I met my son.

My wife, Sarah, is Korean, but she has a very light, fair complexion. I am a real whitey, of Jewish and German descent. It doesn't get much whiter than this. I always looked forward to whenever we would have a child, because I really do think Asian kids are the cutest. My one hangup was that I was disappointed that if we had a child, he would probably not look anything like me.

In January of last year, we learned that Sarah was pregnant. We were so excited. We couldn't wait to find out the gender. Once we found out that she was having a boy, we started imagining what he would look like. Of course, he would have brown eyes, pin straight brown hair, almond shaped eyes, and a flat nose. He had to, because he was half Korean. Most half-Asian kids I'd seen looked predominately Asian. So we also figured he'd have a little bit darker complexion than me. We were hoping that maybe he could at least have my smile or ears or something.

Sarah had a scheduled c-section. The morning was hectic. They decided that due to previous back injuries that Sarah had sustained, they didn't want to do an epidural. They just knocked her out. So they escort me to the hall for "just a moment." A few minutes later, one doctor came out and told me that I had to stay out in the hall. I was pretty upset, because I didn't even tell Sarah that I loved her or give her a kiss goodbye, which I would have done if I had known. So they station me outside the operating room. I took out my camera, because I wanted to at least video the procedure for Sarah, since she was going to sleep through the whole thing. Not happening. A scrubbed up doctor walked to window, pointed at the camera, and told me to put it away. I couldn't video. So I took out my other camera to take pictures. Truth be told, I did take a little video with my digital camera, just to spite them. They don't know, but I feel better about it.

There was a lot of commotion and jerky movements in the delivery room. It looked like the doctors were trying to wretch Jakob free from Sarah's incision. I was a little nervous, because that's how I roll. But I kept my eyes trained on the doctor that would no doubt be holding my son up for me to see. After about fifteen minutes, a nurse came up behind me and told me to come with her. I refused. I told her that I had a good view of what was going down, and I wanted to get a picture. She insisted that I come into the next room with her. After a little back-and-forth, I agreed to come.

Inside the room, there was a screaming baby boy. I looked at him for a moment. It meant very little to me. I was too excited to meet my son. I started to walk right past him. There were two delivery rooms over there designated for c-section babies, so I assumed that he had just come from the room behind me. After a few seconds, I noticed that there were tags laying next to this screaming baby - who I found to be very distracting - were little hospital bracelets waiting to be placed on his ankles. They read, "Baby Boy Selph."

I had no emotional reaction at that moment. The very first thought that popped into my head was, "But he's white. He should be yellow." After analyzing his color for a moment, I got excited. I couldn't believe it. Through the screaming, i could see a few things about him: he had my mouth, his nose wasn't too flat, he had my hairline, and he was screaming uncontrollably. He actually looked a little like me. It was amazing.

I'm proud to be his dad. He's beautiful. I know, he's a boy, and I should say that he's handsome. He's that, too. Every time he starts doing something new, I get so excited. I anticipate that even when he aggravates me, I will always think the best of him. He's my son. And if he ever asks me what I thought the first time I saw him, I will tell him the truth: "But he's white. He should be yellow."

Shalom,

Jeff Selph

***

To read more from Jeff Selph, visit him at Selph Inflicted and follow him on the twitter at @jewda4.

Trading my Sorrows

image courtesy of photobucket.com

I'm not much for happy, shiny Christian songs. Having said that, there's something about Trading My Sorrows that helps me remember this passage from 2 Corinthians 4:8-12

"We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed. We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body. For we who are alive are always being given over to death for Jesus' sake, so that his life may be revealed in our mortal body. So then, death is at work in us, but life is at work in you."




I'm trading my sorrow
I'm trading my shame
I'm laying it down for the joy of the Lord

I'm trading my sickness
I'm trading my pain
I'm laying it down for the joy of the Lord

Chorus:
And we say yes Lord yes Lord yes yes Lord
Yes Lord yes Lord yes yes Lord
Yes Lord yes Lord yes yes Lord Amen

I'm pressed but not crushed persecuted not abandoned
Struck down but not destroyed
I'm blessed beyond the curse for his promise will endure
And his joy's gonna be my strength

Though the sorrow may last for the night
His joy comes with the morning

***

I choose Joy

Yesterday I chose fear of the unknown
Today I choose trust
Yesterday I chose regret
Today I choose acceptance of a bigger plan
Yesterday I chose to cling to selfish love
Today I choose Love (big "L")
Yesterday I chose to wallow in what could be
Today I choose whatever God's will is for my life
Yesterday I chose sorrow
Today I choose Joy
Over fear, over doubt, over worry, over pain...
Today I chose Joy
And am praying that you choose Joy as well.


This post is part of the One Word Blog Carnival: Joy hosted by Bridget Chumbley over at One Word at a Time. You should check it out. And tell her I said hey!

Going under (by Billy Coffey)

image courtesy of photobucket.com

A postscript concerning my son’s tonsillectomy last week:

Upon further reflection—and when you’re awake all night like I was, there is plenty of time for reflection—it wasn’t the visit to the hospital that worried him. He was okay with the hospital. And it wasn’t even the pain. What worried him the most was the very thing he most looked forward to.

The happy gas.

It’s tough trying to explain a medical procedure to a six-year-old, especially when the ins and outs are pretty vague to his father. I didn’t really know what tonsils and adenoids were, what function they served, or why they were giving him such trouble. But the anesthesia part I knew.
So I told him he got to wear a mask like Batman did and that the air would smell like cotton candy and he’d fall asleep. And while he was asleep the doctors would do their business and make him better.

“You won’t feel a thing,” I told him. “Promise.”

He didn’t believe me.

Experience had taught him otherwise. He’d slept before, and he’d either done things or had things happen that he not only remembered, but felt.

He fell out of the bed twice. Felt that. Bopped his face against the headboard. Felt that, too. He’s also awakened himself by burping, talking, snoring, and coughing. Sometimes all at once.

No way, he thought, no way, would he be able to sleep through someone operating on him.

So I explained that the happy gas wouldn’t just put him asleep, it would put him really asleep, and that the doctor would make sure he stayed that way until everything was finished.

Afterward, once we were home and he was safely on the sofa with his ice cream, I asked him about it.

“I didn’t feel anything,” he said. “I can’t even remember anything.”

And then he said this—“I wish I could have some of that for when I go to school. That way I could just wake up when I got home and I wouldn’t remember any of it.”

Funny, yes. And that definitely pegged him as my son. But he really had a great idea there, at least on the surface. Wouldn’t it be great if we could have some advance warning to the less than perfect things we have to face? And wouldn’t it be great if just before we could put on a Batman mask, breathe some cotton-candy air, and fall asleep through the whole thing?

Yes. It would.

I’ll admit for a while I did my best not to try and poke holes in his Happy Gas Theory. I knew there were some and most likely many. But sometimes we take comfort in those things that aren’t and can never be. That’s what I did while sitting on the sofa with him. I reveled.

But the truth of course was that we had to go through our painful things sometimes. We could slide around some and jump over others, but sooner or later a storm would come that we couldn’t outrun or take cover from, and we were left to stand there in the open under the pour.

Sometimes, that didn’t seem right to me.

It would make more sense to say that if God was there and if God was good, He would take better care of the ones who loved Him. He would make sure our paths were clear. He would prevent the pain and the pour and the doubt. He would take away the fear.

If there was such a thing as everyday happy gas, I thought, then shouldn’t it be God?

Maybe. But maybe that pain and pour and doubt served a purpose that outweighed the need for our happiness. Maybe we needed fear so we could know the value of faith.

Maybe.

I didn’t know for sure, but I thought the odds were good that He’d spared me from a great many troubles in my life without me knowing it. Not happy gas, but maybe something better. And as I looked down and saw my son wince when he tried to swallow, I knew that all the happy gas in the world couldn’t take away all the pain. Some still lingered.

That was true for all of us, I supposed. We were all a collection of bruises and cuts. We all had our tender places.

And I thought that in the end, it was our pain and not our happiness that brought us nearer to heaven.

***

To read more from Billy Coffey, visit him at at his website and follow him on the twitter at @billycoffey.

The Graciousness of Uncertainty (Oswald Chambers)

The following is taken from My Utmost for His Highest by Oswald Chambers. It is from the devotion for April 29. I've been meditating on this scripture and Mr. Chambers words this week:


"It doth not yet appear what we shall be." 1 John 3:2

Naturally, we are inclined to be so mathematical and calculating that we look upon uncertainty as a bad thing. We imagine that we have to reach some end, but that is not the nature of spiritual life. The nature of spiritual life is that we are certain in our uncertainty, consequently we do not make our nests anywhere. Common sense says - "Well, supposing I were in that condition . . ." We cannot suppose ourselves in any condition we have never been in. Certainty is the mark of the common-sense life: gracious uncertainty is the mark of the spiritual life. To be certain of God means that we are uncertain in all our ways, we do not know what a day may bring forth. This is generally said with a sigh of sadness, it should be rather an expression of breathless expectation. We are uncertain of the next step, but we are certain of God. Immediately we abandon to God, and do the duty that lies nearest, He packs our life with surprises all the time. When we become advocates of a creed, something dies; we do not believe God, we only believe our belief about Him. Jesus said, "Except ye become as little children." Spiritual life is the life of a child. We are not uncertain of God, but uncertain of what He is going to do next. If we are only certain in our beliefs, we get dignified and severe and have the ban of finality about our views; but when we are rightly related to God, life is full of spontaneous, joyful uncertainty and expectancy.

"Believe also in Me," said Jesus, not - "Believe certain things about Me." Leave the whole thing to Him, it is gloriously uncertain how He will come in, but He will come. Remain loyal to Him.

Sleep deprivation and the Twitter

I've had sort of a weird week. And for me, that's saying something. Lots of things on my mind. Didn't sleep very well this week. But I did manage to enhance a few lives through the power of social media just the same.

The best of me (or not) on the twitter this week:

@chrissulli Yeah, spending a week on the beach in the Caribbean sounds pretty crappy. (in reply to chrissulli @katdish its nothing against them. I'll just be so close then and bored on the beach.)

@billycoffey No. Thank YOU. You big deal, you... (in reply to billycoffey @Daylilie222 @katdish @chrissulli @Julie_Weathers Thanks for the #FF!)

@chrissulli Is your family on twitter? Hope not. (in reply to chrissulli @katdish Ya. First week I'm there I'm on vacation with my fam Think I'm going to be miserable the whole time and ready to go see the kids.)

@chrissulli Good Morning, Chris! Thanks for the RT. Sent you some stuff yesterday. Are you getting excited to get back to the DR?

#FF @billycoffey because he's kind of a big deal, even though he'll never admit that.

@buzzbyannies Okay, I'm totally jealous... (in reply to buzzbyannies @katdish Oh I think you secretly are. snort!)

@buzzbyannies NOT jealous. Not at all... (in reply to buzzbyannies @CandySteele See you in Seattle! Woot!)

We cannot suppose ourselves into any condition we have not been in. ~ Oswald Chambers

Certainty is the mark of a common sense life, gracious uncertainty is the mark of the spiritual life. ~ Oswald Chambers

Agreed! RT @lainiegallagher: @katdish is the coolest!

@dustinlamont Our drummer says that too. Among other things. (in reply to dustinlamont Sorry for the inappropriately simplistic tweet of "poop" by one of my drummers who took my phone. This goes in the history books. Oh matt.)

I can't complain but sometimes I still do - Joe Walsh

@HeatheroftheEO Thank you! You like me! You really, really like me! (in reply to HeatheroftheEO And the award for The Blog That Hates 100 Things goes to @katdish for http://katdish.blogspot.com/)

@beckfromfrogandtoad Your Catholic Dutch grandmother-in-law? That's a mouthfull.

@HeatheroftheEO Because seriously. Those are the rules

@HeatheroftheEO Well please make sure in order to win the award, winner must tell 100things about themselves & make 8 other people do so. (in reply to HeatheroftheEO I think I'm going to start my own blog awards. I'll give away awards like "best colors for a blog" - "prettiest dog on a blog" & stuff.)

Okay. Seriously leaving to run some errands now

@Helenatrandom No silly. I hope you write a short story. (in reply to Helenatrandom @katdish You hope I disintegrate? That's kind of odd...)

@Helenatrandom Ooo! I hope you do. (in reply to Helenatrandom @katdish haven't tried fiction since I was in college. If I was any rustier, I'd disintegrate.)

@marni71 Well that settles it. I'm gonna read it! (in reply to marni71 @katdish It would likely be your most stellar #Katrant yet!)

@marni71 Yeah. But that could be an excellent katrant, doncha think? in reply to marni71 @katdish Don't read The Shack. If u thought The Giving Tree could cause a #Katrant...well, just sayin'.)

I felt that the it embodied the spirit of the actual meaning of IMGNAHS, which is, "I'm gonna need a hack saw."

The winner for my "guess the acronym" contest is @RobinMArnold, even though her guess of "I might go nuts and hurt someone" was incorrect

Malcolm Gladwell's writing pretty much fascinates me.

@muchl8r What part of town are you going to see a doctor? (in reply to muchl8r No joke, every bloody doctor i see makes me take my freaking pants off. #Why?!!)

@duane_scott Or else what? You'll beat me over the head w/an ear of corn? (in reply to duane_scott @katdish It's one of my favorite books. You got me to read the Gordon book by Stephen King. Now, you read The Shack or else.....)

@duane_scott I have a copy of The Shack. I can't bring myself to read it. Don't know why. Just stubborn I guess

@amysorrells You rendered my smart aleck comment useless. (in reply to amysorrells Oops. Smell the PANSIES. (Thanks, @katdish) New blog post: http://ow.ly/1DSt8)

@jmarkowski0 Oh, I love that song! Child of the 80s that I am. (in reply to jmarkowski0 @katdish My kids love that song and The Tubes "She's a Beauty", makes me smile every time)

@amysorrells Cracks me up.

My 8 YO daughter just came thru the door singing 867-5309. I love her.

@10MinuteWriter Thanks. That's encouraging. (in reply to 10MinuteWriter All you grumpy moms out there who think that taking a nap will refresh you: keep in mind that the house WILL be messier when you wake up.)

@Brian_Russell Ooo! That creepy awesome! (in reply to Brian_Russell @katdish Yeah, its just radio, but you used to have to tell it what you liked... now it just... knows.)

@Brian_Russell Okay. But you're not the boss of me. (in reply to Brian_Russell @katdish Go to Pandora.com and see what I mean.)

@Brian_Russell Okay. That tweet made no sense to me at all. (in reply to Brian_Russell The new Pandora that Facebook stalks you is pretty accurate.)

RT @br8kthru: @weightwhat I asked first but u ignored me! Fine. Since u like crafts, I made u something special: http://yfrog.com/5h181zcj


@Serverman5 Yes! And gross. I hate that place too. (in reply to Serverman5 @katdish oooo, so its like applebys is it? Bad everywhere.)

@Serverman5 You could just remove the "in Round Rock" and that would still be a true statement. (in reply to Serverman5 Salt grass in roundrock blows.)

It seems @buddylovethedog likes them too. http://twitpic.com/1ix4pe


I love the little wildflowers mixed with the grass in the yard. http://twitpic.com/1ix409


My tweetdeck is down. Carry on.

@redclaydiaries Twitpics? (in reply to redclaydiaries Note to self: harem pants are not a good daytime look. #peoplewatchinginthemall)

@jewda4 Thanks. It's what I do. (in reply to jewda4 @katdish you have corrupted an originally clean tweet about hard work and ingenuity. job well done!)

@prodigaljohn And sometimes they cost sweaty money. And involve a stripper pole. (in reply to prodigaljohn Most dreams don't cost money. They cost sweat.)

@Doallas I could probably break her down. It's been done many times before. (in reply to Doallas RT @katdish: Man, I wish my writing could inspire stories like this everyday!: http://bit.ly/aZUjR3 //I wish Louise would get on Twitter.)

@lainiegallagher Do you mean Dave my computer table, or that dorky strap on lap top desk from the Skymall? (in reply to lainiegallagher @katdish Don't you have some kind of awesome laptop desk or something that you were touting a while back?)

@weightwhat Okay dang....that's just wrong on so many levels. (in reply to weightwhat @katdish By any chance did you cut your hair and take a trip to Walmart? http://www.peopleofwalmart.com/?p=12891)


Okay. Off to take a power nap!

Confession No. 2 of the day: I need a nap. I'm on like 3 hours sleep. Sometimes I can't shut my brain down, & now I'm paying for it

@CassandraFrear It is good. Gotta work w/in the confines of what we are capable of. But we're capable of much more than we know. (in reply to CassandraFrear @katdish Well, that just shows how unique each person is. We learn to work with what we've been given. It's good.)

@CassandraFrear a LOT!!!! (in reply to CassandraFrear @katdish I just Googled Low Carb Monster. See what you started? How much caffiene is in one?)

@CassandraFrear For today, yes. (in reply to CassandraFrear @katdish So are you off coffee completely?)

@CassandraFrear No. I've switched to low carb monster. It's after lunch, after all. (in reply to CassandraFrear @katdish Thanks. Got any coffee?)

Who says you can't find quality you tube videos on the Smartypants Blog? I do! http://bit.ly/b66sUw

@CassandraFrear Well, welcome aboard the crazy train. (in reply to CassandraFrear @katdish And just think. I've decided to be a writer.)

@CassandraFrear I was putting "air quotes" around the word "special". Some things get lost in translation (in reply to CassandraFrear @katdish I just Googled "air quotes". It didn't help me understand your last tweet. Clue?)

@CassandraFrear Sorry. You know when someone says something & the put their 2 fingers of each hand up to indicate something in quotes?

@CassandraFrear "air quotes" (in reply to CassandraFrear @katdish Well, I have trouble with meanings AND spellings. That's because I'm special.)

So, I got the most AMAZING note in the mail this week. Never hesitate if you feel lead to encourage someone. It truly blessed me

@CassandraFrear Oh, that's way too practical for me! (in reply to CassandraFrear @katdish My editor husband inserted American Heritage Dictionary in my bookmarks bar. http://bit.ly/cBSmL9 I use it often.)

Confession: I use google as my go-to spell check engine at least twice a day.
Writers: @spressfield has a great writing post every Wednesday: http://bit.ly/2s7zRq

@lainiegallagher Hello there! Welcome to the twitter! Now go get yourself an avatar. That bird creeps me out.

@redclaydiaries Nice! http://twitpic.com/1ihap3


@PeterPollock You are a strange man, Peter Pollock. (in reply to PeterPollock Just touched a stingray. It felt like jello. Or pudding. It's making me hungry)

So many mailboxes, so little time. http://twitpic.com/1i2v84


@cascheller It's funny because it's true... (in reply to cascheller @katdish I like the Moms Are Better than Dads T-shirt.)

@redclaydiaries I gotta be me...or Bon Qui Qui. Whichever is applicable. (in reply to redclaydiaries @katdish RUDE.)

@redclaydiaries Ah will cut you... (in reply to redclaydiaries @katdish Sorry/you're welcome. I wonder if they deliver in Texas...)

@redclaydiaries Oh GAAAAA!!! Make it stop! (in reply to redclaydiaries Reading about new kids' birthday fad: http://bit.ly/9QqMWx So @katdish, is THIS how you were scarred for life?)


I'm at my dad's house: Land of crappy internet. The epic twitter update has been posted (finally)