135. Old children's music records. Where can I find a record that has a version of "The Three Little Pigs" where the pigs make a spank machine for the wolf? Um, let's try the 1960's!
136. Running around my parent's pool table with a maraca in one hand, dancing the Cha-Cha to the Chipmunk's version of Old MacDonald. My son thought he was in heaven. My dad thought he was 4 again (he had a maraca and it was his record from his childhood).
137. Baby showers that were a long time coming.
138. A husband who brings you 7-up and Cranapple juice when you're sick, and takes care of the children, and runs screaming when you try to hug him in you sickly state, which makes you laugh.
139. Blustery days. They are wild, and they remind me of when I'd go out into the playground with my puffy jacket and try to turn it into a blimp. I had dreams of floating away in a billow of pink and purple puffiness. Remember when windy days meant spinning around on the grass like a helicopter? Second grade freedom.
140. Writing notes to friends on a rainy day. Real notes of textured paper and inky pens and overpriced stamps.
141. Watching someone drive a Spiderman scooter through your kitchen.
142. Making a salad with fresh lettuce from my vegetable garden. It survived my "green thumb" and it's delicious!
143. Someone who is crawling now and finding amazement in the doors and cupboards.
144. My mom. Two words, a billion blessings.
145. Remembering something I had forgotten: Christians aren't good at anything on their own effort. Performance is enslaving but Christians are dead, and so they are free. The trick for me is to remember that I'm dead, because lately I've been resurrecting my old self and running around, eating my friends, because that's what Zombies do.
"I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me." -Galatians 2:20
I have spent some time slowly creeping into my performing act that comes with living for my selfishness. I easily believe that everything I touch must turn to gold, or else I will not touch it. Meals must be perfect, words must be perfect, house must be perfect, children must be perfect, husband must be perfect. The failure is paralyzing and I've been mooning about, groaning, like the undead who wander the streets in classic horror movies.
"I am called to live in perfect relationship to God so that my life produces a longing after God in other lives, not admiration for myself." -Oswald Chambers
Somewhere along the way, friends who walk the same road whispered truth by living honestly. "The way up is the way down", and everything I do on my own, for myself, is worthless. The pressure to do anything good is gone again, and I can breathe again and carry on.
I'm alive in Him!
"Do nothing from selfishness or empty conceit, but with humility of mind regard one another as more important than yourselves." - Philippians 2:3
Start your list, see His love, be joyful!
