– for a brave boy who understands one of his spiritual gifts to be that of worship and has put it to action playing the trumpet for the praise team. (Even when it means leaving the house at 7:45am on a Sunday and not leaving church until 12:30!)

– for a beautiful kitty that came to us in a sorrowful way but continues to make us laugh, smile and remember Pam with such love and good memories.

– for a worship service that put into action all that we have recently learned and continues to put the challenge out in front of us to Pray Like Jesus.

– for a huge selection of beautiful, delicious produce at the grocery store. I am amazed at the options we have available. Despite being March, we can indulge in any fruit or vegetable imaginable!

– for a snowfall that I can enjoy simply by knowing it is probably our last.

– for a full tank of gas, a stocked fridge, clothes in the closet and a roof over our heads.

– for dear old friends, those who have tickled me with surprise packages this week, to those who have sent a special note or gave me a hug, you are all so dear to me.

– for dear new friends. People I have not known long and yet already feel close to. For those who pray for me, encourage me, check in on me and support me. When I reach out, there are so many arms reaching back at me to help support me and lift me up! God has placed you in my life for a reason and I am so blessed by it!

– for mentors. People to ask. People to talk to. People who can support and encourage my Christian walk. For those who help me to see the error of my ways and help me to stay on God’s path.

– for the courage to say no. To walk away from that which is toxic. To be able to care so much to let go. The courage to let go and let God.

– for a gracious heart in my son. With challenges surrounding us lately, with hard words and angry tension between us, he was able to recognize his responsibility in the matter and to take ownership. He is showing me his maturity in that he has not only learned the power of an apology, but understands a sincere apology comes with restitution.

– for the blessing of house hunting. As frustrating as the process is to me, I can recognize it as a blessing from above that we are able to be in a position to buy our own home.

– for the job that I have. While I worry about summer and wonder how long until I have a classroom of my own, I can stop and thank God for the job that I have right now. For the contact with students, for the paychecks, for the comraderie.

– for the opportunities to practice Random Acts of Kindness. One of my favorite things to do is to spread joy (and God’s love!) by bringing simple gifts of kindness into people’s lives. This week was a week full of opportunities and I felt fortunate to be able to seize those moments and spread JOY!

– for a sister and brother (in law) who will drop everything and come running to stand in a house with me and provide me with feedback, thoughts and impressions so that I don’t feel alone in my decision making this go-round.

– for answers to prayer. In the lives of my friends and family I am astounded by the ways that God is working in all of our lives!

– for perspective. For those little reminders that keep me humble and help focus my attention outside of myself. I am grateful that God reminds us that He can do “immeasureably more than we can imagine” and that His plans for us are full of hope, not of harm.

– for relaxing Sunday afternoons with my boy.

You know you should start to worry when…

…your teenager voluntarily says he’ll have his laptop, ipod, cell phone, camera and all other electronic devices waiting for you on your bed when you arrive home when you’ve only just stumbled upon the very edge of his transgression and know not yet how deep it really goes.

Worry. Worry indeed.

(But it’s all resolved. It wasn’t something I suspected out of my child, but I think yet another lesson has been learned. Why must Flash learn everything the very very hard way?)

A box arrived this week. I wasn’t expecting anything so I assumed the box at our door was something for Flash, but my heart lept when I saw it was for me from my dear friend, Stacy! I dropped everything on the kitchen table and ran for the scissors. I opened the box to find it full of books!! I pulled out the note tucked inside, a sweet sentiment from someone who knows me well. And then I pulled out each and every book, laughing as I did because she had taken the time to write a little something on a sticky note for each and every book. A comment about the book, or about the author.

It was those cute little notes that got me. They were just cute and sweet and they are so very Stacy.

I cannot explain how it feels to have a new HUGE stack of books next to my bed waiting to be read. Nor how wonderful it is to have an open invitation to return those books whenever I’m through, but only if I do so in person. I would love to be on my way today!

Stacy, you will always be an angel in my life!

She came into the lab with a crown on her head proclaiming her the official birthday girl. She’s a doll. You couldn’t take too many pictures of this Kindergartner if you were her mother. She’s all full of personality, too. A little sassy, but tucked in between layers of adorable, there’s no way to not fall in love with her.

“Happy Birthday!” I said as she sat at my feet on the rug. “How old are you today?”

“Well, today is not my usual birthday…” she explained with every ounce of that personality. “My usual birthday is tomorrow.”

“Today is just your school birthday?” I asked with a wink to her teacher who was stifling a laugh in the back of the room.

“Yes,” she replied. “Today is just my birthday at school. Tomorrow I will be six. On the usual day.”

It’s those unusual birthdays that will get ya every time.

when you say, “I told you so!”

I’m crazy. There is absolutely no other logical explanation. I’m just crazy.

I have spent the year griping and stressing and nagging and complaining and then what do I learn from it? Nothing. Nothing.at.all.

You know this gifted class that Flash is in? The one that my hair has gone grey over? The one that has put wrinkles around my eyes and pounds on my body? The one that has caused me to YELL, when I’m not really a yeller?

And remember how Flash took the SAT to try to get into the math portion on top of the English that he’s already enrolled in?

Well, the SAT scores didn’t work out very well this year. Down from last year. And we’ve been awaiting the “that’s great, thanks for trying but no dice” letter from the gifted program that would further confirm that God does completely understand my plight and agrees that Flash has no business being in the math program.

Today I was filling out his registration form for next year. For the English program. There has been much debate at the Eliza Jane household about this enrollment. Do I want Flash in the program? Absolutely. Do I dread Flash being in the program? Absolutely. But in the past month, he has turned a corner and seems to have a much better understanding of time management and good editing. And we had a long talk (or three) about next year and my expectations and Flash still really insisted he wants to be enrolled in the program. And so I was filling out the form and sending away more of my money when I decided to call and ask about these “no dice” letters.

And I had a delightful conversation with the program coordinator, who looked at Flash’s information and listened to me ask questions about her suggestions for what to do with a student who didn’t quite qualify for the gifted program but has already taken 8th grade math as a 7th grader and how I am at a loss as to what to do with him next year. And then she said the words. The words I really didn’t need to hear. The words that then allowed for my horrible stupidity and decision making to come into effect. She said, “If he is comfortable with the English program this year, his scores are certainly high enough that I have no problem at all recommending him for the math program next year.”

Say what?

So we talked about that a little bit and she said, “If you want to enroll him in the math, just add that on your registration form and we’ll get that taken care of.”

And then I did it. Then I really made the dumb move.

I PUT IT ON THE REGISTRATION FORM.

And I mailed it in.

I have no real explanation. Saying that I just couldn’t sit idly by while Flash wasted another year of his life being bored by his academics doesn’t really explain it. Saying that I know he can handle the material even if he didn’t score quite high enough on the SAT doesn’t really explain it. Saying that I’m sure after the battles we’ve fought all year long over the English program he’ll certainly try to do better next year doesn’t explain it. Saying I can’t stand the thought of him surrounded by some of the students at his current school for another day while his brain rots doesn’t even explain it.

So I’ve got nothing. Other than to say I’m crazy and stupid and I’ll regret this for many weeks next year.

Or maybe, just maybe, Flash will really get it. And he will not only have conquered time management, but he will also remember how to focus and direct his energies. And maybe I will watch this bright, beautiful child blossom with the opportunity to challenge his brain, and to be surrounded by peers not only as smart as he is, but – get this – smarter! Maybe it will be the right decision.

If not, feel free to just keep emailing me the link to this page next year whenever I complain and remind me that it was all my doing. I’ll try to be mature enough to take the blame and admit fault. Even if I’m busy nagging, yelling, and pulling my grey hair out.

If ever I was going to get a ticket, tonight was probably going to be the night. I had exactly 35 minutes to travel the distance from the town I work in to the town I live in (with a town in between) to pick up Flash at the college he takes a class at on Tuesdays to rush him to the dentist for a cleaning during the very-last-time-slot-we-could-take-without-me-having-to-take-time-off-work.

I was one minute late.

I dropped him at the door and rushed to my bank to have a notary sign the great piece of paper granting me these few hundred dollars only to find the notary? Had already left for the day.

So I headed back to the dentist to wait for Flash to be done with his appointment to find him WAITING IN THE WAITING ROOM. Yes, he’s still not in for his appointment. And we sat and chatted for at least ten more minutes before they called him back.

After his cleaning (and the scheduling of one last dental appointment, this time to fix a chipped tooth) we drive past two houses to know if they are worth a look inside (one yes, one no) and fly home. It’s Flash’s night to cook, but we have a basketball game to get to. And by ‘we’ I mean, I have a game to DRAG Flash to. He has no interest what-so-evah in a sporting event. I’m dragging him because a) he needs to get out of the house and socialize even if it is just with his mother and b) I’m hoping the jazz band will perform and that would be good for him to hear.

I fix a very fast dinner (although not a long stretch from being healthy) and we run out the door. We arrive at the high school, follow the parking attendants to where we need to park and follow the people we see to the appropriate doors. Only they aren’t the right doors, as all of these people are going to a financial seminar.

So we go back out and reevaluate and decide what doors we THINK would be gymnasium doors (although they are not labeled) and realize there is no one going in them at all. So we ask the parking attendant dude. And he has no idea.

And so we begin to realize that despite their marquee sign promoting “Quarterfinal game, Tuesday, March 24th, 7 pm, Tickets $6!” they do not actually mean to imply that they game is THERE. We call my sister who tries to find out for us, but by the time she is able to find no information at all, we are home. (As it turns out, they are playing Rockford which is significant only because it’s near where I grew up and the game is held in Lansing, MI.)

So here we are. Home. Hurried, rushed, with ill-feeling stomachs from a very hurried dinner, with broken plans and a complete lack of enthusiasm.

I was really looking forward to that basketball game.

My car is going to need serious repair.

Or maybe I’m going to find a house I love and I’ll need to give them “good faith” money with my offer.

Or perhaps Flash’s new glasses are about to break.

I’m not quite certain what financial need we are going to have in the next short while, I just know that we’re probably going to have one.

How do I know this?

Because a number of years ago, Stacy taught me how to reframe events in my life. At the time, I had been telling her how every time money came into my life, money that I thought I could tuck away in savings, or put towards something that could use it, some emergency happened and the money went right back out the door. It was Stacy who reframed it for me and pointed out that every time I had a need, God had already provided the finances for it. I’ve never forgotten her words.

So how do I know that something is coming down the pike that is going to need money I don’t readily have? Because today I received a notice that there are funds in my name that have been unclaimed (the letter came from my prior mortgage company). Funds in an escrow account. To the tune of a few hundred dollars. So, instead of setting my sights on something wonderful to do with this money (oh, like put it in the house fund) I know that there will probably be a need before long and I will simply transfer the funds and pay for whatever is needed.

And I will do it, remembering that it was God who put the money in my hands before he gave me a moment to worry about the need.

And I am very grateful for the reminder from Stacy that has stayed with me all these years. That helps me to see these moments of God’s provision in my life and to respond to Him with a grateful heart, knowing that He always has me in His care.

He’s done it before. Five times. But it’s still nothing to look forward to.

Today they pulled the last of Flash’s baby teeth. For a boy that’s always been more of an adult than a child, his baby teeth have always stubbornly refused to leave his mouth. Today we coerced the last two to leave. The dentist was the nicest we’ve ever had and beautiful to boot. With an office decked out with a TV that Flash can control and decor that makes you wonder exactly what your insurance money is paying, it gave the impression he was in for a spa treatment, not an extraction of two molars.

But my boy? Refuses the laughing gas because he likes his air “unmessed-around-with” he says. So he endures the needles and the pressure and takes it like a man. And I sit in the corner and wish they would offer me the laughing gas he’s refusing. Because watching seems worse than enduring to me.

And when we leave, his mouth all full of gauze, we talk about what to have for dinner, well, I talk and he gestures, finally agreeing that pancakes are soft and delish and the perfect idea for tonight. And I hand him $20 – he’s never believed in a tooth fairy, but I’ve always been generous with gifts after legalized torture, and so we smile at each other and for a moment, on this side of the procedure, he agrees that it’s not so bad afterall.

But in a little blue plastic treasure chest the size of a thimble, the dentist has just handed me what feels like the last of Flash’s childhood. He’ll turn 13 soon, and there’s not much boyishness left to my boy.

He might not tuck the treasure chest full of teeth under his pillow tonight, but I might sneak it into my drawer to remind myself that he was once my little boy. My very brave, taller-than-me, boy.

I’ve been discouraged.

The houses I’ve been looking at are okay. Just okay. They aren’t cute or quaint or charming. They don’t have personality or space or sunlight. They just are. Every once in awhile we see one that has a cute feature, but nothing that has a great package. Nothing that says ‘home’.

Until tonight.

Tonight I walked around in a home I would be delighted to live in. From the window seat in the dining room, to the spacious hardwood floor bedrooms with cute little reading nooks. From the bay window over the kitchen sink to the front porch. This was a home for me. Flash loved it. He was already talking about where to put this or that.

But we’re not buying it. It’s not the price. It’s actually the perfect price for us.

It’s the neighborhood. It’s not the worst in town, but it’s not one you drive around in and admire the landscaping the neighbors have done.

And so I said no. I won’t put in a bid. I’ll wait.

But it’s so hard to let this cute little house go. Cause it was so me. Me in the wrong place.

I was just standing in the kitchen reading my mom’s recipe. I had no warning, no indication it was coming, it just happened. Afterwards, I stood in shock for several moments. I think I might have even clung to the counter for balance. I still can’t believe it happened. Maybe it was all in my head. Maybe it was just a dream.

Flash hugged me.

On purpose. Without me asking. Without me hugging him first.

He just hugged me.

And to put my shock over the edge completely, he actually said, “Thank you.”

I hadn’t even done anything yet. All I was going to do was bake him my mom’s coffee cake for breakfast this week.

And he hugged me. And said “Thank you.”

I’m a little afraid to see what happens when it actually comes out of the oven.

Make a note, Eliza. Make a BIG note. FOOD is how you get through to teenagers.