Thursday, August 30, 2007

Everybody's got a name for it.

Yesterday's conversation between my daughter, Sadie (3), and her 4 year old friend Ellie...
"Whisper, Whisper, Whisper"
Sadie: "Mommy, when you have a little born baby in your tummy, where does it come out?"
Ellie: "Does it come out your Boom Boom?"
Me: "What's a Boom Boom, Ellie?"
Ellie: "Nevermind."
Me: "Sadie, when you have a baby in your tummy, it comes out your China."
Sadie to Ellie: "See!"

Wednesday, August 29, 2007

Beauty from Ashes

About a year ago, Quincy got a dog.
Quincy loved Bear and Bear loved Quincy. Quincy's mom, not so much.
It worked anyway, for a while until Quincy was unable to consistently feed Bear and give Bear proper shelter. Then Bear started coming to my house. Digging under my fence and barking in our backyard at about 6:45 in the morning. It's a little like a rooster, only it's a dog and she wasn't ours. (We do have a rooster who lives around the corner. Just a little fun fact.)
My husband is a dog lover. A dog lover IF the dog is perfectly behaved, does not bark, and is a Labrador Retriever. Bear was none of those things but she was Quincy's and if Quincy loved this dog, so did I.
She slowly became our dog. Ok, let me rephrase that. She became my dog because she was ill behaved, barked, and was not a Labrador Retriever. And let me also say just in case Quincy is reading this and still trying to say I stole his dog; I used A LOT of my cards with my husband for this dog. But alas, Trey was never convinced.
Bear peed in my car and it smells bad. Real bad.
More Ashes.
Last week, we welcomed new neighbors to the hood. They work with my husband and we are so excited to have them here.
In fact, someone was so excited to have them in the hood that they broke into their house on their 5th night here and stole their stuff. Just a big basket full of West Dallas lovin'.
A big ol' pile of stinkin' ashes.
Well, OBVIOUSLY, what do you need when you move into a neighborhood where the welcome wagon has spinners and the pawn shop stays open late just to take in your stuff?
They wanted a dog and we had one too many.
Bear has a new home and she's so happy and the couple feels just a little bit safer.
Quincy is proud as a peacock because "his" dog is helping someone else and he's getting a few kudos for helping raise such a great dog.
Finally, my husband is oh, so happy and back to having to deal with only one dog. (She's a Labradoodle so he only likes 1/2 of her.)
Thank you, Lord for bringing beauty from ashes.

Monday, August 27, 2007


This is Quincy. How I love him, let me count the ways. He is a TURKEY who knocks on my door at 6:45 in the morning sometimes just to say "hi" before school, he "conveniently" loses the key to his house when we're having family movie night, he calls himself by our last name and today, introduced my father-in-law as his "grandfather", he rearranges and redecorates my house because "It's plain" and, he brings pets. Six weeks ago, he arrived at my house less than twelve hours before leaving for camp for a week with a lizard, a snake, and mouse.
Hmmm. Let's see.
"Quincy, who's going to take care of these while you're gone?"
"Could they just stay here until I get back? They're my pets and my momma won't let me keep them at the house."
"OK, Quince. ONE week."
Well, the lizard was set free that night.
The cat in the picture, Max, he ate the snake the second night.
The mouse, however, survived. It was a precious little baby mouse that my kids could hold and feed and it stayed in it's little box presumably, happy as could be.
Not so happy.
After about three days, it bit my child. Then it bit me. Then it escaped. IN MY HOUSE.
OK, an unfortunate event but I have a cat so OBVIOUSLY, the mouse didn't have a very long life expectancy.
That was six weeks ago.
The other morning, I saw movement in my pantry. It was the mouse. He was eating a roast beef sandwich with au jus and smoking a cigar. Happy as could be.
Quincy asked if we would catch him alive because, "He IS my pet."

Thursday, August 23, 2007

You're a long way from the Theta House.

My best friend Kitsie, who is also a mother of four, has a great husband who is always saying to her, "You're a long way from the Theta house, Kitsie."
I think about that quote several times a day when I look around my neighborhood and really think about what I thought my life would look like and what the Lord has given me to call home.
Trey is my incredible husband who has an intense passion for the desperately poor of Dallas. He started Mercy Street Ministries about 4 years ago and believing fully in incarnational ministry, we moved into the community so that we could prayerfully earn a voice and relationships with those to whom we would be reaching out; primarily the grade school children.
Wait. We have to move there?
Ya'll are moving there?
WHERE are ya'll moving?
Seriously, I really think some people thought we were crazy. (I developed a creepy laugh just for those people's benefit. :)
West Dallas is one of the poorest communities in our nation with the average family making combined, less than $18,000 a year. What results is an endless circle of public housing, poverty, fatherlessness, and hopelessness.
I am a stay at home mother to 4 children, Tee (8), Olivia (6), Graham (5), and Sadie (3).
My first trip to the grocery store went a little like this...
standing in line to check out...
"Um, excuse me ma'am, do you live around here?
"Yes, I do."
"I don't mean to be rude ma'am, I've just don't ever see any white people around here."
"Neither do I."
I can't wait to introduce you to all the kids that come into our home and the stories that come out. Some are hilarious, some are heartbreaking, but all of them are pictures of life a long way from the Theta house.

She made me do it.

I love my sister in law. She is beautiful, smart, and always dragging me into something I didn't know I wanted to do until I did it. For example, Skinny Jeans.
With her enthusiastic encouragement (and maybe a glass of wine), I was sure that Skinny Jeans were just what I needed to enter fall 2006 with confidence. SKINNY, come on, who's idea was it to take my beloved boot cut jeans and transform them into the tightest, skinniest, show every physical flaw to the world pair of jeans I had seen since the 6th grade? But, because she's my sister in law and a little bit persuasive, (did I mention the wine?) I bought them and, in all honesty, loved them.
Well, it's about that time of year again. Kind of back to school shopping for me and the absolute best thing she can come up with is a blog?
"You need a blog!"
"How about metallic accessories? Anything grey?"
"A blog."
Much like the skinny jeans, it's a little intimidating. What if no one reads it? What if I don't have anything good to talk about? Most important, what if no one thinks my blog is funny?
As I was tucking my kiddos in tonight and praying with them and telling them how precious they are to their daddy and I, giving them good night kisses and ooshie gooshying it up, my beautiful 6 year old daughter Olivia asks, "Mommy, if someone got their penis cut off, would it hurt? 'Cause there's no bones in it." (peals of laughter from her 8 year old brother who obviously put her up to it).
Then I know that, even if no one reads it or laughs, I can write about all the crazy things that happen in my life and my most organized friend, Gini, will be happily satisfied that I am, for once, "writing this stuff down". Check. Thanks, Em.