The Elixir of Life

I remember reading The Trumpeter of Krakow, when I was in high school.  It was a fabulous book and I highly recommend it to anyone who loves reading good literature.  That's where I learned the term "elixir of life".  It's great phrase and very applicable to most of life's problems involving stupidity.

"But," persisted the student, "you seek the elixir of life, do you not?"

"No," answered the alchemist, "although in regard to it I admit that I have much curiosity.  If it is true that all things are subject to change, then one might change from old to young as well as from young to old if one could find the laws to reverse the process of life.  And as to this I do not doubt that the restorer of youth can be found.  Yet I am not interested as are those who have lived vain lives and hope to do better if life may be relived."

Ah, yes, some people seek this illusive elixir and when they cannot find it, their immaturity takes over.  The proverbial cupboards fly open, the mixing and stirring begin to create this "thing" that will give them answers.  How dumb.  I'm sorry, but really.  Why don't you just let life happen?  Quit trying to direct it here and there and everywhere.  That is not to say, "do not have a plan".  HAVE a plan, but for crying out loud, leave certain things alone.  There are spaces in our lives that must not be touched by our meddling eager hands. 

And, there are spaces we must not go, for if we do, it will ruin a good thing.  *sigh*  Yeah, I'm pretty happy right about now for the extra layer of skin I've grown since living here.  Seems like there will never be enough hurt or pain in the world until finally it just all stops.  Something happens in the universe, a star blinks for the last time and then, it's time, time for all the *bad* in the world to go away.

Yet again, someone has thrown open their cupboard in search of the "elixir" and instead of waiting for it they made up their own version...wrong mixture my friend...wrong mixture, and you just ruined a good thing.

Let's all hold on just a little longer until the time is right, ok?  No use messing up the bigger picture for your stunted version of reality.

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I fake dumb

Good lord, what an admission and I really hope my husband doesn't read this.  But, please, ladies, don't tell me you don't do this...

I know how to do a lot of things and then there are things that I just *don't want to do*.  For instance, the bbq.  It isn't rocket science, and I know I can do it, but I just can't help think that my luck would have it for my brows to be singed off, leaving me with a uni-brow-like stain and an unfortunate look about me.  Not going to risk it.  So, I feign stupidity leaving that job to D.

Pulling apart the vacuum to extract all the hair, string and shoe laces from the beater bar.  Yes, I can do it, but I don't want to.  Once again, I am almost positive it's in the book of fate that as my fingers are in there digging around, my little two year old will manage to plug it in and turn it on.  Chop-chop.  My fingers will be eaten and that "unfortunate look about me" image becomes a reality.

Using the riding lawn mower to wack down two acres worth of grass on our property.  Not going to do it.  It doesn't look like fun and who wants to drive in circles anyway?  As a kid I used to love mowing the lawn.  I enjoyed making straight lines in the grass...uhm, but, for some reason the riding lawn mower does not woo me.  And it won't ever.  My hair, and those low branches just won't mix and I won't be pulling an Absalom in my own front yard.

And I can't say that I jump at the chance to put together any type of furniture.  Those instructions are intimidating... just waiting to be wadded up and tossed clear across the room in frustration.  *sigh*  I'm starting to sound helpless, aren't I?  But loading up a poorly constructed book case is a recipe for crash-bang-boom in the middle of the night and a young couple dead in their bed from fright.

I'm sure that there is an ego-boosting factor in this for my husband.  He's just so good at all of these things.  Why mess a good thing up, right?

*Honey, please, don't read this and catch on to my sneaky "fake stupid/dumb" ways... just keep doing all those things, cuz I love it.*

Oh, and to you, who is reading this, snickering...yes, don't lie, you know you do it too.

Atmospheric Pressure

How does your house feel?  What vibes roll up and down the floors and under the area rugs?  What sounds float through the air?  Good, bad?  Lazy, hard working?  Screams of anger, laughter?  Ahh, how the *feel* of our home can affect our mind and the receptiveness to correction or instruction or anything productive, for that matter. 
Our children are used to seeing me clean.  It's sort of like, to be expected.  Cylas knows that if he makes a mess that he needs to clean it up, or he'll inform me that a mess was made and SOMEbody needs to clean it up.  How many times have I found Roma with my spray bottle and a rag in hand scrubbing at the floors and walls.  Too many.  But it's ok!  I take her hand and help her scrub.  I'll squirt the rag, hand it to her and we work together.  The *feel* in our house is busy, happy and peaceful. 
The day starts with me clinking around in the kitchen making breakfast, waiting for my babies to get up.  After breakfast, we clean up and rest for a bit.  Lately, we've been doing school with Cylas.  He loves it. 
Throughout the day we busy ourselves with little projects and lots of "us" time.  Me and the babies.  Them around my ankles as I clean up the kitchen or chop veggies for dinner.  My toes being stepped on as they try to help me make our bed or fold the laundry. 
We're a little unit.  We move around the house like a Ruumba.  It's funny. 
All this "working together", though, makes for a good, wholesome atmosphere that they will hopefully try to recreate when they are on their own.  They both have their own preferences, cleaning and general. 

Roma: her hands MUST be clean at all times, no exceptions and she must have at least two layers of clothing on ALWAYS including a puffy skirt, at times she will insist on vacuuming.  

Cylas:  He has to be wearing something Spiderman-ish(underwear, shirt, mask, sandals, watch...the list is ENDless).  His room must be clean (this desire varies and is stronger at other times), he goes through phases where he will do the dishes without being asked(this is a VERY messy undertaking), he enjoys vacuuming his room.  Oh, and he likes to prepare fresh snacks for when we run our errands: fresh fruit, cold water and possibly some Sun Chips.

To be fair, I should say that we're constantly picking up.  My house is by no means spotless.  It is clean, but a stray web can be found here and there and pockets of dust I missed.  Hah, yeaaah, I would be lying if I presented my house as being perfectly clean.  Sometimes I drive myself a little nuts with all the cleaning and picking up and I take a day off.  And since it's summer, I take a day off and sit by the pool.  We pack a picnic, grab our suits and chill.  I like those days.  And I like the atmosphere, too.

Gossip

The beauty of gossip is this:  it will either make you or break you.  Gossip, is definitely here for a reason.  Oh, the pain it causes as it rips through your soul and attacks your character.  Now, depending on where the "I know who I am" spot lies, this assault will either reassure you that you ARE who you are, or it will cause confusion. 
And I still have yet to understand WHY people want to gossip.  What good does it do?  None.  What harm does it bring?  Much.  Plus, it makes the mouth-flapper look bad in the end and wasn't the whole point of those slanderous words to make themselves look better?  Ah, yes, that sneaky little thing called KAARRRMMAaa.  Please, don't let yourself be invited over to her tea party.  You might end up with a little taste of your own medicine and MAN, sugar does NOT help it go down.  Not saying I've never gossiped...I tried it when I was younger once and didn't like it.
Since I waved goodbye to my fuzzy-haired teenage years, and said hello to my hi-I'm-the-young-looking-mom-of-two-children years...and unfortunately been the recipient of some major gossip, I've sworn it out of my life forever.  What use is it to me??  So far, all it has done is hurt, frustrated, and wound.

Now, for the beauty of gossip.  Beside all of the horrible things it has done, I've noticed something spectacular.  Through the rips in my flesh and the wounds in my character, I've seen the twinkle of life peeping out at me.   I'm still here.  I didn't curl up and die.  Thank goodness it only made me stronger.  What the gossip tried to use for evil against me only proved that I was, indeed, the opposite.  No gossiping back.  No flappy-lip syndrome.  Not going to use evil to fight evil.  Just patience...patience and the consistancy of being who I really am.

Me.

And if they don't like it...well, sorry folks, but no amount of flappy-lip will make me crumble to the level of gossipy nastiness, too.  Nope.  Nuh-uh.  So flap on, flippy-floppy-lip-lappers.  

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The test

I spoke on the qualities of the Proverbs 31 woman a couple weeks back.  Yesterday, I was confronted with a situation and I totally forgot about all of those nuggets of wisdom.  But today during my morning prayer and bible reading my lesson came floating back to the surface.  Haunting me a little.  Mentally, I took a second to rewind over yesterday's catastrophe and I grimaced.  Shucks.  I didn't pass the "perfect Proverbs woman" test, but neither did I fail completely.  So much bubbled behind my lips during the confrontation, but I didn't let it out.  There were a few jabs and snarky comments...kept at a minimum but there, nonetheless.  Being a human is so unforgiving.  We automatically defend ourselves against attacks, but not always wisely. 

As much as I wanted to call names and spit a little something held me back.  I've always held strong to this quote, "There is wisdom in discretion."  And this morning a verse popped up in my reading.

"Discretion shall preserve thee, understanding shall keep thee:"

Prov 2:11

Perfect.  Just another reminder that not all arguments are worth continuing or contributing to.  There are some battles I'm not meant to fight.  God is.  No matter what this person thinks of me, God is the ultimate definer.  My life on this earth has been witnessed by many people, they've seen me grow, struggle, learn, fail...all of it.  They have shown me love and I wouldn't be the person I am today without them. 
So, for yesterday's battle I say that it was another test to who I am in Christ.  Not perfect.  Still learning.  Clinging to His wisdom yearning after his paths.  This is worth more to me than silly, foolish words exchanged and a well placed jab at someone's expense.   Not going to lie, it felt good to get my two cents in every once-in-a-word, but was it worth it? 

No