The Wurglers

Anyone need some socks?

A couple of weeks ago I had the opportunity to take a development class in another city in our country. I flew down with some friends a little unsure because anytime you are taking a seminary level class entitled "Sexuality and Sex Counseling" you might be setting yourself up for something major. Well, the "major" I had in mind really didn't prepare me for what I was going to encounter. I didn't have a lot of expectations, but even the ones I did have were completely annihilated halfway through Day 1's material when the professor said "Everyone has been abused and everyone will be an abuser themselves." Here's what I processed and wrote on January 8, during the week I was taking the class... I have learned that, regarding abuse, no one is safe. I was a victim of different kinds, although minor compared to others' stories. I am and have been the abuser. And everyone I know has lived out both those roles as well in some capacity in ...

Its been a while since I've put one of these up, but given the Christmas season, I thought I would share this great gift idea for that "TARNSFROEMRS" lover in your life.

This past weekend I had the opportunity to travel with a group of women from our church to a foster home/orphange in another city.  I was glad for some time away and a chance to actually be out "doing" something in this country.  My wonderful husband manned the homefront all by himself for 4 days- bless his soul.  It was.... a journey.... as I learned about the orphan situation in this country and got to interact with many of the special needs children being cared for there.  I wrote this on the train ride home: One of the first things I noticed as we walked into the building was the word "SEE" written on the wall.  My own journey of late had surfaced hard questions and the thought of "seeing" the reality of true hurt and brokenness in these sick children... well, would my heart and faith take the hit?   Could I SEE? Or would my heart turn away?  Could I look into the eyes of the child whom it would never be possible for me to adopt b...

I am the type of person who keeps a to-do list.  When Aaron and I first got married, he despised seeing one of my sticky note to-do lists lying around.  Perhaps it was the quantity of sticky notes or it may have been the things that were written on the lists.  Nothing crushes spontaneity and fun like having to check something off a list.  But I feel good about checking things off.  I feel good about producing.  I feel like I'm useful when I can produce something even when all it is is taking a shower (yes, as a mother of small children, it has to go on my list every now and then).  I hop on my production treadmill and ramp up the speed.  Washed the guest room sheets, check.  Made pumpkin bread, check.  Paid the bills, check.  And then I up the speed a little more.  Updated the baby books, check.  Organized family photos, check.  The treadmill is whirring and I am sprinting.  Created new fall decorations for our h...

If you want to sleep at night DO NOT search the internet for information on bed bugs.  These nasty little buggers like to hitchhike on clothing and luggage, are experts at hiding and can infest a home quicker than... well, I won't say anymore... for your sake.  They hitchhiked right into our home a couple weeks ago? a month ago? longer? from who knows where with all of our recent travels.  It doesn't really matter because by the time we discovered that they were the source of the bites all over Emma and Evie, our house was turned upside down.  "Wit's end" does not even begin to describe where I was at as I steamed, cleaned, sprayed, washed, dried, and disinfected like a crazy woman.  I wish I could say that it was over and we are bed bug free but, although we have not seen signs of them in days I still feel uneasy and continue my "de-infesting" spree.  When things like this happen in our home, I am not okay.  I am not okay when things are not okay. ...

Wrestling... I admit, I tried it as a 3rd or 4th grader simply because all my friends were doing it. Looking back, the only explanation is that my parents either pitied me and wanted me to have friends or they were attempting to keep me out of more dangerous activities, like knife juggling (a HUGE passion of mine as an 8 year old)... or maybe they were hoping I could learn to defend myself against a ruthless older brother who rocked a mean half-nelson. Picture a 45 pound kid (most of that weight was found in my knocky knees), flat top hair cut with cat scratches (also because my friends had them - did I have ANY influence on my friends?!?!), large buck teeth and a singlet that needed to be pre-shrunk so it wouldn't fall off in the midst of battle. I lost so many matches. I remember placing 3rd in one tournament only because there were 4 kids in my age group and the 4th, if I remember correctly was either a girl who had previously lost (praise God) or the 4th threw in the white ...