Goodbye to NaBloPoMO

Each week I tell you about something I have done or I am doing that works for me and link it, appropriately enough, to the Works For Me Wednesday post at We Are That Family. This is not one of those posts. In fact, if you ever see a post for National Blog Posting Month (NABLOPOMO) at Works For Me Wednesday, rest assured, it will not be mine. Let me tell you why NABLOPOMO does not work for me.

Blogging each day, every day, for a month, seems simple enough and it fits some peoples' blogging style to a tee. Life happens one day at a time and for some it is useful, even cathartic to post daily. That's not how I roll. I'm a catahrsis smatharisis kind of guy. My blog is less a journal and much more a variety show. I am part Ed Sullivan, part David Letterman, part Bill Murray making up his own words to show tunes on Saturday Night Live. (Star Wars, The sequel to Star Wars, The Empire Strikes Back, They're at it again)*

Variety shows are on at most 5 days a week and generally just 1. It's exhausting to put quality infotainment out 7 days a week.

Another reason why blogging everyday cramps my style is that my blog is about my life. Attempting NaBloPoMO made my life revolve around my blog. My wife took me on a secret surprise date, the night before Valentines Day. My first reaction was, when I am going to write my post?? I put something of no consequence together and went out with my wife. Now, if your blog is your variety show, why would you ever put on a sketch that was of no consequence?

Last Saturday morning I did a number of chores around the house. When they were completed, I took a shower and started getting ready for a nice weekend with the family. The first thing I thought of was "I have 8 more posts before February is over and I only know what 3 of them are going to be!!" Showering is about getting clean, thinking of jokes, and calculating the White Sox Magic number (163), when blog panic sets in, that's not a shower, that's a wake-up call!

Finally, blogging each and every day makes me use material faster than I am comfortable with. I generally have 3-5 blog ideas in my arsenal at all times. Blogging everyday has a tendency to leave the cupboard bare. I have heard that people who lived through the great depression, had a tendency to hoard food for the rest of their life. Having suffered in the past with writers block, I tend to hoard ideas for fear of a recurrence. If I continued to blog everyday for the next few months, I'd be doing beauty tips and recipes.

For the most part I enjoyed NABLOPOMO. I ended up posting 29 times in a 28 day month. I will try it again in a few months. Maybe by that time I will find a way to make it work for me.

* Sung to the tune of Star Wars

Next Time: Useless Stats: Face Book

They May Want to Consider a Name Change

My brother is getting out of the hospital today. I could dedicate an entire blog to his medical exploits. For today's purposes lets just say that after a couple week stay in the hospital, he is going home to his family.

I have been visiting Keith about every other day while he was in the Hospital. Monday evening must be a huge hospital visiting night, because there were no parking spaces available in the entire lot. I decided to park in one of the other building lots nearby. The parking lot of the building next to Keith's was about half full, and the building had an inviting name for my intended purpose as shown above.

It wasn't until I tried to park that I saw this sign:

Now many signs like this, have a fine print that gives you hours that you can park without recourse. But not so here, just the old Violators will be towed at their own expense warning.

I finally found a place to park and went on to visit Keith. It then struck me that I was just told not to park in a half full parking lot at 8:00 p.m in twenty degree temperatures. To make matters worse the name of the building I could not park at is called The Share Building.

Now, there are a lot of points that could be made from my paradoxical tale of parking. What first comes to my mind is a lesson I began learning almost 26 years ago.

It was the summer of '83. I was a recent high school graduate. I had been asked to lead my first Campus Life meeting. I had decided to give a small talk based on Paul Little's book "How to give away your faith". I was working at Burger King at the time and was using my break to prepare my talk.

A coworker came up to me. I hardly acknowledged her, instead burying myself in my work. She was not be deterred however, and kept asking questions about what I was doing. I rather begrudgingly explained to her what I was doing. She then pointed out with a rather snide comment that I was acting like a building named Share and not allowing anyone to use my parking spaces.

She was absolutely right. I was like a beggar who had recently found an endless supply of food. Instead of telling every other beggar about the source of the food, I was hoarding the food for myself and those who would get the food from me on my terms. I hope she found that soul food she was craving for. To my shame, she never got it from me.

Next Time: Goodbye to NABLOPOMO.

Our Reverse Garfield

I would have no problem at all filling a daily blog with just crazy things my children say. And so far the youngest is the most quotable. Today, I was putting on her bathing suit on and then her clothes over them. This generally takes me two minutes because she is a very squirrely three year old. During those two minutes this conversation occurred:

Me: Let's get dressed for swimming.

Lucy: Is today Monday or Tuesday?

Me: No today's Thursday.

Lucy: Oh Man!

Me: ?

Lucy: I love Monday. Is Monday soon?

So, most people might be thinking what is so special about Monday? Monday is a good day for her; she has some classes she really enjoys at our Home School Co-op. I don't think that's why she said it. I think she has my random genes. She just says things as they occur to her. Things that would never occur to anyone. Like the next thing she said:

Lucy: Butera loves me.

Me: You mean Butera the grocery store?

Lucy: Yes, Butera loves me.

The problem is that she says so many crazy things, generally in a 2 minute period, that I can't possibly remember them all to tell Amy when she gets home. Point in fact, she said something very random indeed after the Butera comment, but now I have no idea what it was.

She just marched in the room chanting "Hello Pumpkin. Hello Pumpkin." I guess, that will have to do.

Next Time: They May Want to Consider a Name Change

Guest Post by Amy Roller - Adoption

Before Dave and I got married, we both had a heart for children, both our future ones, and other people's. I had read an article about prisoners with children, who after a certain period of time, lost the rights to their children. So I thought, hey, let's be foster parents for prisoner's kids, and keep them involved in their parent's lives until they get out, so they can keep the connection. So, we went through foster parent training, along with regular parent training (aka having kids.)

We were advised by some prison ministry workers not to follow through with our idea of helping prisoner's children maintain contact. So, we kind of let that thought go, and just went into the regular foster care system, where you get a call at any time of day or night to come pick up some kids.

Despite many challenges in our lives up to that point, foster parenting is the toughest thing on earth, it just is. Maybe not for everyone, but for Dave and me, it was the hardest thing we've ever been through. The hard parts included, but were not limited to: the amount of time to attend to each foster child's needs for parent visits, counseling visits, doctor and dentist appointments, school appointments (since you can't homeschool foster children in Illinois) etc.; the implact of the foster childrens' behavior upon our children; the significant emotional turmoil the foster children go through, and dealing with that on an almost hourly basis.

Now, God, who has adopted us, does not go through these things. Even though Ephesians 1:5 says he predestined us to be adopted as his sons through Jesus Christ, in accordance with his pleasure and will—, he does not have time constraints, love constraints, mercy constraints, or wisdom constraints. We do, and we don't. James 1:5 says, "If any of you lacks wisdom, he should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to him."

This past Saturday, we received a letter from a case worker in Pennsylvania, asking us to give an account of a sibling pair we had back in 2002, so they could have this information when they were adults. The letter broke my heart. The last we had heard from these children, they had been returned to their home and their mother and older sister. Apparently, that is no longer the case.

Dave and I both, separately, had the same inclination...get those kids back! Let them know they were missed, and loved, and can have a home here. So, we decided to pray for a month for the Lord's wisdom and guidance about this weighty matter. We took out a pile of photos we had taken of them with our family, and will send copies of those along with the paperwork.

Having three children of our own, and seeing how much they each depend upon us for love, acceptance, learning, daily needs, etc., it's heartbreaking to even think about a child who does not know the stability and love of a permanent home with their parents.

But then again, this is not our permanent home. Philippians 3:20-21 "But our citizenship is in heaven. And we eagerly await a Savior from there, the Lord Jesus Christ, who, by the power that enables him to bring everything under his control, will transform our lowly bodies so that they will be like his glorious body." Still, the Lord allows us to have earthly homes and wants us to love and teach our children. So, in Christ, we are adopted, and this is a saving adoption, a redeeming adoption, a life or death adoption. The other kind of adoption, human to human, should be no less saving, redeeming, or life affirming. The only way to do it is through the power of God. James 1:27 "Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world."

So, stay tuned to see how the Lord leads us in this matter…and pray, please pray.

Next Time: Our Reverse Garfield

A place for gloves

It had been quite the winter already. Because of gloves, it was quickly becoming the winter of my discontent. Gloves are a many splendored thing, and extremely useful in the frigid climes of northwest suburban Chicago. The problem we were having is that we could never find both gloves in a pair when it was time to leave the house. At the beginning of the winter, I went and bought replacement gloves for all our family members. But, by the end of one week, instead of having 10 pairs of gloves,we had2 or 3 pairs and 7 or 8 single gloves. I was right about to teach my kids the
answer to the Zen proverb: What is the sound of one hand freezing?, when I found something that works for me, a place for gloves.

The truth is, we had a place for gloves: in a laundry basket in our mud room/play room, where we keep the rest of our winter gear. The problem was that most of the gloves in the basket were missing partners. So, we would have to spend extra time looking for matches, or go out (gasp!) unmatched.









What I began to do is this: The next time the kids cleaned the playroom, I had them put only matched gloves in the basket. I got a cloth bag and filled it with the orphans and hung it up. As I cleaned out the car and rooms in our house I would find missing gloves. I checked to see if the gloves had a match in the orphan bag. If they did, the reunited pair went in the winter basket; if they didn't, they joined the orphans. Once a week I have the kids straighten up the playroom and put all the gloves in their right place.









Since implementing the system, the glove couples vastly outnumber Gloves without Partners. My discontent is at an all time low, and leaving the house is much less chaotic. If the Herculean winter proves mortal after all, (It's a line from a poem, I wrote, and allusions to my work had previously eluded me) I will put the matched gloves in a basket in the garage and keep the orphan bag through the warmer seasons, just in case the prodigals come wandering back into our lives. When we winterize the house next year, we will start anew with matched gloves only.









That's how I solved my glove/hate relationship with winter hand wear. To see what Works for others go to the Works for me Wednesday site at We are that Family by clicking here.

Next Time: Adoption