The Day I Didn\'t Get Baptized at Church Because My Legs Weren\'t Shaved

p_shaving_101_p03A couple weeks ago, we found out that it was Baptism Sunday at our new church. Now it’s not like baptisms at a Catholic church, mind you. You know the baptisms where the priest puts a few drops of holy water on a baby’s forehead while the parents and godparents look on lovingly?

That’s not how baptisms work in a Pentecostal church. We’re talking water trough of water, and you get in the tub with your Pastor and someone else, they say a prayer for you, and then you get dunked underwater.

At the first service, five people made the choice to be baptized. We went to the second service, where we were told that anyone who wanted to choose to be baptized that day could go change into a t-shirt and shorts.

I had watched every single one of the TWENTY people in the second service go through and get baptized, giving their lives to Christ. I kept thinking I should go up and do it as well, but what was holding me back?

Thinking about how I hadn’t shaved my legs in almost 3 weeks because it’s fall. Also because I’m lazy and hit the snooze button too many times in the morning and don’t give myself enough time to get ready for work.

Long scary leg hair. First world problem, indeed.

Oops, I Did It Again!

We started going to church again. Being the genius that I am, it only took me like SEVEN YEARS to realize that if we wanted to find a church that was like our old one, I needed to just get the heck out of my comfort zone and find one. It seemed like every day since my Grandma’s funeral, there was something– some sign– each and every day– that told me we needed God again in our lives.

First there was the yellow rose, the missing necklace that mysteriously made its way back into my life, but then there were even more signs. How about the fact that every single day on my Facebook page, sometimes several times a day, Facebook was reminding me how many people I knew had “liked” or were “checking in” at this one particular church? How about the fact that one of my Facebook friends was recently named Youth Pastor at a church in our area? How about the fact that I randomly opened the mailbox the other day to find an anonymous envelope (addressed by hand with a handwritten note) asking if I needed Jesus back in my life?

What the WHAT? Yes, that really happened. Granted, it was from a PO Box registered to Jehovah’s Witnesses but still– randome piece of mail??

And what about the card I found as I was getting out of bed a few weeks ago? I have absolutely NO IDEA where this came from, or how it got into my room.


Does anyone have an explanation for all of these things happening?

So off to church we went. AGAIN. Getting my family up out of bed on a Sunday morning five weeks ago to try yet another church that I drug them to, on a whim that this one might be the one. Maybe this time I will like the church and want to keep going back.

Now don’t get me wrong– we’ve been to some great churches in the last several years. Met some great people, enjoyed the Pastors and the music and the atmosphere. But something was still missing all this time and I really couldn’t quite figure out why I wasn’t content.

Imagine my excitement when I walked into a new church a few weeks ago, and fell in love. Like head over heels, wanna hold your hand, writing your name on my notebook, LOVE.

We’ve now been to this church four times.  The Pastor and his wife have taken us out to lunch one Sunday after church, I’ve been invited to a Women’s group at the church where we are studying a great book (more on that later), and we’ve made friends.   We don’t mind getting out of bed early on Sunday mornings, and we don’t mind spending 90 minutes of our weekend in church.


{Book Review} Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn

Gone Girl: A NovelGone Girl: A Novel by Gillian Flynn

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

I’ve been trying to think of just exactly what I think about this book. I’ve been seeing the previews for the movie on TV for weeks now, and I knew I wanted to read the book before the movie came out. I think we can all agree that the books are almost ALWAYS better than their movie version.

This is why I was anxious to read ‘Gone Girl.’ I had a conversation with some co-workers about this book, and it seemed to be a ‘love it or hate it’ kinda story. I started reading a few days ago, and I can best sum it up in two sentences.

I loved it. And I hated it.

This was another book that followed the pattern of alternating chapters between two narrators. One chapter would be the husband, Nick Dunn. The next would be his wife, Amy. Nick & Amy Dunn are a young married couple, and they have moved from New York to Missouri so that Nick can be closer to his family. They aren’t happy in New York and they certainly aren’t happy after moving to Missouri.

Nick comes home on their 5th wedding anniversary to find his wife missing, the house in disarray and no clues as to where she would have gone.

The book floats from chapter to chapter, leaving me guessing as to what really happened to Amy every time I turn the page? Was it him? Was it someone else? Was it a friend, a lover, a parent? Where did Amy disappear to?

The story was mesmerizing, in a very dark way. It was suspenseful and it drove me crazy to not have it all figured out right away. I loved the story line, but oh my gosh– how I hated Amy Dunn. And her husband was right up on my list of people I’d like to punch in the face. The story painted a picture of someone with a very dark personality disorder, and it was amazing to read about the scheming, the planning, the sheer ambition it took to pull off the disappearance of Amy Dunn.

I’ll stop there. You’ll have to read for yourself.

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Not to Be Outdone

Sometimes there are things that happen in life that you cannot explain. A little moment of something that leaves you questioning “how in the world did that just happen?” I already mentioned the other day that sign that my grandma showed us on the day of her funeral, that one small yellow rose in full bloom, sent her message loud and clear.

Not to be outdone, my grandpa decided to send me a little something as well.

Several years ago, my husband bought me a necklace. A beautiful diamond necklace on a thin, wispy silver chain. I didn’t wear it all the time, because it was black and silver and it didn’t match everything I wore. I remember one day a couple years ago, I was cleaning the house and had been going up and down the stairs dusting, carrying laundry, etc. The necklace was itching my neck, so I decided to take it off. While the best decision would have been to take it off and put it away in my jewelry box, I instead decided to take the easy way out and set it on top of a cabinet we have in the family room.

Thinking I would remember to grab it later, I set it down and walked away from it. When I thought about it a few days later it was gone. I looked on the floor around the cabinet and also looked in my jewelry box, thinking maybe *hopefully* someone else had put it away for me. After searching over the next couple days, I felt so bad that I couldn’t find it. My worry was that it had slid off the cabinet, and one of the dogs swallowed it. Not wanting to look through any residual piles in the backyard, (because ewwww), I just hoped that someday that necklace would turn up.

I didn’t tell my husband for a very long time that it was lost. I felt so bad that he had picked this necklace out, and then I was an idiot and lost it somewhere. He’d bring it up every so often, mentioning that I never wear it, and I always had an excuse– it didn’t match what I was wearing, it itched my neck, etc, etc.

It was only recently in the last few months that I finally fessed up and told him I lost it. I would still look through the piles in my jewelry box every so often, hoping that it would turn up somewhere. I’ve moved furniture around in the family room, hoping that I would discover it had fallen behind something, but still nothing.

The glass curio cabinet in my living room.

The glass curio cabinet in my living room.

Now this is when the unexplained happened. In my living room, I have a glass curio cabinet that holds a lot of things with sentimental value. When I got home from my grandma’s funeral a few weeks ago, I put some things in this cabinet– a picture of her, a copy of her obituary, the prayer card from the funeral home, and a few yellow flowers from the arrangement on her casket.

I had been trying to dry those flowers out so that I could keep them, and had been showing my youngest daughter how to do that. A few days ago, her and I walked over the that cabinet and I was showing her the yellow flowers that were pretty close to being completed dry.

The flowers drying on the shelf

The flowers drying on the shelf

Two shelves down in the cabinet is a small wooden box. It is a box that my grandpa used to keep on his dresser in his bedroom. He passed away in 2001, and I use that box to keep several things to remember him– a few flowers from his casket, a couple shells from the military honors at the cemetery, a prayer card, and a few other small things.

The little wooden box that belonged to my Grandpa.

The little wooden box that belonged to my Grandpa.

I opened that box to show my daughter what the flowers would look like completed dried out and to show how long they would last if you were very careful with them, and what did I find when I opened that box?

Inside the wooden box, filled with mementos of my grandfather.

Inside the wooden box, filled with mementos of my grandfather.

My necklace. Down in the bottom of that box.

Now this is one of things I had no explanation for. My husband and daughter were standing right by me, as I stood shocked — with my jaw practically to the floor. I could not figure out any reasonable explanation for how that necklace ended up in that box– in a cabinet. On a different floor of my house. Years later.

What’s strange is that I’ve looked through that box before, most recently in the last couple months. Sometimes when I’m dusting that cabinet, I will look through that pretty wooden box just to go back in the past for a few minutes and remember my grandpa.

I don’t know how that necklace ended up where I found it, and the only sense I can make of it is that a certain someone up there wanted to make sure I knew he was still around, too. Smile

{Book Review} On The Island:A Novel by Tracey Garvis Graves

On the Island (On the Island, #1)On the Island by Tracey Garvis-Graves

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

This book was recommended to me by a co-worker, who said that she recently read it in her Book Club. They chose the book because it is written by an Iowa author.

Because I’ve always enjoyed every book she’s recommended to me, I went ahead and purchased the Kindle version and started reading.

On the Island is a quick read, and one that I read almost in one setting. I got sucked into it pretty quickly– within the first couple pages as I learned about Anna and TJ, two people that were stranded on an island together as the result of a plane crash.

The one thing that you might not expect is that TJ is a high school student, recently in remission from cancer. Anna is a 30 year old high school teacher. She is also his tutor, who has been hired by his family to spend the summer with TJ. Anna is supposed to be helping TJ get caught up after missing so much school.

Anna, TJ and his family are supposed to be spending the summer in the Maldives, but TJ’s family has left a few days prior. TJ and Anna were flying out later, because TJ had insisted that he stay behind a little longer to go to a party with his friends.

The seaplane they take to get to where the family is staying crashes when the pilot has a heart attack. Anna & TJ are stuck on an island, with no idea of when (or IF) someone will find them.

That’s where I will end with the storyline, because I don’t want to reveal any spoilers.

I enjoyed reading this because it was told from both Anna’s and TJ’s point of view. The author did a fantastic job of describing the island, their adventures, and the changing relationship between the two characters, despite their age difference.

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