Mystery Solved

What the hell smells like Burger King?? - This has been the question of the month for me. Actually, for the last 5-6 months. Mostly, I ask this question while in my car.

For the first month or so, whenever at a stop light, I would look around my car for any evidence of an actual hamburger. Were there any tell-tale yellow wrappers with an orange sticker shouting, "extra pickle"? Rolled up white bags from my childrens' last happy meals? A trail of leftover barbeque sauce packets that would lead me to that criminal half-eaten Whopper, Jr? Huh-uh. Nada. So, again I ask, What the hell smells like Burger King??

It had to be Dave. What else could it be? My husband had to have farted. Okay, so I smelled that smell when Dave wasnt in the car several times, but maybe he left it there. Maybe his fart was stuck in my car seat. I saw in some movie that when you smell a fart, its actually microscopic pieces of fecal matter floating through the air into your nasal passages. Maybe Dave's fecal particles were prisoners in my seat, unable to escape due to the micofibers locking them in.

One afternoon, as the entire family was in the car, I smelled it again. There it was. Burger King. Of course, initially, I did my whiplash look around to see if, in fact, we were passing a fast-food joint. Nope. So, then, I queried my family, Does anyone smell Burger King?

Them: Huh?

Me: Dave, baby, did you fart?

Dave: No.

Atticus: Mom said fart!

Me: Seriously, who farted?

Them: Not me!

Me: Do y'all not smell that?

Them: Smell what?

Me: You know, Burger King?

Them: Huh?

My quest continued, as did the mystery smell. Until one night while putting Ellie to bed I smelled it again. There it was. Clear as day. No mistaking... Burger King. In my 8 year olds room. Except, this time, I wasnt the only one who smelled it. Ellie did too. Whew! Mom, you stink! It was me? No! But, there, I saw it. A sirloin fog emitting from under my arms. I see in my head all these green squiggly marks coming out from under your arms, like in a cartoon, Ellie noted in a very concerned voice. I smelled my pits just to verify. Yep, it was me. I smelled like Burger King.

The most interesting thing about that revelation was, in the instant I had it, I had a flashback of a critical moment of my past. When I was about 12 years old, my family was vacationing with our best friends in New Smyrna Beach, Florida. As a day trip, we went to Sea World. Sea World was great, except that we chose the hottest day of the summer to go. All 7 kids were piled into the back of my mom's Volvo station wagon (back in the day when there were no seat belt laws limiting this kind of uber-fun). Stacey, who happened to be smashed right next to me, curled her lip and asked in the most accuatory way, "What the hell smells like Burger King??" Then she looked right at me and declared, "You have BO. You reek!" My day at Sea World was ruined. All I smelled all day long was my BO. And it did, in fact, smell just like Burger King. Puberty had hit and it hit with a beefy stench and I was mortified.

So, why in the world, at age 36, I am now again smelling like a BK Broiler? After all these years of body odor, why is it suddenly changing back to my pubescent scent? Are my hormones changing? Are my chemicals unbalanced? Is this menapause?? Why the hell do I smell like Burger King??

As I was lamenting these questions the other night at dinner with some friends, one of the dinner guests noted that she, also, had experienced her own recent rankness. However, hers was at the hands of a deoderant. Tom's Lavendar Deoderant, that is. The same exact kind I have been using for the past 6 months! Praise the Lord! I'm saved! The mystery has been solved! Its not me! I dont smell like rancid ground beef! At least, not without help! Several other women at the table concurred. Tom's Lavendar Deoderant actually left you smelling much worse. Like rotten lavendar. I cant tell you how relieved I am.

I have stopped using my healthy, aluminum-free, non-cancer causing deoderant. I am back on my aluminum saturated, pore-blocking, toxic building, cancer-causing antiperspirant and loving it. I am burger-free.

I guess the new mystery is, why, after all this, do I still crave Whopper, Jrs. with extra pickle?

Sell-out or Worn-out?

As we are now in limbo, living with friends back in our home town of Franklin, TN, I walk around doing the slow-Southern-daily-life-thing with great existential questions running around in my brain at warp speed. What are we doing with our lives? What do we want to do? Is it really about what we want? What is God calling us to? Is there really such a thing as a unique call or do we all just get the general call to love God and each other during whatever journey we are handed?

I kind of thought we made a decision to trust our minimal understanding of these questions and head back home.  We loved life in the city: the grit, the culture, the cleaning out of some cob-webbed parts of our brains where Southern culture allowed us to collect dust. We lived where we were needed. Why should all the people with resources-financial, social, systemic, and otherwise- congregate in the cozy neighborhoods while those without voices are crammed into the dirty spaces left in between? 

One of our reasons for going into the city was pictured in a metaphor that many urban missionaries are drawn in by: if there was a tree fallen in the road and 9 people were carrying one side and only 1 on the other, which side would you go to? That made sense to us. We wanted to help on the side that needed it. The city-side. Lets face it, it is easier to love your neighbors if they dont really need anything from you. So, we chose the city and could barely imagine ourselves ever wanting to return to our quaint Americana village of Franklin, where all those helper-outers were. 

But, after much emotional angst and equally emotional prayer, we decided that after 5 years in Philly, we would move home. Im not sure if it was our desire to live out the next season of life close to my family overshadowed our desire to be a conduit of change in the world that led us to our decision. (I hope not) But, I think it was a mixture of many things that when parsed out seems to not make that much sense. Is is about not wanting to raise my kids in the city, filled with danger and the unknown? (Philly is one of the leading cities in numbers of murders, but also has a phenomenally diverse population with rich history and culture.) Is it because life in the ministry was stressful and I wasnt sure if my not sleeping well had to do with that, living in the city or just my age? (I am getting older and I think my mom doesnt sleep well either).  I dont have a great reason, but I think I decided that it was okay that I didnt have a perfectly wrapped answer. It just felt like time to come home. Right or wrong. Good or bad. Sell-out or just plain worn-out. 

Dave reminded me often (in my most angsty moments) that at the end of the day, God was still in control. His world was not going to fall apart if we made the wrong choice. His will for our lives wasnt going to be thwarted by our moving. God is still God, whether in Philly or Franklin. (Those are the moments when I most clearly remember why I married Dave.) Although it sounds awfully oedipal, Dave reminds me of my dad. Just a few weeks ago, when the buyers of our house found out that their mortgage fell through for the second time, Dad told me to not bother Jesus by praying about it. "He's asleep at the back of the boat. Its all under control. If he's not worried about it, neither should you." Not exactly the most solid theology ever preached (I mean, whoever heard of someone preachin' that you shouldn't pray), but its faith-filled simplicity comforted me. Yeah, if Jesus isnt worried, why should I? 

My goal of writing this post was to maybe help myself out of my current angst ridden brain and back into sanity. My questions are still not answered really, but my heart is calmed. Where will we live? Where will we work? What should we invest our time in? Who should we reconnect with? Can we change the world from here? What if we end up just caring about soccer season and making fruit tea for Cousin Mae's baby shower? Shhhh. Details. Details. Jesus is napping. 

You Know You are in Trouble When...

          

I am envious of the girl in the BEFORE picture. 

My Dude

Atticus still is nothing but pure delight stuffed in a 3 year old body. Today, after pooping (sorry to be so graphic...not really) he says to me, "Mama, that is giant." Looking down at his creation, I nodded in agreement, "Yes, Atty, yes it is." He then looks at me with all seriousness and proclaims, "It will kill you." 

He kills me!

The Graduate

On May 22, 2008 Dave graduated from Westminster Theological Seminary with a Masters of Arts in Religion.  It took five years, but he did it while being a dad of two and working full-time in ministry at liberti church. I'm really proud of him. The amount of reading and intellectual rigor required to succeed in his program of study was tremendous. I have to say that I have a new respect for Dave's ability to apply himself, his discipline to study and his patience to actually learn the material. I was always the kind of student that learned quickly and spit out enough of the information correctly in order to get by. I never once asked myself, "Do I really get this?" I feel like watching Dave has led me to a new definition of Intellectual. He isnt going to toot his own horn or use heady words (actually, his vocabulary astounds me!). I mean, he isnt a saint...he tries to get his self worth in other ways, but for someone who personally tries to get props from being quick and witty, I am often humbled by Dave's understanding of things way beyond my grasp. 

One of Dave's favorite authors, Abraham Kuyper, writes, "There is not a square inch in the whole domain of our human existence over which Christ who is Sovereign over all, does not cry, "Mine!".  I'm convinced that Christ has claimed Dave's degree as his own. Where ever we land vocationally, God has used this time at seminary to fulfill many purposes already. I see another side of Dave that I would never have seen had we not come to Philly. Even though that is enough for me, I know that God will continue to use Dave's gifts to serve others and to image the One who created him. Congratulations Dave!

Creative Rage

Ellie (after losing a few priviledges due to some disobedience): I hate my family! I hate the world! I want to put up my middle finger at the whole world!

Pretty creative, right? I mean, I figure I should just go ahead and find the positive in her tantrums. Please dont be disturbed, it only makes sense that my little extremist would only rant in extreme ways! :) So, I'm kind of impressed with her level of verbal accuracy that describes the norm for most human experience...rage to the point of flipping the bird at the whole world. It makes sense, really.

Model Portfolio: Benjamin Atticus

Happy Mothers Day

Being the mother to these absolutely beautiful children is the biggest blessing and challenge of my life. 

Atticus, my little friend, brings me such uncomplicated joy. I am nothing but delighted by this intent, happy, curious, destructive, active, talented, monkey-like child. While Atticus is around, there will always be someone who makes me laugh. My heart is at peace knowing he is my son.

Ellie, my soul, is as equally horrifying and as she is awe-inspiring. She reflects the best and worst of me. She will always be my mirror. I am amazed by her depth and her intelligence. Her insight into others and the world is far beyond her years. Her thoughtfulness is overwhelming. While Ellie is around, there will always be someone who sharpens me and seeks to care for me. My heart is proud that she is my daughter.

This Mothers Day has been a special one. Not because it was fun or I received great presents, but because I reflected on the blessings that have been heaped on my head by God. "Mothers Day" could possibly end up being just a set up for a huge disappointment. Seriously, moms dont just need a day off. What kind of rest, gift or brunch really celebrates the sacrifices mothers make for their children? How do you honor someone who feels constant guilt for not loving you better? 

The standards that have been set by society are impossible for moms to meet, yet everyday we toil to care for the hearts of our children, protect them from harm, keep a house like Martha Stewart, cook like Rachel Ray, perform at the A level in our work...yet if we work, we have compromised our roles as primary care givers and if we stay at home full-time, we are laughably out of touch with culture and marketplace. We think that we have been liberated by the feminist movement because we are now included in world of work. But, what have we really been liberated to? Feeling guilt for our failure to be perfect in two arenas now. 

So whats the answer? Not to go back to the '50's, that's for sure! No, its again, the Gospel. Our guilt can only be eased by knowing that God has paid the penalty for our failures as mothers. He, in his overwhelming love for our kids, can even use the pain we have caused to draw our children to himself. He has gifted us to take part in the redemption of the world. It is not our responsibility to save our children, nor the world, but the gift to participate in his redemption of it. It is an honor to use our gifts to serve, sacrifice and die for our children and for the world. Today, I celebrate the blessing of serving, even though I fail miserably at it. 

Sweet Sisters Bakeshop

My sister in law, Laurie just opened a bakery in Blue Bell.  I spent the afternoon there yesterday, taking photos for the website that Dave will be designing for them. The treats that her and her sisters were churning out were amazingly decadent. Atticus was so hopped up on sugar when we left that my attempt to go shopping at Home Goods afterward was not only futile, but completely dumb. He crashed into a sugar coma on the drive home with a ring of chocolate and Dorito crumbs lining his face. What a happy day for him! Everyone needs an aunt with a bake shop!

Little Miss Miss

Ellie: What are you reading?

Mama: Parenting with Love and Logic.

Ellie: (snort!) Just 'cause I lied to you?! 

(see the steam rising off my head...)