Author: Andi Meade

My last post was me venting and whining, two things I do pretty well, if I do say so myself.  So, I’m assuming everyone has been breathlessly waiting to see if I recovered from my serious illness (a cold).  Whatever it is that I have, it’s been going around here like wildfire, and it’s been keeping people down for weeks.  Well, I got righteously angry about being sick again for such a long time, so I decided to go old-school Adventist on this one.  I’m certain there are only a brief number of you reading this who will understand what I mean, but here’s what I did.  I completely cut sugar out of my diet.  I drank only water and orange juice.  I doubled up on my vitamins and then I slept.  I mean, for three days I’ve been in bed.  And that stinks, because I’ve had to ask many people for help, which is embarrassing and humiliating, but I knew that, unless I wanted to be sick for weeks, this is what I had to do.  I remember being told a long time ago by a wise Adventist doctor that your body could either repair your illness or repair any strain you put on your body during the day, so unless you rest, you will draw your sickness out for a longer period of time.

So this is the end of day three, and I feel so much better!  And remember, I have the immune system the size of a pea.  I’m certain there are doubters out there, but should you feel that cold coming on, you should try this!

Now, on to more important things.  How do I break Callie Grace from the idea that to wipe her runny nose, she just picks the nearest person to her and uses their pants/shirt/jacket/scarf/etc.?  Not that it’s not hilarious and cute, in a gross, I have snot on my clothes way, but I can’t let it continue.

And, due to my self-imposed confinement to bed, the nativity scene is in utter chaos.

Before I end this, I should add that none of what I said above could have been done without a husband who is so incredibly kind and thoughtful that he would do anything to make me feel better.

I”m going to vent,  maybe even whine a little, so for those who are annoyed by either of these, I understand if you want to stop reading here.

You know how you can trick yourself for awhile, absolutely deny in your mind that something is happening, deciding at the last minute to be a disciple of the mind over matter movement?  But eventually you have to look your sad, sad self in the mirror and admit it.

I’m sick.  Again!  Now for most people this is no big deal, you rest, you give it a few days, you drink hot chocolate with marshmellows in it and catch up on the latest Lifetime movies.  But for me, it’s so much more than that for so many reasons.  It’s not like I’m deathly sick or anything, it’s most likely what’s making it’s way through Evergreen, a bad head cold turning into a chest cold.  But I have two very active babies.  I have a husband who has endured more of his wife being ill than truly should be allowed, I have friends who have too many times had to come and take care of me/the kids/the laundry etc. and I’m so tired of it all!  Even for a bad cold, it feels like the last straw!  Why, oh why do I have to have an immune system of a 70 year old?

Through this God keeps poking into my thoughts with his comforting words.  He knew this day would come, He ordained this day, and this day and the next few miserable ones will work together for my good, to make me more Christlike, which obviously I need since Christ I’m certain never vented or whined.

So for tonight, I sit here with my mountain of tissues that end up all in the bed, much to the quiet frustration of my lovely husband, I have romance novels to read sitting next to my Bonhoeffer biography I’m in the middle of ( I know, I”m a strange girl, we’re well past that).  but I do ask, please, for prayers.  And I know I have it easy, I do, I know there are people suffering beyond what my mind can imagine.  I’d be foolish to forget that, but still, pray for this sad looking, red-nosed, eye-watering, throat hurting little whiner, if you can.

As I reflect over my birthday weekend (really, it’s my birthday month, and those who know me, know I’m sorta serious about this), it was one of the best.  And by many people’s standards, it probably would have seemed boring.  Philip and I, after my Bible study, set off for Panera Bread.  But first let me tell you something crazy.  As you know, we are living, happily, on a pastor’s salary.  An associate pastor’s salary.  An associate pastor’s salary  who is still in school and has two children and wife addicted to books.  So before we set off, I persuade Philip to check the mail, as I’m certain there will be some random check in there.   And there was!  We were due back 64 dollars for something, and it showed up on Friday!  So that was the beginning.  We ate at Panera Bread.  We went to Barnes and Noble where I bought 3 books, we went to Hobby Lobby where I bought some Christmas decorations.  We stopped at Krispy Creme and got some donuts to take home.  The. Perfect. Day.

And then this evening, a group from a local college came and played at the church as we had the Lord’s Supper.  It was incredible!  I wish so much that we had a higher attendance here for those things, they are often so moving.  It was a perfect ending to my birthday.  And then (Jen, pay close attention) our head pastor casually mentions that he worked with Caedmon’s Call.  Caedmon’s Call!!!  My favorite band ever.  I was so bubbling over with excitement, I’m sure he thought I’d celebrated a little too much for my birthday, but he just kept casually mentioning them by name.  Like he knows them.  Because he does!

That’s like someone casually mentioning to me that they read Deitrich Bonhoeffer, which, by the way, also happened today in Sunday school!  I tell you, it is a season of miracles!

Before I end, let me say quickly that I am content, more than content, ecstatic about where the Lord has us.  I want for no thing.  I have no need for fancy stuff, and the fact that we got a check for 64 dollars and used that on my birthday, (using Philip’s handy calculator on his phone to keep track) made it all the more fun.  And the great thing about being content with what you have is that you can honestly rejoice in another person’s fortune and riches, with no envy.  Now that, my friends, is indeed a great birthday present.

Oh, I also got a gift card for Starbucks and Barnes and Noble.  Score!

This is a random blog post about nothing in particular, certainly nothing important, but things that have crossed my mind today.

First, I stayed in my pajamas all day today.  It was just one of those snowy, foggy Colorado days that gives you permission to stay comfortable and if possible, sit by the fire and read.  Since the last two are not possible with the two babies, I went with the first. (Also, I didn’t realize until the end of the day that not only had I worn my pj’s all day, but my shirt was on inside-out.  Awesome.)

Second, Mary is now on top of the manger, and I confessed to Philip that Callie Grace may have Catholic tendencies. For my dear Catholic friends, I mean this in no negative way, just an observation.

Third, staying at home with your children is so incredibly harder than going to work.  This could actually, and will one day be, the topic of it’s own blog post, but unless you’ve done both, you’ve no idea how hard it is.

Fourth, Callie is getting very creative and a little manipulative in trying to avoid naptime and bedtime, with comments like, “I snuggle with mommy on couch?”, and sending me on endless errands for one item or another that MUST be in her crib.

Fifth, Justus just figured out today how fun it is to throw his papish (pacifier.  Callie calls it a papish.  She might also have french tendencies) over the side of the crib and holler until mommy comes to get it, and then start giggling when I walk in his room.

Sixth, hardly anybody knows just how funny Philip is.  Last night after church, we were so tired, and Philip’s in the kitchen making dinner, while I am, as usual, reading.  I hear water running for awhile and then I hear Philip say, “Let’s be honest, this doesn’t really work, does it?”.  I look up to see him running an unopened bottle of ketchup under hot water, trying to get the cap loose.  First, I’ve never heard of doing such a thing and apparently it doesn’t work, but it was the tone of his voice that made me laugh so hard and for so long that my stomach muscles were sore today.

Seventh, because it’s almost my birthday weekend, Philip watched an entire episode of How I Met Your Mother with me.  After he made me this great dinner.  Seriously, I’m crazy spoiled by him, and our marriage is proof that the biblical idea of the man as the head of the household and the woman as submissive to him really, really rocks for the woman.  If she has the right man, of course.  (Did I just lose half my blogging audience with this one?)

Eighth, in return, and also because it’s weirdly fascinating to me, I watched an episode of The Walking Dead with him.  He has bruises on his arms and told me repeatedly that none of the main characters died in this episode.  By repeatedly I mean like 20 times.

Ninth, I’m just beginning to understand that when you have a conversation with someone who doesn’t have a biblical worldview and you do, you might as well be talking in another language to each other.

And finally tenth, I get to spend the entire afternoon and evening alone tomorrow with Philip, as Stephanie will have my babies tomorrow night, and I’ll have her precious almost 3 year old daughter Charleston Saturday night, which works out well, since Callie and Charlie call each other best friends.

I feel like Barney from HIMYM by saying this, but how awesome is my life?!?

Tonight, in our Wednesday night service with the kids, I read them a story about a man who lived 200 years ago as a slave in Jamaica.  This man had been given a small part of the New Testament by his mom, but it slowly got so worn out it wasn’t readable.  So after learning that a missionary in another city was selling entire copies of the bible, this man, probably in his 70’s, walked 200 miles in the heat and rough terrain to have his own bible.

Sometimes, when I’m in the living room and my bible is in my bedroom, I forgo my devotional altogether.  It’s maybe 20 steps away.  I’m 32.

As I’m reading the story to the kids, a feeling of self-loathing comes over me, threatening to choke me.  At times I wish so much that I was living in a time or in a land where it took real sacrifice to live a Christian life (but also magically there were no bugs and always running water).  I know what I want to do, and empathize so much with Paul that that which I don’t want to do, I do.  I despise the laziness in myself, and feel an overwhelming sense of need to make swift changes now, while it is still called today, or I will wait and keep putting it off until the kids are older, and I’ve lost those precious few moments of opportunity to really mold them by example.

Of course, it does take real sacrifice to live as a true Christian here, doesn’t it?  How does one live simply, modestly, serving others and counting it a joy to suffer for Christ in this weird environment where everything moves at the speed of light and revolves around money, influence, worldly security?  How does a person now, here, desire to read the bible so much that they would sacrifice something truly important to them for that opportunity?

And my fear is that I will be like Elizabeth Bennett’s father in Pride and Prejudice, after he’s let his youngest daughter make a fool of herself.  He basically tells Lizzie that he’s embarrassed by his actions and humiliated, but told her not to worry, those feelings would pass by the morning.

And to end things and totally change the subject, and to keep you updated on my Little People Nativity Set, I discovered that Callie is hiding M&M’s inside the manger, which has a removable top.  Surely there is a theological message in there somewhere.

I have been much occupied in the last few days on the topic of identity.  A dear friend of mine just recently married another dear friend, and we had a quick discussion through email of the difficulty of  her accepting his last name.  This was never an issue for me, in fact it never occurred to me at all, except the sense of relief because Meade is so much shorter than Stanford.  However, my friend is combing carefully through her reasons for hesitancy, and for those who know her, I suppose one good reason is that we will soon see her name in print.

I have been pondering this, and as I have decided that every issue we encounter is a spiritual issue, I went to the bible for an answer regarding my identity.  Luckily, (Philip hates when I use the word luck, but sometimes no other word seems to suffice), my memory verse for this week is “I have been crucified with Christ.  It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me.  And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.  Galatians 2:20.  (Incidentally, I go around the house repeating my memory verse over and over, and so Callie likes to practice with me.  So precious.)

Identity is a tricky thing for a woman, and I think things are only going to get worse.  I certainly thought that at the age of 32, I would know exactly who I was, and yet… and yet.  But here it is, plain as day, “It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me.”  Now, that will take a lot of time to flesh out, and I should probably ask Philip to blog on that one, but still, it does simplify things, doesn’t it?  Henri Nouwen, one of my favorite authors of all times and someone I’m certain would have been my best friend (I do like to imagine), says in his book, The Way of the Heart, “As we come to realize that it is not we who live but Christ who lives in us, that he is our true self, we can slowly let our compulsions melt away and begin to experience the freedom of the children of God.”

I’m sure I will write more on this topic later.  In fact, I think I could write an entire book on the subject.  But right now  I have to go re-arrange the Little People Nativity set again, since now it is the baby Jesus who is on top of the manger, and Mary is apparently eating straw.

You know how you have those days where you feel, well, brilliant.  You see your diploma hanging on the wall.  You’re able to answer tough questions, you feel intelligent, and that it is well worth people’s time to come and ask you for your advice.

Today was not that day for me.  I suppose it’s good to have those days to keep you humble (although if one thinks they are humble I suspect they are not humble.  And by one I mean me.)

We just watched the third installment of the PBS version of Sherlock Holmes.  I confess to not understanding an outstanding amount of it, yet loving it at the same time.  That rather screams stupidity, don’t you think?   And then, in my new and wonderful book on Bonhoeffer, I can only take in about a chapter or two at a time, and the author, bless his heart, will make statements in another language, and then forget to translate them, or assume that any fool would be able to.

I also got asked a very interesting and important question by a friend, and I had no idea how to answer it properly.  I asked Philip’s opinion, which he gave eloquently and intelligently.  I then asked him to email me word for word what he just said, which brought laughter from him, and none from me, which just so happens to occur frequently.

To add insult to injury, Callie, still in her “What’s that?” phase, asked me what an animal in one of her books was.  I could not for the life of me remember!  To which she answered, “Daddy can fix it”.  That is her standard answer for everything around here.

So I’m headed to bed, thoroughly disgusted with myself.  I expect it to pass by morning, as I am especially claiming the promise in James tonight that if anyone should lack wisdom they should ask for it.  Of course, knowing what I know of God, and knowing for certain that He has quite the sense of humor, I’m sure He’ll work the wisdom out in me in surprising, brilliant, humiliating, and awesome ways.

Today some of the women of the church met for coffee, picked up the names of our secret sisters, and set out for a day of shopping.  It all sounds innocent enough, except that my new bosom buddy (sorry Nita, it stuck) and I set out for Mardel’s and Hobby Lobby.  These are dangerous locations for me.  Sort of like a crack house.  I mean for crack addicts, not for myself, having no addiction to crack whatsoever.  Just to be clear.

Mardel’s is this marvelous, huge Christian bookstore.  As we are walking in, chatting away, I see it sitting on a shelf right in the front of the store.  My heart stopped and I might have started hyperventilating.  Bonhoeffer: Pastor, Martyr, Prophet, Spy. All 591 glorious pages of it.  However, it’s still in hardback, I’ve blown past my book allowance so fast, I’m into my allowance for 2011.  And then I see my saving grace – a lovely, red, 50 % off sticker, making the book 15 dollars!  In my defense, I did try to call Philip and run this past him, but I got no answer, and took that as a sign that it was meant to be.  The rest of my purchases need no explanation, mostly because I have no explanation, except that I saw a really cute notebook, and while I forgot to mention this in my addiction blog, I am indeed addicted to notebooks.

It should also be noted and praised that I went through Hobby Lobby without making a single purchase.  I am learning some self-discipline, it just deserts me altogether in a bookstore.

Nita, should you be reading this, I had a fantastic day, and have now placed you in the category of people who know too much about me, and it’s only going to get worse.  Or better.  However you view it.  🙂