2008 in Review Mindy-style

Things that Have Made Me Laugh or Cry or Something in Between in 2008...

• Watching my youngest son conquer his separation issues and earn a turtle named Sisco in the process
• Realizing that aforementioned turtle is really nothing more than ornamental
• The addiction known as FB
• All the friends I've reconnected with because of said addiction
• Michael Phelps (need I say more?)
• Being at the Tech-UT game (really, need I say more?)
• Redoing my laundry room...it's Tiffany blue and very girly, and every girly-girl needs a lair
• Rediscovering my love of writing
• Having so many people in my life that I truly admire...Mark, Adam, Lisa, Donnie...just to name a few, but I could so go on...
• Hanging Christmas lights on our back porch year round so it feels like a beer garden
• Twilight...the books and the movie (I don't care what the critics say...any chance I get to be 15 again and swoon over a fictional teenage vampire, I relish)
• Having a best friend who I can talk on the phone with anytime, anyday regardless of anything!
• Shea Butter Cashmere lotion from Bath and Body Works
• My friends...I have the most amazing friends. If I didn't already believe in God's mercy and grace, the friends I call my own would prove it
• Hearing my oldest son say I am the best woman he's ever known
• Watching my hubby salivate over his new T.V.
• Realizing God has something new for me to learn everyday, and He always will
• Taking in a certain midnight premiere with an old but dear friend
• Hearing my son play his guitar
• Getting a Dyson (sounds pathetic, but it's true)
• Discovering chiropractic care (this cynic is now a believer)
• Watching my oldest nephew play his Senior Year of football under his coach/father
• Becoming obsessed with Pei Wei's Japanese Teriakyi Bowl with beef...it's really all I need to turn my frown upside down
• Having sisters who are really friends with whom I happen to share DNA
• Finally and most importantly...serving a God who (in the words of Justin Unger) "is still the One who tells me I'm gonna make it and keeps my heart hanging on." He's really all I need...

Happy New Year, and here's to the one to come!

A Hero's Welcome

We took the boys the the airport last weekend to welcome home a young soldier who had been deployed to Iraq two times for a total of two years away from home. We don't know him personally, but his mom lives next door to good friends of ours and she was trying to get a big group to come out to give her son a well deserved "hero's welcome home." It was a touching moment and I was honored to be there.

I realized as I stood there watching this young man embrace his mom and his girlfriend, that there's more to a hero's welcome than just fanfare or bells and whistles. It's really more about recognizing someone who has essentially denied themselves for the sake of others. It's about showing these heroes in our lives, "I know you and I see what you've done; I get what you've sacrificed and I am here to thank you for it."

A true hero's welcome could look like lots of things...a crowd waving American flags with banners and yellow ribbons. Two little boys with arms wide open ready to embrace their daddy the moment he steps foot in the door. Twenty students uninhibitedly cheering to see their beloved teacher back in the classroom after an absence.

And perhaps one of the most poignant hero's welcome of all time happened in, of all places, a dirty hay filled stable, with the smell of the animals that dwell there thick in the air. Shepherds, down on their knees in awe after having heard the angels proclaim radically Good News. Magi from far away with theirs eyes on a star, road weary but delighted to deliver their gifts. A young couple relieved just to have a place to deliver their newborn, even if it's the last place they'd chose if it were up to them...

The scene offers no fan fare or glitz. Definitely nothing special. Definitely nothing fit for a baby King. But a hero's welcome all the same. Because the hearts of those in attendance that night were completely and uninhibitedly oriented toward this Promised One. They recognized Who was in their midst and they dropped everything just to be near Him.

I pray my heart will be oriented to Jesus this season too, despite all the distractions and stresses. That I will drop everything that seems so important, just so I can draw near to Him.

Happy Birthday Jesus, my Hero and King, I welcome you into my life everyday; every moment...

I Am It!?!

My oldest son got into bed with me this morning and nestled into the nook of my arm, letting out a big contented sigh. Oh those precious moments of being a mom. But this precious moment also hit me like a load of bricks.

Every once in awhile when I least expect it, something happens in the course of my day and it dawns on me that, "O my gosh I am the parent!" I realize in full living color, if you will, that I am it for this kid and his brother...that I (along with my hubby of course) am these children's source of protection, security, provision, comfort, wisdom...you name it, they look to me for it. And while I sort of knew what I was signing up when I became a parent, the scope of the role is a bit staggering to consider.

In so many ways, I still see myself as the fresh faced 20 year old girl of days past. And I wonder to myself, when did i become mature enough to be anybody's "it????"

Oh, I don't know...Perhaps it was when my smile lines became full fledged crow's feet? Maybe it was when I developed a predilection for mini vans and their many awesome features? Or was it when I began requiring a 10 o'clock bedtime in order to NOT be be total toast the next day?

Regardless of when this maturity hit, I am a parent and I am Luke and Blake's "it." I love the job, though I fear it too. But the good news is, I have an "It" in my Heavenly Father; I'm not flying blind and I'm not alone. And I know He likes it too, when I settle into his arms, and find my place there and sigh contentedly.

I Heart Luke Skywalker

I am obsessed with a band called Secondhand Serenade, and particularly their song "Awake" (which is now the ring tone I hear when my hubby calls me). I was trying to figure out what's behind my obsession...what is it that makes me love this song so much, or any song that becomes my flavor of the week (or month, b/c I'm not that fickle)?

After some thought, I realized I love it because it strikes a chord deep in this hopeless romantic, and it brings out a certain "swoon factor" in me. Most secular songs I love do the very same thing for me.

In college the swoon factor was released by Hootie's "Hold My Hand"; Depeche Mode's "Somebody" did it for me in High School (with it's percussion-esque heart beat at the beginning of the song); and "Hold on to the Nights" by Richard Marx was all it took in Jr. High (although I probably could have benefited from therapy after I attended his concert and saw women throwing their bras at him---still makes me want to rock in the fetal position in a corner).

I can even remember swooning back in elementary. I'd borrow my big sister's Boom Box---complete with it's own shoulder strap for convenient carrying---to play Air Supply's, "I'm All Out Love." I would pop in the 8 track (loved the sound of it "clicking" into it's slot), listen to it, stop it, push rewind and listen again over and over; all the while picturing Luke Skywalker singing it to to me; this is the truth.

I didn't even like boys at the time...they still had cooties or whatever...but I was infatuated with Luke; completely gone over him. Maybe it was his light saber skills, or perhaps the way he rocked his battle poncho, or maybe it was because in all his Jedi-ness he still had a very tender heart...who knows, but he had me at hello.

Of course nowadays, I'm all out of love for Luke Skywalker. But when I watch Star Wars with my sons today, I always hear Air Supply in my head when Mark Hamill is in the scene and I probably always will. I might even still swoon just a little, and possibly secretly cheer when Luke realizes Leah is his sister...

Crumpled Blue Paper

My youngest son is in preK at Murfee and during PE yesterday he earned a little blue coupon that entitled him to a piece of candy. Because this coupon so exited him I could barely interpret the chattering, jabbering and possibly even clicking :) he used to explain why he earned this coupon. I think his team won a race or contest???

Anyway, I told him we would redeem his coupon after school today. I didn't hear anything else about it from him, which is strange b/c the passage of time and delayed gratification are hard concepts for a four year old.

Then this morning, he comes out of his room first thing with rosy cheeks, messed up hair and bleary eyes, with non other than that little blue coupon in his hand. The coupon is crumpled and wadded up, having presumably been tightly held the entire night as he slumbered.

That is my little Blake in a nutshell. He holds onto life tenaciously and doesn't let go until, in his estimation, he's lived something fully. He is sensitive, passionate, fiery, yet tender as can be, and I realize every day how much I could learn from him.

I'm too busy moving onto the next thing, or worrying about something from the past, to notice those little blue coupons in life that come our way everyday. If only I could treasure the moments God has graced me with, with the same fervor that was required of Blake to keep up with a crumpled piece of paper during a whole night of sleep...

My "relisher of life and walking carpe diem" turns 5 tomorrow. As I write this, I thank God for this little guy and how he challenges me and loves me with such reckless abandon... Happy Birthday my sweet Blake and may you never lose that excitement over little blue coupons.

why, why, why?!?

We listened to Christmas tunes at work today. It was quite enjoyable and I'm sure the patients coming out of anesthesia appreciated waking up to such a pleasant sound.

All of them, EXCEPT the ones who happened to be there for a song from a holiday mix by "Oops I Did it Again" herself. Mind you, I don't mind Britney...her music is always good for working out or dancing. I even had a heart for the poor girl during her downward spiral when she got a hold of some clippers and pulled her "Kojack" moment.

But why, oh why must she sing a Christmas carol using her signature nasal/guttural voice that almost sounds like a synthesized robot??? Does she not know that this sound is NOT appropriate for all types of music? Please tell me she doesn't use it to sing Jaden and Sean Preston to sleep at nap time?

Christmas carols are supposed to be light and airy, I don't know...joyful even. They are not to be sung in a manner that brings to mind mental pictures of large yellow snakes wrapped around one's neck, or tight leather midriff baring jumpsuits.

Please Britney, get a clue, and if you can't, at least give us a silent night...

Hair

I came across this picture of me from 1989. Obviously the first thing one notices when looking at this photo is...how cute my clothes are. Or maybe it's my hair? Can't really be sure!

I remember that hair and I remember it well. Each morning the process I went through to achieve such heights could be likened to Michelangelo and the Sistine Chapel. It was a detailed regimen that left my arms weak and tingly every morning. But oh what a result! My hair was tall. My hair was immovable. My hair framed my face like some kind of wreath.

The results I achieved were worth the early alarm clock (Rome wasn't built in a day and my hair wasn't coiffed in ten minutes); it was worth the hole my hair spray cans single handedly put in the ozone. It was worth the subsequent damage my hair sustained (and I believe still suffers from.)

This hair that many of us wore in all it's glory during the 80's and early 90's, had it's place in time. But, hopefully it won't ever make a come back. I don't think I have the fortitude or arm strength to manage it at 35. Plus, I know my particular style required a perm. Does Ogilivie even exist anymore?

Choosing Your Battles

Last nite in small group, during our parenting study we are doing, one girl brought up the idea of "choosing your battles" with your children. She quoted someone who said, "When you choose your battle, be sure it's one you can win."

I love that quote and it gave me chills...not unusual, quotes often give me chills...I adore profoundness!

Anyway, I like the idea of choosing my battles. If I don't, what results (in my mind anyway) is 24-7 harping on and badgering of my kids. This results in (again...in my mind anyway) me becoming Charlie Brown's parents to them. "Mwa, mwa, mwa, mwa, mwa-mwa...." If I am always "on" my kids do they really ever hear me, or does what comes out of my mouth go in one ear and out the other? Does my voice become tune-out-able, or like static in the background, or worse yet, something they can't really understand???

I want to be a wise chooser of my battles. I want to know what to hone in on with my boys and what to let go. What to be decisive about...you absolutely may not give up brushing your teeth b/c toothpaste is "spicy"; and what to give some leeway on...yes, you can wear that even though it doesn't match and is three inches too short for you. (ouch, that one hurts!)

It's a Practice

Sometimes I think parenting should be called a "practice," much like we say Dr. so and so practices medicine. "Mindy Porter has been practicing parenting for 7 years now..."

Parenting is the hardest thing I've ever done, while being the single most precious and important thing I've ever done. But so many times as I "practice it" I am faced with my own junk and issues...they stare me right in the face, often in two sets of eyes, one set big and chocolate, another set an unusual shade of light green.

Case in point...last nite we took my kids to a bday party: in a garage, streamers, disco ball, upbeat music...all channeling Hanna Montana. The space was full of crazy 6 and 7 years olds unabashedly wiggling and thrashing their bodies to the beat; having the time of their lives.

My introspective, sensitive, cerebral, kind hearted little boy plops down in a chair and becomes the spectator; so overwhelmed by it all there were even tears in his big eyes. Keep in mind, all the dancing machines in front of him are his 1st grade classmates---very familiar; sees them everyday. In other words, shouldn't be too intimidating.

So I proceed to take him in the house and "talk" to him, which amounted to more of a "I am so frustrated with you I could spit, why won't you just have fun, stop embarrassing yourself PLEEEEEZE!!!!" kind of rant.

Nice moves, Mindy. Way to shame your 7 year old for being EXACTLY like you were at his age!!!!

Long story short, I took a deep breath, remembered how my Father deals with me, and I simmered down. We managed to process through it and he got out on that dance floor like a young Kevin Bacon and cut the proverbial rug.

But the point is, my instinct as a parent was all wrong, completely non-grace based, and altogether a big foul up. I think I saw myself in him and deeply longed that he---who takes after me in so many ways---would not make the same mistakes I did. Not miss out on so much because of the shyness and overwhelming self awareness. Not make things harder than they have to be. I could go on.

In closing, as I practice parenting, I try to learn from my mistakes. My mistakes are all different, but originate from one common misstep... I am too busy trying to conform my sons into the image of who I think they should be, to recognize who God made them to be. Maybe if I could just work with how God wired them---individually and gloriously unique---I wouldn't find myself in so many aforementioned rants!?!

Yikes, I've got a lot of practicing to do!

To car flag or not to car flag...

I am in love with Texas Tech football this year! This has been the best season to be a fan by far...and no, I am not a fair weather fan. I have been watching the red raiders since I was five; sitting in the section that used to be known as the "grass seats" with my older siblings. I could digress about said grass seats...how they made your bottom feel wet; how there was always a set of crazy boys that would start at the top and log roll down the hill, knocking everyone sitting below them down like bowling pins...but I won't.

Anyway, my love has prompted me to place a Red Raider car flag in my window. As I zip down Indiana Avenue with my flag proudly flapping in the Lubbock wind, I find myself wondering if I should be embarrassed... Do I look special needs? Do I look like a fanatic? Do I look like a car that holds some kind of diplomat from an Arab nation? Or worse yet, do I look like a senior citizen???

The last question may be the most likely scenario. I have a Buick Rendezvous. It is a sweet ride that I adore. I wanted one back when Tiger did the commercials for them. But what I have discovered since I became a Rendezvous-er is that every other Rendezvous-er is 65 or older. IF you don't believe me just keep your eyes peeled. The seniors LOVE these vehicles. Possibly even more than me. And if you live in Lubbock or maybe just West Texas, you will many a car flag on many a Rendezvous.

So the question for me is: to car flag or not to car flag?

The New Bachelor

I haven't watched a ton of TV lately, so today when I saw a preview for January's The Bachelor I almost cried (literally...there might have even been tears welling in my eyes that didn't make it down my cheeks). Anyway, the next Bachelor is none other than the single dad Jason, that Deanna so erroneously let go in the finale of the last Bachelorette.

He is decent, stable, honest, dependable. Hmmm....no wonder he didn't get picked. That would've made way too much sense.

But this season it will be his chance to find the love of his life. In the preview he even says one of the 25 women he is about to meet will be his wife...that makes it true doesn't it???

I am only slightly cynical about the Bachelor/Bachelorette franchise. One out of what...twelve relationships have made it (go Trista, Ryan and baby makes three). But surely since they keep cranking out new seasons, each with the most dramatic rose ceremonies to date, the premise must have some kind of fortitude to it!?!

We shall see. Till then I will keep getting teary eyed every time I see a promo with Jason and little Ty hoisted on his dad's shoulders....

all things teen

I love all things teen and yes, I am 35 years old as of a few days ago. I wish I could say my interest in it was for the cause of being a "connected" youth leader, or a "with it" high school teacher or maybe even a cool pedi nurse. But I can't claim any of the above b/c none of them apply. I love all things teen and I have no excuse for it... it is what it is and I just need to come clean.

Case in point...
Two of my all time favorite book (series) are Twilight and Maximum Ride...both written expressly for YA.

I enjoy Gossip Girl. There, I said it.

I love the North Face fleece every cute teen girl has and I adore "Sperry's" (which in my day were called deck or boat shoes).

Chace Crawford and Robert Pattinson make me long for the days when I was thirteen and could crank out super cool celebrity collages of guys such as Ralph Macchio and C. Thomas Howell.

"She's All That" is one of my feel good movies...ever trusted to make me smile and perhaps even swoon...btw Freddy Prinze had a very Jake Ryan vibe to him in that flick.

I love the Jonas Brothers and Jordin Sparks...they really are talented even if they aren't old enough to vote!

I could go on, but the proof is in the pudding (or in the Kiva juice as a true teen might say).

Oh well, it could be worse, right? I don't purchase Tiger Beat or Teen Magazines. I don't pose as a teenaged girl in some "I heart Zac Efron" chat room. I don't actually wear the fleece or the Sperry's...

how hard is it?

How is it that I can be completely enraptured by "In Style" and which jeans suit my shape (or lack there of). Why am I ravneous over an online site delving into the all important matter of how Robert Pattinson is handling his new found fame and demi-god status? Why am I so consistently devoted to the time suck that is all things Facebook (enough said...if you FB, you know exactly what I mean)?

But I can't seem to focus for more than five minutes on something, anything that might nurture my soul?

Would it kill me to pick up the Good Book and just read a passage? How hard is it to find my old copy of "My Utmost for his Highest" and open to today's date? Or better yet, would it kill me to sit still for even 3 minutes to know, simply know he is God?

Why is it so hard? Why do I treat it like a dentist appointment or like that trip to the grocery store that will take so long you fear it will suck the life right out of you?

I don't know, and I hate to admit how hard it is for me... I want to know Him more. I want my life to be a reflection of His. I want a heart that hurts for what hurts His; and loves what He loves. Yet I know if I depend on myself and don't carve out that precious time for some "soul feeding," I will (to borrow a wise friend's quote) drift south!

We all drift south when left to our own devices. Just like the teeth that have gone thru orthodontia and are immaculate, perfect, lined up just so...but lo and behold...someone doesn't wear their retainer and within weeks the teeth are out of line again---they have drifted south. The principal is proven everyday in life and nature. I prove it everyday.

How hard is it to sit at His feet and say, "I am here. I offer it all to you---the good, the bad, the ugly. Take me and use me..." It's isn't hard really, and when He meets you there, which He does everytime time, there is nothing like it. Which begs the question, why do I make it so hard???