Facing My Own Fears

I woke up on Sunday morning super EARLY while the rest of my family slept a while longer. Our church service starts at 9:30 a.m., so there was plenty of time for me to jump on the computer for a while and work on some writing projects. I typed an hour away and then another before I jumped up to wake everyone up. It was too late for us to make it to our church, so I said we could go to a different church just south of us that starts at 10:30 a.m.

My husband was on board in spirit, but his flesh was tired. Another twenty minutes went by and my last hope to get to church would be yet another church's local service that starts at 11 a.m. I was determined to get there one way or another.

The boys had been up late the night before. My two teenagers were completely comatose and my three little guys were zonked. I told everyone that I would be leaving at twenty til eleven and all were welcome to join me. My sons, Joel and Adam (ages 12 and 10) said they didn't feel like going to church. I said, "Okay, you don't have to go. You can stay home and I want the laundry folded, the dishes put away, the table set for lunch and your rooms cleaned."

They decided to worship Jesus after all. Hmmmm. Ron and the other three were too pooped to "party" and normally, I would get really aggravated with that, but for whatever reason, I decided to trust that my marriage would stay together even if Ron skipped church one week and that my other three boys would stay out of prison despite their sleeping in on Sunday!

I got in the car with the other two "chore avoiding worshippers" and we headed to the church. I had been to this particular church a few times, but it was still somewhat unfamiliar to me. While driving, I called my husband back at home and asked him to go online to double check that I had the right time. I did.

This is a BIG church (5,000 plus people), and when we got there, the worship singing had just begun. I was greeted by an usher as he opened the door to let me in. I thought we were entering the back of the building, but these doors were on the side which meant we were entering into the second row. I NEVER sit in the front 25 rows of any church with my boys! UGH!

I filed into the row with Joel and Adam following me. We sang four or five songs and then the pastor came onto the stage to introduce a special guest speaker. It was Ryan Dobson, son of Dr. James Dobson. Ryan is an author and speaker who travels around to different churches teaching about Christ. About ten minutes into his presentation, Adam and Joel decided to fight over the church bulletin. Now what 10 and 12-year-old WANTS a bulletin? You couldn't give bulletins away on the school grounds to 10 and 12-year-olds.

Of course, the only reason either one of them wanted it was because the other one did too. They pulled on it until it ripped with a loud tearing sound. Embarrassed, and remembering why I NEVER sit in the first 25 rows of any church with my boys, I collected the two halves of the bulletin and shhhhed my boys.

When Ryan was finished, I thought I would go to the back table and buy his book. I hoped to get a chance to talk to him about writing and speaking since I'm looking for an agent for my book, UGH! The Joys of Raising Boys - Survival Stories from a Mother of Five Boys. I got in line and purchased a book and waited my turn to speak to Ryan and get him to sign the book. As I got closer, Joel and Adam continued to horse around. It didn't matter that I took the bulletin halves away, they found something else to squabble over. UGH!

So, I was very distracted and a bit intimidated. I wanted to ask Ryan if he might possibly be willing to read my book and give an endorsement. But, I didn't want to appear pretentious and the closer I got to the front of the line, the more anxious I became. I chickened out. Joel and Adam were driving me NUTS by this time and all I did was way "Hi, would you sign this?" and I handed him the copy of his book that I had just purchased.

It was pouring rain that day and I sent the boys out to the car ahead of me. I had a newly printed copy of my book in manuscript form sitting between the bucket seats of my mini-van with a note on it for my neighbor, Vivian. I was supposed to drop it off at her house after church.

One of the boys must have stepped on the book because there was a big muddy shoe print smack dab in the middle of it. UGH! "Who stepped on my book?" Once again, I got the usual "NOT ME." I hate that answer!

I decided that my fear of rejection was the reason that I chickened out in mentioning my book to Ryan. I decided to go back into the church with my muddy and wet manuscript tucked under my jacket (like it mattered at that point) and I got back into the line to see Ryan and this time, when I got up there, I said, "I'm so sorry Ryan, I was here before and I bought your book and I wanted to ask you a question, but chickened out because my boys were driving me nuts and we weren't supposed to be here anyway except that my entire family slept in TWICE this morning and this was my PLAN C option for worship and I didn't know that you were going to be here and I wrote a book about my boys and was wondering if you might possibly be willing to read it and endorse it because I would be so honored if you would. BREATH ALREADY!

He starred at me as I rambled on and nodded his head a bit. He was very approachable and during his talk, he mentioned about his little guy who is only 2 1/2 who likes to climb into the dryer and he also talked about his wife and how her mom passed away just before their son was born. His stories touched me because my mom passed away when my first two boys were babies and it was (and is) hard.

Ryan said that he can't give endorsements, but that he would be happy to read it. I was thrilled. "Okay," I said and I handed him a copy and told him that any feedback or advice he cared to give would be greatly appreciated.

Here's the moral of the story.....I almost let my fear of rejection get in the way of me asking for something. It's okay for me to get a "NO," but it's not okay for me not to ASK. As I move forward in the great big grown up world of writing and speaking, I need to just ASK and be okay with the answer.

What are you afraid to ASK for because you might get rejected? Do you realize that you stand rejected if you never ASK? JUST ASK!

The Power of Fear

I took three of my youngest sons to an indoor waterpark over Spring Break (which is no break at all if you ask me). We had two full days of splashing fun at CoCo Key Resort in Arlington Heights, IL, only about an hour drive from our home. My good friend Michelle and her two boys plus two more moms and their seven kids met us there.


It was great. The moms were planted in a corner with our swimsuits on, but neatly concealed under a layer of "cover-up". It was never our intention to swim anyway. We had reading material, but rarely looked at it as we chatted the hours away. The kids only came back to our corner when they needed money or to tell on someone.


Half way through our first day, my youngest son, Caleb (seven-years-old), came over to the mom table with his head down and looking like he just lost his puppy.


"What's the matter, Cae?" I asked him.


"I'm jealous."


"What are you jealous of?"


"My big brothers get to go on the fast slides and I don't." he said.


To that, I quickly redirected his thought process with, "You're not jealous, you're scared! If you want to go on the fast slides, there is nothing but your own fear that is stopping you. Face your fear and go down once. After that, if you don't like it, you don't ever have to do it again, but don't tell me your jealous." (My tone may appear a bit cold, but I call it "inspiring.")


Our mom table was located near the bottom of the fast slides where the people were spit out. I turned Caleb around and said, "Look in there. Do you see any dead people floating in the water? Do you see any blood? Arms and legs missing?"


"No," he said.


"Well, there you go. Then you don't have to worry about dying, losing a limb or getting bloody. If all these people are surviving the fast slide, chances are you will survive too. Be brave and just do it!"


"Maybe I will be brave tomorrow," he said and ran off to the stand under the giant bucket that was clanging indicating that it was about to dump.


That was the end of the fast slide conversation for the day. The next day, I took the boys to McDonalds for breakfast and then we returned to the waterpark for one more day of fun. Caleb was following behind me and my other two boys (Joel and Adam, ages 12 and 10 respectively) were in front of me hurrying to get us a table.


I had all but forgotten about Caleb and his jealous fears until he piped up with "Well, at least I won't die!" as we passed by the fast slides again. Then I remembered our previous conversation and encouraged him to get Joel to go with him.


Joel and Caleb headed up the long stairway to the entrance and stopped at the painted sign that said "You must be at least 48" tall to ride this attraction." Joel shoved Caleb's back up to the sign and placed his flat hand on top of his head.

"Yep, you can ride," Joel said.


Caleb looked nervous, but he followed behind his brother and the two of them waited in a long line of other brave souls. I stood at the spit out spot to get a picture. I looked at the kids in front of my boys and figured when I saw the slides spit them out, my boys would be next. I only took one picutre of a complete stranger. (Someone must have cut in line.)


Caleb had a blast and he faced his fears like a champion. I was so proud of him and he no longer had to feel jealous! When you think about it, fear is a powerful thing that can rob us of a lot of joy!

When I think about all the things I haven't said or haven't tried because I was afraid, I wonder how much I have robbed myself of over the years. I need to take my own advice and be brave and face my fears. Thanks Caleb for teaching Mom something new!!

The Easter Ham that Almost Wasn't

I spent twelve hours on the day before Easter cleaning the house, doing laundry, and preparing food so that I could finally have a holiday go off without a hitch. I grocery shopped (with a LIST) and actually planned a menu of ham (of course), green bean casserole, hash-brown casserole (BTW, Tater Tots DO NOT work as a substitute for the hash browns, so shop early-UGH!), strawberry jello, Italian pepperoni salad (my favorite and see recipe below), banana bars, and dinner rolls. I even planned and prepared in advance two appetizers of bacon wrapped water chestnuts and crock pot cheesy nacho dip.

I woke up early on Easter morning and turned on my crock pot and put my casserole side dishes in the oven. My oven has a setting where you can schedule it to turn on and off at a certain time. I have no idea how to set it, but my husband Ron does, so I had him schedule the oven to crank up right about half way through our church service. That way, the side dishes would be just about done when we got home.

My large electric roasting pan would serve as my second oven for the day. I pulled it out of the basement, rinsed it off, set the temperature to 300 degrees and proceeded to unwrap my ham. The ham had been thawing for three days in my refrigerator (it was a frozen ham that came from a whole pig that my dad bought from a farmer and had it butchered).

Unfortunately, unlike Jesus, even after three days, my ham did not rise from the dead. It WAS DEAD! I unwrapped it and discovered that it had a nasty freezer-burn. (I'd like to know who came up with the term freezer-burn. It just seems wrong that you can burn food in the freezer.) My ham was definitely burned, and pending another Easter miracle, it was headed to the bottom of my garbage can.

My morning was carefully scheduled and time was running out. If Ron and I were going to make it to church with the boys on time AND have an Easter dinner that included a ham, one of us would have to run to the grocery store (a fifteen minute ride to town from our house which is in the middle of nowhere.)

Ron volunteered to go while I showered and got ready for church. He is so much faster than I will ever be in a grocery store! He returned with the ham and I was dressed and had most of my make-up on, the rest could be done on the way. I got the ham into the roaster and we hurried the boys to comb hair, brush teeth, and get in the van. A last minute informal inspection of the boys Easter attire left me wishing I had noticed earlier that one of my boys was wearing a Chicago Bears shirt. I made a slight comment, but reminded myself that God is concerned with the heart and out the door we went. Go Bears!

We made it to church and had a wonderful time of worship. When we got home, we walked through the door and were greeted with a potpourri of aromas including that of baking ham, green bean casserole, and buttery Tater Tots with chopped onions that smelled better than they tasted, but I didn't know that at the time.

All of our family members grouped around the kitchen table and bowed to pray and thank God for His sacrifice and our celebration. We were especially mindful and thankful for the successful rescue of Captain Richard Phillips, the American captain of the Maersk Alabama merchant ship that was hijacked while carrying relief supplies to Mombasa, Kenya. Somehow, my Easter morning frustrations waned in the light of the heroic efforts of the brave Americans that were involved in the Maersk event at sea. What a perfect holiday!!

Italitan Pepperoni Salad

1 head romaine lettuce (washed and torn)

1 green pepper, sliced

6 hard-boiled eggs sliced

cherry tomatoes

1 can drained pitted black olives

2 teaspoons drained capers (usually located near the pickles in the grocery store)

1 tablespoon olive oil

4 oz pepperoni sausage, diced (use more if you are a real pepperoni lover)

4-6 slices of good quality white bread cut into 1/2 inch cubes

On a large platter, arrange lettuce, pepper slices, tomatoes, olives, and capers. This can be done artfully to impress the "Martha" in your life! Heat oil in non-stick skillet and cook pepperoni and bread together for a few minutes until bread is crisp and golden. Remove from skillet, drain and cool.

Serve with your favorite Italian dressing (we LOVE Newman's Own Olive Oil and Vinegar - YUM!) Also delicious with a red wine vinegar dressing or something homemade as long as it is vinegar and oil based, you're good.

You Kids are Driving Me Nuts! UGH!

Imagine what it is like to be the lone female living in a household of five sons and one husband. It's very much like living in a fraternity..........lots of farting, eating, breaking things and puking. Not to mention the bickering, fighting, rough housing, and towel twapping. I can honestly say that I don't ever remember a time when my girlfriends or my sister and I ever snapped each other with wet towels.

My boys go for blood! It's not a friendly game of tag, it's all out war, shield your eyes, someone is definitely going to get hurt. The towel snapping match usually ends with someone in tears, someone in time-out and me yelling "You kids are driving me NUTS!"

UGH! I say that a lot. And, it's true! They do drive me nuts.

I was the girliest girl on my block growing up. I played with dolls everyday. I had a suitcase filled with Barbies (Midge, Dawn, Malibu Barbie, my brother's GI Joe, the Sunshine family and of course, Ken, that hunk of plastic perfection) and I had a gorgeous three room pink Barbie house for my collection with furniture for every room. That was until Ronnie Cruz ran into it with his bike and broke the roof while his sister and I were having a nice afternoon of playing outside with our Barbies! That's a boy for you.

A few years ago I found myself saying "You kids are driving me nuts!" all the time to my boys. And, even though it's true, I didn't want them to blame themselves just in case the men in the white suits rang the doorbell. I wanted their memories of home to be somewhere in between the Osborne's and the Cleaver's - preferably closer to the Cleaver's. But let's be realistic, I don't think June ever ran outside, got into her car and kept driving until the crying stopped.

I decided one day that I would no longer say the words, "You kids are driving me nuts." I think I was secretly afraid that my continuous declaration of my pending insanity might make it so. I replaced those words with "This is very exciting!" Nothing else changed, only the words. I kept the tone, kept the level of intensity, but just changed the words. How hilarious!

The next time I entered a bedroom with the mattresses turned on one end leaning against the wall with one boy bounding down the "slide" and the other dumping all the clothes out of the dresser drawers to make stairs so he can do it to......I proclaimed to all the world "This is very exciting!" It was a true statement, just like the former one about going nuts. It was just funnier. Now my boys think I really am nuts! They can think what they want.