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Just for grins, I'm going to highlight a few giveaways that are must-sees. I'll do this at least once a day through the weekend, because GIRLS! The giveaways! They're fantastic! Don't miss these fun chances to win:
Clay in the Hands (handmade flower pendant)
Thoughts Du Jour (Coldstone Creamery gift card)
Some Kind of Wondermom (onesie)
Lille Punkin' (Mom Spit. Okay, that name is just making me laugh.)
Diaper Diaries (Script-Yours)
I can't imagine that anyone has time to be scrolling through Works-For-Me Wednesday entries this week, what with all the browsing through the giveaway goodies. Mr. Linky is going to kick me out! But neither rain, nor snow, nor sleet, nor freebies shall stop the WFMW train from a-goin', so here it is...
I've discovered an easy shortcut for bathroom cleaning. I've never had great luck with those bathroom wipes you can buy, pre-wet, because no matter how careful I am, they always seem to dry out on me. Instead, I keep a paper towel roll and a spray bottle of cleaner under the sink in each bathroom. This way, when those rare moments of cleaning inspiration hit me, I have everything I need right there--and I can throw the nasty used towels away!
So, do you have a tip you'd like to share? Leave your clever WFMW tips below, and be sure to check in with the guidelines here first. Remember to link directly to your WFMW post, not to the front page of your blog.
Remember, next week is the first Wednesday of the month, so that means it's time for another themed edition of WFMW. The first edition of Backwards Day was so much fun, we'll do it again next week. Instead of sharing a tip that has worked for you, you'll throw out an issue or question that has stumped you. Invite your readers to give you their feedback!
Powered by... Mister Linky's Magical Widgets.
This edition of WFMW is now closed to new links. Please join us next week for Backwards Day!
Up to this point, I haven't mentioned where I'm going this weekend, because I'm so excited that my voice gets all squealy whenever I talk about it. Have you ever read a squealy-voiced blog post? It isn't pretty.
I'm leaving Friday (flying! I hate flying! But I'll do it for these girls!) to go to Birmingham to meet face-to-face, in the flesh, BooMama and BigMama.
*squeal!*
My favorite-of-all-time band, Casting Crowns (together with their record label, Provident), is hosting us for a very bloggy weekend in which we get to see the Casting Crowns concert Friday night. AND to my utter delight (dare I say it, lest I break the spell?) we will get to go backstage and meet Casting Crowns.
*squeal!*
Hubs says, "Really, is all this squealing necessary? I thought you loved Casting Crowns because they are so humble and down-to-earth. Do you really think they would be comfortable that you're squealing at the thought of seeing them?"
Point taken.
So I will stop squealing and tell you in a voice just as serious and reserved as I can that I am terribly excited, about the concert, about meeting these two girls, and just generally getting away. Our kind hosts have booked us hotel rooms, and for some reason, they've given us each our own.
Our OWN rooms.
All alone in a hotel room.
I don't know that I've ever been all alone in a hotel room. How on earth am I going to sleep without my backside snuggled up to Hubs, or Corrie's foot lodged firmly in my kidney? I think I may have to jump on the bed to tire myself out.
Anyhoo, in addition to all the Casting Crowns fun, I can't wait to spend some time in real life with Big and Boo. Having read and adored them for so long, I suspect that after five minutes we'll feel like old friends. But I will tell you, no matter how many times you meet a bloggy friend in real life, it always feel like some sort of bizarre blind date.
What if the hair looks especially man-ish?
What if I miss my connection in Memphis (have I mentioned I loathe flying?)?
What if I act like a dork? (Let me re-phrase that. It is a given that I will act like a dork. What if I act like more of a dork than my normal allotment of dorkishness?)
I'm just hoping for the best and taking plenty of hair product. Because what else can a girl do?
Oh, and one last thing...(can you tell by the way I'm subject hopping that I have the jitters?)...Big and Boo are letting me sit in on their podcast, the thought of which is MAKING ME SWEAT, but I'm forging ahead. Sometime over the weekend, BooMama will work her techie magic and get the three-way podcast up on their blogs, and you can all confirm once and for all why I am a blogger and not a speaker.
*shudder*
And yet, still...*squeal!*
That's a lot of Southern Woman in one room, y'all. I have a feeling there will be stories to tell.
I'm not feeling very Halloweenie this year. Though I usually get all worked up over the kids' costumes (and end up making at least a couple of them), this year I laid down the law: I'm not lifting a finger or spending a dime. You either wear something we have, or you make it yourself.
And I did this, of course, because I want to encourage frugality and independence and creativity in my children, not at all because I'm WORN COMPLETELY OUT and don't have the wherewithall to get it together. Oh, no.
So Stephen (Anakin Skywalker) and Joseph (an Indian brave) are wearing previously-worn costumes, Corrie (Snow White) is raiding a wonderful stash of girlie Halloween costumes my friend J gave us, and my resourceful Adam has engineered an amazing ensemble in which he is some half-boy, half-robot creature ("It's a CYBORG, Mom," he corrected me after reading this).
I suppose in all fairness, if I'm not helping them with the costumes, I shouldn't get to raid the candy. But that ain't happenin'. It is a hard-and-fast rule in this family, written in stone: MOMMA GETS THE THREE MUSKETEERS.
So, what about you? Which candy do you sneak out of their bags while they're sleeping graciously ask your kids for? Anyone else having a low-key Halloween this year?
Batten down the hatches, girls...it's time for the Fall, Y'all Bloggy Giveaway, being hosted at my other blog, BloggyGiveaways.com.
Head over here to read through the guidelines, and go to this post to see the master list of giveaway deliciousness .
But I'm playing too, oh-yes-ma'am I am.
Actually, this giveaway comes to you courtesy of a company called The Fine Art of Family--I'm just the lucky girl who gets to host it.
This unique company (which has been featured in Town & Country, People, In Style and even The Today Show) specializes in heirloom gifts and jewelry that display the photos of your loved ones. There are key rings, money clips and picture frames.
But y'all. The jewelry.
These pieces would be a lifelong treasure--just look at this charm bracelet.
For the giveaway, The Fine Art of Family is offering their Image Case Necklace with Cord, a retail value of $150 (be sure you click on the link, so you can see the whole thing. One side is for a photograph, but the other side has gorgeous engraving.)
For your chance to win, just leave a comment on this post. I'll leave the comments open until this Saturday, November 3rd. Then I'll use a random number generator to draw a winner.
Remember to head over to Bloggy Giveaways for the master list of participants. Have fun!
Moms for Modesty -- Remember this? The URL has changed, and the comments didn't transfer--if you signed it the first time, please consider signing again.
Voters Should Get To Know Mike Huckabee -- Concord Monitor
Investigative Blogging -- Days to Come (Seriously, one of the funniest blog posts I've ever read. And I'm not just saying that because she's my friend.)
Onslaught -- YouTube Some will consider this racy, but it is not gratuitously so. It makes a very profound point. Hat tip to Sallie.
...until this.
I can hardly wait.
This post was originally published on May 18, 2007.
He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn over all creation. For by him all things were created: things in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or powers or rulers or authorities; all things were created by him and for him. He is before all things, and in him all things hold together. And he is the head of the body, the church; he is the beginning and the firstborn from among the dead, so that in everything he might have the supremacy. For God was pleased to have all his fullness dwell in him, and through him to reconcile to himself all things, whether things on earth or things in heaven, by making peace through his blood, shed on the cross.
We recite that verse in our church every Sunday morning. It's a hefty theological treatise about who Christ is, with lots of nice, churchy words scattered throughout.
But did you see that little phrase tucked in verse 17? Every Sunday morning I read it and sigh a very deep sigh:
...and in him all things hold together.
All things hold together. Yes. They do.
I'm sure a scholar of Scripture could expound on the theology of that verse for you in ways I cannot. Maybe "all things hold together" is speaking on the cosmic level, or the molecular one, about Christ's place as holder-together of the very fabric of the universe.
But it isn't theology I'm thinking when my child comes home from school broken-hearted or my daughter pours my moisturizer on the bed. Or my friend's husband leaves. Or one son tells me he hates his brother, or the dog throws up on the carpet. Or I feel like I'm standing at the outskirts of my own sanity, ready to walk away. Or Hubs is late for dinner or the garage door won't open or another young soldier dies in the desert. Or I've blown it, big-time, bigger than ever before, and I'm not sure where to go from here.
In him all things hold together.
When I'm holding on by a thread, or not even holding on at all, in Him there's rhyme for the reason, and footing on the slipperiest slope. I can't tell you how, or why, but it's right there in my heart--right there where all the pieces feel ready to fly apart.
Where things are spinning.
Where they hurt.
Right there at there very core of it all, something--some-One--holds me together and gently whispers the things a Father says.
Yes, He holds together the cosmos and the Church and the vast arc of human history, but He also holds together the heart of His messed-up child.
No wonder I sigh.
It was November of 1993. Hubs and I were in luuuuv, and he was ready to pop the question. But he is a good Southern boy, and he knew, therefore, that he had to ask my daddy first.
Hubs isn't easily intimidated by things. In fact, people who first meet him sometimes find him intimidating. He takes things exactly as they come, with a level head, and he almost never over-reacts or worries.
Except this time. The poor guy was a nervous wreck about talking to my dad. I'm the only daughter, the first-born, and my dad and I always have been close. AND Dad had a tendency for giving the boys I dated a hard time (I had shared all the stories with Hubs). He knew this might be hard.
Because Hubs is a smart man, he chose the big moment carefully. My parents had come to visit me at college, and Hubs took my dad to a Razorback basketball practice. This automatically put them on common ground, and (best of all) eliminated the need for that great killer of courage, eye contact.
As they sat there together, the thumping of the basketballs and the squeaking of the rubber-soled shoes echoing all around them, Hubs summoned his nerve.
"Mr. [maiden name]," he started, "I think you know that Shannon and I have become very serious."
My dad silently nodded.
"And I love her very much."
More silence. Poor Hubs.
"And I'd like to ask your permission to marry her."
Dad didn't speak for a minute. As he always does when he's reflecting (and my dad is usually reflecting), he gently rubbed his upper lip with his index finger. His eyes stayed on the basketball players in front them. He let the silence linger in the air just as long as he possibly could.
Then he spoke.
"Let me ask you a question."
Another pause.
"For 21 years, Shannon's mother and I have prayed every single day about the man she would marry. Every day."
Yep, another pause.
"What I want to ask you is, are you the man worthy of all that prayer?"
(May I just say how thankful I am that the world is structured the way it is? If I had been the one required to ask such a question, and I'd received such an answer, I probably would've started crying.)
But Hubs said the only thing a confident young man with the world at his feet could say: "Yes sir, I think I am!"
The conversation was easy and gracious from then on, as my dad gave Hubs his blessing and encouraged him.
I love that story. It makes for a few good chuckles when we tell it now, but it still--14 years later--warms me to the core. I treasure that Hubs loved me enough to humble himself willingly. I treasure that my dad loved me enough to make it hard. I love that those two men are such good friends now.
And you can bet my husband is saving that line to use himself, when some sparkly-eyed boy comes sniffing around our daughter. I pity the boy.
