How to know if you’re a Christian

There’s all kinds of pamphlets and information out there that evangelicals have created to help you know if you’re really a Christian. Those well-meaning pieces of paper printed in love point to verses throughout the Bible and if you’re in doubt, you can pray the sinners prayer and do the ABC thing one more time (Accept, Believe, Confess, for those unfamiliar with the lingo).

However, I have found a more practical, real-life test. Go camping. With your kids. On a weekend that was supposed to be nice and isn’t. Here’s my three-fold test to see how much you really love Jesus and your neighbor:

1. Go camping on a weekend that was forecasted to be nice with the exception of scattered showers on the first day. Suffer through a thunderstorm the first night, high winds and tree branches falling all around you the second night, and frigid temperatures the third night.

2. Have neighbors move in on one side of you that have the toddler from Hades. He throws temper tantrums 24/7, including at 2 a.m. and 4 a.m. Wake up and discover that neighbors have set up camp on the other side of you who drive your dream car, the one you’ve been drooling over for a year and were joking with your husband about how much nicer it would be to take THAT car camping instead of your own. Stare at that car for three days while you freeze your tush off making eggs and pancakes and roasting marshmallows.

3. Just when you think you are in the clear – your husband decides to go home one day early because no one has slept in three days and it’s a recipe for disaster, you’ve maintained your cool and your cheer thus far, doing your best to hold in tears and temper tantrums (even though you really wanted to join that toddler in the dirt on the campsite next to you), when your husband informs you he’s seen two ticks on the tent and you should inspect the children very closely for hitch hiking ticks. Panic. Check. Re-check. Determine everyone is bug free, but because of your manic tendencies, you itch all over for the next two days.

After enduring tests #1, #2, and #3 see how much you still love Jesus and your neighbor. And if you’re still thankful for rain and wind and fall temperatures and can love your camping neighbors and feel compassion for the other mother with the dirt-loving devil child and are thankful for healthy children and the chance to spend quality time connecting with them, you’re most likely a Christian. If not, pick up a pamphlet and pray the ABC one more time.

We had a fun family weekend. Minus the camping part. At least it’s fodder for good stories and funny memories.

MDM #20

Recent Funny Moments

Million Dollar Moment #16

Little Miss just completed a week of Safety Town. Every evening for a week, kids entering kindergarten heard important messages from “safety heroes” in our town  – firemen, bus divers, policemen – and learned silly songs with memorable messages. At the end of the week, the parents came for a party and they sang us their songs and answered questions about what all they learned that week. Upon completion of the “Safety Town Celebration” Little Miss looked at me wide eyed and said, “That was the first time I sang on stage in front of people. I liked it. When can I do it again?” No doubting whose daughter she is.

#17

On the way home from Safety Town Celebration, we had a discussion on which Disney Princess was the most safety smart. We determined it was Cinderella. She had a mean stepmother, but she always did her work with a good attitude, and then she obeyed her fairy godmother and went straight home at midnight like she was instructed not even stopping for her slipper. We decided the least safety smart was Snow White because she let the stranger in the dwarves’s home. That was one of the most bizarre conversations I’ve ever had.

#18

One recent evening at the park, T-Rex kept asking me to do something for him over and over and over. I finally said, “I haven’t heard a please yet.” He looked at me and said, “Yeah, neither have I!”

Road Trip

I made the 5 hour trip to my parents house this week with the kids. We pulled into the driveway a little earlier than my mom expected. She came outside and greeted us with, “Wow! You made good time!” It was at that point that I realized I had arrived at a new destination in my parenthood journey. The Roadtrip Without Stops. I had driven 5 hours with my 2 children (mostly) happy in the backseat. They fed and watered themselves from a lunchbox I had pre-packed. They snacked when they needed to. I only heard about a half dozen rounds of “HOW MUCH LONGER??” We made no potty stops, and I didn’t have to stop to change diapers/find pacifiers/spoonfeed/nurse/change outfits from blowouts or leaks. The car even cooperated and I made it on 1 tank of gas. It was amazing.

It seems it wasn’t that long ago that I would make the 1 hour trip to my Grandma’s in Florida with fear and trembling. I’d pack a bag for the day that would make you think we were staying a week. Then I’d strategically plan the trip so that the little ones would not be hungry and would be sleepy, but not so sleepy that they’d get so upset they couldn’t actually fall asleep. After adhering to a carefully masterminded plan to avoid screaming infants in the backseat that I could do nothing about whilst travelling at 70 mph, I’d turn around and head for home that afternoon hoping for the same. One infant would scream as soon as it got dark. Another infant would scream….just to scream.

So as I unloaded the car, and the kids unloaded their own stuff, that they had packed themselves, I smiled and thought. “Priceless,” and “I could definitely get used to this!”

#11 MDM

An Ode to the Cold Salad

Oh cold salads. How I love you in the summers. How do I love you all? Let me count the ways.

1. You make summer parties a snap. Like a few weeks ago when The Narrator requested a family lunch after the triathlon on his birthday. I assembled you all a day or two ahead of time. All packed neatly in bowls in the fridge, you made the race day party completely hassle free. We cheered on the sidelines, then rushed home to greet everyone for lunch. I pulled all of you out of the fridge and set you on the counter. Hungry triathletes and spectators hungry from watching racers work so hard devoured you in good form. Then I packed you all up and put you away. No oven, no stovetop, just pure cold refreshment assembled with leisure the day before. And everyone raved over the refreshing food on the warm sweaty day.

2. You make picnics in the woods taste gourmet. Mr Mighty bean salad all full of protein swimming in vinegar and spices, and you Pretty Pasta Salad with chunks of cheese and onion and peas swathed in white low-fat mayo, you made that picnic in the woods by Lake Michigan taste exceptionally delicious. Paired with the turkey burgers toasted over charcoal, this was no ordinary picnic of burgers and chips. Waiting for us in a cooler so patiently, you did your job of finishing off a day full of sun and sand with memorable gusto. Ravenous from a day full of play, you were the star of our dinner under the canopy of green.

3. I can eat you for weeks. Leftover in my fridge, you keep for  a week, and some of you for two! And most of you give us the pleasure of tasting better after each day you marinate in your dressings of choice. I loved you the first time, and even more the second.

4. At impromptu gatherings you make my life easy. Like the time I ran 14 miles with my training partner, and we came home ravenous and empty of fuel, we paired your mighty leftovers from the picnic the day before with a takeout pizza. You hit the spot, taking pizza and making it into a full, well-rounded meal with your veggies and protein to supplement and soak up the grease and the bread.

5. You keep me cool and refreshed. What summer cook doesn’t hate to be stuck in the kitchen slaving over 450 degrees of heat? That’s why you, Mighty Bean Salad, dumped from cans and whisked together in healthy oil and vinegar are one of my favorites. Even you, Chilled Chicken Salad, after a quick stovetop visit for the chicken are rather easy to assemble. And you marinated veggies, chopped and dumped into a pool of vinegar – you all help me leave my shiny new oven feeling rather blue and alone. Never fear, she’s just on summer vacation and will be put to good use this fall, when this cook doesn’t mind the heat so much.

My cuddle bug

T-Rex has developed a habit over the past six months of climbing into my bed around 7 a.m. and then falling back asleep for a little while before he starts the “I want brefast” chant. I didn’t realize how important this new routine was to him until a couple weeks ago. I decided to be a “good” mom and get up and shower and be dressed before the kids woke up. I stepped out of the shower, and a very red-eyed, poochy-lipped T-Rex was at the door trying to hold his composure. “What’s the matter, buddy?” The floodgates opened as he cried, “I didn’t get to cuddle with yoooouuu!!!” Break. My. Heart. I scooped him up and reassured him that we could still cuddle for awhile. And so we snuggled until he was satisfied and started the “brefast” chant.

This morning, he climbed in as usual around 7 a.m. and fell right back to sleep, but he grabbed my arm and wrapped his little arms around it as if clinging for dear life, and snuggled his head into my shoulder. He was fast asleep, but everytime I shifted, he grabbed my arm tighter and buried his head deeper.

I know our mornings are going to be seriously rocked in six weeks when Little Miss starts kindergarten. So in the meantime, I’m soaking up every second of summer morning snuggles while I can.

#10 MDM

Glo-Stick Grandpa

It’s been fun over the past 5 years to watch our parents turn into grandparents. I’ve gotten a kick out of my parents especially. There’s just something special about watching your own parents turn to mush with your kids and do things they never, ever would have done for you as a child. Two popsicles? Sure thing honey! A stuffed animal at the zoo? You betcha! A zoo umbrella, ok! Zoo sunglasses, yeah! (They go to the zoo a lot, mainly because they have passes to one of the coolest zoos in the U.S.) A little stuffed animal to remind you of our trip, of course!

My parents came to visit recently. It was their first visit in our new home. We were delighted to show them around our new town, which happened to be having its annual festival. The weekend concluded with fireworks. For a small town, we were rather impressed with the show – not to mention that we didn’t have to fight traffic, we weren’t crowded on the lawn, and it took us exactly 5 minutes to get to our car and drive home. None of the above would have been true in the big city we moved from.

We arrived with just enough time to claim our patch of grass and spread a sheet with a good view of the open sky. There were groups of people with sparklers, and a general spirit of celebration in the air. My Dad said he was going to go check something out. I watched him as he headed over towards a group of young people and I thought at first he was going to go inspect the riff-raff – maybe make sure they didn’t have something illegal that they were lighting up. But then I saw the very brightly glowing young man, and I knew that was where he was headed. Sure enough, Dad walked back with two glo-stick necklaces for the kids. I laughed. It did make it much easier to keep track of them on the walk back to the car.

It’s funny how something so little and simple makes such big memories. I get a fuzzy warm feeling every time I eat a red hot because my great-grandpa always had them at his house. I chuckle every time I see a scratch-off lotto ticket at the gas station because my Grandpa bought me one once and I won $5. Maybe in their 30′s, my kids will smile and think of my Dad every time they see a glo-stick necklace. You just never know what those Million Dollar Moments will be.

#8 MDM

Tickle Fest

One recent evening, Little Miss was sitting on my lap and we were having a tickle fest. She’s never been one to sit and cuddle; even as a baby she was always on the go, constantly wiggling and moving. So tickling has been our method of “cuddling.”

I paused in the tickle fest and began to whisper in her ear about how ticklish her daddy is, and where his tickle spots are. As we were whispering, The Narrator walked over with a “And what’s that you’re talking about, huh?” Without skipping a beat, Little Miss replied, “Shirts. We’re talking about how many shirts I have in my closet.”

The Narrator didn’t buy her attempt at a white lie, and replied while lurching at me, “Your Momma has lots of ticklish spots too!” Next thing I knew, I was laying on the floor, laughing uncontrollably trying to get away.

In an instant, I felt something physically release inside of me. I couldn’t remember the last time I laughed that hard – the kind of laughter where you can’t help yourself and you couldn’t stop if you tried. They say that laughter is the best medicine, and as I lay writhing on the floor, I felt something penetrate my bones and move through my body. I was lighter. Life was simpler. I was a kid again. I was 17 and falling in love with the man of my dreams. I hadn’t a care in the world, and was flattered by his attentions. My life full of potential and unlimited dreams lay before me. All that from laughter resonating deep in the soul.

He finally let me go with a twinkle in his eye. The kids had joined in too. T-Rex had pounced on my head tickling my neck, and Little Miss was pulling on my leg trying to save me. I sighed and wiped the tears from my eyes. Before I resumed the weight of adulthood, I lingered in the light carefree moment and breathed in my family.

I’m not saying that we should all be tickled once a week until we laugh so hard we can’t breathe, but it was nice to laugh so hard and just let go of adult assumptions and pretentions.

#4 Million Dollar Moments

Blueberries this way

I’m kind of addicted to picking blueberries. And eating them. I’ve gone blueberry picking 3 times this month. I never knew what I was missing!

My second blueberry picking trip was with my Mom and Little Miss Sunshine. Unlike our first picking trip, the day was clear and sunny and gorgeous. The blueberries had plumped and hung on the bushes in clumps singing in unison “pick me!! pick me!!” I never realized how many blueberries could grow on one bush. You could stand at one bush and pick probably a pound of blueberries or more by the handfuls. The sweet aroma like blueberry muffins hung in the air. I am definitely going to have to plant some blueberry bushes.

Once our buckets were full we headed back to the car to drive to the stand to pay for our treats. We had arrived before the rush and the street was filling up. I had parked on a slight incline and as I was backing up, I thought I was getting stuck on the hill. I made it out onto the street and realized I had run over their little wooden sign with an arrow that said, “blueberries” to help people know the blueberries were behind the row of apple trees. Oops.

Little Miss Sunshine was rather concerned. “You’re going to tell them you’re sorry you ran over their sign, aren’t you? You better tell them you’re sorry.” Oh…the values we instill in our children come to haunt our own actions. “Yes, Little Miss, I’ll tell them I’m sorry.” Although I really didn’t want to admit I’d knocked it over. I tried to stand it back up, but it needed a staple, or nail…or superglue.

As I was checking out, I could tell that Little Miss had an eagle eye on me to make sure I apologized. As I handed the dear owner my cash I said, “And…I accidentally ran over your blueberry sign.” She looked at me and said, “Oh, well did you put it back up?” I shifted my feet, “Uh, I tried, but I think it needs a staple to hold it together, I’m sorry.” There I said it. Whew. I loaded up a bag with cucumbers to kind of make up for the poor sign. I figured it was time to try to make pickles anyway. She said she’d have one of the guys look at it and put it back together.

We got in the car and I informed Little Miss that I had done my deed.

We returned to pick a few more pounds of blueberries one more time. There’s nothing like having a freezer full of blue summer in January to break the icy doldrums. I hoped the owner didn’t recognize me from the other day, and if she did, she didn’t mention it. She was just happy I bought 5 more pounds of berries, and some peppers and broccoli too. I did notice that the sign was back up, and had a little string for extra support. I parked on the road, nowhere close to the sign.

#3 Million Dollar Moments

1,000 Million Dollar Moments

I was standing in line at the grocery store for what felt like forever. I don’t understand why whenever I go to the store there are 23 closed lanes and only 3 open lanes. I leaned on the edge of my cart, my eyes scanning the magazine covers. Rachel Ray’s latest recipes. Oprah’s latest diet. The most recent bachelor breakup (is anyone really surprised, seriously?). The Hills stars’ recent surgeries and botchups and breakups. As I stared at the mind-numbing celebrity tidbits that mean absolutely nothing and are mostly absurd, I wondered why in the world we are so obsessed with celebrity lives, and more recently, our fascination with reality stars. Is there a deep dissatisfaction with our everyday lives that causes us to want to live vicariously through other’s beach bodies and exotic getaways? Do our lives seem somehow less miserable when we realize the celebrity’s life isn’t perfect either?

Finally, it was my turn to check out and leave the muck behind, but the questions lingered. I tried to answer the question for myself – is there something about my own life, some boredom that makes me wish my life were grander or more exotic? The answer was a decided no.

The next day the kids and I picked blueberries in the rain with my sister-in-law and her kids. As we laughed at our  silliness, I regretted leaving my camera in the car, because I wanted to remember the moment forever. I wanted to remember our 5 year old, 3 year olds and almost 2 year old with dripping hair in the warm summer rain carrying buckets full of bluberries. I wanted to remember my sister-in-law’s grinning face with hair dripping down the sides and her round pregnant belly underneath her turquoise raincoat. I wanted to remember my daughter and her 3-year-old cousin standing under a pink Dora umbrella laughing and munching big bright blueberries. I wanted to remember T-Rex determined to fill a bucket with berries all by himself. I wanted to remember my 18-month-old niece sitting down in the mud. These were every-day-moments that I knew would get lost in my memory if I didn’t capture them somehow.

Then I realized I had my answer to my earlier questions. I simply forget. I forget these everyday moments that are beautiful and full of life. I forget the vibrancy that is marriage and raising kids and taking care of a home. I forget the laughter once it’s over and tend to just remember the big highlights or the big lowlights. But this is what life is made up of – millions of moments with the people I love that I wouldn’t trade for a million dollars or any amount of fame or success or celebrity.

I decided to start a chronicle of these million dollar moments. I plan to blog 1,000 of them. Blueberry picking in the rain was #1. Hopefully in the process, you’ll recognize your own million dollar moments and remember how rich your life is day in and day out.

It was the day that never ends….

I’m supposed to be sitting around visiting with my dear friends in Florida right now, my dry skin soaking up the humidity re-hydrating my sinuses, while my kids burn off their energy and re-kindle old friendships. Instead, I’m sitting at a Clarion Hotel in Detroit soaking up high speed internet while my kids run around the room slapping each other in some game they just made up. THIS has been a day for the records. I think I’m accumulating enough airline travel with kid stories to make up a book, or in this case non-airline travel.

This was supposed to be a simple trip. The Narrator dropped the kids and I off at the Detroit airport a little before 11 a.m. today. Our flight was scheduled to leave at 12:30 and we’d arrive in Tampa at 3:00 p.m. My dear friend went into work early today so she could leave early and pick us up. We arrived at our gate and discovered we had an hour delay due to a mechanical problem with the plane that they were in the process of fixing. There had been NOTHING online or at check-in to tell us we were delayed. I called The Narrator to let him know and told him I’d keep him posted. He had packed his camera and planned on doing a photo shoot in Detroit for the day. Since we live about 2 hours from Detroit, he figured he’d make the most of the trip instead of just heading straight home.

We sat at the gate and sat. And sat. And sat. Another hour delay. Then another. Then no news. Then another hour. There were four other kids aged 2-7 on this particular flight and they all became good buddies with T-Rex and Little Miss Sunshine. In fact, I’m not sure how we three moms (two of us were traveling alone with our kids) would have survived the day if they didn’t have each other to play with. While the newly remodeled Detroit airport is nice, it’s no Tampa airport which has a nice play area for kids.

Finally around 3 p.m. the airline started offering food vouchers for both lunch and dinner. They said we should be boarding around 4 p.m. (remember this was supposed to be a 12:30 flight with a 3 p.m. arrival time). I got in line  to get the vouchers. And we waited. And waited. They were HAND filling out these vouchers and it took a looong time. Finally about a half hour later, we had our vouchers and since it was apparent that we weren’t going to be leaving by 4 p.m. (judging by the ladder under the plane and complete lack of maintenance activity) I decided to walk the kids down to the farthest end of the terminal for a sandwich. They needed to burn off the energy. I could tell we were starting to push their limits of staying in one place and playing with good manners. We marched all the way to the end and at the last minute I changed my mind on which restaurant and veered into a smaller sandwhich shop. They ordered their fancy croissants and we marched ALL the way back down the terminal. By this time in the day I was reaching my limits too. It was funny to watch everyone grin and smile at us as we marched through the terminal. The kids did look rather adorable with their Lightning McQueen and Disney Princess backpacks on. Adorable, despite that I had been hissing for a half hour straight, “Stay next to me!! Don’t run!! Watch where you are going! Slow down! Keep up! Please walk normal and WATCH where you are going!!” Ok so they were adorable, me really not so much. At all. Nada. Zero adorableness in the hissing mother mode.

We made it back to the gate to discover that YES, finally we were going to board. At five p.m., I called The Narrator to announce that at last, finally, we were sitting on the plane. We began to taxi towards the runway, and I sank back in my seat praying the kids would sleep. I wasn’t sure how they would handle 2 1/2 hours more of being cooped up. T-Rex had a minor meltdown as we were heading towards the runway because he couldn’t see out the window and he didn’t believe me that we really weren’t in the air yet.

And then the terrible noise started that made everyone on the plane fear it just might break into pieces right there under our feet and dump us onto the runway in Detroit. We had heard rumor that the problem with the plane was something with the hydraulics and a pump. And it sounded like the pilot was doing one last final check as we taxied away. And the hydraulics were grinding and groaning and complaining LOUDLY. I looked around and saw the other passengers looking at each other and starting to laugh. At this point in the day, FIVE hours delayed, it was all so ridiculous that you really had few choices left: laugh, cry, or start a riot. Fortunately, people were still able to laugh.

Soon, the pilot pulled the plane off the taxi route. And we sat. And sat. And then they announced that the pilot thought something still wasn’t right (DUH. It doesn’t take a license to know THAT didn’t sound right!) and was checking with maintenance to see what to do. TIP: if the plane sounds like it’s going to fall apart, it’s a good idea NOT to fly it. Fortunately, maintenance agreed. And we headed back to the gate. They instructed us to sit and wait while maintenance took another look at the plane, but if we wanted to get off and get a refund we could do so. Half the plane got off. I mean, really, they had already been looking at the thing for FIVE hours. If it wasn’t fixed now, they weren’t going to fix it in 20 more minutes. I sat there with the kids and made a few phone calls to The Narrator. My brain was so fried at that point that I couldn’t even think of my options other than: laugh, cry, or start a riot. I was leaning towards starting a riot, but I had a 2 year old and a 4 year old and thought that might not come off as good mothering skills, although I’m sure they would have made willing and valuable accomplices.

After about 20 minutes, we were instructed to de-plane and wait at the gate while they made a final decision about the plane. It’s too bad no one asked me what to do about the plane. I would have told them to take it out back and start a bonfire with it and make s’mores. At least something good could have come from it then, because really, what’s not good about charred marshmallows surrounded by gooey chocolate and graham crackers? How can you be sad or angry or frustrated then? I think they might have turned their angry customers into happy customers had they just started a bonfire with the plane and invited everyone out for s’mores. Problem solved. Well, unless you really had to get to Florida for a wedding or a cruise.

At last, at 6 p.m. nearly SIX hours after our departure time and three hours after our original arrival time, they canceled the flight. We were all told to go downstairs to the ticket counter for a refund or to re-schedule. Oh, but it gets better. A plane full of passengers had also checked in for a 6:55 p.m. flight to Ft Lauderdale and their flight was canceled too – our plane would have been their plane too (had it actually made it to Florida and back). Tell me, WHY did those people show up for their flight? Don’t you think around oh…3 p.m. (the time the plane should have been leaving FL to head BACK to DTW) they should have put on their website and updated the flight status as seriously delayed? Nope. Spirit prefers to keep their customers completely in the dark and show up at the airport and wreck hundreds of peoples lives on an otherwise happy Friday. So there we all stood, in one giant line with one ticket agent to deal wtih a couple hundred customers who really are ready to riot at this point. In fact, I almost saw a couple riots start. A policeman, who seriously looked like a guy from the movie Mall Cop on his little wheelie thingy, smoothed things over. People got more and more frustrated over very valid concerns like – why don’t you have another plane to bring in? Why don’t you schedule another flight? Why do you only have 20 seats on a the ONE flight tomorrow? Why can’t you help us schedule on another airline? There was ZERO customer service help. Zero. No hotel vouchers. No free flight vouchers. So sorry our plane broke. Your loss. I didn’t talk to a single person in line who said they’d ever fly Spirit again. I know I won’t!!

Thankfully, The Narrator had stayed in Detroit all day long and we didn’t have to wait 2 hours for him to come and save the day.  He showed up, located our checked luggage. A new friend in line in front of me gave me Spirit’s 800 number (which no one had told us we could call to reschedule). I made the call and got us on a flight for Sunday.

We decided to spend the weekend in Detroit and just make a family weekend of it. We found a good price on a hotel on Priceline.

There’s more to tell. More funny thoughts, more good human moments, more ridiculous non-customer service moments, and I’ll get to them later. For now, I need to recover from spending 8 hours in the airport to nowhere.

Night y’all!!