T-minus 38 hours...

Oh no! 2 weeks since my last post. For shame; for SHAME! I think I have *gasp* been forgetting about this blog, thanks to THIS blog. Yep, we have created a blog to chart the excitement and heartbreak of finding a call in to ministry. It actually has lots of good stuff on there, why we're in Charlotte, why we want to be in ministry, what we're currently considering, etc.

It's not as funny as this blog, but then - what IS?

So in a day and a half and a few hours we'll embark on a 11+ hour roadtrip to Connecticut and try our hand at being New Englanders. I think we're half crazy - or God has a crazy plan for our life and we're just crazy enough to do it. Either way, it's clear whot he crazies are. US! Crazy or not, we're pretty excited about the trip. I've never been to Connecticut, and really just learned in the past few months where it is on a map. (I know!!!!)

I plan on posting pictures and getting on here to rant periodically - please pray for us as we check this out. It's nuts and crazy and only a couple fools too young enough to be scared of anything would do it.

Whatever happened to "cut and dry"?

You know - things that are balanced and orderly. Black and white. A then B. Genesis then Rev. Peanut Butter and Jelly. Peas and Carrots. Sigfried and Roy. Captain and Tenille?!?!?!

I 'm not sure who (although I do have some theories) planted this idea in my head that life was going to be organized and logical. You put in your dollar, and out pops a diet coke. A simple, vending-machine existence that was consistent, dependable, predictable and boring. One long line of Dilbert cartoons and Seinfeld. Stuff you could count on that didn't rock the boat.

I think when I realized I was going to be a pastor's wife I failed to read the fine print. I'm not sure what type of fine print God would write about this profession, but I would bet a whole bottle of blood pressure medicine that it would be something like this:

Things (specifically life, from now until you croak) are going to be crazy and you are never really going to to know what's going on, where you are going and what you should be doing; what just happened will be insane and what is about to happen will blow your mind. Don't try to figure it out, just roll with it dude. Blessed are the flexible, for they won't be bent out of shape.

If I had been given this little tidbit, I think I would be handling life a little better. At least, I think I would be. I wouldn't have had a meltdown in someones living room like I did today. The reality and fruition of faith is just so hard. Trusting what is ahead, not cling to the comfort that is behind, and not being wavered by what beckons from the left and the right are just tough. I feel like I'm on the ridiculous, yet strangely addicting game show, Wipeout. Imagine me running over giant foam balls hoping I don't slip into the mud before I get catapulted into a ring of fire or onto a conveyor belt filled with pool toys. That sort of feels like me at the moment, sans wet suit and safety goggles.

I'll let you know when I make it over the rubber battering ram and safely into the foam tub. So far, I'm stuck in the middle of the obstacle course wondering where the ladder is.

I need people!

So, it dawned on me today how much I need people in my life. It's no secret I am a people-person, and I know - from even a biblical standpoint - it's good to have people in your life who know you, you know them and you can feel real and honest.

TJ and I spent all weekend with various friends and their kids. It was great - and incredibly rejuvenating. Not like - you-mowed-the-lawn-in-112-degree-heat-then-plunged-into-an-ice-filled-tub refreshment, but the type of refreshment you get when chatting over a meal (my life revolves around food, we established this in a previous post) and dreaming/wishing about life, the future and the scary new adventures God pulls out of His sleeve. I don't know if God wears sleeves, but if he did they would be full of secret candy and magic tricks - just like at the circus. I know God will have some cool disappearing penny tricks for me when I get to Heaven, I just know. Or maybe he'll pull a poodle out of his hat for me....OOH even better.

Today after church we had some relatively new friends over for lunch (WW-friendly, OF COURSE) and it was fun chatting about what's in store for both of our families...it was neat. They also have a sweet 1 year old who kept me entertained as well. Tripod wasn't sure what she was.

As I was cooking dinner tonight I was thinking how neat it was to have spent lots of time with people. People who I love and who love me back. Yay for friendship, yay for love, yay! I feel thankful - so very very thankful.

Figure 8

Well, I picked weight watchers back up a couple weeks ago. Much to my chagrin I have officially gained back all the weight I lost the 1st time I did it. Q!$#R(*$!!Q#%&

Thanks to the "Orlando swimsuit incident" I got mad enough to get back in the saddle and put down the french fries. 8 pounds in two weeks! Not bad! Granted, that's a spit in the ocean compared to where I have to go, but I'm feeling pretty good about it. When my clothes get baggy and my pants shimmy down on their own, I'll be happy. When I go to the doctor and they say "oh hey, you've lost some weight!" I'll be happy. When my blood pressure goes down and I get to stop taking the Atenlol, I'll be happy then too. When I have nothing to wear because my clothes are all too big. I'll be happy - until I have to pay for new clothes, of course.

Somebody tell me why I'm doing this at the biggest crossroad in my life?

Thoughts on the food chain (aka heirarchy)...

I've never been one for hierarchy. I have never really had a problem speaking my mind. Since a kid I would make a decision and go with it - disregarding and "or else!" threat my parents would hand down. When I was 2 or 3 I was the goofy kid who would barely eat (yes, this caught up with me in college when I discovered take out) and I ESPECIALLY would not eat meat. No way, uh uh. This trait, however has managed to stick with me.

On one occasion my Dad, being the certain Alpha male and grand poo-bah of the Beal household told me to eat the meat on my plate or go to bed. I went to bed. They gave me choice (ha! fools) and I made it. According to my brother, the look on Dad's face was classic. Too bad I was strutting up the stairs worrying if I might die of malnutrition in the night. I think my brother brought me something to eat later, because he was one of those rare "nice" brothers who cared about is dorky sister.

Fast forward to today. Where I am employed at an organization full of hierarchy. Where I can't go directly to certain people, but I can go through their gatekeepers (administrative assistants) and guard dogs (assistants to their administrative assistants). 2+ years here and I'm still getting the drift of how to maneuver through bureaucratic land mines......I still have my limbs so I suppose my professional kung fu skills (interpersonal sales skills) have paid off. It just seems so unnecessarily exhausting. And for what? Dare I say....ego?

I just don't get it. Why the lofty office? Special parking space? Assistant to the administratvie assistant? Multiple blackberries? Doesn't that get bothersome? In recent weeks, I have found gladness in my menial role in cubicle land. Sure, I'm held accountable to things beyond my control, but I am not woken in the night by the pious humming of a b-berry. I do think about work - and sometimes dream about it. But lately my perspective has continued to change and improve. I do what I can, knowing God goes before me and after me to make things work and come together. I don't feel valued by people, but I do by Jesus. What a nice place to be.

I am human, He is omniscient. And that is the only hierarchy I need.

Flushed away.

So - funny thing happened to me today...

Right before lunch, I went to the ladies room. As I'm sitting there, I hear a "clink" like something metal hit the back of he toilet, tile floor, etc. My first thought was "Great...I'm sitting here and the toilet is going to fall off the wall." It didn't fall off. Yay.

I finish, stand up and look around to see what the noise was. Apparently one of my earrings had come unhooked and feel IN the toilet. Which at this point, was just used. These were not worth saving, so I flushed it away.

I decided to toss the other one, walking around with one hoop, al a Pirate style just isn't my bag.

Seriously people.....whose idea was spandex?

So recently, my sweet hubby and I went on a vacation to sunny (as in Dante’s Inferno, 7 layers of Hell HOT) Orlando. It was as much relaxing as a networking gig for TJ. I slept in a lot more than he did, and I never really had to dress up in my “goin’ to meetin’” clothes like he did. Pajamas were completely appropriate for me.

We stayed at a resort that was so huge it could probably have housed all of Scotland. According to the map, there were 15 or so pools. They failed to mention that half of these are not constructed yet. Nothing like arm-wrestling a snotty 12- year old for a half broken lounge chair. I went out and purchased a new bathing suit for this vacation – my first one since college, actually. I graduated from college in 2001.

The horror of trying on a swimsuit is universal. No woman, anywhere likes doing it. Even the size 2 stick people that claim to be “overweight” hate it. Nobody wants to go in a dressing room after eating at Sbarro and stand 14 inches from a mirror reflecting every genetic abnormality possible in a few pieces of spandex. A potato sack would actually be more flattering on me. Either way I found one I somewhat liked, bought it and packed it for the trip.

I think there should be a second phase of swimsuit shopping – walking around in it wet, and in public. Just to make SURE you know what you’re getting yourself into. Who knew spandex could get clingier, but after splashing in a chlorine fountain, it does! And then you get to walk out of the pool and amble to your chair all while your spandex is clinging to you and creeping into places it shouldn’t be, and leaving “no room for imagination” as my mom would say. MORTIFYING! REALLY – who’s idea was this?!?

Fast forward to Sunday night when we get home. I pulled our scale out from the 6-inch dust bunnies guarding it under our bed, breathe in (somehow, I got in the habit of sucking in my stomach when I get on a scale and it doesn’t help, but it’s habit) and step on it. I then realized just how angry I can become in a meager 3 seconds. It doesn’t take long and I have a flashback to my first night at Weight Watchers in 2004 when – after stepping on their cattle scale - the kind old lady behind the desk covered her mouth and gasped, looked at me in disgust and said how “well” I carried my weight. That old lady part didn’t happen.

So I had my first (albeit 5th?) weigh in this morning to see if I can’t pull off another weight loss success story. No, don’t even ask what it was.

Hopefully you’ll be seeing less of me soon…