Push-Button Hope is just not happening here. Not Today.

My hope is built on nothing less than Jesus' blood and righteousness....and Christian radio.
Nope. That last part is not true.
To be honest, I am not a hater of Christian music/radio but it sometimes makes me gag.


Let's do a few pros and cons on it right here, right now:
Pros for Christian radio - 
• positive, encouraging music
• something the kids can listen to and you don't have to worry about them repeating any unsavory lines from the songs they hear in front of grandma.
• some of the music is actually based on scripture.
• there are countless testimonials of how someone was at the end of their rope then tuned in to Christian radio and the song playing literally saved their life.


Cons for Christian radio - 
• DJ's
• Pledge drives
• The same 5 bands on repeat
• DJ's


There! I've said it! In other words, most Christian radio stations drive me bonkers. And yet, I still tune in. Why do I do that? What is it about my personality that continues to feast on a steady diet of cheese in my ears day in and day out? And by cheese, I am talking about the schmaltzy, fix everything with a 25 word devotional, fake-laugh-sounding deejay.


What I really want from a Christian 
radio station:
• Hire DJs who actually laugh from their gut...not to mention have a good sense of humor. The ten commandments do not include, Thou Shalt Not Be Witty. Or Thou Shalt Not Speak In Any Tone Other Than High Church.
• Real music. Not pop music that is recorded under a Christian label.
• Independent artists.
• Music recorded after 1999.



I know I must sound like an atheist to some of you at this point. I actually love Steven Curtis Chapman and respect Casting Crowns. I recently saw Chris Tomlin in concert and was wholly impressed. But where are artists like Gungor, Jillian Edwards, All Sons and Daughters, Sandra McCracken, Sara Groves, to name a few? Is it all about the money and the label? I do realize that many many many people want to hear Third Day (whom I also love), Barlow Girls, Point of Grace, Michael W. Smith, and any of the Winans. I also understand that any song performed by a group with the word "Hillsong" in it is gold. They are the "cool kids" in Christian radio circles.


I'm a promoter of the kid who sits on the back row. Who talks in church. Who doesn't always wear the trendiest outfit or the latest style. Who loves to laugh more than anything and incorporates their humor into everything they do. Who almost didn't try because fear of failure paralyzed them. That was me. So naturally I am drawn to that kid...that group...that artist. I would love to see Christian radio promote that kid too. Not because they already have a Dove nomination. But just because they are freaking GOOD. INSPIRED. HAVE A WORD I need to hear...not a tired chorus that just rhymes or contains the verse-of-the-month. (Jeremiah 29:11 anyone?)


Radio is a powerful medium. I appreciate its history, its effects, its purpose. But not everyone who needs spirit-filled music is comfortable listening to 2 people from the John Tesh School of Diction and Timbre (JTSDT) quote fragments of scripture out of context and acting like they have never had diahrrea or a crusty cold sore in their life. (I'm also picturing a toupe' and/or a perm.) I see that as a theme in our churches as well. C'mon people! Show your fever blisters. Don't be ashamed...everybody gets them.

Available April 24th on iTunes

Currently 6 people follow this blog. I am expecting to lose a third of my following after this post. But before you leave, please look at this brand new album coming out Tuesday, April 24th. Have you ever seen anything more lovely? I expect the songs from it will be even more spectacular. Am I bragging? You'd better believe it. THIS is what deserves to be all over the airwaves. And not because of my relationship to the artist. (well...not JUST because of that) but because I know where her heart has been and what has inspired her to write the songs on this album. Check it out. It's 100% lactose free.

And Lord, haste the day when my faith shall be sight

The clouds be rolled back as a scroll;

The trump shall resound, and the Lord shall descend,

Even so, it is well with my soul.

Now THAT'S hope!  Horatio Spafford, I would definitely push the button to hear more of you.

Keeping the Fun in Dysfunction

Everyone has a dysfunctional family. Everyone.
How you deal with it determines whether your dysfunction turns into fun or funk.
Don't think you're gonna get the bottom line lesson on happy families in this blog post, but I will share a tip that has worked for us to keep us from living in a funk because of our dysfunctions.

Marry well.

"Well" in this case does not mean marry into money or marry someone who is climbing the ladder of social acceptance. What it means is to marry someone who says, "WELL...we will just have work this out together" or "WELL...it's just not that bad" or "WELL...I am going to crawl down into the pit with you and help you out."

That's what Buddy and I have learned to do. It's taken approximately 33 years but I think we are finally getting the hang of it. As I look back, i see evidence there were certain clues this was happening. Such as the time when he was faced with the decision of closing down his business in Fort Walton, leasing his store in Niceville, and moving his business into our back yard shop. And further back when we were wondering if staying married might be harder than staying together. And most recently, when my husband has crawled into the pit of aging parent problems with me and kept my head and heart afloat.



I'm a crier. Not in the town crier sense. But in the ugly-contorted faced-red-nosed kind of crier. I shed tears occasionally. This most recent chapter in my life has caused a few riverlets of salty fluid to run down my cheeks as I think of the kindness, support, prayer, strength, and love my husband has shown me. I have felt overwhelmed, frustrated, and exhausted, but never alone. That's how I know I will make it through.

I knew I married well when I put laughter and sadness on a balancing scale and saw that thru every single rough patch in my life, there was laughter infused into it.

I knew I married well when all 4 of my children were born and they were beautiful...all favoring their father.

I knew I married well when after 33 years of marriage, we go on a vacation and still have fun when it's just the two of us.

I knew I married well when more than anything I want to go through the living room into the kitchen and fix myself some hot coffee first thing in the morning, but can't because my husband is on his knees praying for our family in the living room, blocking my path.


We married very young. (VERY young) I don't condone 20 year old children getting married. I don't condone children getting married at all. The evidence is my oldest married at 29 and my next oldest, at 29 is still unmarried and I was/am more than fine with that. (Little Bud bucked the system at 24.) I can only say that because we serve a merciful God and Buddy and I are both stubborn that it is working.

And working well.

 

 Happy Anniversary to my Fun Husband.
 I love you.

From Ridiculous to Extraordinary in One Tall Moment.

I knew that I would be protected forever because of the day I sprained my ankle after jumping off the bow of a boat.

I see some explanation is necessary.

I'm very vague on dates, unlike my older southern friend from Fried Chicken, Alabama - "Yes, that was Septembuh of nannyfo-uh..."(September, '94) so I'll guess this took place about 5-6 years ago. We were with family and friends out on our boat off the coast of Pensacola Beach in a rather choppy sea on a dolphin watch or fishing or something. Well...I get very seasick in a choppy, wavy gulf so Buddy offered to get as close to the beach as possible and drop some of us off at Fort Pickens. The waves were bringing the boat in closer than was safe so Buddy hollered, "Y'all need to get off now before we get beached!" I, being a cross between the Proverbs 31 and Ephesians 5 wife, immediately jumped off the bow of the boat into what I thought was 18" of water. It turned out to be closer to 6" of water. Owee.

My oldest son, Buddy IV, was with us that day. Upon seeing my obvious and extreme pain, he plowed into the water as the boat was rapidly receding from the shoreline and swam to my side. The look of concern on his face touched me forever. He didn't know whether to blame his dad for yelling at us to jump, or to blame the boat for it's sub-par design that could allow it to be grounded in 6" of water, or to blame God for making waves in the Gulf that day.  He proceeded to show me compassion and aid that I didn't think was possible from a 21 year old boy.

That's not a very dramatic story, but it is typical of the character of my son. (Both of my sons, actually.)

Barney B Burks, IV, aka Baby Buddy, aka Little Bud, aka Bud was our Bouncing Bundle of Blessedness. Being pregnant with him was akin to hiking uphill with a 60 pound backpack strapped to your belly. He was about 20" long and weighed 10 pounds 10 ounces at birth. I called him the Cube. Not really. But I have used that expression when describing him as a baby. 

Oh. My. Gosh. The cutest baby ever. Dimples as deep as moon craters, wide open grins all day long, curly blond locks, and poop constantly running out of his diaper. Baby Buddy grew in knowledge and in stature. Mostly in stature. He graduated from high school at 6'3" and then grew 2 more inches after that. The freshman fifteen, for him, meant inches. It's nice to be tall, but the best thing about Buddy is not A single thing, it's three:

•  His ridiculous personality. Unlike the rest of us, Buddy     won't repeat something funny if he thinks he wasn't heard. But you don't have to worry because something new and funny will be coming shortly.

• His humility. This boy was good at every sport he tried. And believe me, he tried many. He's even good at Scrabble, which boggles the mind if you've grown up with him and listened to his vocabulary. But we had to pry out of him any of his accomplishments. (also unlike most of us) He never, ever brags on himself. Thank goodness for Bree, his amazing wife, my third daughter. Bree used to have to make him call me to tell me little things like winning a game BECAUSE OF BUD'S GRAND SLAM!!! One day I got an email from Bud and all that was enclosed was a link to another website. It was merely the University of Florida Intramural website stating the winner (Bud) of the best baseball hitter on campus...The Home Run Derby! University of Florida, home to 45,000 students. Sheesh.

• His character. Of course you think your children are special. Each one of them has a gift. Everyone knows that. However, this young man has continued to blow our minds with his wisdom, capacity for love, and loyalty. He is child-like and a cut-up  90% of the time. As a matter of fact, if you didn't know him but happened to come upon Bud playing around with his family or friends, it would quite surprise you (because of his shenanigans) to learn that he has a masters degree in structural engineering. He does not quite fit the mold of the average engineering student, believe me! But he never ceases to amaze us with his ability to comfort, his desire to be Christ-like, to show compassion, and to bring a peaceful solution to any problem. His depth and insight are straight from Paul's prayer in Philippians 1:9-10: 

"And this is my prayer: that your love may abound more and more in knowledge and depth of insight, ¹⁰ so that you may be able to discern what is best and may be pure and blameless for the day of Christ..."

One of the most beautiful things about my life is to see the love my children have for one another. ♥ I've never seen anything like it. When they are all together, the mood is usually set by Bud. He is a stabilizing factor in their lives...especially Jake's. Bud chose Jake to be his best man in his wedding. It was the best day of Jake's life. You see, Bud has been almost like a second father to his little brother. Not that Jake needed one because he has a wonderful dad. (and he certainly did NOT need any more mothers.) But Bud took it upon himself to be whatever Jake needed and he took his role seriously. When he turned 21, he chose not to drink because he did not want Jake to ever see him with alcohol and be tempted to do the same. He was on the sidelines of Jake's football games just like one of those dads that remembers every single play his son performs. It was torture for him to have to miss Jake's college games so he would try to listen online or at least watch the play by play stats on the UWA website. (torture, indeed). It's a beautiful sight to behold whenever they are reunited. 

Today (Feb. 1) is Bud's 27th birthday. To say we celebrate this day is an understatement. Buddy, you are both insane and an inspiration. Preposterous and a paragon. Here's to you, Buddy IV. Thank you for protecting our family and pouring your joy into our lives.

"word from your mutha."

Command Z

I was a 49 year old woman with an active family that included 4 biological adult children, a husband, a job working with students 12-18, a home to take care of, and the sole caretaker of unhealthy aging parents (reserving this topic for a future post). After much drilling and consideration and a new iMac computer, I decided with the help of my family to go back to school to pursue a degree in graphic design. Let me add here that I wasn't even really sure what a degree in graphic design was, but I just wanted to learn how to do art on the computer. So after making the decision Dec. 25, 2008, I signed up for my first class on Jan.4, 2009 and started 3 days later.

My first impression upon walking into class: Oh.My.Gosh.What.The.&#$@.Am.I.Doing? That was actually my second and third and twelfth impression as well. The class was Computer Graphics I. It is a beginner class in this program. To clarify "beginner", it really meant that you should already have a working knowledge of all the Adobe Design programs like Photoshop, Illustrator, and InDesign, as well as know your way around a Mac, which I'd owned for 2 short weeks. I felt stupid, stupid, stupid. And to top it off, my instructor was apparently the most brilliant, important, educated, philosophical, expert in his field....the elite fraternity of Junior College Visual Arts Instructors. (I did not assign him those attributes, he himself implied all of them). I learned in the first few weeks, that my best friend on that PJC computer was the COMMAND Z shortcut. For those of you who don't know what that does, it is the PC equivalent to CTRL-ALT-DELETE...to go back a step, to erase what you just did. Man, oh man! Those awkward little squiggles just disappear on the spot!

I have a new community of friends now. I am probably the only one without a tattoo and have the fewest piercings...but they are artists, therefore a very colorful group. My youngest daughter, Andrea, tells me incessantly how glad she is that I have a more worldly view and diverse friendships And she is right! I consider my life richer for expanding my circle to more than just "church" friends, or middle-age grandparents. (But if you really know me, you understand that my circle of friends will NEVER consist of only people my age.)

I'm over halfway through the program now, working 34 hours a week, going to school 12, planning which 2 nights of 7 that I'll actually cook, washing many loads of laundry on Saturdays, folding laundry on Sundays, declining social opportunities because I have projects to complete, scurrying around trying to discover scholarship opportunities for old women going back to school, calling the emergency room to see if either one of my parents has checked in, and still using COMMAND Z in class. But I have learned that you can't use CMD Z in life. No matter how much you've grown up, how many times you've rededicated your life at camp, how many old sweatshirts you've donated to Goodwill, how many tears you've shed, that you just can't undo what you have done...to others, to yourself.

But...

Thank God we don't have to worry about that. Jesus Paid It All so that we could have our canvas white as snow. I'm trying to use the consequences of my mistakes to paint a new picture on it. I know we've all been to the place where we couldn't stop uttering, "If only I hadn't done that". We've torn up hearts, relationships,  reputations, etc. and we have to live with the consequences. What you do with those consequences is what determines the whole, completed picture of your life.

Some changes since I started school: I'm 3 years older, we added a daughter in 2009 and a son in 2010 (thanks to Buddy and Jourdan), Andrea brought new life to our first grandchild in May 2011 (Baby Bobby), my boss quit, my aging parents are unhealthier than ever, and I have a fish named Nick. Did I mention I'm 3 years older?


Things that haven't changed: I am still married to a wonderful man, I still get more pleasure out of my family than I deserve, I still can't find matches to socks, I still plan trips I'll never take, I still don't exercise regularly, and I still love teenagers. (not ALL teenagers so don't start making plans to ship me yours). I am still using the CMD Z option like crazy and I am still making mistakes in life I wish I could erase. However, I hope to put those paints to proper use. And if I happen to get a tattoo, I'll post it proudly.

And here is what it will look like:

:

The First One

the first one...


today i am recalling the events which led to my eldest child's birth.
some people might call it "Babies Having Babies".
while i was certainly the most mature 21 year old i'd ever met, in reality i was an infant myself. spiritually. i made the decision to quit college, marry young, and get a real job. what a life we were living! brand new house (mortgage - $329/mo.), brand new car (1979 thunderbird) and brand new boat (24' sea ray cabin cruiser that we kept in our driveway, which made it necessary to park on the street). to these defining possessions we were adding a child. perfect.


back in the day, early gender identification was a crap shoot so we decided not to have the official guess and be surprised with whoever god brought to us and just decorate in primary colors...which we all know is the major reason anyone REALLY wants to know...to solve the nursery design mystery.


because i came of age in the 70's, i chose no drugs for delivery. ( i also read breastfeeding books published by LaLeche League so that should tell you i was basically a dairy cow for all of my 20's.) poor baby jourdan. tugged into this harsh world with forceps, and then given a name that cannot be found on any magnets, mugs, or mini license plates. while i was weak, weak, weak with post-partum exhaustion, my mother-in-law slid a quick one in on me and asked me to spell my new baby's name with a "u" since it happened to be a family name on her father's side...of which we were totally unaware or else jourdan's name would have been "alexandria" or "edith" instead.


i was supposed to go back to work after 6 weeks and finish out my first year at my job so i could get a check for 2 weeks paid vacation. i opted not to for a couple of reasons:
1.) i could not tear myself away from this child, 
2.) when i told my boss (a proud member of N.O.W. and hater of babies) that i was pregnant, she asked, "well...are you going to HAVE it?" uhmmm....yeah, jerk. i'm not only going to have "it", i am going to be proud to be a mother who doesn't have a career that requires a business card and sensible shoes. so we sold the sea ray and became poor so that i could stay home with my perfect baby daughter with a "u".


at first, she slept in a hand made cradle next to my side of the bed. i tied one end of my robe belt around the rocking part of the cradle and held onto the other end so that i could lay in bed and rock her after she woke up for the 3rd time in the middle of the night. and jourdan loved to rock. i rocked her every day until i was too pregnant with her sister to lift her up out of the chair after she fell asleep. i'm sure that was traumatic for her. she was one of those you had to lay down with in order to get her to sleep.


if i knew then, what i know now, i would have laid down with her every night until she left home for texas at the age of 22. she has been "that" kid. the compliant one. the peaceful one. i should have had an inkling what her personality would be like when i was told my due date was dec. 24th and i stated, "i do not want to have this baby before christmas because i don't want to be in the hospital on christmas day." so she waited until the 27th, after i had packed up my christmas decorations, to come stay.


i could write an entire day about this first one. how we grew up together, how she became a friend, how proud we are of her, how strong she is, the way she cares for her younger siblings, her loyalty, her gifts, her importance to us. but today, i will just reflect that she is ours and i'll never understand why. except that god has used her to grow me up and to teach me unconditional love and make me grateful i know jesus better because of her.



















Happy Birthday, Jourdan.

Blog Schmog

i swore i'd never do it. i have an aversion to people writing down their thoughts and expecting other people to want to read them. now i realize most people have moments of brilliance now and again but those are usually watered down with stories of recipes and how hard it is to be a mother and bad metaphors for the christian walk, etc. i don't mean to sound cynical...i'm just busy. way too busy. too busy to be typing this out for sure. with the exception of a few profound and gifted women I know (and one I don't know) who blog, there is no reason good enough for me to read someone else's thoughts when i have a stack of books beside my bed that i have not finished...by equally profound and gifted writers whom i have just supported by PAYING for their books.

however, my daughter has insisted i try this because she likes to read my texts. go figure.

so here i am imposing upon you, the reader with no extra time on your hands, to see what i'm thinking today.

in today's entry, i will covenant with you, the busy reader: "i will try my best to limit my paragraphs. to not endlessly speak of my children. to not whine or cuss. to not tell you what to do. to only use a rare cheesy metaphor, and to not make every post about my grandson, bobby." ~Barbara Burks

i know i will be more successful at some than others and those of you who know me can probably guess at which i will fail.