"What does precious mean Mom?"
The words fell off her lips yesterday afternoon while I was picking up the boys from school. It was the middle of the afternoon, so I had a lot of things running through my mind - dinner preparation, small group that night, the meaning of life . . . you get the picture. Being distracted in thought, I started to answer her with the part of my brain that wasn't occupied.
"Let's see, it means valuable, treasured, costly - loved." Hearing those words stopped me dead in my tracks. The van may have still been moving - but my heart came to an abrupt halt.
The word "precious" was something I had been pondering for about 24 hours. Every thought of it made my heart leap. The fact that Makayla pulled it out of the blue, was incredible. I spoke nothing about my experience the day before - to her or to anyone. There was no way she could have known that it was on my heart. God once again, was using my little girl to get my attention. He wanted me to know - really know - the meaning of the word "precious".
The day before I was delightfully surprised by the affection of a friend. The word "precious" accompanied a simple embrace, sealing the conversation we had that afternoon. Knowing how she felt about me . . . well, it's hard to find words for that. I felt loved. Through our transparent exchange I realized that our partnership was something I considered just as valuable.
The word "precious" sent from God's heart to her mouth and from her mouth to my heart . . .
. . . and the amazing echos of it's significance coming from my sweet baby girl.
Saturday, August 11
Friday, August 10
The Other Joanne
I'd like to write today about another Joanne that God has blessed me with. No, it is not myself. I may be working on building a better self-image, but that would be a bit much.
I just love it when God answers un-prayed prayers, or at least ones we are not even conscious of sending up. He will amazingly anticipate my need (the way that I do for my kids), wanting only to offer help, consolation and peace. Of course with God being the perfect parent, it is pretty safe to say the He gets it right most of the time, unlike this mom. Oh, the beauty of grace.
As I walk this journey of life, every step of obedience has met me with a provision from the hand of God. When it comes to serving in the ministry, I have to say that most of the time I am scared half out of my mind. God is teaching me how to take those thoughts captive, and to stand on His Word. Like a treadmill or exercise bike, I have to stretch those new brain muscles, working a bit each day. My progress can sometimes seem so slow.
There is nothing in my experience or background that convinces me I am able to pull of half of what He equips me to do. Over and over again, I marvel at the fact that God chooses the weak and the foolish - this is so that Christ will be seen instead of me.
Joanne came into my life at just the perfect time. Back when I was called to direct women's ministries our church, I remember feeling terrified. Lord . . . me? Are you sure? Confirmation after confirmation revealed that yes, God hadn't made a mistake. But it would be the beginning of some pretty big doozies for me.
Another women's ministry director in town, with the name Joanne R., with the same personality quirks and hang-ups? I couldn't have made that one up if I tried. Now, try and convince me that is a coincidence. I look into her eyes and share a good laugh, and I know that she is a kiss from heaven.
Joanne and I like to get together once a month, to encourage and support one another through the ups and downs of leadership. Rarely do we talk about our to-do lists or ministry programs. More often than not, we end up talking about our relationship with God and how He is healing this area or that. Many times (and this happens with other friends too), our seasons or circumstances will run parallel. This gives us both a glimpse into what the other is feeling, which makes prayer and our support of one another very powerful.
Having her kids all grown, Joanne is in a different season than I, and further along in many ways. It is great to sit and collect bits of wisdom she's experienced. She shares openly and honestly about her mistakes and shortcomings, which gives me permission to be true about my heart. Surrounding yourself with people you can learn from is one of life's greatest missions.
We were just visiting today about how unique and different we both are, and how we are also very much the same. If there has been a mold made for "Women's Ministries Directors", then the two Joannes would have smashed it to pieces. I remember not knowing who I should be when I stepped into my new role. I wanted to be like this person, or that person, and God kept bringing me back to "the original" that He designed in me. Being myself . . . yes that always seems to fit best.
If you have the need of some encouragement as you walk this road called life, know that God anticipates your every whim. Whether you speak it out loud or not, His ministry for your heart is on the way.
. . . You might want to get your hammer out. God's providence always exceeds any preconceived notion.
I just love it when God answers un-prayed prayers, or at least ones we are not even conscious of sending up. He will amazingly anticipate my need (the way that I do for my kids), wanting only to offer help, consolation and peace. Of course with God being the perfect parent, it is pretty safe to say the He gets it right most of the time, unlike this mom. Oh, the beauty of grace.
As I walk this journey of life, every step of obedience has met me with a provision from the hand of God. When it comes to serving in the ministry, I have to say that most of the time I am scared half out of my mind. God is teaching me how to take those thoughts captive, and to stand on His Word. Like a treadmill or exercise bike, I have to stretch those new brain muscles, working a bit each day. My progress can sometimes seem so slow.
There is nothing in my experience or background that convinces me I am able to pull of half of what He equips me to do. Over and over again, I marvel at the fact that God chooses the weak and the foolish - this is so that Christ will be seen instead of me.
Joanne came into my life at just the perfect time. Back when I was called to direct women's ministries our church, I remember feeling terrified. Lord . . . me? Are you sure? Confirmation after confirmation revealed that yes, God hadn't made a mistake. But it would be the beginning of some pretty big doozies for me.
Another women's ministry director in town, with the name Joanne R., with the same personality quirks and hang-ups? I couldn't have made that one up if I tried. Now, try and convince me that is a coincidence. I look into her eyes and share a good laugh, and I know that she is a kiss from heaven.
Joanne and I like to get together once a month, to encourage and support one another through the ups and downs of leadership. Rarely do we talk about our to-do lists or ministry programs. More often than not, we end up talking about our relationship with God and how He is healing this area or that. Many times (and this happens with other friends too), our seasons or circumstances will run parallel. This gives us both a glimpse into what the other is feeling, which makes prayer and our support of one another very powerful.
Having her kids all grown, Joanne is in a different season than I, and further along in many ways. It is great to sit and collect bits of wisdom she's experienced. She shares openly and honestly about her mistakes and shortcomings, which gives me permission to be true about my heart. Surrounding yourself with people you can learn from is one of life's greatest missions.
We were just visiting today about how unique and different we both are, and how we are also very much the same. If there has been a mold made for "Women's Ministries Directors", then the two Joannes would have smashed it to pieces. I remember not knowing who I should be when I stepped into my new role. I wanted to be like this person, or that person, and God kept bringing me back to "the original" that He designed in me. Being myself . . . yes that always seems to fit best.
If you have the need of some encouragement as you walk this road called life, know that God anticipates your every whim. Whether you speak it out loud or not, His ministry for your heart is on the way.
. . . You might want to get your hammer out. God's providence always exceeds any preconceived notion.
Thursday, August 9
Serendipity Books
When we were growing up, my Mom collected a series of books called "The Seredipity Books" for my sister. Neither one of us were readers (my sister more than I), but I remember those being my favorite picture books in the house. The illustrations were incredible, and these days I am discovering that the stories are even richer.
From Hucklebug to Fluttyerby, the worn out collection rests neatly on Makayla's dresser. They were something I inherited when my Mom was packing to move last winter. I consider them on loan to me for now. With my sister's name, address and phone number penned in the inside flap (in her third grade hand writing - so cute), I can't deny the fact that they will always really belong to her. It sure is fun having them on loan for a while.
Makayla and I have been reading a new adventure every night. Each book has it's own story, each story it's own adorable leading character. I've found that whether you are a toddler tucked in bed, or the mother who finally sat down for the first time that day - there is a lesson in there for anyone who dares to take a peek.
Each story will begin with the introduction of the main character, such as Leo the Lop or Catundra the Cat. Personality quirks fill in blanks where the illustrations fall short. You know right away what this character's tendencies are, where he has come from, and where he is going. There is an immediate conflict that grabs your attention, and keeps you on the edge of your seat until it is resolved.
As an aspiring writer, I appreciate their use of words - so descriptive and poetic. Stephen Cosgrove and Robin James were using their talents and gifts to the glory of God, whether they knew it or not. Interestingly, not an utterance of God is ever mentioned - but God's incredible tenderness and powerful presence resides on every page.
The brilliant thing about these stories, is that they demand introspection. The main character is always faced with his own shortcomings and failings. Morality ties things up nicely toward the end of every book, with a "moral of the story" for each reader to apply.
This got me thinking. Ministry doesn't have to be an organized group placed under the structure of a church body. Of course, much of God's work is accomplished here. But let's not forget that anybody who has a soft heart towards God and His "morals", who is living their full potential and chasing after their dreams . . . God loves to use these kind of hearts to display His splendor.
Kudos to Stephen and Robin. Your integrity has left a memorable legacy of right and wrong.
From Hucklebug to Fluttyerby, the worn out collection rests neatly on Makayla's dresser. They were something I inherited when my Mom was packing to move last winter. I consider them on loan to me for now. With my sister's name, address and phone number penned in the inside flap (in her third grade hand writing - so cute), I can't deny the fact that they will always really belong to her. It sure is fun having them on loan for a while.
Makayla and I have been reading a new adventure every night. Each book has it's own story, each story it's own adorable leading character. I've found that whether you are a toddler tucked in bed, or the mother who finally sat down for the first time that day - there is a lesson in there for anyone who dares to take a peek.
Each story will begin with the introduction of the main character, such as Leo the Lop or Catundra the Cat. Personality quirks fill in blanks where the illustrations fall short. You know right away what this character's tendencies are, where he has come from, and where he is going. There is an immediate conflict that grabs your attention, and keeps you on the edge of your seat until it is resolved.
As an aspiring writer, I appreciate their use of words - so descriptive and poetic. Stephen Cosgrove and Robin James were using their talents and gifts to the glory of God, whether they knew it or not. Interestingly, not an utterance of God is ever mentioned - but God's incredible tenderness and powerful presence resides on every page.
The brilliant thing about these stories, is that they demand introspection. The main character is always faced with his own shortcomings and failings. Morality ties things up nicely toward the end of every book, with a "moral of the story" for each reader to apply.
This got me thinking. Ministry doesn't have to be an organized group placed under the structure of a church body. Of course, much of God's work is accomplished here. But let's not forget that anybody who has a soft heart towards God and His "morals", who is living their full potential and chasing after their dreams . . . God loves to use these kind of hearts to display His splendor.
Kudos to Stephen and Robin. Your integrity has left a memorable legacy of right and wrong.
Wednesday, August 8
Green Means Go
While taking the kids to school this morning, we hit every green light from Springer to Canal. That has only happened to me a couple of times before, and it always grabs my attention. There is something about the timing of all of that - it just amazes me. It was as if everybody was moving aside just for us.
It got me thinking about how God will sometimes speak to me through a series lights - red, yellow and green. I jump into the driver's seat of life, and head out towards my own predetermined destination. Sometimes I'll hit a red light or two, or even get behind somebody who is taking their sweet time. I'll glance at my watch (or my calender) and think, "C'mon buddy, I have somewhere I need to be!"
Then there are the times when I am presented with a yellow light. This is when I have to make a split second decision. Will I slow down or speed up? The real question is, will I honor the rules of the road, or risk it all by trying to beat the red? Sound familiar?
Then, like this morning, you land on the green ones. An invitation to step on the gas and to move ahead one space. Green lights usher us into the next intersection, where we will have to make another series of choices. Should I turn right, or left? Maybe I should go straight, or turn this puppy around altogether.
Knowing your destination is key. Like this morning, I knew where I was going. I had a car full of kiddos, equipped with backpacks and lunches, ready to hit the campus. I was headed for the school. I was given a certain amount of time with which to get there. Knowing my role (mom), helped me determine my destination. I don't think my kids or my husband would have been too happy if I decided to make a left turn into the nail place for a pedicure. Pretty toes or not, it would have made the kids late, and my own conscience disgruntled.
So what's your destination? The Bible tells us that we are to love God and others - and that is God's destination (or destiny) for you - regardless of what road you're on. Don't give in to the enticing detours like making money or a name for yourself. Selling out because you are afraid to be real is not God's best. Cutting corners or running lights is never going to be worth the forfeit of your soul.
As you head towards God's destination for you, don't get discouraged. Remember there will be days when things aren't moving fast enough for you. You will find yourself stuck in a mess of traffic more times than not. Use that time to pray to the One who is in the driver's seat.
Always keep your eyes open, and your heart hopeful. Every so often, the light will be green. Go ahead, step on the pedal and enjoy the feel of the breeze. Stand firm on the fact that you are always on God's GPS.
He knows where you are headed, and His series of lights will take you where you need to be.
It got me thinking about how God will sometimes speak to me through a series lights - red, yellow and green. I jump into the driver's seat of life, and head out towards my own predetermined destination. Sometimes I'll hit a red light or two, or even get behind somebody who is taking their sweet time. I'll glance at my watch (or my calender) and think, "C'mon buddy, I have somewhere I need to be!"
Then there are the times when I am presented with a yellow light. This is when I have to make a split second decision. Will I slow down or speed up? The real question is, will I honor the rules of the road, or risk it all by trying to beat the red? Sound familiar?
Then, like this morning, you land on the green ones. An invitation to step on the gas and to move ahead one space. Green lights usher us into the next intersection, where we will have to make another series of choices. Should I turn right, or left? Maybe I should go straight, or turn this puppy around altogether.
Knowing your destination is key. Like this morning, I knew where I was going. I had a car full of kiddos, equipped with backpacks and lunches, ready to hit the campus. I was headed for the school. I was given a certain amount of time with which to get there. Knowing my role (mom), helped me determine my destination. I don't think my kids or my husband would have been too happy if I decided to make a left turn into the nail place for a pedicure. Pretty toes or not, it would have made the kids late, and my own conscience disgruntled.
So what's your destination? The Bible tells us that we are to love God and others - and that is God's destination (or destiny) for you - regardless of what road you're on. Don't give in to the enticing detours like making money or a name for yourself. Selling out because you are afraid to be real is not God's best. Cutting corners or running lights is never going to be worth the forfeit of your soul.
As you head towards God's destination for you, don't get discouraged. Remember there will be days when things aren't moving fast enough for you. You will find yourself stuck in a mess of traffic more times than not. Use that time to pray to the One who is in the driver's seat.
Always keep your eyes open, and your heart hopeful. Every so often, the light will be green. Go ahead, step on the pedal and enjoy the feel of the breeze. Stand firm on the fact that you are always on God's GPS.
He knows where you are headed, and His series of lights will take you where you need to be.
Tuesday, August 7
Empty Hip
I guess you could say I did okay today . . . minus the canyon size hole in my heart every time I turned around to look for my girl. I never realized how much I took mental note of her whereabouts until now. Every time I've glanced this afternoon, she hasn't been there. It is kind of like missing a limb.
We both did pretty well this morning. Orientation the night before really helped put Makayla (and mommy) at ease. She discovered that her classroom was colorful and fun, that her teacher was very nice, and that she already knows one of the other little girls in her class. (This is important stuff you know.)
So at 11:35am, I parked the van and helped my little princess out with her backpack and stuffed bunny. The boys and girls were encouraged to bring a friend from home today. Makayla choose her build-a-bear "Sparkle".
"See, you get to bring a friend with you today. How neat is that?" I said.
She agreed with enthusiasm. We crowded in with parents and little ones. Moms and dads were invited in to help find the cubby whereabouts. So I went with the protocol, and followed close behind with my camcorder and digital camera. This was a moment I didn't want to miss.
Afterwards, the students took a seat on the carpet and Mrs. A began reading a story. I watched Makayla's every move. So much of my heart connected to hers, even though no words were exchanged. I knew by her facial expressions what she was feeling. I imagined what she was thinking, what her questions would be, and what worried and excited her.
There I stood, on the verge of watching my last child leave the infant nest. Without even thinking about it I was anticipating her needs . . . needs that I would no longer need to meet. No more rocking her to sleep. No nursing or bottles. Diapers and Binky's had become a thing of the past. All in one blink.
When it was time for the parents to say good-bye, we gave a wave and headed out the door. I blew her a kiss, and she blew me one back. As I headed out to the car, I was surprised at how well I was doing, until I spotted the mom walking in front of me. She was carrying a little girl on her hip . . . and I realized that I don't have anyone to carry on my hip anymore. When Matthew went to school, I had Michael. And when Michael went, I had Makayla. Today, my hip was empty. And hence, came a good cry.
The emptiness made it difficult to breathe. God was showing me something in those moments, that I was finally able to understand about my childhood. Growing up I always felt like my little sister got more of my Mom's attention. It has been hurtful at times and difficult for me to understand, until now. I know that my Mom loved us both the same, and today I was able to stand in her shoes for just a moment. I was able to see why letting go of your last one is the hardest. There is something about wanting to make sure they are okay . . . it's what a mom does, you know? I discovered today that after your last child moves on, the need to nurture somehow never dies.
That will be my last "first day of Kindergarten", and that is a hard thing for me to absorb. I will not get another chance to carry her around on my hip, or to spend money on jumpers and gowns. Her favorite blankey will someday be a thing of the past, and those sweet curls won't always be so soft.
Watching my kids grow brings a mix of joy and pain. Matthew started sixth grade today, making him one year away from junior high - gulp. Michael stared third grade (my favorite grade in the world) and looks more and more like my dad everyday.
And on this day, my little girl was initiated into the big world - with Sparkle in one hand and mom's love tucked in her pocket.
We both did pretty well this morning. Orientation the night before really helped put Makayla (and mommy) at ease. She discovered that her classroom was colorful and fun, that her teacher was very nice, and that she already knows one of the other little girls in her class. (This is important stuff you know.)
So at 11:35am, I parked the van and helped my little princess out with her backpack and stuffed bunny. The boys and girls were encouraged to bring a friend from home today. Makayla choose her build-a-bear "Sparkle".
"See, you get to bring a friend with you today. How neat is that?" I said.
She agreed with enthusiasm. We crowded in with parents and little ones. Moms and dads were invited in to help find the cubby whereabouts. So I went with the protocol, and followed close behind with my camcorder and digital camera. This was a moment I didn't want to miss.
Afterwards, the students took a seat on the carpet and Mrs. A began reading a story. I watched Makayla's every move. So much of my heart connected to hers, even though no words were exchanged. I knew by her facial expressions what she was feeling. I imagined what she was thinking, what her questions would be, and what worried and excited her.
There I stood, on the verge of watching my last child leave the infant nest. Without even thinking about it I was anticipating her needs . . . needs that I would no longer need to meet. No more rocking her to sleep. No nursing or bottles. Diapers and Binky's had become a thing of the past. All in one blink.
When it was time for the parents to say good-bye, we gave a wave and headed out the door. I blew her a kiss, and she blew me one back. As I headed out to the car, I was surprised at how well I was doing, until I spotted the mom walking in front of me. She was carrying a little girl on her hip . . . and I realized that I don't have anyone to carry on my hip anymore. When Matthew went to school, I had Michael. And when Michael went, I had Makayla. Today, my hip was empty. And hence, came a good cry.
The emptiness made it difficult to breathe. God was showing me something in those moments, that I was finally able to understand about my childhood. Growing up I always felt like my little sister got more of my Mom's attention. It has been hurtful at times and difficult for me to understand, until now. I know that my Mom loved us both the same, and today I was able to stand in her shoes for just a moment. I was able to see why letting go of your last one is the hardest. There is something about wanting to make sure they are okay . . . it's what a mom does, you know? I discovered today that after your last child moves on, the need to nurture somehow never dies.
That will be my last "first day of Kindergarten", and that is a hard thing for me to absorb. I will not get another chance to carry her around on my hip, or to spend money on jumpers and gowns. Her favorite blankey will someday be a thing of the past, and those sweet curls won't always be so soft.
Watching my kids grow brings a mix of joy and pain. Matthew started sixth grade today, making him one year away from junior high - gulp. Michael stared third grade (my favorite grade in the world) and looks more and more like my dad everyday.
And on this day, my little girl was initiated into the big world - with Sparkle in one hand and mom's love tucked in her pocket.
Monday, August 6
Flipping Burgers
The breezy weather the past couple of days has set a good preface for the school year. My kids go back tomorrow. As I write this entry, they are taking their last off-track dip in the pool. It is cool enough today for me to leave the windows open so that I can hear them. Smoothing squabbles, getting drinks of water, listening to their laughter and watching them play together - all of this will be missed.
I step into this new school year with a little bit of nostalgia. Makayla, my baby, will be starting Kindergarten tomorrow. Once she steps foot into the school system, there's no turning back. From one season to the next, she will continue to grow like a weed, just like the boys. It is all happening so fast.
The house will be so quiet tomorrow afternoon . . . what will I do with myself? I've got a few projects I've been wanting to work on. I have a feeling that Ginger and I will do just fine.
I take a look into Fall, and wonder . . . what will I be doing? Flipping burgers for McDonald's? Working for the President of the United States? Only the good Lord knows. My interview seemed to go well this morning (I'm practically a pro remember?) It is always so hard to tell. There was no math involved, so that was in my favor.
The interview was for a ministry position for a church in town. I am completely surrendered to God's will, so I can't say I have a preference either way. It has the words "ministry and work" in it, so it may very well be an answer to my prayers. Although, I have to say that I have my heart set on door number one - but that door is only open a crack. There will be no forcing it open. God alone will have to extend that invitation.
I found out today that I was not selected for door number two. Although it would have been a fantastic opportunity, it is probably for the best. The job was in Modesto, and it required some evening help. Mike Winther, the president of Institute for Principle Studies was looking to hire an Administrative Assistant. This is a non-profit organization, working to implement Biblical principles into our government and school systems, into our church policies and family dynamics. COWABUNGA!! I may not have gotten this job, but Mike will be hiring more people and he said he would look me up in the future. I truly believe that this man and his team will alter the course of history.
No altering the course of history for this girl. At least for now. But wait a minute. Something tells me that the decisions I make in the smaller things make more of a difference than the big moments. I am finding that the simple pleasures in life, the genuine relationships and my primary roles are richer than any "world movement". It is there, in the towel washing and the recipe reading that my Jesus and I do life together.
Flipping burgers is really not looking too bad, put in the context of being in God's will. Impacting the world doesn't mean holding a lofty title or impressing others with your resume. God is not impressed with any of that. He always looks at the heart.
Altering the course of history . . . are you a part of God's world movement? It is pretty simple stuff. The job description goes something like this: live genuinely, and love God and others with everything you have.
I step into this new school year with a little bit of nostalgia. Makayla, my baby, will be starting Kindergarten tomorrow. Once she steps foot into the school system, there's no turning back. From one season to the next, she will continue to grow like a weed, just like the boys. It is all happening so fast.
The house will be so quiet tomorrow afternoon . . . what will I do with myself? I've got a few projects I've been wanting to work on. I have a feeling that Ginger and I will do just fine.
I take a look into Fall, and wonder . . . what will I be doing? Flipping burgers for McDonald's? Working for the President of the United States? Only the good Lord knows. My interview seemed to go well this morning (I'm practically a pro remember?) It is always so hard to tell. There was no math involved, so that was in my favor.
The interview was for a ministry position for a church in town. I am completely surrendered to God's will, so I can't say I have a preference either way. It has the words "ministry and work" in it, so it may very well be an answer to my prayers. Although, I have to say that I have my heart set on door number one - but that door is only open a crack. There will be no forcing it open. God alone will have to extend that invitation.
I found out today that I was not selected for door number two. Although it would have been a fantastic opportunity, it is probably for the best. The job was in Modesto, and it required some evening help. Mike Winther, the president of Institute for Principle Studies was looking to hire an Administrative Assistant. This is a non-profit organization, working to implement Biblical principles into our government and school systems, into our church policies and family dynamics. COWABUNGA!! I may not have gotten this job, but Mike will be hiring more people and he said he would look me up in the future. I truly believe that this man and his team will alter the course of history.
No altering the course of history for this girl. At least for now. But wait a minute. Something tells me that the decisions I make in the smaller things make more of a difference than the big moments. I am finding that the simple pleasures in life, the genuine relationships and my primary roles are richer than any "world movement". It is there, in the towel washing and the recipe reading that my Jesus and I do life together.
Flipping burgers is really not looking too bad, put in the context of being in God's will. Impacting the world doesn't mean holding a lofty title or impressing others with your resume. God is not impressed with any of that. He always looks at the heart.
Altering the course of history . . . are you a part of God's world movement? It is pretty simple stuff. The job description goes something like this: live genuinely, and love God and others with everything you have.
Sunday, August 5
Checked Off the List
I thought it would be fun to post my assignment on today's blog. I was able to check that off my list yesterday, and that felt great. I will not receive my instructor's comments for a couple of weeks - so be kind if you take the time to read it.
(By the way, another interview awaits me tomorrow morning. Who knows, maybe I will become a professional interviewee . . .)
“Whoever sells the most boxes of cookies will spend a weekend in New York City.”
Cassie knew that winning the contest meant she would get the chance to see her father. Since the divorce, Cassie had been missing those long afternoons fishing and puttering around in the garage. The Big Apple had been Cassandra’s home all her life before her mother moved the family to San Diego.
Cassie scribbled the thoughts in her diary. It had become her closest friend since the move. She recorded her deepest thoughts, her sadness over the move and all of her frustration over her older brother. He was her biggest annoyance.
Cassandra’s determination to win that contest wavered, however, when, the following day she saw Missy Cooper on the playground. Cassie managed to fake a smile. Of all the girls in her class, Missy was the most annoying. With her miss-matched clothes and terrible singing voice, Cassie didn’t like being anywhere near Missy. Choir practice had become almost unbearable. Cassandra decided that she would have nothing to do with “Freckle Face”. As far as she was concerned, their only connection would be a rivalry – for the win of that cookie contest.
After a few days of cookie selling, Cassie filled her water bottle and checked her order sheet before heading out on her bike. Selling one hundred and forty five boxes was something to smile about, but with rumor of Missy reaching one hundred fifty, Cassie had to keep moving.
With practically every house on the north side of town already hit, Cassie decided to secretly make a trip across the railroad tracks. She cringed with the thought of leaving the comfort and safety of her new neighborhood. She had been forced to accept so much change lately, that she felt weary of taking any more risks.
“See you later, Mom,” Cassie called. She began down the driveway, feeling guilty about her destination.
“Good luck - you’ll need it!” yelled her older brother from underneath the car.
“Dinner is at five,” replied her mother, who was pulling weeds out of the flowerbed. “Good luck Pumpkin!”
Pumpkin is what dad used to call me, Cassie mused.
A lump formed in her throat making it difficult to breathe. She began pedaling, hoping to make it back in time for dinner. Tears stung her eyes, as she ached for the well being of an unbroken home. Frustration caused her to push harder on the pedals. Before she knew it, she had crossed the tracks.
By now, Cassie’s legs were burning. She decided to begin on Fourth Street and make her way to Miller Avenue. The houses looked much smaller than the ones in her neighborhood. Old cars decorated the street. Furniture and junk lined the porches. Bars covered the doors and windows making the place seem uninviting.
As Cassie approached the first house, she saw a kennel full of puppies on the front porch. Cassie bent down to greet them. Their slobbery licks left a trace of puppy breath on her hands. Cassie made her way to the front door, and mustered courage to knock. What happened next sent a surge of confusion through her small frame.
There in the doorway of this broken down shack, stood Missy Cooper. With a melting ice cream cone in one hand and a wiggling puppy in the other Missy raised an eyebrow at the intruder.
“Well, look who’s here,” crooned Missy. “Trying to comb through my neighborhood I see. Well, it’s not going to work. I am determined to win that trip.”
Feeling exasperated, Cassie was silent. She turned to go, taking one more glance back at the nauseating view. As Cassie made her way back to her bike, she felt her face grow hot. Her bike was nowhere to be found. Panic struck her, and she saw a group of boys riding off with it, sending throws of laughter.
Missy had already closed the door, leaving enough privacy for the meltdown. Cassie collapsed into a heap and began to sob.
After a while, she peeked at her Girl Scout watch. It was getting late. Feeling hungry and alone Cassie began making her way home by foot. Her fear increased with every step. Dark clouds loomed overhead. Cassie wasn’t expecting rain, but the cloud burst moments later, mocking Cassie’s.
Streetlights like beacons led her the last half hour home. The dark night made the journey even more upsetting. She couldn’t remember ever feeling so lost. More than anything, she felt lost in her soul. By the time she got home, she was drenched. When she stepped through the door, her mother embraced her with tears of her own.
“Where have you been young lady?” Without waiting for an answer she cried, “I don’t ever want you to do that again!”
Cassie tried to explain, but she was too tired to sound convincing. She had no more fight left. Even her brother’s sarcastic comment didn’t faze her. After a warm bath and a plate full of cold dinner, Cassie slipped into her clean sheets and tried to pretend it had all been a terrible dream.
The next morning Cassie slinked into choir practice hoping not to be noticed. She pondered the afternoon before, when she stood at Missy’s door. Something about seeing Missy’s living conditions tugged at Cassandra’s heart. But the competition for cookie sales kept Cassie hardened. She tried to ignore the fact that Missy’s voice seemed a little less annoying that day.
After school, Cassandra waited out front for her mom. The dream of seeing her father was starting to dim behind the backdrop of defeat. She searched for her journal to write her feelings down, but it wasn’t in her backpack. Just then, a ticking sound caught Cassie’s attention. It was Missy driving up on a familiar set of wheels.
“Hey, that’s my bike.” Cassandra stated. “How in the world did you get it back?”
Missy smiled shyly, and started to explain. “Those boys who took it yesterday were my brothers. I got it back for you this morning before they woke up. I found your journal in the basket. Here, I thought it looked important.”
Cassandra gasped. Once again she found herself speechless.
“We may be opponents in this cookie contest, but us girls, we’ve got to stick together, you know.” Missy whispered.
Missy slipped off the seat and handed the bike to Cassie. She blew a gigantic bubble with her gum and skipped off. Once again, Cassie found herself endeared by her rival. This confused Cassie, giving her plenty to write down that night.
Weeks passed, and the dream of visiting New York kept Cassandra’s head in the clouds. The girls worked head to head, with only four or five boxes between them at each meeting.
The afternoon of the deadline, Cassie sat restlessly in a cluster of Girl Scouts. Families filled the seats in the auditorium. As the troop leader called for everyone’s attention, Cassie lowered her head. She wanted to disappear through the crack in the floor. It was one thing to lose to Missy Cooper, and quite another to be publicly humiliated.
Cassie decided to pretend she had to go to the bathroom. She stood up and began walking toward the foyer. “Our top cookie seller this year is . . . .” She couldn’t bear to hear another word. “The winner is Cassandra!” Cassie stopped dead in her tracks, and slowly turned. With unbelief, she made her way to the podium and glanced in Missy Cooper’s direction, only to discover a wink. Tears surfaced when she realized that she was really going home.
Feeling stunned, Cassandra accepted the envelope of tickets and made her way back to her seat. Moments later she felt the whisper of a familiar voice behind her. “I can’t believe you beat me by one box!”
Cassie giggled. She felt warm inside, sensing that Missy’s tone was a peaceful one. Cassie’s heart filled with a mix of uncertainty and delight. She turned to wink back at her new friend.
After the troop meeting, the girls spent the rest of the afternoon sharing their stories over hot fudge sundaes. After going over selling strategies and swapping annoying older brother stories, Missy interjected.
“I miss my Dad too,” Missy confessed. “I hope you will forgive me for peeking in your diary.”
A mix of things filled Cassandra’s heart. So much had happened in those few short weeks. She had moved to a new town, managed to get grounded for a week, lost and found her bike and discovered the greatest friend out of a rival. Of all the feelings she was experiencing in that moment, forgiveness managed to bubble to the surface.
“Don’t give it another thought.” Cassie replied. “Us girls, we have to stick together you know.”
(By the way, another interview awaits me tomorrow morning. Who knows, maybe I will become a professional interviewee . . .)
COOKIE CRUMBLES
When ten-year-old Cassandra heard her Girl Scout leader announce the challenge, she thought her heart would pound out of her chest:
When ten-year-old Cassandra heard her Girl Scout leader announce the challenge, she thought her heart would pound out of her chest:
“Whoever sells the most boxes of cookies will spend a weekend in New York City.”
Cassie knew that winning the contest meant she would get the chance to see her father. Since the divorce, Cassie had been missing those long afternoons fishing and puttering around in the garage. The Big Apple had been Cassandra’s home all her life before her mother moved the family to San Diego.
Cassie scribbled the thoughts in her diary. It had become her closest friend since the move. She recorded her deepest thoughts, her sadness over the move and all of her frustration over her older brother. He was her biggest annoyance.
Cassandra’s determination to win that contest wavered, however, when, the following day she saw Missy Cooper on the playground. Cassie managed to fake a smile. Of all the girls in her class, Missy was the most annoying. With her miss-matched clothes and terrible singing voice, Cassie didn’t like being anywhere near Missy. Choir practice had become almost unbearable. Cassandra decided that she would have nothing to do with “Freckle Face”. As far as she was concerned, their only connection would be a rivalry – for the win of that cookie contest.
After a few days of cookie selling, Cassie filled her water bottle and checked her order sheet before heading out on her bike. Selling one hundred and forty five boxes was something to smile about, but with rumor of Missy reaching one hundred fifty, Cassie had to keep moving.
With practically every house on the north side of town already hit, Cassie decided to secretly make a trip across the railroad tracks. She cringed with the thought of leaving the comfort and safety of her new neighborhood. She had been forced to accept so much change lately, that she felt weary of taking any more risks.
“See you later, Mom,” Cassie called. She began down the driveway, feeling guilty about her destination.
“Good luck - you’ll need it!” yelled her older brother from underneath the car.
“Dinner is at five,” replied her mother, who was pulling weeds out of the flowerbed. “Good luck Pumpkin!”
Pumpkin is what dad used to call me, Cassie mused.
A lump formed in her throat making it difficult to breathe. She began pedaling, hoping to make it back in time for dinner. Tears stung her eyes, as she ached for the well being of an unbroken home. Frustration caused her to push harder on the pedals. Before she knew it, she had crossed the tracks.
By now, Cassie’s legs were burning. She decided to begin on Fourth Street and make her way to Miller Avenue. The houses looked much smaller than the ones in her neighborhood. Old cars decorated the street. Furniture and junk lined the porches. Bars covered the doors and windows making the place seem uninviting.
As Cassie approached the first house, she saw a kennel full of puppies on the front porch. Cassie bent down to greet them. Their slobbery licks left a trace of puppy breath on her hands. Cassie made her way to the front door, and mustered courage to knock. What happened next sent a surge of confusion through her small frame.
There in the doorway of this broken down shack, stood Missy Cooper. With a melting ice cream cone in one hand and a wiggling puppy in the other Missy raised an eyebrow at the intruder.
“Well, look who’s here,” crooned Missy. “Trying to comb through my neighborhood I see. Well, it’s not going to work. I am determined to win that trip.”
Feeling exasperated, Cassie was silent. She turned to go, taking one more glance back at the nauseating view. As Cassie made her way back to her bike, she felt her face grow hot. Her bike was nowhere to be found. Panic struck her, and she saw a group of boys riding off with it, sending throws of laughter.
Missy had already closed the door, leaving enough privacy for the meltdown. Cassie collapsed into a heap and began to sob.
After a while, she peeked at her Girl Scout watch. It was getting late. Feeling hungry and alone Cassie began making her way home by foot. Her fear increased with every step. Dark clouds loomed overhead. Cassie wasn’t expecting rain, but the cloud burst moments later, mocking Cassie’s.
Streetlights like beacons led her the last half hour home. The dark night made the journey even more upsetting. She couldn’t remember ever feeling so lost. More than anything, she felt lost in her soul. By the time she got home, she was drenched. When she stepped through the door, her mother embraced her with tears of her own.
“Where have you been young lady?” Without waiting for an answer she cried, “I don’t ever want you to do that again!”
Cassie tried to explain, but she was too tired to sound convincing. She had no more fight left. Even her brother’s sarcastic comment didn’t faze her. After a warm bath and a plate full of cold dinner, Cassie slipped into her clean sheets and tried to pretend it had all been a terrible dream.
The next morning Cassie slinked into choir practice hoping not to be noticed. She pondered the afternoon before, when she stood at Missy’s door. Something about seeing Missy’s living conditions tugged at Cassandra’s heart. But the competition for cookie sales kept Cassie hardened. She tried to ignore the fact that Missy’s voice seemed a little less annoying that day.
After school, Cassandra waited out front for her mom. The dream of seeing her father was starting to dim behind the backdrop of defeat. She searched for her journal to write her feelings down, but it wasn’t in her backpack. Just then, a ticking sound caught Cassie’s attention. It was Missy driving up on a familiar set of wheels.
“Hey, that’s my bike.” Cassandra stated. “How in the world did you get it back?”
Missy smiled shyly, and started to explain. “Those boys who took it yesterday were my brothers. I got it back for you this morning before they woke up. I found your journal in the basket. Here, I thought it looked important.”
Cassandra gasped. Once again she found herself speechless.
“We may be opponents in this cookie contest, but us girls, we’ve got to stick together, you know.” Missy whispered.
Missy slipped off the seat and handed the bike to Cassie. She blew a gigantic bubble with her gum and skipped off. Once again, Cassie found herself endeared by her rival. This confused Cassie, giving her plenty to write down that night.
Weeks passed, and the dream of visiting New York kept Cassandra’s head in the clouds. The girls worked head to head, with only four or five boxes between them at each meeting.
The afternoon of the deadline, Cassie sat restlessly in a cluster of Girl Scouts. Families filled the seats in the auditorium. As the troop leader called for everyone’s attention, Cassie lowered her head. She wanted to disappear through the crack in the floor. It was one thing to lose to Missy Cooper, and quite another to be publicly humiliated.
Cassie decided to pretend she had to go to the bathroom. She stood up and began walking toward the foyer. “Our top cookie seller this year is . . . .” She couldn’t bear to hear another word. “The winner is Cassandra!” Cassie stopped dead in her tracks, and slowly turned. With unbelief, she made her way to the podium and glanced in Missy Cooper’s direction, only to discover a wink. Tears surfaced when she realized that she was really going home.
Feeling stunned, Cassandra accepted the envelope of tickets and made her way back to her seat. Moments later she felt the whisper of a familiar voice behind her. “I can’t believe you beat me by one box!”
Cassie giggled. She felt warm inside, sensing that Missy’s tone was a peaceful one. Cassie’s heart filled with a mix of uncertainty and delight. She turned to wink back at her new friend.
After the troop meeting, the girls spent the rest of the afternoon sharing their stories over hot fudge sundaes. After going over selling strategies and swapping annoying older brother stories, Missy interjected.
“I miss my Dad too,” Missy confessed. “I hope you will forgive me for peeking in your diary.”
A mix of things filled Cassandra’s heart. So much had happened in those few short weeks. She had moved to a new town, managed to get grounded for a week, lost and found her bike and discovered the greatest friend out of a rival. Of all the feelings she was experiencing in that moment, forgiveness managed to bubble to the surface.
“Don’t give it another thought.” Cassie replied. “Us girls, we have to stick together you know.”
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