peelosophy

My thoughts are all over the place today.  I have more than the usual amount of free time today which always makes my head spin.  Here is a sampling of things going through my head throughout the day…

- Why did we sign JJ up for soccer camp in the middle of July from 5-6:30pm?

- Is it just a coincidence that Aunt Ann sent us a “really good” deal on a house in West County and I have been reading through Jonah?

- My house has been unusually clean for more than 24 hours – what am I doing or not doing?

- I love JJ but I really don’t want to sit in the heat tonight.

- For a second, considered parallels between West County and Nineveh.

- Thinking my clean house is a result of JJ helping out more and us being out of the house more lately.

- Considering for a minute that a NachoMama’s Drive-Thru margarita can be on the way to soccer tonight.

- Realizing and admitting to myself that I am a huge zip code snob.

- Summing up…..I’m praising God for a clean house today, vowing NOT to sign up the kids for any evening camps in the heat of summer next year and letting God in on the fact that it’s going to take a whale for us to consider West County.

In junior high I transferred from a private all-girl school to a public co-ed school. That is a heck of a transition for a junior high girl!

By God’ grace, I became instant friends with a group of girls, of which most of them also had transferred from all girl schools. We were called The 6-Pack because their were 6 of us and we were inseparable. I don’t know if this name was given to us or if self-proclaimed, but it was junior high – if you had a place or a name where you fit in – it was half the battle.

I’ve been thinking of my junior high 6-pack lately, especially when I stop and realize that we are now a family of 6. Even writing that,  it is crazy to me. Don’t get me wrong, we wanted a big family and I’m from a family of 6 — this should not be that crazy to me!

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Remember those Garfield comics?  What I remember the most about them was that Garfield hated Mondays.

Or what about The Bangles song Manic Mondays..love that song – but I can’t relate.

And then there’s, T.G.I.F., don’t get me wrong, I do like Fridays – but Monday is one of my most favorite days of the week…

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I recently read about a man being described being on a “passionate quest for the real whole-wheat Bread of Life”.  As a mom that tries to read labels, what struck me was the adjective “whole wheat”.   To me, whole-wheat means it’s the real deal, the best nutrition-wise and what I should be feeding my kids.  I never heard of the Bread of Life/Jesus explained like this and it made me question, “What kind of Bread of Life am I partaking in every day?  is it 100% Whole Wheat? or is it Wonder White? or somewhere in between?”

Then I got carried away with the illustration in my head.  I decided that I wasn’t getting 100% Whole Wheat Bread of Life daily because of all the “preservatives” I fill my life up with instead – all the busyness that occupies my hands and my head all day.  Some necessary, but some that I could definitely put off.  These preservatives are tricky. Like with bread, they help it not to spoil, they extend the bread’s life, but not without nutritional costs.  For me, my preservative is busyness. I use it to make me feel in control for a while, but it also has a nutritional costs – it creates a barrier between me and God.  And, with my self-induced preservatives I can’t get the 100%WWBOL. (Whole Wheat Bread of Life)

I could go on with what was going on in my head about bread and Jesus, the parallels between high fructose corn syrup or what it means when you cut the crusts off the bread.  But, I’ll spare you the the crazy that comes from the internal committee in my head.

I’m trying to understand how the fact that God gives me the choice about where He is in my life- He is offering me 100% Whole Wheat (Ephesians 3:19)- but I choose through my excuses/busyness the lesser.  How do I flip that – I don’t know quite yet, but I’ll let you know if I figure it out.

note: the one thing I couldn’t draw a parallel to is why does PBJ taste SO much better on white bread?