He Really is Sick

As it turns out, my middle kid isn't faking it. It took q raging fever and scrawny patheticness to finally convince me, but luckily I didn't force him to go to school yesterday and prove he was guilty till proven innocent. Now, with the ibuprofen reprieve he is feeling well enough to bug me about wanting to play computer games. It inconveniences me that my children are now old enough to want to share my stuff. I guess I should embrace their burgeoning knowledge of all things electronic because soon I can go to them about all my technological questions.

Yesterday I made 'caca cookies'. Caca is the term we use in our house for defecation. I never liked the words 'poo-poo' or other euphamisms, so I went back to my Mexican roots for a good old Spanglish word to describe human waste. The cookies were my way of compromising with my husband about giving our kids metamucil. I was staunchly opposed and he thought it was an excellent way to cure kiddie constipation. So, I made chocolate cookies with that fiber cereal that resembles small twigs. The problem is that they taste so good that we might have the opposite problem soon.

I must go because my kids are pestering me to play their games. I leave you with this poem that read yesterday....


The Road of Life

At first, I saw God as my observer,
my judge,
keeping track of the things I did wrong,
so as to know whether I merited heaven
or hell when I die.
He was out there sort of like a president.
I recognized His picture when I saw it,
but I really didn't know Him.

But later on
when I met Christ,
it seemed as though life was rather like a bike ride,
but it was a tandem bike,
and I noticed that Christ
was in the back helping me pedal.

I don't know just when it was
that He suggested we change places,
but life has not been the same since.

When I had control,
I knew the way.
It was rather boring,
but predictable . . .
It was the shortest distance between two points.

But when He took the lead,
He knew delightful long cuts,
up mountains,
and through rocky places
at breakneck speeds,
it was all I could do to hang on!
Even though it looked like madness,
He said, "Pedal!"

I worried and was anxious
and asked,
"Where are you taking me?"
He laughed and didn't answer,
and I started to learn to trust.

I forgot my boring life
and entered into the adventure.
And when I'd say, "I'm scared,"
He'd lean back and touch my hand.

He took me to people with gifts that I needed,
gifts of healing,
acceptance
and joy.
They gave me gifts to take on my journey,
my Lord's and mine.

And we were off again.
He said, "Give the gifts away;
they're extra baggage, too much weight."
So I did,
to the people we met,
and I found that in giving I received,
and still our burden was light.

I did not trust Him,
at first,
in control of my life.
I thought He'd wreck it;
but He knows bike secrets,
knows how to make it bend to take sharp corners,
knows how to jump to clear high rocks,
knows how to fly to shorten scary passages.

And I am learning to shut up
and pedal
in the strangest places,
and I'm beginning to enjoy the view
and the cool breeze on my face
with my delightful constant companion, Jesus Christ.

And when I'm sure I just can't do anymore,
He just smiles and says . . . "Pedal."

-- author unknown