Life is Messy

I wish someone had told me that when I was young. "Diane, life can get messy sometimes. People can be weird. Situations can get ugly. Learn to deal with it." Chances are, if someone had tried, I would have scrunched up my face, gave them a confused "huh?" and gone on my merry way. When you're eight or ten or twelve, who cares about that stuff! Unfortunately, it's one of those life lessons you have to learn as you go.

Fast forward to mid-life and around every corner there seems to be a mess. Big ones. Little ones. Ones you can avoid fairly easy. Those you can't no matter how hard you try.

Lately, I seem to step into these messes every time I turn around, and the insuing stench of what I've stepped in as it hits the fan lingers for days and weeks and months. I feel like I'm trying to give birth to an ulcer and my headaches are constant. Why is that? And why can't I seem to just blow them off like I used to? Perhaps it's maturity finally seeping into my bones. Then again, maybe it's the opposite. Maybe I'm to the point in my life when, like that great line from the movie Network, "I'm mad as hell and I'm not gonna take it anymore!" I'm tired of slithering away from conflict simply because I despise confrontation!

Don't get me wrong. I truly, truly despise conflict and confrontation. It's not in my nature to enjoy the fight and constant contention. Not at all. But I'm smart enough to know it's unavoidable unless you live in a secluded cabin in the Rockies somewhere, cut off from all civilization. Which, for the record, appeals to me more and more every day now.

With even the best of friends comes conflict. It's inevitable. But it's what to do about it that gets totally weird sometimes. "Can't we just agree to disagree?" Yeah, that's the ticket! Sometimes I feel like branding those six words on my forehead. Because even amongst those dearest of friends or family, we won't always agree on every subject in the universe. And isn't that okay?

Yet as I get older and perhaps crankier with each passing year, I'm just tired of having to cave on certain subjects. If someone's trying to manipulate me or take advantage of me, I'm not as willing to just lie down and take it anymore. I am SO over letting people walk all over me for the sake of keeping the peace. According to personality surveys I've taken over the years, I'm a sanguine. That means I want us all to get along! But my sanguinity (yes, I made that up) is worn out and weary after years of abuse.

Unfortunately, I don't have much experience in handling these situations, so I either (a) get tongue-tied and flustered, totally incapable of expressing myself; or (b) explode in a rash of unkind, often sarcastic barbs that I later regret and must apologize for.

What about that whole "turn the other cheek" concept taught to us in scripture? I did some research on that very subject and learned that the reference has more to do with accepting an insult (offering your other cheek for a backhanded slap) than merely taking abuse. The verse in Matthew 5:39 reads, "But I tell you, do not resist an evil person. If someone strikes you on the right cheek, turn to him the other also." Picture that. If someone slaps you on the right cheek, the only way he/she can slap you on the other cheek would be to backhand you, which represents an insult. Its intention is to humiliate, shame or belittle. And Jesus wanted to teach us that our dignity comes not from others but from Him. Hitting back only lowers you to the offender's level.

But that doesn't mean you can't stand up for what you know is right. In my case, I'm realizing I need to learn how to do that better without letting my emotions carry me away. State my case, stand firm, but not go on the attack because I've been taken advantage of or challenged. When someone tries to manipulate me, I need to keep my cool, let them know I will not cave to their manipulations, and move on. It's not always easy, but I'm learning.

What about you? How do you handle life's messes? How do you handle those who willingly create conflict and confrontation in your life?

Amusing Ourselves to Death

There's actually a book by that name, though I admit I've never read it. But the title has stuck with me for years, and from time to time, I find myself lamenting those very words. We are indeed a culture that seems bent on amusing ourselves to death. As technology unveils more and more devices for our entertainment, it seems our appetite for them - and for untold hours of distraction their new and improved capabilities enable us - seems insatiable.

And to think that book came out long before reality TV or iPads.

Don't get me wrong. I love that technology is making the world around us as accessible as the touch of a screen. I love that my friend's son Scott, who's stationed with the Army in Qatar, can Skype 24/7 with his new bride back home in Texas. I love that my daughter could tap into GPS on her iPhone when we got lost on a recent road trip and immediately get us back on the right road. I love the concept of reading any book on the planet by simply downloading it into a Kindle or some other such device. (Though I'm personally a hopeless die-hard for having book-in-hand when I curl up to read at night.) I also love that we can watch new movies OnDemand on our home television or computer screen with the press of a button. Who needs a trip to the video store? And I do love the idea of keeping in touch better with friends and family via Facebook and Twitter. How fun to reconnect with folks I haven't seen since we were kids!

But I also miss my life. You know - the one when I had time to call my own.

The one when I wasn't constantly hearing the familiar tone on my cell phone letting me know I'd received a text message. (Something urgent? Usually not.) Or the one without hundreds of emails bombarding my inbox. (And that's a totally spam-free account!) Sometimes I could swear I hear them screaming "READ ME! READ ME!"

When did this happen? Or perhaps the better question is, when did I LET this happen?

And let's be honest. We justify the umblical chord of these gadgets because we "need" to stay in touch. We "need" to know what's going on. Riiiiiight. But the truth is, they're often just glorified electronic games. Do I really need to "retweet" the fact that Susie just found a killer bargain on kumquats at Whole Foods? Will life go on as we know it if I don't read all 125 of my friends' blogs the minute they're posted? Or am I subconciously just "playing the game" of Who's Where, Who's Life is More Interesting & Important, or Who's Got the Most Friends?

I contend it's probably all just masquerading as electronic entertainment. Right up there with the endless garbage that's parading across our flat-

screen, HD TVs day in and day out. Seriously, people, how many bachelor and bachelorette shows do you need to watch before you realize NONE of them stay together? How many talent shows do we really need, especially after a blockbuster season of American Idol when no one can even remember who won last year? And are we really so desperate we turn to shows like WipeOut, which pits contestants against each other in ridiculous obstacles courses (mud tanks anyone?) I mean, do we miss junior high that much? And to think, back in the olden days, we gasped when contestants on Fear Factor were made to eat life cockroaches! Oh, how far we've come.

It does make you wonder. Are we really that bored? Is real life so horrible that we opt to waste hundreds of hours plopped in front of this kind of mindless programming? Then again, what do I know? Once upon a time those living in the Roman empire used to flock to the Coliseum by the thousands to watch lions rip apart Christians. All under the guise of "entertainment."

Might I suggest we learn from their mistakes? As I recall the aforementioned Roman empire fell mightily, never to recover.

Just sayin . . .

Happy Birthday, Dad!

It's awfully late, but I can't let the day slip away without wishing my dad a happy 87th! That's him (right) a couple years ago with our Darby when she was just a puppy. Dad's never been much of a dog lover, but she's got him wrapped around her little paw!

I'm mighty proud of my father. He's lived a wonderful life since that July 17th in 1923 when his parents, Lee & Betty Hale, first welcomed him into their arms. His two older brothers, Harold & Ralph, were no doubt thrilled to have a new little guy to pick on!

This morning I told him I was wondering what Chicago was like that summer day when he was born. Probably pretty hot, as those were days long before air conditioning! That year, his beloved Cubs had more wins than losses (83/71) but it wasn't a great season. Not that little Glenn Hale would have known!

As most of you know, Dad served in WWII as a B-17 co-pilot in the Eighth Air Force. Those years made a tremendous impression on him, and to this day he can tell you where he was on any given day back in 1944-45. He was so proud to be able to serve his country. And if you want to see him get riled up, just mention how our freedoms are being eroded by the nitwits in Washington . . . but let's not go THERE on his birthday!

Dad graduated from the University of Iowa, compliments of the GI Bill, and that's where he met a co-ed from Texas named Anita Hale on a blind date. Yep. Same last name, but no relation. They were married for more than 58 years before Dad lost the love of his life to cancer in 2007. Oh my, what a legacy of love they gave us!

Dad moved to Nashville after Mom died to be closer to us and to my sister and her family. He has a home in Harpeth Meadows, a beautiful retirement community in Bellevue. That's him the first year he lived there, proud as punch of that gorgeous red tree out front!

Today we celebrated his 87th at Red Lobster. We enjoyed reminiscing with him, hearing stories of his childhood and a few favorite birthday memories, including a family feast in his honor when he first got back from the war in '45. I sat across the table and looked at this man who could easily pass for someone much, much younger, and marvel at his good health. He's got a way more active social life than I do! And loves every minute of it.

God has been so good to Glenn Hale. And oh, what a blessing he is to all of us.

Happy Birthday, Daddy! We love you!

The Pigs Are Flying! My Books Are Here!

For years I've dreamed of being a published author and opening that first box filled with books with my name on them. Well, I'm happy to say that day was TODAY!!! My very first copies of Confessions of a Prayer Slacker arrived this morning! And opening that box truly was every bit as exciting as I'd hoped it would be. Similar to holding my babies for the first time after they were born (albeit a totally different realm of course!) Except this birthing process took waaaaaaay longer . . . thankfully, however, I had no stretch marks this time around! Just sheer, unbridled joy at this astounding creation I now hold in my hands - a book God consistently nudged me to write about my journey to finally get serious about my prayer life and my relationship with Him. I'm still pinching myself to believe it's really happening!

I wasn't expecting the books for a couple of weeks yet since they don't officially release until August 2nd. But this morning, Ken noticed the UPS man leaving a package on our front porch, so he snuck out there, grabbed the box, then tip-toed into my office to surprise me. We both squealed like a couple of kids, jumping up and down, laughing, crying, hugging (did I mention there was squealing?) - all while he was still holding this humongous 36 pound box of books!

It's funny the things you think about at times like this. For me, I couldn't help thinking of my mother who's now with the Lord. Mom was an author too, and I know how proud she would have been. Whenever Mom got choked up (as she so often did), her little chin wobbled like crazy. We used to tease her unmercifully about that trembling chin, one of her most lovable trademarks! I can only imagine the wobble-factor is off the charts if she's looking down on me today.

 I also remembered the time my YaYa Sistahs and I had our first weekend getaway at a bed & breakfast in Columbia, Georgia. The staff served us breakfast in our room that morning, setting up a table in front of the fireplace. Over eggs and bacon, croissant rolls, and steaming coffee, we had a precious time of sharing our dreams. Mine was to be a published author. And I distinctly remember that morning as the first time I really believed it was possible for that dream to come true - all because my YaYa's believed in me even more than I believed in myself.

I also thought of all the times Ken has encouraged me to follow this dream. It's been almost 20 years since I started seriously pursuing this author gig, though I've always loved to write. I've lost track of the multitude of rejections I've received through the years, and you don't even want to know how much money I've spent going to writers' conferences and buying books on getting published. But he was always supportive. And then there were the hours upon hours of story brainstorming he'd do with me. We've had a blast working together on plot ideas through the years. He has been the most amazing cheerleader, through all the ups and downs of this journey, and I would never have made it without him. Which is why I dedicated my first book to him. He had never seen my dedication until the books were delivered this morning. It reads "To Ken - Have I told you today how much I love you?" (one of those mushy things we say to each other all the time.) I loved showing that special page to him!

There's a whole boatload of marketing and promotions in the weeks and months ahead - all of them way out of my comfort zone, I assure you! But for now I'm going to bask in the joy of the moment, drool a little over the gorgeous book cover designed by our daughter Hannah . . . and spend some time on my knees, thanking God for making dreams come true.

Friends who know me, know I've been collecting flying pigs for several years. Yesterday, my incredibly sweet friend Sue Manginelli gave me the cutest little glass-blown pig with wings to help celebrate my upcoming book release. (He's the tiny little guy sitting on the book on the right.) I was blown away, because she knows I always figured I'd get published . . . "when pigs fly!" Well, my friends, today the pigs are a-flyin'!!!

Well Done, Good & Faithful Servant

Yesterday we had the privilege of helping celebrate the retirement of a beloved pastor and friend, Tom Tyndall. After 40 years of ministry, Tom is turning a new page in his life and leaving his present position as associate pastor of our church, Cross Point Community, in Nashville.

To know Tom Tyndall is to love him. We first met the white-haired reverend when we joined CP about six years ago. He was the third staff member hired by Pete Wilson, our pastor, as they launched this amazing church. God couldn't have put together a better team - the wise, elder pastor with 30-something years of experience and a heart for people the size of his beloved Florida . . . and the young, energetic church planter, burning with ideas for a new way to "do church." This odd couple formed the perfect compliment, and now - four campuses later - CP is a thriving community of believers spread across the greater Nashville area.

In his remarks yesterday, Tom reflected on his past history in the ministry. He said he's done it all - "high church, low church, and no church" (the last, referencing a church with just seven members which he "grew to five" before he left!) We enjoyed a hilarious video that included pictures of Tom in his "high church" regalia, including the black robes of his days in the Presbyterian persuasion - a far cry from his more recent laid-back blue jean era at CP! Also included were pictures of the family he loves so much - kids and grandkids - and the love of his life, his beautiful wife Betty.

Some pastors are great preachers and orators. Others are phenomenal Bible scholars and teachers. Some are highly gifted in areas of administration and leadership. Still others have hearts burdened for the lost, their calendars filled with overseas missions trips. The best pastors have a combination of all of the above - and one more. In my own personal opinion, the defining characteristic of a great pastor is that of shepherd. One who loves and nurtures the flock. To me, Tom Tyndall is a perfect example of what Jesus intended when He instructed Peter to "tend my sheep" (John 21:17). Tom would quickly brush off any such praise using his trademark quirky sense of humor. But that's just because he's also extremely humble. He has tended us well, and we are forever changed because of him.

Two years ago I was in Tulsa at the beside of my mother who was dying. That week, I received  numerous calls from Tom checking up on me, praying for my mother and my family, and offering such profound comfort across the miles. For those closer to home, over and over I've heard about the countless times Tom was the first one to the ER or surgery waiting rooms - sometimes even before family arrived - when someone was in need. He's been there - "Jesus with skin on" - in the darkest hours, ministering with kind compassion and heartfelt prayers.

At the risk of a post so long, only the die-hards would ever finish it, I'll conclude by saying it's been a privilege to be a member of Tom's "flock" these past few years. Tom and Betty, Ken and I wish you nothing but happiness as you start this new chapter in your lives. We wish you continued good health as you enjoy well-earned time with your family and your trains, a chance to travel and speak . . . But more than anything, we wish you God's richest blessings as you have so richly blessed all who have known you - including us!

Au revoir, arrivederci, hasta la vista, and of course - LATER GATOR!!!

Summer Reading

I may hate the heat of summer, but there's nothing I love more than a good book to read on a hot summer's day. Indoors, that is. With air conditioning. Not that I'm fussy or anything. I've been on quite a roll lately, thrilled with some of the treasures I've discovered. The first two were gifts from Barbara Bouton, my daughter's mother-in-law - and my friend! I devoured both of them and can't wait to tell you about them.

EXPECTING ADAM - by Martha Beck. WOW! This book was such an unexpected pleasure. You might think a memoir by a young mother who's pregnant with a Down Syndrome child would not be a fun read, but you'd be oh-so-wrong in this case. I LOVED Martha Beck's writing, her sense of humor, her out-of-body experiences (seriously!), her honest analysis of Harvard University and the mindset of her peers there . . . and her transparency as she faced doing life with what others so crassly labeled a "retarded" child. For the record, I must admit I don't agree with her views on abortion, though I grieve for anyone who faces that kind of heart-breaking dilemma. I applaud her for deciding to keep her baby despite the avalanche of those who thought she was insane NOT to abort. This amazing story taught me so many beautiful lessons about the true values that matter most in life. By the time Adam arrived, I was head over heels with the little guy! Don't miss this one!

THE GLASS CASTLE - by Jeanette Walls, a successful New York writer who covers the celebrity beat, also a contributor to MSNBC. Leaving her Park Avenue apartment one night, she says, "I was sitting in a taxi, wondering if I had overdressed for the evening, when I looked out the window and saw Mom rooting through a dumpster." Quite a captivating first sentence, isn't it? This is a fascinating true memoir of a child raised in a quirky, dysfunctional family living in utter poverty most of their lives. At times you can't believe any parents could be so screwed up. At other times you can't believe how resilient Jeannette and her siblings were, growing up with a brilliant, though perpetually drunk father and a totally free-spirited mother. I know it sounds like a sad tale, but it is such a beautifully written story and one you will never forget. I've actually read this book before but I have to say, I enjoyed it way more the second time around! I consider it one of my all-time favorites!

PLAN B - by Pete Wilson, my pastor! That said, I know I'm extremely partial, but this is a phenomenal book that belongs on everyone's must-read list this summer. The subtitle of Pete's book is "What Do You Do When God Doesn't Show Up the Way You Thought He Would?" We've all been there. In the midst of living our lives, only to find our plans obliterated or our dreams shattered. What do you do? Most of us don't handle it well, even if we consider ourselves believers. Pete helps show us a better way through those difficult times, by helping us move beyond the panic and fear to see God in our circumstances, to overcome doubt and find hope again. I purposefully took my time reading Plan B, studying it as part of my daily time with the Lord. What a blessing! I encourage yourself to do the same.

SEASONS IN THE MIST - by Deborah Kinnard. And who doesn't love a good time-travel story! I thoroughly enjoyed the adventure of medieval historian Bethany Lindstrom's accidental visit to 14th century Cornwall, England. Deb's knowledge of this intriguing time period shines through her compelling story, her descriptions bringing it all to a startling reality. Each page draws you deeper into the plot and keeps you wondering how Bethany will ever get back to 21st century America. Packed full of history, romance and adventure, Seasons in the Mist is a perfect summer read. I invite you to take a trip back through Bethany's portal into a story you'll thoroughly enjoy.

WHISPERS OF THE BAYOU - by Mindy Starns Clark. I can't BEGIN to tell you how much I loved this novel! Believe it or not, I picked this one up at a book sale at our local library the day the floods hit Nashville. (Which doesn't really matter - just thought I'd tell you how I found it!) The story is about Miranda Miller, a successful art restorer at a Manhattan museum who finds herself swept back to the mysteries of her childhood at her grandparents' antebellum estate near New Orleans. The first five years of her life, erased entirely from her memory, hold secrets she's forced to uncover as she pieces together her hidden past. There were so many twists and turns I never saw coming in this story - which thrills me as a reader! I also learned so much about the history of Cajuns. Absolutely LOVED this book and immediately ordered two more in this series.

Now it's your turn! What have you been reading lately?

It's Hotter 'n Hades Out Thar!

WHINE ALERT: This blogger is on a heated rampage!

I'm now in my (ahem) mid-50s and it just dawned on me that I HATE SUMMER! Gone are the days of my childhood when summer meant a long break from school, spending days at the swimming pool and hanging with my friends. How well I remember those foolish months spent working on my tan (not an easy task for a redhead!), getting more sunburns than I care to remember, doing my best (albeit stupidly) to summon the future skin cancer gods. But there we were, slathered up in baby oil mixed with drops of iodine for extra tanning; hair doused with Sun-In for those "natural" highlights . . . broiling under the hot sun like a bunch of chickens roasting on the grill. Ah, the bliss of ignorance.

But now, after all these years, I've realized how much I despise heat. Especially when the air is dripping with humidity. I grew up in Oklahoma where the wind wasn't the only thing that came sweepin' down the plain. Summers blistered in Tulsa and yes, we could fry eggs on the sidewalk. The humidity was intense. Then I got married and ended up in Florida for almost 15 years. OH. MY. GOSH. I remember our first event at the First Baptist Church of Naples, the church that had just called my husband as youth pastor. We arrived the end of May, just in time for the annual church picnic. Now this was back in 1984, and church staff members just did NOT wear shorts. Ever. But yours truly was dumb enough to wear HOSE under my slacks! (In all fairness, I had just gone through a miscarriage and I wasn't yet in my right mind . . .) But HOSE? In that sweltering southern Florida heat?! Suffice it to say, a good time was NOT had by all. I was miserable!

But I'd always wanted to live near the beach, and at first I loved living in Florida. Eventually, however, the enduring killer heat that is a constant in the Sunshine State just got to me. Two, maybe three months out of the year we had some cooler temps. I couldn't handle it. I was so thrilled the day we finally got to move to Tennessee. Back to NORMAL weather, baby!

We've now been here in middle Tennessee for 11 years. We discovered early on that summer is pleasant up until July 4th, then stays pretty darn hot until mid-September. But we just learned to stay indoors and crank up the AC.

But this year . . . holy hot potatoes, Batman! It's unbearable out there! I went out to water my flowers the other morning, and I was drenched by the time I was done. Had to come inside and take another shower!

And that's when I realized: I HATE SUMMER. I really do! We're all wired differently, right? Well, pparently heat affects my whole being in quite a negative way. Puts me in a funk. Wears me out. Makes me whine and rant and rave, and run the socks off our AC. I can't stand being hot and sticky and sweaty. It makes me CRAZY! (Can you tell?)

Give me the cool breezes of early spring or late fall, or better yet - the icy cold of winter! A blast of polar air - that's the ticket! And oh, how I love SNOW! Maybe I should move to Montana. Or Colorado. Or here's a thought - I could boot out that journalist who moved in next to Sarah Palin up in Wasilla, and become an Alaskan. Hey, I'll take blizzards ANY day over the burning hot days of summer.

So now you know. If I seem a little wacky between now and October, you'll know why. Just humor me. I'll get through it. How about you? Are you a Summer Soul or a Winter Wonder?