Полная версия
Sahm I Am
“Well, thank you,” I tell her.
She takes one more hard look at my outfit and smiles sweetly. “You must just like to wear BIG clothes, that’s all!” Then one parting hug, and off she goes, radiating joy, peace and love to all. (Seriously, guys, despite the bad foot-in-mouth disorder, she’s a really sweet person.)
Sometimes, you just gotta wear your “all-you-can-laugh” outfit—because it’s the only one that nothing will stick to. :)
Cheers,
Dulcie
From: Zelia Muzuwa
Dulcie, I admire your forgiving spirit, and your ability to see the good in her despite her faults. However, the next time she’s about to nibble her toes, you need to hold up your church bulletin and use the following quote from you-know-who: “Shut your mouth, dame, or with this paper shall I stop it.”
Z
From: Rosalyn Ebberly
<“Shut your mouth, dame, or with this paper shall I stop it.”>
I should hope no one would EVER say something like that to a PASTOR’S WIFE! Being married to a pastor is in itself a high calling, and these women deserve to be shown the respect and honor due to them for their love and support for the men appointed by God to be our spiritual leaders. Maybe this woman is gently trying to guide Dulcie into making better health and fashion choices. Remember, my friends, the meek shall inherit the earth.
Yours,
Rosalyn
“She looks well to the ways of her household, and does not eat the bread of idleness.”
Proverbs 31:27 (NASB)
From: P. Lorimer
Rosalyn, With all due respect to your position as Loop moderator, I would like to express my strong disagreement to your thoughts. I AM a pastor’s wife, and, if I had a habit of humiliating my fellow sisters in Christ without realizing it, I would definitely want someone to tell me to “Shut your mouth, dame.” (Great Shakespeare quote, Zelia. Let’s talk Bard later, okay? My master’s degree is in early modern English literature. I bet I can match you quote for quote.)
I don’t believe that my calling is any higher than anyone else’s. I didn’t hear a voice in thunder tell me to “Go marry Jonathan Lorimer, for he is going to be a pastor.” I went on a blind date with the guy, thought he was extremely attractive, and fell madly in love with him before I even knew what his career goals were.
Furthermore, we aren’t even remotely close to being saintly. When we met, both of us were very lonely, and neither of us had much dating experience. We felt an instant rapport intellectually and emotionally, and it didn’t take long for us to connect physically, too—only two months. Our daughter, Julia, was five months old at our wedding.
We repented and kept our relationship pure from that time on, but Jonathan struggled with whether or not to still become a pastor. His own pastor was the one who showed him that sin is sin, and people are people—none are better or worse than any others.
So please don’t put us up on pedestals. There are none righteous, no, not one. Only Christ.
Your friend,
Phyllis Lorimer
From: Rosalyn EbberlyDear, sweet Phyllis, and friends,
I think perhaps my e-mail may have been misunderstood. I certainly wouldn’t want anyone to think I believe pastors’ wives to be somehow more spiritual than the rest of us. I only meant to say that we shouldn’t speak with disrespect to ANYBODY—no matter what their position is.
Phyllis, thank you for being SO vulnerable and sharing your heart with us regarding your past sins. It made me more grateful than ever that I chose to have a pure relationship with my husband. I’m sure your choices have produced negative emotional baggage Chad and I will never have to worry about. What a blessing!
Have a blessed evening, everyone!
Rosalyn
From: VIM
Oh, Ros, I got me married to the most romantic man! He surprised me yesterday, for no reason at all, with a trip to the most exclusive, elegant day spa in Houston. I swan, you coulda knocked me down with a feather! I spent an entire ten hours surrounded by luxury, being pampered and cared for, while he took the kids to the zoo and a movie. He said he’d been fixing to do it before the wedding, but we planned it so quick, there wasn’t time. I wish you could experience something so relaxing and refreshing—I can tell you could really use it, you tuckered out sweet thing. It’s just too bad Chad can’t afford it. Living on one salary must be so hard. But there ya go.
Ronnie
From: Rosalyn Ebberly
Good morning, all you Beautiful Brides,
Happy Labor Day! It’s a glorious 5 a.m. here in Washington, and I just returned from my two-mile jog. I noticed the apples are looking ripe, and I imagine the next few weekends will be open for apple-picking. I’m running a few minutes behind schedule already, so I can’t write much. (Need to finish my Bible study before fixing Chad’s breakfast—I promised to make homemade whole-wheat Belgian waffles, complete with fresh whipped cream and a raspberry glaze. And strawberry-banana fruit smoothies, too, since he has the day off.) But I wanted to get this week’s topic to you as quickly as possible.
Since it’s apple time, I thought it would be fun to create a SAHM I Am list of Creative Ways to Use Apples. So send in your best recipes, craft ideas, school lessons—anything to do with apples. After this week, I’ll compile all the results and post them in a single file on our loop Web site. I’m going to e-mail my contribution later: Romantic and Refreshing Apple Spa—including soap, candles, candle holders, bubble bath and facial mask, all made from APPLES! You won’t want to miss it!
You girls are the “apples” of my eye,
Rosalyn Ebberly
SAHM I Am Loop Moderator
“She looks well to the ways of her household, and does not eat the bread of idleness.”
Proverbs 31:27 (NASB)
From: Brenna L.
No fair—she stole my idea! :)
Brenna
From: Zelia Muzuwa
Guess you gotta get up earlier, Brenna. You slacker. :)
Z
From: Brenna L.Callin’ me a slacker, are you? I’ll have you know I gave the bucket calf a bottle, fed the dog, fixed breakfast AND made Madeline’s lunch before Ms. Ebberly even opened her eyes this morning. :) Labor Day, indeed!
Brenna
From: Zelia Muzuwa
Hah! Well, I took Griffith potty, got Seamus and Cosette dressed, helped Tristan with breakfast, put the dishes in the dishwasher, kissed Tristan good morning (hey, it took us a while, okay?), threw a load of towels in the washing machine, stopped Seamus from teasing Cosette, cleaned up Griffith’s potty accident, read my e-mail, talked to my mother on the phone, ran back down to the basement to START the washing machine, stopped Seamus from teasing Cosette, took Griffith potty, checked my e-mail again, talked to my mother-in-law from England on the phone, stopped Seamus from teasing Cosette, set Seamus in the corner, told Griffith to take himself to the potty, put his wet pants to soak in the sink, sat down to eat my breakfast (my Marshmallow Crunchies were soggy by this time), stopped Cosette from gloating over Seamus-in-the-corner AND helped Griffith (he fell in the toilet.) ALL BEFORE EITHER YOU OR ROSALYN SAW THE LIGHT OF DAY!
Now I need to go get dressed and fix lunch. It’s been a very productive morning.
Z
From: Brenna L.
…but it does help that you live in the Eastern time zone. :)
Brenna
From: The Millards
Not so fast, Z. Where’s Tristan in all this? Doesn’t he get the day off?
Jocelyn
From: Zelia Muzuwa
I’ll confess—he was helping me with a lot of that this morning. But he also took the car in for an oil change and alphabetized our home library. He likes doing stuff like that.
Z
From: The Millards
Then I say Brenna won anyway, because I’ll bet NOBODY at their house is getting a day off—are they, Bren?
Jocelyn
From: Zelia Muzuwa
No fair—you’re pulling out the “pity the hardworking farmer” card on me! I can’t help it if my husband is a CPA. And a drop-dead gorgeous one, at that…
Z
From: Brenna L.
Thanks, Jocelyn! Z, we’ll pity you during tax season—that’s our slow time on the farm anyway. Now do you feel better? Brenna
From: Zelia Muzuwa
…but come January, I expect LOTS of sympathy!
Z
From: Brenna L.
Hey gals,
Would it be okay for me to invite Phyllis to chat with us tonight? You know—she’s the pastor’s wife that likes Z’s Shakespeare quotes? We’ve been e-mailing off and on all day today—it started because I wrote to tell her I could relate to her story about getting pregnant before marriage. And I was upset with Rosalyn’s reaction to it. But Phyllis is really sweet, and she seems lonely. She told me she doesn’t really fit in with any of the women in her church. They treat her differently because she’s the pastor’s wife. Plus, she’s only 27 and everyone else is decades older. Dulcie, you’d be able to relate to her because her husband is always busy. And Z, you have the Shakespeare connection. I don’t know about Jocelyn yet, but I’m sure you could find some common ground, too. Don’t you have room for one more?
Hope I’m not stepping on any toes…
Brenna
From: The Millards
Of course you can invite Phyllis! It’s not like this is some secret club or anything. We’d love to have her.
I actually won’t be there tonight—we have a soccer game for Tyler, and Cassia was invited to a cookout with a little friend from the kindergarten Sunday school class. Then we get to take all four kids to Denver for an overnight with Shane’s parents, because Shane took a vacation day tomorrow. So tonight, it’s just me and my sweetie…no cyber-friends allowed! :)
Jocelyn
From: Zelia Muzuwa
Whoa, Jocelyn, sounds exciting! I’m jealous—wish Tristan and I got a little more alone time.
As for Phyllis—sure, Brenna, bring her along. I was wanting to get to know her anyway. Don’t think Dulcie would mind, either. Speaking of Dulcie, I wonder what she’s up to today?
Z
From: Dulcie Huckleberry
Funny that Rosalyn should mention apples…
We went to my parents’ house today for a cookout—my brother Kevin was there with his family (my other brother Scott and his wife live in Connecticut), and Marianne and Brandon came along, too, with Helene, since all their family lives too far away to come for a three-day weekend. My parents live on a small acreage on the outskirts of Omaha, and in their backyard are three dwarf apple trees.
Kevin was playing catch with his two younger kids (Emma, 8, and Treyton, 6). His oldest, Abigail, thinks it’s beneath her dignity as an 11-year-old, so she sat on a blanket watching the twins for me. Instead of a ball, Kevin was using apples, which are still small and a tad green here—hard enough to make great baseballs.
Of course, McKenzie wanted to play, too! But Treyton thought a 3-year-old, and a girl to boot, would ruin the game. However, Uncle Kevin is a sucker for his oldest niece, and said she could play. That miffed his son, and I could see that the game of catch was going to disintegrate in about ten seconds. So I hurried over to Tom, who was helping my dad get the grill started (dad refuses to buy a gas grill—says the charcoal adds flavor). I asked Tom if he would like to play catch with McKenzie.
It’s weird—at first, he said no. Why would a dad refuse to play catch with his daughter? He must have seen the look of displeasure in my eyes because he quickly changed his mind. We found a nice small apple that McKenzie could hold, but when she tried to throw it, she couldn’t get it to go far enough for Tom to catch. Her eyes got all shiny, like great big melted chocolate kisses, and her bottom lip edged out.
“I wanna play catch like Treyton and Emma.” The lip bobbled, and I could almost hear the tears making their way to the surface, like a pint-size geyser getting ready to erupt. Haley and Aidan and Marianne’s baby, Helene, had already cried enough that morning, I didn’t want to let another one get started.
So I scooped McKenzie up and twirled her around. “I’ll help you, okay? We’ll be a team—like the baseball teams on TV.”
She giggled. “Okay!” And at that moment, I congratulated myself—sometimes, even I can’t believe what a maternal genius I am. :)
I balanced her on my hip, and jogged back toward the edge of the lawn. We made a big show of flexing our arms and digging in our feet, like the pitchers on television. Tom just stood there, looking really uncomfortable, like he didn’t have a clue what he was doing. He watched Kevin toss an apple to his kids, and then turned back to us. He picked up the little green apple we’d chosen for McKenzie and tossed it our direction.
It fell about halfway between him and us. So we ran to pick it up and I helped McKenzie lob it back. I thought it was a good toss, but Tom couldn’t catch it. We backed up again and waited for him to throw the apple.
This time, he tried it overhand and it arched straight up in the air and landed at his feet. He laughed, but I noticed his face looked flushed. I hope he wasn’t embarrassed—do you suppose maybe he was? Now that I think about it, Kevin plays on his company’s softball team, and he’s pretty good. He even tried to give Tom some pointers, but Tom didn’t seem to be interested. Brandon offered to play instead, and let Tom go back and help my dad, but Tom blew him off. I felt he was being rude, and I also was starting to wonder if he was doing such a bad job because he hadn’t wanted to play in the first place.
So when he finally gave up the overhand and tossed it underhand to us, I picked the apple up and told McKenzie, “Here, sweetie, let’s show Daddy how to REALLY throw!”
I know he heard me, too, because he scowled, then put on a fake sort of grin, like he didn’t want anyone to know he was upset. I feel bad about it now….
It’s not technically my fault—and it’s not Marianne’s, either, but just as I let go of the apple, Helene screeched. And when Helene screeches, EVERYBODY pays attention. Tom turned his head just a little bit, to look at her.
And that’s when the apple struck him—right in his eye.
The poor guy grunted and doubled over, his hands over his face. McKenzie started sobbing that her daddy was hurted and going to die. That set the twins off, which set Helene off, and meanwhile Kevin had also doubled over—laughing—and Treyton and Emma were clamoring around Tom, wondering if he was bleeding or not. By the time McKenzie and I reached him, and Marianne and Kevin’s wife, Gemma, were quieting Helene and the twins, he shoved us all away and stomped into the house for some ice, my mother in hot pursuit. (She’d never miss a chance to do some mothering.) He wouldn’t even let me help him!
And now, he just left to go back to Kansas City—with the beginnings of a brilliant shiner. I tried to explain it was an accident. He says he believes me…but I wonder. It’s too bad, really—we’d had such a nice date on Saturday. And now, I think we’re back where we started. All because of an apple.
Dulcie
From: The Millards
Dear Ms. Huckleberry:
This is Mike Gumble, manager of the Colorado Rockies. After hearing of your remarkable throwing abilities yesterday, we would like to extend an invitation to try out for our team. We have been discussing the idea of having a few good women on the team—it would be great PR, with all the controversy about gender equality in sports. Please reply at your earliest convenience.
Sincerely,
Mike Gumble
From: Dulcie Huckleberry
Dear “Mr. Gumble,”
Thank you for that…gracious offer, but I am not interested. AND IT ISN’T FUNNY, JOCELYN! SO GIVE ME SOME SYMPATHY INSTEAD OF MOCKING MY PREDICAMENT!!! DON’T YOU HAVE ANY COMPASSION FOR MY POOR, BLACK-EYED HUSBAND?
Yours truly,
Dulcie Huckleberry
From: The Millards
Oh, come on, Dulcie—Shane thought my e-mail was hysterical! :)
Seriously, I’m sorry Tom got a black eye. I hope he doesn’t stay mad at you for very long.
From: P. Lorimer
Dear Brenna, Zelia, Dulcie and Jocelyn,
Thank you so much for letting me be part of your chat group last night and including me in your e-mail alias. You have no idea how badly I am in need of friendship right now. Jonathan and I have been married only about eighteen months, and we moved about six months ago to Kellom, Wisconsin, where we pastor a small town church. It’s Jonathan’s first church, and he’s been very busy trying to get acclimated. Plus, Bennet was born a month after we moved, so I have been far too exhausted to socialize much. I’ve met few women my age, and those I have become acquainted with seem to have little in common with me except for our children. As much as I love Julia and Bennet, I simply don’t want to spend all my free time talking about them. Chatting with you last night was the first opportunity I’ve had in a long time to step out of my roles as pastor’s wife or preschoolers’ mom, and simply be ME. Jonathan was teasing me last night about how I was sitting in front of the computer and suddenly bursting out laughing. But even he remarked that laughter was something he’d missed hearing from me. He thanks you, too. You’ve been quite a blessing to our little family, even though we’ve never actually met. I just wanted to say how grateful I am.
