Let Them Eat Steak!

That dinner was so good that I don't even know where to start. It was so beautiful that I'm tagging this post as, "arts."

Husband works a straight commission job. There is a lot of potential in such a lifestyle--potential to be eating ketchup on crackers and...potential for a reward perk after an impressive quarter. Earlier this year the latter was visited on Husband in the form of a certificate to Ruth Chris Steakhouse.

I always meet a night like this with a little trepidation. What to wear? Oh, how I wish I had time for a manicure. Should I wear my open-toed sandals? But wait...my toes are au natural, and I remember that Big Mama once said that that was bad, bad, bad.

And then there is this big fun...

Both of us go somewhere? Together? Without the children...alone? In a car? One car? Maybe we should take separate cars in weather like this. You know. Just in case.

These are the thoughts that I am tempted to think, because fear is the fiery dart torch that the adversary tries to shoot my way most often.

But by the grace of God, I hold up my shield and live!

And I was livin' large tonight! Delicious fun!

The room was so lovely I thought I could sit in it forever.

The table so clean and bright that I hated to eat upon it.

The glasses sparkled so that I didn't even ask for a straw! In fact, I'm pretty sure they were brand spanking new, and that the wait staff was just breaking them like festive Greeks in the back.

The waitress was so courteous I thought I'd like to fall all over myself telling her how much I appreciated her.

And then came the food. *sigh*

When your Husband's employer is footing the bill, you spring for the appetizers. Sauteed mushroom caps stuffed with crab meat. I. am. so. spoiled.

The salad came next--shredded like coleslaw so that every bite was the same even mixture of many different greens, and presented just out of a 4-inch-diameter, cylinder mold with *what were those?* decorative fried something strips atop the course. Wow-weee! I whispered to Husband that, "Someone in the kitchen doesn't have enough to do."

The potatoes au gratin was enough to share, and yummy for sure, but let me tell you that when Patti, our server, brought my 8 ounces of filet, cooked medium, on a 500 degree hot plate, I'm just sure I heard the sizzling butter squeal with delight.

Or was that me?

A good steak can make you talk to it and say things like, "I've been looking for you for so long. Where have you been all my life?"

And a good steak can make a slightly frumpy homeschool mom ...*shhhhh*... forget she has children. Not for too long, mind you--just long enough to savor a wonderful meal amidst good manners, clean dishes and quiet surroundings, staring at the handsomest man I know.

Oh, and then there was the cheesecake. With blueberry sauce. On a pecan crust.

When the waitress asked if there was anything else she could do for us, I asked for a "do-over." Yes, I really did.

And The Blogger Reflection Award Goes To...

...me?

It's really hard to accept an award for reflecting Christ as I consider that Christ probably wouldn't have accepted such a public accolade. But, anyhoo...

I will humbly try to receive the kind and encouraging things that Barb over at A Chelsea Morning had to say about me (even if I do feel compelled to set her straight here, here, here and here on the difference between my reality and her gracious perception):

My respect for her is endless. I think I did a pretty good job raising my two daughters but believe me, if I were just now starting that journey, she'd be my inspiration and my measuring stick. She's raising three of the loveliest girls you'll ever meet. She's so intelligent it almost scares me sometimes but she never makes me feel "dumb," even when it's blatantly obvious I don't have a clue what she's talking about. LOL She's so genuine that she didn't laugh at me at all when I told her how much I respect her knowledge of classical music and asked her how I could become more informed. Actually, she recommended the discount bins at music stores as a good place to start. I totally love that. And she's a gifted poet. She's a woman most of us can only aspire to be. She knows who she is and so do her daughters. And that's a good thing, my friends.

Is Barb a blessing or what? Now, it's that kind of lavish encouragement that is truly reflective of Christ if you ask me. I'd boomerang this award right back at her if it wasn't contrary to the purpose. So instead, I'll pay it forward to the following five cyber friends in whom I see Christ reflected, and are also currently active in their blogging:

Erna at Sweet Serenity has that intangible quality of childlike trust that Jesus loves so much. And it's not because everything is easy and everybody is healthy all the time--quite the opposite. To visit her blog is to delight in watching a mother of young children rejoice in her salvation, her Lord, her calling to nurture her sweet young ones, and to the "cup" He has assigned her. She makes it a habit to count her blessings out loud, and she's crafty. *sigh* So, so crafty. She's privatized her blog, so I don't know how accessible she is, but you can ask! She's pretty accommodating.

Tammy at Family Doin's sidebar is conspicuously void of awards and I don't "get that" because I know her traffic is steady and respectable. And I know that because on the occasions when she has linked me for whatever reason, I see a fair increase in my traffic. Which is to say it doubles. She's always got a good attitude about things, she relishes her family, respects her husband, honors her mother, loves her adorable daughters (who would be playing with mine if she didn't almost live in Canada, and I almost in Mexico) and is just. a genuinely. kind. blogger. An accolade is long overdue this sweet woman. So, Tammy, thanks for being one of the nicest bloggers on the block! And in being so affable, reflecting Jesus' concern and availability to everybody.

Lady Laura at Let Me Be a Woman is a model of Godliness to me in so many fascinating ways. In this world of excess and waste, there is something beautiful about the way she practices the virtue of being frugal. With tongue firmly planted in cheek, I say she reflects God by frequently creating something wonderful out of...well...nothing. (Of course, she just has a visionary gift to see something out of what the rest of us would be tempted to deem as nothing.) But it's not just that. She is raising and homeschooling a young man of God all by herself, and he's turning out "right." But the best reason you should visit her today is because her writings are just so lovely. She expresses herself with the mind of Christ--the real Christ--because she obviously saturates herself in His Word.

Elise at A Path Made Straight is going to be given this award by multiple friends, I'm sure of it. But I won't let that stop me from trying to be the first! She is one who crafts her words so beautifully as to draw the reader in, and once in, she shares the love of Jesus with such tenderness and grace as to make Him irresistible. That's quite a find in this day of wolves and shrill voices. Elise is a homeschooling mom of three young children and surely faces the same frazzled focus that any of us do, but she has a gifted way of painting the reality of the picture in the light of His grace so that I'm spurred on to the good work of becoming the Proverbs 31 woman--knowing all the while that it's beyond me but that I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.

The last one--I can't help it--I award posthumously to Oswald Chambers, whose devotions at My Utmost For His Hightest are on line now and have been a remarkable help and encouragement to me in the past months. His remarks are nearly 100 years old, but more relevant today than most any of the me-centered gobbledeegook being preached, taught or encouraged in the Church. Was that abrupt? Well, he's long since gone to be with the Lord, so I don't feel compelled to make a bunch of flowery phrases to bless him. And I'm pretty sure that's exactly how he would want it, anyway.

Recipients, don't forget to pass it on.

Thinking Blogger Award

On my last post, Barb from A Chelsea Morning commented that she had awarded me something and that I better scoot on over to check it out. Of course I abandoned all blogging to do just that!

This one is kind of a tag, so now I am invited to name 5 blogs that make me think. More on that in a minute.

Here's what Barb said about me that made Husband and me laugh out loud!

"Grafted Branch at Restoring the Years riles me up all the time and she seriously makes me think - her dedication to raising three daughters to become the best they can be is truly inspirational. And she doesn't mince words when she has something on her mind. She makes me feel like a real weenie."

And about passing it on, or "paying it forward" as the saying goes, I'll have to save that for another day. I'm too tired to think about thinking.

Giggle Snort With A Side Of Stringed Cheer!

I'm feeling a bit giddy. It's 10 p.m. The girls are asleep. And Husband and I just got news. Really. good. news.

It's not really our news. It's Fifi's news. But no way am I waking her to share it because she'll be awake all night -- for sure.

We have been expecting this news for days. I've been obsessively frequently checking email for this news. I've been looking every 3 or 4 minutes, actually. And with Fifi's blessing.

See...

Our little girl has wanted to play the violin since she was 3 years old. Back then, she spent a couple of years pretending to play with a miniature mop and broom for an instrument and bow.

Once, during a Sunday night "hymn sing" at a little Baptist church down the street -- which was not our own -- Fifi introduced herself to the preacher after the service. He had a big ole' guitar strapped around his torso, and so she went up to him -- musician to musician -- and told him that she played the violin. I winked over her shoulder to say that she was speaking about her imaginary violin.

He smiled and invited her to bring it with her the next time she came.

And so she did. Because little children have memories like elephants that way.

It was a precious moment when Preacher invited 4-year old Fifi to come up and play a duet with him. He wasn't blind. He could see that her violin was really a child's plastic housekeeping toy. But maybe he could also see the bigger picture. And perhaps he could hear the Savior whispering, "Suffer not..."

I can't remember what they "played," but I do remember that I will never forget Preacher for his kindness to my girl. With that small sacrificial gesture before his congregation of about a-dozen-or-so folks, he validated her dream. And I'm convinced he inspired her to keep dreaming.

We stopped by his house on the way home from lessons one day last summer. I wanted him to hear what she could do now. I wanted him to know that I was grateful. Too often, we don't let people know the impact they've had on us. We worry about feeling strange or looking silly.

Life's too short.

As it turns out, these past years have brought change for all of us. Preacher is retired now. He cares for his wife who had a stroke last year and lives in a wheelchair. But he still straps that guitar on, smiles big and plays with the church band.

He's still making the least of us feel welcome and useful in The Kingdom.

But back to my story...

6 years later, Fifi has studied with 3 different teachers. And because she home-schools, and because we weren't willing to give up Sunday afternoons for the local youth orchestra rehearsals, Fifi has diligently spent all that time -- summer and semester alike -- practicing. Practicing for the next lesson, the occasional recital -- and not much more.

Great things have been accomplished in those 6 years. Fifi has developed great discipline by being a musician. She has benefited from the ear-training that the Suzuki method affords. She has found an outlet to express herself...and to praise her Creator.

Fifi is not a music phenom.

But apparently she is a hard enough worker and good enough musician to be awarded a place with the 2nd violins in the senior-level orchestra she auditioned for Monday night. They liked her! They really liked her!

Without much idea as to how she stacked up, musically, to other home-schooling musicians, we kinda, sorta hoped she might get a high chair placement on the intermediate level. We are a little unnerved, a bit surprised, and a whole lot excited for her!

It's going to be a great year!

Dumpling's Duet

Dumpling is working hard...well, harder than is normal for this sweetie.

At 6 1/2, she's one of the nicest little girls you'll ever meet, but the work ethic is still being developed. She has her moments of greatness when the chips are down and I need the help, but mostly she'd rather play with blocks. (And strangely, that's one of the things I love best about her.)

But, here is what happens when she applies herself. She gets to play a duet with her teacher. What an accomplishment! What a reward!

A Humble Man's Honor

Once upon a time there was a man who had a wife, a little girl and a driving need to prove himself amongst a community of people who -- with rare exception -- he did not actually respect or care about.

But, this drive was relentless -- albeit subtle. It quietly but effectively chose the family's hometown for them and then kept them living in a continuous state of anxiety, waiting for the fickle master to change his mind. And every time he did, it turned the family's life upside down through unemployment, financial vulnerability and the ever-humbling employment search.

This need for money and fame only ever garnished enough success to frustrate the man and keep him working and hoping for a little bit more and a little bit better -- year after year after year.

Then one day, it happened again. The fickle master stomped his foot, the other shoe dropped, and the job was lost. With it -- wonderously -- went the man's inherent need to stay on this self-defeating road to nowhere. His path would soon be detoured to a life of providing for his family and serving others with the talents and resources he had been practicing for decades.

He found himself a position with a start-up venture, but after a few months, it was clear that the opportunity would not pan out -- which is to say it wouldn't pay the bills, though it had already served a larger purpose in moving the man and his family to a new place where many blessings awaited them.

One afternoon, his present intersected with his future and formed a most intriguing fork in the road. One prong was a job offer to head the marketing department for a local caterer. It was a nice offer because the man enjoyed the art of good food and knew a little about promotion. The money wasn't much, but he and his family had lived on less.

The other prong was an invitation to apply for another job: as an advertising sales executive for a successful radio station. The man had spent his life on the entertainment side of the microphone, and knew quite a bit about promotion in the industry. But the money was nothing -- quite literally. If he was selected, the commission-based salary would afford the man a small loan for a number of months, until he got his footing. It was a big risk, but it was also a tremendous opportunity, limited only by the man's own effort and ability.

The man -- a brand new believer and follower of Christ -- prayerfully chose to pursue the latter, and spent an afternoon away from his wife and daughter to submit himself to a half-day-long psychological apptitude test.

And he failed.

The scores showed him to be ill-suited for the job. He was too nice. Too nice to succeed at business-to-business sales.

But in the next breath, and before she would giddily turn to her computer to consult the stars about the man, the woman who would be his manager stated that she didn't know why she was doing it, but that she felt compelled to make him an offer anyway. And so she did.

And he said yes.

For many months, the small family scraped by as the man sought to learn a new side of the industry in which he had camped all of his adult life. It was really a very sweet time of comaraderie in which a stronger bond was built through the relative hardship that was endured together.

All the while, the man was ever mindful that he had been deemed unsuitable for success. He marveled that this new career challenged his weakest skill set: math and details. He was tempted to be worried about the future.

But the man persevered. He went to all the training conferences. He listened to his managers. He was teachable. He was honest. He was diligent, and quiet and truly wanted to help his clients succeed in their businesses. He did his very best.

But mostly, he walked in the confidence that he could do all things through Christ who strengthened him. And he took comfort in knowing that the Lord would not suffer His children to go without food or clothing. He learned that the Lord was made strong in the man's weaknesses.

And at the end of his 8th year of toiling and building and walking the Narrow Road in the midst of what was too often Vanity Fair, the man was singled out for honor. And he was humbled. And so thankful.

And his wife was so proud of him, as were his dear daughters -- of which there were now three.

Let another man praise thee, and not thine own mouth; a stranger, and not thine own lips.

Proverbs 27:2

Have You Been To The Met?

I did something wonderful today. Today, I went to the Met. Yes, The Metropolitan Opera. The one in New York.

Only I didn't travel halfway across the country; I drove 30 mintes to a theater near me and watched it simulcast live, complete with backstage interviews with the performers! It was beautiful. And delightful.

The audience was mostly seniors. I like seniors. I like that they appreciate the beauty of classic expressions of art. I like that they support it with their time and money. But mostly, I like that seniors are old enough and mannered enough to remember that this is not their living room, and there is no pause button to facilitate their asking a question of, or making a comment to their neighbor. Nobody needed to be shushed today, and that was soooooo nice.

Because most of my fellow patrons were seniors, most of them dressed for the event, too. What an opportunity to step back in time -- or over in society perhaps -- to mingle with a segment of the population that still has some dignity and respect for themselves and others.

Because I'm living in a city where people are comfortable wearing jeans to a funeral.

And I'm living in a time when too many Christians dress without any care at all, to worship their King.

I'm raising children in a day when issues of gender-specific matters of the most private nature are easily presented to mixed audiences, and no one blinks an eye anymore.

It's repulsive, not revolutionary. Pathetic, not progressive. Crass, not comfortable. It's a picture of our culture going down the commode. Pardon my reference.

But that's not really what my day at the opera left me with. I digress.

My afternoon with 3 acts of I, Puritani garnered me some wonderful benefits. I found that I was living in the moment, if only for a few hours. That's not something that comes easily to me, I'm afraid, but in watching Anna Netrebko voice Elvira, I was completely entranced and appreciative of the gift of beauty through art that God has bestowed upon this fallen race.

I walked away with something else, too. One might think the opera a strange place to find spiritual victory, but I did.

I was sitting alone, and on the aisle. This meant that during both intermissions, and even occasionally between scenes, I would be required to stand up, up to a dozen times to let people pass on the way out of the row. And then another dozen times to let them back in.

"People need to leave their seats sometimes," I told myself, "especially older folks. I'm not going to let myself be irritated by it."

And I didn't, for awhile.

But at the end of the 2nd intermission, after I'd cheerfully stood numerous times to let people out, a giant gentleman came up and pardoned himself, saying, "I just want to talk to some of my friends right there."

Here, cheerful changed to cordial.

And then, the nice woman with whom I had made small talk before the opera began came back from wherever she went, and it was my pleasure to let her in.

Not 60 seconds later, she was on her feet again headed my way! Grrrrrr.

At this point, I'm rehearsing my response in my head. It's what I wished I could say; it's what I would not have hesitated to say 10 years ago. It sounded something like, "No way. Sit down. You. are. done. You are not leaving this row again. You just came back not 1 minute ago! You're done."

(If your browswer slows down at this point, it might be shocked cyber-friends republishing their blogs after taking me off their blogroll. Because, yes, I'm human a sinner that way.)

But this ends well. Very well. As these rude words were making their way through my thought channel, I prayed. I prayed the Lord would help me just bear this little inconvenience -- however inconsiderate. I prayed He would just help me tame my tongue in that moment.

And so I said nothing.

And then she stopped.

She wasn't coming toward me to leave the row afterall. She was coming over to me to give me something. Based on our earlier conversation, she knew I was a music lover and she even knew some of my choir collegues.

And what she gave me was $240 worth of complimentary tickets to an upcoming music event produced by a local favorite. Beethoven. Costumes. Vignettes. And a chocolate fountain reception afterward. Free.

I am so glad that I kept my mouth shut! Anyone want to join me?