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Bad Apples

That escalated quickly.”

Did it really though? I’m not sure quickly is the right word for this sentence. Perhaps finally is a better way to describe the events of the last week.

I say finally because hate, anger, fear, and violence are not new. The struggle for minorities but especially black Americans is not new. It’s never gone away and has been brewing in our nation for years, occasionally rearing it’s head before the outrage quietly subsides again.

We shouldn’t be surprised this happened. We should be embarrassed.

We should be embarrassed we allowed our fellow man to be treated this poorly. We should be ashamed of how we have labeled every officer as racist. We should be outraged that conversation in cooler hands are being ignored. We should be heart broken that people with bad intentions are taking attention off fixing a problem through their riots and looting.

This isn’t a cut-and-dry matter. There are more honest, loving, frustrated, good protesters marching for equal treatment for everyone then there are destructive looters.

There are more honest, kind, helpful, brave, good police officers then there are bad, racist, hateful ones.

Bad Apples

My grandma used to always say “one bed apple ruins the bunch” and I don’t think I have ever agreed with that statement more than I have in the last week. Instead of blacks against cops and citizens against government, we should be fighting this battle as love versus hate. All sides need to come together to a dress and weed out the hateful members of their groups.

We are letting the bad apples from all sides cloud the space for conversation and change. The bad apples are polarizing our sides and creating division. The bad apples are working together to stop our progress and hurt all sides.

The Bad Apples Need to Go.

Anti-racist people need to call out those who are causing destruction in violence during what should be peaceful protests. Nothing can be positively changed coming from a place of violence.

Bad cops need to go. Their brothers in blue need to stop protecting them with their code of silence. That’s where the real change starts.

You know how much I love Uncle Sol and all the great advice he left us in the book of Proverbs. So, Like so many other times, I turned to him this week and I found great advice in chapter 6 verses 16 through 19″

“There are six things that the Lord hates, seven that are an abomination to him: haughty eyes, a lying tongue, and hands that shed innocent blood, a heart that devices wicked plans, feet that make haste to run to evil, a false witness who breathes out lies, and one who sows discord among brothers”

His words, not mine, but exactly what we should be focusing on now. Speaking the truth and doing it peacefully. Calling out those doing evil and addressing these problems with love. Not getting sucked into destruction and arguments or covering up to protect those we love who may be doing things we hate.

No one should protect anyone who is spreading discord among the people.

Do Better.

I’m praying for black America and for blue America. I’m praying for the good apples to resist the bad and keep the bunch good. We’re better than this America. We have to be.

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This Was Not the Plan – Corona Blues -SheProclaims.com

This was not the plan for these daffodils this Spring. They were placed in the ground last fall, with care, in a landscaped area near the porch. The plan for these flowers was to come up from the gloomy ground once the snow melted away to bring happiness to the corner of our yard while we waited for the rest of Spring to arrive. 

Now imagine their surprise, and mine, when they sprouted in the middle of the backyard this week. These flowers are nowhere near where they were planted. Their Spring plans are very much off track thanks to a mischievous squirrel. 

My first reaction was to pull them out of the ground when the first buds started peeking over the grass. I was annoyed to find my planning and work messed up for no reason. Then, life started changing quickly as we moved to working from home, home schooling, online church, and changing all the Spring plans we had for ourselves. This was not the plan we had in place for our Spring. Taking care of renegade daffodils slipped from my mind. 

Until today when I sat down for a moment of quiet in this strange homebound chaos and spotted the daffodils. In the wrong spot, nowhere near where they were supposed to be, there they were. Standing tall among the grass and leaves with their bright yellow petals spread for the world. 

Among the chaos and broken plans they still bring joy. 

Last week was been hard at our house. Everyone was acutely aware we should have been preparing for a Spring Break trip to Florida instead of preparing for which puzzle we would be doing next. School buildings were closed for the rest of the year, worrying us all with how we’ll adapt to a new virtual classroom life. Many tears were shed. A lot of them from me (I am FREAKING OUT!).

Close quarters now feel smaller, patience is wearing thin, and arguments are popping up with more frequency than before. It seems like one of us is angry every waking moment of the day. I can’t help but wonder, what are we doing wrong? Why are we suddenly falling apart and suffering?

I finally found the real reason for the range of our moods. We aren’t turning on each other or actually falling apart. It is much simpler than that.

We are grieving. You are too.

We are grieving the loss of our structure and routine. Coming to terms with losing our school plans and vacation fun. We are all shedding the hope and excitement of the Spring Break we booked last fall. All of our plans are gone and nothing looks how it “should”. Nothing is how it is supposed to be. None of this is right. This was not the plan.

We are not the only ones. I’m sure you feel it too. The daffodils get it.

They remind us that plans change. Sometimes we end up where we don’t belong. We may end up where we do not want to be with no way to change the situation. No matter how long or well we plan, sometimes things are out of our control. All we can do is keep moving forward, growing where we are, and bringing whatever joy we can to the world.

We can still be beautiful and grow new places. Even if everything isn’t how we planned.

Just like the daffodils.

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Who Will You Be When This is All Over? – SheProclaims.com

Who will you be when this is all over? This question got lodged in my head somehow this week. Here in Michigan, we are “sheltering in place” for three weeks. It sounds like a long time and feels even longer, but in the grand scheme of life it isn’t. It’s only three weeks (for now…who knows what’s next). 

Caterpillars spend 5 to 21 days inside their chrysalises turning into beautiful butterflies. Three weeks for even the slowest of caterpillars to go from fancy worm to magical butterfly. If they can do that, we certainly can learn a few things in the coming weeks. The question “who will you be when this is all over” deserves a little extra thought. 

The way I see it, we have two choices. We can come out exactly how we went in – which I guess would be a caterpillar fail – or we can turn inward and see new things about ourselves. We can make a few changes and learn a few new things to make us better than we were before. Enhanced versions of ourselves. 

A Change of Plans

If life had gone to plan this Spring, we would be ferrying one child to ballet, theater class, and softball while the other needed rides to vocal coaching and extra choir rehearsals. Matt and I would still be working a lot of hours because we should be getting ready to load up the family truckster to head to Disney World next week. We should be packing and planning while living our busy, chaotic, beautiful life. 

Instead, I am working from home with the kids running around. Matt’s role, classified as essential right now, requires him to still go to work every day. Aside from that, we’re here. We’re reading more books, playing more games, watching more tv, and going for more hikes than usual. We’re disappointed in the things we’re missing out on but it is what it is at this point. We are cozied up in our home for the next three weeks. 

Our home has become our chrysalis. We can ride it out and stay the same or choose to be better. [Spoiler alert: I’m choosing to be better. Pretty sure you saw that coming.] 

Be Bitter or Be Better

I could be mad the store didn’t have the Cheez-Its I like (we’re all a little hooked on the white cheddar Grooves) but I choose to see how lucky I am for everything they did have. Things of actual sustenance.

Being upset with the hoarders and complaining about them openly is understandable but I choose to use my energy instead to help those in my community who need things right now instead.

I could point fingers and debate the politics of this situation with the rest of the world but I’m going to be really honest right now: I don’t care. Does it really matter who’s fault it is it started or what party someone with an idea belongs to? I don’t care about any of those stupid details everyone keeps screaming about all day long. Mistakes were made and are being made, I think we can all agree on that, I am focused on doing my part not to spread anything and loving on the people around me right now. Honestly, that’s what really matters. Everyone should be looking out for each other, taking the steps to prevent spreading it, and reminding each other we’re all in this together. No one is alone. 

I also want to learn the ukulele, finish a few books I’m reading, memorize Psalm 23, clean out this house, do some painting, clean the yard, and take a lot of naps.  

Who will you be when this is all over?

When I come out of my chrysalis, I want to keep giving. I want to keep giving food and medicine to people in need. I am spreading love and friendship to people feeling sad and alone. I’m giving more time to my friends and family. I will do one less chore per day so I can color one more picture with my daughter. Staying up just a little later so I can play one game with my son will be a priority. I want to sit on the sofa next to my husband instead of lounging in my favorite chair when we talk at night. 

I want to be a happier, more living, more peaceful person when I come out. Leaning into my life and my people like never before will be my new normal. I’m going to be a butterfly. 

Who will YOU be when this is all over?

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Birthdays are weird.

This week was my birthday. For those who dont know, I don’t get older. I just go up a level each year, because being level 39 sounds way cooler than being 39 years old. So, the other day I went up another level and I’m stronger, wiser, and tougher that before. Badass.
What is it about my birthday though that makes my children lose their minds and insane things happen? Its like the universe finds it comical every time I manage to make one more trip around the sun. Every. Freaking. Year.
This year, we needed to celebrate early since my actual birthday day was crammed full of taking kids to school and events. So a few days before the big day my kids whined that they didn’t want to go to the store to buy a gift and card (they may be totally addicted to Amazon which may be my fault but we talk about that another time). I tried to help Matt out by reminding the kids about all the hard work I do for their birthdays each year in the form of parties and cakes, not to mention the fact that I sacrificed my bikini modeling career to give birth to both of them, and the fact that if they celebrate my birthday they get ice cream too. I’m not sure which guilt trip or bribe did it, but they finally got it done before we went out for my birthday dinner.
Let’s talk about birthday dinner as a mom for a minute: if I have learned one thing in all the previous levels, its that I want to go some place where I know my children will definitely find something to eat that they love. Or like. Or at least will nibble on before we bring it home to enjoy as lunch the next day. So I chose my favorite restaurant to go to with my kids so they will not drive me crazy during the meal. Level 39 me was crushing it.
We made it through the meal with only one little ruffle about straws (what kind of waitress brings one kid a bendy straw and one kid a normal one?!). Also, don’t start on me about straws and the turtles. I live with an 8 year old girl, I know all about it, I just wanted a nice level 39 meal so straws were a must. The rest was great. All in all, a win.
My actual birthday consisted of running all over, going to softball game, then going out for ice cream before coming home. All I wanted to do was lie in bed and binge Madmen. (Yes, I am aware that the show has been off the air for ages and I am insanely behind on the times, however I have no patience and zero chill so I prefer to wait for shows to run their entire course and ignore them until they are placed on a streaming service where I do not have to wait for annoying things like cliffhangers.)
Just as I was about to finish my second episode and roll over to go to sleep I heard our teenager yell from downstairs. I am totally a dedicated mom, but in that moment I was also an exhausted mom so instead of getting up and walking downstairs – I texted him:
Me: “Don’t yell, your sister is asleep. What’s up?”
Teen: “There is a bird in the fireplace.”
Me, now yelling and running full speed from the bedroom: “NOBODY MOVE!!!”
This is where Matt clearly gets me and why our marriage works. He didn’t ask for an explanation or really flinch at my outburst and sudden flight. He calmly paused the show (I seriously love him) and followed me downstairs where we were in fact greeted by a bird flapping around inside of our fireplace among the ashes.

Me: “Oh my gosh. What do we do? Someone has to grab it. But not me. Do we even OWN thick leather gloves for this stuff?!”
Matt: “Will open a window and to get a way to get it out.”
Me: “Let’s catch him in a pillow case!”
Matt: “You think you’re that accurate?”
Me: “In a sheet!”
Matt: “You will throw ash all over the house.”
Teen: “Is it hurt? Can we keep it?!”
Me: “NO. Get the sheet.”

My plan was nothing short of a play right out of Wile E. Coyote’s playbook. We would hold the sheet up over the open fire place, the bird would fly into it, and we would quickly wrap it around him then throw it out the window. This is completely doable for two regular grown ups (one of which may have been afraid of rabies at that moment). Right? It sounded good in my head.
As it turns out, this bird was a super genius. Now, I realize that at first glance the fact that the bird fell down the chimney and was trapped with people staring at him would lead you to believe otherwise, but as soon as we held up a sheet in front of the fireplace and opened the sliding doors he froze. He may not have known what a chimney was but he definitely knew a hunter green sheet with paint stains was not the sky and he should not go that way.
We finally agreed to try Matt’s plan (and by we, I mean me). We closed the room door, opened the windows, removed the screens, slid the the fireplace screen open, then moved the sheet so he could see the window.
That’s all it took for our visitor, he was probaly traumatized by the giants waving paint sheets at him, so he soared out of the fireplace, through the room, and followed the fading sunlight to his freedom!
We then seized this teachable moment to show our son how fireplaces work and why you need to close the flue when done. You’re welcome, future daughter-in-law, for teaching your future husband how to care for your home.
You owe me a birthday cake.