I don't like spiders, but I can usually handle grabbing them with a kleenex and flushing them down the toilet. However, when they are big, black, gross baby tarantulas, then I'm out. (That is not in my job description, and is one of the reasons I got married). The intruder was in my bathroom sink and as creeped out as I was, I did not take my eyes off it while Mr. W was waking up and putting on his cape to come to my rescue, because if the thing would have scurried off somewhere and escaped I would have had to move out. Mr. W took care of it without batting an eye (or even sighing at me) and went back to sleep. As did I, however my torment continued in my dreams, where the spider's MOTHER, which was as big as my hand, was crawling around on our carpet and I was throwing all kinds of stuff at it to try and kill it. Mr. W was not available in my dream, but my son Kyle was sitting in a chair calmly watching my antics as I freaked out about the mother spider. (That's totally something he would do by the way - he obviously gets his calm demeanor from his dads.) I don't know if I killed it tho, because all of a sudden my dream diverted to me trying to use our kitchen sink and discovering that the faucet had shot out through the roof of our house like a rocket and got stuck on top of some phone lines above our house. I'm not even going to try to analyze what that means, but it distracted me from the spiders so that's fine with me.
I've been in sort of a funk lately. I'm not sure why, nothing bad has happened, in fact some really good things have happened.
Like, I got a new purse.
I have been using it for exactly two days and already have decided it meets my standard for "perfect purse awesomeness". It's been a while since I had one that met my stringent criteria (you can see previous winners here and here and here), so I'm pretty stoked. Here is how my new purse stacks up to the criteria:
1) It has to be real leather. Or a fake material that I happen to think is real leather. This one might actually be real leather. I mean I got it at Nordstroms so there's a chance. It's soft and has that wrinkled leather look and feel that I love. Good 'nuff for me.
2) It has to have a short handle. Check. It's short enough to carry around like a grandma, yet long enough to fling over my elbow, and over my shoulder if I am in the mood to be annoyed by it falling off 8 times before I resorting to my other two carrying options.
3) It has to have separate pockets for my cell phone and lip stuff on the outside of the purse. Check. This has one large pocket on the outside of the purse, which is perfect for my phone and lip stuff. Score!
4) It absolutely cannot have any sequins or tassels or unnecessary gaudy embellishments. Check. Not even a buckle on this baby.
5) It has to be able to zip shut. Well, here is where we deviate a bit from the criteria. It doesn't zip. It has one magnetic snap, tho. We'll see how this goes.
6) It has to have at least two big separate sections - one for my wallet and notes, the other for all my
Another good thing that happened this week is that Vince and I purchased our first vehicle together. We have had the same two vehicles since the summer we first met, which was 2007...my dark grey Pontiac Grand Prix and his bright red Kia Sedona. They have both been great vehicles, but the van is approaching 200k miles and after sinking a few thousand dollars into it this year already, when the "check engine" light came on last week and I was told it would cost $94 JUST TO FIND OUT what was wrong (and me having a subsequent snit about it) we decided that it was time for "Suzanne the Van" to go buh-bye. Hope named her that, by the way. She really wanted us to let her have it as her first vehicle, and we considered it, but now we just want Suzanne to find a new home before she overstays her welcome (and we go broke).
Back to my funk. I get into them from time to time, and every time I do it is usually because of one of two things...either something is bothering me that I am not aware of yet, or I have not been spending time with God. And sometimes both. I can say in all honesty right now that the latter is true.
I have a prayer table at home that I have set up in our office.
It is an antique table that belonged to my Grandma, and has a matching chair and magazine rack which are on either side of it. Mom told me that Grandma and Grampa bought this set early in their marriage, which would have been in the 1930's. I love the idea of this being my prayer table. I have no doubt that my Grandma prayed at this table, and most likely my Mom did too. There is a legacy of faith in my family that I am so grateful for...there is power in generations of women who love the Lord. Power in prayer. And I can imagine the prayers and tears of the wives and mothers and grandmothers who sat at this table...moving Heaven to intercede for our husbands, children, grandchildren, and friends...for generations. The bible says that our prayers are like incense, rising up to Heaven, and God hears every one.
"May my prayer be set before You as incense, the raising of my hands as the evening offering." - Psalm142:1
I can imagine all the prayers that have been offered at that tear soaked table...my prayers...rising up as a fragrant offering to God. Carrying with them the echo of the prayers of my mother and grandmother. He receives them, breathes them in, allowing them to mix with His wisdom and love and grace. And in His timing, He breathes out His blessing...like a cloud of smoke that descends on me as I sit at the table. Desperate to believe and trust that His answers to my prayers will line up with His promises.
I have not been spending enough time at my prayer table lately. When I go too long without being in the Word and in prayer, well, that is funk material right there. Things in life start to bother me, I begin to feel "off" and am tempted to fill the void with all kinds of things to distract me (social media, news, shopping, and of course, food.) I start sleeping less, get more tired during the day, and then want something to make me feel better...and the cycle continues until I find myself here, blogging in a coffee shop figuring it all out.