**The water’s getting warm so you might as well swim

In the two years since I’ve been blogging, I’ve only blogged one other time about my faith.  I never blog about it, because it’s become incredibly personal to me since I first accepted the *Jesus People* call in the early 70s. 

I accepted Christ at the ripe old age of 13.  Then again practically every time I screwed up, which was often.  I kept thinking that the more I got dipped, blessed, saved or dunked, I would be able to stop my bad behavior.  I finally got sober at age 20 in 1979.  Since then, I have been all over the Spiritual Map with Zen, New Age, Buddhaism study, pondered becoming a Catholic, loved Judaism, etc.  I knew all along I was a Christian, but it was very inconvenient for a number of reasons, which I won’t go into here, since this post is about my 11 year old son.

Today, we were listening to the sermon in our new church home.  Well, he has another church home…he has one with his Dad, and one with me.  The pastor was talking about that verse in John 14: 6…(I am the Way, the Truth and the Life…that one)…and asked people to pray. 

I suddenly realized that at some point I was going to let my son make this decision on his own, because he is a *Cradle Christian*…baptized at age 6 months, without his permission.  In our home before we separated, we went to church every week, but there was no God living here with us.  We went to Christian school, he was a Deacon, I helped with the Sunday School, but real Christianity…it just wasn’t happening.  I was hoping my son would somehow find Christ on his own… but I didn’t know it would be today.

So, the pastor asks who prayed the prayer.  He raised his hand in the throng of hundreds, and the pastor asked everyone to come to the altar.  My son did, then went with the pastors and the 30 or so people who also prayed and accepted Christ. 

I realized it was a red letter day.  His red letter day.  And, I didn’t know that I would be so very happy for him, based on my own earlier confusion/indecision/ambivalence.  I gave him a card tonight, and the very Bible my grandmother gave to me in 1971.  We had a special dinner and we’re off to play Boy Scout Monopoly.

Funny thing.  His acceptance solidified my belief and love for Christ.  It really has been Him who’s been here all along.  I just forget at times.

Oh Happy Day.

**From Hey Now You’re A Rock Star, by Smashmouth

WWE Woes & Running Club Help

  • Gymnotes #2 is having his 9th birthday party on Friday night.  9 boys, sleeping over, swimming and spa…and it’s a WWE theme.  I can’t even link it now, but it’s the SMACKDOWN wrestling thingy that he is currently obsessed with (yeah, ending a sentence with a preposition, sorry English people)…I need ideas for what to DO that night?  We are watching Smackdown, and vying for the Title Belt, but this Mom is so out of ideas. 
  • Running Team Name.  We need a team name to wear to our Half in Fresno.  Kim is 35, and I’m *cough* 49 and we started running on Halloween.  Our town is Ripon.  We want it to say *Membership: 2*.  We are slow.  Ripon River Rats?  HELP????
  • We ran 4.4 this morning.  Each of us with a bathroom stop.  This is her first one.  I felt slightly smug…”Oh, look at you needing to stop”….LOL  I probably have to stop 2 out of 3 times…We did a 10:50 pace.

That’s it for today.  I could use some help, if you’re so inclined.

Some things are just more important

I was all ready to post about the win of our wrestler, Cejudo.  The son of illegal immigrants from Mexico…

I was ready to discuss Team Agony…Lolo Jones, et al.

Legal spanking in 21(!) states.  Corporal punishment, and why it’s not meted out equally among all racial groups.

The banging of my head on the wall after only eight days of teaching in a Continuation High School.

Yes, I had much to discuss today on my blog. 

Today is the first day of school for my 3rd and 5th graders.  I had all these timely topics to discuss, when Gymnotes#2 comes out and yells,

MOM!  My new shorts have FLOWERS ON THEM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

We got new skater shorts at Quiksilver, and tried to explain the hibiscus, and how cool are you that you’re a skateboarder, and boys wear flowers, etc.  I think he bought it, but it was the most important topic of the day.  More than any of the ones listed.  Which goes to prove, that first of all, I’m a Mom.

Hot Yoga. Yes. Hot.

Today’s cross training was brought to you by the hot cop who was right behind me in Yoga class.  I’ve been separated for a year and a half, and I’m not looking.  At all. 

It’s amazing, however, how having a male in my class makes me do the Yoga poses so very very perfectly.  There was no wiggling during Tree Pose.  I did the Pigeon with expertise.  Downward dog?  None better. 

I have suddenly become aware that the world is filled with people that are of the male persuasion.  I live in a very small town, and again…I’m not available…but suddenly, there they are…and they’re everywhere.  However, the hot cop in the class suddenly made me not just notice, but actually sit up and take notice.

Perhaps my addled brain is due to the all day boy fest we had yesterday.  Four boys, Pizza, swimming, Journey to the Center of the Earth (in 3D, with glasses!), Tae Kwon Do & Cub Scouts.  When I finally put the boys into bed, I gave them the 3B lecture.

“Don’t come and get me unless you are bleeding, barfing, or have a broken bone.”  Susan reminded me today that *house on fire* should be in that category.  Gymnotes #1 came in with blood on his foot, but they were giggling, so I assume it was a manufactured injury.

I watched Generation Kill, and How to Look Good Naked.  Finally fell asleep, blissfully at 11:30 or so.  Just needed some down time.  Am going out of town for a quick LA trip, this being my last weekend before work on August 5th.  As I’m typing this, they are yelling for me to play Monopoly. 

Hot Yoga.  Cures what ails you.

*There’s only one place left I want to go*

I gave a pint of blood today, and this song came on my iPhone.  The absolute best cover I’ve heard of this song.  Roberta Flack.  A million years ago…fast forward to Leona Lewis.  If you have time, crank up your speakers.  Amazing.

  • Tomorrow is the last day of Summer School.  I’m ready, they’re ready.  We had our book party today, where everyone brings something that represents their novel.  Great stuff by all, but one kid brought his car keys.  He said, “They drive a lot in this novel.”  I looked at him and said, “Dude, do you know what got you into this class?  Crap like that.  Trying to snow the teacher, trying to do the least amount of work and be funny.”  He said, “Yes Ma’am.”  I love that.  He is bringing something else tomorrow.
  • We did oral reports.  They had to persuade the class on any topic.  Legalizing marijuana.  Big big topic and arguments.  One kid said, “If someone is bulimic, you could just give them a joint, and then they’ll eat.”  Oy.  I had to clean up a mess there.
  • Olympics.  Is anyone else as obsessed with them as me?  I love the whole thing:  the pre-matches, the games, the pomp, the athelete’s stories.  I’ve even scheduled my book group to happen BEFORE that week. 
  • My book group.  My turn.  We are reading:For Mona, my dear friend who just had her first treatment in a long, ugly summer of treatments.
  • The brick.  You may remember the story of my father’s brick.  Here it is:It’s finally in.  Long, long story.  5 years in the making.  When it was finally put in, with the right year, our man Ken said, “At this point, it would be easier to change your dad’s transcripts than to get another brick!”  I think it’s hilarious. 
  • My sons and their KEEP OUT signs.  When Gymnote #1 was mad at me the first time, he wrote a sign, and put it on his door.  It was the first time he asserted this particular sentiment: 
  • Last week, Gymnote #2, left me a similar note:  I’m not the best Mom, but I let my kids have their feelings, and sometimes even their privacy.  Heh.
  • The Library is having a book sale.  50 cents a book.  I’m going back tomorrow to stock up for my new class.
  • Ding.  Time to get ready for Bass Lake.  It’s 106 here, and 25 degrees cooler there for next week.

*Lyrics from Jon Bon Jovi; Who Says You Can’t Go Home?*