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About Eric’s Wife

Some may say I am a "Stay at home Mom," but that is not even close. I am Eric's Wife. I have exhilarating strokes of genius, followed almost immediately by paralyzing pangs of self doubt and, for whatever reason, here is where I blog about it - warts and all. I serve a merciful God with a clumsy hand and at the end of each day I go to sleep thankful to be His servant and Eric's wife.

Trumping Lucado, with all Due Respect

November 8, 2016

He just couldn’t be silent any longer.  Our political climate has been charged for several years, but the pitch recently became so shrill that Max Lucado finally had to say something.

Mr. Lucado has been a mature and sound source for pastoral care and wisdom for as long as I have known to seek one out.  I cannot recall a time when he has ever spoken out about politics, though he says there have been three times in more than forty years.  Because his is not a voice we are accustomed to hearing in the political talking points sphere, we all took a moment to listen.

His concern lays with the large number of Christians who have wholeheartedly gotten behind the political campaign of Donald Trump, seeming to believe Trump when he declares that he is a Christian.  The evidence Trump offers for his devout faith in Jesus Christ as his Lord and Savior is that he owns a Bible, among other equally compelling things.

Mr.Lucado, with grace and humility, carefully laid out the fruit that testifies against Mr.Trump’s declared piety, and it was all pretty damning.  It is not up to us whether or not someone is a Christian.  If they say they are, they are.  Now, when someone says that they are a Christian for the sole purpose of earning your trust, or your vote, then you need to give them a little side eye.  Special prudence is necessary for Christian leaders who choose to endorse, or publicly not endorse, political candidates.

I felt the weight of Mr.Lucado’s words and know that he carefully weighed each one before offering his thoughts.  I am thankful that he put his voice out there and got a conversation started in places where it may have never happened.

And then, I marveled at the abortion industry.

From the beginning of time, our Christian documents record an enemy who has haunted our infants.  In the time of Moses, it was the infant sons, Jezebel offered them on an altar to Baal, Herod slaughtered all males aged two and under.  This is not a new story to us.  Christians are well aware of our enemy’s blood lust for the youngest among us.

Yesterday’s altars have been replaced by today’s abortion clinics and child sacrifice has been cozily re-created to look like a gynecological procedure best kept between a woman and her physician.  What used to be blood stained rocks is now a simple office visit and a co-pay.  Our enemy has been ravenously active under the banner of “Reproductive Rights”, and Roe-v-Wade is his founding document.

I marvel at the abortion industry because they have taken this great and terrible violence and marketed it so well as a modern political talking point that our greatest of great Christian leaders remained silent for forty years when politicians said they were a Christian, waved a Bible, and then enthusiastically championed the death of life at its most fragile for any reason and up to the ninth month.  Even as Christians line up to vote for these leaders who cling to God and abortion with no sense of irony, our pastors remain silent.  Because politics.

I do not write this to take a swipe at Mr.Lucado, this is more about what he represents – a pastoral generation of men, lulled into hyper unawareness, who step aside in the face of the slaughter of millions of children, who we know have listened to politicians say they are Christian and then, to America’s largest provider of abortion, “God bless you”, without even a flutter.  Call yourself a Christian and wish God’s blessings on abortion providers, fine, but don’t make fun of handicaps or menstrual cycles or so help me, I will stop this car.

Abortion is not a legal matter, though it is handled in courts.  It is not a medical procedure, though it is carried out by physicians.  Abortion is murder.  It comes with lots of complicated back stories, but the bottom line is that it is a deliberate end to a unique, God created life.  We have lost 54,000,000 individuals in this country since 1973.  Fifty four million.  Would it feel heavier if I said fifty four million and one and that one had brown hair, freckles, and loved pickles?

Though it is not heavily covered on the front pages, the abortion industry has been under a lot of heat recently.  Thousands are tirelessly working to see an end to this horror and they are gaining ground.  We are now at 10 states who have cut funding to Planned Parenthood, the Wal-Mart of abortion providers, and many more are in talks to do the same.  The Center for Medical Progress produced several high quality and massively damning videos which look inside the practices of America’s abortion providers.  The unedited and edited versions of these videos, which expose fetal organ sales, deliberate forcing of breach presentation to ensure better organ harvesting (highly dangerous and illegal practice) have been available since early summer and they are not going away.  In addition to their work, there have been others who have gone undercover multiple times to expose evidence of abortions offered to underage girls who are likely victims of sex trafficking.  An estimated 100,000 underage girls become involved in sex trafficking in the United States every year.  Before their eighteenth birthday these girls are subjected to several abortions and no abortion doctors speak up to maybe, I don’t know, STOP THE TRAFFICKING.  (If you think the videos are not damning or you believe that they are edited to make abortion providers look bad, I am going to suggest that you only hold that opinion because you have not watched one and are depending on the reviews from others who have also not watched them.   Just  watch one.  For more on Planned Parenthood’s known involvement in child sex trafficking, go here.)

The day will soon come when truth wins and the bright light of day shines on the hideous face of our infant slaughter, just as the light of day shone on the sins of slavery.  If you are a leader in the Christian community, this is the time to stop ignoring abortion.  It does not mean that you need to have pro-life rallies in your worship center or even wear a ribbon when you preach, but let your words show that you are aware that God’s oldest enemy is actively killing babies and, when a politician waves a Bible and boasts of their commitment to the murder of innocence, let that trump all other reasons to clear your throat and speak up.  End the infanticide and watch God cleanse this land.



*I wrote this back in March when it was a trending topic.  I hate treading these waters, so I delayed posting.  Please, leaders, Jezebel is ravenous for our young and our men shrug in fear.  Where is our Elijah?


I Left Social Media For Two Months and Your Jaw Will Drop When You See The Results

August 5, 2016

Not really. I mean, I did leave social media, but your jaw won’t drop. You may read this article and be inclined to say, “Huh. Modestly interesting,” but modestly interesting doesn’t bring the boys to the yard, so I went with “jaw dropping.” Trade secret.

I am sure that you, dear reader, have never woken up at two in the morning and checked social media. I did that often. Not that I set my alarm for 2am and then woke up to check, but rather, I would find myself waking up for no reason (well, I am going through the change, so there’s that) and then picking up my phone to check because why not.  Now, when I wake up at 2am or 3am or 4am or all three because, mercy, Fried Green Tomatoes was a documentary, well, now when I wake up I just go back to sleep.  Is that so wild?  I know.

My church is currently doing a series about being a good neighbor.   Leaving social media pared my social circles down to only people that I actually see in the flesh.  Like, my neighbors, for example.  I deleted my account because I wanted to work on my book and step away from the noise.  Finding myself with a suddenly tiny social circle was a very unexpectedly pleasant surprise.  It’s not like I was a jerk.  I have had lunch with my dear neighbor Ms.Rose before, but the last few times that I have spent with her seemed different, like I was fully with her and not even a little bit wondering if I had any notifications or if my phone was charged or, frankly, where my phone even was.

I am reminding myself of my Dad, who waited about ten years longer than everyone else to get an answering machine.  It seemed like a silly thing to not own, but he reasoned that it was a small bit like a leash that would make him not fully unavailable when he wanted to be fully unavailable.  Being fully unavailable is almost impossible anymore, but you can wrestle out tastes of it here and there.

My goal is an Oct. 16 deadline to get 30,000 words all typed out, printed out, and then stuffed in a drawer to mature for six weeks before self editing.  I am on track and not so convinced that ditching social media is helping me write any more than I would if I was still engaged, but I am appreciating the new flavors.  Try it.


My 100: 2016

July 8, 2016

100 things about me; also could be called 100 points in a stream of consciousness.    I know that tens of you are eagerly awaiting my return to Facebook, so I wanted to give you this and thank you for feeding my ego with your occasional messages.  I love you and I mean it.

  1. The internet taught me how to make the best pie crusts in the world.  Thank you, internet. The secret to my pie crust is lard.  I now buy lard by the bucket.  #Texasforever
  2. I also use lard when I make tortillas.  Nice, paper thin, slap your mama and die happy tortillas.  I make them, and I shamelessly show off for company.
  3. I initially used the Pioneer Woman’s tortilla recipe, but then I found it too tedious and made it  my own.
  4. Doing anything better than Pioneer Woman (even if it is all in my head) makes me feel like some sort of homemaking extreme sport champion.  She thinks she’s sooo great, but I’m over here eating tortillas, so there.  (I’m only kidding, Ree.  I am a closeted and jealous follower.)   pioneer
  5. We joined Amazon Prime six months ago and I quickly discovered that a privilege of membership meant that I could get a free e-book sent to my Kindle reader every month.  “Free” means that virtue flies out the window and I am now a closeted lover of chick lit.
  6. I don’t think I could ever really be a successful closeted anything, on account of my over sharing habits and my access to social media.
  7. Social media.  Oh, social media.  You are about to get a few lines in this stream, because, I love you.
  8. And, I dislike you.  You see, social media, you have allowed me to share my deepest thoughts with my third cousin three states away and that is seriously way cool.  You have also shared with me 10 ways to be a better me, how to go Paleo, why my political opinion is evil. why my political opinion is awesome, why my religion is all about love, why my religion is all about hate, and why that one kid I knew in the 7th grade hates heavy pulp in orange juice.  Social media, you are the living embodiment of TMI.
  9. As a writer and performer by nature, Facebook was like my heroin.  I could type out a few lines and get immediate feedback.  My need to write and entertain was met effortlessly.  Satisfied, I found any other use of writing skills to be work.  And who needs work in their life?  I know I don’t.
  10. Writing a book is work.  I had no idea.  All you have to do is sit down and type.  The end.  Just sit down and type.  That’s it.  It is awful and I do not enjoy it.
  11. But, like making a great pie, my favorite part is having made it.  My favorite part of writing is having written. FB_IMG_1419374925388
  12. Stephen King wrote a book called “On Writing”.  Read it, but you can’t borrow my copy.
  13. He spends time in that book talking about your writing space.  He says that you should not have a TV in the room because, even if it is off, you will wonder what is on.  At first I was smug because I do not have a TV in my writing space.  And then, I got a Facebook notification and I remembered that I should spend a few hours scrolling Facebook to make sure I didn’t miss anything.
  14. Stephen King also wrote a book called “Carrie” about a homeschooled kid and her trauma at entering a public school.  Maybe it is more nuanced than that, but, a friend reminded me recently of this book book when I told her that
  15. My daughter wants to go to public school next year after being homeschooled since day one.
  16. Thanks for the book review, friend.  carrie
  17. I am learning that Lamaze breathing methods apply well to all stages of parenting.
  18. My daughter is brave in a way that inspires me.  She seeks out hard things, high trees, challenging people, and difficult places and she is victorious more often than not.
  19. I am not brave like she is.  If I take a leap, it is because I am a naive optimist who believes the landing will be soft and easy.  More often than leaping, I stay on the ground and play it safe.  She is a brave, thoughtful, careful, and earnest leaper.  I want to be like her when I grow up.
  20. One time I took a huge leap and went to Moscow, Russia for an experimental hematopoietic stem cell transplant to shut down and reverse some of the MS I had for 18 years, so, I know I am capable of brave leaps, but only when I wear my Captain Oblivious cap.
  21. Eric and I were in Russia for 7 weeks.  On week one, we went to a mob front restaurant.  They seemed surprised to see us come in and managed to rustle up a Pepsi and some wings for us after about an hour.  No other customers came in, though we saw men in three piece suits come in with duffel bags, walk through a curtain, and then leave empty handed.  My doctor advised us against returning.  Da. jugular
  22. Part of the treatment included a course of chemotherapy.  The timing of it meant that, on the date of my 35th birthday, I entered the isolation ward of Pirogov hospital in Moscow, Russia, where they wordlessly shaved my head, took my clothes, and left me to sit on my hospital bed and suddenly realize that I was in the isolation ward of Pirogov hospital in Moscow, Russia, where they wordlessly shaved my head and took my clothes.
  23. Oh, and the Russians put a line in my jugular WHILE I WAS WIDE AWAKE.  That sentence is part of my life story and even I can’t believe it.
  24. For my 35th birthday my darling husband bought me a fur hat, because of course he did.  How on earth could you let your drama queen bride go bald during a Russian winter and not get her a fur hat? furs
  25. He also got me the stole to match.
  26. We brought the lovely furs home and left my wheelchair.
  27. I am three months away from my 39th birthday and remain at a very low level of disability.  No more wheelchairs, scooters, canes, disabled parking permits or endless bad days.  Sometimes I think I imagined ever being so ill.
  28. All this Russia talk makes me realize that I AM brave.  Wow.
  29. Sometimes.  Sometimes I am brave.  Memoir writing takes bravery.  I thought I had the gut for it, but now my knees are knocking.  Go for my jugular? Fine.  Go for my inner self?  Whoa.  Slow down.
  30. Did you see what I did there?  I took a second to pat myself on the back for being brave and then immediately reminded myself that I have some work to do.  This list of 100 is like self discovery in therapy.  Good talk.
  31. For the first year of book writing I had no idea what to say when people asked what I was writing.  Now I know that it is a memoir.  About what?  Uhhh…
  32. My goal is to have 30,000 words all typed out by Oct. 16.  At that point, I intend to print the whole thing out and put it in a drawer for no less than six weeks.  Then, I will take it out and see what it is about.  That is all I know.
  33. Oct. 16 is my birthday, according to my Mom, other eye witnesses, and all my birthdays for my whole life.  Oct.17 is my birthday, according to the state of Texas, my driver’s license, and my passport.  It was a typo that was left undiscovered until I went to get my marriage license.   I left it alone to avoid the hassle.
  34. They call the day you get your stem cell transplant your birthday.  I got mine on Oct.17.  The state of Texas finally won.  She always does.
  35. Sometimes I actually spend time wondering what date will appear on my tombstone as my birth date.  I hope they get it right.
  36. Thinking about my tombstone leads me to wondering if I will ever see death.  I suppose this is not too weird a thing for a Jesus follower to wonder.  What if He returns before I die?  What would that be like?
  37. I have a great aunt who told me a story about the night she was baptized at 17.  She walked home from church and prayed that she would never die, but would see Jesus’ return.  I’m not saying that Jesus is returning any time soon, but she is 93 and older than any member of her family has ever aged.  So, I think about that when I think about tombstones.
  38. My brother’s tombstone has his senior picture on it.  He didn’t age much beyond that, having died at 22.  sandy
  39. I hope the last picture I take is professionally done and shows my good side like a senior picture.  I would just about die if I thought my last picture was a surprise shot of me in my housecoat, with red eye and an open mouth.  I guess it wouldn’t matter, but the thought gives me pause.
  40. Our family cemetery plot is now full.  This leads me back to point #36.  I really need Jesus to return before I die or else I am going to end up resurrecting with a bunch of people I don’t know.
  41. Tombstone is also a brand of frozen pizza.  I have no reason to bring that up except to get over talking about dying already.
  42. Eric loves to have a frozen pizza in the freezer at all times.  Like a loaded gun in the nightstand, you just can’t plan the day you will need it, so you best be prepared.
  43. Eric is a Boy Scout drop out, but I really think he dropped out because he learned all he needed to know at Cub Scout level.  I will follow his prepared rear end anywhere.
  44. One day we rearranged the furniture in our room and I did not put a table by my side of the bed.  Eric says, “Where do I put your coffee?”  I moved the table.  Swoon.
  45. That same furniture rearrangement meant that the bed was moved.  On the first night I went to the bathroom and then returned to our very dark room and threw myself on the floor.  Eric woke with a start and says, “It sounded like you just threw yourself on the floor!”  Well.
  46.  The only thing more weird than me throwing myself on the floor is Eric speaking in complete sentences in the seconds after being wakened.  That’s the part I remember the most.
  47. Eric clings to sleep like it is a door floating in the frigid North Atlantic during the sinking of the Titanic.  “I’ll never let go.  I… I… I’ll never let go…”
  48. I think that one of the fun perks about marriage is sharing a bed.  You learn a whole lot about a person in 16 years of falling asleep and waking up next to them.
  49. I remember when I thought we had been married forever and it was 5 years.
  50. I wish I could put “Eric’s Wife” on a resume.   It is what I am the best at.
  51. This is the part where I start to wonder if I can really do 100 thoughts.  I mean, I started with pie crust and meandered through lard, social media, Stephen King, Russia, tombstones, and now we are talking about my job as Eric’s wife.  I just can’t come up with anything else.  Give me a minute.
  52. You wouldn’t know it, but it has been a few hours since we met up at #51.  I had to help my daughter pack for a mission trip to an Indian Reservation in Arizona.
  53. I did something similar in New Mexico when I was her age.  I had a lot of fun. . . And trouble.
  54. Lamaze breathing… In through the nose….  Out through the mouth…
  55. She will be fine.  I will be fine.  knuckles
  56. Raising teenagers is equal parts white knuckles and “Let Go, Let God.”
  57. I still feel weird when I say I have teenagers.  When I started this blog I had toddlers in diapers.  Now, teenagers.  Sunrise, sunset, sunrise, sunset…
  58. My brothers both had their kids after I did.  I like to think that I am offering them a kind service by raising teens ahead of them so they can observe and take notes.  You’re welcome.
  59. One of the hardest parts for an over sharer about having teenagers is that I cannot tell you anything about them without permission.  It is not like when they were toddlers and I could tell you their poop stories.
  60. Poop stories.  My three nephews were in my house this week helping me in the kitchen and the three year old kept making poop jokes and I kept laughing.  Finally the nine year old told him to go outside until he could control himself.
  61. Aunt Amy enjoys poop jokes.
  62. I love being an Aunt.  It is all the fun of parenting and none of the grief.  Their soul and future is not resting on my shoulders.  All I have to worry about is cookies and carrying them when they forget where their shoes are.
  63. Something I think about every time I carry one of my little nieces or nephews, “OH MY GOODNESS.  I could not walk unassisted four years ago and now I am walking around carrying little kids in my arms.”  Every time.
  64. I cannot carry my own children anymore, though my 13 year old son likes to remind me that he can easily carry me around.
  65. Um, thanks?
  66. Eric was just reading over my shoulder and he told me that “Um, thanks?” is not a separate thought and should not have its own line in this stream of conscientiousness.
  67. Tonight’s dinner was fettucine alfredo with chicken and sauted mushrooms, tossed salad, and garlic toast.  All homemade.  I thought it would be appropriate to tell you what I generously made for dinner just after exhibiting for you the daily harassment that I endure.
  68. Sometimes Eric says that I like to play the martyr.  I do.
  69. I think my favorite part of pushing forty is that I know myself better than ever before.  I know my scratches and dings and I know that I am unaware of most scratches and dings that I have caused.  I know I sometimes play the martyr and sulk and pout.  I’m working on it, but I forgive myself for tripping.
  70. Making dinner tonight was not about my martyrdom lapses.  I just really wanted alfredo.  My dramatic #68 just reminded me about how fun it is when Eric says I am trying to be a martyr.
  71. (Just kidding.  It is not fun.  But, marital growth IS fun.  Real talk.)  drama
  72. I know that I have used this one in past 100s, but I have to say it again, I am a drama queen.  The good kind.
  73. Shut up.  There are good drama queens.  You don’t even know.
  74. I was once in a small prayer circle and we were talking about our physical posture in public worship.  As they all described their hands raising, dancing in the aisles, clapping along styles, I told them that I mostly just sing along without a lot of outward expression.  As I said it, I wondered out loud, “That is odd, isn’t it?  I am an exceedingly dramatic lady.  Why do you suppose that is?”  My friend’s guess, “Worship renders you physically speechless.”
  75. I have been told that I hold my coffee dramatically.  Also, my phone, my keys, random cutlery, babies, really, whatever I am holding is at my mercy.
  76. One time my family went camping and our reserved spot (super cheap, with no water and PORT-A-POTTIES) also had a decaying deer nearby.  I called the park ranger.  I may have gotten a little dramatic (no swears.)  I don’t know what I said, it was a fog.  All I remember is that the park ranger was suddenly saying, “Okay, Mrs.Peterson, how about I put you up in a screened cabin right by the lake, with running water and hot showers? Free of charge?”
  77. Being a drama queen is like having super powers.  You have to know when to unleash and when to sheath.  I suspect I will come into my full power by age 60 and then go supernova from then on out.  Head’s up.
  78. I don’t actually know what I mean by “supernova”.  “Champagne Supernova” by Oasis was a hit in 1995 and I watched the video on MTV from my hospital room while I was a junior in high school and learning how to walk again.  I still have no idea what that song is talking about, but I imagined that being a champagne supernova meant a super diva blazing across the world’s stage for all to see.
  79. I was not allowed to watch MTV at home, but I decided that being in the hospital meant that my parents had bigger concerns so I watched MTV and VH1.  I really did think about it and rationalize.
  80. I am still an expert rationalizer.  If you need any sin or poor choice rationalized until it is squeaky clean, hit me up.
  81. My book writing goal is 750 words a day, 5 days a week.  Yesterday and today don’t count because I was working on this list and I am already at 2,920 words.
  82. Did you even know that you read 2,920 words so far?  My goodness.  That is a lot of words all over this screen.  You are so sweet to still be with me.  My biggest problem is being way too wordy and saying in 5,000 words what could be said in 10.  Stephen King, you know him, says that the second draft = first draft – 10 percent.  Boy, does he have a great point.
  83. When I was a kid and I heard that a book had 30,000 words in it, I was amazed at the thought that somebody counted all those words.  I tried to count all the words in Little House on the Prairie.  I can’t remember how far I got.
  84. Laura Ingalls Wilder was my childhood best friend and I still think of her often.  “What would she think of this laptop?  Boy, she sure would be amazed at my closet space.”  Oh, Laura.  Forever in my heart.  xx
  85. I tried too hard to force Laura on my kids.  Overkill.
  86. My secret parenting skill is murdering fun things with over enthusiasm.
  87. I was a cheerleader in the fifth grade, but only because tryouts consisted of 1)being a girl in the fifth grade.  I don’t think I ever got enthusiasm timing right.  Our team was bad.  So bad.  And there I’d be, yelling and cheering.  Even as it was only serving to antagonize my own team, I continued, “Got ’em right where we want ’em!!  Whoop!!!”  cheer
  88. My high school team wasn’t much better.  I was a writer for the paper and I wrote an op/ed about how our cheerleaders did a poor job cheering for their team until the bitter end, sometimes even leaving before the end.  I crowed about that piece so loudly that our principal ordered it not printed to avoid fallout.  Being censored radicalized me in some part.
  89. Also, it took me years before I realized how much grief that principal had spared ME.  What high school senior needs a pack of cheerleaders after her?
  90. Aaaand, I am back to Carrie.
  91. I just got a chill.  I have referenced Stephen King throughout this list.  I am nobody, but what if?  What if!?  Mr.King, if you are reading this, I apologize.  I would have tidied things up if I had known you were popping by.
  92. Do you guys not just think I am so ridiculous for thinking Stephen King would read this AND make it all the way to 92?  I am so delusional it is obscene.  Put me away.
  93. Wait.  Don’t put me away.  I just remembered I have precedent.  One time I made a FB update about Lecrae and then he responded.  We are totes besties now. Lecrae-wins
  94.  Eric’s friend, Eddie, introduced me to Lecrae’s music.  Every time I see Eddie I say, “Hey, Eddie!  Did you know that one time I made a Facebook update about Lecrae and he responded?  Huh?  Did you know that, Eddie?”  And Eddie always says, “Yes.  You tell me that every time.”  So, that happens.
  95. An internet outage at work recently meant that Eric and Eddie and another workmate came to our house to work from home.  I was like an Indy pit crew on GO.  Tidy up real quick, start a pot of coffee, oh, and make a quick cherry pie.   You’re in MY office now, boys.
  96. Josh.  The other workmate’s name is Josh.  He is a perfectly nice guy and I know that he would be a little “huh” about seeing his name left off.  It’s just that I had not mentioned him before, so it seemed silly to mention his name, but as soon as I hit enter I worried.
  97. I often overthink what people think about me.  I think about it until it becomes absurd and then I right myself and remember that NOBODY thinks about ANYBODY as much as I think they do and then I am fine.  I do this exercise a few times a day.
  98. If wrestling with and body slamming negative thoughts is exercise, then I am top level WWF by now.
  99. My Dad and brothers watched WWF back in the day and I had a crush on Hulk Hogan.  I am a little shocked that I am ending this 100 thought stream with WWF, but it is what it is.   shrug