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Road Rage

I was out this morning on a couple of errands. I had a plan - make a big contorted loop from one stop to the next, pick up clothes here, get groceries there, drop groceries off there, and back home again. The sun was shining, my shades were on, my "awesome tunes" playlist loudly playing, and I was feeling pretty great. I made my first two stops without incident.

And then, suddenly and without warning, the big hairy road rage monster joined me in the van. With all his fiery fury, he turned me into something I'm not proud of. Made me do and think things VERY unbecoming of a lady… and especially, unbecoming of a child of God.

In my defense, the dude at the receiving end of my big hairy rage monster had his own angry green road rage passenger, spewing angry words (which, of course, I could not hear, and that's probably a good thing) and gesticulating in very impolite ways. Shaking his head and waving his hands and yelling at the top of his lungs. And the horn. Oh the horn!!! Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep!!!! Which, of course, in car-ese, means "WHAT THE HECK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING?????"

I beeped back.

And I yelled too.

And I waved at him in the rearview mirror. JUST WAVED. (I was wearing mittens… even if I had returned the rude gestures he wouldn't have been able to see it. WHICH I DIDN'T!!!! Just to be clear) :) But I waved to be snarky, to show him that his actions had no effect on me. Which they did. But I wanted to make him think that I was completely unaffected and he could just go on his way yelling and screaming and making a complete fool out of himself.

But I was affected. Oh man, was I affected.

After the initial "HEY!!! I'M RIGHT AND YOU'RE WRONG AND DON'T YOU SAY MEAN THINGS TO ME!!!!" wore off, I got thinking. And then the little voice in my heart. "Sooooo… do you think that was the right way to respond?" and then the gentle reminder of a verse that I committed to memory a loooooong time ago: "A gentle answer turns away wrath, but a harsh word stirs up anger." (Prov. 15:1).


I'm glad the kids weren't in the car.

I'm better than this. Or, rather, I need to strive to be better than this. Yes, I'm human. Yes, humans tend to have short fuses. And yes, I expect the rest of humanity to act in a more grownup and respectable manner. But that doesn't release me from the responsibility of rising above. As a child of God, I am to strive to be more like Him. I was made in His image, and the world needs to see me acting more like Him. How else will they understand His mercy and grace and goodness? How else will they know that He is good and patient and kind?

I got home and immediately went to my Bible (app). Searched the phrase "Slow to anger". Here's what I found:

Psalm 86:15 - But you, Lord, are a compassionate and gracious God, slow to anger, abounding in love and faithfulness.
Psalm 103:8 - The Lord is compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, abounding in love.
Psalm 145:8 - The Lord is gracious and compassionate, slow to anger and rich in love.


I was not gracious. I was not compassionate. I was not slow to anger. I was not rich in love. I was a poor example of how a child of the King should be acting. And man, was I glad my kids were not in the car. Because I want them to grow to be good examples of how a child of God should act. And if I'm giving in to my short fuse, yelling and screaming and honking my horn and acting like a little child, regardless of the circumstances or whose fault it is, then I'm showing them how NOT to act.

I'm human. I will fail. But I HAVE to try harder to rise above. To be better than this. To show love and grace and compassion, just like my Daddy. Because more than anything, I want to be like Him. My kids need me to be more like Him. The world needs me to be more like Him.

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Dreams… and heartburn.

So... last night I had a dream. This is not uncommon... in fact, I'm fairly certain that everyone has dreams, but not everyone remembers every dream they have. Well, last night's dream was especially memorable. So memorable, in fact, that I just couldn't resist sharing. Keep in mind... I have had some very weird dreams in the past. But there was just something special about this one. Enjoy.

First, let's back up. Before dreaming the aforementioned dream, I had woken up somewhere in the vicinity of 3:30ish am with some pretty nasty heartburn. Being someone who really enjoys sleep, waking up at 3:30 is not my idea of a party under normal circumstances, so you can imagine my frustration when the reason for my waking was an awful burning sensation in my throat and chest. So after sitting up for a while, drinking some water, and rearranging my pillows, I finally drifted back off to sleep.

The first part of the dream that I remember is that I had a pacemaker, for some reason. (for those who don't know, a pacemaker is a device that is surgically implanted into the chest and connected to the heart, to regulate its rate and rhythm. For more information visit That in itself is strange. But it gets stranger. The dream then turned into a strange mixing of the movies "A Walk to Remember" and "Inception". (which are both fabulous movies.) First, I was with my husband, and we had discovered that Mandy Moore had a fatal illness and did not have long to live. However, we did not want her to know about it, so Steven sent me and Mandy into a multi-leveled dream during which I was to try to keep her from finding out what was wrong with her. He was to stay in "reality" and try to figure out how to save her. So while in this dream within a dream within a dream, Mandy and I visited this swanky hair salon, where she got her hair done by some famous stylist. But in the process, she figured out that she was sick, and called me out for lying to her. So I started shouting "She knows!!! It's time to get out!!! Steven, she knows!!! Bring us back!!!" and the next thing I know, I'm in a hospital somewhere, standing outside the operating room, where Mandy Moore is on the operating table, but the room is on fire and my husband and some other guy are trying to put the fire out. So I'm yelling for him, trying to figure out how to get him out of the fire, when all of the sudden Mandy Moore turns into a giant lizard and starts eating people. I woke up sweating, with my heart pounding, and frantic that my husband was about to be eaten by the Mandy Moore lizard giant.

So there you have it. I'm pretty sure that the fire part had something to do with my heartburn. I don't have a half a clue what was up with the rest of it.

Dreams are quite fascinating. But never have I had one so weird. And that's saying something.

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Glorious Day

This is Casting Crowns' take on an old hymn, One Day. Hidden Treasure (aka. Ben and Jen Martin, Steve and I) will be singing it during worship tomorrow morning, and the song so touches my heart that I thought it appropriate to share. I pray it touches your heart as well.


BooFreaky: Origins

And it begins. I finally surrender to the popular opinion that blogging would be a good idea. I have, on occasion, come up with some clever(ish) compositions as a result of (what I believed to be) nonsensical ramblings, but had not thought of publishing them for all the world to see until very recently. A very wise family member knows a lot about computer-y things and told me that blogging can be a very effective vehicle with which to get rid of things that are weighing on my mind, and being a firm believer in the Tea Kettle Theory, I had to agree to give it a try.

What's that? Never heard of the Tea Kettle Theory? Well, then you're in the right place!!! Pull up a chair, make yourself a nice cup of hot cocoa, and prepare yourself for groundbreaking psychological insight.

The Tea Kettle Theory (to be henceforth referred to as TKT) is a little jewel of wisdom that originated in my very own brain. I was actually quite surprised that I had come up with such a concept. Picture with me, if you will, a tea kettle. This little tea kettle is full of water, and sitting in its rightful place, the stove. The burner is on. The water is heating. You hear sounds of bubbling coming from it, steam is issuing from it, increasing in intensity, until that magic tea kettle whistle alerts you that your water is hot and ready to be poured. Now, picture with me, if you will, a second tea kettle. This one, however, has no vent. There is no place for steam to escape. Same scenario: it sits on the burner, the water within it is heating, but the steam that should be issuing from it has nowhere to go. The pressure is building. What happens to our poor little malformed tea kettle? IT CRACKS!!! The pressure becomes too much for the structure of the kettle and the steam finds other ways to escape. QED, a tea kettle(me) with no vent (release for the ever-increasing "steam") is doomed to crack (go absolutely crazy).

Stunning, I know.

Now, the name of this blog... yeah, not so stunning. Truthfully, it's something that my older (and just as weird) sister and I have said in the past to describe a situation in which people are being far more whiny than we believe necessary. Example: "I just spilled hot coffee on myself because I'm clumsy, but now I'm suing the restaurant because I want to blame someone else for my stupidity." BOO FREAKY!!! Put on your big girl panties, buy some aloe gel, and stop pretending that you could never be responsible for such a blunder.

Let me be clear: we are very compassionate by nature. I don't like seeing people hurt, because I know how much I hate pain. I would offer to buy this person aloe to soothe the tender skin after the coffee has been cleaned off of it. But when you try to make someone else pay for your own clumsiness, well, I just don't have much compassion for that. That's just selfish. But I digress. *the preceding scenario is fictional. any similarity to actual events is purely coincidence.*

That's where the name BooFreaky comes from. There have been modifications to the term. For example, on a particularly cold Rochester winter morning, when the wind chill was somewhere in the negative digits, one of us exclaimed "BrrrFreaky!!!" Or, a closer modification to the original BooFreaky has, on occasion, been "WahFreaky". Once or twice, when dealing with a particularly whiny cat, the word "MeowFreaky" has been said. I believe that, based on the circumstances, adding the word "freaky" to another word could work to express feelings on a subject that no other word could do... but, sadly, the "Freaky" suffix has not yet been recognized by the US educational system, and therefore is not yet widely used. (and by widely, I mean more people than just my sister or myself.)

Long story short, I am now officially the proud owner of a blog. It has a funny name. And my hope is that my funny-named blog will allow me to learn to let things go, and give you all a little peek into the mind of this very tired weirdo. :)