Author Archives: Angela

A Bitter Pill

According to a poster attached to our family pediatrician’s office wall, most children learn to swallow pills at five years of age. Add ten years to that number to learn how old I was before I could accomplish that task!

While most 15-year-olds were able to take two Tylenol tablets for a fever, I had to chew eight little salmon-colored St. Joseph’s baby aspirin to reduce a temperature of more than 100 degrees.

Finally, in my Nana’s kitchen the summer before my sophomore year of high school, I accomplished swallowing a doctor prescribed capsule. Now, with nearly 20-years of pill swallowing experience, I still struggle to get those little buggers down my throat.

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Waking Up In Someone Else’s Dream

Big dreams. Would it be too presumptuous of me to write that we all have them? Perhaps. I have them. Sure, many of my dreams are seeded in reality or at least in the realms of human possibility, but I have them.

In fact, I’ve had dreams for a long time. I’ve even kept record on lists: dream vacations; top 20 places to visit before I’m 50; family activities; etc. Sadly, many of the dreams and wishes I’ve penned on paper are not mine. They never belonged to me. I named them, talked about them excitedly, and hung on to them as a rope connecting to my future.

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The Fight Over Baby Jesus

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning. John 1:1-2 (NIV)

My children were playing happily together in the living room while I was cleaning up the breakfast dishes. As I poured powdered detergent, complete with a lemony fresh scent, into my dishwasher, a loud scream startled me.

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! You are not suppose to put Baby Jesus in your mouth. Give him back.â€

Thus ended the playing happily portion of this story.

My nearly five-year-old daughter had taken baby Jesus from our Christmas crèche to show her 20-month-old little brother, who was cutting some molars and decided that the ceramic baby would nicely substitute as a teething ring.

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What am I Worth?

It’s funny how life changes. What was once considered a thrill can now be dreadful. For instance, I use to love getting mail. I had lots of pen pals and couldn’t wait to read the latest news from a friend in Iowa, Philadelphia, or Germany. Today, I’m not so much into getting the mail unless it is my birthday, Christmas card season, or I’m expecting a care package for the kids. Why the change of heart regarding the postal system? Because bills, like the ones that were once only addressed to my parents, are now addressed to me. I’ll be honest, once the bills are paid and groceries are bought, and other household necessities are purchased, there is not a whole lot left over.

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Lower Your Stinger

Several days ago, I discovered a small scorpion that had somehow been trapped between the screen and the glass portions of my back door. Fortunately, the species of scorpions that live here are harmless. They sting, but do not inject a fatal dose of poison. Relieved that it couldn’t seriously harm my kids or me I tried to figure out how I could kill it. Since it was an unusually cold day and scorpions are supposed to be hibernating during this time of the year, I determined that the safest way was to simply let it succumb to the elements.

Do not gloat when your enemy falls; when he stumbles, do not let your heart rejoice-Proverbs 24:17 NIV

When evening came, I knew that the scorpion would soon be a goner.

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A Dash of Salt

Until six months ago, I had something in common with more than 4 million teenagers. Nope, there are no Justin Timberlake or Taylor Swift ditties in my iPOD, in fact I don’t even own an iPOD. Nothing in my closet bears an Abercrombie & Fitch label, and if I say something is “off the bone†I’m probably referring to a breast of chicken, not a party. So what could this über quirky mommy of two possibly have had in common with a fifteen-year-old? It was all in my grin. My tin-grin. I wore braces as an adult.

When someone with small teeth and sensitive gums dons the latest in orthodontic fashions she’s likely to encounter a few canker sores or other mouthy maladies.

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If only I could eat my words

I love object lessons. One of my favorite illustrations involves toothpaste. Each participant is given a travel-sized tube of toothpaste, a paper plate and one ooey-gooey mission: squeeze the tube dry. After the tubes are flattened, participants receive a tooth pick and are given the daunting task of putting the tooth paste back into the tube. It’s an impossible feat. The lesson? Words are like toothpaste. Once they’re piped out, they cannot return.

I was reminded of the power of words last year when my husband, a professor, read through student evaluations. While most students expressed positive feelings about the classes and astuteness of their instructor, a few malevolent comments were among the mix.

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Focus On Love

During a brisk morning walk that doubled as prayer time, I talked with the Lord about some anxiety I carried with being new to my city. While I consider cultivating friendships a joy, I’m always a bit nervous meeting people for the first time. Most of my fears fall under an inferiority complex I hold in the intelligence department.

Did I ever mention that I used to have panic attacks whenever the commercial for the game show Are You Smarter than a Fifth Grader aired? Feel free to laugh at that one. I won’t blame you, but know, I’m not making that up for laughs, it really use to happen.

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