Life is Too Short

I think life is too short to waste time not doing what you love.  If you don’t love you’re job, make it something you love or change it.  If you don’t love your marriage, put the work in and make it incredible.  If you don’t love your house, put in the time to make it beautiful or move on.   If you don’t have valuable friendships, go out and make some friends and really spend time investing in those relationships.   Bottom line, you are not doing anyone any favors by maintaining a miserable state of being.  In order to life a full life sometimes you have to be bold enough to change it.

I am not talking about the American search for happiness.  I am talking about searching for joy.  In searching for joy you are searching for the heart of God.  And that my friends, is where life starts.

Jobs consume about 25% of your life (based on a 40 hour work week).  Sleep consumes about 33% of your life (based on 8 hours of sleep a night).  Not including working overtime, commuting, eating, showering, maintaining the home, and other necessary activities, you are left with 42% of your life to work with.  Here you might spend time with your family, exercise, work on a hobby, enjoy some leisure time… etc.  I lay out these stats to specifically point out just how much time is spent at your job.  I have, and hopefully always will be, a HUGE advocate for doing the work you love, not working to do what you love.  Too many people work 40+ a week and are looking forward to the weekend the moment their Monday morning alarm goes off.  If you know you cannot love the work you are doing please seek something else.  I highly recommend picking up Wrecked: When a Broken World Slams into your Comfortable Life and 48 Days to The Work You Love to help get your started.

Marriage isn’t about you.  Period.  Marriage is about your partner and growing your heart closer to Christ.  If anyone has entered marriage thinking of themselves it will be better to learn sooner rather than later that it isn’t by being served by your spouse, but by serving your spouse that will bring you joy in your marriage.  People say marriage makes you die to yourself, but I say you can only really die to yourself if you want to.  It is all to easy to stay selfish even if you’re married.

Home is the place you rest your head at night.  Whether you are living with your parents, have a crummy apartment, live in a problem house or your parents live with you, you rent a stunning loft, or own a gorgeous home, this is the place to invest some thought.  The best answer isn’t always trying to find the next best place.  Sometimes the best answer is making your current place a gem.  To get started on your own Remaking Home project you can take a look at my experience doing this HERE.

People need people.  No matter who you are.  People need people even if they are married… especially if they are married.  Any one person cannot be your everything.  That is the beauty of fellowship.  For example, my husband doesn’t want to listen to me talk about books, but my Mom loves talking about books.  I would bore my husband to death talking about photography for more than ten minutes, but I could talk about photography all night long with Laura.  And most people wouldn’t listen to me talk about my deepest hurts, but my husband and my family would listen to me until I had no words left.  Like a marriage, friendships are an opportunity for you to grow.  By truly investing in friendships you learn to die to yourself just a little more.  If your friend needs help moving, you clear your schedule and lend a hand.  If your friend lost a loved one, you clear your schedule and show up to the funeral.  If your friend just passed a major milestone like having a baby or publishing a book, you throw a party.  And remember, by loving your friends well you are not only pulling your focus off of yourself but you are loving the heart of God.

Now go love your life!

Racial Profiling

At church this past Sunday (Willow Creek Community Church) Bill took a few moments to discuss the court event that is hot on the press lately.  At a point in the talk he mentioned racial profiling and how white folk couldn’t possibly understand what it is like for an African America father to have to explain racial profiling to his kids in order to keep them best protected, particularly with the cops.  I racked my brain to verify he was right, that I couldn’t understand, but surprisingly I did find a common ground.

While I studied for 5 months in East Africa I almost immediately grew weary of the badgering requests by locals for money – one man even came right up to me while I was working on an essay, sat down next to me, and asked if he could have my computer.  I remember trying to explain myself in all of these encounters.  I tried to explain that I had actually saved up for this trip for a long time and that if I gave them my money I wouldn’t be able to eat lunch and if I gave them my computer I wouldn’t be able to buy another one to do my school work.  Was I ultimately better off than them, probably, but that by no means meant I would be able to survive my trip there if I gave away the meager supplies and funds I had.

It didn’t take long for me to realize that these people were asking me for money and things because I have white skin.  I was a walking wallet to them, not a real, emotional person.  I loathed this.  In fact, I loathed it so much that I grew a strong distaste for most of the locals I came across.  Granted, just a few weeks after I arrived I was brutally mugged so maybe that had something to do with it too.  Regardless, before long it was only the students at my school and my host family, or the host families of other US students, that I felt safe with and like my skin color didn’t matter.  But what was most troubling about this was that I felt completely alone in my feelings.  To this day, I don’t think a single one of the other US students in the program grew a dislike for any one African.  And I wonder if they simply didn’t notice that they were being constantly profiled or that they really didn’t care.

The brief chat about racial profiling this past Sunday liberated me.  I finally realized that I wasn’t alone with my feelings.  If no other whites in Africa shared my feelings I now know at least African Americans do here.  And now I feel for them more than I ever did because I get it.  I get how it feels to be watched by beady eyes.  I get how it feels to not be received with an open mind.  Friends, it hurts to not be seen as a person.  In Africa I was seen as a thing, as money.  Here, I think we too often view African American’s as a threat.  Isn’t it right to view each person with a clean slate until they prove you otherwise – innocent until proven guilty, not guilty until proven innocent?  Just some thoughts.

I’m going out on a limb here.  I may not be politically correct with my words.  But I am trying to view racial profiling through the lens of solidarity.  Truth is, yes I experienced racial profiling.  But the truth also is that I have not experienced the sort of racial profiling that African Americans experience every day here.  I cannot claim complete understanding, but I can at least claim a shred.

What do you think?

Children’s Books | Book Reviews

I love children’s books.  Last week I read through a batch of seven that were recommended in Children’s Writer’s & Illustrator’s Market and I loved all but one.  These were all promised to reveal great writer/illustrator relationships – picture books that the illustrators work not only adds color and animation to the story but actually adds to the story itself.

Here are the six I now want to add to my collection.

Click, Clack, Moo Cows That Type

This is a quirky tale of a farmer at odds with his dairy cows because of a sudden typing ability.  These cows discovered a typewriter in the barn and set to work making demands of the farmer. I was skeptical of this book at first, I figured it wasn’t my type of tale but I’m glad I read it because I giggled my way all the way to the end.

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The Wriggly, Wriggly Baby

A set of new parents finds themselves always trying to hang onto their baby.  This little baby is always on the move and, in this story, gets out of the house for a full day of adventures around town.  Without his trusty sidekicks, dog and cat, in tow this story shares what could have been a bad ending if it weren’t for them. This rhyming book is a great read; the illustrations are colorful interpretations of the adventures in ways that makes them worthy of continuous hearty chuckles.

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The Journey of Oliver K. Woodman

Very simply, this is a story of a niece who misses her uncle.  The tale starts with a letter written by the niece requesting a visit from her uncle.  He replies that he can’t make it but Oliver K. Woodman would love to make the trip in his stead.  The catch, Oliver K. Woodman is actually a life-size wooden doll figurine, so you can imagine how his hitchhiking across the county would be thoroughly entertaining.

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Bertie Was a Watchdog

Bertie is a teeny tiny little mutt.  One night a big, bad burglar enters his home and when Bertie sounds the alarm the burglar simply laughs and starts picking on the pooch.  Bertie is clever though and ultimately outwits the burglar.  This is a feel good tale of how even the seemingly inadequate can prevail if they tap into their unique gifting – the perfect kind of book for teaching kids that just because they can’t do things the way the world says they should doesn’t mean they are any worse off to do the things God has gifted them to.

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A Very Hairy Scary Story

Sarah stayed too late at her friend’s house.  The minute she stepped outside to walk home she was struck with fear of the night and imagines multitudes of terrifying creatures in her midst.  It’s a tale of learning how to obey your parents the hard way isn’t always the best idea but it sure does stick.

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The Day the Goose Got Loose

The goose is a family pet.  One day she gets out and causes trouble in every niche of town.  Ultimately it is a tale of imagination and friendship with a rockin’ rhythm and illustrious drawings.

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I want to know YOU

Today I was snooping around one of the blogs I occasionally check in on (http://jamiedelaineblog.com/) and it struck me that I would like to be known by those I follow.  That being said, I have a new passion for getting to know my readership.  So, today’s blog will remain short because I want YOU to share a short story about yourself with me (comment below or shoot me an email with your story at asunshinemoment@gmail.com).  This is especially for all of you who follow me closely – although some of you I already know very well 🙂

I have a couple other questions for you wonderful friends of mine…

As a follower of my blog or other blogs or a potential follower of my blog or other blogs, what sort of correspondence with the blogger would put you over the moon?
I personally like it when a blogger responds to a comment I leave on their blog or likes or comments on my own posts.

This one is kind of random, but I have been intending to change my blog URL for quite some time now but can’t seem to settle on what I want.  Which URL do you think would be best and why?

  1. blog.asunshinemoment.com (or something like it… from what I understand this draws better and more attention to my business as well)
  2. kaiacalhounblog.com (or something like it)
  3. Do you have any better ideas?

Again, make yourself known by me today!  I would love to be friends 🙂

Skunked Dog

The story of my first skunked adventure with my dogs.

a Photo a Day” blog post is postponed until tomorrow 🙂

Last night I let the dogs out for their ritualistic, before bed time tinkle.  When I hear Sam barking his “I’m super scared and trying to scare something off” bark I run to the door and when I open it two things happen at once: the reek of skunk floods my nostrils and Haley bolts inside.  Curiously though, Sam stubbornly stays outside.  I get nervous because I can’t see a thing and I assume that, since Sam is rooted to the spot, that the skunk is possibly dead or wounded at his feet.  I dart back inside and frantically run around the house turning on the porch light and grabbing my iPhone for a flashlight so I can see what I’m dealing with.

Sam looked unscathed and was alone but had crazy eyes.  I proceed to call him again but he wouldn’t budge.  Finally he moves but only in a tiny arch that keeps him as far away from the back of the house and the door I’m summoning him to as his harness will allow.  I don’t want to dawdle around for fear of the skunk rushing me or Sam so I result to bribing.  I pull out some dog food shake it until Sam forgets the threat long enough to answer my call.

I leave him on the harness in the porch so he can’t touch anything else.  Now that both dogs are safe I go find Haley to check if she stinks.  She does.  In fact, the whole room does because she went directly to the bedroom and rolled all over the bed.

I call her into the bathroom and she is wonderfully obedient as usual.  I tell her to stay while I fetch a towel and a couple other bath necessities and get to work.  I lift her into the tub.  This makes me laugh, as usual, because she does this spread eagle, disjoined air sprawl.  Once she is in I set to work.  I soap her up once, then twice, and then I give her a sniff.  She still reeks but now I can at least pinpoint the place on her body where the smell is coming from.  But I need another plan since the soap proved mostly ineffective.

I leave my shivering dog in the tub while I research solutions.  I found one that required hydrogen peroxide, baking soda, and dish soap; I didn’t have hydrogen peroxide but decided I would have to give it a shot anyway.  I think it helped but she still reeked.

I take a break to give my oddly patient Sam a sniff.  I smell his face. Nothing. I smell his back. Nothing.  I smell his belly.  Nothing.  And I am so convinced at the naughtiness of my dog that I smell every inch of him but I still don’t get even a slight whiff of skunk.  I’m completely floored.  How is it possible that my disobedient, trouble-making Sam was the good dog tonight.  I suddenly realize that he was somehow smart enough to recognize the threat without having to investigate AND had the good grace to alert me of the issue.

Even though Sam doesn’t smell, I’m so convinced that he had to be the culprit that I actually entertain the idea that I’m so used to the smell already that I simply can’t smell it on him.  But that doesn’t hold up because when I go sniff Haley again there is no mistaking that she definitely was skunked.  So I let Sam off the hook and bring him around the house as my investigator.  He promptly reveals to me any areas Haley touched with her skunk face and I gather up all that stuff and pop it in the wash.  I give Sam a grateful pet and squeeze and get back to the bathroom to attend to Haley.

I just sit on my bathroom floor for a while… pondering what I can possibly do to get rid of the stink.  My eyes fall on my Sabon Body Scrub.  I shrug and think “well, it’s worth a shot.”  I am hoping the oils in the scrub will replace and overwhelm the skunk oils.  I scrub her once. Sniff.  And she actually smells significantly better but I still have two troublesome spots to deal with. I scrub her two more times and decide the scrub can’t do any more for me.  So I try the baking soda/dish soap blend again and she’s about as close to clean as I can get her I think.

I lift her out of the tub, dry her off, make her sit, and rub tea tree oil on her face.  And I did it!  After three different methods of washing and a little tea tree oil my dog is odor free!

It is midnight but I quickly give Sam a bath just because I’m already at it, wash myself (half to get the now pouring sweat off of me and half to secure my own odor-free state), rotate the laundry, make the bed with spare sheets, and crawl into bed with my two clean, but semi-damp pups and fall asleep smiling.