A Different Kind of Twitter Party

Within one week of moving into the “new house”, five years ago, I received an early morning wake-up call.

I detest early morning wake-up calls.

This particular “howdy” came at 4:00 in the morning.

That’s not even morning time, people!

It hailed from the birds (and I can only assume there were one hundred and seventy-two of them from the cacophony they made) all perched on the one branch hanging closest to my bedroom window.

Sweetman, bless his heart, was sawing logs.

That’s snoring, for you uninitiated.

But these birds, they were determined to have an all-out twitter party. Right outside my bedroom window. I could not, no matter how hard I tried, fall back to sleep with All The Tweeting.

I envisioned a Lookout Bird peeking in my blinds for signs that I was nodding off.

“Twitter… NOW!” I imagined it saying to his tweety peeps.

And they did. Oh, how they did!

For hours.

This same party happens every year around the same time of year.

As in, now.

So, last night…

“I have children to mother, you birds!”

They were unfazed.

I rattled the window.

Ah, that stopped them!

For five seconds.

I decided that a change of venue might lure me back to sleep. So, I tip-toed downstairs and read a Good Word. I wrote a few not-so-good words. I prayed some desperate-for-sleep words.

No sleep.

I trudged back up the stairs hoping, praying, that the dratted Twitter Party was over.

Alas, it was not.

So, I decided to make a game of it by giving each different tweeter a name.

Sarge was the most vocal. And it may well have been a female, because I know in this house…

Sweetpea was melodic. I didn’t mind her so much.

Doodle seemed to have trouble staying with a train of tweet. I feel ya, birdie.

Brutus gave loud quick calls in the midst of all the twittering. Maybe he was the flock’s governing official?

On and on it went. It was quite the twitter party, only, one I had no desire to be at.

And then, finally, somewhere in the midst of Doodle and Sweetpea’s duet, I fell asleep.


Only to wake up to my sweetchildren announcing, “Mama! Wake up! The birds are singing.”


After five years, I’ve finally gotten smart. For, today, I asked Mr. Google, “How do I scare away unwanted birds?”  He was not very helpful, as most of the advice provided involved finding an acceptable noise to drown out the singing. Useless because 1) I already use a box fan for sound and 2) Snore-a-saurus is in the bed next to me.

Wading through talk of territorial males and migratory bird law, I was able to uncross my eyes long enough to stumble across a possible solution.

If you need me, I’ll be searching for bird netting. And stringing it across every tree in my front yard.

And, if you don’t hear from me for a couple of days?

It worked.


Twenty-Two Times a Day

In my sidebar over there, where I introduce myself, I tell you that I try to remember that I’m saved by grace, mishap by mishap.  And I do! There are days… Oh, there are days, where it feels like I’m stumbling through a dozen mishaps, one right after the other. And then some.

Anyone else have days like that?

Hours like that?

And, it’s not even Monday?

Sweetman and I are attempting to establish healthier eating patterns around this house. But, there I am, reaching for the candy corn right in front of little eyeballs? At 7:25 in the morning.

I get good at telling the sweetkids to remember to speak about others the way Jesus speaks about us. And then I turn around and utter harsh words about the turtle driving in front of me.

The Twitterverse calls, and I answer. So lost in a sea of favorite-ing and replying that I forget to set an alarm to leave in time for an important doctor’s appointment.

In fact, just this morning, this happened:

And the littles in this house need underwear, for the love!

But then, Grace is faithful to enter into my myriad in-competencies. Softly He enters a momentary mishap and overwhelms it with His kindness, gentleness, and humility. He is waiting to rain down on my mishap mania. And when He does, I am washed clean.


And again and again.

Like last night. I had some harsh words for Sweetman, venting them from the safety of the kitchen. I know that each one that ejected from my mouth was more rotten than the last. Until, That One grabs a hold of my tongue, and helps me determine, in my heart first, that an apology is needed. Only, as I round the corner, I find that man clickety-clacking away, with his earphones on, never having heard a word of it.

Thank you, Grace.

Whatever mishap I’m mired in at the moment, the daily grace waiting for me is immeasurable. Literally. More than I could ask or imagine! And He provides it all, every time, already knowing that I was going to need it.

While I’d like to think that some of my ridiculousness must shock The God Who Made Me, the reality is that He is never surprised.

There is an indescribable beauty in that truth – that I can’t surprise the God of Grace.

It brings comfort in the midst of all the mishap mayhem.

At least twenty-two times a day.


This post is day 22 in the Write 31 Days challenge.

Day 22. I don’t want to overstate here, but Y’all! Commitment and I may end up coming to terms. Stay tuned.

I Used To Think I Needed People

I used to think I needed “people”.

Last year, if you had asked me if I could ever see myself joining an online Bible study, I may well have gotten a good long chuckle out of the question. I’m a people person, you see.  I am invigorated and filled with joy at being with others.  Being able to reach out and hug the neck of a friend, or lay a reassuring hand on the shoulder of another mama, or look into the eyes of a sister and share in some joy with her?  That’s The Stuff I live for.

But, God…

He had other plans for me.

Life turns, as it is want to do. And as I looked around me at All The Quiet and the lack of necks to hug, I realized that I had a choice to make.  I could say #YesToGod in whatever He had for me in this new season; or, I could stand with my hands clenched tight wondering about the road ahead and what it would look like and where it would lead and if I would like it and… That’s no way to spend a day. Or a season. It’s just not.

So… I heard the messages God seemed to be sending me.  The ones he sent through His Word. The ones He sent through precious friends urging me to stay plugged in, For The Love.  He sent me a podcast or three, and a radio broadcast or two, and a magazine article or four, about the growing trend of online Bible study.

Light dawned on this marble head of mine.

I heard.

My heart said, “Yes God. I will do this thing. I’ll engage right here.”

Although it felt like a small thing, this yes to God, it wasn’t.

I am beginning to see that it was a surrender. And a beautiful one at that.

I stood ready to be amazed by what this new obedience would bring.

And, what did it bring?

It brought a much deeper appreciation for the self-discipline required to crack open the Word of God with the intent of digging in deeper. Without a team to urge you on in person, or a table with 10 sets of eyes looking at you for your next thought on a passage of scripture, or the agenda for the next hour and a half in front of you and the clock to remind you that you need to stick to it.  Thank God for giving us a spirit of self-discipline!  I’ve been needing that Spirit, something fierce, these last few months.

This particular “yes” to God brought a realization of how very different the rhythms of online Bible study are than in real life Bible study.  Instagram, Twitter, Facebook, and blogs are all available to me 24/7.  I can hop on and engage in a conversation about what all of this obedience looks like whenever I am able, or whenever I feel led to.

And, maybe most significantly, my “yes” brought me back to an awareness of my need for daily grace. What attempts to compete for God’s attention for you, my friend?  Because, this little sinner can tell you, the list is long over here.  L.O.N.G.  And it can even get a little whack-a-mole ish.  My husband pops up and says things like, “Hey! Remember me?  We used to kiss a lot.”  And just when I think I’ve got the endless stream of twitter feed/facebook status/blog comments under control,  the Sweet Children pop their noses up close to mine and attempt to nuzzle, reminding me that there is real life love to be given, too.  And don’t even get me started on the dust bunnies that come out of nowhere, the books piled high in hopes of being read, or the magazines from 2011 that hope to be perused in this decade.

That little yes that I uttered? It brought a beauty to obedience that I’d never seen before.  It brought a startling beauty to surrender. I can maneuver through my day knowing that God will be woven throughout every thought, word, and deed.  I can do no thing apart from Him anyway.


In saying yes, God gave me the eyes to see and the ears to hear that I don’t necessarily need “people”. But I do necessarily need Him.

And in Him I will remain.

Yes indeedy.

I’m participating in a weekly blog hop over at Proverbs 31 Ministries’ Online Bible Study.  If you’d like to read how other hearts are responding to the book “What Happens When Women Say Yes to God” by Lysa TerKeurst, click the button below!


Chippy and Chirpy

I’m tryin’ to get on the “tweet” bandwagon.  It’s slow-going.  And to make matters worse, it’s an election cycle.  Yay.  Don’t get me wrong. Those who know me in real life, know dern well how likely I am to “share” my opinions on political matters.  I’m not one to shy away from a healthy discourse on politics.  (And, yes, I know I could have simply written IRL, but then The Nana wouldn’t know what I was talking about.  I’m moving her into the techno realm ever-so-slowly, you see.)

I am, however, one to shy away from chirpy tweets that border on the preachy.  And I know preachy, folks.  Oh yes, indeedy.  Just ask my family.  I get all “Thou shalt NOT…” from Mount Washmore on them at least once a week.  At least.

But here’s the thing I wish about Twitter.  I wish that you could somehow turn off all of the commentary that you don’t really want to have to scroll through.  My time is precious, as is my vote; but, it’s my time!  And I want to use it to go right to the conversations that I really want to take part in.  Not to have to wade through chirpy chirp chirp after chirp about how this one went all “HOLLAH” on your party and that one went all “DIS” on your party.  For Pete’s sake… Can’t a girl just get a good dip recipe and fly away?

And speaking of dips, let’s talk about a little something I like to call… torture.  You see, dips are a part of our weekly meal planning.  Really. Not even kidding. At least once a week.  But, because I’m making an effort to get back on the healthy eating train, I’m counting my chips again. Gah, that sounds so draconian.  I’m talking good ol’ points counting and such.  It’s what works for me.

Anyhoo, Sweetman can be a bit daft when it comes to “helping” me count those chips.  I ask you, are there about 24 of those little round ones (because you get WAY more than with the big blue ones)?  You tell me.

Count em’ up!

Well, let’s check out the bowl that was set down in front of me from a different angle, shall we?

Uh, Houston, we have a problem!

Sweet Mound Of Mercy, I think not!  And, of course, once set in front of me, I feel the need to finish them right off because, c’mon y’all, the kids were just put down for bed and I certainly don’t want to have to open up the crinkly chip bag to put the leftover ones back. Right?  Can I get an Amen?

Alas… I think I’ll start counting with the next Diptastic Dinner.  Yes, yes indeed.  That sounds about right to me.

Like Me, Friend Me, Burn Me

No, this is not a manifesto on how to go through an ugly friendship break-up. Yes, it probably is more like an open letter to The Nana. For those who found this post by searching for stories on friendships-gone-wrong, I’m sorry.


I’m hoping that if you haven’t already, you will take the time to “be my friend” on Facebook and “follow me” on Twitter, and all them good thangs.  And… if you haven’t signed up to get my posts sent to you automatically by email, did you know you can? (A word to The Nana – I’m talkin’ to you!  You don’t have to hunt around on that pesky computer-desktop-white-bar thingy and punch in the name of my blog by hand. “Every. Single. Derned. Time!”  Nope, you don’t!)


So, here ya go.  Easy peazy:

Click here to go like my Missindeedy Facebook Page.


Click here to go follow me on Twitter.



And, lastly, because I’m ultra tech-saavy, look to the right of this post.  See all the green boxes with labels like “Recent Posts”, and “Archives”, and things like that?  There’s a box that says “Follow Missindeedy Via Email”.  Click that one.  (Yes, Nana, that one!) Click it and then type in your email address.  Voila`!  You are signed up to get new posts as soon as they come out.  (Yes, Nana, you may attempt a “fist pump thingy”.  You’ve earned it!)  Or, if you are so inclined, click the “Feed Me” green box to do that burny thing with your RSS Feed.  (I totally don’t get that whole process – but hey, some of you do, so kudos to you!)


And if you, Sweet Reader, just did any of those things?  Thank you loads!  (Virtual Fist Bump or High Five to you. Whichevs.)