At Home in the Desert

I went home this past week--home being Carlsbad. It was Spring Break here, so I took advantage of the opportunity to get the heck out of Dodge! If you’ve never been to Carlsbad, it’s a smaller town in the desert in southern New Mexico along the Pecos River. When I got back from the mission field, my experiences with reverse-cultureshock and re-entry caused me a significant amount of frustration with the place where I grew up. I haven’t gone home much over the years as a result. Time is a great mellowing agent and my attitude is changing. I’m finding Carlsbad more intriguing these days, as well as a place to appreciate.


I took my dogs with me, an interesting adventure in and of itself. Picture if you will two dogs, one a Golden Retriever and the other making up for what she lacks in size with a frightening energy (I like to think it’s a zeal for the Lord), and a little white, 2-door Honda Civic. They behaved very well, though, and I think they even had fun.


My parents, as most of you know, are the sweetest people in the world. I spent the time there between going out with my dad to his house projects and helping my mom use her computer. When I went last year, they didn’t have their VCR hooked up and it still wasn’t this year. I helped with that also and was somewhat amused by the fact that there was a time when they knew how to hook everything up and I didn’t. What was even more amusing was Dad and I successfully hooked up the VCR using instructions for a completely different machine. One of the really high points of my visit was having dinner with Dad at Pizza Inn. I love Pizza Inn. They make fantastic dessert pizzas that can’t be found anywhere else.


I took Sophie for a walk every morning that we were there. The neighborhood has changed significantly since my family moved there 25 years ago. The large “vacant lot” near our house is completely developed with houses. The kids of the neighborhood used to ride our bikes there. The trees are bigger and the street seems narrower than they did to my 6 year-old eyes. I’m glad the area is developing. I wouldn’t want my parents living in a rundown neighborhood. And not everything has changed. Even though the orignial Walmart is now a Sutherlands and the new one is a Super Walmart practically in the next lot, it’s still the place to run into everyone. In a single visit, I saw about 5 people I went to high school with and as many older folk I remember. I still remember when they put the basketball court in over at the park 2 blocks over from my house. It was there I carved my eternal love for Dave Oakley in stone . . . literally. In my defense, I was 11 or 12. My eternal love for him gave way to eternal love for many other boys in the years to come. While nothing lasts forever, unfortunately I think my declaration is going to be where it is for a very long time.


Carlsbad is a really beautiful town. I do love the desert where I spent my childhood and I will leave you with more pictures from the trip.

Me and mom after her Red Hat Society Dinner.


My sweet Daddy.


He insisted on buying me this-it's ACTUALLY called a "Pecan PICKER UP-ER"!


Me and Sophie

Dad, plum tuckered out.

Desert sunset.

The Thing About Weddings

I grew up loving weddings. They were so fun! Pretty dresses like in a fairytale, pledges and tokens of eternal love, those cream cheese mints, and CAKE!!!! What's not to love about weddings? As the years have gone by all that stuff has only gotten better. Unfortunately, my childhood fervor for weddings has waned in the past decade or so. They tend to have the same effect on me as birthdays--I'm not getting any younger . . . Am I making the right choices with my life? . . . Will I always be a wedding guest and never a bride? . . . This cake is so good!. . . Am I destined to be alone? I also get very frustrated at weddings because when I fantasize about my own, certain songs come to mind that I'd like to have. Yet sure as the sun rises in the east, the next wedding I attend has stolen my songs. Yes, stolen them. I can't help it if I want to be a little different from everyone else. I acknowledge that it's virtually impossible for me to have a song in my wedding that no one has used before me, but you can't blame a girl for dreaming. (Don't worry, Flee, I've stopped dreaming about using music from "The Lion King", apparently no one wants to steal that one!)

My worst wedding experience was the wedding of a dear friend. It was in the my home congregation back in NM many years ago. The whole course of the wedding and preparations, everybody who'd ever known me kept smiling and raising their eyebrows at me saying things like "You're next!" "You're day is coming!" "You're going to find someone soon!" . . . Images of knocking each of them upside the head with songbooks kept flashing through my mind as I smiled and politely endured these comments, even the sweet old ladies. Having been recently thwarted in love, mercy was a virtue that was difficult for me to come by. I don't think these well-meaning, good-hearted folks realize how irritating it is for a single girl to hear those things. (I know not all single gals feel that way, but I know a few who do.) Speaking as one that does, I already feel "love-impaired", defective, & beyond hope. I don't need to be reminded of it by all the people who watched me grow up. I haven't even gotten to the worse part of this experience, which was the tossing of the bouquet. Yes, that time-honored tradition that I started dreading in my late teens. It wasn't a game anymore. It had become the single girl's only hope for a future at the altar. My stomach churns just thinking about the possibility of having to participate in one. At this wedding, though, I had no choice and nowhere to hide. As I stood there, surrounded by a few strangers and a bunch of young girls whom I had counseled at church camp, time suddenly stood still. The moment had arrived and all I wanted to do was get it over with, get home, and into a comfortable pair of shoes. It was in that moment that all those young girls turned their eyes on me, then to one another and almost in unison began to shout, "Let Lisa catch it!! Let Lisa catch it!!!" The large group of them parted like the Red Sea and left me standing there in the middle of the room in utter mortification. Oh for the earth to open and swallow me up! And I still didn't catch the thing. I know in my heart that catching the bouquet signifies nothing, except the much underestimated female capacity for violence. But I can't help but think, "God, please, throw me a bone!"

These days being single isn't the horror I always thought it to be. I'm not saying it's easy or that I don't still long for a mate. However, I've been single pretty much my whole life and spent most of my 20's thinking I'd shrivel up an die if I didn't marry by the time I was 30. I'm neither dead, nor shriveled and no worse for the wear, so what was all the fuss about? I just don't know. I must say, though, that God has worked on me to bring me to this place. He put wonderful people in my life, like Sarah, who showed me that being single was something embrace and celebrate. Even more recently He has sparked a renewal within me. I'm pursuing my relationship with Him more than I have in a long time & I'm really thankful for that. Why did I ever let it stagnate? I know that He's never left me and I have never stopped praying, but I have really missed God! Know what I mean?

I went to another wedding of another dear friend this past weekend. I re-connected with old friends who've long left Lubbock. It was WONDERFUL! I still had some pangs from the usual nagging questions, but I had more fun than I've had in a long time at a wedding. My compliments to the bride, who chose not subject her single friends to the anxiety-producing tradition of the bouquet toss. Clearly she understands the woes of that love-lorn crowd, whether we have chosen our states or not. Besides, not having to worry about that dreaded moment in the celebration made it much easier to enjoy the cake. And it was GOOD!!!

The Dog Days of Winter: The Tempestuous Travails of the Mad Cow, the REAL Mad Cow

On a blustery, dusty day, the Mad Cow seeks shelter in the house of a local neighborhood.

Not a happy camper!

Thinking she is safe and way too concerned about the weather, she finds herself in the clutches of the Golden Bone Grinder! AIEEEEE!!!!


As if that's not bad enough, the Black Jaws of Death arrive to stake her claim on the Mad Cow.

A great battle ensues for domination . . .

Whisked to the lair of the Black Jaws of Death, the Mad Cow finds her cries for help muffled by a great muddy paw.

A horn is lost in the struggle

Then another! Then an ear!

Trapped, the Mad Cow feels her life-force being sucked out by the Black Jaws of Death!

The Golden Bone Grinder back for more Mad Cow!

The Mad Cow is fighting furiously for what's left of her life in the cruel, unrelenting possession of the Golden Bone Grinder, when the Disemboweled Croc approaches to finish her off. She places a desperate hoof on the Croc's snout, pinning his jaws shut!

Alas, her efforts are futile . . .

All that remains of the Real Mad Cow . . .

R.I.P.