I've missed Xanga.  I think I'm going to be here again for a while.

Me, Libby, Alex Nana, Laura, Dale and Bibby are leaving for NY tomorrow!  Can't wait for some LAUGHTER.  Life has been too heavy and filled with burdens.  I need to laugh for a few days.  I don't care what we do or what we see...I just want to laugh and I intend to do plenty of it.  Taking wine in my suitcase!!

God has been good to me!  Thso is a different kid.  Some may not see what we see.  You have to live with a child with autism to see the subtle changes.  The GFCF diet has done wonders already.  He's been on it a month now.  The little weird things these kids do are much less in Theo now.  He's affectionate and he's more "with it".  I am happy and excited for each new day and what it will bring.

Can't wait to go see Chris Tomlin in concert!!  I will cry the whole time!  I think he has some great words in his songs like, "It's your kindness Lord, that leads us to repentance".  Or "All creation declares your majesty!"  I'm going to raise my hands, sing along and pretend that I haven't been presbyterian my whole life!  Seriously though, these songs have ministered to my heart the past few months in a way that only God could have known what I needed.  He has turned my mourning into gladness.

I get so turned upside down with my cares and concerns.  The economy, the money pinch it puts on us, the election and all of my normal duties.  Now, with my exam on the near horizon, I am especially overwhelmed and anxious.  We were talking a few nights ago around here, about how we need to look upward at all times and yearn for God more.  I was telling my kids that we should all be constantly yearning and striving to know God more and be more like His Son.  Oh to go to the end of the day and not have the knowing thought that I'd blown it again and sinned greviously against my Father.  So, my prayer today is that I and my whole family, stay ever aware of our need to have that hunger at all times as the deer pants for the water.

Part of a comedy routine I thought was kinda funny:

The Church picnic. Food, faith, and fellowship. It’s not always what it’s always cracked up to be.

For example, what about the flies? Flies – you can’t live with them; you can’t live without them.

What an irritating insect.

Especially those tenacious ones.

You’re at the church picnic, about to bite into a juicy, delicious Wal-Mart burger and a fly from tenation lights right on your bun.

You swat and it flies a tight circle and lands on the exact spot on the bun.

You swat – it circles; you swat quickly; it flies faster.

You begin to use both hands – like a bad version of Karate Kid.

Then you end up doing the swat dance, sweating, foaming of the mouth and high pitched sounds.

Left, right, left, right, then you think: I know, an upper cut. No, a rabbit punch to the fly’s head.

Suddenly, you realize how fast a fly is and how out of shape you are.

Then, you look around and the whole church is starring at you.

You feel forced to say something. “Fly. Fly dance. Training . . . for the fight. Ultimate fighter, or penultimate fighter – whatever it takes.”

And they just continue to stare. You know, in the spirit of fellowship. Some church people can really stare too.

Like, ‘you must be out of your ever loving mind’ stare.

You know the one; she has a certain bird dog ability. Looking down her long nose in a way that looks like she is waiting for a vacancy in the Trinity.

It so powerful and penetrating. Your eyes are darting about. You stupidly glance at her and there it is: icy, bone chilling, piercing glare-stare. Dividing between bone and morrow.

You start reconsidering evolution, because her eye’s are as big as that fly’s – which is still there staring at you from the bun.

Aw, nothing like fellowship with the high and mighty.

But there are those flies that come in like a freighter. Bzzzzz. They fly in so slowly that you look at them and you can see the fly turn its head and looks right at you. You even think you see a knowing wink.

Then they make a sweeping turn and slowly bump right into your face. It’s like please swat me. As if they want to die.

I think these are suicide flies that want to die – at a church picnic.

Yeah, they’re tired of their crappy life. Throwing up every time they land. They’re hated. Oh yeah, they might be king of the hill . . . but it’s a dung hill.

“Yeah, go ahead, make my day – end.”

It is as if, we have a secret pact and we knowingly nod. We say, 'I can swat this fat beast – he’s mine.'

And we, being good church going folk, do it. We end his life with one swat and three jumps. His life is imprinted into the wood of the deck. Black, foreboding, there.

It’s like angry assisted suicide – by church folk.

What? They don’t have a hot line. There’s no 1-800 number for the fly to buzz up. “Yeah, I know your reputation is in the sewer, but hey, look at the bright side.” How can you pull a fly out of depression? It’s impossible.

“Hi, flying low hotline. Bzzzzzz bzzzzzz. Uhmm hu. Bzzzzz. Okay, just kill yourself – you stinking, filthy, little flying, irritating insect. Fly in front of a bus now.”

Then there are those comaKazie suicide flies. You know, you open your mouth to merely speak and like a bullet they’re down your throat. You can’t spit, you can’t cough – all you can do is involuntarily swallow.

It’s ironic too. Their last act induces you to throw up.