Complications

When I was a little girl, I listened to a lot of music. My parents loved music, and we always had music playing. Now, I'm 46, so when I was a kid, the source of music was the stereo--a fancy wooden cabinet that contained a record player and an eight-track tape deck. The speakers to the stereo, housed in similar fancy wooden cases, doubled as end tables in our living room. No kidding.

I especially liked the music of the Statler Brothers. My mother would put on a stack of Statler Brothers LP's and we would be treated to hour after hour of their music. One of my very favorite songs of theirs was called "Class of '57." The Statler Brothers were about the same age as my parents; maybe that's why my folks liked this music so much.

Anyway, I particularly loved one Statler Brothers song called "The Class of '57." I especially remember one line from that song:

The class of '57 had its dreams

But living life day to day is never what it seems

Things get complicated when you get past 18.

I must have heard that song 500 times, all before I myself was 18. Never quite knew what it meant. I know what it means now, though.

This past weekend was an example of how things don't always go according to plan. I had been planning a Halloween party. For weeks I'd been working out the details in my head. This past week I'd been working out the details in my home. I sent invitations, bought food, bought paper goods, finished projects, cleaned house. All in preparation for Saturday night's party. Like these napkins, for instance. I don't know if I've ever told y'all that I have a bit of a napkin fetish. Some girls like shoes; some go for earrings; some drool over handbags. For me, it's napkins. And just look at these:

Did you ever see anything so cute?

After a difficult weekend last week, I was looking forward to the fun celebration. Then on Saturday morning, my husband woke up sick. Sore throat, headache, severe body aches, fever. Yep, you guessed it. The 'flu.

Thank God, I have a close friend who is a healthcare pro. She has a Ph.D. in nursing, for crying out loud. I talked to her, and she told me exactly what to do. An hour later, we were picking up a Tamiflu prescription from the pharmacy. She explained how Tamiflu works and why my husband should take it right away. He took it, and he's much better now, and everything worked out just fine.

But. The party. The party to which I had looked forward and for which I had worked so hard to prepare. The party had to be canceled.

You know what, though? It's just one party. Yes, I was looking forward to it. Yes, I hated to cancel. Yes, I especially hated to tell my guests that their plans for the evening would have to be canceled. But it's okay. There will be other chances to have parties. There will be other times to enjoy with those friends. The napkins will keep until next year. It's just that things don't always go according to plan. Things get complicated when you get past 18, don't they?

Unwrapped with Emily at Chatting at the Sky

Small lessons

My 12-year-old son is a very sociable guy. In particular, he loves a great party. In fact, he loves to give parties. No need for a birthday--he just likes to have his friends come over to eat, to play, to hang out.

He asked to have a Halloween party this year, but because of other calendar commitments the closest date we could get to Halloween was October 23. Luckily, October 23 was a half-day of school for him and his friends. So last Friday, a dozen seventh-grade boys spent the afternoon at our house, eating and playing and hanging out.

Here's something I learned from trying to make this party a memorable time for the boys: If you want cupcakes with lovely cantaloupe-colored frosting, use a Halloween "Funfetti" cake mix and frosting.

If, however, you want spooky-looking orange cupcakes, try something else. Trust me.

And here's something else I learned: seventh grade boys don't really care what color the frosting is.

An autumn heart tour

Last Friday, I had a lot of fun participating in the Autumn House Tour at Hooked on Houses. It was enjoyable to take photos of my house and share some of my spaces with you.

What I want to do today is to share some other spaces with you. But I don't have photos of these spaces. In fact, these spaces are ones that I keep hidden as much as possible.

I know that we all struggle just a little bit with issues of privacy in blogging. Should we share our names? Should we tell where we live? Should we give our husbands and kids screen nicknames? Our world is a funny place, and these issues of privacy are legitimate.

Then, too, we all sometimes struggle with how much we can divulge about ourselves and our feelings. Some bloggers seem to find it easy to just "let it all hang out" and tell how they feel about all kinds of issues; others avoid highly-charged issues altogether. Both of these approaches are fine, I think. Each writer must find the path that works for her or him.

My goal in this blog is to have an open home and, more importantly, an open heart. And I want to confess a struggle to you.

If you were to go back and read my blog from the beginning (which I doubt anyone wants to do; just trust me on this), you'd find that I often shared photos of little projects around my house or occasionally one room in my house, but that's about it. As I've decided to post a few more photos of my house over the past few weeks, I've done it with much fear and trembling. Why? Because I'm afraid that someone in the big scary worldwide web will see my house and want to break in and steal my possessions? Because I'm afraid someone will recognize photos of my house and stalk me or try to snatch my children? No, that's not it.

I've been afraid to post photos of my home because I'm been afraid that you, my blogging friends, wouldn't like me if you saw my house.

I know--it sounds ridiculous, doesn't it? And yet there it is. Now don't get me wrong--I don't live in a mansion, so I wasn't afraid that anyone would think that I was guilty of conspicuous consumption or showoffiness. It's not that. It's just that I live in a fairly new house that I didn't build myself. I was afraid that, if you knew that my house wasn't a DIY project, you wouldn't be interested in what I have to say. I was scared that you might reject me based on an external circumstance.

You know what? Those feelings are indicative of a much deeper issue. They're indicative of unresolved, unhealed feelings of not being good enough for your friendship. This summer I wrote about my birthmark, and about my need simply to accept myself. When I wrote that post, I felt that I had made some real progress in this area. As I consider now my hesitancy to show you pictures of my house, I think that perhaps the same old issues of insecurity are still at work.

Why am I telling you this? Mainly because I want to keep this blog as a place where I am open and honest. It would be quite easy for me to say that the rest of the house was a mess when I took the pictures of the rooms for the home tour (which is true). It's a little more difficult for me to admit that my heart was a mess, but that's the truth of the matter.

I want you all to know that Imparting Grace is a messy place. If you have insecurities, come right in. If you sometimes feel unsure of the love of God and other people, make yourself at home. If you're afraid of being rejected because of some external circumstance, sit here with me.

We'll take off our masks together and share some grace with one another.