NewsGirl

I've been a Newsboys fan for almost 20 years now, which is to say way before they were big-time.

Proof: The first time I saw them in concert, it was in the gym of a local middle school. And I seem to remember the evening was free.

No matter. I was immediately hooked. (Who can resist a spinning drummer and a lead singer who will let my best male friend get up on stage and show off his dance moves?) I bought a t-shirt (in XXL, of course, because it was 1992), a tape of "Boyz Will Be Boyz" and "Hell Is For Wimps" and I've loved their music ever since.

Which is why, when I caught a glimpse of Teyla this morning, with her long curls hanging haphazardly around her face, I suddenly had a picture of Phil Joel, former Newsboys bassist, flash into my head.

I believe we might have the first NewsGirl.

Hey, a mother can dream.

Nine Years

Yesterday, Natalie turned nine.

That seems both plausible and impossible to me, seeing as baby Natalie and girl Natalie live simultaneously in my heart.

I still remember the first time I looked into her eyes. It had been a very long, drawn-out, difficult delivery. I was tired and swollen and losing blood and I felt like I’d been hit by a truck. (And I looked like it too.)

But then they placed her on my chest, and this chubby, dark-haired, slimy thing opened her eyes and looked straight into mine. It took my breath away.

“Oh!” I gasped. “It’s a baby!”

With one heartbeat, I fell in love.

And suddenly, I was a mom.

I’m taking some time off this week to wallow in that a bit. See you in a few days.

Black and Light

This summer, the Upper Midwest has been in the severe weather bulls-eye. Here in Minneapolis, we just lived through 30 of the stormiest days in Minnesota history -- 359 storms between June 17 and July 17. That's three times the amount of storms we saw in all of 2009.

Yes, it means we've heard a lot of sirens and endured a couple of close calls.

But it also mean we've seen amazing skies. I can't stop looking up this year.

I took this "black and light" shot last week, when the rain was still cascading down our windows and the storm that had just moved through was retreating from the sun.

I bet most Midwesterners have seen a similar horizon.

The juxtaposition of light and dark, of sun and severe, is always breathtaking to me. It's as stark and startling as if I'd shot in black-and-white film.

(Here's the same shot in color. Not much of a difference.)

For more pictures in black and white, check this week's You Capture.

You're Tired

My Mom is a genius.

All my life, she’s had one phrase that covers every childhood problem.

She would simply say, “You’re tired.”

Read the rest at 5 Minutes for Parenting....

Good Guys vs. Bad Guys

All day every day, my six-year-old son plays with Legos.

He builds video games and race cars and jet skis and houses with trap doors.

But his favorite things to build BY FAR are bad guys and good guys.



They often battle.



The good guys win. Usually. (Note the presence of R2D2 in the good guy line-up.)(Sorry for the lack of focus. The humidity has been brutal lately. My camera lens keeps fogging up.)



The bad guys are scary. (Connor builds good bad guys.)

Corey says Connor will grow up to be either an engineer or an arms dealer.

As long as he's a good guy, either is fine with me.

I Need This

There are weeks when church feels more like a chore than a celebration.

Four kids. Early morning. Spilled milk. The wrong cereal. Tangled hair. Bickering and whining.

It’s a struggle to make it out the door with clothes and shoes, much less a heart dressed for worship.

There are weeks I wonder why I bother.
Can’t I worship at home?
Does God really need me to travel to a building?
Why all this work?

But then I get there and even if I only have five minutes between kids needing to know how to spell blueberry and “Mom, can I have a piece of gum?” I remember.

I need this.

I need this desperately.

I’m so dry and calloused, I can’t even tell that I’m numb.

I need this time of awakening.

The crust that seals my eyes is gently wiped away and again I see.

I see God.
     Faithful.
     True.
     Relentless.
     Gracious.
I hear God.
     Whisper.
     Proclaim.
     Sing.
     Remind.
I feel God.
     Renew.
     Restore.
     Quicken.
     Confirm.

He is.

Once again, I feel Him stir in my soul. I am alive with wonder and gratitude.

Oh, how I need this.

Storm

We were walking around the mall, looking for ice cream, when a security guard scurried past us.

"Do you know about the tornado warning?" she barked over her shoulder.

"No," I stammered, temporarily distracted from my search for Blue Sky Creamery.

"We're moving everyone into the storm shelter now. This way. Everyone move this way." She motioned to us and the bystanders near the stairs. "Let's go!"

The kids, flocked around Corey and me like so many little ducklings, started to quack. "Mom, did she say tornado? Is a tornado headed toward us? What are we going to do?"

Corey and I exchanged glances. Neither of us wanted to spend the next who-knows-how-many minutes in a mall storm shelter with four young children, especially since it was almost bedtime.

It was the fastest decision we ever made.

"Let's go," we said in almost unison, and we herded the kids up the stairs, past the stores where employees were shutting gates and locking up and urging the crowds to "get to the storm shelter, there's a tornado warning, everyone's closing, let's go."

We got to the exit. The sky was dark, unnaturally dark for 8:30 on a summer night. But it wasn't raining yet and the sirens weren't ominous and no one could hear the sound of a rushing train.

We ran for the car, avoiding fat raindrops that were starting to fall.

"What's happening? Where are we going? Are we going to get hit by a tornado, Mom?" The kids were buzzing with nervous energy.

"I don't know, guys. Give us a few minutes to find out." And then, under my breath, "I can't believe I don't know what's going on."

This is a certified weather geeks worst nightmare -- not knowing the parameters of an approaching storm.

Corey turned on the radio. I called up the radar on my Blackberry. A quick perusal of both told us we were safe to head east, toward home, since the storm was still to our west.

By the time we hit the freeway, the streetlights were on. The rain started to fall in earnest. lightning crackled across the sky. Several times, the light flashed so bright and so close, I involuntarily gasped.

My pace quickened -- although not in a bad way. I love storms, and while I know I should apologize for the crazy, I just can't. Storms thrill me and mesmerize me and make me stand in awe of the Creator God who controls it all.

The radio told us of one, maybe two, confirmed tornado sightings in communities near us. Corey and I craned our necks, looking for rotation that might be illuminated by the stabs of light. We couldn't see anything but rain and an inky black sky.

It was an odd sensation to be on the freeway, amongst hundreds of other cars, when you know a tornado might be on the ground just a few miles away. I doubt any of our fellow drivers were ignorant of the storm. There were too many emergency vehicles careening about, too much rain, too much darkness to think this was just another garden-variety thunderstorm.

Still, there were all were, driving around, doing the most normal thing on earth during the most abnormal of times.

Just as we pulled off the freeway at our exit, the wind started to blow. Sheets of rain darted across the road like veils of gauze. A frenzy of leaves and branches were ripped from the trees, which were being pushed and pulled in a mad dance. We opened the garage door, pulled in and shut the garage door in one fluid motion. I was so thankful we switched from satellite to cable last year; our satellite could never sustain a signal during bad storms (which is the time you need it the most).

I instinctively turned on our local NBC station as soon as I got inside. I interned at KARE-11 multiple times when I was in college, so of course, I'm loyal. But KARE is also the station my family watched when I was growing up in the Twin Cities. For that reason alone, I always turn to KARE when I need a dose of comfort during a stressful situation.

Tornadoes were popping up all around us. Most were north of our home. Then came a report of a wall cloud within a mile or so of the mall we just left. Then a confirmed sighting of a funnel cloud just down the road. Corey and I took turns standing at the window, trying to see through the curtain of rain. Nothing. "Just my luck," I groaned. "Tornadoes everywhere, and it's too dark for me to see the rotation."

Slowly, the storm passed. The kids settled down. I fed the baby and checked Twitter. The TV was muted.

And Corey passed out Popsicles, since we never did find that ice cream shop at the mall.