Update

Happy:  New car with better gas mileage (2000 Honda Accord, holla!), plumbers and their backhoes are finally gone!, Christmas is a comin' and the goose is gettin' fat, Vicki's/slave dilemma solved (girls at work threw me a surprise party and got me gift certs!!!--sweethearts), microwave died (no more scary radiation and I didn't have to make that call!).

Sad:  Car payment & a smaller car, shoddy workmanship on the basement waterproofing--still leaks, have to dump 10 gallons of beer, Caribou Slobber tastes like green acid.

The boy continues to fail in health. Boy, that sounds nice, doesn't it? What I want to say is, "The Lord continues to not heal him," with a bitter tongue. But I'm a human and he's a human and how much suffering can one person take? Why, Lord? I don't mean to be an ungrateful and bratty kid, but why not help?! I know he will eventually. But my boy is desperate, on the edge of despair.... And we will continue to love and serve you. God you are wise beyond our wisdom. Also, you love us. This is what I hang my hat on.

Buying Hiatus:  I was all wrong there. It's not that I need to not buy anything. It's that I need to not be a selfish stuff-whore. In buying, as in every other facet of my heart, I want and seek the best for myself. Wrong. I cope with life by getting everything I think I need. I justify and budget shift until I get what I want. Then I'm "happy." But I'm not really. So, the Buying Hiatus is being revamped and renamed:

Temperance Mission. In all things, temperance. Contentment and patience. I need a garlic press, wait to find one at Good Will, right? Not research the best and have to have it. I used to be rich--rich people buy only the best. Now I'm poor. Poor in spirit. And I can be truly grateful. Thanksgiving (the literal holiday, the the verb) opened my eyes. I was sad and disheartened. No thankfulness in my heart for any material thing. But an overwhelming thankfulness for people. For my husband and my daughter. For my parents-in-law and coworkers. People matter. Things don't. It's true. And when that's true, the dollar store Christmas-tree skirt you're given is perfect and amazing. And holding your feverish daughter is gift. And grape-flavor Tylenol is just right.

So, Temperance Mission.

And I can't say that I'm not thankful, in a bazaar way, for our suffering because it changes me. In a good way. Even though I brink on bitterness.