If you missed my earlier post on Inauguration Day, you might want to read that first.

So, there are five really loud hooligans running around my house right now. They’re playing the 21st century version of hide-and-seek. Gabe hides with his iPhone. He types in words and phrases, and his iMac (on his desk) speaks to the kids.”Look upstairs.” “Not in there.” “My bedroom.” They’re running around and squealing. “Garage.” “Look outside.” “You’re getting closer.” Right now, he’s behind the TV stand. No one can find him. “In trash can.” “You guys are not good finders.”

“AAAAHHH! He’s behind the TV!!!!” Livi found him. That was fun.

So, I was talking a lot about skin color earlier, and I forgot to tell about my Inauguration Picnic with Nina. We ate our lunch on the living room floor and watched the festivities. Nina’s always saying, “Look at that black guy.” “Who’s that black girl?” But what she means is, the guy with black hair. Or the girl wearing a black shirt. Because she also talks about the orange girl, the yellow guy, the pink girl, the blond girl. So, when she asked, “Who’s the black guy?” and she was talking about George W. Bush, I had to laugh. And “who’s that white guy?” which would be an older black gentleman with white hair. Love it.

It’s a universal thing with kids. I wonder when they start identifying people by their skin color. I also wonder if our new President ever gets tired of people talking about him being black. I wonder if he’d just like to say, “You know what? I’m also really smart and talented and good at what I do. I think I’d make a marvelous President even if both my parents were white.”

So, I’m going to stop talking about color. In a minute. The girls came home from school asking if their friends could play. We said sure. Doorbell rings. It’s a boy and a girl. (not siblings) I’m out in the kitchen, and I hear Gabe say to the boy, “You can’t wear that coat in here. Leave it outside.” I know, without looking, what coat he’s talking about. It’s black and yellow with a certain NFL logo on it. If we don NFL gear in this house, it’s orange and brown. Color matters.

Our neighbor boy laughs and takes off his coat. Inside. I hear Gabe say, “Wow, I like your shirt. That’s cool.” I smile, because I think I know what’s on his shirt. He comes around the corner. Black shirt, 4 multi-colored paintings of Barack Obama–Hope, Change, etc. “I like your shirt,” I tell him. He tells me he got to go see Obama in person. [Neighbor Girl] was there too. “Very cool,” I say, smiling.

Neighbor boy is 7, short, and absolutely adorable. His mom is white, his dad is black. Neighbor girl is 8, tall, absolutely adorable. Her mom is black, her dad is black. The other 3 girlies in the house are tall too, and absolutely adorable. Their mom is white, their dad is white. They’re all playing a Ms. PacMan marathon at the moment and cracking me up. They all squeal the same, laugh the same, and yell the same.

Not too many years ago, there wasn’t any such thing as video games. Or iPhones. Or televisions. And not too many years ago, there wasn’t any such thing as kids with brown skin playing in white kids’ homes.

Praise You, Lord, for how far we’ve come. Forgive us, Father, for our sordid past. Praise Your Name that you love all your children the same. (and that Jesus wasn’t white, but that’s another post..)

Thank you for this monumental day. And thank you for our neighbors. And thank you in advance for helping the Steelers lose the Super Bowl. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

What a strange-looking word–inauguration. Weird.

I went out for a bit with Nina this morning–the bank, Staples and Target. There was a noticeable festive spirit in the air. People were smiling, laughing. The sun is shining, the cold isn’t too terribly biting. This is a good day.

A girl pulled up beside me in the bank drive-thru. Her car was filled to the point of driving hazard with red and blue balloons. It made me smile. The drivers of 5 of the 6 cars in the drive-thru (and the bank teller) were black, and then there was me. It made me smile.

Skin color and nationality and all of that is very intriguing to me. I’m fascinated by different cultures and colors, and I love living surrounded by it every day. It makes me smile. I’d like to think I’m not racist or prejudiced in any way–against people of different colors, sizes, points of view, economic backgrounds. But I’m afraid it’s not true. I can say I embrace everyone everywhere. But I still get nervous when I drive in certain parts of my town. And I’m often quick to judge people–usually because of something besides their color. And I can say I have black (and latino/asian/russian) friends and neighbors, but do I really understand what it’s like to be anything but white? No, I don’t. In Japan, I got a small taste. But I was more of a celebrity there with my back-then blond hair, not opressed in any way.

But I digress.

Nina and I were comparing prices of boxes of granola cereal in Target when I hear someone yelling. It’s an older (white) guy. “I swear! Isn’t there anyone working in this d*** store? I’ve been in here 10 minutes, and I haven’t seen a single person working! Where are the %*#%$* appliances? There aren’t even any signs!” And blah, blah, blah, blah. He finally cornered the Pepsi guy who helped him track down a Target employee.

Nina just stared. I passed by another customer and rolled my eyes (in a nice way). As I was walking to the check-out, I went right past a HUGE red sign hanging from the ceiling. HUGE. It said, “SMALL ELECTRICS.” Um, I know there wasn’t room to put the word APPLIANCES on the sign, but most of us can figure out that small electrics = small electric appliances. And well, if we’re looking for BIG appliances, maybe we should be next door at Lowe’s. But what do I know? I kind of felt like yelling, “WHY ISN’T THERE A SIGN THAT SAYS “GRANOLA?” HOW DO YOU EXPECT ME TO FIND THE GRANOLA IN THIS STUPID STORE?!”

And now I’ve really digressed. So, we go to check out, and I get in my favorite cashier’s line–sweet, middle-aged (older than me, I mean) black woman. She’s chatting about the inauguration and “What will Michelle Obama be wearing?” She hopes it’s not like that red/black number she wore before. She loves red and black, but that outfit just didn’t work. And she hopes she doesn’t wear a bunch of sequins and stuff, because that’s just not her. She’s just so classy.”

We talked about this big day and how exciting it was, and when I heard my total and realized I had just enough cash with 7 cents to spare, I had to chuckle. “Don’t spend it all in one place!” the older guy behind me said. We all laughed. I smiled at people in the parking lot. I suddenly felt VERY self-conscious about the McCain/Palin sticker on my mini-van. I really don’t want to be one of those people who has a faded GORE/LIEBERMAN sticker on their van 43 years later. Or someone who wears a Cleveland Browns jersey to the Super Bowl. Thought about scraping it off in the parking lot but didn’t want to cause a scene.

And this blog really hasn’t been about the Inauguration at all. We have a new President. I enjoy listening to him speak, and I love watching his beautiful family. I loved seeing thousands of people all happy and patriotic and being nice to each other in D.C. today. I’m excited to see what’s in store for us as a nation. I’m excited to see what role God has for me and my family to play in the whole scheme of things in the months and years to come.

A dear friend told me today that she’s praying for me and hopes God blesses my socks off today. He already has. But I got to thinking–instead of always wanting God to bless me, I wanted to be looking for ways to bless God’s socks off. What can I do that will just bless Him and glorify Him like crazy? I have some ideas. Some are easy and fun. Some involve dying more to self.

Nina reeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeally wants to do her big states floor puzzle. In the name of patriotism and all things inaugural, I must comply. Then she’s going to bed.

Happy Inauguration Day, friends! Congratulations to President Barack H. Obama! Here’s to the next four years!

Livi (yesterday afternoon): Most of the kids on my bus are voting for McCain.
Me: Really???
Livi: Yeah, even one boy who’s black. He’s voting for McCain because of abortion.
Me: Really.

Nina: (very loudly, all the way from our house to the polls) John Muh-CAIN! John Muh-CAIN! John Muh-CAIN!

Ava (as we pull into the parking lot to vote): So, are Barack Obama and John McCain going to be here?

Ava (after we sign in and get in line for a voting booth): Is this the John McCain line?

Off we go to Chick-Fil-A for some free sandwiches! Hope they have two left!

that the Lord has made. He is on His throne come what may in our presidential election. I feel a sense of peace about it.

I do wish that some of my friends/acquaintances would understand the absurdity of trying to be pro-life and pro-Obama all at one time. 

For some way-better thoughts than mine on the topic, check out this blog.

For a beautiful expression of many of the thoughts that have been piling up in my brain lately, check out this blog.

For a cute picture of an adorable pregnant woman, check out this blog.

Personally, I’ve got some things tugging at my heart, some decisions to make that aren’t much fun, some wisdom needed for direction for my (and our family’s) future. But I’ll ask for prayer for that later.

Right now, let’s pray for God’s will to be done tomorrow on Election Day. And lets pray that He’ll get heaps and mounds of glory–some way, somehow–through it all. And let’s pray that we, His people, will surrender our lives completely to Him from this day forward.

EDIT: You have until tonight at midnight to enter the drawing for the Expelled DVD. Woohoo!

Kidding. I just like using the word “lieu.” And really, how often does it come up in conversation? Not often enough.

Seriously, though, if you want to get me something for my birthday, you can pray for our country and this election. Not that a certain candidate will win but that we will be in tune with the very heart of God, that we will love what He loves and hate what He hates, that blind eyes will be opened, that lost souls will find Christ and accept His sacrifice, that God will be glorified in each of us in the days and months ahead.

Thank you.

You can also pray for me. That I’ll completely surrender every bit of my life to Him. That His will would be my will. That I would bring glory to Him in everything I do. Specifically, that He would show me what He wants me to do with a project near and dear to my heart. I chatted with a gal about it yesterday and desperately seek God’s guidance.

Thank you.

I’m 33 today. The age Jesus was when He died. Kind of adds some perspective to His sacrifice. He was so young. I feel so young. (My MIL just told me that 33 was Gabe’s grandma’s favorite birthday. “It was as long as Jesus lived. Everything else is just a ‘plus.’”)

It won’t be long before I’m older than Jesus. This is weird.

You know, growing up, how you would watch college basketball, and all the guys are older than you? So grown up. And now they’re just kids. Crazy.

Or better yet, I remember being a 6th grader and having a crush on Denny Lehmer, a senior on the high school basketball team. I was a child. And to me, Denny was a full-grown man (ha!). With spiky blond hair, a big smile, and the #33 across his chest. (or was it #30? 25? hmmm…) I saw him at Applebees one night after I was in college. Somehow he knew who I was, and we chatted for a second. He was sitting alone at the bar, and all of that mystique from days past had fizzled out.

Anyway. That’s not my point with Jesus. My point is that I’ve always thought of him as a man older than me. Soon, he’ll be a young man I might have patted on the shoulder had I known him when he was on earth.

Except He’s God. Not just some nice, helpful guy who loved the poor. I hate that people reduce my God to that. I would almost rather people hate Jesus than think he was just a nice guy. If you don’t believe that Jesus is the only way to God, if you don’t believe He gave his life on the cross as the perfect sacrifice for us wretched sinners, then it’s best that you think of him as the enemy. He’s not a nice guy. He’s an intolerant, jealous God who claims to be the only way you can get to heaven. If that’s not true, then He’s a liar. I hate that people go on and on about all Jesus did for the poor (which is absolutely great and true) BUT then stop there. They look at his life but ignore His death, the very reason He came to earth.

Wow, my girls need to get to school, and I have to pack their lunches. All I meant to do was remind you about my birthday in case you wanted to sing. Happy Pumpkin Day! And happy birthday, Jamie!