Jan 062010

I couldn’t sleep last night for two reasons.

First, I was so astounded by what happened here yesterday that my head was spinning. Sister summarized the day pretty well:

Don’t look now, Monkees, but if I’m not mistaken here’s what happened today:
• We were honest
• We heard and comforted and understood and challenged each other
• We were outraged and horrified by organized evil against our sisters and brothers and children and we admitted our fear and feelings of being utterly overwhelmed by the enormity of it all
• We resolved to love on our little worlds and the great big world a little more and to fear a little less
• We had k(c)rumpets
And at the end of the day, three brave children will have a loving home and a cozy bed and the only sores on them will be ones they get running and playing.

I don’t know about you ladies, but that’s the best day I’ve had in a very long time.

Hot damn I’m so honored to know you. And so very thankful for what you did today.

“The world is wide, and I will not waste my life in friction
when it can be turned into momentum.”
Frances Willard (1839-1898)


Second, I couldn’t decide what to write about this morning. I knew that after yesterday’s intensity we Monkees were going to need a little breather today. But I so badly wanted to offer you something more than a breather. I wanted to come to each of your homes and knock on your door and when you answered I wanted to yell DO YOU BELIEVE WHAT’S GOING ON HERE? IT’S A REVOLUTION! And then squeeze you really hard and pull you out of your house and bring you along to the next Monkee’s house and then the next and the next until we reached last Monkee’s door and when she answered there would be 250 of us standing on her doorstep yelling DO YOU BELIEVE WHAT’S GOING ON HERE? IT’S A REVOLUTION!” and I would get to squeeze each Monkee first because I get up the earliest and that’s only fair.

That’s not going to happen today, but it will happen. Oh it WILL happen. Be prepared.

So I thought and I thought and I thought. What can I do for my Monkees? And about midnight it hit me.

I get lots of variations of this particular email, which I received a few weeks ago:


I love your blog and I’m a Monkee and you’re a great writer and lovely and so on and so forth.

Could you post some shirtless pictures of husband? The ladies in my office and I would really appreciate it.

Love, Caren

This email wouldn’t have been at all unusual or surprising except for the fact that Caren is my cousin.

So Caren, and all of you Monkees whose brains and hearts are a little tired from yesterday…I give you… HUSBAND.

Don’t worry, I plan to ask his permission for this post just as soon as he wakes his pretty little head.

I love you, Monkees. You are Revolutionaries.

Jan 062010

Hi guys, I’m so sorry. This was supposed to be a lighthearted day, what with all the hot hubby pictures. But it’s not anymore.

I was just sent a link from an old friend, about a little girl from Phoenix named Kate.

Kate is five years old, and she has a brain tumor. Her frail body and strong family have been fighting for months, and they’re very tired and afraid. But they are also full of faith, and they are asking for prayers for their little girl.

After I watched Kate’s video, I want you to know that I stepped away from my computer, hit my knees, pressed my forehead on the chilly kitchen floor and laid there like a baby. And actually I couldn’t even pray, I just cried. But I think that was a prayer in itself, because although I don’t know her, I felt very close to Kate’s mother, down there on the kitchen floor. I bet she spends a lot of time these days crying on her hands and knees.

Listen, Monkees, the truth is I’m pissed and here’s what I’m gonna do about it.

I’m through messing around.

Every morning, before I write, I am going to get out of bed and get down on my hands and knees and press my forehead to the floor and I’m going to beg God to heal Kate and to strengthen her mommy and daddy. And then I am going to beg Him to protect all the Monkees and all of your babies. And I am going to beg Him to help Sister and the babies she is going to rescue. And to send someone for the little ones she won’t be able to rescue. Because I actually believe that prayer changes things, even if it doesn’t make them level.

I’m telling you this because I want you to email me if you have prayer requests that you’d like me to add during my knee time, since I’ll be down there anyway. I aint too proud to beg, Monkees.

I am having a hard time with things lately because there is so much pain and so many scary things that are happening to people I love, and the “people I love” seem to be freaking everybody lately. So anyway, I’m taking control by hitting my knees.

I just wanted to let you know.

You can learn about Kate here. And here. Please tell me if you’d like to commit to praying for her every day. I’d like to tell her mom how many Monkees Kate has on her side.

Sorry for ruining our easy day.

Hot husband pictures below.

Jan 082010

Thank you so much for your prayers and happy thoughts yesterday regarding my Lymie Lupy appointment. I can’t explain what happened because I don’t understand what the heck anyone at the office was talking about. It takes me a while. But I am going to concentrate on understanding this weekend and write to you about it on Monday. The one thing I am clear about is that Lyme is not the boss of me. There is only room for one boss in this house, and her name is Tish. I’m sure that like Craig and I, Lyme is just a little slow to learn and will be put in its place any minute now.

Moving right along.
On Wednesday afternoon I saw a video about a sick little girl that affected me so deeply that I was driven to my knees. While I was down there I felt an interesting surge of power and peace. And I thought, this is how I should pray all the time. My prayers for my family and Monkees and hurting people should always be this desperate. I resolved to start spending my prayer time each day on my knees.

I woke up yesterday morning with my game face on. I sneaked out to the family room, kneeled in the middle of the carpet, and folded my little hands. Things went south immediately. Because I forgot that Lyme makes my knees hurt really bad.

So my prayers sounded exactly like this: Dear God, ouch ouch ouch ouch ouch ouch ouch ouch ouch.
Frustrated, I got off my knees and tried to think of a position that was equally respectful and dramatic. The only thing I could think of was lying face down on the carpet, nose smushed, arms pinned to my sides.
So I laid there and tried to clear my mind. But the thing is that my mind only clears when it’s not supposed to, like when someone asks me how old my kids are or their middle names or anyone says the words “recipe” or “map.”

So my prayers sounded like this:

Dear God, Please bless um…lots of people. My knees still hurt. And now my nose hurts too and also this carpet is so itchy. And heal Kate. I am suffocating. Also, make the Monkees less fearful. What if Craig comes out right now? How am I going to explain why I’m lying flat on my face and breathing heavy and have rug burn all over my face? My kids…um… something about them, God. I wonder if I could get away with cutting my own bangs. Really need a trim. Good Lord someone needs to vacuum this carpet. Why does it stink so bad? Did someone bring a dog into the house? Stay Puft Marshmallow man.

And so on and so forth.

And after a few minutes of this, I said to myself: Self- even though you really want to be, I don’t think you’re the deep and spiritual type. And I guess since I was in prayer mode, God thought I was talking to Him. Because I think I heard him suggest something like this:

No, you’re not, G. You’re a girl who can’t get through thirty seconds of prayer for a sick child without considering the length of your bangs. That’s why I made you a blogging Monkee and not a real monk, honey. But listen, I AINT MAD ATCHA! You’re here, right? It’s 5 am and you showed up! I can work with this! But why don’t we start by getting you up off the floor because you look like an idiot, honey.

I am not one to argue with God. So I stood up, put my Snuggie back on and poured some coffee. And I headed to the couch and settled in. Feeling started coming back to my nose and knees.

I laid there and prayed for Kate and then I tried to remember all of the specific prayer requests you sent me, but I couldn’t. So I just closed my eyes and images floated by of monkees in the rainforest playing, eating bananas, picking fleas off each other, hooting and hollering. It was the best prayer ever. I think God totally got it.
I’m not sure I’m such a good word pray-er. Some people are, but I’m not. So I’m just going to spend my prayer time thinking about you, and sending your faces and hearts up to God. I think it’ll work just as well. I always feel confused about asking for specific things anyway, because I’m not great at knowing what’s best for people. The miracle of prayer for me, is that over time, if I’m disciplined enough, I actually start caring deeply about the people for whom I pray. Prayer changes things for me because it softens my heart and knits me closer to others.

Prayer makes neighbors and friends and sisters out of us, which makes life less scary and lonely.

So yesterday afternoon, I started writing all 260 of your names on little pieces of paper. And I put them in a special little box. I plan to add prayer requests to my little box daily, and then hold that little box every morning while visions of Monkees Dance in My Head. That’s my New Prayer Plan.
I know you appreciate visuals, so here’s a little before and after.

Old Prayer Plan:

New Prayer Plan:

Please understand that I do not plan to set those Monkees up every day. I just wanted to illustrate on the outside of my head what is happening on the inside of my head.

And this is what the inside of my head looks like almost constantly.
Please come back around 4 for a special treat.
And be good to yourselves today, friends. You deserve it. You’re wonderful.

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