Just Call Me the Film Critic

Hi,

This weekend I enjoyed spending some quality time with my family after surprising my mom for her birthday.  With potentially unruly weather and stressed out minds, we had a relaxing weekend and decided to see Frozen on Mom's birthday.  She had already seen it but wanted to watch it again with Katie and me because she wanted to see our reactions, knowing we would love it.

Surprise, surprise, we did.  I don't want to spoil it for you if you haven't seen it yet, but it is a lovely story about sisters.

Obviously, this appeals to me because I just so happen to have a little sister, and like Elsa and Anna, we "laughed, and played, and were the best of friends."  

While I'm telling you about my opinions on films, let me add a few more to the list:

The Wolf of Wall Street was one that Jered and I both thought would be a good flick.  I could tell early on in the film that I was in for a major disappointment.  While I cannot speak for anyone else, I was incredibly disturbed by it.  We didn't stay to watch the whole thing, but by the time we walked out, I was in tears.  In tears over what our society has come to find acceptable and with inflamed insecurities because of images they decided to include in the film make the majority of the film.

I thought it would at least have a fantastic plot to balance out the rest of it, but the plot was nothing special at all.  When we left I felt ready to cease movie-going.  It seemed like the straw that could possibly break my back.  (I realize many will think me prudish, old fashioned, a goody-goody, blah, blah, blah.  As I said, it was about all I could handle.)  I was so fed up with seeing trash. 

The next week however, we ventured out again.  This time to see Lone Survivor.

Now that, is a movie I can stand behind.  If you haven't seen it, I will warn you: it is hard to watch.  It is bloody, realistically frightening, and it contains many words I won't want my kids using someday.  BUT, it depicts men that fought bravely in a terrifying battle when they were incredibly outnumbered.  Honorable men.  Men that loved the ones they fought alongside like brothers.  Men that made the ultimate sacrifices for our country.  And I can't imagine that if I were in their place, my language would be pristine.

When we left the theater (along with the rest of the crowd, this time) there was a definite silence compared to most films, and in a way, I felt refreshed because this movie, as sad as it was, was uplifting.  It reminded me of the good.  True, the movie is about four young men involved in a war where many bad things happen, but it was a testament to their hearts, character, and loyalty.

We also finally got around to watching The Butler.  

Excellent.  Also hard to watch.  Hard to see the way people behaved.  Although I wasn't even a thought during the Civil Right Movement, I felt ashamed that such behavior had occurred.  And while this film also included offensive language, it had its place.  It didn't take away from the story.  The entire cast was fantastic, and like Lone Survivor, although it was a tough movie to see, it was enriching.

I'm still anxiously waiting to see Saving Mr. Banks and hoping that it might just be in the theater this weekend still.  I also finally saw the preview I've been waiting for: Maleficent.  I can hardly wait for this summer now.

Well, now that I've given you my unwarranted film review, I hardly think you want to read what I had thought about writing originally, so I'll save that for later.  

Hope you're keeping cozy and warm.  Know that if you had a snow/cold/polar vortex day today, I'm super jealous of you because I had to wake up even earlier than normal and go out into the bitter cold to take the mister to work this morning.

Until next time,

Aim

Christmas Follow Up

Happy Tuesday, friends.

So, remember when I told you I would fill you in on some of my favorite moments from our Christmas break?  Well, this is me following through... about three weeks later than planned.  Get ready for picture overload.

We started off our week at Herb and Beth's.  And a wonderful time it was.  With the newest, little family member we had this year, there was much less TV going, which was quite nice.  We spent our time playing with the little lady, the boys played basketball, Molly taught me how to knit, we played cards, and the girls got creative with a bunch of books when we didn't have a tree.

Beth and Herb were kind enough to let us celebrate Christmas early since Jered and I weren't going to be there on Christmas day.  Jessica cooked up her first batch of wassail for the gift exchange time, and it was delicious.

The boys, excuse me, men were all kind enough to slave away for a day on Jered's truck.  Although it may have taken longer than it needed to- I heard there was quite the dance party going on in the garage.  Herb looked like he was having the time of his life that day.  I promise, you've never seen brothers that love each other like the Flinkman boys do, and I know they were all missing their baby brother, Justin, this Christmas.

The annual game of charades was not disappointing this year either.  Everyone was on top of their game.  And laughter filled the room.

While I don't remember all the details because I waited so long to write, I remember the feeling I had when I was there.  I was constantly reminded of how lucky I am.  I don't think everyone marries into a family and is able to say that their in-laws don't seem like in-laws.  I feel as though I truly have brothers for the first time, and more sisters that I can honestly call friends too.  Every single person in the family helps to create a great group to belong to.

On Christmas Eve, Jered and I headed over to spend the second half of the week with my family.  We started things off with the Christmas Eve service, played some games and watched Christmas movies that night.  We woke up the next morning, as per usual, to Katie bouncing on our bed, telling us it's Christmas.  And, as per usual, we then anxiously waited at the top of the stairs until we got the go ahead to enter the living room.

My favorite gift moment was giving Jered his real Christmas present.  As I told you before, he and I celebrated Christmas together a week early.  But the gifts he opened that night were just cover ups for the real deal.  To throw him off, his gift got passed around the living room to each person, who in turn said it wasn't really for them.  Finally it got into Jered's hands, and he replied, "Well, someones' got to open it!"  He found an overnight bag packed with toiletries, and a smaller gift inside.  It was a Lakers shirt... for me.  (You see, he already has one.)  He looked utterly perplexed and just thought it was weird that I would have him open a shirt that was for me.  So I asked him, "Don't you think something goes along with all of that?"  He looked at me strangely, and I pulled out two tickets for us to go see his man crush, Kobe Bryant, in March, at which point he shouted, "No way!"  And I was in gift-giving-wife heaven.  Success!

Sorry, that was long winded.

Other favorite moments at home included our annual Christmas brunch, Jered and Dad butchering Jered's first deer, daily Nerf gun wars with the surprise gifts to everyone from Mom and Katie, playing Bowl of Stupid, spending time at The Farm with more family, doing a little after-Christmas shopping, having a hot chocolate bar and game night, and soaking up every minute I could with my family.

This has been rather lengthier than I planned.  I meant to give you a couple snapshots of our time, but there were so many I loved and wanted to share with you.  It was a wonderful Christmas season at the Flinkman and Rude households, and although it sounds cheesy and overdone, I am so thankful for our families and all they are to us.

So, that is all until next time.  Take care.

Aim

Simple Faith

(This is a letter I wrote last Friday, but I didn't get around to posting it until now.)

Hey,

Yesterday I told Jered that I would try to be awake when he got home from work since we weren't going to see each other all day.  I said this with complete enthusiasm and confidence around lunch time.  Ten o'clock hit, and it was a completely different story.

Nothing in the world sounded as good as my warm bed.  All I could think about was my alarm going off in a precious "few" hours.  However, I held on to my determination and started knitting while watching a movie, and I was able to stay awake until he got home at almost midnight.

And I was so blessed by doing so.  I had such good laughs in the twenty minutes between Jered walking in the door and my eyelids giving up the good fight.  Heartfelt giggles and carefree chuckles that I desperately needed.  I don't even remember what was funny- I was probably just slap happy, but in those moments, I was so content and thrilled with my life, I couldn't imagine anything better.

It may not be exciting or everything we dream for ourselves yet.  But sometimes I think that exciting is overrated.  Not always, but every once in awhile, it feels pretty magical to have quiet, simple nights.

(Here's the mister getting started on the tanning process of his deer.)

Well, I've been reading, what seems like loads, of articles, blog posts, etcetera, and often I come across religious discussions, varying beliefs, and the like.  I get overwhelmed.  So many questions, confusing ideas, contradictions, and controversial arguments.

I tend to get caught up in it all.  I want to be on the right side, the good side- I want to be righteous.  But as I learned way back in Ms. Harr's class, life's not always black and white.  Sometimes there's gray.  And my personality hates that.  I loathe not knowing answers.  (In school, I could not sit and work out a question on a test I didn't know.  I just got frustrated and stopped thinking, so if I didn't know right away, I guessed hastily and moved on.)  I want to know exactly what Jesus meant in some of his statements.  When is God being literal and when is it figurative?  I want boundaries, explanations, lists!

And so I go round and round... and round in my head.  Reading post after post.  Seeing questions that other people have about God that I wish I could answer, but can't because I don't always understand His ways myself.  Getting caught up in what He wants from us, and getting stuck on the rules and where my behavior falls on that scale.

While I despise arguing and conflict, I do think that we can have healthy discussions that cause us to reevaluate our stances.  I think that's beneficial.  But sometimes, I think we get caught up in hashing out and rehashing stuff.

I was reminded this week that we only need to have the faith of a child.  They don't have the understanding that adults have, but they trust anyway.  When I was little, I knew nothing of my parents except that they loved me and were there to take care of me.

The details have their place, but when it comes down to it, I just need to focus on God.  On His blessings, His provision, His holiness, His grace and mercy, His might.  On praising Him and thanking Him for who He is.

I don't need to know it all.  I just need to know Him.

*Enter huge sigh of relief here*

I'm incredibly thankful for that today.  He is good.

Until next time, friends,

Aim

At that time the disciples came to Jesus, saying, “Who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?” And calling to him a child, he put him in the midst of them and said, “Truly, I say to you, unless you turn and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven.

                                                                                               Matthew 18:1-4

Grandma Robbie

Hi,

Last night the mister made bacon wrapped venison steaks.  I was incredibly impressed- they were delicious.  Can you use "rich" to describe something like that?  Delicious, but I feel like I need to eat lettuce all day today.  (I fixed broccoli to go with the steaks, but it was awful.)

Those were the first steaks ever prepared in our household.  Pretty exciting evening, wouldn't you say?

That kind of cooking reminds me of Grandpa Bill and Grandma Robbie.  I have yet to attempt the steaks Grandpa gave me recipe for.  Grandma is a fantastic cook as well.  And she makes the most amazing coconut cake in the world.  Go ahead, ask anyone.  I don't even like coconut, but her cake is marvelous.

Let me tell you what else you need to know about Grandma Robbie.

As I've mentioned before, the word "step" has no bearing on the grandparent-ness she has.  She is our grandma through and through.

I guess I don't know too many southern women, but from what I understand she is the epitome of what they are described as being.  She has the absolute sweetest southern drawl, so that when she calls me "sweetheart" it sounds more like "sweet-tart," which I kind of love because I think that it honestly describes me a little more accurately.

You've heard my ravings about the southern cooking, so I won't rant any further about that; just know- mouth watering, finger licking good.

Grandma Robbie is a hard worker.  I would venture a guess that almost daily (weather permitting) she puts on her work clothes and heads outside to work in the yard.  And when the boys, excuse me, men, were redoing the deck, she led us in ridding the old boards of nails.  On fishing days, she is right there with us, fishing, and doing the dirty work for us most of the time.

She is playful.  My very favorite picture of Grandma Robbie is from when we were little, so unfortunately I don't have it with me or on my computer.  I don't know if it was annually, but I remember Grandma and Grandpa visiting us in the early spring several times.  Usually in March, I think.  And at least two of those times, we experienced big, late snow storms.  

The second snow storm was when I was attending Spoon, but the first was when Katie and I were little.  Probably grade school.  I'm pretty certain we were already guaranteed a snow day the next day, so that night, even though it was cold and dark, Grandma went outside with us to play in the snow.  I think we built a snow wall, and the picture is of the three of us and our snowman.  Then we took a bunch of snow inside and made snow ice cream.

She is strong.  She had to be to handle someone as stubborn and gruff as Grandpa.  At the same time, she seems to have this uncanny ability to let things roll off her back.  Sternness that would have made us nervous or uncomfortable, she seemed able to roll her eyes at or chuckle off.  I don't remember life before Grandma Robbie, but I think maybe she was the one who softened his rough edges.  

I'm so thankful for the role Grandma Robbie has played in our lives, and especially in Grandpa's.  She was so good to him.  She took care of him when he couldn't do it himself anymore.  When I look at them, I see love.  

Grandma Robbie is the final grandparent for me to tell you about.  She is a wonderful, priceless part of our family, and I'm thankful that God placed her in our lives.  

I love you, Grandma.

Aimee Lou

2014: Loving

Hello dear friends,

I'm taking another short hiatus from telling you about my grandparents.  I promise to tell you everything you need to know about my sweet Grandma Robbie next time.

I started off my day by browsing the blogs I follow.  If you don't have a list you're following, I would encourage you to do some searching because there are some amazingly beautiful writers in the blogging world.  You can find fun, lighthearted ones that cover recipes, DIY projects, and fashion.  You can also find blogs that cover specific areas like religion or parenting, and some that just cover everything.  I have found some wonderful blogs to follow, and they are truly enriching.

As you can probably imagine, writers are having a heyday with resolutions right now.  The blog I read this morning was similar, but it took a little different spin on the topic.  Rather than listing things she wanted to change or things she wanted to start doing, she simply chose one word that she wanted to describe her for the year.  For example, for 2014, she chose brave.

I started thinking that instead of making a to do list of unrealistic goals, this woman had the right idea.  Why set myself up to fail at a list of accomplishments, when I could actually work on myself as a person?  Improve my personality, challenge and strengthen my faith, better my marriage.  All by working toward one word.

This woman's post really just sealed what I was already thinking about after the message I heard on Sunday.  It was all about unconditional love, based on 1 Corinthians 13.  As I listened I, like the speaker, realized that I don't love my husband right.

Don't get me wrong- I am head over heels in love with my husband, and I choose to love him, and I try to demonstrate that love.  But, I'm not loving him the way he needs to be loved.   I'm not loving unconditionally; I love for myself.  I love to receive love back, and I love in the way I want to receive it from him.

Let me attempt to briefly tell you this man's story:  He was getting ready to start counseling with his wife, and his pastor made him agree to read 1 Corinthians 13 every night until they started their counseling.  He read it for a few nights and then all of the sudden, one night, "it does not envy" popped out at him.  As he read it more, he realized more and more that he wasn't really loving his wife.  He cried out to God, telling Him that it was all too much.  He could not be all of these things.  And then he felt God say, "You can be one.  You can work on one."  And that's what he did.

He chose to work on not being jealous.  He prayed about it earnestly and three years later, he felt like he was at a place where he could tell God, "Ok, I'm ready to start another one."

Much of his message was similar to the Love and Respect series, which is great and I think I could watch it at least once a year, but this message hit me differently somehow.  It was overwhelmingly convicting, and challenging.  Challenging, but doable.

It's not as though I've never read this passage either.  In fact, we chose it to be part of our wedding ceremony.  How can I read something so often, study it even, and yet fail to grasp what it's calling me to be.

I could easily provide a list of resolutions.  I want to read more.  I want to draw more.  I want to cook more.  I want to work out more.  I learn to knit better.  And maybe I will do some of those things.  But choosing one?  This year, I want to learn how to to love.  I want to learn to love how my husband needs to be loved.  Maybe I won't even "accomplish" one of these traits.  But I'm sure going to work on it and pray about it.  And one day, maybe I can say that I truly and unconditionally love my husband the way God intends.

So, I suppose if I have to choose one word for myself, one trait to work toward in 2014, it is loving.  Alot goes into that, but it is what I want my aim to be.  I want to look into my own heart and mind, hopefully not getting too disgusted by what I find, and figure out what needs to change and learn how to do so.

Well, I hope you are off to a grand start for the new year.  Talk to you soon.

Aim

The Early Santa

Happy New Year!

Man, I had high hopes of writing letters around Christmas to reflect on all that it means to me, my favorite things, and end of the year reflections too.  But here we are, already two days into the new year.

Well, hopefully at some point this week I'll manage to find some time to do a little of that.  Maybe, just a little Christmas talk today...

Jered and I celebrated our Christmas together a week early.  Just the two of us.  And I was just as anxious for that; the night before I was the little kid telling him it was basically our Christmas Eve because we were opening presents the next day.  When I walked into the apartment after work, I instinctively gave a singsong "Merry Christmas!"

I was welcomed into a tidy apartment that was lit with Christmas lights, swimming with the smell of pine, and to the table set and ready for dinner.  We snarfed down our chicken chili because we could hardly wait.  Then, we snuggled up on the couch and Jered read the Christmas story from Luke and then Matthew, since Luke doesn't mention the wise men.

After turning on some Martina McBride Christmas music, we dived into gift time.

I feel strange opening Christmas presents without hearing the story of the birth of Jesus first.  I guess that's because my family always started Christmas morning that way.  Every Christmas Eve and Christmas morning, we listen to the familiar story.  I suppose that's because my Dad grew up that way.  For that, I have my Grandpa George to thank.  In addition to hearing the story every Christmas morning at home, we also hear it every year on Christmas night at The Farm.

I was really hoping to have this letter written by, and posted on Christmas Eve because that's Grandpa's birthday, but unfortunately I got caught up in the holiday festivities.  So, you get to learn about Grandpa George today instead.

In addition to teaching us early on about the real meaning of Christmas, Grandpa spurred on our imaginations by dressing up as Santa on Christmas Eve.  Every year, after the candlelight service, when all of the grandkids were home, in their pajamas, settling in for a game or Christmas movie before bed, sleigh bells outside our homes announced the "early Santa," who would come by each of our houses and give us all one early present.

I'm fairly certain I was the last to figure out who our "early Santa" was.  It wasn't until the last year he visited that I recognized a familiar, green sweater sleeve sticking out of the Santa suit.

Something about Grandpa that will always stay with me is his scent.  He always smells of some kind of cologne or aftershave, and if you grab a hug right after he gets ready, you carry a little bit of it with you for awhile.  He, like Grandma, enjoys his bling, which Jered thinks is awesome.  What I think is awesome, is this visor that he's sporting.

Aside from the Christmas memories, my earliest recollections of Grandpa George include watching him chop down a tree in the woods and all of us yelling "timber!" as it fell, taking turns riding on the tractor with him as he pulled the rest of the kids around the yard in a wagon, going sledding or skiing down the big hill and having him haul us back to the top with his snow mobile or four wheeler, learning to play pool, playing at the beach on a big family vacation, lots of skiing trips, playing hide the thimble, riding in the back of his truck, learning card games, hearing "some days you eat the bear, and some days the bear eats you," and seeing him behind one of those big, old video recorders at every event.

We've gone on bunches of vacations with Grandma and Grandpa.  We've been to the east coast with them, Wyoming, Canada, Michigan, Branson, and Florida.  I remember on one ski trip, Grandpa and Dad took me up on one of the more difficult slopes, and I was terrified.  From where we started, it appeared that the mountain just dropped off, the snow wasn't plowed, and I just plain thought I was going to die.  But Grandpa and Dad took their time with me, reminding me to make a nice wide "v" with my skis to go slower, and that making wide turns would help me go slower as well.  He forced me right out of my comfort zone of zooming down the easy hills as fast as I could and made me try something I didn't think I could do.

Well, I told you how Grandma would have chores for us to do whenever we spent the night.  Grandpa had a list right along with it.  Usually he would have the boys help him with some outside chores while Grandma had the girls cleaning inside.  But sometimes, while he was working, our job was to be "Grandpa's Gopher."  The jobs were never too difficult.  I remember one time we had to put small rocks around the evergreen trunks.  (This also happened to be the time that Drew tried to scare us with a story about wolves down the road and around the corner.)  

He has always taught us that we need to work hard for what we want.  He and Grandma worked their way up from just about nothing to living as I hope Jered and I can one day.  And for all of the work they have taught us to do, they have given back to us more than we could ever ask.

As I mentioned before, Grandpa has always made it a priority to teach us about God.  To prepare us for the hardships of life basked in the hope we have in Him.  When we were little he promised each of us a dollar if we could recite by memory 2 Corinthians 6:14.  (Do not be yoked together with unbelievers.  For what do righteousness and wickedness have in common? Or what fellowship can light have with darkness?) If we ever couldn't recite it back to him after getting our dollar, we had to return it.  I'm happy to say I never had to do that.  

He has always been concerned about our walks with the Lord and does what he can to hold us accountable because he desperately cares about our eternities.  He holds strong to his convictions and has spent our lives teaching us to do the same.  I will forever be grateful for what he has taught us about the God who created us.  I guess that the spiritual foundations he gave us, were really better than any gifts that could have emerged from his Santa bag.

You know the deal, there's so much more, but that's all for now.  I love you, Grandpa.  Thank you for everything.

Aimee Lou