Thankful

I can't believe it's the week of Thanksgiving already. I feel like I have slept the Fall away. Truth is I have slept more than usual due to being in pain for several months then having surgery and the sleep that seems to accompany that. I think I'm good and awake now.
The other day, about a week and a half after my back surgery I was with Micah in Hobby Lobby. I got a call from LeAnn. When I told her where I was she said "That is so great." I knew what she meant but she went on to explain anyway. LeAnn is a serious prayer warrior, I call on her many times when I'm just not "feelin' it" to point me in the right direction. She has been with me in this valley of pain (as have so many other cherished friends) and has kept close tabs on the situation. When she said it was great that I was in Hobby Lobby she wasn't talking about me wanting to get some crafting done....she meant it was great because I'm gonna LIVE! Not that there was any doubt..I will live forever in Heaven but we were both a bit afraid to voice it but we both thought it..my back pain could have been something much worse! My doctor had given me three possibilities that he knew of, disc, a cyst or as he put it "something we'd have to biopsy". That last one made me go paler than I usually am. He followed it with a quick "I really don't think it's that" but he had to say it and that was enough. LeAnn went on to say she was just a little bit afraid we were going to be spending time, not cruising a craft store but talking about chemo options. It could have been so much worse. I mentioned my fear to an old friend on facebook chat. I asked was it wrong to not want to die if God was ready for me to...he said there was nothing at all wrong with asking God for more time. That was a comfort and that's what I did.
I want to live and do all I'm suppose to do. I want to live a full life free from pain and sickness (don't we all?) but sometimes we have to walk through that valley of the "shadow" of death. I think I tasted just a bit of the air from that valley in the last few weeks. I am grateful for it because I felt the presence of my shepherd the whole time. I got to talk to friends I haven't talked to face to face in years. I felt so loved by my family and friends and completely lifted up by the prayers of so many.
As Thanksgiving comes this week I am almost giddy. The thought of my house bursting at the seams with loving people that I so enjoy, the food, the cooking, the cleaning, every aspect of what goes into the holiday I welcome! God is so good!
I am so thankful.

Snapshots

I have this box of pictures. They are all from my childhood, some are things I actually seem to remember but many are just posed shots of me with the Christmas tree or a cat or my birthday cake. Being an only child was not all bad. I guess we are never totally happy with our station in life. But, I do at least have pictures. My precious additions don't have the luxury of looking at themselves in stages. Sweet little CJ asked me this morning "Mommy, what did I look like when I was a baby?". I told her she was beautiful just like she is now. I have never seen a picture of her any younger than three. I met her for the first time then. She was chubby and rosy cheeked with pitifully short bangs but she was beautiful. It pains me to tell her I don't know what she looked like. There are lots of pictures now! Starting just after Christmas in 2006 before her January birthday, and several pictures of her at her "Strawberry Shortcake" birthday party we threw when she was four days ours.
I found a picture of myself when I was about eight. Something about it was so familiar besides the fact that I've been staring at that face for fifty years. It was something about the eyes. I took other pictures turned over and framed the eyes by themselves...it looked exactly like Elle(Ariel). I took the picture still covered except the eyes and showed it to everyone in the house...told them to see if they could guess who it was...everyone guessed Elle. Could it be that my adopted daughter has my eyes? Who but God could do that. She honestly looks like her birth mother with the exception of her coloring. Otherwise she looks a lot like me. I have been challenged several times on that one by people thinking she was my biological child. We have had no pictures of her prior to age five. I received a call from my dear friend Leann tonight to tell me she had gotten her hands on some pictures of Elle as a toddler. (Leann is the adoptive mother of my girls' sister. She got a chance to visit their dying grandmother this week, talk about a committment to that child's happiness...I nominate Les and Leann parents of the year! They flew with her to Nevada to visit with this lady for a few hours.) I can't wait to see my little blonde as a mischievious baby. I know she will cherish the pictures too.
I have hanging in my dining room some beautiful pictures of the three girls I took at the beach this past summer. I am committed to them having pictures of themselves as children, happy, loved, dressed up and playing. They deserve that. Micah read a story about a young woman who carried a picture of a red haired child in her purse. She grew up in the foster system and had nothing of her childhood. She made the statement if anyone had cared to take her picture this was what she thought she looked like. My heart broke when I thought of all the silly pictures I have of my original four babies and how I would be devastated to lose them. They are the story of each one's childhood, and the fun they shared.
I haven't had my camera out often enough lately. I've blamed the dead battery. I have to do better as the Christmas season rolls in. I want my little girls to know they were cherished and loved as children and someday have a box of pictures they can pull out. I hope they laugh together about how Mom was the paparazzi at all their events and holidays, preformances and parties. I hope they know they were beautiful.

So, He Snores

This is for all the married women in my life who truly bless me everyday with their warmth and wisdom, for those of you who perhaps married really young and have stuck out some lean years (or started thinking soon after what in the world was I thinking) and of course to my beloved for all the good he brings to my life.

I was talking to a dear friend yesterday who was telling me about a woman she knows who made a snide remark about my friend's husband....I loved the way she was shocked at the woman's words and quite frankly wanted to go for her throat. Being the dignified Christian that my friend is she "just let it go" and vented to me...which I believe shows immense wisdom with the exception of me writing about it (of course I would never divulge sources). The woman wanted to get my friend into a conversation bashing her husband! My friend was having none of that. Good for her! and him!
Who of us is perfect? Why should we hold our husbands to a higher standard than we want to be judged ourselves?
I was twenty-two when MB and I tied the knot. I love to tell people I married a younger man...he had been twenty-one ten days. Yes, we were in the world's eyes too young. We had nothing...when we left for our honeymoon his brother stuck a wad of bills in his pocket, we used it for a run down hotel at the beach after we discovered the cottage we had borrowed had no water hooked up. We started our married life as college students with $3 between us. We were wealthy beyond imagination.If I had started compiling a list of things that "bugged" me about him then we wouldn't have lasted a year. To be fair, if he had done the same it would have lasted only a few months. I didn't see his flaws, or maybe I did, either way I was so in love with being in love it didn't matter.I had every reason to believe he was my Prince Charming and that is exactly how he's turned out.
I taught my girls to believe in their husbands...that is our highest calling, second only to God. I prayed for my beloved from the time I was about fifteen on, I have never had any reason to ask God if he was sure this guy was the one he had picked out for me. I can't say that he had a sign over his head that said "The One" but after a while I knew.
So, here's what I want to say...He snores. That's right, every night I listen to it for a few minutes thinking I can block it out then I can't. I shake him and ask him to turn over...he does and I can usually get to sleep because it's no longer in my ear. I started thinking about the fact that he snores and you know if I wanted to start my list now I could...he leaves his underwear in the bathroom floor every morning! just think!! The nerve of this guy leaving dirty underwear on the floor! I guess he means for me to pick it up! He also leaves his racquetball bag at the foot of the bed, sometimes in my middle of the night ventures to the bathroom I trip over it...I've considered waking him up and telling him HE nearly broke my neck. Let's face it, he can be a real pain! He slurps his coffee, watches football all day long on Saturday, ignores the kids fighting, etc...but,
what would I be without him?
I would not for one instant want to know. Because in spite of any little inconvenience or frustration he ever causes I love him.
He is so good.
I am thankful that he works so hard for our family. He teaches and owns a business and works at home to prepare for his classes and struggles with the money but does it all for his family. He doesn't even own his own vehicle. He drives my daddy's old Ford truck but never complains.
He listens to God.
He laughs at me.
He makes me laugh.
He is always the first to say he's sorry when we have a disagreement.
He prays with the girls at night.
He picks me daffodils every Valentines Day.
He brings me Snickers when he stops for gas, he loves them too but chocolate gives him headaches so this is a double sacrifice.
He hangs up his towel.
He doesn't mind doing the grocery shopping.
He will watch a good chick flick occasionally.
He tells me I'm beautiful.
He makes us all pancakes on Saturdays.
He likes to cook and is really good at it!
He appreciates little things I do for him (and lets me know it).
He tries to text even though it frustrates him.
He is an awesome example for our boys.
He helps with homework.
He gives even when he doesn't have anything left.
He doesn't complain about my housework or not having clean socks.
He doesn't complain about anything.
He is still quite the athlete...if you don't believe me play racquetball with him.
He has more patience than ANY man I have ever known...he has lived with four ADD family members without even a threat to harm any of us.
He always puts his change in the vacation jar.
He turns off lights all over the house every night
He reads all my stuff and is usually very complimentary.
He gives good hugs and even better kisses.
He can fix anything.
He can see something and build it.
He steps in and says "I'll get this" when he sees me struggling with something.
He makes us all feel safe.
He is not only my prince but the king at the end of the day and he walks through the door, all the kids, even the big ones are always glad to see him.
He is as solid as an oak, steady as the sun.
He never gets in a hurry about anything.
He is trustworthy, fair, thoughtful and honest.
He is really good at Scrabble.
He is creative and smart.
He never compared any of my cooking to his mothers.
He is the hands down best friend I ever had and I have some pretty good ones.
He has had to be my counselor/therapist countless times, couldn't have afforded him if he hadn't been in the family.
He loves to play.
He never takes credit for all the good he does.
These are not reasons I love him. That's an altogether more complicated matter but I do love these things about him and find much more satisfaction in listing them than coming up with flaws.
So, he snores...
He also has kept me warm at night for twenty-seven winters so I'm thinking I'll buy some earplugs and be happy with the gift that he is.

Living with it

I was sleeping so soundly this morning. I was dreaming about being at a cousin's wedding, eating shrimp and baked potatoes, watching children run around, the bride and her sister challenging everyone else to a game of basketball...crazy I know. Then the alarm went off and reality bit me. That's kind of what it feels like, I'm surprised I wasn't dreaming that a shark had me by the leg. I have never experienced this kind of pain. I don't want to remember it but I do want to feel compassion for others in pain. I feel crazy from the meds and yet the meds don't get rid of it. If I don't take anything I feel like pulling my hair out. I can't function with meds or without. This is truly like walking through the valley of the shadow of death. They still don't know for sure what is causing the pain. There is a spot on the MRI. It could be a disc out of place, a facet cyst or "something to be biopsied". I don't like to even say the last choice out loud. It is a terror I don't want to consider, but it is there in the back of my mind all the time. I'm sure my ememy wants me to give in to dispair and believe I am dying. I really don't believe that. The reality is...I am in intense pain. It has to go away. Maybe tomorrow. There is a surgery scheduled, I am praying for relief.

Cousins Undiscovered

I have written about my beloved's huge family before. We are over one hundred in number now, I've lost count. One time when my older son was a little guy he compared us to Abraham and the family he got from his "only" child. I don't see any sign of the Brown clan slowing down. The fact that Michael came from a big family was a real attraction to me. He had ten siblings, so did my daddy. Unfortunately, my dad's family hasn't done a very good job of staying in touch. My grandmother died twentyfive years ago and some of us have not been in the same room since. In the age of cell phones and email it seems we are more disconnected than ever.
I had a very pleasant surprise today. I "found" a cousin on facebook. To give some background...I met with my friend Dori for coffee this morning. We are good friends who never see each other. She understands me and I think I do her. She reminded me that she was "part raised" by my aunt Mary Mayberry who lived in Demopolis most of her life. Dori moved to Opelika about twenty years ago and I was one of her first friends. When we started talking she told me where she was from and I naturally asked her if she knew Aunt Mary with no idea she not only knew her but was treated like one of her own. I have to admit I was a bit jealous to know Dori had known her so well (she was always one of my favorite relatives) but it's so neat to know they were connected and now we are connected. When I got home I sent a note to Dori on facebook. I noticed that W. Myles Mayberry III was one of her friends...I didn't think to ask her if she kept in touch with any of Aunt Mary's children. I friend requested Myles and he responded in a few minutes. I am so glad to get a chance to get to know one of my first cousins I don't remember every talking to. Isn't that weird. I can't imagine having family so close in blood that I don't know at all. He has a brother and a sister I wouldn't recognize either. Maybe we can meet eventually. It will be strange but nice to see the kids my aunt (and sweet Uncle Myles) produced now that she is gone to Heaven. I know she is smiling about that.

...one quick story about Mary, one of the reasons I loved her so much... She knew it was a sore spot between my mother and me the fact that I had "so many" children. When I just had the girls I took them to see her. She was so loving and sweet with them, they loved her immediately. She looked up at me and asked if I was planning to have more children...I told her I would like to, but my mother gave my *%$# every time I mentioned it (not that it was up to her but you want your mother to approve of your decisions) She looked me in the eye with that precious twinkle and said "Oh Angie, have a house full!" Somehow, having her approval counted alot. She was a jewel. I really regret missing out on more of her wisdom...I did go on to have two more children they all share her wit and love of life and we have the little girls we are adopting, somehow I feel she'd be proud.

Lucy

Our dog is old. She's somewhere around 88 if you're talking about "people years". All of us grown folks have been expecting the day when "something" happens to her. It looked like that day this morning.
We got Lucy when the boys were little. We didn't plan on getting a dog but I was cornered at a Christmas party by a young lady from church. She told me the puppies were going to the pound...tomorrow! She had two left in the litter, she just wanted me to "look" at them. I made it clear we didn't need a dog. I caved. She brought in the absolute cutest puppy I had ever laid eyes on. She was white and tan with the sweetest little face, part Cocker Spaniel, part lab maybe, she was a mutt but she was a beauty. I couldn't resist taking her home. She threw up in our van twice on the ride but we didn't care she was "OUR DOG". We changed her name once. She started out Holly because it was Christmas, but after a few minor calamities, like falling in the pond and getting stuck in a paper bag we changed it to Lucy, that one just fit.
I had justified getting a puppy by thinking she would be a good companion for me while I walked...I did give it a try, each time I would end up carrying her home. I also thought she would be a good watch dog, which to her credit she lived up to. She's always been very protective of "her" kids. She joined the family during the pacifier era. Matthan and Seth both had them, we were trying to get rid of them, somewhere there is a video of Lucy with a "passy" in her mouth, she helped in the destruction of the last few we had around.
She has been with us since Seth was not yet two years old. The boys don't remember life without her. The girls probably really don't remember what life was like without her either. She has been with us through good and bad. She took up with my mother after my dad died, she would go up to Mama's house and sleep on her back porch in a recliner that never made it to the thrift store. I'm sure she brought Mama comfort. One time she went missing. We called and looked for several days. I was distraught thinking she was lost. Then on Sunday as we were leaving church we were handed a message from Mama, "Come home, I have a surprise for you", I figured it was pot roast and potatoes...it was Lucy, sitting on the carport. We had no idea where she had been but she was a happy girl.
This morning Michael called me from the kitchen. Something was wrong with Lucy. When I got in there she was on her stomach with her four legs sprawled in every direction. She couldn't get up. I was afraid she'd had a stroke...I think dogs do that. I've known she was likely to because for years she's refused to eat dog food, for Lucy it's cat food or cornbread...those are her two preferences for any meal. I've been told cat food is higher in fat so it's not good for a dog? She's been eating like this for at least seven or eight years so I suspect her cholesterol is dreadfully high. She actually survived heart worms about ten years ago. Michael and I scooted her back on her bed and moved her to the wall out of the middle of the kitchen floor. She looked pitiful, I dreaded what the remainder of the day would hold. I pictured us calling Jere Colley to come with his truck to take our dead dog away. I dreaded the boys hearing the news. Matthan said he held his breath when he heard us say something was wrong, afraid it was "that day". We told Seth she was sick and he talked lovingly to her for a few minutes then we all went to church...On the way Seth (who had not left the house yet) called and told me that Lucy had just walked up and put her wet nose on him! Well, she was walking again, maybe she just needed some attention. She sure fooled us.
A little while ago I heard happy frantic barking and looked outside. Seth was holding Lissy's hands as she tried to stand up on her new roller blades, Lucy was walking around them barking and wagging her tail. I guess she decided she had some protecting left in her. Who knows she may live to be a hundred.