Greetings From The Circus

2011-08-11T11:31:00.000-05:00

I just about had a heart attack just now. I thought for a minute I'd deleted my blog. Can you even do that? It turns out I was playing around with starting a different one in addition to this one to maybe share more specific things. When I signed in it said I had no posts. That would not make me happy. I have put most of my posts on facebook too but some things are on here that aren't on there and vice versa. I am still so inept when it comes to blogging. I really thought by now I would be much further down the road. I still have to fight my computer to post pictures....I swear it never happens the same way twice.
I refuse to accept that I am too old to learn. As long as my typing fingers still work I can write and that I will. Maybe my blog will be dull. Maybe it won't. I just need to keep working on it.
I'm reading a book that my young musician friend, Dallas Dorsey handed me months ago. It is called, "The Artist's Way" by Julia Cameron. It is very inspiring. In it she encourages us to be creative. We are after all products of The CREATOR, he intended for us to continue in his way. I love that she backs the notion that God wants us to work in our giftings....I've been barking that for years. I've also held the opinion that we are all creative in some way. I think we are happier when we pursue creativity, even if it is in business, or play.
I'll write more as I continue to read. Julia actually expects me to and gives writing as an assignment called "Morning Pages". How appropriate for a procrastinator.

Lost and Found

2011-07-12T21:01:00.000-05:00

I was talking to a friend the other day who announced he found a classmate of ours through the internet. None of us had heard from this man since we were all still kids, although several people tried to find him.
We were part of a very small school, there were only sixteen in my senior class, you would think it would be easy to stay connected to that many people.
My friend said he looked up his name on some sort of information site and sure enough, he was right there. Turns out, he is a mayor of a small town. We were all hooligans back in the day. There were things our mayor friend did that made us chuckle at the thought of him sitting behind a desk, wearing a suit, making decisions for a town.
It's funny to me how we watch ourselves age in the mirror but the people we have lost touch with remain eighteen. I can't imagine some of my former classmates as grandparents. I had an equally hard time imagining some of them as parents. It would have been doubtful when we all graduated that any of us could keep a goldfish alive much less children! We were good kids, but the seventies were pretty much carefree for us.
Now, we have all recieved our AARP cards in the mail. Most of us are at least starting to feel more room in the nest (I am an exception because I keep adding little birdies to mine).
Thankfully, the internet has become the way to locate long lost friends. I have discovered several classmates I would have never found, without access to the social network I enjoy.
My friend said he called our fellow classmate with the number the website provided. He had to leave a message with a son. He has not heard back. This makes me wonder if some people just don't want to be found. I can't imagine having a gold mine of old friends seeking me out and not responding.
For now, our mayor friend remains a mystery. We don't know if he is happy and content with his life or if he really aspires to bigger things. Perhaps I will get a call from a reporter someday asking questions about a particular presidential candidate, someone I knew back in the day when we were eighteen. I'll have no choice but tell what I know...he was a hooligan, then he was gone.

Dumpster Diving

2011-07-12T10:42:00.000-05:00

Ordinarily I try to keep a clean column. But this week I must warn, I'm talking trash.
Now that I have your attention, let me explain. I have rediscovered dumpster diving. I say "re" discovered because a few years ago my artist friend, Pam and I used to hit the VanNostran's cabinet shop dumpster after hours to dig out prime pieces of wood to paint on. And yes, on occasion we actually got IN the dumpster and pilfered through the sawdust.
Of late, I have been on another dumpster mission. Yellow Pepsi caps and Pepsi twelve pack boxes. These particular items are worth their weight in gold to BigHouse Foundation, the charity near and dear to my heart.
The Pepsi Company offers incredible grants to organizations willing to solicit votes online and through text messages from their supporters. BigHouse Foundation won a $25,000 grant in 2009 to buy equipment, start an afterschool program, pay for improvements to the building and otherwise help run the organization day to day.
This year BigHouse has applied for a $10,000 grant to provide packages for children in twenty Alabama counties who are new to foster care. These packages will provide emergency items: New pajamas, underwear, shoes, hygene items, school supplies, a toy and various other age appropriate needs. These packages are needed because more often than not children are brought into foster care with only the clothing they have on. It is common for a foster family to welcome a new child as an emergency placement and it is impossible to have everything a child needs in appropriate sizes at any given time. It is the desire of BigHouse and case workers as well as foster parents to make these children as comfortable as possible quickly. Having a care package to give them will help.
The way to win the grant is to collect the most votes on the Pepsi website.
It is free to vote but you can power vote by purchasing Pepsi products and looking for the code on the yellow caps and on the cardboard can packages.
My family bought numerous bottles of Pepsi this past weekend but could not be happy with our own collected codes. My daughter and son-in-law suggested we revisit my dumpster diving habit. We loaded the old Suburban and hit all the recycling bins in Lee County.
We drew the line at mixed trash, but found the recycling bins surprisingly clean. We collected a few yellow caps but hunted to no avail for crushed cardboard twelve pack boxes. We laughed about what we must have looked like to the few recyclers who actually came to drop something off.
I won't ask you to join us in dumpsters. But, I urge you to please buy Pepsi products this month and save your yellow caps for BigHouse. The contest is over at the end of the month. You can drop your caps off at BigHouse on Samford Ave in Opelika next door to the Onion Bookstore or at Integrity Auto Service on Geneva Street, or you can vote! This is a great way to support BigHouse directly. You can find all the information you need by going to www.ourbighouse.org or "friending" BigHouse on facebook. Thank you, Your help will keep this woman out of the trash.

Merging Traffic Ahead

2011-06-27T23:00:00.000-05:00

The other day a lady used her horn to voice her opinion of my driving. If she had seen the situation from behind my steering wheel she would have seen me avoid an accident under a red light at a busy intersection. I moved into the other lane which unfortunately disappeared after a hundred yards or so onto the interstate. My only choices were to stop or merge. I chose merge, thus the unfortunate honking incident. I didn't cut her off, by the time I was in her lane traffic was moving again. It was just that she would have preferred I stay in the back of the line where she thought I belonged, under that red light with cars and trucks zooming by at ridiculous speeds.
I wanted to pull the honker over in Barney Fife fashion and give her a piece of my mind. But, I had to remember, she could not see the possible accident I was about to cause...she just saw that I merged in front of her. I doubt she even had to brake, I may have made her one second later than she already was. I was actually only in front of her for maybe half a minute. I turned into McDonalds. She sped on her way.
We went on an adventure this past weekend with almost our whole circus. We drove to North Atlanta to float on innertubes down a part of the Chattahoochie. It was great fun, but I noticed something while we were there. People don't like to wait. I'm not even sure that waiting was the problem, I almost think just being behind the next group was what got blood boiling. We squeaked in by the skin of our teeth. The family waiting in line in front of us turned and told my daughter they were already sold out of innertubes for the day. We stood there looking at each other for a minute then I voiced what she was thinking, "Let's beg!"
She assured me she could handle it and vanished into the sea of grumbling, whining, cussing patrons emptying out of the ticket area.
It reminded me of Dorothy, when she got to Oz, and was first turned away. She could handle the disappointment for herself but, dang it, she was not going to disappoint her fellow adventurers.
My daughter went to the window and found a sympathetic ear. She told the lady she had been trying to make reservations for three days and could not get an answer, then she told her she had talked to her earlier in the day, and as nicely as anyone possibly could she told her we had driven two and a half hours with children to float down this river and by golly...well, she didn't really go that far. The lady in the window told us we could be the last group of the day.
So, we sat and waited. We were so thankful we were "in' we didn't dare complain that it was hot or there were no real bathrooms. We all kept our attitudes in check knowing we would probably be the very last people on the bus with "$10 Tubes" painted on the sides, that hauled people to a drop off spot. After a while we started noticing other groups getting impatient. One dad puffed out his chest in front of his kids and demanded to go next or get a refund. Another group's designated complainer was a young woman in smart expensive sunglasses. She held a clipboard and wore wedge heeled flip-flops, tapping her foot as she interigated the little teenage worker with "Event Staff" on her t-shirt. It was not so much that it took so long.It was just the anticipation of being next. I think they felt they were being merged in on. I rarely care if I am first at anything. I probably get this from living with a mild mannered man for thirty years. His children are pretty much the same. We are all just glad to be there.
It was Jesus who said, "The first shall be last and the last be first", a good thought anytime, but especially if traffic calls for merging.

2011-06-09T17:30:00.001-05:00

Oh my, I am finally getting what I've been belly achin' about for months now...a girls weekend! I sat with a group of moms the other day at Chik-fil-a lamenting how busy we all are and how we need to take time for ourselves and somebody mentioned leaving town...this weekend!! After the necessary calls to our sweet husbands (and I mean that!) we were set. It was funny and probably more a "God Thing" that we all have plans for weekends to come but had this very one open!
None of us cared where we were going, we just wanted a couple of days where we didn't have to make plates or cut up someone elses food...where ever that is.
Angela G. was our travel planner. She got on the phone and after a few hours had a grand resort booked. Now that is the ticket for worn slap out mama's.
We are all "readers". We are all most likely taking a book to devour by the pool because we won't be listening to our own little darlings yell, "Hey Mom, watch this!" I hope no one else has little darlings in the pool at the lovely resort wanting to share their every belly flop with their moms...because if the rest are like me, I HAVE to look anytime someone says "Maaaaaahhhhhmmm" or "Mom,mom,mom,mom!" Like a swimsuit wearing two legged revolver.
I am planning on packing my tiny fan for beside my head, earplugs for anyone else staying in my room, benedryl, prozac (yes, I have a prescription, and no, I probably won't be needing it), some fun "who cares if I look fat" clothes, chocolate, flip-flops and my camera. I will want to have pictures to make sure I remember that I did get away...back in June of '11. It might not happen again for a long time.

Fun with Friends

2011-06-07T22:39:00.000-05:00

Recently I found myself in a church parking lot with three other moms, looking a bit lost having just dropped our children off at Vacation Bible School. My three little ones were graciously invited by our sweet neighbor. I gladly accepted the invitation and signed them up leaving them in wonderful company at the Methodist Church across town from the Baptist Church we attend.
The three other moms are all friends of mine, all younger than me by more than a few years but since I am a "start-over" mother I am accepted into the mothers with young school children society.
When it finally sunk in that our children were busy for the next three hours somebody suggested we grab a quick breakfast.
I had a list of errands and grocery shopping to do but I jumped at the chance to sit with these girls and enjoy some grown-up company. We decided to meet at Chik-fil-a in a few minutes. On the way I had a hunch this meeting would be fun, and that it was no accident.
I knew all three of the women, two knew each other but one started out as just my friend. It took under a minute, thanks to the absurdities in the news of late, for us all to be laughing hysterically. I believe great friendships are built with laughter as the foundation. It's just good for us.
One of the women at the table has battled cancer for a while. She is serious about beating it but she has the most joyful personality. It's her faith that God is very much aware of her problems and is working them out that makes her free to laugh it up. Who can argue with that? She actually makes people around her feel more healthy by making them laugh with her.
Another woman at the table is pregnant, a happy time for sure, but she has had one problem after another with this pregnancy. She has trusted God and been loved by her friends through the days of bedrest and fear. She is a major source of joy and humor in my life. She told us all about an elderly woman she has befriended who is from the same part of the country she is. We were all in stitches listening to her tell how the woman would be declaring her devotion to her one minute then ask how she knew her the next.
The third woman, is such an encourager that she has kept my feeble dream of becoming an author singlehandedly alive for several years now. Rarely do we have a conversation that doesn't leave me saying, "I think I can, I think I can".
Everyone should have friends like these. People who inspire, encourage and induce laughter just by being themselves. I am blessed indeed.

2011-06-02T21:56:00.000-05:00

~It has been said the opposite of love is not hate- but indifference~

Ailene pulled her SUV to a stop and rested her head on the steering wheel. She wanted to cry but there were no tears. She was past the point of crying. She had done all that years earlier when she realized she married the wrong man. Now, she just wanted a way out.

Gary put away his woodworking tools and closed the door of his shop. He spent most of his time restoring furniture, fixing things for family and neighbors and tinkering with his old junk car. His shop was his little piece of calm in an otherwise tense environment.
Aileen and Gary married when she was too young and he was too immature. The fact that he had a good job was attractive to Aileen at first. She was proud to be engaged to someone six years older who had direction and knew what he wanted. His proposal was not very romantic. He bought a ring and gave his sales pitch. He could provide a good life for her; she could stay home and raise children or anything she wanted. The anything she wanted part had been the hook. Aileen did not know at the time what that was.

Soon after the wedding, Aileen found herself pregnant with her first child. This was a happy surprise and she kept busy preparing the nursery and doing the day-to-day things an expectant mother finds herself doing. She cooked for Gary and did laundry, she wallpapered the dining room and painted baby furniture. She was happy enough. Sometimes she would watch Gary at night while he read the paper or flipped channels on the television. She wanted to say she loved him passionately but she did not. She wanted to find something interesting in him but the truth was she found him very flat and boring. He would not talk about anything. She wondered if he talked to people at work, on the street, anywhere. Maybe it was that she was so boring he could not relate to her.
He started teaching a Sunday School Class at their church. She sat quietly and allowed him study time during the weeknights then he would stand before a group of young adults on Sunday morning and act as if he knew what it was like to live a fulfilled life. He lived a dead life to Aileen; she could not stand to hear him get all happy about the Bible when he was such a dud at home. At least, when the baby was born she would have her own little person to love and talk to. She was determined to be a good mother, if she could not in her heart be a good wife.
There were times in the marriage when Aileen and Gary almost enjoyed each other. They took walks when Josh was born, people in the neighborhood saw them and commented to Aileen how cute they were. She was happier than she had ever been but she still had a lifeless marriage. What would people think if they knew her good Christian husband was sullen and silent at home. She didn't want to hurt his image or her own so she made up a life. In this life everything was fine. She talked herself into believing it would all work out. She was not lonely and Gary really loved her somewhere down inside. She hoped she would grow to love him in time.

When their daughter Abby was born Aileen finally told Gary she thought they should see a counselor. He asked what for. She told him she didn't think he loved her. He remarked that she had no grounds to say such a thing. Once again he reminded her of the agreement they had, he would provide and she would take care of the family. He felt he was holding up his end of the bargain. He had advanced in his job and was making decent money but Aileen never felt it was theirs to share. She handled the checkbook but bought little for fun. She knew Gary worked hard and she didn't want the disapproval of spending his paycheck on frivolous things.
As the children grew Aileen spent more and more time with them and forgot she had an empty relationship at home. Josh was involved in sports and Abby loved dance and music. Aileen wanted her parents to be involved in her children’s lives but they showed little interest. She tried to make it up to them by always being the mom with the camera on the front row. Gary was obviously proud of them too. Aileen never implied that he didn't love their kids, he seemed to naturally relate to them.
So why was she so left out. She knew the day would come when no one at home really needed her.

Today she had come to a decision. She had to do something to find real love. Not a cheap impression of the real thing but a real relationship with a real man.
She knew this was going to be a hard pill for Gary to swallow. It would certainly strip him of his Sunday School Teacher image. She was a bit sorry for what she was planning but she knew she had to change or die.

Aileen devised a plan. She would get a job, save some money and then tell Gary she wanted a divorce. This would be her last chance at a life she dreamed of.

On Monday morning she put on her white blouse and navy pants applied makeup, brushed her hair. She noticed a few silver strands and wondered if a new cut would help. She wasn't old but she sure felt like it. Maybe a bright colored lipstick or a makeover at the mall cosmetics counter would make her feel young again.

Most of the businesses she applied to wanted more work related experience. Aileen thought taking care of a home and family was quite a bit of experience but she was refused several times before a girl in the coffee shop told her of an opening she knew about. It was a job with city government. She knew it was a long shot but she gathered all her confidence and walked into the office. An older woman greeted her and gave her an application. They made small talk for a minute and the woman asked Aileen what kind of experience she had. When she lowered her head the woman spoke,
“Hum, a homemaker I suppose? I know that look…tell you what, there is a section on the back of page two that asks for skills that may apply…you write down everything you did in a day when your children were small...don’t leave out a thing! The man who interviews for this position will be very interested in your experience.”
Aileen smiled at the woman but wondered if she was serious or just making fun. When the woman stuck out her hand and introduced herself as Joan, the administrative assistant to the mayor Aileen smiled. “Good city government is a lot like running a home“. Mayor Carpenter says that himself. If he had not given me a chance a few years ago I would still be at home cleaning my bathtub grout with a toothbrush.” Aileen laughed.

As she filled out the application her confidence wavered again. She had no references, no prior employers, no education beyond bookkeeping at the junior college. What would they see in her? Joan took the almost blank paper and looked at page two.
“Atta girl”. Aileen had done what she said and listed everything from changing diapers to counseling teenagers at church.
Mayor Carpenter was younger and less stuffy than Aileen had expected. He asked her a few questions about her training at junior college. It had been so long ago but Aileen knew how to keep a checkbook balanced to the penny. She was a master coupon clipper and could squeeze a weeks worth of meals out of a pound of hamburger.
As they talked, Aileen grew more comfortable about the subject matter. Mayor Carpenter set her at ease. Finally after a few minutes he stood up and asked Aileen if she could start on wednesday. She was so excited she forgot to ask what she would be doing.

She could not wait to tell someone she had a job. But, she didn't pick up her phone. She had no one to call. Her almost grown children were both in college and had busy lives of their own. She had no real friends to speak of, she didn't dare call Gary.

On Wednesday Aileen was at work early. She was greeted by Joan and another city employee, Chris. Chris was a young man who looked like he might be right out of college. Aileen thought he looked like he may have partied there in the middle of the week. He was nice but not very talkative. It was okay though Joan made up for him.
Aileen learned quickly that Joan was a hugger. When someone came in the office Joan knew she would come out from her desk for a big old bear hug. This was strange to Aileen but she soon got used to it. Joan was actually the person training Aileen for her job. She was to help coordinate events the city provided for the public. This was quite a challenge compared to the birthday parties and occasional dinners Aileen had planned. She picked up all the responsibilities with no problem and loved every minute of it. One of the perks of the job was a laptop of her own. She would finally have something to do while Gary flipped channels. She had heard of all the social networking that was going on but had never seen any of it. She had to take a crash course in technology from Chris before she could even log on. Chris asked her if she was interested in joining one of the networking sources. When she asked him what that meant he explained how she could talk to friends and post thoughts and stories, she could even blog. She did not have a clue what that meant although she pretended to. Chris set up her networking account and took and uploaded a nice picture of her. She felt so savvy and up to speed. Chris smiled behind her back at her excitement.
“Now, Aileen, beware of stalkers on here…a lady as pretty as you might get in trouble.” Once again Aileen did not understand what he was talking about but she nodded and smiled as if she did.
When she pulled out her laptop at home that night Gary looked up from his paper. He asked what she was going to be doing on that and when she said social networking he got up and went into the kitchen. Aileen expected him to protest but he didn't. She opened the networking site and realized she had three friend requests. They were Joan, Chris and Mayor Carpenter. She laughed to herself that these would probably remain her only “friends” for a long time. She was wrong.

Night after night Aileen enjoyed going online, looking up articles to do with work and getting on her social site. She added a few more people she met through work. She felt as though she had a real life for the first time ever. Gary noticed how much time she spent but never said much. He had his woodworking shop with several projects going. Aileen didn't really care what he was doing as long as he didn't complain about her new found freedom and fun. More requests began to come in from friends from high school and the short time she spent at junior college. A woman named Sandy messaged her asking if she would like to get together for coffee. Aileen remembered her from a couple of classes they shared. She agreed to meet her on her lunch break later in the week

It was so nice to have people interested in her for a change. Gary asked occasionally how she was liking her job and even commented on how nice she looked in a new outfit she bought. Aileen thanked him but reminded herself that it was too little too late to get her attention. She was bent on that hard earned money paying an attorney, just a few months and she would be on her own.

One afternoon as Aileen sat at her desk Joan noticed she had not spoken in a while. She walked over and commented on her pretty wedding ring and asked how Gary liked her working outside the home. Aileen told Joan what she had planned. Joan was obviously disappointed to hear this.
“You know darlin’, we make people out to be whatever we want them to be. Maybe Gary has never felt that you were happy with him…instead of knowing how to fix it maybe he’s just tried to stay out of your way.”
“Well he’s done a good job at that”, Aileen replied.
“You just never can tell about those quiet types.”
Aileen knew what she meant but she didn't want to think this may have all been her fault. What if Gary was just lost in this relationship. She had never made him listen to what she wanted. She just always assumed he didn't care. Besides, he was dull. He would never understand what drew her to this job with the city or the fun of social networking.

Months passed and Aileen grew more successful at work, the mayor gave her more responsibilities and she earned raises. She had been able to save a good little nest egg to use to set herself up when the divorce was done. Gary started spending more time tinkering in his workshop so she was almost independent already.

One night she was checking her email and her networking page. She noticed a friend request from someone she didn't know. She knew Chris had warned her to be careful with this kind of thing but the man looked really friendly. She clicked on his info…name; Stephen Banks, Age; 40, Hometown; Columbus, Ohio, Marital status; divorced…red flags went up when Aileen saw this. Why would a divorced man she didn't know be interested in her. They had no mutual friends…then she saw his “interested in” status, it said friendship. She liked that he said that…not “women” or “networking” but “friendship”. Since she only had about fifty friends she thought she would accept his request and just be careful from there. He was very nice looking, but not overly handsome. She still wondered how he found her, she did not live in Ohio and she had never even been in Columbus. She got up the nerve and asked.
When the response came back it simply said. Saw your picture, thought you looked nice. Aileen felt kind of sorry for the guy. Then she realized he only had ten friends. She asked if he was new to the site, he replied that he was. She accepted his request and the two started chatting.
Stephen- Hello, I know you probably think I’m a stalker
Aileen- Well that remains to be seen I guess.
Stephen-LOL
Aileen-So what are you then?
Stephen- Just a lonely guy.
Aileen- Ha, so you come here often?
S-You are cute as well as pretty
A- Uh oh, sounds like a stalker already
S-Sorry, to answer your question, no I am new to the place.
A- I’m kinda new myself
S- Didn’t see that you were married or not?
A-Don’t give out that kind of info, lets keep it simple okay?
S-Ok, do you like root beer? Is that too personal?
A- LOL, no…hate it.
S- Uh, yeah…me too
A- How about coffee?
S- Never touch the stuff.
A-Okay…Fries or onion rings?
S-Fries….Summer or Winter?
A- Summer…you?
S-Winter…what about the fries/onion rings?
A-Oh Fries for me too.
S- Well, I feel as though we are old friends already.
Aileen laughed. She looked at the picture in the corner of his page. It was hard to make out his face, he was standing in snow somewhere holding a bucket. It was an odd picture but it looked friendly. What could talking to him online hurt. She was not going to get involved with anyone before she told Gary it was over between them. Having anyone to chat with at night was nice. Gary sure was not trying to start a conversation.

At work Aileen told Chris about the new friend she had added. He looked at the picture, clicked a few keys and asked her if she realized there were 250 Stephen Banks listed on the network they were on. He told her to have fun but not to give out personal info like addresses or phone numbers. She assured Chris he had adequately warned her about giving any personal info out to strangers.

Later that evening when she got home she saw Stephen had left a message…“Chat at 8?” She washed dishes and folded a load of laundry before grabbing her laptop and settling into her chair in the living room. Gary had gone out to feed the dogs and sweep out his old truck. At least now Aileen didn't feel alone.
Stephen instantly showed up on her chat
S- Have a nice day?
A-Yes, it was good, you?
S- So so, I don’t love my job but it pays the bills
A-What is it that you do?
S-I’ll tell if you’ll tell
A-Oh yeah, we don’t ask personal questions do we.
S-It’s a good job, I just don’t get the chance to interact with people much….makes it boring.
Aileen thought to herself…sounds like my marriage, she would have never typed that though.
A- Sorry, I think maybe I understand, I have had experience with boredom.
S-Ah ha, so you ARE married!
A-I did not say that! But, if you must know…
S-As I thought, the good ones are always taken.
A-Well,
S-What?
A-Nevermind, can I ask what you do for fun?
S-I read, I study people, I like to do things with my hands.
A-Sounds interesting….
S-You mean boring…LOL
A-No I didn’t mean that. You just sound like someone else I know who never has a thing to say. I mean I have had it with the silent, serious, uninterested…
S- Whoa girl, didn’t mean to get you upset.
A- I’m sorry, I sound like a psycho don’t I?
S- Yes, a little LOL
A-Ok, well, truth is I am married…to someone who hasn’t talked to me in years. We don’t have a marriage we have an arrangement.
S- So this is why you are online at 8 o’clock. I just thought you liked the looks of me.
A-It is good to be able to talk to someone. Let’s go back to something fun…favorite color?
S-Green!
A-…Action or comedy?
S- Westerns, apple juice or orange?
A-Apple
Aileen and Stephen chatted for two hours. Every now and then a touchy subject would come up but one of them would steer the conversation back to something light. Aileen found him to be charming and quick witted…she thought about Gary. If he had just a little bit of Stephen’s personality maybe there would have been a chance.
Later when Gary came in from his shop Aileen was asleep on the couch. He covered her up with an afghan and left her there. He had no idea.

The job at the city required Aileen to attend the functions she helped plan. She asked Gary if he wanted to go to the first one. It was a dance in the town square. He didn't look very enthusiastic but he said he would go. Aileen was surprised but thought it would be nice for him to meet Joan and Chris and all the other people she had befriended over the past few months. She warned Joan in advance that Gary did not know she was planning to divorce him as soon as she could. Joan gave her a sad look and assured her she would never say anything. In fact, the only thing Joan ever said was that she was praying for them both. Aileen just rolled her eyes and told her she better pray that Gary wouldn’t starve to death once she left. Joan was serious, Aileen was not.
At the dance Aileen led Gary around like a puppy. He did look rather handsome in his navy suit and red tie. Aileen bought a new dress and shoes and had her hair swept up in a young updo. They danced once to a slow song and she thought she heard him say she was beautiful but wasn't sure, they were interrupted when the mayor stepped up to the microphone and cleared his throat. When he announced that the city had raised enough money to put in the fountain they had been planning for in front of the revolutionary war monument everyone broke into applause. He credited it to the hard work of several people, one being Aileen. Gary smiled at her and winked. She could not believe her eyes. He actually looked proud of her, for her. She choked back tears as the crowd continuing their applause. Later that night Gary hung up his suit and put on his coveralls, he told Aileen he had to put a quick coat of varnish on the table he was restoring for the church foyer. Aileen was glad to see him go out so late because she needed to check her chat..
Of course Stephen was there.
A-Hello
S-Hi, where ya been?
A-City function
S-Oh yeah, how’d it go with the Mr Personality?
A-Stop it, you don’t know anything about him.
S-So we are getting defensive, are we? I was just repeating what you’ve called him…
A- I have not.
S- That’s right, you called him boring.
A-I didn’t do that either…anyway, it was a nice event lets talk about something else.
S-Okay, how about you come out here for the weekend.
A-What? No way!
S-Why not? I won’t hurt you.
A-I have no intentions of meeting you anywhere.
S-I knew it…you are just stringing me along.
A- I am certainly not…I am still married.
S-But you are not planning on staying that way are you?
A- I have never told you that..!
S-No, but I sense it. A woman as free spirited as you…still young, you are planning to make a break for it aren’t you.
A- Well, as a matter of fact, I have been planning…oh stop! I do not want to talk to you about this, I don’t really even know you.
S-Yes you do, you know me better than you know your husband…now, don’t you?
Aileen had to stop and think for a minute, this guy had a point, she had spent hours talking to him over the last few months. He knew her taste in books, television shows and movies and she knew his. Gary had no idea what she liked.
A- Well, I suppose you are right. Yes, I am planning a divorce. As soon as I have enough money to hire an attorney.
Minutes passed.

S- Can I ask you a question? It may sound strange coming from a guy who just asked you to come spend a weekend with me but have you told him how you feel?
Aileen waited and thought how to phrase her answer.

A- No, not really, we don’t talk about anything. All he ever says is “I’m out of socks, or I’m playing golf with Glenn on Saturday”. I don’t get much more.
S- Do you have any love left for him?
A-I don’t know, I mean I don’t want anything bad to happen to him but we just don’t have anything between us. I feel nothing….just indifferent.
S-I think you should face him. Give him a chance maybe.
A- A chance to what? We have been together forever. He has had plenty of chances.
S-Well, I just had to ask. You can‘t fault a guy for trying to help.
S- Hey, what’s you favorite food?
A- Italian
S-I hadn’t asked you that one…

Aileen didn't feel like talking about her favorite food. She was a bit irritated at Stephen for pressing her to talk about Gary. She had not even told him about the event tonight or the mayor recognizing her. She didn't feel like bragging anyway.
Aileen answered but felt deflated.
A-It’s Italian, of course we don’t have a good Italian restaurant here. My favorite downtown is a little place called Dori’s, they serve really good lasagna…but they aren’t Italian.
S-That’s funny. I like lasagna too.
A-Why’s that funny?
S- I don’t know. We just have not usually liked the same things.
A-Do we seem like opposites to you?
S-Maybe, but a lot alike to.
A-How so?
S-Both want love but can’t figure out how to find it.
A-I think I hear Gary closing up his shop, gotta go.
S-Good night.
Aileen was feeling uncomfortable about the turn their conversation had taken.
She had not really heard Gary. She thought for a long time about what Stephen said. She knew this person online so much better than she knew her husband. And he knew her. It would be so nice to have easy conversation with someone. She wished she had that with a real person not just a fuzzy picture on a screen. Did she owe Gary another shot? She just did not see how after all this time anything could change.
When Gary finally came in from his shop Aileen was sitting on the couch in the dark.
“What? No laptop tonight?” Gary sounded slightly annoyed.
“No, just got off.”
"Did you enjoy tonight?” Aileen could not believe she was hearing Gary’s voice.
“Yes, it was special…Did you mind going, I mean did you like being there?”
Gary stood there in the dark for a moment.
“I didn’t mind, you know that kind of thing is not me but I was glad for you.”
With that he turned and headed for bed.
Aileen called out, “Thanks for going.” Gary didn't respond this time, typical.
For at least two months Aileen had been sleeping in Abby’s old room. She claimed Gary’s snoring kept her awake. He didn't question it since he had a history of this, and Aileen had a history of sleeping on the couch or in one of the kid’s beds, when they were little anyway. She had always been the one who got up with them during the night, watched them when they were sick, she was a light sleeper and could not stand the thought of her children needing her. Gary was oblivious to all of it.
This night was no different. Aileen tried to get Stephen’s questions out of her mind but could not. She wondered if Gary felt the same way she did. He never complained about his life with her but he sure never gave out compliments either. She wondered how she would tell him it was over, how he would respond. She didn't look forward to splitting up years of dishes and towels. She figured Gary would either just get really angry and tell her to leave or he would walk out himself. She didn't expect much in the way of argument. Why would they start now? They had never fought. She was not the confrontational type and he certainly was not. They were a lot alike in that area. She was definitely the more adventurous of the two. She wondered about Stephen. Was he the type who argued with his ex-wife? How had their marriage ended? She might just get up the nerve to ask those personal questions. Maybe he had some insight.

Monday at work Joan came over to Aileen’s desk as she did every morning and gave her a hug. She had to tell her she thought Gary was a handsome gentleman. Aileen thanked her but she was not sure why. Maybe it was because he was after all her husband of twenty five years. She did have something to do with how he looked at least the clothing part. This made her wonder what he would have been like if he had spent that much time with someone else. She had spent many hours pondering what she would have been like with someone else but never how Gary might have been different without her. She had to ask Joan what it was that made her say that. Joan’s response surprised her.
“Aileen, a wife’s roll in her husband’s life is far more than washing his clothes and cooking his meals. Any housekeeper or maid service can do that. The job of a wife is far more important than those things. God gave us instructions in the beginning. We are to be our husband’s helper. I don’t see that as just ’helping’ him have enough to eat or a clean bed to sleep in. Our responsibility is to help him discover who he is. To be a mirror for him to look into and tell him the truth, only tempered with love.
If he is good at something, it is likely his wife who sees this. She should encourage his gifts and abilities. Sometimes it's necessary to tell him hard things he may not want to hear but it is better coming from the one who knows him best. I really believe that is what God meant when he said we are his helper…not to just meet his ‘needs’ in a physical sense but meet his needs in an emotional sense.”

Aileen could not believe how wise Joan was. This was the first time she had ever heard this concept. She was always taught by men in church that a wife’s roll was to be the helper but the definition of this word always came around to being his doormat. She wanted no part in that. She had seen those “submissive” wives. She had even tried to be one at first when she and Gary started out. But Gary was not bossy like those men. He just didn't respond either way. She took his behavior as an indication that she was doing an okay job and that was all Gary expected. Now she was hearing that maybe she was partly responsible for the way he was. She had never thought about helping him find his gifts and abilities. She had never complimented him on his woodwork or the way he kept the yard. She really had no idea what he liked or disliked about his job. She didn't even know if he ever thought of doing something different with his life. Aileen knew she had a lot to learn and Joan had the information she needed.

When Aileen got home that night Gary was heating up two pot pies in the oven. He gave a weak smile and told her he was hungry. Aileen felt a little guilty for staying at work late to finish up a project. She rummaged through the fridge to find something to make a salad. She wanted to tell him she was sorry for not being there sooner to take care of him but she figured the sooner he learned to do that on his own the better off he would be when she left or he left. She could not get Joan’s words out of her mind…”We are to be his ‘helper’….”
Aileen wondered where they had gone wrong. Maybe they just had been incompatible from the very beginning. She thought about their children. She would not have traded being their mother but she just didn't see anything else positive from the marriage. What had she missed with Gary? What gifting, abilities had she let him leave undiscovered? She watched him peek into the oven to see if the pot pies were ready. He was rather handsome. The graying around his temples was very distinctive. He looked like a wise man but the only time Aileen ever heard him speak was in their little Sunday School class and that was rare now. She had stopped going some time back. She could imagine the talk at their small Baptist church but she always had an excuse. Now that she was working she spent that time catching up on household tasks. Gary went to church alone. They rarely left the house together.
When dinner was ready they sat down and Gary said the blessing. This was as stale and routine as all the other things Aileen hated about her home life. They ate in near silence. Gary asked once if her pot pie was done, she responded that it was. They cleared the table and went their separate ways, he to his shop and she to her laptop.

A-Hi There, been on long?
S-No, just got here, you?
A-Just finished up dinner.
S-with the Bore?
A-Don’t call him that…I feel sorry for him now.
S- Whatever for?
A-Well, I think it is partly my fault he is like he is.
S-Haha how so?
A-Well, I think I should have asked more questions, tried to discover what his strengths were.
S-Hum, playing with junk?
A-You know I don’t even know what he does at work…I used to ask and he said it was not something that would interest me so I stopped asking.
S-Because it’s not….interesting!!! Hey post some more pictures of yourself…I only have this one and I need something more to dream about during the day.
A-I don’t have anymore that I can put on here…you only have one and it’s terrible!
S-Thanks for the compliment!
A-No, that’s not what I mean, you can’t even tell what you look like in yours…at least mine is a big smile, up close.
S-ok, I’ll work on it. How close are you to getting your finances in order for your break? I want to see you face to face.
A-I don’t know, I’m not able to take care of myself yet though so I am not ready to say anything.
S-Why don’t you use a little of the money for a vacation…like to see me?
A-You already know the answer to that.
S-Can’t blame me for….
A-I know, for trying. You try too much.
S-Well let me know when you think you are ready, I can’t wait to take you on the date of your life.
A-And that would be? Just humor me.
S-Dinner at a quiet little Italian place, a nice wine, a beautiful dessert….then, dancing! And conversation until who knows what else…
A- I have to say, that sounds very nice.
S-Has your husband EVER taken you on a date like that?
A-Not that I remember.
S-Shame
A-I probably would not have appreciated it if I had been with him.
S-Why?
A-Because, we would have sat there staring into space with nothing to talk about.
S-Has it always really been that bad.
A-Yes, I’m afraid it has.

Aileen thought about Stephen’s offer. She thought about what Jean had said too.

The next morning when Aileen got to work there was something noticeably wrong. Jean was not there. She had never been out sick while Aileen worked for the city. Mayor Carpenter was not in his office either. Chris came down the hall talking on his cell phone. He commented that he would take care of something and pass the word. When he dropped his phone on his desk he told Aileen that Joe, Jean’s husband had a heart attack the night before. He was in intensive care at the closest cardiac hospital forty miles away. The mayor had gone to be with the family, they were afraid he was not going to make it.

Joan talked about Joe all the time. Aileen felt so bad for them. She would have to go see her friend after work but for now she and Chris would be the skeleton crew that kept the mayor‘s office open. She fielded calls all day, talked to Joan twice and Mayor Carpenter several times. She felt connected, like family with the other members of the Mayor‘s team. As soon as they could get away she and Chris locked the office door and left for the hospital. Aileen wanted them there and they were happy to do what they could. Aileen left a message on her house phone because Gary didn't pick up. It was just as well. He might not understand if she had to talk to him. She just said Joan’s husband had a heart attack, she was going to check on him, she would be home late. Aileen was still not accustomed to her cell phone but times like these were what she had it for.
Gary didn't mind that she hadn't come home. When he got the message he said a quick prayer for Joe and Joan…he wondered what Aileen would do if this happened to him. He didn't like that picture.

When Aileen pulled up in the hospital parking lot she saw Mayor Carpenter and his wife walking out to their car. Chris rolled down his window and asked what Aileen was afraid to.
“Is he still alive?”
Mayor Carpenter smiled and said he was hanging on. He had an excellent team of cardiologists working with him. It looked like if he made it throught the first twenty-four hours his chances would improve. Aileen could not wait to get to Joan.
When she saw her other two work buddies Joan started to tear up again. She had tissue stuffed in the sleeve of her sweater. She hugged Aileen then Chris and thanked them for coming. She told them she had two hours to wait before she could go back to be with Joe again. She was positive and talked about God’s provision for them. Aileen had a hard time believing God was being kind in this situation. Joan obviously adored her husband and was in danger of losing him. Aileen was a stranger to hers and wouldn't be near as strong if something like this hit closer to home.
No one was allowed in to see Joe when the visiting hours permitted except immediate family. When the next hour approached she and Chris would leave. Joan walked them to the hospital entrance holding Aileen around the shoulders. She spoke in a soft voice.
“Aileen, how are things with you and Gary?”
Aileen didn't know what to say. Joan didn't give her a chance.
“You know I have been praying for you. I wanted to get an opportunity to tell you how I came to have the opinion on husbands and wives that I do. Things were not always good between Joe and me. When we were young we fought like tigers. I was headstrong and he was just plain stubborn. We had to find our common ground when I nearly lost him before. He was in an accident years ago. The doctors told me he hung on by a thread but would not let go until he got the chance to make things right between us. They said they’d never seen anything like it. Everyone thought he was a dead man. He managed to tell them to call me, then passed out and was in a coma for days. When he came to and saw that I was there with him he cried for the first time I had ever known of. He told me he was sorry for the things that he’d allowed to come between us and if he lived he would make life better for me.” Joan began to cry again. “Aileen, he has been just the sweetest blessing of my life since that time. I realized what I’d be losing if he died then. I know what I would lose now because he’s lived out that promise everyday for thirty two years. I had to change too. That is when I learned what it meant to help him. He needed to hear from me how precious he was. I try to always encourage and bring out the best in him now. Please Hun, go home to your Gary and make things right. You may never know the love you dream of if you let your marriage die.”

Aileen was shattered by Joan’s words. She had never thought about Gary changing that much. She didn't know if it were even possible. Chris broke the silence with a question. “Hey Aileen, you and your husband have been married a long time right?”
Aileen answered, “Yes Chris, twenty-five years.”
“Are you happy?” Chris didn't seem too interested really, Aileen thought he was just trying to make conversation.
“Why do you asked?
“Well, you know I’ve been dating Kaitlyn for about a year, I love her and all but I don’t want to make the same mistakes my parents made. They were married until I was about three then they divorced and I have never felt part of a real family since. My dad remarried and my mom was bitter most of the time. I felt caught in the middle a lot.”
Aileen hadn't heard Chris talk about his family before. She felt sorry for him. She wondered what her kids said about their parents’ relationship, or lack of.
Aileen heard Joan’s wisdom come out of her mouth.
“How do you and Kaitlyn communicate? I mean do you have an easy time talking about anything? Everything? Does she make you feel smart, or strong or important?”
Chris smiled, “Yeah, all those things.”
Aileen looked straight ahead. Chris continued. “Kaitlyn ‘s parents are divorced too. We don’t know what a healthy relationship looks like really. I just figure anyone who has been married as long as you and your husband must know something we don’t.”
Aileen thought to herself, she knew plenty but none of it would help Chris and Kaitlyn have a better relationship. Not yet anyway.

When Aileen’s SUV pulled into the driveway Gary was sitting on the porch. She walked up the path and sat down beside him.
“How is he?” was all Gary said.
Aileen burst into tears. Gary didn't quite know what to do. He thought Joe had surely died. Aileen finally spoke.
“He is going to be okay they think. Joan is afraid but she has very strong faith.”
Then Aileen said something that shocked Gary.
“I am so envious of her.”
Gary asked quietly, “Of who, Joan?” For a second he thought Aileen was envious because Joe was near death and he was sitting there as well as he could be.
“Gary, where did we go so far off course? Joan adores Joe. They have such a bond, why are we strangers?”
Gary was caught off guard. He didn't know what to say. Aileen was not surprised.
As hard as he tried he couldn't speak. Aileen took this as insensitivity. She got up to go inside. Gary grabbed her hand. He held it against his face. She could feel tears.
All he could say was “I’m sorry.” She sat back down and wrapped her arms around him. He pulled her close to him and held her tight for the first time in what seemed like years. They didn't say another word.

Aileen waited until the next evening to open the website. When she did she found that Stephen Barnes account had been deleted. There was a message from him in her mailbox. It said.
“Aileen, I am not the person you think. I know you will make the right choice about your future. Hope you get that great date someday and many more. My best to you, Stephen

Aileen decided she wanted to give Gary a chance. She didn't know him because she didn't ask him what he thought.. She never tried to discover his gifts and abilities. He was hard to talk to but not impossible. He showed her he had feelings for her and for others the night she came home from the hospital. She felt embarrassed for all the silly talk she had shared with Stephen and was glad he put an end to it before something terrible happened. Joan was back at work and Joe was recovering nicely. Aileen was thankful for all the encouragement Joan had been to her. She had arranged for Gary to go over and help with some projects at Joan and Joe’s house. He really enjoyed helping them.

On Friday afternoon Aileen’s cell phone rang at work. It was Gary. He asked if she thought she might like to drive into the city for dinner. Aileen was surprised but happy to say yes. He told her he would pick her up at work at five.
When she walked out with Joan she couldn't believe her eyes. There was Gary, standing by his car dressed in his blue suit holding a bouquet of flowers. Joan grabbed her arm and said something about a prince.
Aileen didn't know what to say. Gary opened the door for her and smiled at Joan. She waved and yelled out , “Have a great time you two”
When Gary got in the driver’s seat he said.
“I have reservations at the best Italian restaurant I could find, online…of course, I’ve never been there but we’ll see.” Aileen looked puzzled. “We will check out their Lasagna and buy the best bottle of wine on the menu…then a beautiful dessert…after that maybe a walk somewhere…and after that who knows.”
Aileen froze. These were words straight from her computer, from Stephen…had Gary been reading her chats, no, that was impossible, she was very careful about deleting old chats and she knew he didn't know her password. How did he know what Stephen had said to her.
“Gary, is everything alright?” Aileen was a little worried.
“How did you know I would like to go on a date like this?”
Gary looked at her with sad eyes. He pulled the car onto the side of the road.
“Aileen, I know you like Apple Juice and I know you like comedies over action movies, I know what you like in your coffee and how you prefer your eggs.
I know the last book you read, the last time you had ice cream at lunch, the places you want to visit, and I know you are planning to divorce me.
Aileen was horrified.
“Gary, it was you?”
Gary lowered his head.
“I am so sorry I deceived you Aileen but I didn’t know how to reach you with my voice. I thought if I could get to know you online I would know what to say to you. I am not good at conversation, and I guess communication. But I don’t want to lose you over this.”
Aileen’s fear and hint of anger melted.
“I just made up a better me.”
Aileen smiled. “I hope you took notice that I didn’t like the way you talked about you.”
“I did, and I also noticed that you were not willing to give up completely when offered something to run to.”
Aileen reached out and took Gary’s hand.
“Well, I was told by a very wise woman that a man needs his wife to help him discover his strengths and abilities. I think we have some work to do. Gary steered the car back on the highway, Aileen talked and asked questions the whole night. She learned all sorts of interesting things about her husband.
She changed her mind about his “boring” image. He was now a man of mystery. He got around to telling her about his job, his dreams and how he really felt about her. It was like a huge curtain opened and she saw her life on a giant screen.
Months later Chris and Kaitlyn slipped into Gary’s Sunday School Class. Aileen waved to them and Gary stopped his lesson to welcome and introduce the newlyweds. He offered this piece of advice.
“Life may not always be as exciting as it is right now for you, but let me challenge you to turn toward each other when you start to get bored, stay close through communication…send each other notes and always talk it out.
The opposite of love is not hate…..the thing that will kill a marriage is indifference…don’t let it creep in and steal your relationship.”
With that Gary winked at Aileen. She was so proud.

Baby Take A Bow

2011-05-25T20:57:00.003-05:00

Ms Murphy called him the Jim Carey of first grade. He was quite the performer, always trying to make the other kids laugh. He had a rather advanced sense of humor. He was good at entertaining and loved being the center of attention. There was that one mishap at the Christmas program, but we won’t go there now, too painful to admit he cried on stage. He was after all, just a kid.

He took to school like a duck on a pond, his second grade teacher, Ms Hunter was obviously fond of him (and the feeling was certainly mutual). He formed friendships in those early days that have remained until now. Fred, Archie, Jim, Alex and Blake were friends from school, church or soccer.

It seems like yesterday he was in Mrs. Tickal’s third grade. He discovered his love for the written word under her fun adventurous influence. He read like a champ and wanted to be Indiana Jones.

The rest of elementary school is a blur to me now. I do recall a teacher telling me his disposition on any given morning set the mood for the entire class. I think that is referred to as charisma. We knew he had it but didn’t realize others recognized it in him as well. He was our clown at home, always causing uproars at the dinner table with his little brother.

Middle school was tough. He was an adventurer and that sometimes got him in trouble. It was an adventure just keeping up with what he would try next. He became a skateboarder, a tough guy, a mystery to me. All I knew to do was pray.

Thankfully, he discovered his place early in high school. His freshman year he auditioned for “Guys and Dolls” and got a pretty substantial part for a “novice”. His sophomore year he took his best classical monologue (from Shakespeare) to state theatre competition and won first place (and followed that up the next two years). He played Marius in Les Miserables that year and made me cry seven times in a row.

The stage was his escape, his sport and his passion. He amazed his family with every roll, from Tartuffe to Dodger, Marius to Sweeney Todd. I remember the first time I heard him sing on stage. I could not believe Revel Gholston pulled that voice out of my kid.

Today he will graduate from Opelika High School along with his friends from the early days. He will not be attending college this fall. He has chosen to go to Uganda to help build an orphanage and work with street kids. He has been preparing for this “part” his whole life. He leads by entertaining and loving others. The world is his stage.

Congratulations class of 2011, I am proud of you Matthan Brown. I love you more than words can say. Our house will be far too quiet and we will miss you terribly but you have a job to do.

Go change the world.

.

Apologies and Southern Novels

2011-05-16T17:44:00.016-05:00

I have to apologize for my mistake last week. I knew the tornados that caused so much destruction across our state happened on April 27. I do not know why I said they were on May 4. I am not good with dates or names or geography. Throw in numbers and I am done for.
Maybe the number 27 was what got me. On May 27th Opelika High School will have it's commencement ceremony. You have heard already that one of my own will be among the several hundred in black and red. Perhaps the thought of that was at the back of my mind and I did not think two world changing events would happen on the same calendar number. It is more likely that I was not thinking at all. Sometimes it hurts my head. My apologies for the mistake.

I have toyed with the idea of writing a book. Call me Pollyanna but I think I may have a good novel in me somewhere.I have been pecking at one.It has a pretty good start, I really like my characters but after about sixty pages I am stuck. It would probably help to take a class or go to a workshop.
Like most Southerners, I have an admiration for Harper Lee. I have wanted to meet her for years but everyone says she's a tough cookie and doesn't do interviews. I suppose I could tell her I am not much of an interviewer myself so maybe we could just sit on her porch and talk, no questions about "THE BOOK" at all. I think I could do that, maybe...no, I couldn't. She would hate me for sure.
I actually wrote her a letter. It was cheery and personal...in a non personal, completely nonintrusive kind of way. I never mailed it. Yes I'm a chicken. I tend to be non confrontational and really hate rejection.
I thought about just going down to Maycomb, I mean Monroeville and stalking her, but I am certain it's already been done and I'm also certain she packs heat and has 911 on speed dial. I would be shot in no time.HLN and CNN would be all over it. The crawler would read, "Opinions Columnist Shot For Trespassing/Stalking/Asking Too Many Questions" or "Famous Novelist Shoots Deranged Columnist Hiding In The Hydrangeas"....they would interview my husband who would tell them he warned me not to go bother her. My sons would add that I should have ducked, but the good part would be my name and Harper Lee's in the same story! I am pathetic, I know. But, I may have just stumbled on the premise for my first best seller! "To Kill a Columnist"

Old Dogs and Children~

2011-04-26T15:00:00.009-05:00

We had a dog for sixteen years. She was so pitiful at the end of her life, it was painful to watch. One day recently she slipped into a nap on the back porch and woke up running after birds in Doggy Heaven (which I am sure exists, please do not tell me any different). My nineteen year old son was the one who called me to tell me she had passed. He was so mature. He did not let me hear his voice break but he said what he had to in short phrases.
"Lucy's gone... Do you want me to bury her"
I told him I would let his daddy know and to wait for him. We had been expecting it. She had not moved for hours and during the night both the boys spent time with her, just sitting, maybe talking but showing their gratitude for a life will spent.
We originally got Lucy to be a companion for the boys. They were three and one at the time. We had water on our property and I thought a dog would watch for snakes and perhaps keep the boys out of trouble. Little did I know our Brittney Spaniel mix loved water, feared snakes and was as clumsy and mischievous as any boy ever thought of being. She did prove to be adventuresome and lived to follow the boys everywhere, often on long hikes in the woods.
The second day we had her I let the oldest walk out in the yard with her. In a minute there was a knock on the front door, when I opened it there he stood holding a sopping wet puppy. Apparently, he had fished her out of the pond.
"The puppy fell in Mommy" was all he said. I was of course mortified I had turned my back for one minute and the delightful little fur ball led my baby TO the water instead of away from it.
The reality of her death hit when I got home, and I saw that same little boy digging a grave behind the play yard. He seemed grown up, so capable of doing the necessary hard stuff required of an adult. He had wrapped her in a blanket so I would not have to see her. Ah, the beauty of a sensitive man.
Shortly, his daddy and brother came home from school. I asked my sweet husband what he told them in the office. He replied, "Told em, just told em my dog died". I heard the same short phrased voice coming from his mouth as his older son.
The three of them finished the grave and gently laid our beloved pet to rest. A piece of slate was driven into the ground with "R. I. P. Lucy" tapped into it. I watched as my men dusted off their hands, father and sons, so much alike in appearance, in speech and in disposition.
Neither of my sons remember life without Lucy. She grew up with them. Her death was an event that will be written in the story of our family, so will the leaving of the next child for college or to find his place in this world. The passing of time is so often bittersweet. We want our children to stand on their own two feet but the joy they have brought us is hard to part with. I believe it was fitting for Lucy to pass before we had to let that first boy go.
She did her job, she helped us raise them, she was a companion, explorer and friend.

Lissy Lou

2011-04-19T09:00:00.002-05:00

At first sight, Lissy was a little ragamuffin. She had been loved by another foster family for a few months and seemed to be making progress. At twenty months old she could say a few words but mostly chose not to. She stared with chocolate colored eyes and seemed to be almost vacant of personality. The youngest of her sibling group, her needs paled in comparison to the older, more emotionally needy. There were five other children.
I first met her at the daycare she attended. She and her sister were called to the lobby by their caseworker. I just wanted a peek at them, the decision had already been made to bring them into our home. When I saw them I was even more convinced they were my babies.
It was obvious Lissy had not been walking long. She was the most bow-legged little thing I had ever seen. She had light brown hair, wild and unruly. There was a hardness in her eyes that I knew had come from necessity. All foster children have it. It is the look of "I know you might hurt me, I know I may not stay with you for long, I have already been tossed around, no big deal if you do it too."
The days and weeks that followed were unbelievably difficult. We had what seemed like endless paperwork, phone calls, hoops to jump through. We had so many obstacles that if I had not known I was called by God to go through this, I may have pulled the plug.
But, on January 3, 2007 Lissy came home to live with us. She was quiet and pensive, she had no security blanket, no bottle or pacifier. She did not cry, until bedtime. We tried to make her crib comfortable and safe but she would have no part of it. I tried to rock her. She would fall asleep but when I put her down she would scream within two minutes. I ended up sleeping a few minutes at a time with her on the couch. She would be comforted only while being patted. After three nights I took her to the doctor. We were both near the end of ourselves. Of course, she had a ear infections, yes BOTH ears. I could not believe a seasoned mother as myself did not figure this out before three horrible sleepless nights had gone by. After a round of antibiotics she was fine, slept like a rock from then on.
We chronicled her progress in pictures. One of my adult daughters pointed out when Lissy started to smile. It took some time but gradually she started grinning more and more for the camera. By two and a half she was a ham.
Being a foster parent has not been easy. In fact, sometimes it is like torture you inflict on yourself. Foster parents get a bad rap from the media, everything from Law and Order to Oprah has featured situations where foster parents were no heroes, but overall I believe we do it for the right reasons.
We adopted Lissy and two of her sisters last year. She is six years old. As I write this Lissy has come to me several times asking me questions, pointing out her "sight words" on the computer screen, and wanting me to put her pretty brown hair in pigtails. She is sick today, one of the few times she has been sick since that first week. She has changed so much. She is rarely quiet, she has a ready smile and charms us all. She has asked that I play with her when I'm finished "working". She is bouncing her new kick ball in the kitchen patiently waiting.
This day is worth all the hard stuff we have gone through.
If you have ever considered becoming a foster parent call the Department of Human Resources today. Your Lissy is waiting.

Lovely Weather We've Been Having

2011-02-20T15:32:00.000-06:00

Ah, Spring.....but, wait....it's still February! Surely this is not some kind of a joke, these 70+ temperatures we've had for the past week. I cleaned out a flower bed and saw tiny green plants actually peeping up out of the dirt. It's so exciting to think warm weather may be here to stay. We live in the deep South. You just never can tell about the seasons. Sometimes we start out with ice on our car windows and by the time school ends in the afternoon short sleeves are required. Seasons, we have them, sometimes we have ALL of them in a twenty-four hour period.
My Daddy used to say, "Never plant your vegetable garden before Good Friday"...He was right! I have tried it before and have been sad when my little tender plants got nipped by a late frost, but Daddy! This year it falls the end of April! That is so late! I won't have tomatoes until AUGUST! I suppose I will need to go ahead a plant some things in indoor containers and wait it out.
This warm spell sure does make me want to get out and do some stuff though. Our play yard is in desperate need of attention. I really want it to be pretty with lots of little areas of flowers and shrubs.
I want to be a good gardener, but I am not really very skilled. And I am forever hunting my tools, thanks to my three little girls and the constant temptation of the creek. When I can find a shovel or rake it's usually covered in mud or hiding in the butterfly bushes.
The winters are not so harsh here in Alabama but the sun is. I have had little wooden plaques and cutouts on trees and they fade and fall apart after a few months in the weather, metal is the best choice to hold up especially if you don't mind rust. I am collecting metal flowers to paint (and repaint) so that I'm guaranteed color and "blooms" all Spring and Summer.
I bought a trellis and attached it between two trees, I was hoping to make Smilax grow on it and hold it in place. So far it's holding up okay but the actual trellis is formed from vine and it's starting to look dry and weak. I might have to resort to rounded iron rebar. Smilax is tough stuff, like Kudzu...but thankfully not quite as agressive.
We have fought the Kudzu enough. When the play yard was first built it was the predominate plant on the property. It still wants to be, some of it's roots are about the size of my wrist. We dig and cut and poison and dig again. I have heard and believe it's true that Kudzu grows a foot a day. It is that fearce. If I could grow roses or even Confederate Jasmine like I can grow Kudzu I'd have something to see. Unfortunately my Jasmine died last year and the only roses that have survived my pitiful soil have been the wild variety. They have taken over everywhere. Good thing I like them.
I suppose I could go on out and take a look at my little water feature. I would really like a waterfall running the width of my yard but I've settled for a foot tub size "pond" with my little gardian angel fountain. She stands guard over the play yard, and the girls, and the cats....and my missing tools, welcoming gardening season!

Couponia

2011-02-11T19:02:00.001-06:00

What is it about reality television that attracts us the way a light bulb on a summer porch attracts mosquitoes? I am not one who enjoys the suffering of others, by nature I guide the remote to the home and garden networks but last week I was drawn to a reality show called “Strange Addictions”. I soon got into a facebook conversation with some friends about the show.

One lady had an addiction to powdered cleaners…”Comet” was her drug of choice. I couldn’t imagine anything less appealing than eating a cleaner right there in front of her freshly scrubbed sink but she did it. One of my facebook friends quipped, “It was all fun and games until she had to have all her teeth pulled due to the rotting away of tooth enamel by harsh detergent”. What would possess a person to do this? I was not adequately grossed out yet

The next lady ate TOILET PAPER!!! Yes sir! Up to a roll a day! I started to get nauseous. The next lady took the cake for sure, she ate….are you ready for this? Couch cushions!!! Now, I want to know what would make her TASTE a couch cushion in the first place. I vacuum them occasionally and there has never been anything I’ve even found in mine I’d like to pop in my mouth much less taste the cushion itself., but there she was pulling pieces off and swallowing as if they were cotton candy (now cotton candy…that’s an addiction I could wrap my brain around). What is wrong with these people?!!

Finally, they came to a somewhat sane person. A coupon addict. Now, I liked her. She was not really an addict but thankfully they included her because I was going to have to move on to some other channel. Although she did exhibit some addictive tendencies, she was at least doing something constructive! She saved tons of money at every grocery visit. I got excited about this.

My friend Ellen is a coupon queen. She is a retired teacher and is just really good at finding bargains. She has another friend, Lynn who spurs her on. They two of them can be seen on any given day going to particular grocery stores for super deals. My cereal cabinet has been completely stocked on numerous occasions due to Ellen’s skills and a buck or two. Ellen also keeps us stocked with toothpaste, deodorant, body wash, shampoo and such. She is a giver by nature. This is what separates the smart girls from the addicts. The addicts hoard their stuff, the people doing this for the fun of it, share. That’s my theory anyway. One of the people I saw featured on the show provided food for his church’s food closet. That would be the addiction to have. I can see him now, showing up at church with a truck load of non perishables banging on the door, begging them to open up after hours because he has to have his “give fix“. He is able to do this by collecting coupons and using them at stores that double and have sales running simultaneously.

I have another friend Candi, who makes a business out of bargain shopping for others. She saves people incredible amounts of money and makes a little for herself in the process. She knows the “ropes” too.

I am learning what I can from Ellen. I would really like to get good at this game, stock a few pantries, have my menu planned a month in advance. Who knows, I may even be featured on a reality program someday.

Help for the Clueless

2011-02-09T08:23:00.001-06:00

I put out a request on facebook for help with my blog. I know I haven't changed it since this summer when Colin M. helped me put this flower on and then Micah rearranged some things.
To be honest, I am clueless when it comes to blogging. I feel so dumb.
I love writing and communicating with people and would very much like to have a blog people visit regularly but my ineptness holds me back.
Well, enter Sydney Nichols. As a self-professed geek, she has graciously agreed to sit down with me and show me how to manage, change, post pictures and otherwise make my blog more interesting.
Thank God for her!!!
So, on Friday I will go to "Sydney School" hopefully something fun is in the works!

As the Dryer Turns

2010-12-31T17:23:00.002-06:00

As we begin the next decade of the twenty-first century I wonder what is in store. As I sit at the desk in my office, which roughly translates, my laptop on my kitchen table, it is almost like I can hear the future calling to me. Actually, what I hear is the clothes dryer in the laundry room making a horrific noise. It has been squeaking for weeks, I suppose it is a machine's way of telling me an appliance purchase is in my near future. I have to face the facts. I have done many a load of laundry in that washer and dryer.
I had the first set, a gift from my parents when we had the first baby, for twenty years. They don't make them like they used to. I have barely gotten seven years out of this set, but with the addition of six more kids the shear volume of clothing going through the pair is astronomical. I have used them almost daily. If I go for more than two days I can't wade my way to them to load. I have heard women refer to the "mountain" of laundry they have to do. I wonder, are they kidding? I certainly am not.
We have a window in our small laundry room. If you can see out of it, I have been home to wash clothes lately. If it is dark and creepy it is because the children in this household have changed clothes at a normal rate but Mama has been busy, or preoccupied, or busy being preoccupied with something fun or terribly taxing. Either way, the laundry suffers when I can't get to it.
I have tried several different methods to tame this madness. I have put names on laundry baskets for each member of the family in hopes he or she would take the initiative to put away the contents when I filled it. I think the last of those baskets left in the back of the old suburban recently on it's way to the thrift store filled with odds and ends left from a yard sale. I have tried various charts and job lists, shelves and cubbies, at one point I took to hanging everything up but the underwear kept falling off the hangers and to be honest was kind of ridiculous looking.
I feel like I have tried everything, nothing has worked. The laundry still piles up and I am left with it. We have a whole basket of mismatched socks! These are not waiting to be sorted and folded...they are waiting for their mates to return from outer space! My theory is, once a pair of socks has been successfully worn a time or two one of them somehow ends up in circling Saturn, it is the great mystery solved....those rings around the planet are not some kind of gas, they are mismatched socks! Thousands of which have come directly from my house.
I have raised or am in the process of raising seven children in this house. That is fourteen feet at a time, factor in mine and hubby's and you have eighteen socks a day. I'm not a mathematician but multiply the number of socks by the days in a year and...I rest my case.
What can I say, I am tired, so is the dryer. We sound frighteningly similar on cold mornings. I bet right after I get my last kid off to college someone will come up with disposable clothing or socks that stick together when the going gets tough. I hope my old dryer and I hold up that long.

2010-12-31T17:18:00.000-06:00

I am ending this year on an up note. A few weeks ago I wrote about watching the death of a marriage. I was helpless, I knew it, but...I was certain of someone who was not.
Just as certain despair was setting in, a light cut through the clouds. The story is not mine to share but I can give you my perspective. I prayed day and night for the young husband and his wife, even though I didn't know her very well. Some other people were praying too. We prayed the Lord would intervene and give us a miracle.
I am devout romantic. I happen to believe God is too. I asked for whatever it took to get the two talking again, He provided the particulars. I am so happy for them. As I click through pictures of Christmas on Facebook I see their smiling faces and thank God for not giving up on people.
Happy New Year Everybody!

2010-12-15T21:18:00.000-06:00

My favorite Christmas movie is “It’s a Wonderful Life”. My family does not “get it”, they have even resorted to hiding my copy from time to time so I won’t give them the poor puppy dog face when they refuse to watch it with me….yet again. They have actually all sat silently letting me fume about not being able to find it. It is sad. I wish they shared my love for George and Mary and Zuzu and Tommy, but they do not.
I understand the movie was a flop at the box office. It was a difficult time in history, maybe it hit too close to home. I imagine many men gave up the opportunity to go to college or see the world to allow their families better lives. George Bailey represents a generation of givers. I guess that is what makes the movie so dear to me. George is not in the world’s standard a wealthy man. Mr. Potter is the successful businessperson. George has to deal with the messiness of a family business, employees who bumble bank deposits (also family), investments that are not exactly solid, but more the shifty ground humanity stands on.
George sees worth in lives. His idea of value is a sound home where a mama, daddy, and children live. His proof of respect is keeping a secret that could ruin a man. His loyalty to his family is his willingness to jump off a bridge to keep them from financial ruin.
What George lacks in business sense he makes up for in brotherly love. The Bible tell us the greatest commandment is “Love God with all your heart’….and Jesus says…”love your neighbor as yourself”. I believe this is the heart of “It’s a Wonderful Life”. You hear in the very beginning all the friends and family praying for George, he is missing now and people are worried. He has no clue they all care enough to pray fervently for him. It is not because George is an important man; it is more because he is a man who loves people. This makes his life so much richer than the wealth Mr. Potter holds.
I think what I really love about the movie is more what George learns about himself. He has not wanted to gain anything by his sacrifices and at times he really wants to just give up and leave it all behind him but he cannot because it is his nature to give, to protect, to shoulder the responsibility. He learns that his life means something to others because he has chosen to love by doing the right thing.
How often do we get the opportunity to choose to do something because it is the right thing?
This past weekend I lost my cell phone. I had not noticed. I came out of a store and a young man and woman were sitting near my parking space in a truck. The man asked if I had lost a cell phone. He explained he nearly ran over it but noticed it just in time. The two of them saw a picture of my grandson on my phone and when we came out recognized me because he was with me! I was so touched. The woman even scrolled through to see if she knew anyone on my contact list…, which she did! She actually tried to call a mutual friend to ask her whose phone she had so she could possibly find me that way.
They could have left the phone in the parking lot. They could have brought it in and let it be someone else’s responsibility. They chose to do the right thing. They waited for me until I came out of the store and handed me my phone. I hope they felt good about themselves as I praised them for their kind deed. There are still George Baileys in this world.
So, during this Christmas season remember to be a giver. It does not have to be wrapped with pretty paper and a bow, kindness and love are one size fits all. And, it really is a wonderful life.

Busy Times

2010-12-15T21:15:00.000-06:00

I have been so busy....How many times a day do you hear that? Everybody seems to have way too much on their plates. I feel crazy EVERY DAY. I wake up before I want to, get a shower, try to pull myself together, get three little girls ready for school, yell up at two teenagers to get out of bed (way before they want to), remind people to get backpacks, coats, to brush teeth, drink their milk, I'm sure I sound like BLAH,BLAH,BLAH to them.
Now, it's Christmas...they only have two days of school left! TWO DAYS! Then the work really begins. I have to get some stuff done.
I'm going to post some stories I've had in the Opelika Observer the last month or so. I only get two a month now, not that I have much more time than that.

From where I stand~

2010-10-25T22:00:00.002-05:00

I am witnessing something profoundly sad. The death of a very young marriage.
I am only seeing it from the point of view of the now ex-husband. I don’t know that I’ve ever been at this vantage point before. It is gut wrenching.
I don’t like to say a union is doomed from the start but I’m afraid this one may have been….which isn’t to say it couldn’t have been saved! I believe in communication! I believe anything is possible! I believe this one was dead in the water a while ago but the young husband didn’t want to give up.
Apparently, the young wife did.
I watch him pace, drink coffee, rub his eyes, try to laugh and get through it….it is not pretty.
He is where the road divides in many directions.
He doesn’t know which one to take.
He isn’t celebrating freedom, he is mourning the loss of yet another sure thing
He is not a quitter, it seems life keeps quitting on him.
He is embarrassed and ashamed.

I have no words.
I can’t tell him I know how it feels.
I can’t tell him it is for the best. I don’t know either of those things.
I want him to know he will love again, and be loved in return.
He says he doesn’t think he’ll ever try it again…this marriage thing.
Our conversation is interrupted.
Unfortunately for him, we have to talk to giggly young women planning weddings sometimes.
She turns her head and he mouths “don’t do it!”.
I have to smile but he knows I don’t agree. When she is out of earshot I tell him I can’t be negative about marriage. He reminds me that mine has remained intact for almost thirty years.
He is right about that.
I want to tell him he will find the right girl, I don’t know when or where but she is out there. It breaks my heart to see his face when he thinks no one is looking. There is such pain.
All I can do is pray.

Wisdom, Love and Grace

2010-10-24T15:57:00.000-05:00

For years I’ve prayed for wisdom and love. I have not asked for wealth, although I have asked to not drown in debt a few times. I have not even particularly begged for health, besides the few months I thought my back pain may have been from something that was going to kill me. I have prayed countless prayers for others; for my children, my friends, total strangers. I try not to have my own agenda where others are concerned other than whatever it is God is willing in their lives. I know better than trying to figure out what someone really needs and asking God to grant it like a fairy godmother might do. I mainly trust him with the details and just lift the people up in my mind and spirit. Sometimes I just don’t know what else to say.
I am so far from delivered from sin…it is my choice I know, but I sin everyday. If not with my MOUTH then with my mind. But, one prayer I believe God is continually answering for me is giving me love for others. I’m not saying I don’t get offended, or angry but he is helping me see people through more compassionate eyes. I think if he really did let me see people through his eyes my heart would break. There is so much pain. I know he wants to comfort us but we are like little children with splinter covered fingers who rather than let him gently lift them out, we turn away and yell “NO, this is my splinter!!! I will work it out or I will let it stay and get infected! I don’t trust you!” We see that the splinters need to come out but want them removed on our terms.
I believe sometimes we are reluctant to ask God to help us because we have strayed so far away from him. While it’s true he has not left US, we get the feeling he is up there in Heaven brooding over all our mess ups. I believe it’s more like this. Trouble comes to us all. God is there. Why not ask for help. It’s not like he’s making a deal with us. We can’t really say “Just help me out here Lord and I promise I’ll never ____again (you fill in the blank). I know many people have done this but I believe when we slip up and go back to the ___we mentioned it is US who pull away from God again.
I have finally learned the truth about my effort and his rewards.
I can’t do anything to deserve his love.
I can’t do anything to make him love me more.
I can’t do anything to make him love me less.
I am certain most people do not understand this concept.
You can say, “But, I was raised to believe God loves the people who go to church, give to missionaries and read their Bibles!” OK, let’s assume that is true. If God only pours his love out on the church going, missionary supporting, Bible thumpers we should all be striving to be JUST LIKE THEM!!! Because, hot dog they must be the most happy, blessed, healthy and wealthy people on the planet….and so few of them are! Instead, I often see church pew warmers who reluctantly write those tithe checks (and often want everyone to know how much they are for) and can quote all the scripture about the sins they don’t struggle with as the most unhappy, shallow people around. Seriously, show me one rule keeper and I’ll show you someone who probably does not understand what they are trying to get other people to participate in.
Here’s the real deal.
Jesus is the answer.
He is the epitome of God’s grace.
Let me give you an analogy (not original)
There was once a mother with two children. The first child was sweet and easy going and never gave her a minute of trouble. She did anything she could to please her mother out of the purest of hearts. She grew up kind and well liked by everyone. The second child was just the opposite! She was defiant and difficult from birth she bit and screamed and never shut up. There were time the mother wanted to just put her down and walk out of the house and sometimes she had to hand her over and do just that, but, the mother loved the hard to please child just as much as the easy to please one and one day, one very fine day, the second child came to herself. She started smiling. When she did everyone around her smiled too. She became pleasant and easy to please like her sister and the mother rejoiced…as did all the neighbors!
See, those two babies were both the mother’s children. She had to discipline them differently, she had to sometimes treat them differently but she loved them both the same amount.
I picture God looking at us with his infinite wisdom…he knows who is going to try every last thing before they come to him. He knows who is going to be compliant her whole life. He loves us all and really wants us all to love him too. He is surely disappointed with some of our choices but he is not surprised. I believe he holds out hope that sometimes he’ll be wrong about some of us and we will turn to him. I don’t say this out of any kind of disrespect of lack of faith, I know he is not going to be wrong but I have to believe he wants us all. The word does say…”For God so loved the world that he gave his only son that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have everlasting life.” Without getting into theology I can’t explain just let me say that to me “whosoever” means any of us who will.
We have to learn to accept grace. It is a gift. It’s kind of like accepting a compliment you know you don’t deserve. We can’t earn it and it’s hard to understand. It flies in the face of every human thought.
God understands us…he has not left us…he loves us and has big ideas for all our lives.
We are obligated to extend it to others.
Yes, we have an obligation to extend grace…to others.
I have never been so badly hurt by anyone I could not forgive. I sympathize with people who have lost children to tragedy or evil. I don’t know what that feels like and I pray God’s mercy to not let me know first hand. I understand those people feeling let down by God. But, if we could see from God’s vantage point it might be easier.
I have a friend whose young son died after years of health problems. She has grieved endlessly for over a year. She has not become angry at God because she knows she will see her son again someday. He was a wonderful example of God’s glory. He loved people and made no apologies as to who his savior was. My friend knows things could have been different if her son had been a rebellious teenager who argued with her and then went out and died in a car accident. The grief would be unbearable. As it is, she is still hurting but has the promise that her son’s short life was lived with purpose. Some of us get eighteen years, some of us get a hundred. How we use them is important. Accepting and giving out grace is a concept we have to learn. God gives us grace. We extend it to the next person.
This little story is an example-
This morning we left for school without Elle’s book bag. We looked for it for a few minutes but it's apparently hiding somewhere… again. Once, I found it in the laundry room, in a basket, under towels.
How does that happen? I have stated the fact I am not the mom with the perfect house or any real organization skills to speak of but one thing I have worked diligently to establish in this house is "The book bags go on a hook if you aren't doing your homework!" This way we ALWAYS know where they are! I have had the kids repeat this to me many times when I might have the occasion to run into a book bag in an inappropriate location...they don't get there by themselves....they don't walk or jump or decide for themselves where to "hang out". Somebody is responsible for them and nobody needs to bother anyone else's. We have the" take care of your own stuff" policy in our house....of course I am lax on socks and other articles of clothing that undoubtedly end up in front of the TV, but as a mom that kind of just comes with the territory.
But, today Elle is at school without her book bag.
In the car I was on my usual rant about taking responsibility for yourself and your stuff, how Mama can't think for 7 people, how I have enough to do without having to keep up with Elle’s book bag, blah, blah, blah....
I'm sure it was somewhere around then that Elle floated out the window. A beautiful thing about having ADD; you can just check out whenever you want (and unfortunately sometimes when you DON'T WANT) to a place where the "bluebirds fly" (gee, no wonder I identified with Dorothy as a child!) I could see her in the rear view mirror. She was sitting right behind me smiling. I was a taken off guard a little...."Young lady do you hear me talking to you?!" She continued to smile and replied, without even hearing my question (or anything else I had been saying)
"Mom, do I get ice cream money?"
It's Friday, ice cream day at school. I usually give the girls their two quarters on the way and try to muster up a positive comment of some sort to end their week. I replied "Yes Elle, you get your ice cream money...It was at that point I knew she would face the natural consequences for not having her book bag. I didn't need to keep on reminding her that she had messed up. The world is plenty good at telling us we don't measure up, aren't good enough, won't ever amount to anything...that is NOT my job! I asked her if she remembered what grace was all about...she did. She told me, "Grace is when you get something good even though you don't deserve it." I have to remember that myself. I am so much slower to dish it out than gather it in.
So, once again a teachable moment was shared, and I learned the lesson.
God doesn’t fuss at us when we forget where we put something. It is not his nature to condemn us at all. His grace is sufficient.
And his ice cream money is always there jingling in his pocket.

My Style

2010-10-24T15:16:00.003-05:00

I asked my children to describe my writing style. Perhaps I should have asked some total strangers who maybe stumbled across something by me on my blog or a friend’s Facebook page, my reactions were interesting, I guess. One said he didn’t realize I had a style, being sixteen and the subject of my little stories quite often, he is in denial that I write at all. Another one was pretending to be asleep so he didn’t have to give an opinion but he likes the written word and even with my blunders I think he approves of my work. The little ones who can read the paper love to see my picture but rarely get what I’m talking about, yeah, I know that’s hard to imagine. The best answer I got was “Well, you are not as funny as… maybe a stand up comedian, but you’re better than the obituaries.” I suppose I should be flattered and offer my honest respect for whoever it is who actually writes the obituaries but I thought about it for a few minutes and decided neither of those options are what I’m shooting for.
I make no claims as a writer’s writer. My stories are for readers who like the truth with a chuckle thrown in here and there. I am entertainment, on a good day; a nudge in the right direction, hopefully. I feel like I write to my friends whether I’ve met you yet or not. I am nothing special and I know it.
Sometimes funny things happen, sometimes I have to just laugh to keep from crying. I imagine the view of my life from above is a kaleidoscope of crazy, crazy colors, crazy people, and crazy events at an incredibly insane speed. I often tell young mothers who are struggling with day to day life with kids, work, school or whatever it is stretching them to their limits that it goes by in a blink. It is almost the truth.
Last weekend, I sat in my oldest daughter’s home in Virginia listening to her talk with her younger sister while we all watched THEIR children playing in the floor. For a second I had to remind myself who I was and what was happening. My grandchildren were crawling on the rug and taking toys from one another. It was surreal. I told them so. I can’t believe they are grown and have children of their own.
Last Christmas we had one little granddaughter. This year we have three grandchildren. If we continue to grow at this rate I will have to rent a circus tent to do Thanksgiving. The huge dining room of the famous Biltmore House in Asheville, NC has a table that seats 64. My second daughter saw it in a magazine and pointed it out to me. That’s what I’m picturing by the time all mine have families of their own. I hope I get a novel cranked out by then. I’ll need a best seller to feed them all.
I suppose it doesn’t matter what my writing style is, what matters, at least to me is being real, and getting it all down on paper because when I blink for the last time someone will have to write my obituary. I hope whoever it is will have something interesting to say and…
I hope it’s just a little bit funny.

Treehouse

2010-10-24T15:14:00.000-05:00

With the coming of fall I have a new fascination with the great outdoors, particularly the treehouse we have in our wonderful play yard.
In case anyone doesn't know how the treehouse came to live with us, here's the Reader's Digest version.
We were new foster parents, with young children. We didn't have a swing or slide or anything like that for little kids to play on. We voiced a need to our church, people came...cleared the area, cut down trees. I got a message from Joe Simpkins; builder extrodinare that he was willing to help. I drew a "rough sketch" and gave it to Joe. He had his crew work on the structures for days....built beyond our wildest dreams, another friend gave us money for supplies and swings and a slide. My cousin contributed sod, Joe came back and built a fence and tahdah!!! We have a great play yard and right in the middle over the creek is the treehouse. By design it's just a deck...way up in the air, with a tree growing through it. It is perfect and beautiful and a place I can still climb to (in my advanced age). Today I sat up here and talked to friends on Facebook...yep, not only can I see the world as I know it go by but I also have the world wide web at my fingertips. Life is pretty good right now.
I'm thinking about installing a pulley with a basket so I can bring things up without having to hold on to them as I climb...no need to tempt my clumsiness. If I had free time I think this place would become my office...I think I could finish my novel up here. No use complaining though, I have the same amount of hours in a day as the next person, just have to learn to make better use of it...I'm thinking a nap would be great about now.

2010-10-13T17:34:00.006-05:00

My two little ones brought home school pictures today...they were truly awful...I told them they were MUCH PRETTIER than the pictures showed, and they ARE!
We decided to get my camera out and take some shots of their true beauty.

2010-10-03T15:57:00.002-05:00

Ah, October 3rd and the weather is wonderful. I am sitting in a chair in the yard. My hands are kinda cold. It is a blessing to have just a tiny relief from the heat of this summer. I have mentioned before how I love fall. I am not a Halloween fan but I do love pumpkins and apples and dressing up. Last year Felicity announced that she was going to be a cupcake for Halloween. As any mom of such a cutie pie would do I got to work...I started Googling cupcake costumes and before I knew it was buying polar fleece and felt. I found some foam that was in a strip that looked a good bit like the cup part if the cupcake...it was even the right color! I attached the pink polar fleece and cut out flannel "sprinkles". I had to work with some ribbon to make suspenders to hold the cupcake to the kid but when all was adjusted it worked pretty well. I couldn't find any pictures of it although I'm sure we took some. We still have the costume if any little tike friends want to go as a cupcake this year. Lissy refused to let me chunk it.

few pages of my work of fiction

2010-09-19T21:51:00.001-05:00

If Bartley Copeland ever got in a tizzy about anything, nobody knew it. He was about the easiest man to get along with the world had seen since Jesus. He was friendly yet reserved, generous to a fault, he served on the school board, coached little league for years, held fund raisers for orphanages in Africa and gave to every cause known to man. He could not pass up the opportunity to contribute to any mission he ever heard of, he said it was personal. He took home strays, not animals, people. There was never any way of knowing who or how many would be eating at the Copeland‘s dinner table. His wife never said a word, she asked him once if he could give her a little notice, this was after he came home with his truck loaded with a bunch of church kids whose fifteen passenger van overheated on the interstate. They ate everything in the pantry that night, and what they didn‘t consume there was boxed up and sent with them to Mexico. Bartley loaded them back in his truck and took them to the auto shop to pick up their van. The young minister cried when Bartley paid the bill.

He was a man envied by men and admired by women. Everyone knew EmmaJean from way back too. She had not grown up in Opal Hills but something about it was born in her. She was probably as well liked as Bartley but for extremely different reasons. She was a never ending source of entertainment. The two of them were opposite in personality. No one ever accused her of being reserved. If she liked you it was obvious but if she loved you she might just knock you down with her enthusiasm. They may have been different from the start but they complimented each other like oil and vinegar.
Theirs was a marriage few understood but everyone wished they had.

This is their story~

He was a native to Opal Hills where the Copeland name was synonymous with big money. His great granddaddy invented some little part that proved valuable to NASA, they in turn bought the patent for a nice round sum. Granddaddy Copeland invested in plastics and the rest was history. The Copelands bought up the better part of an entire county and went about putting their wealth to work for them. Bartley didn’t enjoy hearing about his family history. He was something of a societal dropout in the sixties and felt the need to hitch-hike to California. His father sent the state troopers after him when they found out what he was attempting. They brought him back home and after a week of negotiations Jacob A. Copeland Jr, built his son a place he could call his own.
It was the nicest commune known to man.
He let Bartley “live off the land” in a collection of mobile homes, complete with redwood porches and the help of several hired caretakers. Bartley invited friends to come out and live on his communal farm in the middle of nowhere. It wasn’t California but it was close enough for Bartley. He painted peace signs on the barn and planted marijuana in the garden right next to the tomatoes. In all Bartley (or in reality, his dad) provided homes for twenty or more hippies in the couple of years he had his commune. But when Uncle Sam showed up at the Copeland’s big estate with a draft notice everyone else was given their walking papers. Jacob turned the commune into “Happy Acres Trailer Park”, an idea he had been throwing around anyway. There was nothing the Copeland money could do to prevent their youngest son from being shipped off to Vietnam. His mama cried and hoped her baby would come home alive, Jacob hoped he would come back a grown man. They both got their wishes.

When Bartley stepped off the plane in Atlanta on a balmy September afternoon there was an entourage to meet him. He smiled and looked embarrassed as he waved to his family and most of his hometown. He wondered if his daddy had given them all the day off and a day’s wages to come meet him. Of course he had, but Bartley’s safe return was cause for a holiday.
His brother Alan and his wife Cindy were there with their two girls. Jacob the third was there with his new girlfriend of the month. His younger sister , Maria brought a girlfriend from college. The little redhead caught his eye and for a minute he thought he knew her. Naturally, Willa Copeland was first to reach her baby and would not let him go. She cried and laughed and pulled a tissue out of her pocket then hugged him again, this continued with everyone around laughing along until she had to push him away to look at his face. She couldn’t help but notice he was different. He looked older, wiser, but sweeter at the same time. When he made his way to Maria he squeezed her tight and whispered, “I’ve missed you….who is the girl in the purple skirt?” Maria laughed and said, “She is YOUR match….you like her?” Bartley laughed, “Yeah, but do I know her?” Maria assured him he had never met anyone even close to that little fireball.

After the mob made it’s way back to Opal Hills there was a celebration in the park downtown. The women’s auxiliary held a picnic in honor of all the veterans of foreign wars with Bartley as the guest of honor. After a tour of duty in the jungles of Southeast Asia he was just glad to be anywhere. There was a time he thought he would never make it back to friendly soil. He was a changed person. He went away a spoiled boy and came home thankful to God for the privilege to live. He loved everything about his home. He closed his eyes and just breathed deep. He loved the smell of the hot pavement, the kudzu blooms behind the courthouse, the chicken frying at the Chick-n- Shack. He listened to the chatter and the music playing in the distance. He was the happiest man alive. He never wanted to leave Opal Hills again.
Maria and her friend pulled up in her new black Corvette. Bartley noticed the redhead again, this time with a warm smile. She smiled back and their eyes locked for just a second. EmmaJean looked away. Maria had changed into bellbottom jeans and a peasant top, EmmaJean still had on her purple skirt and a tie-dyed t-shirt with flip-flops from a discount store. It was clear this girl wore what she wanted, where she wanted. Bartley liked that. Maria introduced her friend to her brother. After she spoke her voice faded and she wandered down the street to where a snow cone stand was being set up. She turned expecting EmmaJean to be following her but just shook her head when she saw the two of them. I knew it, she thought. Those two were meant for each other.

“So EmmaJean, how’d you link up with the likes of my little sister?” Bartley tried not to stare.
“We are suitemates at school” EmmaJean did not want to talk about Maria.
“So, how’d she wrangle you into coming to this shindig?” EmmaJean wanted to tell him the truth, she had seen a picture of him with Maria and thought he was the most beautiful boy she had ever seen.
“Oh, she said there’d be barbeque and beer, I thought that sounded fun”. She tried not to look in his eyes. She was sure he would read her mind.
“Well, I’m glad she could offer something interesting for you to do for a couple of days.” There it was again, that smile he saw when he first noticed her. The wind lifted her cotton skirt and it floated up just a little. Bartley couldn’t help but notice her legs, she looked really athletic but was a tiny little thing. She smelled like Lavender. Bartley decided then and there he loved Lavender.

2010-08-28T19:39:00.000-05:00

Today was a mix of rain and sun. We only got out to get ice cream. The girls and I made collages out of magazines and poster board. It was pretty fun. Elle stayed at it for a long time. She cut out tiny little things. We made a mess but what's new about that? Tomorrow, I am going to attempt to make charm bracelets using crochet! We saw something like it while we were cutting out pictures and words from the magazines. I will try to post pictures later.

2010-08-27T18:32:00.000-05:00

I am in a mood....a bad one. I was accused of saying something that I did not mean....or maybe I should say I was accused of "implying" something I did not mean.
Why are humans so complicated?
I feel like Harper Lee has the right idea sometimes. It is hard to have your feelings out there, to have an outspoken personality, to root for the underdog and be misunderstood.
I feel that the person who insisted that I "implied" something was really the person in the wrong. I of course, being the known hot-head I feel that I should apologize...but, I was taken totally off guard and then snapped at in front of a bunch of other people. I think the person in question thought I was calling him a liar, when in fact I was not. By saying he was sure I implied what he thought I did he was calling me one.
Now, isn't that nice.
I don't know how to fix this...I supposed I could write it all down and mail it.
But, would it matter?
I am tired.
I have a headache.
If this person only knew I have defended him before to people who think he is smug or cold. I know these things are not true! I always tell people he's a great guy with a hard job.
Today, he misunderstood me.
I get what they are saying.
He certainly seemed smug,
he was RIGHT in his own eyes and defended someone neither of us really know.
I'm sure if he had done anything different we would have witnessed the whole universe spin out of control.
Anyway, I'm not in a very good mood.
I suppose I'll get over it.
I just don't like being told that I meant something I absolutely did not.
Brooding isn't much fun either.
I thought blogging might help.
It didn't....I'm going into seclusion.

For the record...this is not about my husband.

2010-08-22T19:49:00.000-05:00

Ok, I'm still kinda green when it comes to this blogging stuff. I posted a video and the photobucket image showed up again...bear with me. I am in the process of putting some new stories on here. I'm not too good at videos and pictures yet, but I sure like picnik.

SCHOOL!

2010-08-08T19:35:00.000-05:00

I am so happy to see school start. Don't get me wrong...I love my family but the thought of sending them ALL to school tomorrow makes me smile. I will be just as excited when they all get out for Thanksgiving and Christmas, Spring Break and Summer. It is simply a ritual. The beginning of something...getting into a routine, I find comfort in the thought of both. My problem usually begins when the wheels come off of the routine cart about a month into it. When I haven't got what we need for lunches and the homework is starting to be a little overwhelming...someone has lost her planner or papers or backpack. Someone else has decided she doesn't like school and refuses to admit she has homework. This is when the routine becomes un-fun.
We have an unusual situation this year. We have one child starting kindergarten and another graduating from high school. This beginning and ending is all part of life. Having seven children and now three grandchildren we are going to be celebrating graduations and first years for a long time. It is bittersweet, I am sad to see my older son look at life beyond this bird cage he has lived in for the last 18 years. He feels the cool metal of the cage door under his feet, I can already hear the lonely squeak when he leaves it open for his brother to fly out to join him just a year after. He will have stories to tell by then, of the great big sky and all that awaits them there. What will I do then? The routine will certainly change. We will still have much work to do; three more little girls.
With kindergarten comes a new beginning, it seems like yesterday I dropped the oldest off and assured myself I had done the right thing. She would be okay...which, she was. It gets easier to let them go I suppose. It is easier to be excited about this last little darling who thinks she rules the world. Our caseworker told us we were creating a monster with her because she is so socially intuitive. I hope her teacher has a heart of gold and nerves of steel. She will surely need both. She has grown so much. They all have. It is hard to believe I will be sixty-three when she graduates, twentyone years after her oldest sister. All this mothering has taught me a thing or two but I realize this is a journey to enjoy not to wish away. I can dread the future or relax and know that God is already there. It is his provision and sustainance that keeps me breathing. I can no more raise kids than make the sun shine. It is fruitless to say my daughters turned out well because of anything I did or didn't do. It is also not my effort that is shaping my boys into men. I just don't know how to do that...neither does their daddy who is a great man and shaper of people. It is the fact that we know God has them that gives us peace. It will be his voice in their ears and his hand on their backs when the going gets tough, and I suspect it will get tough. They will turn out to be good men because before they were born I asked God to just let me borrow them. It is all his business.
So as the bells ring tomorrow and everyone goes to his assigned seat I will pray, for the teachers, for the principals, the counselors, the lunchroom ladies, the aides and most especially for the children; my children and yours, who keep us going and keep us young.
Now, I have a few sandwiches to make.

2010-08-06T09:29:00.000-05:00

I don't know if everyone knows my fascination with Harper Lee. I realize she is a very private person. I totally get that she doesn't want to talk to the media and be bothered by crazies like myself but I would so love to meet her. I am not a stalker. I am a Southerner. I do have some manners.
My love for To Kill A Mockingbird began in high school. I had a couple of really good English teachers who encouraged me to write, they were at the same time encouraging me to read. Since both required sitting still I avoided them both diligently. I did, however watch the movie with Gregory Peck and that little girl who was the spitting image of ME at that age. I connected with the characters in the film on several levels. I had no siblings but had playmates much like Scout. My cousin Len was my Dill and his brother James was Jem. After a few years, our little Gina came along but was more a princess than an explorer. We had no lawyer daddies but ours did go to work and understood that good and bad people came in different colors. We grew up looking for trouble in the neighborhood. We were given pretty much free reign of our street as long as either my mama or their housekeeper could be heard at mealtime.
We were strictly forbidden from Mr Taunton's apple trees, our grandmother took naps after lunch and went to bed with the chickens so there were times when the east end of our street where she lived, was off limits due to our propensity to loudness. Airport road to the west was too busy, so we were not allowed to ride our bicycles up there until we were teenagers. Other than that the kingdom of Vernon Avenue was ours. This was my Maycomb, just a little neighborhood a few miles from downtown, too far to walk but easily accessible in my mama's Impala.
I was, like Scout, a thinking child. I wondered a great deal about people and things. I am sure I embarrassed my mother on more than one occasion by wondering out loud in front of others.
But, I mostly wondered to myself. I was told at an early age that I had a vivid imagination. I always thought this was a compliment. Now as the mother of children with this same gift I wonder if it is the beginning of trouble. It can be a curse in a child who has no moral compass. Imagination and lying are close in nature depending on the situation. I pray they know the difference. I think I did for the most part. I think I was honest in my imagination. I could discern when things were possible or not, sometimes causing myself to be viewed as a coward. This was something my boy cousins next door were never accused of. No tree was too tall, no bike trick was too scary, no bee was too much a threat...of course, I was inevitably the one who always got stung. We set fire to stuff, tied strings to lizards (well, I did not do that because I had an open fear of them at the time), pilfered though things we had no business in, had wars with rotten tomatoes and plums. Summers seemed endless, falls and winters were mild and filled with school and holidays. With no central air or heat our windows were open many months of the year. We would whistle or whisper from house to house after dark. Many times our mothers would be sitting in one of our kitchens and we could play outside until bath and bedtime. Our daddies talked occasionally. They were brothers but had less to talk about than our mothers.
My aunt worked in an office, she wore pretty clothes and heels everyday. She was considerably younger than my mother but seemed much more sophisticated. She smoked, I really did not like the way it smelled though and never had the desire to try it even though I thought she looked very cool. Back in that day you could get little candy cigarettes to look like a grown-up. No one thought anything about smoking, even Andy Griffith did it.
I mentioned Mr Taunton's apples. He was a quiet man. I never heard him speak really. My mother talked to Mrs Taunton often and she seemed to like the kids but Mr Taunton accused us all of stealing his apples one summer. I was no part of it and was very offended to have been included in the brood of thugs. My mother was mad too. She did not talk to Mr Taunton for a while after that. She knew if I ever did anything wrong my moral compass would give me up every time. This continued even into my teen years. I would tell her if i was going "yard rolling" or was skipping school to go to the next town over to shop with girlfriends. She never questioned my motives. It is a rare and precious gift, to be trusted. I was given that gift and learned to nurture it. I never had to lie about where I had been or who I had been with. My dad had his doubts but for the most part knew I was an honest kid.
We had characters in our neighborhood but to ever write my story I will have to create new ones. I would never want to hurt the people I grew up around. They were sweet hardworking folks. I talk to people occasionally who lived around me. I am hoping they will share memories that will help me write a book about growing up in the south in a neighborhood that was real. None of us had perfect families, none of us were perfect people. I remember the raised eyelids and whispered conversations when the first black family moved into the house across the street from us. We all learned so much from them. We cried and hugged when a job took them away from us. I lost touch with them a long time ago. They returned up north with experience to tell about their years in the south, in a white neighborhood. I would love to find them now.
I started this entry about Harper Lee. I still would love to meet her. If you have connections, consider getting me in touch with her, not as a crazed fan, just as someone who loves her story and has one or two of my own.

2010-08-01T23:00:00.000-05:00

This is my newest grandbaby, Norah...isn't she precious!! She was holding her Moppi. Will never get enough of these little angels.

2010-07-29T12:15:00.000-05:00

Norah Claire made her appearance at 4:57cst Monday July 25, weighing in at 7lbs 8oz and 21 inches long. Her mama(Hannnah) had a much easier delivery this time. She was a trooper, did not even have an epidural...didn't really need one and after it was all over she was glad she went natural.
I am in Virginia with them as I write this. I am so glad to have gotten the opportunity to be here shortly after Norah's arrival and to get the chance to know her.
I have had fun with Aidie. We have had a couple of real adventures. One on Tuesday when we set out to the hospital to visit the rest of her family. Please understand that I drove to their apartment after dark. I was tired and was not paying too much attention to anything more than the directions Michael S jotted down on a piece of scratch paper. I made it to the apartment fine but when we left the next morning I went the wrong direction toward West Virginia...It took me about ten miles to realize something was not right. I had absolutely no idea where I was so I consulted the trusty TomTom. It told me right away my location but that did not help since I am not familiar with any of the streets or little towns surrounding Blacksburg. I tried to type in the name of the hospital. It recognized the name and proceeded to take me to the nearest library. Perhaps I should have just gone in and asked directions. I typed in the name of the hospital again. This time it took me to within a mile of where I started, the apartment complex. I was about to get really frustrated...it was now lunch time. Aidie had been a complete angel in the car but was showing signs of distress. I figured we'd find her some chicken nuggets and milk and she'd perk back up. I started looking for golden arches or something, somewhere to get food fast. All I came up with was Hardee's....not my personal favorite for lunch (although you can't argue with their biscuits in the am. I whipped in and ordered. I pulled into a parking space, gave Aidie her lunch, refilled her milk cup and consulted TomTom again. He is an idiot!! He said the hospital I was looking for was .85 miles away. That was a lie and I knew it. I could practically throw a rock and bust out a window at the kids' apartment from there. I knew it had taken me about 20 minutes the night before to get home from the hospital. I finally gave up and called Hannah. I asked which direction I needed to go and she told me. I made it to the hospital in just under thirty minutes this time...because I started going the wrong way again a little further down at another change in the road...I realized it by the way the mile markers were going and turned around in one of those little turn arounds the state puts on highways and then tells you you can't use them because they are only for "authorized vehicles" which I'm sure means Troopers but I did not care. I had my story all ready if I got stopped. The state of Virginia not only owed me this privilege of turning around, they also owed me half a tank of gas for bad signage! A person should be warned if she's headed to West Virginia! Thankfully I didn't have to use it. We made it to the hospital, visited and found our way back without incident...on the road anyway. Going to Target was another story.

2010-07-29T12:08:00.000-05:00

oops!

2010-07-20T18:19:00.000-05:00

Lots of new things happening around us. We are presently waiting on word from Virginia that baby Norah will be here soon.
Michael has started his second year teaching Auto Tech at OHS. He went back today. We thought he had this week free, nothing like being called and told you were supposed to be at work yesterday.
I am still writing for our hometown paper and putting feelers out for other things. I am talking with a young friend about a new project...also creative in nature so I'll share that as soon as we get something solid. In the meantime I'm plugging along, ready for kids to get back into a routine, ready to have a quiet moment now and then (as I write this I hear my three little girls laughing in my bedroom...a sure sign they are destroying something).
I hope to be more committed to my blogging but I can't promise. With a life as crazy as mine I'll just promise to do what I can.
Thanks for reading.

2010-04-22T15:28:00.000-05:00

Mercy sakes! Ariel is wailing inside...she has a big fat "F" in math. I happen to hate math too but my mother did me a favor and made me practice multiplication and division at the kitchen table until I could at least do that much. I told Ariel to write out her multiplication facts in columns.She asked me why she had to. I asked her why she had an "F" in math, she said she didn't have time to finish her work. Her teacher told me months ago that if she didn't finsh her work she could do it for homework. Ariel never has homework...at least that's what she tells me. I haven't been getting weekly reports for a while. I'm starting to wonder if she is signing my name herself and forgetting to show it to me. I am very frustrated with her right now...ADD is a lack of focus, yes but it is not an excuse to lie and say you don't have homework or schoolwork for that matter.
I got Ariel started on her multiplication facts at 3:00, told her she had to write them all out 1-10. She has been trying to avoid it the entire time...she just handed me 1-5....it is 5:36. She has missed the first day with the new pool. If she had just gotten going on it she could have gone into hyper-focus mode and finished by 3:30. Instead she went into "poor pitiful me" mode and is still working..thankfully the wailing ended about an hour ago.

2010-04-19T09:30:00.000-05:00

I haven't been keeping up with my blog lately because I am writing for the paper and on facebook so much I don't have time. I really should take the time to copy and paste but I figure if anyone really cares they can friend me on facebook or buy the Opelika Observer...boy, how is that for lazy.
I am excited about all the events of the last month....the new baby next door being at the top of the list.
Follow his mother's blog...Baby of Mine.

The House That Built Me

2010-03-31T20:48:00.000-05:00

My daddy built our house. It was not very big by today’s standards. My first room was painted blue. I don’t really think Daddy was wishing for a boy, if he was he never made me feel like it. We had hardwood floors my mama fussed over. I could run and slide down the hall in socks. The bathroom was a neutral green and the inside of it’s closet was never finished, I’m not sure why but the furnace could be reached under the house by taking out a piece of plywood. You could also see the ground when it was moved and I was sometimes afraid a monster or witch would sneak up at night to get to me…I finally realized nothing was under there but dirt.
The kitchen was varnished pine with pink Formica countertops. There was a window over the sink that allowed a view of the big oak tree, the garden and assorted fruit trees. Huge old Hydrangea bushes peeked back in during summer months waving sky blue mop heads back and forth.
I remember playing under my mothers dining room table. My Barbie’s and baby dolls could often be found behind the tablecloths or in the upholstered seats of the fancy chairs. Every now and then Mama would let me help her polish the silver forks and spoons she kept in a special box in the china cabinet. There was a spoon, smaller than the rest with my initials on it. Mama said I used it when I was a baby.
We had a room we called the den. Daddy and I watched Bonanza, Ed Sullivan, Disney and the Flintstones on TV. At some point there was an aquarium with dozens of guppies and an orange Naugahyde couch. Neither made it very long. The guppies started eating their babies and the couch would stick to sweaty skin in the summer. Daddy decided after ten years or so to enclose the carport and make a new den. The old den became Mama’s sewing room and Daddy got a recliner and a fireplace. We all liked the addition but I kind of missed the sun coming in the kitchen window on winter afternoons. Mama insisted we needed a “sectional sofa”. I thought just a plain old sofa would have done the job with only three people in the family and Daddy in his recliner. We kept that gold couch for a long time. It made it through most of my childhood and two more houses.
When I was seventeen Daddy built us a new house. My mother tried to be happy about it but I knew she wasn’t. I was excited about picking the color of my new room even though I only lived there for a year before I left for college. I picked a light peach color with a slightly darker carpet. I got my parents mahogany bedroom furniture and a comforter that looked like a grown up. It made it easier to leave…since I didn’t grow up there I had no ties, no history, no openings where the witches and monsters could get in. I spent a couple of summers there but it never meant as much as the little brick house I grew up in.

There is a new Miranda Lambert song that inspired this note…I love her spunk and energy but this time she kinda tugged at my heartstrings.

2010-03-22T18:42:00.000-05:00

My Reality Show Idea

I have a brilliant idea....Those with ADD know what comes next...I rant for an hour about my brilliant idea, then I lose interest in my brilliant idea and move on to the NEXT brilliant idea. This constant motion is a character flaw in us...those of us who have the "H" in ADHD. The truth is we can't help it, things tend to go unfinished especially if the idea is a long term commitment. (I wonder how many marriages have imploded due to one of the pair losing interest. For the record, I still find my husband very interesting.) I have a closet full of projects that I started and meant to finish. I have so many interests it's hard to pin me down to one. I have said many times I am good at a lot of things...NONE of which generate any income...they usually only generate OUTGO! But for unfinished projects I'd probably be a millionaire! I certainly am not, but...this brilliant idea has potential!!!
I have an idea for a reality show! Somebody needs to get me in touch with the people at Style or Discovery or HGTV. This would be a huge success. Ok, here's my idea.
Take "Super Nanny", "Clean House", "Hoarders" and "Extreme Makeover Home Edition"...put them all together and you have "Extreme Messy Family Makeover"! I am as serious as I can be. I want to be the first family turned in!
I can see it now. The bus pulls up and some hyper, super organizer people hop off and run to our door. They don't send us to Disney World for a vacation while they bomb our current house and start from scratch, they make us all stay and HELP! In fact, besides the dream team we are the ONLY help! They set up shop quickly, they line up my children....the five at home. The first thing we have to establish is it takes all seven of us to get this project off the ground. EVERYONE will participate. It's going to take two full days, huh, maybe weeks to work the magic necessary to get us done.
In the end I dream of us all standing outside in our freshly manicured yard staring up at the clean windows, the siding sparkling and the gutters clean. We are asked if we want to see what we accomplished in a matter of two weeks (or months maybe) we all nod and smile. In we go to see everything in a proper place, laundry all done and put away, kitchen gleaming, bedrooms spotless, tubs and toilets shining, closets easily open and nothing falls out! Quite the contrary, everything inside is filed and sorted. Bins and baskets hold every needed item, and for each tool a drawn outline to mark the spot where they go, where they are and where they will be returned to. Surely by now I am sobbing. There on the bulletin board is a chart with each of my children's names and a list of jobs they are expected to do each day starting with picking up their pajamas off the floor.
It is utopia! Paradise! I love it! Of course this is where I inevitably wake up and nothing has changed. But, I think my show has real promise…in the meantime if you want a brilliant project and you are NOT ADHD, call me.

Velveteen Rabbit

2010-03-15T22:51:00.001-05:00

This week my granddaughter Aiden will turn two. I am holding out hope that the arrival of her little cousin Anderson will bring her to me soon but I don't want to wait to mail her gift. I want to give her the book The Velveteen Rabbit. I have always liked the story but it didn't really mean as much to me until now. There is a part in the story where the old rocking horse tells the rabbit what it means to be real. He says that real is a thing that happens to you when a child loves you for a long, long time. He goes on to describe what happens to you before you are real and the kind of people who never become real, "people who break easily, or have sharp edges or who have to be carefully kept." He tells the rabbit that by the time you are real most of your hair has been loved off and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. Yep, I'm real. I didn't know it until I got the book out for our little Elle at five. I was reading this part and started to choke back tears, she asked me if I needed to just stop reading, she's a compassionate one. I finished the book but I kept thinking about it.
What is real? My Raggedy Ann was real. She was my friend when I was a child. I suppose she was my security blanket, my one thing that helped me go to sleep when I was afraid. She went with me to college, took her place on my bed with the pastel pillows. It sounds silly but I couldn't leave her behind just yet. I would trade her soon enough for a grown up life.
I believe we are real because God wants us to be. I believe he puts children in our lives to teach us what that looks like. We teach them to be honest; they test us when we are in situations when a lie might be easier. They watch us in our relationships with others. They ask themselves if they are loving like mommy or truthful like Daddy. It is their love that makes us want to be those things. We start to look worn out and frayed to the world but we are more precious to them when we lose all pretenses and become who we were meant to be.
It is in our frailties we discipline them. We are not perfect, we can't expect them to be perfect, we can only hold them up to God and ask for his wisdom in our ignorance. Unfortunately many parents don't become real until it is too late for their own children. It is most often grandchildren who take on the job of making us real. I am thankful that God gave me young children at my age. I feel very honored
and blest to have them in my life. And when they tell me I'm soft in the middle or my hair has silver in it I smile. They aren't trying to hurt my feelings they are telling me what I already know, I am becoming shabbier and loose in the joints, they have loved me into real.

Lion Tails and Ruby Slippers

2010-02-25T15:25:00.000-06:00

Some days my life is easy and fun and nothing at all goes wrong but many more days are long and hard and scary. I haven't a clue what I'm doing here, I jokingly say it's "how I roll" or "I just fly by the seat of my pants" but the truth is if I didn't have absolute belief that God is working it all out for my good and His glory I'd have a hard time breathing. It's not the marriage or the kids or the job or the endless responsibilities that go with these things that cause me to doubt myself or my abilities, it's the face in the mirror that keeps telling me I'm too old, or too slow, not educated enough or not gifted enough. I doubt myself because of my SELF. I so identify with the Cowardly Lion in The Wizard of Oz, it is not that I don't have courage really, I just have never had to stand up and use it. I would rather stand quivering and twist my tail in my hands jabbering about what I do or do not believe in than to face the day confident that the God who holds the universe together has got my little problems handled. Let me give you an example of what I'm talking about.
Before Christmas my Suburban outran it's transmission. It was not a good time for this but instead of waiting for it to get fixed I drove a car that had an expired tag and was not insured (I REALLY thought our shop insurance covered it but it did not). I was pulled over by a sweet young policeman who no more believed my sob story than I believe in the tooth fairy (don't tell my younger kids I don't believe in the tooth fairy but for the record she has been slacking at our house lately) I was ticketed and told that I could appear before the judge and plead my case yada yada yada...fact is I didn't really have a case. After investigating the fines for my crimes I discovered I had to appear before the judge...in that, it was not an option. This rattled me. I don't really know why but I didn't want to have to explain why I had been driving an uninsured, expired tagged car.
I stewed in this knowledge for several days. I talked to my attorney, joked about going to jail, dreaded having to go to traffic court but ended up going by myself. But, I was not unarmed! My friend Kim called me and talked ninety-to-nothing about what I needed to to. "Go in there, fall on the mercy of the court and know that whatever the judge says will be what you have to accept". She also did as we often do for each other, she prayed, over the phone out loud...and pretty much asked the Lord to not let me say or do something stupid. I really love her. She so "gets" me. She was still talking like the girly machine gun she is when I pulled into a parking space and told her I HAD to get off the phone and go in because I was late and I was sure they'd add more fines for that!! I found the entrance and took my place in a very long line. I wasn't even sure I was in the right place but I asked a few people and was told everyone had to stand in this line first.
I observed the line shuffling along. Some people would talk to the lady behind the glass then leave the building, others here and there would take their tickets and exit to the right into THE COURTROOM. I saw several rows of chairs with a few people sitting, arms crossed looking very determined that they had a good reason for whatever it was they did. I started hearing the questions the lady behind the glass was asking. "Do you plead guilty or non-guilty?" the individual would answer and proceed from there. I caught on that the people who were pleading not-guilty were the smug looking ones in the courtroom. I knew I had no leg to stand on so when it was my turn to plead I said...."Uh,um,guilty" in fact I think I said "Uh, um I'M guilty!". I was so relieved not to have to go before the judge! When the lady asked how I wanted to pay the fine I asked her how much I needed to pay, she said however much I could. I was confused, she was confused then I asked her how much the fine was...she told me $311. I finally breathed again. I had thought it would be worse. Three hundred dollars is a lot of money for me but I had been told it would be more. I handed the lady my debit card told her to take it all at one time and I left feeling that I had somehow avoided prison.
I learned my lesson. I won't be driving anymore cars with no tag or insurance. I also learned that when I've done wrong even if grace is extended I will have consequences. I've been watching a pink netbook that I can write my stories on and skipe with my sweet baby Aidie. It will have to wait a few weeks. I am thankful to have a part-time job that I love so working for it won't be hard.
I also learned that although I may identify with the Lion, I have the ruby slippers. They are my family, my friends and all the things I love about my life and anytime I forget I can click my heals together and be right back where I'm suppose to be. Life is good, God is faithful and this action packed ride is pretty fun.
So, I'm gonna tell the Lion in the mirror that I am not afraid, I'm gonna dig that courage medal out of my pocket and wear it.

2010-02-23T13:59:00.000-06:00

I just don't know what to make of this. I have had many years experience with children, I know enough not to say I'm an expert...I think there are very few of those. Children are not as predictable as we grown ups think. I believe my little Lissy is a great example of this unpredictablity theory.
We started out okay today but quickly went down hill. There was no battle about clothes, shoes or hair. She brushed her teeth without complaint, but when it was time to go to school she bristled. She wanted to take her "bloony", a latex balloon she got last night a Chik-fil-a. She also got a little red basketball, which would have been appropriate for "show and tell". She had a meltdown because we wouldn't let her take the balloon. She left in a bad mood and according to her teacher went on to throw a fit at school, kicking, screaming, all the normal characteristics of her fits of rage. This time there didn't seem to be a cause.
We got home a few minutes ago and she greeted her balloon (now on the floor) as if it were a long lost friend. Then she realized something had changed...her balloon was not reaching for the sky like it had this morning. This made her angry! She started calling the balloon "stupid" and fussing at it to stay up in the air and not fall down. It was like watching a scary science fiction movie, there were no tears...so I'm guessing she was just mad but it was intense!! I was very glad not to be a balloon. She finally got so mad at it that she reached in the drawer and pulled out a pair of scissors and popped the useless thing...She then picked it up...walked to the trashcan and dropped it in. Not another word. Weird huh?
I can only imagine what she'll do next, she keeps me guessing and on my toes.

Peanut Butter Toast

2010-02-22T08:10:00.000-06:00

I have a thousand things on my mommy list today. It is Monday and my house looks like it. Why am I the mom who fusses at everybody about not picking up their stuff but get no results whatsoever? Note to self, fussing doesn't work, find alternative methods of crowd control. Yesterday afternoon I clearly remember thinking, if I can just get them all out and back to school I can have this place whipped into shape in no time. Well, it sounded good but now I wish I had sent everyone up with a laundry basket full of their clothes and all their shoes. When you multiply those items by seven you have a truck load and now I have no help. I suppose I shouldn't say I don't have ANY help. I have the little one. She's four, she's adorable and impossible all at once. She came in the kitchen a few minutes ago and asked for some peanut butter toast. I was so impressed that she actually wanted to eat something remotely nutritious for breakfast I got right on it. Her normal breakfast consists of Fruit Loops, a cookie and a couple of pixie sticks, I jump at the mention of peanut butter. As I delivered the toast she smiled and told me I was the "bestest mommy ever". I responded to the little cherub with "Thank you Sweetie" and mumbled under my breath, "I hope you remember that when you're fourteen". I know better than to let that one go to my head. I am not the bestest...um, best mother anyone ever had. I am old and tired and lack the ability to focus on anything for more than a few minutes tops. I think what she was saying was more like this. You are adequate, you take care of me, I don't have to worry about bullies or being hungry or cold. You love me and that is enough. I love you for your effort. Break that down into four year old vocabulary and understanding and it comes out "Bestest Ever". If I do my job well, she'll grow up and want a family, she'll be the mommy spreading peanut butter on the toast. She won't remember always having clean clothes or a good night song, she won't remember getting to pick out snacks at the grocery store or rummaging through my purse for gum or being lifted up to reach the mail. I hope she remembers being told she's beautiful and that she can be a ballerina or a doctor, a scientist or a pastry chef. I hope she realizes someday that she had a really fun childhood and was cherished and for a moment in time was my entertainment, my encourager and my help. These days are racing by, in a minute she will be gone. So, as I get back to the mundane chores of Monday I pray for her and thank God for the little gift I get to hold for now.

2010-02-19T20:44:00.000-06:00

2010-02-19T16:01:00.000-06:00

Next week I will take my first stab at being a newspaper columnist. I am very excited to get the chance to connect with people in our community who don't blog or Facebook. I feel sad that they are missing out on all the fun but I'm grateful for a chance to tell my stories to people outside the loop. I think I'm going to get to keep my "Greetings From The Circus" title on the column. It will be a lot like what I do on here. I'll probably start using this blog for more personal thoughts and day to day "stuff". I want to learn how to make my blog more interesting by posting pictures and music. If you are a blog literate person who would like to give me some pointers feel free!!! Thanks for reading.
Angie

Baby Shower and Friends

2010-02-14T19:58:00.000-06:00

My dear friends Kelly and LeAnn and Micah's friend from 8th grade Meghan held a baby shower in honor of the soon to be born Anderson Brooks today. It was so nice seeing Micah's friends and my friends and the great-grandmothers all together. We ooohhh-ed and aaahhh-ed over all the cute little boy clothes, blankets, burp cloths, and all the other great gifts he got. Micah's friend from birth, Lauren was there with her two sisters. I did the wedding flowers for her wedding a couple of years ago, now the younger sister is engaged and I'll be working on her September wedding this year. It's so exciting seeing these girls grow up and establish families of their own. It's special having these people in my life and in Micah's life. There will surely be many more babies in the next few years.
While we were talking around the food table my cousin whispered to me the reason her mother, "Granny K" wasn't herself today was because on Thursday her best friend died. They had been friends over fifty years. They talked every day like clockwork....seven p.m. they'd call each other and talk about life. I looked at my friend Terri, we've been friends since we were eleven. That's almost forty years...her granddaughter was born on my granddaughter's first birthday. We will be bonded for life. I imagine us old, talking on the phone. I can only feel sad for my aunt. I told her I was so sorry about the loss of her good friend. She just shook her head, still not able to talk about it. My aunt is in her late eighties, her friend was ninety-three. They didn't even meet until they were young mothers in the same neighborhood. They were the June Cleaver moms. I picture my aunt in her grass hopper Keds and smock she wore for gardening. She grew day lilies, kept a spotless house, insisted my cousin be involved in swim team and girl scouts. She and her friends ruled the world with smart straw hats and wooden spoons. I have two of her dresses from back then. I borrowed them for a sixties day and forgot to return them, I doubt she's given them much thought. I'm not sure why she even kept them. I didn't have the heart to tell her I wouldn't wear them because they weren't what all my friends were wearing to "Sixties Day"...poodle skirts and white blouses. I'm sure what my aunt loaned me was much more authentic. I picture her in the white cotton dress with green embroidery, smiling at the camera, her friend beside her leaning on a '66 Chevrolet Impala. I'm sure she would say those were the glory days, like Terri and I will say these days were for us. Fifty is not so bad when you think, Lord willing, we will be able to say we've been friends seventy years when we reach their age. Thankfully, we'll live on to be friends on the other side of this life too.

Another Shutterbug is Born

2010-02-09T16:57:00.000-06:00

When I was five I got my first camera. Really, five. I took it to kindergarten at First Baptist Church. I took pictures of my friends on the playground and while I was at it I convinced "Miss Sue" Blackmon and her assistant teacher to climb on the seesaw, skirts and all to pose for a picture. Somewhere there is proof. I haven't seen the pictures for a while but I know they used to be at Mama's house. Maybe someday I'll uncover them again.
I didn't think the photography bug was going to bite any of my children, although they have always taken great pictures and Lord knows they've all had experience being my models. Much to my surprise Matthan has come down with the fever. I can't express how thankful I am he's breezed past the "film snob" stage and has fallen in love with digital. It is so much less expensive than film and the immediate results are hard to beat. If the picture is lousy, you delete! Not so easy with film. He has taken some beautiful shots, some interesting shots, some shots a mother has to ask..."She really did have clothes on under that STOP SIGN....RIGHT?" So far I am impressed. I love his eye, which I have always heard is the key. I can't tell you much about my camera but I can tell a good photograph when I see one. I find myself sounding like a proud mama when I look at his art, oooing and aahing over everything on the computer screen.
I don't know if photography is "That Thing" he'll do to make his mark on the world but I know it is a very good thing. Micah has already challenged him to document her baby's first minutes and hours in the "outside" world. She said she knew I'd miss the pictures if I tried to do it...she's probably right.
I gladly pass the camera to him.

My Kitchen Redo

2010-02-05T21:07:00.000-06:00

For almost two weeks I have been working on my kitchen. It's about time, not much has been done since the house was built twenty years ago. I wallpapered it during the original process. I stripped the wallpaper about ten years later and painted it what I affectionately called "Hello Yello". It was BRIGHT, you didn't have to have a cup of coffee to wake up in my kitchen. I enjoyed about all of that I could and decided to paint it a much more tranquil green. I painted the cabinets a pale yellow (I say I but Michael did help, while I was away last weekend he painted a whole section). Once I got all that done I found that the old white trim looked really dirty and just bad....so I had no choice but to paint all the trim again. I finally finished this afternoon and it looks lovely.
The final phase of the project is going to be counter tops...I'm not sure when that will happen. I'm still bargain shopping for tile. It has to be bottom dollar and the cheapest I've found was about $6 a square foot. Considering I don't have a job right now I have no extra to just chunk at tile...so I will keep looking. I don't mind waiting it out. It should be worth it.

2010-02-01T19:18:00.000-06:00

I'll never forget the call I received from my daughter Micah, I was grocery shopping when my cell phone rang. Her cheery voice greeted me with the news that she knew who her "people group" was. She had told me about a retreat she had attended with a group of college friends where they were challenged to pray for God's direction as to who they should serve. This is in itself somewhat unusual for today's college student, being told it's not about the job you land, the bank account you build, or the status you achieve. These students were told it isn't about YOU at all...it's about what you will give away, and the people you will serve.
Micah told me her people group was foster children. She was about to watch God map out a plan that would forever change the lives of many children in the system.
She had witnessed what being in abusive and neglectful situations does to children. We had five foster children in our home at the time. Although Micah was married and living in another town she came home every chance she got to help with them. She saw what a struggle it was for us to go from having a quiet life with two teenage boys to the chaos that ensued when seven children all needed something at the same time. We were exhausted, sleep deprived and overwhelmed. We couldn't do it alone. Thankfully, we didn't have to. God supplied friends who did everything from organizing the children's clothes, to babysitting, to being an arm for our teen boys to lean on. It took that village we've heard about to help us survive.
In the midst of it all Micah was called to start a ministry. Big House Foundation was born. She named the organization after a song by Audio Adrenaline, a Christian band. The first Wednesday night we had our foster children we were on our way to church, I asked the kids to listen to the song. Some of the words are: "Come and go with me to my Father's house, it's a big big house with lots and lots of rooms, a big big table with lots and lots of food, a big big yard where we can play football, a big big house...it's my Father's house". The kids screamed to hear it again. We listened to it three times there and three times back. They were hooked. The song refers to Heaven but to foster children who may not be used to having enough food or room or a place to play it sounds like something they want right now!
The mission of Big House is serving the foster family. There is a clothes closet stocked with nice clothing free of charge to foster families, a swimsuit and beach towel drive each year so that foster children have a new swimsuit and a towel with their name embroidered on it. This past Christmas Big House hosted the foster family Christmas Party. Each child received gifts, books, hat's and gloves, and got the opportunity to eat breakfast with Santa and some of his helpers. Basically, the desire of Big House is to give every child a chance to do the things most children in traditional families do, including music, dance, art, sports, scouting etc.
Foster care is not a perfect solution, but it is all we have to do what we can for children in situations where they have no voice. As foster parents in Lee County we are thankful for friends, churches and organizations like Big House who are here to help.

Another Year of Blessings

2010-01-28T08:48:00.000-06:00

I know it sounds cliche but I am so blessed. I don't take the time to acknowledge the source of my blessing NEAR enough. I have a sign in my kitchen that says "Count Your Blessings" but how often do I forget to read that on my way out to climb in my old car (also a blessing) to pick up two or three of them. Blessings, they are everywhere. I have plenty of stuff I could live without and I'm making an attempt at getting rid of some of it. Some of the stuff I've acquired just stresses me out. I don't need too much in this ADD brain to get me off track of what's important,and I really do want to focus on what is important in this life.
As I've watched the news the past two weeks some of my blessings have become more profound. Can you imagine having no water? We go to the sink and expect to have water, how often I have taken for granted the fact I have safe drinking water. In Haiti water is a luxury. It is the same for the people on Indian Reservations in South Dakota. I heard last night that people are dying there because they have no electricity and are trying to heat their homes with kerosene because it is below 0 degrees. These are the same people our great great grandfathers escorted off their land so we could live in this nice southern climate. These people are so poor and depressed that they have one of the highest suicide rates in the world. I can imagine...if I had to watch my children freeze and go without adequate food and heat I'd be depressed too....the point is I don't have to do without anything I really need. So my car is old, my house has "issues". I have everything I could possibly dream of and more.
I think the one event that changed me more than anything in the last two weeks was the woman in Haiti who was laying on the ground with her head in the lap of one of her sister-friends who was trying to console her. She had lost four children in the initial earthquake and then her fifth at the makeshift hospital. I cannot get this woman's face out of my mind. These people are so poor, they don't care about houses or cars. They've never had much so "stuff" means nothing to them...but, to lose all her babies...they were her hope. They were her future. I'm sure she had dreams of them becoming self sufficient and getting out of poverty, maybe one was a musician and maybe one or two were artists, or fishermen or dancers maybe one of her daughters had learned to sew and was helping the family with clothes. In a matter of moments all her dreams died. I wonder if she knows God. I wonder if she knows he is holding her in his hand. I wonder if there is anyone who can reach her in her grief. I am praying for her today. I am remembering that there is no "thing" I need in this world that can take the place of my Father's love for me.
And I am counting my blessings
Hannah, Micah, Matthan, Seth, Ariel, Cheyenne, Felicity, Aidie, Anderson and all who are to come. Thank you Lord....how could I ask for more.

I'll NEVER Say NEVER

2010-01-19T21:01:00.000-06:00

Since last Tuesday I've discovered I am addicted...not to Diet Pepsi or chocolate (although truth be told those would probably fall into the same category) no, my new addiction is to the TV coverage of the earthquake. I don't mean to sound morbid...the death and pain these people are experiencing is heartbreaking. I grieve for them and with them over their loss. I want so badly to do something, anything to help but I'm still not sure what that is. The thing that has grabbed me by the throat is the coverage of the children. I have heard 60% of Haiti's population is under the age of 25. I've also heard there are thousands....THOUSANDS of orphans. We don't really have orphans in this country...we have foster children. We don't really have orphanages...we send them to individual families. The whole reason for this is somewhere in the history of our country someone decided orphanages were a bad idea. I'm certainly not saying I disagree. I'm sure some orphanages were terrible places where no one felt loved and there was never enough to eat. But, I'm not sure foster care is always the best way to go either. Especially the way kids are farmed out to whoever wherever. There are never enough good foster homes (and I know some great ones!) I don't want to get into a debate about foster care vs. orphanages. I have observed some pretty happy looking little children in the videos I've seen of Haiti. They are in need, sometimes hungry, sleeping outdoors but they have what looks like lots of attention. I think most of the orphanages employ Nanny's, maybe in such a poor country it's easy to find young women who will help with the children for a dollar a day. I think this is admirable. I'm sure it would be hard to find that kind of staff in the U.S.
So, as I've watched every night since last Tuesday to see how many orphans are being moved to the airport to be flown to their new homes in our country I wonder...Yes, all my friends are already thinking it...I wonder if any of those little ones are for me. I'm not going looking for trouble..but trouble seems to find me. I'm kidding, I certainly wouldn't refer to these precious babies as trouble.
I'm keeping my mind open and my heart toward God. He will let me know what is next for us. In the meantime, I'm praying for all the little ones who are waiting for what's next for them.

Help for Haiti

2010-01-15T08:31:00.000-06:00

I made the comment this morning that I was still tired. I have a sinus infection but haven't been to the doctor, my head hurts and I didn't sleep well. I am not a morning person so I am usually grumpy anyway but as soon as I made the "tired" comment I regretted it. As soon as I got all my kids out the door to school and settled my four year old down in front of PBS I turned on the TV in my bedroom. There on the screen was the picture of reality for several million people in Haiti this morning. They dare not complain of a headache. They have no one to tell if they are tired from sleeping with one eye open from fear..and on the hard ground.
Shame on me for complaining. Shame on me for thinking about myself. In the broad scheme of things my discomfort is nothing! Even the pain I have experienced recently pales in comparison to the woman I saw yesterday in Haiti who lost all five of her children in the earthquake. She collapsed from grief, I can only imagine.
I cannot fathom the pain of losing a single child much less FIVE. God bless her as she wakes up this morning, if she slept at all...how do you comfort someone in pain like that? Only God can give her peace. I pray she knows him.
I have to ask myself what I am being called to do.
My son Matthan has heard a direct call from God to send money to Samaritan's Purse, a ministry already in Haiti. He is also wanting to get in contact with an orphanage there we know about. He really wants to go there. He wants to make a difference to as many people as he can. He doesn't want attention for his work but his teachers have put him in the spotlight. He'll handle it well. He has a very mature understanding of how it's really not about him. It's about God and the people in need.
It doesn't matter to me what these people's ancestors did. Blaming them for this earthquake makes no more sense than blaming me for anything my great grandparents X however many generations go back two hundred years might have done. We don't know what happened with the witchdoctors or satanist...the fact is there was a terrible earthquake.
God is giving his believers an opportunity. Haiti may have been "sold to the devil" in generations past but today we Christian's have a unique opportunity to buy it back for Jesus! They need help. They need basics-water, food, shelter, clothing. They also need the compassion and grace, mercy and love of the God we cling to as Americans. I have joined Matthan's group on facebook, you can too. I am listening to what God may tell me to do to get his word into Haiti. I am not too tired to do what ever he has for me to do.

2010-01-13T08:58:00.000-06:00

I noticed something about myself yesterday. I move alot slower than I used to. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised but for some reason I AM. Yesterday I spent the entire day cleaning out my closet. I mean, it was bad but it wasn't ALL DAY bad.
Since I had back surgery in November I haven't really taken on a big project like this. I put it off before because I was in pain for six months so it was long overdue. I pulled everything out and put a bunch of stuff in bags for the thrift store. By the time I finished it was dinner time. I only had a few distractions, picking up Lissy from school, driving Ariel to tennis, laundry, cats and dog wanting in and out, quick trip to the pharmacy, Fred's (for cat food!) and then picking up at dance. I should have had plenty of time but the fact that I move slower than I used to made the endeavor much more agonizing. I LOVE organization but it doesn't love me! I am writing this and looking into my organized closet right now but it is taunting me....it will be messy again soon dispite my best intentions. I dream of getting everything clean and in order all at one time but it never seems to happen. I honestly don't know how anyone does it without being neurotic. I am neurotic about enough things...my house can't join that list.
I am forever buying the home magizines that claim complete organization in five easy steps or one hour, they always leave me disappointed. I have a feeling it would take me a long time to get my messy life organized especially at the rate I'm going.
Of course I'm always up for suggestions.

Mommy Needs A Minute

2010-01-06T12:30:00.000-06:00

I was asked yesterday who my target audience is for my stories. I really believe I have something to say to mothers. My initial idea was a devotional book that could be read in just a few minutes and could be uplifting and perhaps funny. One that might set on the back of a toilet and take up just a little time in the morning or whenever. I know as a mother of three tiers of children we mothers have little time to ourselves, especially if we work outside the home and/or have preschoolers! Homeschool moms would fall into this catagory too. Let's face it once a woman becomes a mother it's just not ever gonna be about her anymore! You wonder, you worry, you pray, you share, you yell, you preach, you calm, you reach out but you have little concern for your own needs, you are forever altered. I believe this is the way God wires us, to protect and to nurture. But, who's nurturing you?
Hopefully, since I am a "seasoned" mother I can encourage and uplift younger women. Since I have been made real and pretty much transparent by the love of seven children maybe I can speak some hope to the older mothers who read my stuff. In any light my prayer is to make you laugh, cry or just think about what your life means to God and the ones you love.

"Mommy Needs A Minute"

Day 1
"Bless the Lord, Oh my soul;
And all that is within me, bless His holy name."
Psalm 103:1

When I was in labor with my first boy a friend called the room where I was and asked to speak to me. I was handed the phone and in between panting and deep breathing she told me she had the perfect scripture for me to recite...It was the one above, "Bless the Lord, Oh my soul and all that is within me bless his holy name." She put extra emphasis on ALL THAT IS WITHIN ME...I thought she was joking but she wasn't. I started doing as she suggested, afterall she was the hospital administrator's wife and SHE had actually delivered her third child at home because HE didn't believe her when she said it was time to GO. I figured this woman knew what she was talking about. My baby boy was born just minutes after I began reciting the verse over and over. I guess he wanted to get started blessing the Lord on his own.
This particular Psalm is full of comfort for mothers...telling of what God does for us. "Pardons our iniquities", "Heals all our diseases', "redeems our lives from the pit", "Crowns us with lovingkindness and compassion", and my favorite "satisfies our years with good things so that our youth is renewed like the eagle"
I don't know much that is more rewarding than raising children, even if they are knocking on the bathroom door asking how long you're gonna be in there.
Just remember to tell them "Mommy's praying for you Darling, I'll be out in a few (years) minutes."
Thank the Lord for His blessings, for your children, your husband, your friends...keep this prayer in your mind throughout the day. Remember all He has done for you and share this with others.

Sibling Squabbles

2010-01-02T15:00:00.000-06:00

As I sit here on my bed I can hear my little girls arguing in the living room. I made the mistake of telling them they could take the ornaments off the tree....I mean it's January 2 and I haven't done it, surely they are better than nothing plus they volunteered! How often can a mom say her kids want to do something helpful? It was a mistake because I've already heard a couple of the ornaments hit the floor...then a scream, ALWAYS some one's name. I am assured NOTHING BROKE! I am not completely convinced but I'm not going to go see for myself until some body's bleeding. I listen...it's still there, the yap yap yap of three little bossy people.
"That one's mine",
"Stop Ariel",
"Yes I can help! MAMA DIDN'T YOU SAY...".
It happens any time they are together and they have been together a lot lately. We were coming home from the grocery store today and I thought a fist fight had started up in the back of the old Suburban...they were fighting to get out to get the mail. I never thought I'd see the day when I had to give assigned "mail person" day. It's funny the things they fight about! I had to assign them seats in the car so they wouldn't fight over either the window seat or the middle (if a movie was going to be shown) there were enough windows for everyone to get to sit there but they would all want the same one!!
I don't understand sibling rivalry. I had nobody to fight with. The cousins next door would spar with me occasionally but they had so much more experience with each other that they would just hurt my feelings and I'd go home to pout. After a couple of days we'd forget about it and start playing again. I attempt to make the girls apologize and forgive each other when I know what the heck the conflict is about but most of the time it's all so ridiculous I can't make heads or tails of it...like,
"MOM, tell Cheyenne she can't have all the chips".
Well, no Cheyenne can't have all the chips...she has some on her plate and you have some on your plate and...you get the picture. Someone is tattling because someone SAID something...oh and even better...
"She was going to do such and such"
Really? You know what she was going to do? The response to that is usually something like
"Well, she was thinking about it".
It gets very frustrating. I don't remember my older children doing this...at least to the degree these girls do.
One day years ago Matthan and Seth were sitting in the kitchen at the counter. I overheard a dispute that makes me laugh to this day. One said "You see Zack's new dog?" the other, "Yeah, it's a golden receiver", response- "Nuh uh, it's a black lamb". That's about as intense as those two got...until they were teenagers.
Just think what I have to look forward to with three girls during the teen years! If I don't need prayer now I certainly will then!

I Do Hereby Resolve to........

2010-01-01T17:21:00.000-06:00

I've never been one for New Year's Resolutions but I feel that I may need to change. After all I am now fifty and I can do what I want, right? I started this blog a year ago with the intention of doing more with it. I'm not exactly sure what the "more" looks like but I feel I have let myself down. I really just discovered that I loved to write and it's taken me all fifty years to have something to say (not that the lack of has ever stopped me). I got this notion that I might write a book but I'm not sure what the story would be...while I was insane from surgery and pain meds I dreamed about a little boy with flaming red hair and his magical green cat. I started writing that down thinking that I was suddenly Stephanie Meyer but as soon as I came out of my Darvacet cloud the story sounded stupid, I mean a green cat? Really? I do have an interesting story in my little girls. I want to record where they came from and what I know of what they've experienced but I don't want to exploit them or their history for anyone's entertainment.
I'm starting to doubt my suspicions about Harper not really writing "To Kill A Mockingbird". Maybe she did just have that one great story. Where is my Truman Capote? I need that push in the right direction.
Back to my resolution...I am going to try to get in better shape...isn't that what I'm suppose to say? AND I want to really find my story and write it! In this, my fiftieth year of life on this planet, when I declare I DO know a thing or two and I have this great laptop and I've brushed up on my typing and I have spell check....I have no excuses do I?
I welcome the suggestions of all my dear friends....
as long as you are not on Darvacet.

The New Decade

2010-01-01T01:07:00.000-06:00

I'm having trouble believing it is already the second decade in the "new" millennium. I recently read a book that was set in 1906, what did they call those years? The aughts? The ones? It's hard to hang a tag on anything that starts with a twenty and ends with an 0 something....but now we have the glorious tens! I enjoyed the 0's for the most part. Our older two children finished high school and college and both got married during the "0's", one had a baby. I owned a business, closed it, took on five foster kids and ended up adopting three of them. My mother declined slowly in body and mind during these last ten years...as I have I suppose. When I look at all the wonderful pictures we have of our life together I am so thankful for my family. I earnestly asked God as a child for a big family and he certainly granted my request. I have grown to love my husband more during the last ten years and I've become the proud mom to seven kids instead of the original four.
If I've learned anything in the first decade of the 20? it is to trust God. I know he has my best interest in mind and I find that fascinating. It's not an easy thing, giving up control of your life but it is rewarding beyond belief. I don't worry about what I'm going to do every day. I just put my feet on the floor and God directs my path. Sometimes I wander off in my own direction and I get a poke from the shepherd's staff. I can control very little even if I want to, so why not stay surrendered to the one who knows the last breath I'll take on this earth. I have to remind myself when my boys are out late at night that worry won't keep them safe, God's hand will. But even they have their own lives to work out with their heavenly father. I look forward to seeing what that will look like. I can't add anything to my life by holding on to it with worry. I have to constantly remind myself to just pray for my kids...all of them. This way I am telling the Lord once again that I trust him with my most precious blessings. He actually loves them more than I do, that's a happy thought.
Our pastor gave a message the other week about worry vs faith...he said that faith is the opposite of fear. I love that! I want to live without fear, don't you?
We gave our little fearless child Faith for her middle name because to me SHE is the opposite of fear. She never backs down from anything no matter how big or scary. I know God is going to do something miraculous with her. Maybe another Annie Armstrong or Lottie Moon. She loves people and has a servant's heart.
I am ready for the new decade. I have loved the old one to death...not every minute of it but most of it. I stand at the door of the 20-something's and smile knowing that the one I trust with my whole life is already there.

2009-12-29T17:47:00.000-06:00

This year has been one crazy ride. It started out with the celebration of our third "gotcha" day and Cheyenne's sixth birthday, her fourth in foster care. It was on her actual birthday that the judge made the decision to teminate her parent's rights to her (and all the others). I'm sure this was terribly painful to her mother. I feel her pain but it was not a surprise to any of us. We celebrated and grieved the loss at the same time. Of course this wouldn't be the end...there were two appeals. At about the same time we realized her brother would have to be placed where he could get constant attention. He never slept and was growing more and more threatening to all the girls. This process took several months. It was a loss for us all. The positive was this house calmed down so much I can't even describe it and the girls just opened up like flowers. We got busy making their room a fun place to live and pressed on toward adoption.
In July, Micah and Blake moved home, into my mother's house right next door. This was a wonderful event but our dear friends Jason and Lisa (who had lived in Mama's house) moved into their new home and we missed them. M and B literally dropped their things and we all headed to the beach for a nine day vacation at my cousin's condo. I loved being with all my family but a nagging pain in my right hip made me alot slower than I like. When we got home Micah and Blake told us they were expecting a baby in March!! We were thrilled!
Michael got a job with the Opelika school system and we were so thankful. He still owns his business but the cost of insurance was killing us...he was born to teach anyway so we just felt like this was more of God's call on his life. School started and he discovered what he was truly made of. I don't think he's ever been so tired in his life but I appreciate what he does more than he knows.
I realized my hip pain was really a disc or "something" and no amount of prescription pain meds touched it...I was scheduled for surgery. My kids planned a wonderful birthday party for me with my friend Kelly and I turned 50 just the way I wanted to, with friends and family laughing and eating.
Hannah and her family came home for Thanksgiving and announced they were expecting their second child, another time of rejoicing.
We were told all the appeals were over and the girls were ours to adopt. Halleluyah.
My surgery went fine and in a few days...okay a few weeks I was back to almost normal. We waited for an adoption date but the wheels were moving slowly...finally our friend Margaret Mayfield lit a fire under someone at DHR and we got the consent to adopt. On Dec 21, 2009 Ariel, Cheyenne and Felicity became Browns. We had a big party! So many people came we couldn't talk to everybody...the girls loved it! They felt like rock stars.
Last Wednesday the whole circus was together again. We celebrated Christmas and had a blast! One of the major gifts to the kids was a trip to Chattanooga, we left the day after the day after Christmas.It was a wonderful time, our first trip as a "real" family.
So here we are at the end of 2009. We have so much to be thankful for! We also have so much to look forward to. God is good.

I Heard the Bells

2009-12-15T08:04:00.000-06:00

Sometimes I amuse myself with the things I'm learning at fifty. Maybe I've learned it all before and have forgotten but it's really fun discovering "new" concepts at such a ripe old age.
One of the perks of getting older is apparently the decreased need for sleep. I feel like I need just as much but something in my brain says "nope, you need to stay awake half the night just for fun". Usually it's late at night that I can't shut my eyes and be still...today it was morning, pre-dawn mind you but morning nonetheless. I awoke to a paw on my face so technically I probably would have slept eight hours if left alone but this particular paw was attached to a sweet little kitty who was telling me she needed to go outside immediately! I much prefer opening the door to cleaning up accidents so I happily abliged her. When I realized it was 5:30 I decided not to go back to bed. I clicked on the TV hoping to catch Beth Moore or Joyce Meyer instead I found Casting Crowns (a Christian band for those who may not know). The lead singer was just about to sing one of my favorite "new" Christmas songs. He was introducing the old favorite "I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day", he explained that with all the turmoil in the world it's sometimes difficult to see the truth in the song. Then he made a statement that hit the bullseye with me. He said that WE ARE THE PEACE ON EARTH! Have you ever thought about that? The Bible says that God will give us peace that passes understanding....not as the world gives but something only the Spirit of God can give. The world does not understand when we have "a peace" about critical situations. I have experienced this peace firsthand and in a big way this year. He's given me peace in the struggles with the foster care system, with money woes, and then my back issues...when the doctor told me it might be something he'd have to biopsy. He has used his people to talk me off the ledges in life, and he has certainly given me a spirit of peace. There is no need to worry when the creator of the universe "has your back".
So, whatever you are facing this season take comfort in the knowledge Jesus was born to bring Peace on Earth, not necessarily to the nations but to one soul at a time. May his peace wrap you up this season like a warm quilt, and if you haven't felt it yet look up the Casting Crowns version of "I Heard the Bells" and see what it does for you. Merry Christmas!

Three Dolls

2009-12-02T08:17:00.000-06:00

When I was a little girl I always got too much for Christmas. I am truly grateful for the time and attention my mother put into my gifts but Santa always seemed to overdo it just a little. It's funny to think I realized this even when I was a child. My cousins next door would get about the same amount of toys and clothes as I did and there were three of them! My parents were not wealthy, they just felt the way to show love was to give gifts. I respect this as a legitimate "love language", the "giving of gifts" but it wasn't mine and I felt guilty sometimes about all the loot under the tree for just me. I would have traded it all for a little brother. That was not possible. I grew up a single, an only, number one, center of attention, over indulged? maybe, but not spoiled...I never expected my parents to do more or asked for much of anything. I never had to! Santa knew what I liked and he delivered! I think I was a grateful child. (My mother may remember it differently but then she remembers everything differently so I don't rely on her memory at all.)
One particular Christmas when I was about five I got three dolls. I remember the overwhelming fear of not being able to take care of three babies at one time...I obviously had a maternal instinct early on. Dolls were not listed in the same category as other toys, they were not toys at all to me! They required attention and care. I left Woolworth's crying because I had to pick one Santa Mouse and all the other Santa Mice were calling to me to choose them. Okay, I know that sounds like my mental illness was kicking in at an early age but I like to think it was just my tender heart toward dolls of any kind. I also remember vividly the knot in my throat when I walked down the aisle in Roses, at Midway Plaza and discovered a pitiful doll on the shelf called "Little Miss Nobody". Does anyone else remember her? That had to be the dumbest idea anyone in the toy business EVER had. She was dressed in rags, was dirty and had a tear in her eye! I was mortified! My mother was too. I wanted all of those dolls! They obviously needed a mommy! Santa hoped I'd just forget about it...well, I'm still thinking about it and it's been forty-plus years!
I still have a tender heart for dolls. I never let my boys treat their big sisters' dolls in any way but kind, I reminded them on occasion that they would be daddies some day and they needed to practice being loving to dolls. I'm sure there was some eye rolling from time to time and maybe even comments like "Mommy is crazy, she talks to dolls", "Yeah, she thinks they are real". But, you should see those same boys with our little girls and our grandbaby, so sweet! Seth was carrying Lissy around the other day, she was patting his face and saying "I love you lil brother". It's amusing that she calls HIM "little brother" considering he's a giant next to her. CJ calls him "Best Buddy", all three of the girls love their big brothers and the feeling is mutual.
So here we are at Christmas again. I "received" the gift I'm finally getting this year three years ago...I've wondered many times if I could take care of three little girls at one time but the Lord has paved the way and lit the path every step. Our adoption date is Dec 21. My dolls will finally be my daughters.
I'm still getting wonderful gifts that I don't deserve.

Thankful

2009-11-23T07:51:00.000-06:00

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

2009-11-19T20:53:00.000-06:00

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

2009-11-19T11:10:00.000-06:00

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

2009-11-09T07:42:00.000-06:00

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

2009-11-05T18:47:00.000-06:00

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

2009-11-01T18:19:00.000-06:00

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.

When We were Lee AND Scott, Class of '78

2009-10-30T21:37:00.000-05:00

I've written lately about finding Nancy, my friend from elementary school on Facebook. It's been so great talking to her, we are even in a Bible Study together on Wednesday nights. I just knew she would like the group of ladies that meet together and I'm happy to say I was right. It's funny watching her, this was the second week she was there and she realized she knew three or four of the women from a few years ago. They all laughed and shared where they'd been and how they were connected. She is loved there. It's a God-thing. The other night we went to a new business in Auburn after the study to meet up with some other friends to paint and share some laughs. Our friend Terri was the hostess of a little birthday celebration for me. She had not seen Nancy in a long time, it was good to be together again. We painted "coneflowers" on canvas while we sipped Coke and Mt Dew and talked a little about old times but more about how our leaves looked wrong and our colors were off.
Terri and I have never lost touch. We've been together through thick and thin. It always gives me great joy to tell people who knew Terri's husband "back in the day" that he is not the same guy. Well, he is the same person but he's truly changed from those early years. God made the difference and what a difference! Jack is a great guy, just goes to show that I didn't know what I was talking about when I tried to talk her out of marrying him twenty-eight years ago.
When I was first talking to Nancy a few weeks ago I told her I'd kept up with several of our friends from childhood at Lee Academy. I see Susan Turner (Chalopka) at church, I run into Kathy Barrett (Williams) downtown and am planning on going to lunch with her on Tuesday. I talk to someone in Hunt Crisler's family every now and then and have friended him and his sweet wife Kathy on FB. Philip Stroud is still in town, so is Allen Samford, he and his lady Jan Pugh (Johnson) were at my fiftieth birthday party the other night. He is still the champ at remembering everybody's birthday and anniversary.
I suppose there is something "mother hen-ish" about me but I really want these people to stay together. We came pretty close to starting out together, (most of us were fourth or fifth graders) Philip was second grade when he came to Lee, I was third. Now that we are all about to turn fifty (uh hum, some of us are already there) it's time to at least talk about some sort of reunion. I know the people who are handling the facebook page are working on it. It really shouldn't be too hard for us...the Lee class of '78, there were only 16 of us. In the senior picture, if I remember correctly there were 8 boys and 8 girls.
So, I'll end with a challenge. Let's work on getting everybody on facebook. At least we can talk to each other occasionally. I bet there aren't many people who can say all their graduating class (plus others who were with us for some of the years before) is on facebook.
I'm really looking forward to seeing you all!

2009-10-23T20:32:00.000-05:00

Aidie said "I love you" for the first time tonight. She has been so fun to listen to this week. She mimicks the other girls and repeats things we tell her to say but tonight as she was going to bed I hugged her tight and said "I love you" and she responded as clear as a bell "I love you". Hannah heard her and said she hadn't heard her say that before.
This makes me feel special. I have to say I haven't felt very special to her until now. It's hard to get close to a child you only see every few months. She is precious to me but I just haven't felt like a significant figure in her life so far. I mean we don't even have a clear name for me yet....I started out one thing and changed to Grammy then Micah had this bright idea to call us
Poppy and Moppy....

I kinda like that, I feel kinda moppy most of the time, sounds like a good name for a ragamuffin.

I guess it will be the name the grandchild next door calls me so maybe it will catch on. I dream of Aiden being close enough to visit twice a month or so but it doesn't look promising. I am comforted that Thanksgiving and Christmas are just around the corner and she'll be back then! But, in the meantime....I can hold the place of the person who got the first "I love you" out of her. I have to say that made this whole visit even more special.

Oh the tears when they leave this time, it gets worse with every goodbye. I want to run after the car and call them back for one more hug, one more kiss, one more minute. But, they have to go back to their lives and I have to get back to mine. I sure do look forward to the next "I love you" though sweet baby.
Make it soon.

Lissy's "New Attitude"

2009-10-23T05:42:00.000-05:00

I have talked about our little four year old and her sassy attitude before. She is really cute and I know I'm gonna kick myself for not having video of her when she is older but some of her behavior particularly at school has been terrible. She told her teacher that she was a loser, to hush, and finally that she was gonna "kick her butt"....I found out later that she heard this on "SpongeBob". We don't watch him anymore. But, lately she's been the model student. Turns out she is getting more attention being a "mentor" to the new kid. Yes, there is a newer kid than Lissy and she is apparently a bigger handful (at least for the moment). When I picked her up on Wednesday her teacher told me that the new girl was acting up at rest time and Lissy told her "I'm gonna need you to get back on your cot". Hilarious! I'll take that any day. She also sang her the school rule song and told her to keep her hands and feet to herself or else!!!! Perhaps she's met her match.
She's been really sweet at home too. As we move toward the finalization of their adoption it's good to see her growing in a good direction.
The six year old is growing up too. She is a very pleasant child most of the time. She is loving and sweet. I have to admit I had my worries about her at first but it seems like years ago that she'd fold her arms and say "No, I don't want to" about just about anything you wanted her to do. She was traumatized of course. She's really relaxes over the past three years....that's a lot of time to get that way. Our caseworker asked her the other day if she was about ready to be adopted and she buried her head in my arm and said "NO!", I realized she thought the worker was talking about her leaving US! We cleared that up really quickly and she was happy again, just precious. She has chosen a new middle name, "JOY" I think that suits her!
The oldest of the three has probably been the most effected by the shift toward adoption. She has been the most vocal about wanting to get there but she's trying us more. She has come to the realization that in order to join our family permanently she has to severe the connection with her birth mom. This was not her choice and it's very hard to think your mother doesn't want to do what it takes to have you. I am thankful that her mother didn't make the choice to abort her. We can always respect that choice and know that she loved them all enough to at least give them life.
We still don't have a date for adoption....we hope it's before Christmas.That will make four years these children were foster kids...way too long if you ask me.

Happy Visit

2009-10-23T05:28:00.000-05:00

We have had a great week with Hannah and Aiden. We have all loved having them here. It's been nice outside and we've done lots of playing. We are all amazed at all the words Aidie can say. Ariel is able to get her to say just about anything. One night at the dinner table she asked Aidie to point to each member of the family and she could identify all of us! That is quite an undertaking for a small fry. Her mama has done a good job with the photos!
Today is Friday, they are leaving on Sunday, this is going to be the hardest goodbye yet. We all love Aidie so much and she lights up a room when she enters. One day we went to the OHS to take Poppy lunch, she spotted Seth in the lunchroom surrounded by dozens of really big kids and ran to him. He loved it of course. She is turning out to be a really friendly toddler. She smiles this adorable little smile and everyone she meets melts. Hannah says they will be back for Thanksgiving so that helps my feelings, it's been about three and a half months since we saw them last. That is just too long!

Woman of Influence-The Adulterous woman

2009-10-19T19:04:00.000-05:00

If you are in the Airview Women's Bible Study you know your homework for this week was to think of a woman who has influenced you and be prepared to share.
I have no problem thinking of dozens of women who have encouraged me and led me in the right direction all through my life. Teachers, pastor's wives, friends' moms, and lots of girlfriends older and younger have influenced me for the good.
Tonight we will look at someone who would have certainly been a woman our mothers would have warned us about. The Bible says in ICorinthians 15:33 "Bad company corrupts good morals", if you have not made friend choices that would cruise in the "bad company" catagory perhaps your children have. As moms we are up against some tough competition for the hearts and minds of our children. We want them to be salt and light, but we don't want them being drug into the pit by the enemy!
For a moment let's just think of the crowd Jesus ran with. There were stinky fishermen, a tax collector, not much is said about the other's occupations but they were pretty much the plain janes of the day. No great preachers (yet), no prophets or Bible book writers (yet) just guys. They were probably of little if any real reputation. I love the fact that God didn't come down and commission great evangalists to walk with him. He chose flawed people. He loved the dirty hands and faces of the pure in heart.
One day Jesus had an angry bunch of "churchy, uptight, self righteous men" bring him a woman who was "caught in the very act" of adultery. I have often wondered where the man went when this woman was dragged out into the street to be stoned to death. The mob asked Jesus what they should do with her. Read: John 8:1-12. It pretty much gives us the story in living color. Jesus stoops down and starts writing in the sand. I believe this has significance because; 1) He gets down on her level, I bet he looked into her soul with those coffee brown eyes and made her feel loved for maybe the first time in her life. 2) He pretty much was ignoring what the men were saying and doing. I believe his silence spoke volumes. When he did speak he embarassed the men by challenging the "one without sin among you cast the first stone". They knew the law, they knew they were all guilty of some sin. No one dared throw a stone of course! As the crowd dispersed, Jesus stooped down again...I bet this time he smiled at the woman, maybe even winked a "I've got this" smile. Both times it mentioned him writing in the sand....have you ever wondered what he was writing? One pastor friend says perhaps it was the names of men who had been with this woman, or naming sins he knew they were guilty of. Just writing out the ten commandments would have been enough to disperse the crowd.
Now, we get to the woman's influence...when everyone had left Jesus asked the woman "Where are they? Did no one condemn you?" She replied "No one Lord" and Jesus said, "Neither do I condemn you: go your way. From now on sin no more.
The next verse says "I am the light of the world; he who follows Me shall not walk in the darkness, but shall have the light of life." Can you imagine for a minute what it must have felt like to have the living Savior tell you that 1) He didn't condemn you to die, although your behavior warrented it. 2)He had faith that you would follow him and sin no more. and 3) That from then on your influence on others would change dramatically...you would be walking in the living light! Now, that's what I'm talking about. I would love to have followed this girl back home and around town for a few days. I bet she couldn't scrub that smile off her face. Jesus had made the difference in her life and now she would go about her business as an influence for him. I bet she started up a women's support group for retired street walkers, fed the homeless and taught poor children to read. I imagine this woman becoming a joy to be around. Her new life had to be contagious.
Have you had this kind of influence in your life? A woman to whom so much has been given along with forgiveness that she just bubbles over with love and enthusiasm? Sometimes we need people in our lives who "have a past". They have been forgiven much so they understand grace better. Jesus didn't tell her to try to be a nice girl...he told her to go and sin NO MORE. Grace is not to be abused, but God knows our hearts, he knows it's hard for us to come back and say "I've messed up again". He is faithful to forgive us though when we are sincere.
Pray for any of your friends who are living a life of self and sin.
Pray for your influence to be that of a forgiven sinner who loves purely.
Thank God for the women in your life who have come to Jesus as "adulterous women" and left with new life.

Nancy

2009-10-16T15:44:00.000-05:00

Somewhere in all the pictures that have come and gone in this house there's one of me and my friend Nancy (and I believe my cousin Gina) at the lake in the winter time. We are sitting around a fire eating saltine crackers and probably those little "sausages" that come in a can. We were really cute, all of us with our almost seventies long hair and bell bottom jeans.
It's hard to remember first getting to know Nancy, fourth grade is long forgotten for the most part. Her mother had just died the May before school started and my mother was having health issues that were more serious than I knew about at the time. Still, mine lived and she was left without hers. Nancy shared with me the other day that she believes the fact that she didn't have her mother there added to a shyness she still has today. I imagine that's true. I remember my mother being so mad at me for saying something SHE DID embarrassed me and then feeling shamed that Nancy's mother was not around to embarrass her at all. I believe the shyness theory is probably true though, Nancy felt different I'm sure, not many of our friends had felt the loss of a parent even through divorce.
I got the chance to sit across the table from my friend today at Chik-fil-a and share a snippet of our lives the past thirty years. We talked about our kids, our husbands (for just a minute, all good) and our aches and pains. Nancy has had some incredibly hard health issues and lives with constant pain. The doctors told her a lot of it was caused by years of smoking. I am so proud of her for stopping that habit five years ago (she's proud too). She looked good, she didn't wear that shroud of pain you sometimes see on people who have suffered. She has a lot of love and positive things in her life. She doesn't socialize much but she's on facebook now and I have a feeling that's going to change to some degree. I felt a tiny bit like I made her nervous for some reason which is something I never want to do to anyone, but she was warm and forthcoming with answers to all my "where've you been?" questions. She never was one to hide the truth about anything. I love that in people.
She said she had read some of my writing and felt connected to me, well I'm glad about that, even if she hasn't been personally involved in my life all these years doesn't negate the fact she one of my life's oldest relationships. I hope we stay in constant contact now. I don't want to lose her again.
I'm gonna find that picture and post it on here as soon as I do about a million other things I have to do first. In the meantime, I'm so glad Nancy is back, I need her.

My personal Hero

2009-10-10T20:44:00.000-05:00

I have had a strange series of days. I have been on heavy medication for back pain that for the moment is still unexplained. I don't like taking medicine unless I really need it and lately I have really needed it. I have never experienced such torment in my life....with the exception of giving birth four times which should tell you I really wanted a big family, one bad epidural experience is enough for some women but the prizes I received at the end of the pain were so worth not even asking for the second, and so on.
The end of the week really got so bad I thought I would surely end up dead or in intensive care. Friday morning I woke up, got out of bed and literally had to hold on not to fall in the floor. My right leg just refused to move. To add to the stress of it all I knew I had to finish a wedding. It was thankfully all silk flowers so I had been working on it all week when I felt like it and didn't have much more to do. Micah graciously took Lissy to run some errands and I thought I'd take a pain pill and rest for a little while. I walked into my bedroom and saw something move at the foot of my bed. I was wearing my glasses so I didn't have to get too close to see it was a SNAKE. No, I'm not kidding. I am in the most severe pain of my adult life and now I'm staring down a black snake in the room I sleep in! I started screaming. I'm really glad no one was close enough to hear because I know I sounded like a crazy woman. Then I surprised myself, I stomped the hellish thing to death with my hurting leg, wearing flip-flops. I was screaming the whole time, I mean ugly crying screaming. Then I went and sat on my stairs and held my head in my hands and cried some more. I have not sobbed like that in years. It was like someone had died. I was in physical pain and emotional pain and I guess spiritual too. I cried out to Jesus to help me because I was seriously afraid I was losing my mind once and for all! You want to know what he told me to do? Text Matthan. That's what I did. I told him I needed him, I had killed a snake in my room and I was having a come apart and I needed him. I believe the Lord had me do that because he was exactly what I needed. I knew Michael would have felt terrible but couldn't leave his classes without a sub. I couldn't call any of my girlfriends, they were as afraid of snakes as I am. The Lord said "Call Matthan". I texted him, yes at school! All the more reason kids need their phones at school if you ask me...to rescue their parents from time to time. He texted back that he was on his way. His teacher asked him how he planned on getting the office to let him out without an excuse and he told her he was going to get his daddy to write him one. I'm sure Michael was just as glad to send him as come home to my hysterics himself. In no time that little red car screeched to a halt out front and my own personal Indiana Jones/William Wallace bolted through the door. I just pointed. He got some paper and took it outside and got a good look at it. He came back in and hugged me and told me he would help me pull everything out of my room and go through it to make sure there weren't anymore....it was little, I was afraid his mother was with him! Then he made me laugh when he said "I'll protect you from the lizard" (for that story refer to "Love and Lizards") I needed for my baby who keeps reminding me that in April he'll be eighteen, to just be here. He is really a great young man. He thinks with his brain and heart, he has an anointing on his life like I imagine King David did at seventeen, he's so beautiful and lion hearted, smart and truly loving. I know he thinks we only think about his mess ups but nothing could be further from the truth. I can't wait to see how God uses him. He has been gifted with so many talents, the least of which is comforting his mama.
I told him later that I was so excited that Micah is going to have a boy. I just have a feeling little Anderson is going to be a lot like his uncle Matty, I pray he is.

Rag Dolls

2009-10-05T21:05:00.000-05:00

I have been experiencing some pretty bad back pain lately. I'm almost fifty, what should I expect right? It's funny though how this pain in my hips takes me back to my childhood. Anyone who knew me well enough to spend time at my house would know I had an old "Knickerbocker" Raggedy Ann who was my security blanket, my lovey, my dryer of tears....I'd actually take her hand and wipe my face when I cried. I ran home crying once when my cousin told me she was old and ugly because of the condition she was in. She was old and well, rag dolls rarely start out as pretty as Barbies but that was why I loved her so much, she was just plain, she didn't come with extra clothes or doll beds or baby bottles, no frills, no extras. She was real to me, a friend not a toy. She did have problems from time to time. More than once Mama had to preform surgery on her arms or legs when they started to loosen and stray. That was okay though, she was easily fixed. I always loved her even more with a new line of gray or blue stitching across where her limbs and body attached. It didn't matter to Mama or me what color thread was on the machine at the time, she got sewed up and that's all I cared about. I've been feeling a bit like my Raggedy Ann. I'm loosening up in the arm and leg areas, unfortunately for humans, putting us back together is a little more complicated. I wish the doctor could just sew my right leg back on tight but something tells me this won't be a quick fix. But I am trusting in my healer, the one who holds us all together and I will be better.....
I found this song by a couple who call themselves "Watermark", it's called Mended. Download the song if you can it's beautiful.

You repair all that we have torn apart and
You unveil a new beginning in our hearts and
We stand grateful for all that has been left behind and
All that goes before us
You've got all things suspended
All things connected
Nothing was forgotten
'Cause your love is perfect
You are our healer
And you know what's broken
And we're not a mystery to you

We will dance 'cause you restore the wasted years and
You will sing over all our coming fears and
We'll stand grateful for all that has been left behind and all that goes before us

Lord, you mend the breech
And you break every fetter
You give us your best, for what we thought was better
And you are to be praised
You are to be praised.

Poetry and Painkillers :)

2009-10-01T22:03:00.000-05:00

I want...
life to be fun again
I want to try
I want...
to soar on a tire swing and touch the sky
and hold out my hand and catch the cotton candy clouds
and play betcha blink first with a spotted toad that I find while
I'm flying by
I want to dress up in my wedding gown dyed purple laces sprawlin'
and wear feathers in my hair and platform shoes by Colin.
I want life to be fun again
I want to play
while a butterfly lights on my finger and smiles and winks as she
flutters away.

2009-09-30T08:42:00.000-05:00

I have been suffering with a degenerative disk for about five months now. I kept thinking it was just a flare up and would settle down after a while. I finally went to the Herrings who have kept me going with similar problems in the past. This time was the exception. After a month it was worse, much worse. On Tuesday I went in hoping to talk to the MD but he was booked and I came home crying.He did call me later and faxed in some prescriptions. They helped some but buy the next day it was unbearable again. My friend Lisa Smith told me she was coming over here first thing the next morning to take me the ER. I agreed, I couldn't get any worse and I certainly was not getting better. So we went. I have to say the ER is a much more fun place with someone who is as zany as I am. We talked about out impossible "mommy" schedules and the fact we've been planning on getting together to just go somewhere for coffee for over a year and haven't done anything of the kind...so, instead of coffee we went to Target and she went in and got us popcorn and coke...I loved it. Who needs fancy pastries and $5 coffee?
I love my friends, Lisa isn't an old fri(yet) but she's valued beyond measure and since I'm speaking of friends.

Kelly Cox brought us a wonderful meal last night. I had gotten up stumbling around in the kitchen trying to focus enough to check out the frig. Micah(darling)told me not to worry, Kelly Cox was due any minute with Lasagna, salad and the works, which included one of the best pies ever put on a fork. I haven't checked but I'm sure there's nary a drop of any of it left.
Of course Ellen has been here everyday, bringing food, treats, helping out with the girls. And I don't know what I would have done without Micah. She has just been the little mama. Everything from dressing the girls for school, cooking hamburger meat (which no pregnant woman wants to do), to grocery shopping, tutoring, keeping the house from turning into a real pit She even laid down the Queen's law with the big boys about picking up after themselves and not being noisy in the house, (they just took the electric instruments outside but it was helpful) I am so thankful that she's here.
Then there are the silent warriors,my "dogs of peace" who are out there doing their day to day stuff and see someone rubbing their backs in a grocery line of watches someone struggle to get out of a chair and think of me and say a prayer...I so appreciate each and every one of them more than they can know.
I am blessed with so many friends. I treasure you all.

Legacy-Nichole Nordeman

2009-09-19T17:31:00.000-05:00

I have been invited to lead a women's Bible study on Wednesday nights at the church I grew up in. It is very special to get to do this since I've started writing alot and hope to maybe some day soon publish some of my stories in a book. I have been really overwhelmed by the responses by so many women about my little stories. I am such a simple person. My friend LeAnn refers to me a "low maintance". I like that as a description of me and my husband likes that I buy all my clothing either at a thrift store, consignment shop or Walmart. I color my own hair, have been known to take a whack at it with scissors too, I no longer pay for fingernails although if I ever do have a few extra bucks would like to go back to getting that little luxury occasionally. I admit my guilty pleasure is paying a sweet lady one day a week to vacumn my house and do a few loads of laundry....with five kids at home that's just called investing in a little sanity. I am a plain Jane, even like the name Jane, should have been given that one maybe. In saying all this I don't mean to sound like I am lacking in any way. I have been blessed beyond measure. I have every need provided and there is nothing I really want that I don't have. I have a wonderful husband and two teenage boys who teach me that love and prayer are the two main ingredients to parenting and God has to do the "handling of life" no amount of talking to or about them makes change like talking to the Father on their behalf.
God blessed me with two beautiful daughters 25 and 23 years ago and HE turned them out so well that he loaned me three more to love on for a while. I believe He has given me the ability to call out gifts in people...maybe not the kind of gifts you've necessarily heard of before referred to a "spiritual", sometimes they are. What I want to get across to all the women in my life is you are a person who influences others whether you realize it or not. The way you greet people at your job or the words you say as you drop your children off at school, everything you do as a woman influences others.
It's not about what you are capable of really. In the scheme of things we aren't capable of much, but when we get out of God's way and let him BE the influence things happen. I write and talk a lot about my youngest three children. They have taught me more about God's adoptive, accepting love than anything or anyone else ever could have. I share my story of how we got started in foster care. It was a dog. I was crying because she didn't have a home. God asked me why I would cry about a dog when there are 500,000 children in foster care who are considered homeless in our country. I didn't think I could love someone else's children like my own. God said..."No, but I can do anything in you....it says so in my word. Phil 4:13 says it loud and clear, I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me". I have had to believe that over the past three years more than any time in my life. It has taken time but God is good and these girls are blessings to me.
I want to encourage you as women to get in touch with how God the Father sees you. I want you to realize your influence on others. We are not super heros but our Jesus most definitely is. We will trust him to show us how we can influence our families, friends and the world for his good pleasure.

Now, about the "Theme Song" for our study together...I was holding one of my little ones in the kitchen when it came on the radio and I danced her around listening to it...I had heard it many times before but it had never spoken to me the way it did that day. I was holding a Legacy in my arms.....I want to make sure she knows my heart for God and my commitment to her before I leave this world. Tears started pouring down my face....she looked at me as if I had lost it.....maybe in that moment I did, I lost the fear that everything would be alright.
Now, this is a song that comes to mind every time somebody says what a "good thing" we are doing taking in these children...I'm not interested in anyone's opinion of me really, although like the song says "I don't mind if you have something nice to say about me..." I really love the way Nichole put my feelings into words so I'm just going to share hers with you....

Legacy

I don't mind if you've got something nice to say about me
And I enjoy an accolade like the rest
And you can take my picture and hang it in a gallery
Of all the Who's Who's and So-and-So's
That used to be the best at such-and-such
It wouldn't matter much

I won't lie, it feels all right to see your name in lights
We all need an "atta-boy" or "atta-girl"
But in the end I'd like to hang my hat on more besides
The temporary trappings of this world

I want to leave a legacy
How will they remember me?
Did I choose to love?
Did I point to You enough
To make a mark on things
I want to leave an offering
A child of mercy and grace
Who blessed Your name unapologetically
And leave that kind of legacy

I don't have to look too far or too long a while
To make a lengthy list of all that I enjoy
It's an accumulating trinket and a treasure pile
Where moth and rust, thieves and such
Will soon enough destroy

I want to leave a legacy
How will they remember me?
Did I choose to love?
Did I point to You enough
To make a mark on things
I want to leave an offering
A child of mercy and grace
Who blessed Your name unapologetically
And leave that kind of legacy

Not well-traveled, not well-read
Not well-to-do or well-bred
Just want to hear instead
Well done, good and faithful one

I want to leave a legacy
How will they remember me?
Did I choose to love?
Did I point to You enough
To make a mark on things
I want to leave an offering
A child of mercy and grace
Who blessed Your name unapologetically
And leave that kind of legacy

I don't mind if you've got something nice to say about me

(if you've never heard the song Youtube it.)

Observations on Fostering

2009-09-17T12:36:00.000-05:00

Questions……so many questions. Like, what makes a person a parent? Is it “being there” at conception? Well, according to the laws of our country today the moment of conception is not considered the beginning of a child’s life, it’s considered cell math or after a little time a fetus but the jury seems to still be out as far as when life occurs (clearly not in my mind but in the mind of some who would dare look at the ultrasounds and still deny humanity). So, say this collision of cells actually makes it to birth, be it a couple of months early due to mama’s alcohol, tobacco, pot or worse consumptions, and it’s a little girl, perfect in every way. Wow, for that to even happen should be considered a miracle. She is tiny, has seizures every now and then and has trouble learning to suck a bottle but she’s alive and the doctors have every confidence she’s going to make it. Mama doesn’t care that the people from DHR are coming to take her, she names her something ridiculous like “Snow White” and laughs, everyone knows why…snow, an old street name for cocaine (she’d name her that but she’s sure it wouldn’t fly with the authorities). The social worker tells her there is a treatment center she can go to free of charge. Mama says she’ll think about it. Right now she’s in pain and just wants someone to bring her some clothes and a joint or a rock and a pipe, any damn thing would be better than this stupid Tylenol they keep trying to shove on her. She’s not thinking of the future, she’s not thinking of her baby, she’s thinking about what she’s been thinking about for the last five years…..getting high, feeling free for a minute, one beautiful minute. She’s not going to get that here so she starts to peel the tape from her IV. She’ll make a run for it as soon as the late shift comes on.
At this very moment there is a woman sitting in her bedroom window praying. She has cried every month since her twenty-eighth birthday from the reminder of her inability to have a child of her own. She’s lost hope but she keeps praying. The phone rings. It startles her out of a fog , the voice on the other end is saying something about an infant that will be released from the neonatal unit in a couple of weeks and a foster home is being sought for her. Everything else becomes static, she just heard baby and foster home, could this be the child she’s prayed for? Of course the caseworker wants to warn that human resources is working with the young mother, it is always the hopes of the agency and court system to help work it out to reunite the children with the birth parents. It is not an adoption agency. The young woman doesn’t care, she’ll take the baby and see what happens….oh foolish woman.
I want to step into this scenario and scream! You will have your heart ripped out of your chest if you aren’t very careful!!!!! Didn’t you hear what the social worker said? They will take this baby away from you! They could give her to a grandparent who out of a sense of duty will take her, or after a couple of years there will be a man show up at the agency and say he wants custody of some kid his ex-girlfriend told him was his, or it may be a distant relative, an aunt or uncle or cousin. Just when you think it’s all over…..it’s never over. You’ll have taken little Snow White home from the hospital, bathed her, fed her, changed her, shown her off at church, spent ten times the money the state provides for her, and fallen deeply in love with her. You couldn’t imagine loving a biological child more than her, she’s the center of the universe as far as you are concerned. BUT, you are simply a surrogate. You have no rights to her at all. You’ll notice your caseworker calls and gives you doctor’s appointment times, signs all legal papers, and requests that you be a good girl and bring the baby to visit her mama, sometimes she can visit…sometimes she can’t because she’s been on a binge and either doesn’t show up or has drugs in her urine. This is the life you will live….indefinitely. You may have been told that this can only go on for twelve months, this is a lie. Birth parents can do one thing right…show up for visits clean twice in a row, or get a trailer, or start working on a GED or keep a job for a month and proceedings will start in their direction….they are making great progress! Then, you’ll notice you don’t hear from them for a while…my hunch is the process has started over, they’ll be given more time to get it together. They learn how to work the system. And then there are always the appeals. What a lovely smack in the face to the judges. Sometimes I’m sure appeals work to return children to the place they belong, but I’d be willing to guess at least 95% of the time they are simply a stall tactic and stall they do. One case I am very familiar with drug out over four years because the mother could (and did) appeal. Each time an appeal is filed there is a two to six month wait. This ties everyone’s hands. The birth parents don’t have to do anything during this time…they can just rest easy, they don’t have to make any attempts to “do better” while waiting on appeals, they know they aren’t getting the decision overturned, they just want to hang up the system and ultimately keep their children living “homeless”. This is especially damaging to the child if they want to be adopted and they are with the family who wants to keep them. You will be tempted to just not talk to your child about it. She knows she belongs to you and that lady down in that little room in the big office building who’s always referring to herself as her mama is not her mama, you are. She doesn’t like to go there, you don’t like to take her but you HAVE to. And you do because foster parents tend to follow the rules, we actually have a lot at stake.
Whether a couple or individual fosters because they want to adopt or not they are looking to protect children from harm, and to teach them how to get along in the world. All children need these things. They have a desperate need to belong, to be somebody’s baby. When a case drags on it damages their ability to trust. How many times can a child ask, “Mom, is this my forever home?’ and have you answer, “Honey, I wish I could tell you yes but I’m not the one who makes that decision .” How do you explain that to a six year old? An eight year old? You are the only trustworthy person in their lives and if you can’t answer the question they have nowhere else to turn.
So back to my original question…What makes a person a parent? Should someone automatically get to take a child home after three or more years just because there is a biological connection? If that is the truth I curse the day we discovered paternity tests! My heart goes out to men who aren’t told they are fathers as soon as the mother knows she’s pregnant but perhaps a dose of fidelity would be good here. And I know some awesome single fathers! But, if a child has been placed in a loving home and has established bonds, have family and friends and parents who adore him why would anyone see DNA as a trump card? We are a country of mixed families, blended families, families by choice. Why can’t we do the best thing for our children and let them live where they are most safe and loved.
If you really have an answer for me, respond….

.I have no intentions of arguing with anyone about rights of fathers. They should have every right mothers have but if you’ve gotten someone pregnant and found out years later the child is yours, make sure he or she is in a good loving home and visit occasionally. Don’t think for a minute they will be better off with you unless you’ve witnessed their current family situation. All children benefit from having extra people to love them…don’t rip them away from the only security they have. Add to it!

Nobody Likes Me When I'm Sad

2009-09-16T21:37:00.000-05:00

Let's face it, nobody wants to be around someone who's depressed...unless they are getting paid a chunk of change to listen to the dribble. It's no fun to share silence when it's the product of not being "able" to talk. I'd be the first to admit I don't understand depression. I've sure seen my share of it. I have fought so hard most of my life not to give in to it....but sometimes it's just too hard. I want to go into my closet, close the door and just stay there. I don't want to call on any of my friends, I don't want to pray (which I know is what I should do). I just want to disappear for a little while. Is that so much to ask? Well, in my case I guess it is. Funny, how guilty I'd feel if I shrugged off my responsibilities for a day...or heaven forbid two. It would be most insensitive to my husband who, if truth was told is probably in a deeper hole emotionally than I am right now.We have a lot going on. What else is new? LOL....no not really, I am not laughing at all.
I heard today that some foster parents lost their kids, they'd had them three years. Apparently, the sperm donor showed up and said he'd wondered where they were and "presto" he gets them...that's enough to make you cry right there. I wonder if the powers that be would take our girls if they discovered I suffer from a "mental illness". It would surely be a good enough reason...and never mind that they keep me out of the closet or bathroom when I feel this way. I can't not take care of them...I can understand how they feel when they get in their moods, like tonight when the four year old had a meltdown in the bathtub. She just got mad, no real reason. She said she wanted to wash the kitty cat makeup off her face, when I went to help her she got mad and turned away from me. I didn't get upset with her....I felt the same way. I don't know what I want either. She stayed in the bathtub after I finished bathing her, she wouldn't budge....just sat there crying. She didn't want to talk about it. She just wanted to be left alone, then she didn't, then she did, that's exactly how depression is. You want to be rescued, but you don't want anyone to touch you, or speak a comforting word. You want to be squeezed tight but your skin hurts if someone gets too close so you turn into a human porcupine. It's a paradox, a contradiction of human nature. I feel like a paradox. I love nothing better than to laugh and to be with people but the dark cool quiet calls me and I want to curl up and dissolve into a sad soup. One thing is pretty evident to me by now, I will be back. I'll sleep it off, or someone will throw up during the night and I'll snap back to reality. I'll start over tomorrow like nothing ever bothered me at all. At least that's my plan.

Poem

2009-09-16T20:58:00.000-05:00

Ever feel useless?.........
I do…..today.
So many things I can do nothing about…..so many.
Things I can do don’t seem to matter
Things that matter are out of my reach.
Worry doesn’t help
Striving doesn’t change anything.
The lilies of the field don’t have mortgages.
The birds of the air bring home food to their babies without grocery money.
I’m just tired of the struggle….
I give up the worry
…. but I still sleep next to it.
I turn to it in the morning and stroke it’s face
It looks through me
I’m not really there
I’m nothing….no one….useless.

Church Kid

2009-09-13T19:47:00.000-05:00

Today I got to attend Homecoming at the church I grew up in. I always love to visit there. I was baptized there, married there in 1982 and then brought all four of my babies almost straight from the hospital to Sunday morning service. It was the family at Airview Baptist that sent Michael and me off to work at the children's home, the same family welcomed us back after a year. Michael was called into the ministry there under the guidance of Gerald Sykes, they ordained him and prayed "us" through seminary. That place holds very special memories for me...they go back far and deep.

I was probably four or five, still a baby really, but once you could sit up without assistance you were booted out of the nursery back then. Church was a part of life, a part most children endured unhappily but tolerated just the same. I really didn't mind. I loved the preacher, he rarely yelled or pounded his fist like some I'd seen on TV, and he was always working in the neighborhood, visiting people, rolling up his sleeves and helping out. Once, my mama backed over one of my kittens. If that wasn't traumatic enough for her she had to bare me screaming at her like she had done it on purpose, our preacher was driving by and undoubtedly heard the commotion , he stopped, carried me into the house (probably praying all the time) then disposed of the dearly departed. I felt comforted later that my kitty had gone to Heaven in the back of my preacher's truck, my dog Trixie (who loved the cat) never forgave him though. From that day on every time he even drove past our house Trixie would chase his truck and if he even attempted to get out at our house she would nip at his cowboy boots...he seemed to understand though, he never held a grudge against her.
Our church was pine paneling on the inside of the sanctuary. There was a river Jordan scene painted in the baptismal "pool" that I thought was really beautiful, I don't remember who painted it but I do remember the fight that broke out when someone paid my aunt to make heavy green velvet drapes to go over it. The drapes were to remain closed behind the choir until the time we needed the river Jordan to appear for a baptism, this made some people in the church upset, I suppose they wanted to always feel as if they were gazing at the river Jordan, I think the thought of it there made other little kids like me remember that they didn't go to the bathroom after Sunday School and to avoid constant disruption somebody decided it would be best to cover up the distraction. Either way, it really didn't matter to me, I was a child and I thought it was really neat when the lights would go down and someone from behind the choir loft would pull the cord that opened the drapes to the beautiful river scene. Then "Billy Bob" or "Betty Lou" would get dunked and we'd all clap....something rarely done in our church back then.
Most Sunday nights I got to stay home with my daddy to watch "The Wonderful World of Disney" and "Bonanza" on TV. He'd always make us some sort of messy snack and we'd wait to see if Mama would care or not. My favorite was "parched" peanuts and Coke. Daddy would cook them on a big cookie sheet and we'd watch whatever they were showing that week, sometimes we watched "Mutual or Omaha's Wild Kingdom" but I could never stand it if a lion or tiger was chasing some poor gazelle or long eared rabbit so we were particular about those. One the occasional Sunday night when I went to church with Mama I remember dozing off on the hard wooden pews, head propped on hymnals. I'd sometimes shed my shoes and socks and stretch out to count the ceiling tiles. The lights in the sanctuary reminded me of pictures I'd seen of our solar system, circles within circles with one big light bulb in the center. In the early summer the doors to the outside would be propped open and you could hear the crickets and frogs and a car passing by now and then, on more than one occasion a neighborhood dog or cat would wonder in to see what was going on...this convinced me that animals did too go to Heaven, some of them even went to church.
Church was a place of comfort for me. As I grew up I found myself going more and more by myself. It really didn't matter though, I had family there, not biological family but related in a more important way than blood, family put together more by God's design than a gene pool. I am grateful for those early years, for the sweet memories of tapping around the folding chairs in my Sunday shoes, of "Sunbeams" on Tuesday afternoons, of sweet little old ladies who taught me stories about Noah and Moses and David and the Giant. I am who I am today because I was a church kid.

Happy Birthday Ellen

2009-09-12T23:48:00.000-05:00

I didn't buy you a card. But, since you chastise me for keeping you up at night reading my blog I thought maybe this would be even better.
Tomorrow is the birthday of a very good friend. I have known her for a long time. I first was introduced to her twenty or more years ago because I just had to meet this remarkable woman who had applied to adopt through two different means, actually had two babies placed by those two agencies and discovered she was pregnant all within months of each other...She was the hero of many women in town. She handled it all with grace and gratefulness. A few years after we met, my family built a house in her neighborhood, we now lived two blocks from each other but had no real connection until that day when my Micah came home from a band trip to Myrtle Beach talking non-stop about a boy named "Blake". Somehow I knew that his mom and I would become friends for life.
A few years later that boy and Micah were planning a wedding. Ellen was a joy to work with on this. She was always willing to go the extra mile to help. She welcomed my baby girl into their family and accepted us and our little additions as her own. I can't begin to count the times she's called and asked if I needed a break, or if she could just take the girls somewhere. She's tutored them, fed them, bought them clothes even bought tap shoes for them. We jokingly refer to our little girls as her "practice grandchildren", of course they love her and always consider going anywhere with Miss Ellen a special treat! I could never tell her how much her help has meant to me but I often refer to her as my "right arm". She's always there when we need her. Once, I had one child with strep. I was busy with my mother in the hospital and couldn't take the sick one with me...she called out of the blue, didn't know that the child was sick but asked me if I needed something...I told her I didn't because I didn't want her exposed to strep, she laughed over the phone and told me she had been exposed to everything under the sun as a teacher (just retired) and to bring that baby to her! That's a friend!
So, instead of a birthday card, I wanted to dedicate this entry to Ellen Melnick, a friend in deed. Happy Happy Birthday!!! You are going to be a fabulous grandmother!
I love you!
Angie

2009-09-07T12:59:00.000-05:00

Sunday we had the party I've been talking about to celebrate the life of my cousin John Alexander Starlin III. He served in Vietnam and made it back home forty years ago. His sister, Zula hosted the party at her home in Anniston.We all enjoyed ourselves, it was a very low key, laid back event...from the Mexican barbeque to the entertainment, it was all Johnny. He is a very proud grandfather, he lives for his six little legacies. They were all there enjoying the day with Papa and the other family and friends who joined us. It was a very good day.

Summer 09

2009-09-05T13:51:00.000-05:00

Firm Foundations

2009-08-31T08:46:00.000-05:00

I've mentioned before that my daddy was a builder. He built houses his whole adult life. He was what I would call a master. He was a perfectionist when it came to something he was going to sell to someone else, I always thought it was kind of funny that he never got around to finishing the inside of our bathroom closet. You know how the old saying goes, "the cobblers children have no shoes". He was just too busy or maybe he just left that one element incomplete for some reason I never heard. I saw many of the houses he built because he would build a house a year at Lake Martin on the weekends then sell it once it was finished. He usually had a buyer before it was done but he would make sure we finished out the summer swimming and skiing and riding in the boat. I wish I'd paid more attention to his skill and knowledge when it came to building. Since I was a girl he never thought to pass along the tools of the trade.
One thing I did learn about the building world from my dad was the importance of a good foundation. I watched him many times dig the footing for these homes with a pick ax and a shovel. He would lay out this elaborate string system with two-by-fours at the corners. Then he would start digging. He never needed to go to a gym, he built massive arms doing this kind of work. It seemed like such hard work just to cover it all up with concrete and then wood. I asked him why he did all that and he told me that a house is only as good as it's foundation. His favorite was the "slab". That's when you poured a concrete sub-floor and built right on top of it. His second choice was a crawl space but he only did that if the lot was impossible to get flat. I remember going with him to look at property for possible house sights. If the land was hilly he often kept on going but if it had at least the potential to be flat he walked it off. He would measure the property with is steps a yard at a time. I was usually waiting in the boat or the truck doing what little girls do, day dreaming, playing with dolls, or picking weeds on the edge of the potential house spot, sometimes if it wasn't too thick with briers he'd let me follow along after him. I couldn't rattle on like I was prone to do though because he was measuring, counting steps. He could imagine a house on a lake front lot like it was already there...I have to think I got some of my imagination from him.
When the lot was purchased he'd start his work, clearing, burning then digging. It would take him a while to get all the digging done but he did it all by himself. He'd lay the brick help the men from the concrete company smooth out the slab and he'd really be off and running. It was amazing to me to watch the progress. He'd usually take about a year to complete his projects but that was working only on the weekends. It bothered me that he never went to church, but I'd hear him whistling hymms from time to time and he loved Hank Williams song "I Saw the Light", he'd sing that one out loud. I felt like his work was a kind of praise to God. He would not have fit in at any of the churches I knew of anyway.
I remember the one time he attended our church. It was a Sunday night and my beloved was getting ordained to preach. Daddy actually came and sat right up front with the family. I waited for the roof to fall but it didn't. He wasn't a church goer that but that was between him and the Lord. He built a firm foundation into my life by being committed to something he loved, his work and his family. Although it was sometimes a point of contention between he and my mom it was something he had to do. He drew his identity from it. He never made the living he deserved, he usually sold the houses far under market value but he put me through college without a single student loan, made sure my mama drove a decent car, had a nice home and plenty of anything we needed. There aren't many men like him left, now dads are more involved in sports and other activities their children are interested in...I'm glad about that for the most part. Dads need to be there for their kids, and kids certainly need fathers in today's world even more than when I was a young. Work is a means to an end...at least in my case it was a good example for life. Do something you love, do it well and start with a good foundation.

A Heroes Welcome

2009-08-27T18:32:00.000-05:00

I have a cousin who served in Vietnam. He was nineteen when he first went, just a little older than my boys are now. I cannot imagine the nightmare he experience while he was there. I've heard so many horror stories, the heat,the incredibly dark nights, the mosquitoes, the shear terror of it all. I was all of fourteen when the war ended so I didn't really think too much about it back then, they said it was the first war we could watch on the nightly news but after a while I think we all just got used to it and didn't pay attention quite as much. This was the way it was, we had service men and women in probably the scariest place in the world but it just didn't seem real from our recliners and couches. All I knew was I had a cousin over there and I hoped he'd come back walking not in a pine box . All the soldiers wanted to get back too and dreamed of their families and friends at home. While they were doing this a movement was going on that shocked many when they did get their discharges or furlows. There were people, Americans, who threw stuff at them, spit on them and called them all sorts of horrible names. My cousin experienced this himself. It was not bad enough for a bunch of boys right out of high school to be shipped around the world to endure all sorts of things they would never be able to get out of their heads...they had to come home to a group of people who were loud if not large in number who despised them. What a pity. I wish I had been a little older, understood a little better, had planned a party when my cousin came home. I'm sure there was some sort of quiet celebration with the family, I think I remember going to my aunt's house to see him but I'm sure it was not what he deserved.
Well, better late than never I guess. Another cousin, our hero's sister, called me yesterday with a plan. We are going to throw him a party to celebrate the forty years he's been out of the military. He is somewhere around sixty I think but he has cancer. We don't know how much longer he's going to be with us so we thought a party to celebrate his life would be better than us all grieving his death. This way he gets to enjoy being talked about. He is a hero . He earned the Bronze Star twice and some other medals or honors that I've heard he told the army to put where there is never sunshine. After the way they brought them home in the cloak of secrecy to avoid the radicals who would treat them badly it's a wonder any Vietnam vets have a positive view. I've heard many are homeless, many have severe emotional problems, some have given up on life itself. But some, like my cousin have walked on, they have raised children and enjoyed grandchildren, they have kept their faith and opened up to family or friends about what happened to them while they were in the closest thing to Hell most of them have ever dreamed of.
On the Sunday before Labor Day we will come together as a family with pies, cakes, fried chicken and potato salad to let our hero from the war know we won't forget his service to our country and to us. I'll apologize that my regards are so late.

Dogs of Peace

2009-08-26T08:08:00.000-05:00

I've been waking up at 3am the last few mornings. Usually what I do when I can't get back to sleep is pray. I've been really trying to not talk so much but listen to God instead...He obviously has more important things to say to me than I do him. This morning was particularly interesting...I'll try my best to explain what I think he was getting at...somewhere in my praying I slipped into a dream, I think.

Sheep. I have always loved sheep. I have not been around many and I've been told that they tend to smell bad and are not very smart. Well, the same can be said about teenage boys and I usually have a yard or house full of them and love them too. I was once at the home of a friend who told me his mother was cooking lamb chops for dinner...being a huge Sherry Lewis fan, I was having no part in that. (To those of you who are too young to know who she is google her, she had a little friend named "Lamb Chop") I told him I had to leave. I know the people of the Bible ate sheep as well as used their wool for clothing and skin softener, the latter two don't bother me but killing them just makes me a little queezy not to mention very sad. Anyway, I had sheep in my dream but they weren't the main event...no, another animal was the champion of this dream. We had a shepherd, I am certain, now that I think of it he was Jesus, makes sense, he is the good shepherd. But, he had helpers. They were beautiful border collies who weaved in and out of the herd moving them around with great precision. The shepherd walked behind and the dogs did the work....I believe this dream was God's voice to my ears.
I have some very good friends who are those "Dogs or Peace". They are the ones I call on to ask for prayer, usually it's a request for someone they may not even know but they go to work for me. They work together and don't even know it. I have had some very specific requests lately and I see God moving in big ways and directing my sheep herding friends to go left or right, to visit someone who's about to go over a steep embankment, to stop and be still or to be bold and tell the truth in love. It's a beautiful picture of what the kingdom of God really is all about. It's not a church with a tall steeple, or beautiful architecture or the people who go to these establishments to "see and be seen". It's about the sheep....those of us who are smelly and not too smart. It's about all of us who are searchers, dreamers, failures and successes. The shepherd loves us all and the "Dogs of Peace" help guide us home.

This is a song that came to mind when I woke up after the dream.I wish I could have found it to download, it's a rock song but beautifully done by a group of studio musicians who call themselves "Dogs or Peace". The album is called Speak, if you can find it in the back of some record bin or on the net get it. The words of this song are simple but...hey, so are sheep.

Out on the mountain
The Shepherd is watching
Those running from all reason
We can help them see Him

We can do our part
To change the hearts
Of everyone who's
Out there running
Storms are coming
Out there on your own
You call the Spirit
Angels hear it
The dogs of peace will guide you home

We're merely servants
Bowed before the Master
Humbled that He'd choose us
We're amazed that He could use us

To do our part
In changing hearts
Of everyone who's
Out there running
Storms are coming
Out there on your own
You call the Spirit
Angels hear it
The dogs of peace will guide you home

We can do our parts
In changing hearts
Of everyone who's
Out there running
On your own
You call the Spirit
Angels hear it
The dogs of peace will guide you home

To Billy, Teresa, Kelly, LeAnn, Les, Michael, Melda, CarolAnn, and all I have missed...thank you. Keep up the good herding.

Lissy and the Crane

2009-08-19T20:54:00.000-05:00

This morning on the way to school, as we were leaving our driveway we saw that the crane that loves to sit on the bank of the pond was caught in a fishing line. The line was left there this summer by someone fishing. I hadn't really paid much attention to it but when I saw the crane I thought maybe someone should have gotten it out of the tree...that someone probably was me but I don't have tons of time to think about the pond or things hanging over it. Anyway, the poor bird was caught at near the tip of one wing, the line had obviously wrapped around it and tightened so he couldn't pull it loose. I felt so sorry for him but Lissy was beside her self. She kept asking me what I was going to do for "Bob", that's what I started calling him because he is a Crane and the only famous crane I could remember was an actor named Bob. Lissy kept saying "poor little guy, we have to help him". It was so cute to see her concern! She even suggested that we call somebody! I didn't know anyone to call at 7:30am to rescue a giant prehistoric looking bird! We got back from taking the older girls to school and he was still standing there waving his wing at us...Lissy wailed, "Mama, we have to help the little guy" again. I called our neighbor Trip who seems to be something of a nature lover himself...I know for a fact he threatened to call the proper authorities to some mean boys in the neighborhood for trying to shoot our owls, why would anyone want to shoot an owl? Okay, sorry, need to focus....he said he would come out and see what he could do...then from the front porch Lissy "directed" Trip...she told him to "get something at yours house and cut Bob's wing loose", and she asked "are you gonna hep him Mssr Trip?" "He is stuck in the fish line, poor lil guy" I was trying to get myself together so I could be out the door for an appointment in just a few minutes so I was listening.I seriously doubt he could hear her but she directed just the same. She cheered when Trip cut him loose. She yelled "Mom, Mssr Trip got him! He got him!" She was so appreciative and excited. I think she really felt empathy for the bird, this is a sweet and wonderful emotion for a four year old. I am so thankful for her kind spirit.

After thought....Matthan felt terrible that he couldn't help Bob before school but he was running late as is his habit. He said he really felt bad when he saw a baby crane there with Bob, perhaps we should change "his" name to Babette.

2009-08-19T13:01:00.000-05:00

To Whom It May Concern:

I have been witnessing something for several months. It began as a natural affection for the tiniest human I'd ever seen, much less held in my hands.I am a foster mother, consequently many of my closest friends are foster mothers too. My good friend Kelly brought home a little precious angel...he had been born many weeks early and needed constant vigilant care. Kelly was God's choice for this child because, as with most foster children the biological mother was not able for whatever reason to handle the responsibilities of a high demand, special needs child. I had talked to Kelly many times at length about what it meant to foster and how she and her family was up to the challenge of taking in children and letting them go when the time was right. This little boy is now 20 months old. The physical therapists and doctors said he wouldn't do near what he's doing now. Kelly's family has challenged him at every stage, made him reach farther and work harder to get him to the place he is today. Last night I witnessed him with the family and extended family at a local restaurant, he was walking all over the place! We are all his cheerleaders. At one point he saw me looking at him and he waved his little hand at me. I waved back and blew him a kiss, he put his hand to his mouth to return the gesture. I wanted to cry.
Kelly has said so many times that she wouldn't let her heart be set on adopting this sweet baby because of some factors none of us have any control over. He is a black child and Kelly's family is white...there is no color separation in this little boy's mind, he has decided in his young life to call Kelly "Mama", she didn't teach him to do this, she tried to get him to call her "Nanny Kelly", he heard her biological children calling her "Mama" so there was no stopping this. Children need to call somebody "Mama" I just believe that is born into them....this boy loves Kelly because all his life she has been his mama. Kelly's family has no problem with him being of another race. They have friends from different ethnic groups and backgrounds, they love him because he is the person he is not because of or in spite of his ethnicity, but there are problems with this in the eyes of some. Another reason Kelly has not wanted to get her heart set on adopting this child is there is a "resource" available who is a family connection. I have no reason to think these people are bad or have any wrong motives for wanting custody of this child but they have not been there all his life. He is still very young, but he is very attached to his present family and attachment continues to be the prevailing factor in foster children's learning problems, emotional instability, poor social interaction and many other issues that effect children in the system. I have experienced this first hand! I have done extensive research and I believe if a child can be placed early in his life in a positive environment where he is stable and LOVED he can thrive in spite of his beginning. This child is a perfect case study for my theory.
He really shouldn't have made it....but he did.
He shouldn't have made the progress he has with Cerebral Palsy.....but he has.
He shouldn't be walking yet.........but he can.
He shouldn't be talking yet........but he does.
Where would this child be without a family who has in spite of themselves fallen deeply in love with him?
Where will he go from here?
My suggestion has been all along, some form of co-parenting. If parental rights are terminated for his biological mother, let Kelly's family keep him. Let the family resource be just that, a resource that has some input in his life and plays a part in his upbringing. Every child benefits from more adults and extended family loving him. It is just not morally right to strip him from the only home he's known. We have all seen the heartbreaking scenes on the news of caseworkers tearing a toddler out of another families arms while the child has a total breakdown. Why would anyone want to do that? It is a terribly selfish act on the part of the adults.
Bottom line, I saw this little boy in the middle of his "real" family last night...Kelly's immediate family and those of us who would also grieve the loss if he had to be removed from their home. I know he will suffer a tremendous, possibly irreversible setback if he is not adopted by my sweet selfless friend.
We hear "best interest of the child" all the time....adoption by present foster family IS best interest for this child.

What is Family?

2009-08-19T12:59:00.000-05:00

Cub Scouts

2009-08-18T21:17:00.000-05:00

When I was little Mama signed me up for Girl Scout, Brownies really . There was a little building in the very middle of the village where we met. I was allowed to walk to the meetings with two older girls, Ellen and Kate. The girls in my grade who walked were Betty, Steffie and me. I remember thinking it was so grown up to walk past the bus and right off the school grounds without even telling a teacher. Most of the kids thought nothing of it but it was new to me and I loved it. Of course Ellen and Kate were totally bored with the rest of us and walked a few feet ahead at all times. They were only escorting us out of some kind of Girl Scout duty, like there was a badge they could earn for babysitting. Their mamas were the scout leaders. They were very nice to us but I didn’t enjoy girl scouts as much as I had Cub Scouts. Our neighbor Mrs Conway was a den mother. They lived across the street and on Tuesday afternoons car loads of boys converged on her carport. She always had the meetings out there…winter , spring, summer, fall…I figured she didn’t want those smelly boys in her house, I didn’t blame her a bit. If I had been in her place I would have made the boys who LIVED there sleep outside, they were the smelliest of all. Mrs. Conway always looked pretty and wore pearls like June Cleaver. I didn’t care for her older boy at all. He tried to kill me once, and if my cousin James, who was bigger and meaner hadn’t stepped in he might have finished the job, he pulled a pocket knife and told me if I squealed on him for saying a real nasty cuss word and using the word Bible in the same sentence he would cut my sissy tongue clean outta my head. He had embarrassed me in front of a bunch of people once too and I had no mind to forgive him for either offense. I just stayed out of his way. But, cub scouts looked like so much fun. They did the best crafts in the whole world. Mrs. Conway would see me hiding in the camellia bush watching from my yard. She would hold up the crafts for me to see, if I seemed interested she would invite me over after. The best one was the seed rooster. It was a piece of plywood with the outline of a rooster drawn on it. She had a bunch of little Dixie cups with seeds in them for me to glue on the board to make the rooster. There were beans and corn like I helped my daddy plant in the spring and there were other seeds I had never seen before. Daddy could identify all of them but I just thought they were really pretty and worked beautifully for a rooster’s tail especially when they were varnished to a golden shine. The crafts were the only part of Cub Scouts they let me participate in, that was fine with me. Mrs. Conway always saved the stuff so when the cloud of smelly boys cleared I could do the craft too….only she let me in her dining room to do it.

The Coat

2009-08-13T13:46:00.000-05:00

I know why my children love thrift stores. The girls have heard the story before but I'm not sure the boys know it. It has only been recent that they have showed that instinct toward second hand clothing.
It was mid October 1986. I had just bought groceries at the Winn Dixie which at that time was on Second avenue next to the Burger King.The forecast was changing from the mild temperatures we usually have that time of year to the first possible frost and cold snap. I felt it in the air. It was already windy and felt like the thermostat had dropped while I was in the store. I was feeling sorry for myself because I only had a few dollars left after buying food for the week. I looked at my angels in the backseat. I pulled the car to the edge of the parking lot and put it in park. I prayed, "Lord, it's getting cold and Hannah doesn't have a coat, help me to find her one." As I looked up I saw a sign in the window of the house on the corner across the street. It was a children's consignment store. I had not ever been in one and was curious to see what they had. We tumbled in the door of the little shop to find a nice lady working on some papers at the counter, she smiled at the girls and asked if she could help me find something...I didn't know what they had really so I just told her I'd like to look. We thumbed through the little girl's clothes for a minute or two, the girls playing at my feet, that's when I saw it. A little purple coat on a mannequin above the children's clothes. It was as if someone put it there for me to find...but I didn't know if I had enough money, I checked the tag. It was $4. I almost cried. I grabbed the coat and tried it on Hannah. It fit perfectly. She loved it because it was purple, I loved it because it was a very good coat, like new, for only four dollars. I thanked God, purchased the coat and left the store. I had a warm spot in my heart for consignment stores from that day on. I started checking with those stores whenever the girls grew out of their things. I started donating clothing we didn't need anymore to Salvation Army and Goodwill. The girls started looking at thrift store shopping as a game. One year before they started back to school Hannah took twenty-five dollars and bought her school wardrobe at a Salvation Army, later that year one of her friend's mothers told me that her daughter wanted to dress like Hannah but they couldn't find the sort of things she wore at any stores locally. I had to laugh, I asked her if she was serious. She didn't understand my amusement. I told her where Hannah shopped and she couldn't believe it. Micah soon started the bargain shopping too. They've described it as going hunting as opposed to shopping for outfits that everyone else has. It is so much fun for us to explore a new city...one of the first things someone will ask is "Do they have any good thrift stores?" They all seem to feel that clothes aren't any good until someone else breaks them in for you.
Another concept that my children love is... give with a cheerful heart and it comes back to you. It never failed when they were little, I'd clean out drawers or their closets and give away clothes and usually within two days a bag or two of hand-me-downs would turn up on our doorstep. This was always so much fun for them. They started thinking the best shopping was going through a bag someone had left for them. We would take what we liked and donate anything we couldn't use.
I am not opposed to buying new clothes now and then but the best things I have are most likely from a second-hand store. Even my boys have discovered the fun of hunting for cool t-shirts and old plaid pants in thrift stores...in fact, the other day Micah took our youngest son shopping for school clothes. After looking in several stores at Tiger Town he finally told her he had to get out of that place....he quipped "These clothes are all too new!" Gotta love that.

Falling in Love

2009-08-11T20:27:00.000-05:00

I may have mentioned before that I've fallen in love several times in my life...some of those times were purely and obviously "puppy love". Then, somewhere between Michael accepting a kiss from me being silly when we first met to him taking me by the shoulders and saying, "It's ME, marry ME, I'm the one" I definitely fell in love with him. But I have fallen in love four more times since then....each time they put that little squalling newborn in my arms I fell head over heals. That love is just as indescribable as trying to express the beauty of a rainbow to a person who has never had sight. I have tried to tell my kids how it feels but they don't "get it" until they have their own children...one daughter has a baby girl, she understands what I'm saying, our other daughter is expecting her own in the spring and she will surely "get it" too. If Michael is a gauge by which I can measure how the boys will be as dads they will surely be right there with their wives falling for their infants when they are born.
I have just recently discovered I have fallen again. First with my little Aidie, grandchild extraordinaire, who was born in March of '08. Then, somewhere in the last year something miraculous happened...I discovered the fierce mother bear love for my three little additions. It had to happen slowly, we foster mothers have to be guarded or the system will devour us. We aren't advised to love them too much...a judge will reprimand and warn. We are reduced to no more than glorified babysitters and most of the time there is no glory at all. Glory is not what we are after...it's the opportunity to do what we are called to do that we want...to love them as they grow up. So, until we are reasonably sure they are "ours to keep" it is excruciating to give too much of our hearts to these little ones...but sometimes, even before we appear before the judge praying he or she has the wisdom of Solomon we crack. We give in to this emotion to be their "real" mothers and we are thrown into the abyss of black, gut wrenching fear. Most of the foster mothers I know are praying women, it's the only way we survive .
This all came to settle in my brain this morning. I woke up drenched in sweat. I remembered my dream vividly. We had gone to another city to meet some people and eat dinner...we were to be away from home for several hours. I was meeting my family who were all coming in groups in different cars. When we all got to the meeting place I looked around and couldn't find Lissy or Cheyenne. I asked everybody where they were. I started to cry. We had left them at home. In my dream I was trying to find phone numbers for neighbors, friends, anyone close to my house who would go get my babies....yep, you heard me I said "MY BABIES". I could find no one at home or who'd answer their cell phones....I started running. I was getting to those girls or I was going to die trying. It was unthinkable to leave them. I knew they would be afraid, I heard them crying, it was horrible. Then I woke up.That's when I knew.
They are mine.
Someone else gave birth to them. I don't know if she loved them from the minute she saw them or not. She could not or would not protect them and take care of them the way a "real" mother does...they had to be removed and I am truly sorry that it happens that way sometimes...but they never have to worry about the mother they have now. I won't let them be abandoned. I will be here.
This reminds me of a beautiful needlework piece that I first saw hanging above a friend's adopted baby's bed...it said
Neither bone of my bone,
Nor flesh of my flesh,
But mine, just the same.

You did not grow beneath my heart,
Instead, you grew within it.

That pretty much sums it up for me too.

Laptops, Love and Too Little Sleep

2009-08-09T05:30:00.000-05:00

I have a laptop...for that I am truly grateful. I used to share the family computer not so long ago and that was fine but I have teenagers...they are a good bit like vultures when I'm on trying to facebook or write something, they circle around me til I'm dead (or give up and leave) then they swoop down into the seat and devour the keyboard. It's a sad sight...My beloved remembered that we had a laptop that just needed a new "cord". He bought the right one, which in itself is a miracle, not that he bought it but that he could find the right one! (Why do these things have to be so complicated? Why can't everything just have the same kinds of plugs and wires and what not?) There are fourteen different kinds of cables in our house for cameras and ipods and you name it.... we've got a cord for it...and they can all be found under the computer. The cord that attaches to my laptop has three separate components. The part that plugs into the wall with the battery thing on it, an "in between" part and a short little adapter part that actually plugs into the computer...stay with me I have a point. At any given time any one of these components might get ticked off at another and decide it wants to "break up" with another part of the relationship....inevitably my computer will notify me of the split by saying my battery is low and I'm endangering my valuable work by not switching to another energy source, as if I could just go ahead and plug up to the sun or something. I usually check my three components, have a little family counseling session and get back to what I'm doing.
This morning there was a different problem...I woke up at about 4:45 to the sound of Precious snoring in my ear...God knows I love this man, when he is awake he is like an angel. Let him close his eyes and sounds I can't describe start coming from his mouth and nose. I always have two fans running just to be able to drown out some of it. Last night I was too busy listening for the sounds of pitter patter of size 14 feet coming through the door to remember to turn on the second fan...the one that kinda sounds like a jet engine. I had been checking my email and put my laptop on it's desk, the ironing board,(what else would I use it for?) and completely forgot to plug in the fan. It's kind of an ordeal to do that anyway. I have one plug on my side of the bed and one of the outlets is taken by the clock. So, that leaves one for the laptop, the iron (haha, like that ever happens)and the jet plane fan. I usually plug it in right before I do my evening rituals...spray my nose with Afrin, put Vicks on my lips, text my boys that it's past their curfew and snuggle up to the freight train and try to go to sleep. Some time during the night I realized I forgot the fan part. I knew it would involve some kind of light to find the plug so I decided to pray for a while and maybe I'd drift back off in spite of the noise....wasn't happening. The ceiling fan started making this little "tick, tick" sound. The chain that controls it was clinking against one of the globes, I had to fix that. I grabbed my phone so I had a light and wrapped the chain around the top of the fan. So much for that noise, until a few minutes later when I heard the chain unwrap itself and fall back to it's clinking position. I knew the night was over...I got up to get the laptop, checked the three parts of the cord once I was back in bed and started typing. I started getting all these notices that the battery was low. I reminded it that it was in fact plugged in!!!! It begged to differ and proceeded to close down everything and went completely black...okay that did it. I got out of bed, checked all the pieces of the cord up to the wall plug it was on the floor....the fan was still plugged up! All I had to do was push a button and the jet fan would have drowned out all the noise. Oh well, I was awake now. So I sat there for the better part of two hours reading, writing and thanking God that I have someone who may keep me awake at night with his snoring but loves me through some pretty crazy stuff that I dish out...by now it was almost 6:00, we had to get up in a few minutes but he was quiet right then...and my eyes were so heavy. I woke up to the alarm a little later snuggled up to my laptop. I looked at my sweet husband sound asleep there and had to smile.

Tree Climbing

2009-08-07T17:58:00.000-05:00

My cousin Len was my first best buddy. Our houses were next door to each other when we were growing up. It was Len who brought out every ounce of bravery I could collect when we were five and six. He could climb trees better than anyone I knew and did so with ape-like skill. He could climb anything, oaks, pines, telephone poles...It was Len who first guided my wobbly legs up the fence and onto the roof of my daddy's truck shed to fetch the choice plums from way up high in the tree. I remember stepping on overly ripe ones with my bare feet and thinking I might just prefer catching them as he threw them off the tin building. Yes, Len was my adventure, my courage and I was lost without him. On one particular summer evening we had all been called in to supper and after a plate of garden vegetables and mama's cornbread and my turn at the kitchen sink I went back out to wait for Him to join me for the last couple of hours of daylight. I got this notion that he would be so surprised if he found me in the Dogwood tree between our yards. If you are from the south you probably know that Dogwood trees don't get really big and this one was probably pretty typical in size for a full grown tree. I strained to grab the first limb and dug my dirty foot into the trunk. I pulled and tugged but I didn't get very far. I finally made it to a limb and tried to steady myself but slipped and caught the scrawny limb with my underarms. I couldn't get back up on the limb and forgetting how far I'd climbed I couldn't just let go, I wouldn't be able to hold on for long so I just did what any pitiful southern girl would do in this situation, I started to cry. Now, I'm sure I was quite a sight to my uncle who just happened to be finished with his supper and was smoking his after supper cigarette on their front porch. I'm sure he heard me first but all I knew was he came to my rescue, sort of. He stood there and asked me what I was "caring on" about...then he grabbed my arms, cigarette still hanging from the corner of his mouth and lifted me off the limb to the ground which I'm sure was only inches from my feet. I felt like such a baby. My uncle just laughed as he walked away. I looked up at that limb...right over my head. I decided then and there to only climb trees that Len picked out or maybe I'd watch from the ground.
That night when Len was sitting in the window of his bedroom and I was pressing my nose against the screen in mine he said across the yards.."My daddy's still laughing at you...you big sissy"...ah, I didn't care.

Lessons in Humility

2009-08-07T15:11:00.000-05:00

I have had "back problems" lately. I remember as a youngun thinking that was an old person's ailment. When did I become an old person? I still feel young on the inside...I don't think I'm doing so great on the outside. I've spent a good bit of time this week at the chiropractor. Don't knock it if you haven't gone into an office limping and come out skipping ( well, not really, I don't want to be thought old and insane, wait a minute maybe I do...). It really does feel better right after therapy but then I return to earth...like the balloon with a slow leak, down, down, down....ouchiwawa! God does have a sense of humor...he uses it on me all the time. It's not enough to have an aching back. No, my problem is the lowest disk on the totem pole so to speak...so when I get up I have spasms in my butt. I'm sure it's funny to my kids for me to look like I'm getting a spanking from an imaginary hand...a big hand. It's not funny at all to me but when I think about it I have to kind of chuckle. I threaten my little ones with the old "You need a spanking!" I am not allowed to use that tried and true form of discipline because the kids are still "foster" but they sure hear that they need it from time to time . Maybe God is looking at me and making that same proclamation. Maybe he is giving me what I'm really needing every time I get up from sitting too long at the computer. I hope I learn my lesson REAL SOON!

Boxes From the Attic

2009-08-04T20:00:00.000-05:00

I ran across a box in my attic. There are many, this one I sort of remembered packing many years ago. It was when we moved from our house on Vernon to the new house my mother fought so against on Dunwall. The box was one I had probably found out back of the "shopping center", I suspect this because it still wears a shipping label from JCPenney. I had amended the label once during it's long life to read "Nostalgia". I knew it held pictures from childhood, my cheerleader letter, some old notes from the only real boyfriend I had in high school, and a bunch of junk I'd collected over the years. I stuffed some papers and things from college in there before I sealed it up and hid it in Mama's attic for the day I had my own house. It made it's way back out the other day. I was looking for something in particular. A poem that would connect me to my lyric writing son. It had won an award in 1977! Honorable mention in the state poetry contest. I found the letter from the judges and the check for $1 that I never cashed.I didn't find the poem, but what I did find was more important I think. I found a part of me I didn't remember. At one time I wanted to be a writer. I did! Why hadn't I remembered that before? I wrote short stories and poetry all the time. I gleefully turned in papers when my friends moaned and groaned about having another writing assignment.
My freshman year of college I had a professor read one of my papers out loud to the class. He didn't say my name first (thank God) but I recognized the words immediately.It was about being homesick and going home. I remember that feeling you get when someone is talking about you and maybe you shouldn't be hearing it. I felt my cheeks go hot and slumped down a little in my chair. I was horrified and elated at the same time. I also remember when he said "Excellent paper" and walked over and placed it on my desk one of the girls from my dorm glared at me....she was one of my first experiences with "mean girls" at college, not much different from the ones in high school, only older and maybe meaner. She made sure my life was not perfect from that moment on. Maybe that is one of the reasons I forgot about wanting to write...maybe I related my really good experience to a really bad one....nah, I just got busy with other things. I was dating an artist. He made me feel, not so creative. I guess when you stand in the shadow of a really creative person it's easy to be intimidated. My creative bend was different but I just let my fears squash anything meaningful way back in my own personal attic.
And now I have that little part of me back. Holding that check, the letter, it all came back...that's what I had forgotten about myself, that I was supposed to write down funny things and dark things and crazy things. Talk about a major distraction!! Thirty years can be a be a real kick in the head...and a wealth of interesting material. As I finish this I can hear my lyrical son playing a "Doors" song on the guitar...very fitting.

Michael's Cookies

2009-08-04T13:22:00.001-05:00

The other night my beloved came home in a quiet mood. He is a busy man who carries the weight of the world sometimes. He has had a business for twelve years and has recently become a teacher at our high school, I am very proud of all he does. On this particular night he had slipped into some comfortable clothes and was working on some school work when I remembered I needed something at the store…I mentioned it to him and he kindly volunteered to go for me. When he returned I noticed he had bought some slice-n-bake cookies. “Had a cravin” is all he said. I smiled and went back to what I was doing. He popped his cookies into the oven and waited. One of the kids called him from upstairs. That’s when Micah got her bright idea…she thought she’d get her daddy laughing if she played a little joke on him. When the cookies were done he was back to get them out and wait for them to cool, have I mentioned his patience? He left the room for another minute and Micah went to work. She emptied the cookie sheet of all but the crumbs of two cookies. She then went to the front door and opened and closed it…she made a rather loud comment about how those were Daddy’s cookies and they better leave him some and then went to the back door, opened and closed it. She was certain her daddy heard all of this. We listened from another room when he went into the kitchen. We waited for him to yell or something…but all we heard was the refrigerator open and shut then silence. My heart sank. I knew this was not going to be funny. When we peeked around the corner my sweet husband was standing at the stove eating the crumbs left from his cookies. He wasn’t going to say a word. Micah said, “Dad! What are you doing?!”, he responded “Eating my cookies”. Of course we both wanted to cry! I felt like a jerk for going along with the joke. He thought the boys had walked though the house, devoured the cookies and he was just left with the crumbs…what a prize I have in him….Dear Lord, please let him live at least one day longer than me.

Cluttered and Creative/Neat and Orderly

2009-08-04T12:50:00.000-05:00

I am not by nature an organized person. My right brainedness can’t line things up mathematically or order things alphabetically. Heck, I’m even a mess in the library. If it were up to me the cookbooks would be all stacked somewhere between “g” for good eats and “y” for yuck. The master bathroom in my first house didn’t have a laundry hamper…the floor did the job and clothing was washed in order of need, not just when they were dirty. No, I’ve never had the accusation of “neat nick” slung my way. I am, however, drawn to those personalities like mosquitoes are drawn to my lily white legs in the summer. From my earliest memories my best friends have always been “cleanies” .Take my very first BFF, my cousin Len. He would help me clean and organize my playhouse. How did we know he was destined to be an incredible interior designer? Well, I knew because he could arrange a box of toys and dolls to look like a Macy’s Christmas window in under two minutes and that was at six years old! Then, my friend Kathy, she was the one who was a little older and taught me oh so much about life. My mama would put down the law about me going anywhere on Saturday before I got my room cleaned up. Kathy would laugh and say come on, I’ll help you, and she would proceed to work circles around me as I stood there watching in amazement holding my pillow with the Donnie Osmond cover. I was not lazy, I was clueless!
How is it that some people just seem to come into this world with a sense of where things should go? I don’t get that. Unfortunately, I had no gene to pass on to my children. A good friend was lamenting the other day about her child with OCD tendencies. She said his things had to be “just so”, I told her I’d trade him for two of mine….the thought of having just one in a house with seven people who would whip the rest of us into shape was overwhelming! Of course a trade would have been impossible, we would have surely sent the poor kid screaming into the night, needing a lifetime of therapy.
My two grown daughters seem to have acquired a taste of the neat life. They are much better housekeepers than me, like I said they don’t have it in their genes, maybe it comes from shear will to not be overtaken by dust bunnies. But, this is not really a housekeeping issue. It’s a brain issue. I am creative. I love colorful and whimsical and cheery. To this day my mother’s favorite word for my home is “loud”, and she’s not referring to the noise level. My kitchen is “Hello Yellow” with every color of the rainbow stuffed in. How I’ve survived twenty years of white cabinetry I do not know. When we replaced our kitchen floor several years ago my sweet brother in law asked me what I wanted in laminate….my response was, “Got anything the color of dirt”. I was dead serious, he knew it. I now have “faux” terra cotta tiling, that way I beat the outside world to the punch.
Once when I was in college (where I minored in Home Economics…and no, they didn’t offer a class in general housekeeping, I checked every year.) I was involved in a campus ministry. I had a mentor who meant well but bless her heart just couldn’t get it through her head that I was not likely to conform to her sub-religion and worship at the alter of “organization”. She tried to convince me that “Cleanliness was next to godliness” by arguing that God was a God of order! Well, that much is true. But he’s also the Creator!!! He doesn’t make the leaves on the trees all equal in size or shape. He doesn’t line the clouds up or make rivers run in straight lines. His order runs the Universe and it is whimsical and colorful. At the heart of every thing created he’s there. People who dispute this, that God is in all things must have missed that verse in Matthew where Jesus asks us why we worry about what we’ll eat or wear. He tells us that his Father cares for the little birds and dresses the lilies of the field. Being a flower child myself I relate to this. I know God lives in me. He is the God of order, but he’s also the God of the creative. He loves my neat freak friends just as much as he loves me. I’ve stopped beating myself up because I can’t be like them. In fifty years, if he hasn’t heard my prayer to change me into an organized person it must mean he has other, more important things to do in me. I love that he’s drawn me to people like this…they are still helping me get my house picked up so I can go play. I guess some things never change.

School Days

2009-07-28T21:46:00.000-05:00

In 1966 I lived in a bubble. Not a real bubble, a figurative bubble. I was on the brink of seven when school started at Pepperell elementary. My daddy thought it was some kind of smear on the family name for me to be two short months away from a "big ol' seven year old just now going to real school". I had gone to "Miss Sue's" kindergarten at the Baptist church the year before and I thought it was pretty real. I kind of liked having one of the first birthdays of the school year and the fact that it was really close to Halloween made it even more fun. I remember those first few mornings outside the school waiting for the set of red double doors to open with Mr Mason, principal standing guard. This school housed first-sixth grade and the big kids were really big. My cousins, who lived next door to us went to Pepperell too. My friend from church Kathy was there but she was a second grader so she had sage wisdom as far as I was concerned.
One of the best things about first grade and Pepperell elementary was getting to ride a school bus. I felt like I was really old when I marched out with the other students each day to climb on the big "cheese wagon". I was secretly terrified I would get on the wrong one but as long as my cousins and Kathy were already there I was fine. I experienced my first memory of terror on this bus. There were sixth grade boys on our route. They were mean. I had visions of one of them sneaking into my house at night to smother me with my pillow. I think I overheard older girls talking about these boys doing mean things to little kids and I just knew they had me marked for violence. Truth was, they probably didn't even know I was there. One of the "older boys" grew up to be one of the sweetest men I know. God did a work, that's all I can say.
My first grade teacher was Miss Boyd. She was really sweet. I'm sure I wasn't her pet but she liked me. I wasn't a really great student (ever) but I did my best...things outside the classroom were so much more interesting...My friend Elaine for instance, who was a budding country music star, who had more sob stories than I had Barbies. She was what I would recognize today as a neurotic....hypochondriac. She was sick all the time accept when she had a singing engagement. She literally kept us entertained with her throw up stories. She would tell us about her mama and daddy waiting on her hand and foot, while she vomited into a dishpan...I kept thinking about my mama washing turnip greens in our dishpans and felt a little nauseous myself. I didn't like the idea of being sick to get attention. I would go to extremes not to be sick, I might miss something at school or on the bus.
I suppose I was something of a timid child. I didn't have the self-confidence of Elaine or the wisdom of Kathy but around the middle of October I had something all together my own...a nomination...for Halloween Queen. This was a big deal. I don't have any idea how the nomination was made, who voted or how any of it happened but I was in a real pageant. There were two girl representatives from each of the two first grades and two boys...the older grades were participating too and I think they actually had Kings and Queens from each grade I don't really remember that. I do remember it was a fund raiser and we had to actually collect money for the event. My daddy didn't like the idea of his child "begging" for donations so my mother came up with a crafty idea to help me win. Bless her heart, she probably should have just gone to the bank and cleaned out her modest savings. It would have ended up costing her less and would have been much less trouble. She decided I would go door to door in our neighborhood selling her homemade Divinity candy. If you've never had the pleasure of this heavenly goodness I'm truly sad for you. It's basically sugar and corn syrup (which is basically more sugar) and egg whites, little clouds of perfection on wax paper. Mama made batches and batches and I sold them til I couldn't stand the sight of another front door. We also sold Divinity at the beauty shop, the post office, the department store, and even to the employees at the Big Apple grocery store. My bus driver bought three bags at a time. My teacher brought me home from school one day to get an order. Mama was on to something. As the big night approached the teachers in the hall started smiling at me and talking to me for the first time...even Mr Mason was pleasant when I came in from the bus. I think one time he actually winked at me. I continued to bring in my money in jars to deposit for the cause. I'm not sure what the cause was at the school, but my mama's cause was to win her baby a crown! Finally the Saturday before Halloween arrived. I had a hair appointment, my first bouffant! I wore a beautiful dress with a blue velvet bodice and an organza skirt with crinolines that itched. I had a little blue coat that went with the dress and black patent leather shoes. I was the fanciest thing I'd ever seen standing there in the bathroom mirror. It sure didn't look like me but for that I was truly thankful. I was snaggle toothed and freckled and could have passed for the little girl on My Three Son's twin...on any other day, but not tonight, tonight I was beautiful. I took my place on stage next to the boy representative from my class and hoped I wouldn't pee in my pretty dress, I also hoped my mama wouldn't see my knees knocking together and ruin all her hard work. When the winner was named I was surprised....it was me, but I was still surprised. I was happy for my class and my mama but I felt sorry for the other kid who didn't win. I got a cardboard crown covered with aluminum foil and little stones from gumball rings. It was pretty for a seven year old. I don't remember anything else about that night except thinking that it would have been okay with me if the other girl had won. I suppose I was an ungrateful child. I should have reveled in the victory more. I hope my mother's feelings weren't hurt. We saved the pretty dress. I still have it hanging in my closet. I guess I learned that competition was just not my thing. I never entered anything like that again and although I was nominated for homecoming queen years later at my tiny high school I had no sights on winning, I was not a fancy girl, I was a mediocre student, who just liked to have fun and ride school buses. When Jana's name was called that night I was surprised, but not disappointed, I thought Terri would win. Mama smiled and clapped from the stands. I wonder if she thought about that blue dress or divinity or my first grade year. I know I didn't.

2009-07-28T21:45:00.001-05:00