Sitting here next to the window, I'm watching at one end of the table Michael fillet his first deer kill and at the other end, Melody using Madalynn's new Easy Bake Oven. She never got one and is more than happy to assist Madalynn in making "goodies" (although she's spent most of the time scooting her out of the way ;) Mike is sitting on the exercise ball downstairs playing Wii Football with Macklynn. Miranda is on her way home from work and Megan has been back in Georgia since the wee hours of Monday morning. Mom, Dad, and Maggie left for home before noon today. Now, I'm trying to make the transition, which I never do well, from full throttle to idle. I don't even want to fool with decoration removal. I don't want to go in another store. (Besides, we have or have had 1 of almost everything.) I don't want to wear make-up for a few days. I want to keep on the new Hound's Tooth robe the kids gave me and eat peanut M & Ms out of the pocket. (We always accumulate M & Ms as gifts; imagine that! ;)
I can't claim that I've had anything but fun over the last week. We've watched some good movies, had good food and lots of laughs. Mike, Michael, and McKala have been hunting 4 times on a friend's 300+ acres and as they were out again yesterday, Mom and I sat in the rocking chairs on the front porch shooting the breeze, while the towels blew in it and the little people played in it. I can't claim exhaustion because I get a lot of help. However, my mind needs to rest.
Last week I wrote a story as a status that didn't do it justice. Mike came out of the International dealer's shop talking with a kind of short, gray haired black man. They finally walked over to my window to show me the gash under his " 'boggin". He recounted the morning that he asked a 19 year old at the shelter, where he volunteers 4 nights a week in the winter months, to straighten his bed. Instead of making his bed, he unscrewed the handle off the plunger and beat him with it. When the gray haired man said he didn't want the elders of the church to know for fear of the program's demise, I started searching for his name behind whatever was in his shirt pocket ...Joe, a man who had been homeless himself for a while and was taken in there ...and the best I can tell, reformed. Of course, the church authorites had to find out because he required plenty of stitches. When he said they told him they would pray for him, but he demanded they pray for the young man who'd had no guidance, I knew by the look in his eyes that he meant it. I had my sunglasses on, so it was easy to cry and I did so much so that my neck was wet.
The next day Mike took me with him to get a Sam's membership. I wore the 10 pound raccoon fur coat he gave me for my 40th birthday. It was far too hot for it, but we made a pair - him and his PETA (People for the Eating of Tasty Animals) T-Shirt on. We got some good deals, but most importantly Mike put his personal touch on gift giving for the children. I had limited presents to stockings, but he wasn't here for any input on them. He gave serious thought to each child's likings and was frugal in doing so! That night Megan arrived and after the rounds of hugs, she came downstairs with her wrapping paper and gifts. I'm not sure if she went overboard because she thought I went underboard, but she not only bought the new Wii Just Dance for all, but also something special for each one. It began when she called me a month ago after she had an idea. It came to her that since McKala had lost 3 of her 4 calves that she wouldn't have the money she planned for to purchase things she needed for working at the summerlong camp this year. It sounds over the top, but the pair of sandals she needed for support and to avoid blisters are $100 Chacos. Megan got them for her. It far exceeded what she intended to spend, but she did what she thought was right. It makes me smile now thinking about it. Anyway, we wrapped together until almost 4 am. Times like those can't be planned.
Christmas Eve we ate for the first time all together at our new table and chairs. Christmas morning there was an abundance of presents just because of sheer numbers and the fact that the kids had drawn names and gave ultra consideration to getting the most bang for the buck. I was really impressed with the personalization. If anything is fun about shopping, it's coming up on a gift that you're sure the other person will endear. The kids, even ...or maybe especially the boys, have learned this art.
We were having such a big time with gifts and stories about finding them that we forgot the time and missed the opportunity to ready for church. We haven't been all together to church in forever, so I felt pretty bad about that. Instead, we made hot chocolate and put in "The Help", another thing Megan bought us. We thoroughly enjoyed all of it. Miranda made a big pot of our Cajon Summer Sausage and Beans. Upon finishing, we remembered that I'd told Mrs. Redmond, the 93 year old lady my pig likes to visit, that we'd come for a visit. We threw on presentable clothes and it's a good thing because much of her family was still there including her grandson, who as we found out later is a 30 year old single lawyer. The girls lined up, when we walked up on him standing with his grandmother,like a scene from "Pride and Prejudice". I couldn't control the grin that crept up, so I turned my head.
He came downstairs once more to bid her goodbye, asked names again, and told us his sister upstairs knew us. Turns out she was the head lifeguard at the pool where we spent our summers in the mountains. (She'd been so kind to McKala that McKala had bought her a gift.) Too, she's a coordinator for Operation Christmas Child's Shoebox Ministry, where the kids had been called back to work 3 days prior. The chances that we'd be standing in her grandmother's house together seem pretty slim. :)
I can't remember much of Monday, but Tuesday Mom, Dad, and my 4 year old niece, Maggie got here. I was concerned about the visit since my brother's choices have a become a sore spot between us. Mom and Dad persevered and were entirely pleasant, despite the contentious conversations we had on Monday. Oh yeah! That's what I did most of Monday.
They gave me a Sonic toothbrush, something the Periodontist said is mandatory. And that's what I told Mike while we were at Sam's and he abruptly told me I didn't need one. We nearly got in an argument over it ...but all is forgiven now. Night before last, I put toothpaste on to use it for the first time. I turned it on and it slung toothpaste all over the place, in my hair, on the floor. I was already giggling at how stupid I was, when I put it on the back of my teeth and laughed out loud. If you have one, you'll know what I mean. If you don't, you should get one. If you recall how as a child how it tickled to have the roof of your mouth brushed, you'll appreciate the feeling.
While they were here, Dad read the blog I wrote about him. I wasn't sure he approved. He said it was weird reading a story about himself, but that it was fair. The thing that he pulled out of it all is that, "I like him." That was all the approval I needed. They've gone back home today. They left the smoked turkey he cooked and brought, the can of coffee she always leaves, and new memories of hunting, cooking, and playing together. I'm just gonna ponder on all that for a time, while my engine cools off and I return to plain ole Michelle. I hope you have the time to do the same; pondering on being "Michelle" is pretty awesome right now ;) ...lol.
Thursday, December 29, 2011
Sunday, December 18, 2011
Love It or Hate It, Here I Am
It's awful for you guys when I have a span of silence and decide to write it all in one sitting. I recently posted on Facebook that "I'm bad". It set alarms off in people who care for me AND ones who don't think I should utter such things when I consider myself to be "a new creation". My perspective was that I had lay in bed that morning almost afraid to move because of all I had to "be" that day. I don't want to cause people doubt by my honesty. I want them to know that we are all tempted by the same things. Because I am a "believer" does not put me in a realm of unattainable status of living. Anyone can have it by receiving God's grace and can probably pull off "living" better than I do. Because I'm a stay at home mom and teacher of 7 children does not classify me as a guru of piety or virtue.
An example of my shortcomings is the blog I started last week (on paper but never transferred to the computer): "I'm standing in the window in an oversized shirt with mismatched pants, with one leg still unshaven, rough feet with aging polish on my nails, hair hanging lifelessly, and blemished skin. Out of place things are sprinkled all over the yard. Ordinarily, I'd fuss at the kids and send them out ...but 'the outdoors' is calling ME with its odd warm weather of December. I love winter - fancy gloves, fuzzy boots, flaming fires, and flannel sheets. With all the cover, it's easy to forget how my body is losing tone and kemptness."
I've gone back and forth as to the benefit of writing about my journey to physical health. To those who are fit, I must seem like an epic fail. To those who are in my shoes, I don't want to offer excuse, only recognition of the facts. I'd decided at some point to just be quiet until I made some progress. I'm learning that stability IS progress. Anytime we deviate from God's script, there is realistically a time to plateau/remain steadfast before a slow return to normal. After all I've learned, it's tempting to rely on natural remedies like coconut oil, cayenne pepper, and cider vinegar. While I'll continue incorporating these into daily recipes, I don't want to go the "magic ingredient route" and for one reason only. (I also refuse to remove the "tree of the knowledge of good and evil"/tempting food. Removing it means not dealing with it.) When I accomplish this (well overdue) task, I want to share that it was by discipline and the reliance of every meal, including the size of it, on my Father.
The dessert buffet Friday night did not lure me, proving that I'm not "thick" because I love junk. I could've filled my plate over and over with good old-fashioned food. Sugar is not a draw for me and I didn't refill my plate. That's why this morning I was surprised when I got on the scales to see an extra pound. I give and take at least 3 pounds for water retention, but this was above and beyond. Man, this "losing" thing is gonna be harder than I anticipated. The great thing is that "food" no longer "speaks" to me when I'm upset. So, this year has not been for null. Something has been changed ...my mind.
Now, to change the "minds" of the children. The reason I said in that "status" that I am "struggling with the same things" as I was this time last year is because I AM. I was admitting that it's ridiculous that I mire around in things that have already been conquered for me through the sacrifice of Christ. Some will default to the "Nobody's Perfect" stance, but I just can't resolve myself to that. Faith is about growing and becoming less self consumed. The more we stay bogged down - the more self absorbed we are and rendered USELESS to a desperate society. The adversary glories in our confusion and luke warmness. He glories in the TIME we waste and the RESOURCES we squander.
While I'm "at it", I'll squeeze in the "talking points" of another line of thoughts I've had since the "Halloween Has Its Last Hoorah". These "revolutionary" ideas are hardly mine to start with and they aren't even "new" to me. This almost quarter of century I've been married and parenting has brought to me plenty of conviction. I may have been at home, in the woods, and quiet ...but I was everlearning from the Creator himself and the people who have dared to be "different" by detailing their own convictions so that others didn't have to "go it alone".
You ask where in the Bible does it say NOT to observe this and that? I answer that I've been "dealt with" over the years and was "shown" that there are no "good" witches, so one of the earliest things I did was rid our home of entertainment that portrayed wizardry as anything but blasphemy. That means the "Wizard of Oz" did not survive but "Snow White" did. It also means that "horror" movies (which I never appreciated to begin with) get no favor. Not only should fear be reserved to God, but somewhere in the world at some point in time, the "horror" has played out, most likely to a child, and I can not and will not glorify it by spending into the industry.
"Luck", I just don't believe in it; St. Patrick's Day is drummed up these days for drunkenness anyway, so, no, I don't observe it. I've already stated my distain for the The Easter Bunny and the list continues. So much of what we do is mindless tradition. We don't even know why we do it. When we find out, we sugarcoat it with nonsense. If we stuck with tradition, slavery would still be in place, coliseum murder spectacles would still exist, women would be treated the way Muslims would have it, children might even still work in factories. "Tradition" in and of itself is a bogus reason for carrying on. Contradiction is prevalant, down to reading the easy versions of the Bible, yet stressing in school the articulation of Shakespeare's dialect. All I'm asking is that we search our hearts, and God's, for why we do what we do. So, when you tuck your sweeties into bed Christmas Eve, ask yourself if their thoughts are consumed with the miracle of a baby boy or are they barely contained by the idea of what the morning holds in gifts for the family. I don't think we're as good at letting things coexist as we claim.
Don't get me wrong. I love evergreens, I love lights, I love warmth and cinnamon floating in the air, I love songs, I love pretty paper, I LOVE snow, I love winter activities altogether. There IS a catch in that ...that we grow perilously close to worshipping the created and not the Creator, as we observe and engage the seasons.
Speaking of the seasons leads me back to my overview of the year as we enter a new one. I weigh the same and where that gets me is "not sexy". Advertising abounds for "be yourself, love yourself", but "overweight" means we've had "more than our share" and are putting a load on our frames that was never intended, so I will not resign myself to it. For those ladies and some girls (which I do not wish to be or to be called, a "girl") who would say, "He should love me anyway!" Well, he could have a comeback with not taking a shower for a week and say you should love HIM anyway. What makes the sense of sight less important than the sense of smell? You can't laugh that one away. "Fat" isn't sexy because it isn't "healthy"; it's that simple. AND I've noticed that when I lose control of my eating, I lose control of my mouth altogether. You know what I mean: grumpy and defensive ....a disobedient daughter.
I lost sight of the kids a few paragraphs back but I'm not much of a mother/leader/teacher/central commander when I'm making my own way, smothering in my own pettiness. That's the snag of sin: when we're hung up in our own, we lose perspective and confidence to lead the pack. Here the "pack" would be Harpers, who still haven't attained the personal accountability goal I've deemed paramount. Just now, I went to dress for a Christmas play and found wrapping paper strewn all over our bed. I admire the initiative that one had to wrap gifts for me, but why is it okay to leave a mess? One of them was told to pick stuff up all over the bathroom after the aquarium exchange, and it was barely touched. Things like this seem trivial; but to a mother who has to persistently remind, it rubs a sore, raw spot.
They have gained much humility. They make a rare complaint that it's eggs, peanut butter, or tuna again until I can buy groceries. They're okay with a couple pairs of jeans and shoes and a little something to wear in church settings. What do you "take away" from someone who only participates in wholesome activities? If the transgression is severe enough, of course, you don't let them go. Mike gets so frustrated that he says, "Don't take them anywhere until they get it right." In theory, he's got a point. In reality, being involved makes them who they are and will be AND punishes ones who aren't necessarily part of the problem.
The bickering and messiness is a result of what I've tolerated. In my juggling act, they get the last laugh. I am 100% convinced of the Bible's method of training and discipline. I thank the writings of Mike and Debbie Pearl for solidifying it over the years. So, not only must I make sure our teenagers are preparing for the battle of their futures, including the dull work of putting proper names to things they've had knowledge of for years, but also not overlooking the stages of our "wee" ones. It is terribly easy to get entangled in investments to the older ones, while dismissing the immediate issues of the little ones. BALANCE, Michelle, BALANCE. In times of flagrant, willful rebellion, spank the young ones so that they remember it for a long time. Work the older ones, 'til they can taste what they've done. Be ready with a smile, a sincere one, when it's all over.
For the household: Sleep matters. Mail should be sorted and put away immediately; same goes for laundry. Keeping the house and car clean, and I mean "all the way" down, has to be upheld. The Bible and exercise need their time every single day. ANYTHING is better that NOTHING. Does it sound impossible? I think not. In rhythm and harmony, it's attainable. Mike is right, that designated jobs "get in the way" of completion because a link is bound to fail somewhere. THAT is where personal accountability plays out; filling in the gaps; voluntarily replacing the missing link. We aren't there yet and their training won't ever be complete until we are.
It would be easy to look at the calendar for 2012 as a clean slate, but the squares are already dotted with a concert, The National Championship game ;), a local ski trip that was supposed to "be" Christmas, a couple of birthday celebrations, and basketball practices. There will be needs and sicknesses within the community and family, soooo I have to be "real" this year. I have to reinstate getting the basics done in spite of, and even because of, the windfall of activity. I'd call the following a resolution but that would be a disservice to the pledge of a constant, unwavering desire to warm the Spirit of God. Here it is:
I'll continue letting loose with TRUTH and holding fast to FAITH;
LOSING weight by TRUSTING my designer;
BREAKING the mold and REMAKING love in a 23 year marriage;
supporting a self employment COMEBACK from bad choices and near death;
reemphasizing the formation of kids who CAN and WILL reform America;
exploring the RICHNESS in everybody and everything I pass;
going "OLD SCHOOL" but digging past RELIGION and TRADITION to find GOD;
THANKING Him continuously, silently and from the rooftops,
for the CHRISTCHILD
who loves me, a restless mess.
If there is only one thing I've learned in my 40th year, it's that procrastination is no longer a viable option. It's do or die. God willing, I have half a year to get something phenomenol done before I'm 41. I need your agreement in prayer. Don't we all pull for a win in the corner of good versus evil? I just don't want to be the evil one. Some would say that's impossible if I'm saved. I say my will is still mine and very strong and if I don't strip my soul before the Lord, I may have an eternal home but ...I can't go on knowing I didn't return gratefulness to Him.
An example of my shortcomings is the blog I started last week (on paper but never transferred to the computer): "I'm standing in the window in an oversized shirt with mismatched pants, with one leg still unshaven, rough feet with aging polish on my nails, hair hanging lifelessly, and blemished skin. Out of place things are sprinkled all over the yard. Ordinarily, I'd fuss at the kids and send them out ...but 'the outdoors' is calling ME with its odd warm weather of December. I love winter - fancy gloves, fuzzy boots, flaming fires, and flannel sheets. With all the cover, it's easy to forget how my body is losing tone and kemptness."
I've gone back and forth as to the benefit of writing about my journey to physical health. To those who are fit, I must seem like an epic fail. To those who are in my shoes, I don't want to offer excuse, only recognition of the facts. I'd decided at some point to just be quiet until I made some progress. I'm learning that stability IS progress. Anytime we deviate from God's script, there is realistically a time to plateau/remain steadfast before a slow return to normal. After all I've learned, it's tempting to rely on natural remedies like coconut oil, cayenne pepper, and cider vinegar. While I'll continue incorporating these into daily recipes, I don't want to go the "magic ingredient route" and for one reason only. (I also refuse to remove the "tree of the knowledge of good and evil"/tempting food. Removing it means not dealing with it.) When I accomplish this (well overdue) task, I want to share that it was by discipline and the reliance of every meal, including the size of it, on my Father.
The dessert buffet Friday night did not lure me, proving that I'm not "thick" because I love junk. I could've filled my plate over and over with good old-fashioned food. Sugar is not a draw for me and I didn't refill my plate. That's why this morning I was surprised when I got on the scales to see an extra pound. I give and take at least 3 pounds for water retention, but this was above and beyond. Man, this "losing" thing is gonna be harder than I anticipated. The great thing is that "food" no longer "speaks" to me when I'm upset. So, this year has not been for null. Something has been changed ...my mind.
Now, to change the "minds" of the children. The reason I said in that "status" that I am "struggling with the same things" as I was this time last year is because I AM. I was admitting that it's ridiculous that I mire around in things that have already been conquered for me through the sacrifice of Christ. Some will default to the "Nobody's Perfect" stance, but I just can't resolve myself to that. Faith is about growing and becoming less self consumed. The more we stay bogged down - the more self absorbed we are and rendered USELESS to a desperate society. The adversary glories in our confusion and luke warmness. He glories in the TIME we waste and the RESOURCES we squander.
While I'm "at it", I'll squeeze in the "talking points" of another line of thoughts I've had since the "Halloween Has Its Last Hoorah". These "revolutionary" ideas are hardly mine to start with and they aren't even "new" to me. This almost quarter of century I've been married and parenting has brought to me plenty of conviction. I may have been at home, in the woods, and quiet ...but I was everlearning from the Creator himself and the people who have dared to be "different" by detailing their own convictions so that others didn't have to "go it alone".
You ask where in the Bible does it say NOT to observe this and that? I answer that I've been "dealt with" over the years and was "shown" that there are no "good" witches, so one of the earliest things I did was rid our home of entertainment that portrayed wizardry as anything but blasphemy. That means the "Wizard of Oz" did not survive but "Snow White" did. It also means that "horror" movies (which I never appreciated to begin with) get no favor. Not only should fear be reserved to God, but somewhere in the world at some point in time, the "horror" has played out, most likely to a child, and I can not and will not glorify it by spending into the industry.
"Luck", I just don't believe in it; St. Patrick's Day is drummed up these days for drunkenness anyway, so, no, I don't observe it. I've already stated my distain for the The Easter Bunny and the list continues. So much of what we do is mindless tradition. We don't even know why we do it. When we find out, we sugarcoat it with nonsense. If we stuck with tradition, slavery would still be in place, coliseum murder spectacles would still exist, women would be treated the way Muslims would have it, children might even still work in factories. "Tradition" in and of itself is a bogus reason for carrying on. Contradiction is prevalant, down to reading the easy versions of the Bible, yet stressing in school the articulation of Shakespeare's dialect. All I'm asking is that we search our hearts, and God's, for why we do what we do. So, when you tuck your sweeties into bed Christmas Eve, ask yourself if their thoughts are consumed with the miracle of a baby boy or are they barely contained by the idea of what the morning holds in gifts for the family. I don't think we're as good at letting things coexist as we claim.
Don't get me wrong. I love evergreens, I love lights, I love warmth and cinnamon floating in the air, I love songs, I love pretty paper, I LOVE snow, I love winter activities altogether. There IS a catch in that ...that we grow perilously close to worshipping the created and not the Creator, as we observe and engage the seasons.
Speaking of the seasons leads me back to my overview of the year as we enter a new one. I weigh the same and where that gets me is "not sexy". Advertising abounds for "be yourself, love yourself", but "overweight" means we've had "more than our share" and are putting a load on our frames that was never intended, so I will not resign myself to it. For those ladies and some girls (which I do not wish to be or to be called, a "girl") who would say, "He should love me anyway!" Well, he could have a comeback with not taking a shower for a week and say you should love HIM anyway. What makes the sense of sight less important than the sense of smell? You can't laugh that one away. "Fat" isn't sexy because it isn't "healthy"; it's that simple. AND I've noticed that when I lose control of my eating, I lose control of my mouth altogether. You know what I mean: grumpy and defensive ....a disobedient daughter.
I lost sight of the kids a few paragraphs back but I'm not much of a mother/leader/teacher/central commander when I'm making my own way, smothering in my own pettiness. That's the snag of sin: when we're hung up in our own, we lose perspective and confidence to lead the pack. Here the "pack" would be Harpers, who still haven't attained the personal accountability goal I've deemed paramount. Just now, I went to dress for a Christmas play and found wrapping paper strewn all over our bed. I admire the initiative that one had to wrap gifts for me, but why is it okay to leave a mess? One of them was told to pick stuff up all over the bathroom after the aquarium exchange, and it was barely touched. Things like this seem trivial; but to a mother who has to persistently remind, it rubs a sore, raw spot.
They have gained much humility. They make a rare complaint that it's eggs, peanut butter, or tuna again until I can buy groceries. They're okay with a couple pairs of jeans and shoes and a little something to wear in church settings. What do you "take away" from someone who only participates in wholesome activities? If the transgression is severe enough, of course, you don't let them go. Mike gets so frustrated that he says, "Don't take them anywhere until they get it right." In theory, he's got a point. In reality, being involved makes them who they are and will be AND punishes ones who aren't necessarily part of the problem.
The bickering and messiness is a result of what I've tolerated. In my juggling act, they get the last laugh. I am 100% convinced of the Bible's method of training and discipline. I thank the writings of Mike and Debbie Pearl for solidifying it over the years. So, not only must I make sure our teenagers are preparing for the battle of their futures, including the dull work of putting proper names to things they've had knowledge of for years, but also not overlooking the stages of our "wee" ones. It is terribly easy to get entangled in investments to the older ones, while dismissing the immediate issues of the little ones. BALANCE, Michelle, BALANCE. In times of flagrant, willful rebellion, spank the young ones so that they remember it for a long time. Work the older ones, 'til they can taste what they've done. Be ready with a smile, a sincere one, when it's all over.
For the household: Sleep matters. Mail should be sorted and put away immediately; same goes for laundry. Keeping the house and car clean, and I mean "all the way" down, has to be upheld. The Bible and exercise need their time every single day. ANYTHING is better that NOTHING. Does it sound impossible? I think not. In rhythm and harmony, it's attainable. Mike is right, that designated jobs "get in the way" of completion because a link is bound to fail somewhere. THAT is where personal accountability plays out; filling in the gaps; voluntarily replacing the missing link. We aren't there yet and their training won't ever be complete until we are.
It would be easy to look at the calendar for 2012 as a clean slate, but the squares are already dotted with a concert, The National Championship game ;), a local ski trip that was supposed to "be" Christmas, a couple of birthday celebrations, and basketball practices. There will be needs and sicknesses within the community and family, soooo I have to be "real" this year. I have to reinstate getting the basics done in spite of, and even because of, the windfall of activity. I'd call the following a resolution but that would be a disservice to the pledge of a constant, unwavering desire to warm the Spirit of God. Here it is:
I'll continue letting loose with TRUTH and holding fast to FAITH;
LOSING weight by TRUSTING my designer;
BREAKING the mold and REMAKING love in a 23 year marriage;
supporting a self employment COMEBACK from bad choices and near death;
reemphasizing the formation of kids who CAN and WILL reform America;
exploring the RICHNESS in everybody and everything I pass;
going "OLD SCHOOL" but digging past RELIGION and TRADITION to find GOD;
THANKING Him continuously, silently and from the rooftops,
for the CHRISTCHILD
who loves me, a restless mess.
If there is only one thing I've learned in my 40th year, it's that procrastination is no longer a viable option. It's do or die. God willing, I have half a year to get something phenomenol done before I'm 41. I need your agreement in prayer. Don't we all pull for a win in the corner of good versus evil? I just don't want to be the evil one. Some would say that's impossible if I'm saved. I say my will is still mine and very strong and if I don't strip my soul before the Lord, I may have an eternal home but ...I can't go on knowing I didn't return gratefulness to Him.
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
High Purpose in The High Country
The real reason we made the climb was to get to Samaritan's Purse. Megan began our family's relationship with them some 7 years ago. The Operation Christmas Child boxes are plenty of fun to fill and they did (for preteen boys lately because they get fewer donations), but there are big boxes to put all those shoe boxes in. The original distribution center is in Boone, NC and there are more than enough volunteers from all over the eastern United States (so many that there was a small window of time to sign ours up in August), but the kids have gotten so big that their strong backs are in demand. For hours, they packed and moved.
There are apparently people who have been on site for disbursements to share unique and inspiring stories, like a boy who'd gotten a gown accidentally and sweetly gave it to his sister who didn't own a dress, and a boy who got a hammer and gave it to his Dad who desperately needed one. There was even a lady who lost her $10K ring in a box while packing at the center last year. Imagine the delight of that child! There are lots of other stories and pictures, but what hit closest was when they were told that the delivery of the boxes which they were handling had been halted because the central African country's American embassy was under physical threat and the missionaries were evacuated. The gravity of living in such instability suddenly made hard work seem easy, I'm sure.
The minimum age to help out is 14, so the younger ones and I set out shopping. I don't know how long it's been since Dad started divvying up money for the kids to purchase gifts, but it became especially important 4 years ago, when all hell broke loose with that 8 mm kidney stone of Mike's, and we were unable to pay them for their extra work. Speaking of health, today Mike had his yearly check of the aortic kevlar graft with his Vascular Surgeon at Wake Forest. Thank God, everything was clear. Dr. Geary (1 of top 10 nationwide) mentioned too that one of the dozens of residents, who witnessed the bypass, wrote an article in a medical journal about the circumstances. He said he'd try to get the names of it all and pass them on to us. Too bad it wasn't before the statute of limits was up for malpractice charges against the dishonest Urologist.
Or maybe not "too bad" because a lot of good has come to pass since. Even presently, the old friend I mentioned, with the deceased son, was looking for a job since he'd been laid off for months from the one he'd had for 15 years. Mike's been "looking" to make his way back up the ladder and so they decided to team drive. If all works out, they'll split and drive 2 trucks come spring. The other guy and his wife are expecting a baby then, so we'll see what's destined. The thing I like for Mike now is that it will relieve some of the loneliness that alienates him. Well, as Miranda said, assuming Mike doesn't forget him at a truck stop!
And back to Dad's money: he leaves it up to the kids how to disperse it. It's become particularly important (since we haven't made a church home to tithe to) that a big portion be devoted to someone other than family and friends. Christmas is sold as being about family blessings and togetherness and it is, but I've gotta believe that the delight of gifts to someone who truly needs them and the message they carry is better. We know that we'll hardly ever get to see that delight, even locally because of the anonymity of children in peril, but imagining is enough. So, the Asst. Director of the local children's home put together a list for our younger kids. While the big kids were working, we went to Big Lots in Watauga County. Although it doesn't look much different than any other, it's part of our old stomping ground and is an annual attraction to pick through the deals.
The first lists were likely compiled by "house" parents or foster parents. An "African" American doll was one of the requests of a 3 year old little girl. We didn't think we were going to find it (and were afraid it was because of the climate and population up there) until Melody (11) came across the beautiful Disney black princess, Tiana, soft-bodied baby doll. Then, she found the whole shebang, a matching dress up gown and shoes. And it was on; we found bath and spa treatments to accompany. The lovely thing about it all is that Melody always picked out black baby dolls for herself when she was little. She had a black friend of Strawberry Shortcake, a black Barbie, and a black Brat Doll, per request.
Madalynn (3), who'd help pick out things like a pillow pet for an 11 year old, might've seemed like she didn't comprehend what we were doing but the other day when Macklynn unknowingly was about to use pencils allotted for shoe boxes; with finger pointed, she scolded him and told him they were for kids who didn't have any! THAT is the ONLY reason I reveal any of this with a degree of comfort. BECAUSE it is never too early to instill charity. I implore you to seize the opportunity to show first hand the despair that's happening in our local and international communites. It's more than current events. Faces belong to them. Explore your resources, your talents, your strengths, your time and those of your CHILDREN! Through this early and natural process, I realized that the kids have come to EXPECT to do these things. I don't have to encourage in the least. These trips aren't about "us"; someone else is the EVENT. Too, there is a another program through Franklin Graham that makes it MORE than a festive event. We can purchase, throughout the year, farm animals and supplies to prosper their villages and to place in the arms of missionaries tools of hope.
For my own sanity and with a sleepy little girl, I fell for the idea of a movie, with the catch that they again pay their own ways. First, we came across the Pizza Hut buffet, which was an excellent deal until they finished a couple of pieces and complained that their stomachs were full of candy. I tried to make up the difference, I did ;) Adam Sandler's "Jack and Jill" was funny. I had a good time cuttin' up with my 3 little people. The 2 lt Mountain Dew we'd gotten with the pizza kept them alert and ready for our last stint, Kmart, trying to dust Wal-Mart from my shoulders.
Macklynn had some unfinished business. "His" 6 year old boy still needed a shirt, "adjustable waisted pants", and "Dr. Seuss books". He really searched through and found a jacket that was fleece lined with ultra soft material and was dead set that "he" would like it. We agreed, sped over to gather the rest of the troups, and listened to their stories all the way home, through the whiteness of the fog in the darkness, nearing midnight. I spent a miniscule amount of money for food. Gas is a necessary evil. We were out of toilet paper, Dove Soap, and milk; so we replenished. The children paid for their own candy and movie. The workers even earned shirts (and reportedly were more mannerly than some adults). So, we left with virtually no purchases for ourselves yet had an unforgettable/hopefully eternally memorable day of "getting it right". Now, we're back to algebra, dictation, recitation, and memorization ...and sweatin' the small stuff. But, believe you me, it won't get in the way of life as we're getting to know it.
(Though Mike is rarely home this time of year, he gets his hands on an "imperfect" tree now and then and finds someone who could use it. It's hardly a sacrifice for us, but the joy of the recipient is tenfold. That's what I'm talking about. We can find something that already abounds for us. We don't necessarily have to place hardship on tight budgets. Although ...as I was passing by a gift tree at the front of Wal-Mart and paused with the girls to read the tags, I spotted a charming list placed by an elderly woman ...soft spot I have. I picked it up and put it with my list, so I could pray, if it was something I should add to Mike's heavy load of financing us Harpers, while I was shopping. I was checking out and was surprised to find the necessary hanger ripped off the card. Weeellll, I took it as a sign. :) Donations of large sweat suits, stationary, stamps, and canned Cokes can be left at the door here! Otherwise, I can mark off a bottle of wine, my favorite olives, and some other things from my own "to get" lists. Most of us can and should. I don't mean to take away from the "tithe" but is your giving personal enough for you? Then, make it personal ...and find unexplicable meaning in doing so.)
Monday, November 28, 2011
It Ain't All It's Cracked Up to Be
Thanksgiving morning I went to the porch swing with my OJ and sausage, and ended up whistling with my fingers in my ears. Truth is I could've sat there like Rusty, the Beagle, taking in the temperate weather all day and not missed a thing. I had a friend tell me she doesn't "do well" with holidays. I was afraid it was some sad memory from the past; but if what she tells me is true, then I too can "live without" the chaos. The idea of just forgetting the hoopla and grilling the burgers intended for Sunday crossed my mind.
I'm ashamed to admit that my kids have their own sense of entitlement ...on Thanksgiving, no less ...nearly having a knock down drag out over the front seat of the car, just to go to the gas station with Mike. They'd tell each other what to clean and bark at whomever got in front of the TV. Maybe we haven't "fallen" far enough for them to be sweet spirited and thankful for the simple things we still have. No matter how close to the edge we've been, Mike has always provided a spacious home in good condition and a reliable vehicle. With no savings and no matter how tight it's gotten, we've found deals so as not to dress homely ...(humbly is well meaning, but does not necessitate "homely"). And by the looks of us, you know we've never gone hungry.
All "entitlement" is selfish sin. Romans 3:10, "As it is written, There is none righteous, no, not one:” All unrest is because someone is trying to usurp something from someone else, trying to level the playing field. Let's all shoot for our personal best and in so doing, SERVE our fellow man at God's personalized beckoning, the highest known calling. If my life's work, to raise up the cream of the crop, isn't panning out gold; then the ones giving their children secondary status, to anything less than their spouse and God, mean the world is surely in trouble.
A problem with big families is that there are more people to blame and to play victim to for issues that arise. The problem with being married to a traveling man is that most of the time there is no one to pass the baton to. On the other hand, Mike and I differ on timing and execution, so him in the kitchen trying to command an already bad situation is another reason I kept on swinging. I hate to keep reiterating it, but I can see why people drink ...and at the holidays ...but I finally went in and only had a shot of "Yoder's Good Health Recipe/cider vinegar and tinctures". Cooking with the kids didn't resume until lunchtime and that was okay because we had a mighty fine supper.
Megan and the older kids have gone Black Friday shopping a couple of times and I was expected to go this year. Like any new experience, it was fun, even if we did get up at 3:30 am. The first place we had to be was Bass Pro Shop ...no, not for the boys, but for the girls. The first thing they noticed was how many cute guys were there ...smart place for all kinds of shopping ;) ...but coats and boots were waiting for the picking. That's where the girls redeemed themselves. Instead of spending their Christmas money from grandparents on passing trends, they bought their own outdoor gear (high end, I might add). I consider that a sign of maturity and humility, as well as Michael's babysitting at home for us. We shopped for 8 hours, never encountering any bad behaviour.
Mike's parents were up from Georgia and waiting for us when we arrived home. They'd brought us a dining room table and chairs, which I regret that we never served them a decent meal on before they left. But, the next day was cousin Veronica's wedding, which I got so aggravated before that I made the kids go ahead and I drove separately. Then, we woke Sunday morning to 2 very sick calves. 1 of them had spent 3 weeks in recovery from the last bout of sickness, which made it all the worse because it was on the mend, getting up by itself for the first time in 3 weeks. The other was Michael's first calf to go down with something. It looked like our only resort was "putting" the down to end suffering. The Vet on call was entirely generous in suggesting that we come to his house to get medicine, although the outcome looked grim regardless of treatment. He was right. They both died an hour after we injected them.
It makes me question my decision to help the kids on their endeavor. I know my motives were pure, but was my timing right? It wasn't for lack of experience because we've done this twice before, but not with these numbers and the outbreaks of disease. After reading all that can go wrong, it makes me highly reverence the position that veterinarians put themselves in. Unlike people, animals can't communicate their ailments and are limited to the rations that we provide them, that may not always be suitable or balanced. I thought cows were hardy; "just put 'em out to pasture and they'll thrive". Even variations in temperature can set off a landmine of ill conditions for them. McKala is down to 1 cow, which is also exhibiting signs of respiratory problems, along with another 1 of Michael's.
Day after day of activity has maxxed out my stress level, and Mike is concerned that I have no interest, even in conversation, for him; but I feel a detachment from everybody and everything. I'm thankful for today, Monday, a chance to reroute my energy to basic function ...a chance to breathe and rediscover the priorities God has placed in me. I have a bzillion things we should do, but letting the kids run around in the swirling leaves before the rain sets in for a couple of days is refreshing. Letting the older ones wind down to regroup seems reasonable.
I'm thankful, too, that we have a new "used" table, that we attended a wedding and not a funeral, that cows and not children are sick, that Michael didn't have to brutally destroy the calves because they died naturally, and that December has only 2 trips and 1 appointment on the calendar. If we're to make plans, they'll be cheap and "on the fly" ...because each of us knows our boiling point and no matter the expectations placed on us, that's no place to stay. Even Jesus had His limits, knew when enough was enough, and went away from the crowds to recuperate and be with God.
I'm ashamed to admit that my kids have their own sense of entitlement ...on Thanksgiving, no less ...nearly having a knock down drag out over the front seat of the car, just to go to the gas station with Mike. They'd tell each other what to clean and bark at whomever got in front of the TV. Maybe we haven't "fallen" far enough for them to be sweet spirited and thankful for the simple things we still have. No matter how close to the edge we've been, Mike has always provided a spacious home in good condition and a reliable vehicle. With no savings and no matter how tight it's gotten, we've found deals so as not to dress homely ...(humbly is well meaning, but does not necessitate "homely"). And by the looks of us, you know we've never gone hungry.
All "entitlement" is selfish sin. Romans 3:10, "As it is written, There is none righteous, no, not one:” All unrest is because someone is trying to usurp something from someone else, trying to level the playing field. Let's all shoot for our personal best and in so doing, SERVE our fellow man at God's personalized beckoning, the highest known calling. If my life's work, to raise up the cream of the crop, isn't panning out gold; then the ones giving their children secondary status, to anything less than their spouse and God, mean the world is surely in trouble.
A problem with big families is that there are more people to blame and to play victim to for issues that arise. The problem with being married to a traveling man is that most of the time there is no one to pass the baton to. On the other hand, Mike and I differ on timing and execution, so him in the kitchen trying to command an already bad situation is another reason I kept on swinging. I hate to keep reiterating it, but I can see why people drink ...and at the holidays ...but I finally went in and only had a shot of "Yoder's Good Health Recipe/cider vinegar and tinctures". Cooking with the kids didn't resume until lunchtime and that was okay because we had a mighty fine supper.
Megan and the older kids have gone Black Friday shopping a couple of times and I was expected to go this year. Like any new experience, it was fun, even if we did get up at 3:30 am. The first place we had to be was Bass Pro Shop ...no, not for the boys, but for the girls. The first thing they noticed was how many cute guys were there ...smart place for all kinds of shopping ;) ...but coats and boots were waiting for the picking. That's where the girls redeemed themselves. Instead of spending their Christmas money from grandparents on passing trends, they bought their own outdoor gear (high end, I might add). I consider that a sign of maturity and humility, as well as Michael's babysitting at home for us. We shopped for 8 hours, never encountering any bad behaviour.
Mike's parents were up from Georgia and waiting for us when we arrived home. They'd brought us a dining room table and chairs, which I regret that we never served them a decent meal on before they left. But, the next day was cousin Veronica's wedding, which I got so aggravated before that I made the kids go ahead and I drove separately. Then, we woke Sunday morning to 2 very sick calves. 1 of them had spent 3 weeks in recovery from the last bout of sickness, which made it all the worse because it was on the mend, getting up by itself for the first time in 3 weeks. The other was Michael's first calf to go down with something. It looked like our only resort was "putting" the down to end suffering. The Vet on call was entirely generous in suggesting that we come to his house to get medicine, although the outcome looked grim regardless of treatment. He was right. They both died an hour after we injected them.
It makes me question my decision to help the kids on their endeavor. I know my motives were pure, but was my timing right? It wasn't for lack of experience because we've done this twice before, but not with these numbers and the outbreaks of disease. After reading all that can go wrong, it makes me highly reverence the position that veterinarians put themselves in. Unlike people, animals can't communicate their ailments and are limited to the rations that we provide them, that may not always be suitable or balanced. I thought cows were hardy; "just put 'em out to pasture and they'll thrive". Even variations in temperature can set off a landmine of ill conditions for them. McKala is down to 1 cow, which is also exhibiting signs of respiratory problems, along with another 1 of Michael's.
Day after day of activity has maxxed out my stress level, and Mike is concerned that I have no interest, even in conversation, for him; but I feel a detachment from everybody and everything. I'm thankful for today, Monday, a chance to reroute my energy to basic function ...a chance to breathe and rediscover the priorities God has placed in me. I have a bzillion things we should do, but letting the kids run around in the swirling leaves before the rain sets in for a couple of days is refreshing. Letting the older ones wind down to regroup seems reasonable.
I'm thankful, too, that we have a new "used" table, that we attended a wedding and not a funeral, that cows and not children are sick, that Michael didn't have to brutally destroy the calves because they died naturally, and that December has only 2 trips and 1 appointment on the calendar. If we're to make plans, they'll be cheap and "on the fly" ...because each of us knows our boiling point and no matter the expectations placed on us, that's no place to stay. Even Jesus had His limits, knew when enough was enough, and went away from the crowds to recuperate and be with God.
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
A Pumpkin for a Pig
It's 1:29 am and I just shaved my legs. Since I never show the deformity of my legs in public, I've gotten into the habit of not shaving unless I know Mike is on his way home from a trip. Lately, to survive the monthly bills, he's taking every one within reason he's offered. The problem that it creates is a disconnect between us with his increasingly erratic schedule. The problem tonight is that I was "asleep" before I was awakened and decided to bathe and shave. I've been gone all day and hadn't heard from him, so I had little notice that he'd be in at 10 pm tonight. I was already in bed propping up my ankles and fooling with the pictures from today, when he got under the covers and tried to go straight to sleep with the kids trolling about the room still. I had in mind that he'd be home tomorrow morning, so I didn't get the clue until I asked when his next departure would be. "Oh, 4 am?! Okay, kids, brush your teeth and get in bed."
I laid myself back to relax from the fullness of the day and fell fast asleep. When he practically jumped out of bed and dressed to leave 4 hours early, all I could gather is that he'd made an advance that in my drowsiness I'd dismissed. I went to the door to see why he hadn't even said goodbye and got back in the bed just in time to hear Madalynn crying. She was bent over in a familiar posture and I knew she had to pee, so I picked her up and she wet me and the floor all the way to the bathroom. That's not happened since she was much younger, so now I'm awake and clean and I have some things to say, since his phone isn't on.
Even though there was already an "event" squeezed into the busyness of the morning, I'm guessing he was back for more and when I didn't reciprocate, he got frustrated. He IS busting his can but I denounce an ugly turn back to presumption. I readily admit, and did to him in an e-mail yesterday, that I feel bad for him since I am rarely to the point yet of taking the initiative. We've come a long way in less than 2 years though. I also feel bad that the road is giving him a beating.
On my own behalf, I remind myself that the more than 4 times he's taken a step to "get out of the truck", I supported him. He wanted a partnership with a friend in a restaurant, so I backed him. "Friend" stepped out of it when booming business was too much for him. Mike wanted to join The Service when it all went belly up and I went with the flow for that too. He enlisted and soon after was hit by another car, requiring knee surgery, making the contracts null and void. The details are a blur now with childbirths and transitions but he got involved in an endeavor with another partner and was soon running 7 trucks. He, as well as his partner, made some horrendous decisions and the end came quickly. Years later, after a bad head on wreck and with 6 children, he enrolled in school (the same one Megan eventually graduated from). We didn't know how we'd survive it but were determined to take the dive. Within weeks, he had the aortic bypass and nerve damage to his hand, and it still plagues him. Needless to say, he never saw his first day of auto tech class, but I know he could just about teach it.
I believe it's time for him to take heart, to make the move out of the truck again. The days and miles and fast food and stress and age and pain have taken their toll. He knows virtually everything there is to know about trucking and with the right timing, the right financial moves, and the right support; it can be done. The economy and new government regulations are our present barriers to overcome and only God knows the direction we should move in.
He just called and says that I'm the presumptuous one and he only left because I was snoring. I'm not convinced but I don't feel as much a need to drive home my next point now. I do think the last day and a half are worthy of description though. I stood to make the case that a lot of inconvenient things have taken place but when put in the right light, they become positives. The putting in "the right light" is pivotal and is the difference between a pessimist and an optimist. I stand to say it might appear that I'm just fluttering about here and there with the kids, enjoying all life has to offer; when in reality, I'm "spinning" the difficulties into lessons.
Friday was so busy that by 1 o'clock I still hadn't washed my face. A lady showed up to say for her friend that our potbellied pig was hanging out at her dairy. I rushed in the house to throw on some jeans and yell at Michael to "come on". After speaking with our 92 year old neighbor at some length, we drove around to search. The fella working said the older man who works there had seen it and screamed in panic for them both to run to the truck because he saw "a wild boar". Now ...she's black, hairy, big, and ugly ...but she wouldn't pass for a wild boar. The image was leg slappin' funny though. We found her way out by a fenceline basking in the sun after her morning root. Michael grabbed a limb and with the help of a "heeler" dog, persuaded her to leave the pasture. He had to direct her almost a mile home and halfway she found a bush to take cover and stood in it growling so long that I decided we'd need a cattle prod. I took off to another neighbors for one and after a while saw Michael following "Rochelle" down the hill and up the driveway. The little excursion ate 3 hours of our afternoon, a slot I had big plans for.
Before long, the phone rang with the little lady saying that she hoped she hadn't been hateful. I laughed and said, "On the contrary, 'I' might've been if someone's pig had hung around my place for 5 days". She and I talked for quite a while and who knows, maybe I have a new friend? What I'm getting at is that I could've moaned and groaned about wasted time, but was it really wasted?
Saturday morning was the beginning of an anticipated day. McKala had softball practice and as I ran out to pick her and her friend up, I took Miranda's coffee cup with me forgetting she was sick. I had also forgotten that I had mounds of clothes strewn out over the car to give away. We finally got everybody uniformed up with their coats, hats, scarves and every seat filled to go back to Ashe County, our mountain home, and watch the Christmas parade. The closer we got the warmer our sentiment was, but we timed it so closely that we had to park a mile away. The big kids started out on the trek as I did everything I could to coerse Madalynn to walk faster but there really was no hope, since the sock boots she had on were sliding to and fro. We missed most of the parade trying to get to a particular vantage point, but we bumped into many different old friends on the way. Standing still, we caught the last few entries and there Macklynn stood with empty pockets, no candy to show for his visit to the parade.
We have a few favorite stores that the kids were ready to raid but first we had to get curds from the cheese factory. I didn't have enough cash for drinks; so about midway through Sallie's Emporium, I got hot with Miranda's fluffy white coat on and I volunteered to walk the mile back and get the car. Macklynn commandeered, taking in the ambience of the place as we went along. As soon as I hit the seat, my stomach was growling. Megan worked at Pizza Hut there for 2 years, so it's we feel at ease in. Apparently so did everyone else that day. I shouldn't have stayed but we had it in our minds to do so and you know how that works. Our waiter was in his own little universe and I finally gave up on stressing after he finally brought us our 2 liters. It was then I knew I would at the very least be late to the gala my very close friend had so graciously invited me to that evening, but the kids were having such a good time playing the jukebox and clowning around with Jaycie, the girl we took, that I just decided to roll with it.
Earlier in the week, I'd called Mrs. Poe, the elderly lady who lived at the bottom of our driveway, and told her we'd be up, so I couldn't go home without seeing her. Because our old house had been empty for almost 4 years since the investor took the bait for our desperate sale, we drive to see it and roam the property every chance we get. What we found was a work truck, then a man meeting us at the door. He was a Costa Rican native with a fantastic sense of humor and was glad to show us the renovation work he'd been hired to do, but walking through the rooms was bittersweet. The kids pointed out things that distinctly proved we were there. In one room, artwork was already being accumulated and it just so happened there was the print like the one I'd sold to help make the last of our house payments. I met the owner as we were leaving and was interested that he did for a living what my brother does and his wife's maiden name is Harper. "He" was interested to hear the stories of the treacherous driveway (and the Wormy Chesnut that lies beneath it).
Alas, our visit with Mrs. Poe began in her small cozy living room. After niceties were met, I had to acknowledge that I knew her son in his 40s was very recently diagnosed with Leukemia. She's 74 and still going strong, cleaning the local bank and minding herself. It's hardly fair that her baby boy could pass before she does. We left in a somber mood but as we passed the fields of Christmas trees and played some of Miranda's favorite songs by Nat King Cole and Bing Crosby, we knew the day was fine despite the setbacks. And THAT is exactly what I meant earlier. Overscheduled, sick, late, broke, uncomfortable, impatient, worried, or sad could describe any given moment of that day. However, content and grateful, pleased and polite, are options we have and will never be "happy" without choosing them. So, I could've said that Saturday stunk; but for every mishap, I was mindful of moments of cheer. Anyway, I might as well smile because if I don't, my jowls will succumb to a little more gravity.
Today is 2 days past the onslaught of this writing and Mike and I have gotten past our bump in the road. He hasn't read this yet, so I may be getting a call when he does. BUT, people respond better when I've told the entire story: good, bad, ugly, and beautiful. There is no richness or texture otherwise. I hope that God finds His intended glory in my ramblings. I hope someone out there can plug in and find a place of kinsmanship with me. The kids will have these chronicles, embarrassing as some may be. I don't know if I have anything to offer the masses, but maybe, just maybe, our story has a niche somewhere. I never have wanted much materially. There's not really anything that matches the freedom of admiring and using the majesty of God's creation. To relieve Mike of life on the road would be ...well, I believe it could "save" his life ...and allow him to relish these years before the children take flight.
I just got a call from the little old neighbor. She wants to know if we want a pumpkin to cook and we surely do, so I'll be readying to stop over :) Moments like these make it all make sense.
I laid myself back to relax from the fullness of the day and fell fast asleep. When he practically jumped out of bed and dressed to leave 4 hours early, all I could gather is that he'd made an advance that in my drowsiness I'd dismissed. I went to the door to see why he hadn't even said goodbye and got back in the bed just in time to hear Madalynn crying. She was bent over in a familiar posture and I knew she had to pee, so I picked her up and she wet me and the floor all the way to the bathroom. That's not happened since she was much younger, so now I'm awake and clean and I have some things to say, since his phone isn't on.
Even though there was already an "event" squeezed into the busyness of the morning, I'm guessing he was back for more and when I didn't reciprocate, he got frustrated. He IS busting his can but I denounce an ugly turn back to presumption. I readily admit, and did to him in an e-mail yesterday, that I feel bad for him since I am rarely to the point yet of taking the initiative. We've come a long way in less than 2 years though. I also feel bad that the road is giving him a beating.
On my own behalf, I remind myself that the more than 4 times he's taken a step to "get out of the truck", I supported him. He wanted a partnership with a friend in a restaurant, so I backed him. "Friend" stepped out of it when booming business was too much for him. Mike wanted to join The Service when it all went belly up and I went with the flow for that too. He enlisted and soon after was hit by another car, requiring knee surgery, making the contracts null and void. The details are a blur now with childbirths and transitions but he got involved in an endeavor with another partner and was soon running 7 trucks. He, as well as his partner, made some horrendous decisions and the end came quickly. Years later, after a bad head on wreck and with 6 children, he enrolled in school (the same one Megan eventually graduated from). We didn't know how we'd survive it but were determined to take the dive. Within weeks, he had the aortic bypass and nerve damage to his hand, and it still plagues him. Needless to say, he never saw his first day of auto tech class, but I know he could just about teach it.
I believe it's time for him to take heart, to make the move out of the truck again. The days and miles and fast food and stress and age and pain have taken their toll. He knows virtually everything there is to know about trucking and with the right timing, the right financial moves, and the right support; it can be done. The economy and new government regulations are our present barriers to overcome and only God knows the direction we should move in.
He just called and says that I'm the presumptuous one and he only left because I was snoring. I'm not convinced but I don't feel as much a need to drive home my next point now. I do think the last day and a half are worthy of description though. I stood to make the case that a lot of inconvenient things have taken place but when put in the right light, they become positives. The putting in "the right light" is pivotal and is the difference between a pessimist and an optimist. I stand to say it might appear that I'm just fluttering about here and there with the kids, enjoying all life has to offer; when in reality, I'm "spinning" the difficulties into lessons.
Friday was so busy that by 1 o'clock I still hadn't washed my face. A lady showed up to say for her friend that our potbellied pig was hanging out at her dairy. I rushed in the house to throw on some jeans and yell at Michael to "come on". After speaking with our 92 year old neighbor at some length, we drove around to search. The fella working said the older man who works there had seen it and screamed in panic for them both to run to the truck because he saw "a wild boar". Now ...she's black, hairy, big, and ugly ...but she wouldn't pass for a wild boar. The image was leg slappin' funny though. We found her way out by a fenceline basking in the sun after her morning root. Michael grabbed a limb and with the help of a "heeler" dog, persuaded her to leave the pasture. He had to direct her almost a mile home and halfway she found a bush to take cover and stood in it growling so long that I decided we'd need a cattle prod. I took off to another neighbors for one and after a while saw Michael following "Rochelle" down the hill and up the driveway. The little excursion ate 3 hours of our afternoon, a slot I had big plans for.
Before long, the phone rang with the little lady saying that she hoped she hadn't been hateful. I laughed and said, "On the contrary, 'I' might've been if someone's pig had hung around my place for 5 days". She and I talked for quite a while and who knows, maybe I have a new friend? What I'm getting at is that I could've moaned and groaned about wasted time, but was it really wasted?
Saturday morning was the beginning of an anticipated day. McKala had softball practice and as I ran out to pick her and her friend up, I took Miranda's coffee cup with me forgetting she was sick. I had also forgotten that I had mounds of clothes strewn out over the car to give away. We finally got everybody uniformed up with their coats, hats, scarves and every seat filled to go back to Ashe County, our mountain home, and watch the Christmas parade. The closer we got the warmer our sentiment was, but we timed it so closely that we had to park a mile away. The big kids started out on the trek as I did everything I could to coerse Madalynn to walk faster but there really was no hope, since the sock boots she had on were sliding to and fro. We missed most of the parade trying to get to a particular vantage point, but we bumped into many different old friends on the way. Standing still, we caught the last few entries and there Macklynn stood with empty pockets, no candy to show for his visit to the parade.
We have a few favorite stores that the kids were ready to raid but first we had to get curds from the cheese factory. I didn't have enough cash for drinks; so about midway through Sallie's Emporium, I got hot with Miranda's fluffy white coat on and I volunteered to walk the mile back and get the car. Macklynn commandeered, taking in the ambience of the place as we went along. As soon as I hit the seat, my stomach was growling. Megan worked at Pizza Hut there for 2 years, so it's we feel at ease in. Apparently so did everyone else that day. I shouldn't have stayed but we had it in our minds to do so and you know how that works. Our waiter was in his own little universe and I finally gave up on stressing after he finally brought us our 2 liters. It was then I knew I would at the very least be late to the gala my very close friend had so graciously invited me to that evening, but the kids were having such a good time playing the jukebox and clowning around with Jaycie, the girl we took, that I just decided to roll with it.
Earlier in the week, I'd called Mrs. Poe, the elderly lady who lived at the bottom of our driveway, and told her we'd be up, so I couldn't go home without seeing her. Because our old house had been empty for almost 4 years since the investor took the bait for our desperate sale, we drive to see it and roam the property every chance we get. What we found was a work truck, then a man meeting us at the door. He was a Costa Rican native with a fantastic sense of humor and was glad to show us the renovation work he'd been hired to do, but walking through the rooms was bittersweet. The kids pointed out things that distinctly proved we were there. In one room, artwork was already being accumulated and it just so happened there was the print like the one I'd sold to help make the last of our house payments. I met the owner as we were leaving and was interested that he did for a living what my brother does and his wife's maiden name is Harper. "He" was interested to hear the stories of the treacherous driveway (and the Wormy Chesnut that lies beneath it).
Alas, our visit with Mrs. Poe began in her small cozy living room. After niceties were met, I had to acknowledge that I knew her son in his 40s was very recently diagnosed with Leukemia. She's 74 and still going strong, cleaning the local bank and minding herself. It's hardly fair that her baby boy could pass before she does. We left in a somber mood but as we passed the fields of Christmas trees and played some of Miranda's favorite songs by Nat King Cole and Bing Crosby, we knew the day was fine despite the setbacks. And THAT is exactly what I meant earlier. Overscheduled, sick, late, broke, uncomfortable, impatient, worried, or sad could describe any given moment of that day. However, content and grateful, pleased and polite, are options we have and will never be "happy" without choosing them. So, I could've said that Saturday stunk; but for every mishap, I was mindful of moments of cheer. Anyway, I might as well smile because if I don't, my jowls will succumb to a little more gravity.
Today is 2 days past the onslaught of this writing and Mike and I have gotten past our bump in the road. He hasn't read this yet, so I may be getting a call when he does. BUT, people respond better when I've told the entire story: good, bad, ugly, and beautiful. There is no richness or texture otherwise. I hope that God finds His intended glory in my ramblings. I hope someone out there can plug in and find a place of kinsmanship with me. The kids will have these chronicles, embarrassing as some may be. I don't know if I have anything to offer the masses, but maybe, just maybe, our story has a niche somewhere. I never have wanted much materially. There's not really anything that matches the freedom of admiring and using the majesty of God's creation. To relieve Mike of life on the road would be ...well, I believe it could "save" his life ...and allow him to relish these years before the children take flight.
I just got a call from the little old neighbor. She wants to know if we want a pumpkin to cook and we surely do, so I'll be readying to stop over :) Moments like these make it all make sense.
Thursday, November 17, 2011
No New York for Us
I wonder how many people like us won't revisit New York City for Christmas because of the chaos, aka Occupy Wallstreet. Since we harldy put emphasis on gift getting at Christmas, we planned to spend a couple of days in the city ice skating, rummaging in and out of stores, and gazing at landmarks, much like we did 6 years ago. Now that things are increasingly violent, Mike says there is no chance for us the enjoy a trip there. I am as sorely displeased as the children.
I "get" that big money is highly likely to be corrupt and in bed with the government and "that" very point is the thing. Clean up the government, our supposed representatives, setting terms limits and requiring financial transparencies. Mike heard of a book out now that exposes the way officials legally get around "gifts" and briberies. It details what particular public officials were worth before they were voted in and what they are worth now, still in office. It sickens me, but what disturbs me worse that these protestors in New York (and around the country) are barking up the wrong trees. They are preventing regular Americans from getting to work, from enjoying the park, and from using the public services they paid for. These demoralized people are hurting the very ones that claim to represent. The law is being broken now and they believe they are above it. Watch what you will on TV, MSNBC or FOX, but until you dig deeper for independent interviews, you won't see the truth.
I am wise enough to know the movement has attracted all kinds of scavengers, people who don't care about the message at all. I am also wise enough to hear words of those who do have opinions and I still find them unfounded. They are not searching the right source. Condemning capitalism is ignorant. Condemning greed is worthy of inspection. Downsize the government. We have enough of a socialist system already. A generation is almost lost because of a reliance on working America to support it, unless of course Mom and Dad have put education above all else in carrrying their children to adulthood. Studying does NOT shape a worker.
I went in to answer a call and lost the receipt, I had jotted notes on, to the wind ...so now I'm on my own. Yesterday, I had a questioned posed to me that if I believed in a "3rd Party's" stand, wouldn't I vote for it. Ideally, yes, but we all understand the realities that it would take away from the Republican numbers. I hate that it could be the lesser of two evils with the ruling parties, but I will do whatever it takes to vote Progressives/L:iberals out of office. Are the majority on both sides corrupt? I'm afraid so, and that's where grass roots mean something. One voice still means everything in America. Contrary to that idea was a group of "millionaires", who happen to be lawyers and lobbyists, interviewed saying they are for higher taxes for the 1%. The female interviewer gave them access to the IRS where a person really can offer more taxes. Each refused, scoffing it off that one person couldn't make the difference.
Ah! Now, we have the makings of Socialism. I regret that I did not pay close attention in history classes (not that text books aren't slanted anyway), so when I have the time and interest, I have to dig for understanding or hear it from Mike, my source on the road :) Socialism inevitably involves genocide, and I don't just mean Hitler. If you aren't with the masses, then you're as good as dead. Socialism really only benefits the leadership of it, who do not take part in the actuality of it.
In a perfect world, God would step in and create "peace", so I get a bit of a twitch and feel dishonor is brought on our forces when I see "peace signs" on all matter of clothing. (If people only cared to read of its originations, they might think twice before dawning this fad.) No fear, that perfect world is coming but for us to selfishly sit back and quicken its coming is a shame, for our children and children's children will suffer from our apathy. America was founded on Christian values. They were indeed imperfect men, but the Constitution's ideals were and still are upstanding and honorable. I have an ongoing converstation with a couple of "men", from opposing sides, who don't see the benefit of the mention God in schools. I see value in parts of their arguments but God has placed something in my mind that it will not release and that is: "43When the unclean spirit is gone out of a man, he walketh through dry places, seeking rest, and findeth none. 44Then he saith, I will return into my house from whence I came out; and when he is come, he findeth it empty, swept, and garnished. 45Then goeth he, and taketh with himself seven other spirits more wicked than himself, and they enter in and dwell there: and the last state of that man is worse than the first. Even so shall it be also unto this wicked generation." Matthew 12:43-45. You may not care for the conclusions I draw but a vessel does not stand empty in the world of unseeable principalities. When you rid one thing, another comes along and in the case of education, the standard disintegrates, in lieu of God's preeminence being trashed.
"Revelationists", ones who think government belabors the coming of our Lord, take for granted that America IS exceptional - meaning it is different than anything else in history. However, I do agree that if God's words were posted on our doorways and we still, as the majority, followed his lead; Christians alone might satisfy the hunger and needs of a confused and scared world. Sadly, so many of us are blindly and fearfully fighting our own demons that we don't step out and make any obvious impact for the lost.
I have a group of thoughts I'd named, "Question Everything", but I'll put it out here instead. Why do we do what we do? Why don't we even stop to ask why we do what we do? Status quo is nothing to be settled with. In no way do I esteem my family above another, but I hope that "average" is something our children don't aspire to be. (Sometimes it involves losing friends or opportunities.) When we drop the ball for a length of time, average comes quickly. Let's pick it up because the world may be around a lot longer than you think and for those of you who think there is no end to it, how will militantly forcing people to be charitable solve your problems, which are contradictory in and of themselves?
I "get" that big money is highly likely to be corrupt and in bed with the government and "that" very point is the thing. Clean up the government, our supposed representatives, setting terms limits and requiring financial transparencies. Mike heard of a book out now that exposes the way officials legally get around "gifts" and briberies. It details what particular public officials were worth before they were voted in and what they are worth now, still in office. It sickens me, but what disturbs me worse that these protestors in New York (and around the country) are barking up the wrong trees. They are preventing regular Americans from getting to work, from enjoying the park, and from using the public services they paid for. These demoralized people are hurting the very ones that claim to represent. The law is being broken now and they believe they are above it. Watch what you will on TV, MSNBC or FOX, but until you dig deeper for independent interviews, you won't see the truth.
I am wise enough to know the movement has attracted all kinds of scavengers, people who don't care about the message at all. I am also wise enough to hear words of those who do have opinions and I still find them unfounded. They are not searching the right source. Condemning capitalism is ignorant. Condemning greed is worthy of inspection. Downsize the government. We have enough of a socialist system already. A generation is almost lost because of a reliance on working America to support it, unless of course Mom and Dad have put education above all else in carrrying their children to adulthood. Studying does NOT shape a worker.
I went in to answer a call and lost the receipt, I had jotted notes on, to the wind ...so now I'm on my own. Yesterday, I had a questioned posed to me that if I believed in a "3rd Party's" stand, wouldn't I vote for it. Ideally, yes, but we all understand the realities that it would take away from the Republican numbers. I hate that it could be the lesser of two evils with the ruling parties, but I will do whatever it takes to vote Progressives/L:iberals out of office. Are the majority on both sides corrupt? I'm afraid so, and that's where grass roots mean something. One voice still means everything in America. Contrary to that idea was a group of "millionaires", who happen to be lawyers and lobbyists, interviewed saying they are for higher taxes for the 1%. The female interviewer gave them access to the IRS where a person really can offer more taxes. Each refused, scoffing it off that one person couldn't make the difference.
Ah! Now, we have the makings of Socialism. I regret that I did not pay close attention in history classes (not that text books aren't slanted anyway), so when I have the time and interest, I have to dig for understanding or hear it from Mike, my source on the road :) Socialism inevitably involves genocide, and I don't just mean Hitler. If you aren't with the masses, then you're as good as dead. Socialism really only benefits the leadership of it, who do not take part in the actuality of it.
In a perfect world, God would step in and create "peace", so I get a bit of a twitch and feel dishonor is brought on our forces when I see "peace signs" on all matter of clothing. (If people only cared to read of its originations, they might think twice before dawning this fad.) No fear, that perfect world is coming but for us to selfishly sit back and quicken its coming is a shame, for our children and children's children will suffer from our apathy. America was founded on Christian values. They were indeed imperfect men, but the Constitution's ideals were and still are upstanding and honorable. I have an ongoing converstation with a couple of "men", from opposing sides, who don't see the benefit of the mention God in schools. I see value in parts of their arguments but God has placed something in my mind that it will not release and that is: "43When the unclean spirit is gone out of a man, he walketh through dry places, seeking rest, and findeth none. 44Then he saith, I will return into my house from whence I came out; and when he is come, he findeth it empty, swept, and garnished. 45Then goeth he, and taketh with himself seven other spirits more wicked than himself, and they enter in and dwell there: and the last state of that man is worse than the first. Even so shall it be also unto this wicked generation." Matthew 12:43-45. You may not care for the conclusions I draw but a vessel does not stand empty in the world of unseeable principalities. When you rid one thing, another comes along and in the case of education, the standard disintegrates, in lieu of God's preeminence being trashed.
"Revelationists", ones who think government belabors the coming of our Lord, take for granted that America IS exceptional - meaning it is different than anything else in history. However, I do agree that if God's words were posted on our doorways and we still, as the majority, followed his lead; Christians alone might satisfy the hunger and needs of a confused and scared world. Sadly, so many of us are blindly and fearfully fighting our own demons that we don't step out and make any obvious impact for the lost.
I have a group of thoughts I'd named, "Question Everything", but I'll put it out here instead. Why do we do what we do? Why don't we even stop to ask why we do what we do? Status quo is nothing to be settled with. In no way do I esteem my family above another, but I hope that "average" is something our children don't aspire to be. (Sometimes it involves losing friends or opportunities.) When we drop the ball for a length of time, average comes quickly. Let's pick it up because the world may be around a lot longer than you think and for those of you who think there is no end to it, how will militantly forcing people to be charitable solve your problems, which are contradictory in and of themselves?
Sunday, November 13, 2011
The Delight and Difficulty with Dad
My Mom and Dad were up from Georgia this weekend. It's been several months, so we had plenty to talk over and I was especially jovial since the kids had poured me a generous glass of wine because I was so tense. My Dad seems tense around our boys and has little to no patience with them, so as Macklynn was running in circles around the living room, I asked Dad, "Don't you remember being a 6 year old boy?" He said, "No," then corrected that he was in an orphanage when he was 6 and he could remember the older boys stealing his supper. He doesn't talk much about it ...and I was silenced, 'til I found a few questions to ask.
Dad is the oldest of 2 brothers and 1 baby sister. One day their mother went out to the yard and never came back. (Years later it was discovered that she started another family of 5 more children, then committed suicide.) His father was a serviceman and didn't find in himself to raise 4 small children, so the family stepped in, but they too gave up on them. They entered the foster care system and sadly Dad remembers being beaten with a power cord and eating cold food straight out of a can. I'm not certain of the order of events and ages at which they occurred, but the sister was adopted separately and the youngest brother, Jerry, found a home also. His adoptive mother, Cleo, said he was so lonesome for his brothers that she went back and adopted them - for him ...and never made any qualms about why. Jerry was always given preferential treatment. My Dad and the middle brother were even instructed to share their earnings with Jerry when they were old enough to work. It was really something of a Cinderella story, the bad and the good ...good only because Cleo was rather well-to-do, always keeping a maid and a second home.
The "good" soon reared its own ugly head in the form of aristocracy. Although it was a smalltime town, Dad was the student council president and star of the basketball team that was headed to state. Cleo disapproved of my mother's lack of pedigree. Mom's parents were farmers, sharecroppers at that, but they made an honest living and raised one child: a reputable, intelligent, hard working daughter. Cleo banned my father from the championships because of his relationship with my mother.
They are the high school sweetheart story: marrying young, making it on their own, Mom staying home while Dad went to technical school, having a girl and boy of their own and a little brick house out on family land, next to where her father worked the fields. When I was 4, my grandfather was shot and killed. I remember Mom wrapping me up in a quilt that night and putting me in our LTD. (Her mother passed away unexpectedly when our Megan was not much younger than I. I firmly believe that Mom's tiny nuclear family is why she clings so hard to civility for fear of losing just one member.) I do remember some other things about that life, from time to time, as well as having to move away from it when I was 10. It was the beginning of several moves and the downward spiral of Mom and Dad's relationship. For years I blamed it all on him, that he should've stood taller. Mom must've seen her part in things, though, because she remarried him after he divorced her in the mid 1980's.
In the midst of all the change and turmoil he created, Dad always worked hard, taking on as many as 3 jobs at a time ...and even so, was playful . Perhaps, we were protected from arguments, but I don't recall many divisive days. He was fun-loving: teaching me how to shoot a basketball out on the driveway, making school projects with (and for ;) me, horsing around, running off with us to the theater, and other things I'd like to remember but probably have shut away for fear of reawakening old wounds.
He has reached well deserved status at his occupation and is flown for consulting at factories in other states and even overseas. His work ethic is old school, but his visionary entrepreneurship has landed him a second source of income that he gladly shares when he sees a need. He affords his love of offshore fishing and all that goes along with it. He also revels in finding unique gifts for us and is quick to pass out big bills for things like traveling expenses. It's a family joke that his generosity usually comes with "words of advice". That's due in part to his "boss" mentality ...but mostly his desire for our success. I've never heard him say it but I know he works so hard and expects the same from us because he never wants to revisit any semblance of his childhood poverty. It's pretty interesting that my Mom works in Social Services to prevent and halt the very things my Dad suffered. (Also worthy of note is that my Dad's favorite thing to do, fishing, is my mother's least because she can't swim ...hmmm ;)
Dad and I have had some serious disagreements and misunderstandings. It goes unsaid between us, but I've known that the distance between our homes has been our saving grace. Yesterday though, he dressed with enthusiasm to go to Melody's volleyball game (filled up Miranda's tank), came back to dole out candy to all the kids, held a stick for a long time for the little ones to jump over on the trampoline, and watched the Alabama game sitting elbow to elbow, all the while joking and teasing. Truth is I like him, in spite of some awful choices he's made. When I get perturbed by his judgement or snide remarks, I choose to see him as that little orphan boy. And at the same time, I see a man who just turned 60 with an ailing back from constant busyness and building and full blown diabetes that would take him from me if it got the chance. I had the same kind of thoughts about aging when my mother hugged me to leave and, as an unusual gesture, held my hand for a few seconds. They were so soft ...and I felt like a girl instantaneously. Those high school sweethearts both turned 60 this year and finding ways to stay intertwined with them, in the midst of our opposing sides on my brother's new life, seems all the more important. My friends who have already lost a parent don't need any convincing about how brief our time together really is.
Dad never talks about God and that worries me. I know people who are damaged as children and never fully recover. I'm thankful that my parents protected me from the "elements" and that I never endured violent personal injury at the hands of another, nor the neglect of having physical needs go unmet. My hope is that hearing the searing words about an orphanage roll off the tongue of my father will reinforce to me that impressing somebody or being somebody, having things or getting things done, and mourning lost chances and chasing new ones are secondary to seeking lives that need rescuing. There's a "home for children" not far from us. Melody got involved in the life of a girl there 2 years ago. That's the kind of thing I'm talking about when I boldly question why we celebrate holidays the way we do. Do you think a child there benefits more from a fantasy figure named Santa Claus or another little girl who makes that wish list happen because Jesus led her to?
Dad is the oldest of 2 brothers and 1 baby sister. One day their mother went out to the yard and never came back. (Years later it was discovered that she started another family of 5 more children, then committed suicide.) His father was a serviceman and didn't find in himself to raise 4 small children, so the family stepped in, but they too gave up on them. They entered the foster care system and sadly Dad remembers being beaten with a power cord and eating cold food straight out of a can. I'm not certain of the order of events and ages at which they occurred, but the sister was adopted separately and the youngest brother, Jerry, found a home also. His adoptive mother, Cleo, said he was so lonesome for his brothers that she went back and adopted them - for him ...and never made any qualms about why. Jerry was always given preferential treatment. My Dad and the middle brother were even instructed to share their earnings with Jerry when they were old enough to work. It was really something of a Cinderella story, the bad and the good ...good only because Cleo was rather well-to-do, always keeping a maid and a second home.
The "good" soon reared its own ugly head in the form of aristocracy. Although it was a smalltime town, Dad was the student council president and star of the basketball team that was headed to state. Cleo disapproved of my mother's lack of pedigree. Mom's parents were farmers, sharecroppers at that, but they made an honest living and raised one child: a reputable, intelligent, hard working daughter. Cleo banned my father from the championships because of his relationship with my mother.
They are the high school sweetheart story: marrying young, making it on their own, Mom staying home while Dad went to technical school, having a girl and boy of their own and a little brick house out on family land, next to where her father worked the fields. When I was 4, my grandfather was shot and killed. I remember Mom wrapping me up in a quilt that night and putting me in our LTD. (Her mother passed away unexpectedly when our Megan was not much younger than I. I firmly believe that Mom's tiny nuclear family is why she clings so hard to civility for fear of losing just one member.) I do remember some other things about that life, from time to time, as well as having to move away from it when I was 10. It was the beginning of several moves and the downward spiral of Mom and Dad's relationship. For years I blamed it all on him, that he should've stood taller. Mom must've seen her part in things, though, because she remarried him after he divorced her in the mid 1980's.
In the midst of all the change and turmoil he created, Dad always worked hard, taking on as many as 3 jobs at a time ...and even so, was playful . Perhaps, we were protected from arguments, but I don't recall many divisive days. He was fun-loving: teaching me how to shoot a basketball out on the driveway, making school projects with (and for ;) me, horsing around, running off with us to the theater, and other things I'd like to remember but probably have shut away for fear of reawakening old wounds.
He has reached well deserved status at his occupation and is flown for consulting at factories in other states and even overseas. His work ethic is old school, but his visionary entrepreneurship has landed him a second source of income that he gladly shares when he sees a need. He affords his love of offshore fishing and all that goes along with it. He also revels in finding unique gifts for us and is quick to pass out big bills for things like traveling expenses. It's a family joke that his generosity usually comes with "words of advice". That's due in part to his "boss" mentality ...but mostly his desire for our success. I've never heard him say it but I know he works so hard and expects the same from us because he never wants to revisit any semblance of his childhood poverty. It's pretty interesting that my Mom works in Social Services to prevent and halt the very things my Dad suffered. (Also worthy of note is that my Dad's favorite thing to do, fishing, is my mother's least because she can't swim ...hmmm ;)
Dad and I have had some serious disagreements and misunderstandings. It goes unsaid between us, but I've known that the distance between our homes has been our saving grace. Yesterday though, he dressed with enthusiasm to go to Melody's volleyball game (filled up Miranda's tank), came back to dole out candy to all the kids, held a stick for a long time for the little ones to jump over on the trampoline, and watched the Alabama game sitting elbow to elbow, all the while joking and teasing. Truth is I like him, in spite of some awful choices he's made. When I get perturbed by his judgement or snide remarks, I choose to see him as that little orphan boy. And at the same time, I see a man who just turned 60 with an ailing back from constant busyness and building and full blown diabetes that would take him from me if it got the chance. I had the same kind of thoughts about aging when my mother hugged me to leave and, as an unusual gesture, held my hand for a few seconds. They were so soft ...and I felt like a girl instantaneously. Those high school sweethearts both turned 60 this year and finding ways to stay intertwined with them, in the midst of our opposing sides on my brother's new life, seems all the more important. My friends who have already lost a parent don't need any convincing about how brief our time together really is.
Dad never talks about God and that worries me. I know people who are damaged as children and never fully recover. I'm thankful that my parents protected me from the "elements" and that I never endured violent personal injury at the hands of another, nor the neglect of having physical needs go unmet. My hope is that hearing the searing words about an orphanage roll off the tongue of my father will reinforce to me that impressing somebody or being somebody, having things or getting things done, and mourning lost chances and chasing new ones are secondary to seeking lives that need rescuing. There's a "home for children" not far from us. Melody got involved in the life of a girl there 2 years ago. That's the kind of thing I'm talking about when I boldly question why we celebrate holidays the way we do. Do you think a child there benefits more from a fantasy figure named Santa Claus or another little girl who makes that wish list happen because Jesus led her to?
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
Loss
In the mildness of a picture perfect morning with towels and blankets drying under the sun, in theory it seemed that I had a theme coming on of loss: a tooth, an SEC game (in actuality nonconsequental for me), and all 4 kittens (1 given away, 1 killed in an engine, and 2 vanished). But the loss of a calf that we pulled so hard for, practically willing it to live, is another ballgame. After finally hitting on good advice from a Vet, we were confident for a good outcome. Keeping them on their feet and hydrated is crucial to recovery regardless of the condition they're suffering from. For her sister's calf, Miranda created a sling under the porch. We learned how to make homemade Gatorade to bottlefeed them, even using syringes to force feed. We used all sorts of homeopathic and pharmaceutical medicines I've listed on Facebook statuses. After tucking it into bed with other sick calves to each side and covered with a blanket of hay; she got up Tuesday morning, made it a bottle, and slid on her boots, only to find it cold and lifeless.
Pray that McKala sees whatever she's meant to "see" in all this. Michael has 4 calves of his own, but McKala's are the only ones to have been burdened with the 3 sicknesses, even though they're housed together. No one in this family could hold a light to Job, but in its own small way, I can't help but find comparison. She's lost half of her calves and his have harldy come down with anything. In her heart of hearts, there must be questions. It's particularly wrenching because she is a born nurturer. (Incidentally, I read an article from a century ago that said farm "wives" generally have better success with calves.) Again, pray that humility, strength, and faith are gained in this trial and that she is not brought to her knees in weakness for anything other than to seek the ways of the Lord.
Practically speaking, since every expense for the calves is theirs, she now only has prospects for half her earnings. And of course, her profit margin is moved because of her endeavors to save them. I'm well aware that these complications beg questions about purposefully removing a baby from its healthy mother. Well, if you're drinking cows' milk off the shelves of a store, it's necessitated. Our county has the hightest number of dairy cows in the state. Michael may have come up with his own solution to use his auction makings to purchase a young heifer, even though her price comes at 10 times what her male counterpart does. Then, a natural course can be taken with them.
I'm sure the Vet, whose number I have burned in my memory now, wishes people like us were more informed. We thought we were, "seeing how" we raised other ones, but with little difficulty. One thing we "have" learned is that "oldtime" remedies don't always get you "out of the woods". Remember, there are was a lot of death in olden times - survival of the fittest and fortunate, if you will. Too, never forget, disease is most evil in its ever mutating presence, lurking around every corner.
Although I think I'd make an awfully good "poop consultant" now because what goes into a cow and comes out is the lifeblood, she had 2 other calves looking hardy "yester"morning (as one of the kids used to say; then again, I guess it was "to"morning Michael would say :) and we called DVM Pendergrass out to insure we had all the bases covered.
So listen, it's never right to try and be the exception to every rule, but it surely is refreshing to find someone who knows when to make one, someone who loves what he does and doesn't bind himself to red tape. I had to leave to dispose of the carcass properly (yes, there are places for that) and get Michael to basketball practice on time. The young bovine/equine doctor came and gave McKala loads of information and in writing answered every question I'd listed. The kids report that he was completely open and friendly with all of them, just casually enjoying the environment and the dogs underfoot. He administered 7 shots and gave her a bill for only $95. At no charge, he gave her a big tube of vitamin paste and I know what his regular fees are. So yeah, another thank you note is in the works.
There are several morals to this story but I'll pose this one to you. All right, McKala tried everything and spent days to salvage the lives of her calves. Those profits would've gone to more business and a commendable cause. Should Michael get his expected price, would you have him give some to McKala since hers will likely be half, although she gave it every effort? If you think this is an absurd question, do not misunderstand me when I tell you I've met people of late who live by a new world philosophy. It is their answer to philanthropy. They have absolutely no feel for reality and the discouragement that will come upon Michael when he realizes his own success little more than averaged out. I wouldn't even encourage him to share. If God laid it on his heart, it'd be a different story, but no "entity" should require such goings on. In fact, McKala offered to him a weekly doing of his kitchen duty and a cleaning of his bathroom for all the help he gave her in literally getting the calves to their feet and giving injections until she got up the nerve to do them herself. (He also cared for them so she could go to a game ...and so she could regain composure after the deaths ...and then there was the morning she had thrown up in the night.) Loss does not entitle anyone to anything. Ideally, it makes us more reliant on the persuasions of God, not on government.
Not convinced? That 3 1/2 years ago, when we lost all equity in everything we had, I had no dillusions that government should save our home and property. No doubt that we got through it by the graciousness of family, friends, and even strangers we'd never laid eyes on. Social Services covered insurance and groceries for a year and although we aren't completely on our feet, I don't expect them to insure me, house me, or feed me. "Progressive" people with their heads in the clouds totally lack understanding, claiming that it's our human obligation to provide for the less endowed, BUT there's a mighty good chance that a lot of them are negligibly responsible for their own demise, too lazy or proud to take any given job ...much less whether the people are legal to start with. Don't doubt me on this; remember, I was in the system. Mike banked lots last month and even with borrowing and only splurging with one meal out with the family and a motorcycle rental, there was less than $1K after all self employment and family expenses. He's taxed at every level and contributing heavily to a spectrum of jobs by simply running up and down the roads of America. We should "share the wealth"? What wealth? We need to put every last idea into real life situations before we decide the future of this United States.
Pray that McKala sees whatever she's meant to "see" in all this. Michael has 4 calves of his own, but McKala's are the only ones to have been burdened with the 3 sicknesses, even though they're housed together. No one in this family could hold a light to Job, but in its own small way, I can't help but find comparison. She's lost half of her calves and his have harldy come down with anything. In her heart of hearts, there must be questions. It's particularly wrenching because she is a born nurturer. (Incidentally, I read an article from a century ago that said farm "wives" generally have better success with calves.) Again, pray that humility, strength, and faith are gained in this trial and that she is not brought to her knees in weakness for anything other than to seek the ways of the Lord.
Practically speaking, since every expense for the calves is theirs, she now only has prospects for half her earnings. And of course, her profit margin is moved because of her endeavors to save them. I'm well aware that these complications beg questions about purposefully removing a baby from its healthy mother. Well, if you're drinking cows' milk off the shelves of a store, it's necessitated. Our county has the hightest number of dairy cows in the state. Michael may have come up with his own solution to use his auction makings to purchase a young heifer, even though her price comes at 10 times what her male counterpart does. Then, a natural course can be taken with them.
I'm sure the Vet, whose number I have burned in my memory now, wishes people like us were more informed. We thought we were, "seeing how" we raised other ones, but with little difficulty. One thing we "have" learned is that "oldtime" remedies don't always get you "out of the woods". Remember, there are was a lot of death in olden times - survival of the fittest and fortunate, if you will. Too, never forget, disease is most evil in its ever mutating presence, lurking around every corner.
Although I think I'd make an awfully good "poop consultant" now because what goes into a cow and comes out is the lifeblood, she had 2 other calves looking hardy "yester"morning (as one of the kids used to say; then again, I guess it was "to"morning Michael would say :) and we called DVM Pendergrass out to insure we had all the bases covered.
So listen, it's never right to try and be the exception to every rule, but it surely is refreshing to find someone who knows when to make one, someone who loves what he does and doesn't bind himself to red tape. I had to leave to dispose of the carcass properly (yes, there are places for that) and get Michael to basketball practice on time. The young bovine/equine doctor came and gave McKala loads of information and in writing answered every question I'd listed. The kids report that he was completely open and friendly with all of them, just casually enjoying the environment and the dogs underfoot. He administered 7 shots and gave her a bill for only $95. At no charge, he gave her a big tube of vitamin paste and I know what his regular fees are. So yeah, another thank you note is in the works.
There are several morals to this story but I'll pose this one to you. All right, McKala tried everything and spent days to salvage the lives of her calves. Those profits would've gone to more business and a commendable cause. Should Michael get his expected price, would you have him give some to McKala since hers will likely be half, although she gave it every effort? If you think this is an absurd question, do not misunderstand me when I tell you I've met people of late who live by a new world philosophy. It is their answer to philanthropy. They have absolutely no feel for reality and the discouragement that will come upon Michael when he realizes his own success little more than averaged out. I wouldn't even encourage him to share. If God laid it on his heart, it'd be a different story, but no "entity" should require such goings on. In fact, McKala offered to him a weekly doing of his kitchen duty and a cleaning of his bathroom for all the help he gave her in literally getting the calves to their feet and giving injections until she got up the nerve to do them herself. (He also cared for them so she could go to a game ...and so she could regain composure after the deaths ...and then there was the morning she had thrown up in the night.) Loss does not entitle anyone to anything. Ideally, it makes us more reliant on the persuasions of God, not on government.
Not convinced? That 3 1/2 years ago, when we lost all equity in everything we had, I had no dillusions that government should save our home and property. No doubt that we got through it by the graciousness of family, friends, and even strangers we'd never laid eyes on. Social Services covered insurance and groceries for a year and although we aren't completely on our feet, I don't expect them to insure me, house me, or feed me. "Progressive" people with their heads in the clouds totally lack understanding, claiming that it's our human obligation to provide for the less endowed, BUT there's a mighty good chance that a lot of them are negligibly responsible for their own demise, too lazy or proud to take any given job ...much less whether the people are legal to start with. Don't doubt me on this; remember, I was in the system. Mike banked lots last month and even with borrowing and only splurging with one meal out with the family and a motorcycle rental, there was less than $1K after all self employment and family expenses. He's taxed at every level and contributing heavily to a spectrum of jobs by simply running up and down the roads of America. We should "share the wealth"? What wealth? We need to put every last idea into real life situations before we decide the future of this United States.
Saturday, November 5, 2011
Toothless but Painless
It began a week ago while I was drinking a great big Coke from Subway. I only have one once or twice a month, but I'm glad I did. The sugar created a sensation that indicated what was the beginning of the end of a tooth. I cleaned, swished, and took it easy on that area for days; but 3 days ago, there was no denying that something bigger than hygiene was amiss. Between the mystery of the calves' lameness, vehicle repairs, and other appointments; I just self medicated and "sucked" it up. Besides, I don't have insurance. I've actually not needed any in almost 4 years and wouldn't have purchased dental insurance anyway because of its high cost.
Several of you know that I'm under the supervision of a resident student at The University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. We have a plan of treatment for my severe Gingivitis. I'm told it began many years back when under the stress of pregnancies, moves, and in a span of 4 years not receiving regular cleanings. Once it starts, it doesn't matter how consistent you are with cleaning if the underlying problem isn't resolved. As an adult, the few cavities I've had all (but one due to my bite) stemmed from gum deficiencies. I haven't had one that I knew of in 6 or 7 years. This is getting a little boring, I'm sure, but if one person can understand the intricacies of the disease before it's too late for them, I'll be satisfied.
So, I had a lull of about 18 hours the day before last and thought my problem was subsiding. In retrospect, it was probably an accumulation of all the ibuprofen I'd taken ...because that evening the pain returned but with a vengeance, set off again by sugar ...but even the x-rays from July hadn't shown a cavity. It was so bad that the shooting pain was referring to my lower jaw all the way to my front teeth. I took more 800 mg ibuprofen, then Hydrocodone, then Tylenol #3s, then Benadryl (praying it would make me sleep since NOTHING even touched the agony) ...until I got down the mason jar of shine (which is more likely Everclear with cider). I had been crying so much that my "sipping" nature went away and I drank it until I guess I passed out, around 4 am. Why didn't I go to the ER? What ...and pay a fee with no real solution? Not my style; I'd set the clock for the opening hours of the clinic. When I got them on the line, they were less than agreeable about getting me into their ER program. They sent me to my "resident's" line. I got his voicemail and was told he was in class. I was desperate, calling back and sobbing like a baby, pleading really, for them to do something, anything.
Within 30 minutes, my call was returned and the "come on in" reply was honey to my ears. Miranda got ready to drive me because there was no way I was giving up the relief I'd found in the liquor. She's 17 and hasn't driven a lot in heavy traffic, much less in a downpour, but she persevered. I was in and out of consciousness, not sure if it was drowsiness or drunkenness ...and I really didn't care. We finally arrived after 2 and a half hours. They got me right in. I knew he wasn't scheduling procedures that day, so I thanked him profusely. They went straight into sensitivity testing to determine the problem tooth by "knocking" on them, putting liquid ice to them, and probing them. There really wasn't a decisive tooth, which I was afraid made me look like an over reactor. Since they don't know me well, it wouldn't mean much to tell them that I'm not a "crier"; so I told them I'd had a pint of Everclear. His eyes widened with surprise and a twinge of humor.
X-rays followed and the tooth that was killing me showed no indications of damage. They brought in the overseeing doctor for consult and extraction was mentioned right off the bat. I almost starting crying at the thought because the tooth presenting pain was third from the back and its absence would definitely be noticed in a smile. Then, I felt really guitly at such vanity; afterall, it's only a tooth, not a limb. They decided to start the scaling that was planned for next month and see if they could uncover something. And uncover they did. While cleaning my top left, last molar, their tools found a cavity about one third of an inch above the gumline. It was that big in circumference and approaching that in depth. It had been there so long that it'd finally reached the nerve.
He said, "We have your culprit." I was thoroughly glad to be legitimized and overjoyed that it was so far back in my mouth. My mood swung again, though, when they came back in the room from another conference with the final suggestion to pull it out. I loaded them with questions. "Why not a root canal?" They replied that there was such significant bone loss in the root of the tooth from the gingivitis that it was loose and would be useless before long anyway. Bone grafting was one alternative but would involve thousands of dollars. It didn't take me long to give the go ahead to just get it over with.
I've written "they" several times and by that I mean that "my" resident is graduating in May, so he's brought in a female resident to take over my care. She was the one to do the deed and I didn't hesitate to ask her how many teeth she'd pulled. He leaned over close and said, "She's the queen of tooth pulling." She said she'd explain during the procedure. As they reassured me that all the tugging and cracking was customary, she told me of her mission trip to Madagascar in June and the lines of people needing care. She said she'd extracted 300 teeth and was only outdone there by her husband. Suddenly my one tooth seemed so unimportant. There they were, a couple, living outloud: giving help to the helpless. Now, I know that I'm in good hands over these next months.
The procedure was painless. We're only out $85, some gas money, and $25 for prescriptions. I haven't needed a prescription since I was pregnant with Madalynn. I'm hoping the amoxicillin will help my skin a little, too. I won't wish for too much though. I know from experience that a sore mouth is no guarantee for weight loss. I had an expander, the metal devise in the pallet that expands it with the daily turn of a "key", when I had braces (again) as an adult. I thought my limited menu would be a surefire shedding of pounds. NOT! An eater will always find a way ;) So, I'm sitting here now after my cool cup of coffee in no pain whatsoever, WITHOUT the prescibed painkillers. Thank God for technology.
Two things I take from this experience are the insight I get about a person who is suffering and turns to alcohol for the numbness it produces and the thankfulness that goes unexpressed to "professionals". I'm glad I don't have an alcohol dependence and it's easy to judge someone who does for the "selfishness" of addiction. The only way to help them though is to dive into the cause, instead of shunning them ...unless it becomes the last straw. Secondly, the appreciation factor shouldn't end with a handshake. I used to be really into thank you notes but as much for etiquette as anything. I've slacked off but this week I'll make it a point to thank the "people" who took excellent and sympathetic care of me. Nevermind that they get practice from or credit for it. They fit me into their schedules, heard me out, searched for an unseen problem, shared their own stories with me, and even specially prescribed pills I could swallow instead of crush. I hope a note will mean to them what they did for me means. When is the last time you sent an unexpected handwritten thanks to someone? It doesn't have to be beautiful, clever, or even store bought; it just needs to be done and sent.
Several of you know that I'm under the supervision of a resident student at The University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. We have a plan of treatment for my severe Gingivitis. I'm told it began many years back when under the stress of pregnancies, moves, and in a span of 4 years not receiving regular cleanings. Once it starts, it doesn't matter how consistent you are with cleaning if the underlying problem isn't resolved. As an adult, the few cavities I've had all (but one due to my bite) stemmed from gum deficiencies. I haven't had one that I knew of in 6 or 7 years. This is getting a little boring, I'm sure, but if one person can understand the intricacies of the disease before it's too late for them, I'll be satisfied.
So, I had a lull of about 18 hours the day before last and thought my problem was subsiding. In retrospect, it was probably an accumulation of all the ibuprofen I'd taken ...because that evening the pain returned but with a vengeance, set off again by sugar ...but even the x-rays from July hadn't shown a cavity. It was so bad that the shooting pain was referring to my lower jaw all the way to my front teeth. I took more 800 mg ibuprofen, then Hydrocodone, then Tylenol #3s, then Benadryl (praying it would make me sleep since NOTHING even touched the agony) ...until I got down the mason jar of shine (which is more likely Everclear with cider). I had been crying so much that my "sipping" nature went away and I drank it until I guess I passed out, around 4 am. Why didn't I go to the ER? What ...and pay a fee with no real solution? Not my style; I'd set the clock for the opening hours of the clinic. When I got them on the line, they were less than agreeable about getting me into their ER program. They sent me to my "resident's" line. I got his voicemail and was told he was in class. I was desperate, calling back and sobbing like a baby, pleading really, for them to do something, anything.
Within 30 minutes, my call was returned and the "come on in" reply was honey to my ears. Miranda got ready to drive me because there was no way I was giving up the relief I'd found in the liquor. She's 17 and hasn't driven a lot in heavy traffic, much less in a downpour, but she persevered. I was in and out of consciousness, not sure if it was drowsiness or drunkenness ...and I really didn't care. We finally arrived after 2 and a half hours. They got me right in. I knew he wasn't scheduling procedures that day, so I thanked him profusely. They went straight into sensitivity testing to determine the problem tooth by "knocking" on them, putting liquid ice to them, and probing them. There really wasn't a decisive tooth, which I was afraid made me look like an over reactor. Since they don't know me well, it wouldn't mean much to tell them that I'm not a "crier"; so I told them I'd had a pint of Everclear. His eyes widened with surprise and a twinge of humor.
X-rays followed and the tooth that was killing me showed no indications of damage. They brought in the overseeing doctor for consult and extraction was mentioned right off the bat. I almost starting crying at the thought because the tooth presenting pain was third from the back and its absence would definitely be noticed in a smile. Then, I felt really guitly at such vanity; afterall, it's only a tooth, not a limb. They decided to start the scaling that was planned for next month and see if they could uncover something. And uncover they did. While cleaning my top left, last molar, their tools found a cavity about one third of an inch above the gumline. It was that big in circumference and approaching that in depth. It had been there so long that it'd finally reached the nerve.
He said, "We have your culprit." I was thoroughly glad to be legitimized and overjoyed that it was so far back in my mouth. My mood swung again, though, when they came back in the room from another conference with the final suggestion to pull it out. I loaded them with questions. "Why not a root canal?" They replied that there was such significant bone loss in the root of the tooth from the gingivitis that it was loose and would be useless before long anyway. Bone grafting was one alternative but would involve thousands of dollars. It didn't take me long to give the go ahead to just get it over with.
I've written "they" several times and by that I mean that "my" resident is graduating in May, so he's brought in a female resident to take over my care. She was the one to do the deed and I didn't hesitate to ask her how many teeth she'd pulled. He leaned over close and said, "She's the queen of tooth pulling." She said she'd explain during the procedure. As they reassured me that all the tugging and cracking was customary, she told me of her mission trip to Madagascar in June and the lines of people needing care. She said she'd extracted 300 teeth and was only outdone there by her husband. Suddenly my one tooth seemed so unimportant. There they were, a couple, living outloud: giving help to the helpless. Now, I know that I'm in good hands over these next months.
The procedure was painless. We're only out $85, some gas money, and $25 for prescriptions. I haven't needed a prescription since I was pregnant with Madalynn. I'm hoping the amoxicillin will help my skin a little, too. I won't wish for too much though. I know from experience that a sore mouth is no guarantee for weight loss. I had an expander, the metal devise in the pallet that expands it with the daily turn of a "key", when I had braces (again) as an adult. I thought my limited menu would be a surefire shedding of pounds. NOT! An eater will always find a way ;) So, I'm sitting here now after my cool cup of coffee in no pain whatsoever, WITHOUT the prescibed painkillers. Thank God for technology.
Two things I take from this experience are the insight I get about a person who is suffering and turns to alcohol for the numbness it produces and the thankfulness that goes unexpressed to "professionals". I'm glad I don't have an alcohol dependence and it's easy to judge someone who does for the "selfishness" of addiction. The only way to help them though is to dive into the cause, instead of shunning them ...unless it becomes the last straw. Secondly, the appreciation factor shouldn't end with a handshake. I used to be really into thank you notes but as much for etiquette as anything. I've slacked off but this week I'll make it a point to thank the "people" who took excellent and sympathetic care of me. Nevermind that they get practice from or credit for it. They fit me into their schedules, heard me out, searched for an unseen problem, shared their own stories with me, and even specially prescribed pills I could swallow instead of crush. I hope a note will mean to them what they did for me means. When is the last time you sent an unexpected handwritten thanks to someone? It doesn't have to be beautiful, clever, or even store bought; it just needs to be done and sent.
Monday, October 31, 2011
Halloween Has Its Last Hoorah
As much fun as costuming up has been, we finally have a general concensus to exempt Halloween from future family celebrations. (It'd be great to incorporate dressing up into another holiday, though.) I grow more and more leary of Halloween's sinister meanings as the years pass. I'm sitting here watching History Channel's "Cities of the Underworld" now as Miranda taxis her brothers and sisters around tonight. Druids and their costums are nothing to laugh about. You say we've cleaned up the act, that it's all in fun. I say closing our eyes to history is naive. The Bible reprimands the calling of spirits from the dead and the crafting of witches. Does your hoaxing of these things not make your position treacherous? There are principalities with whom we are hardly able to reckon.
You see that I didn't condemn it all and demand that the children forego Halloween (known as Samhain in yesteryear). I asked them to consider it themselves. We watched another informative video. There was no evidence that a celebration of this kind holds any value. It's revealed to me just now that the only "death" holiday that should be reverenced is that of Christ, a true bloody sacrifice so that we don't have to suffer the same destiny.
Besides, is All Hallow's Eve not really one for adults anyway? ...in its originations and even today as I've characterized as "whore and gore". I'm hearing that this occasion's candy sales are topping Valentine's Day's and that decorations sales are topping Christmas's. Why? Ask yourself.
Don't think I've left the other holidays without inspection. The Easter Bunny tradition is a slap in the face to the crucifixion of our Saviour. It's foundations represent the goddess of fertility. Furthermore, lying to our children about the existence of pretend creatures and their abilities is setting up a doubtful mindset of what the real unseen is. When we tell them of the Holy Spirit, then why would they give it much gravity if the Tooth Fairy and Santa Claus have proved to be fallacies and WE parents have portrayed them as realities. What fun is there in tricking our children? There is no "magic" in cartoonish characters bringing presents. BUT, there IS "sweetness" in finding gifts from family members who gave much thought, and often much sacrifice, to show their love.
Lying to children is never okay. We're all given the discernment to know when to divulge details at what ages, but not telling them about our marriages, our finances, our pasts, our concerns, ...about sex, about politics, about sickness is doing their maturity and stability a disservice. They can handle it; what they can't handle is it being suddenly thrust on them ...and expected to absorb and deal with it, while carrying on a regular schedule nonetheless. Come on - WE couldn't even do that. The one thing I'll add is that you shouldn't go against your spouse on anything I've written here. Agreement is paramount. God will hear your concern and work on your behalf, maybe not on your timetable though. Years ago, Mike wouldn't hear of the ways I challenged tradition. Now, he insists we do ...but not from any amount of nagging. God alone has dealt with him.
Prayer covers a multitude of things we'll probably never understand. Before the children left, I thought of having a family prayer, which usually involves a request to the Holy Spirit to guide us in the will of God, but I found it very difficult to utter those words as the kids headed out to partake in this evening. DO NOT get me wrong; OF COURSE, I prayed and am praying for their safe return. You say your own prayer next time you or the kids are readying for this sort of activity and see what kind of taste you get in your mouth. That "taste" is not any better for me just because the little ones are "trunk or treating" at a church somewhere. If anything, my peace is further from me concerning the church's involvement. There is plenty of good to celebrate without deception and "repackaging" darkness.
I almost forgot! I have a postscript: Do you know anyone who practices WICCA, "good" witchcraft? I do. Do you really want to open up that can of worms for your children honoring nights like this one? If there is to be an occasion tonight, why do believers not congregate to explore its history so it doesn't repeat itself. What would happen if we prayed down evil from its pedestal?! Or do you not understand its real and powerful foothold? Look around; from where do you think the current distresses of this country arise?
If you still haven't bought in, tell me this: Where does the theory of covering rottenness with niceties hold together in this life we're living? An ill-tempered child dressed prettily is still rotten. A bad policy smothered with incentives is still rotten. An abuse patted down with make-up is still rotten. You finish the list and please, do tell where the repackaging of a nasty thing blossoms into something beautiful. You say, "Ahh, lighten up; I did it as a child and I'm all right." Open your eyes; it's not all about us and this is not our elementary world. You're raising your child well? Well, then teach them how to discern good from bad. Or would that ruin your fun? Maybe there's more "fun" in the fearless; ones who don't give stage to the frightfulness of demonic practices and prescences.
You see that I didn't condemn it all and demand that the children forego Halloween (known as Samhain in yesteryear). I asked them to consider it themselves. We watched another informative video. There was no evidence that a celebration of this kind holds any value. It's revealed to me just now that the only "death" holiday that should be reverenced is that of Christ, a true bloody sacrifice so that we don't have to suffer the same destiny.
Besides, is All Hallow's Eve not really one for adults anyway? ...in its originations and even today as I've characterized as "whore and gore". I'm hearing that this occasion's candy sales are topping Valentine's Day's and that decorations sales are topping Christmas's. Why? Ask yourself.
Don't think I've left the other holidays without inspection. The Easter Bunny tradition is a slap in the face to the crucifixion of our Saviour. It's foundations represent the goddess of fertility. Furthermore, lying to our children about the existence of pretend creatures and their abilities is setting up a doubtful mindset of what the real unseen is. When we tell them of the Holy Spirit, then why would they give it much gravity if the Tooth Fairy and Santa Claus have proved to be fallacies and WE parents have portrayed them as realities. What fun is there in tricking our children? There is no "magic" in cartoonish characters bringing presents. BUT, there IS "sweetness" in finding gifts from family members who gave much thought, and often much sacrifice, to show their love.
Lying to children is never okay. We're all given the discernment to know when to divulge details at what ages, but not telling them about our marriages, our finances, our pasts, our concerns, ...about sex, about politics, about sickness is doing their maturity and stability a disservice. They can handle it; what they can't handle is it being suddenly thrust on them ...and expected to absorb and deal with it, while carrying on a regular schedule nonetheless. Come on - WE couldn't even do that. The one thing I'll add is that you shouldn't go against your spouse on anything I've written here. Agreement is paramount. God will hear your concern and work on your behalf, maybe not on your timetable though. Years ago, Mike wouldn't hear of the ways I challenged tradition. Now, he insists we do ...but not from any amount of nagging. God alone has dealt with him.
Prayer covers a multitude of things we'll probably never understand. Before the children left, I thought of having a family prayer, which usually involves a request to the Holy Spirit to guide us in the will of God, but I found it very difficult to utter those words as the kids headed out to partake in this evening. DO NOT get me wrong; OF COURSE, I prayed and am praying for their safe return. You say your own prayer next time you or the kids are readying for this sort of activity and see what kind of taste you get in your mouth. That "taste" is not any better for me just because the little ones are "trunk or treating" at a church somewhere. If anything, my peace is further from me concerning the church's involvement. There is plenty of good to celebrate without deception and "repackaging" darkness.
I almost forgot! I have a postscript: Do you know anyone who practices WICCA, "good" witchcraft? I do. Do you really want to open up that can of worms for your children honoring nights like this one? If there is to be an occasion tonight, why do believers not congregate to explore its history so it doesn't repeat itself. What would happen if we prayed down evil from its pedestal?! Or do you not understand its real and powerful foothold? Look around; from where do you think the current distresses of this country arise?
If you still haven't bought in, tell me this: Where does the theory of covering rottenness with niceties hold together in this life we're living? An ill-tempered child dressed prettily is still rotten. A bad policy smothered with incentives is still rotten. An abuse patted down with make-up is still rotten. You finish the list and please, do tell where the repackaging of a nasty thing blossoms into something beautiful. You say, "Ahh, lighten up; I did it as a child and I'm all right." Open your eyes; it's not all about us and this is not our elementary world. You're raising your child well? Well, then teach them how to discern good from bad. Or would that ruin your fun? Maybe there's more "fun" in the fearless; ones who don't give stage to the frightfulness of demonic practices and prescences.
Saturday, October 29, 2011
Ta Ta for Now
You know what my family looks like and I know what yours does. You know what we do and why we do it. For most of you, I can say the same. If I post, then I feel compelled to scan through all your posts, as well. That's just the right thing to do ...right? Micromanaging is not a temptation for some of you ...good for you. If I have you as a "friend" then it's for a reason. Honestly, I tire of reading lengthy writings and never receiving so much as a thumbs up from some you now and then. I get that you don't agree with my every whim or care to read about them. Be sure that if I don't care to read your negativity, cursings, or "sellings", then I've hidden you or deleted you. Is that the right thing to do if I care to be a positive influence? Not sure, but this is "my space" and I have limits, too.
I was on the cusp of retiring Facebook again. A clean break was easy for me last night when Mike put on something he thought funny and I thought sarcastic. I don't "do" sarcasm. I detest it. Whatever you've got to say to me, say straight up ...no grins, no dual meanings. Did I overreact? When everything I do boils down to accusations of hormone swings or suspicion, then I get agitated. I've said before that but my fervor needs to be legitimized without a shadow of question looming over it.
That said, married life has been pretty great the last weeks. I'm sure this is a litmus test. I actually plan to drop the subject but it sealed my fate with Facebook ...for a while anyway. A good friend of mine speaks of "seasons" of a person's life and I agree with her. I've been called to take a bare bones approach to the family over the winter ...in every way. I don't mean to strip us of any excitement, because I do believe life isn't worth living without passion; but patience, preparation, and timing are everything.
I love a challenge. Everyone should have one to feel alive. Right now mine is reinstating the basics. How many of us are running around lacking the fundamentals because we can't stop long enough to consider them? I've asked, technically laid down the law, that sports subside here for the winter season (with the potential exception for one child for good reason). We're well adapted to social and physical arenas, so I hold no regret of cherishing the idea of restoration through the winter, so as to ready for the busyness that warm weather inevitably brings.
Sometimes I fret over everyday things that the kids haven't covered at particular stages. It all usually rounds itself out in the midteens; nevertheless, I don't want to leave any "rock" unturned ...even though I know character trumps all knowledge. As a family we have another challenge to pay off 2 debts next year. Because we've had so many financial ups and downs, we're equipped to baton down the hatches on spending. I get almost "aroused" by the prospect. I love seeing where God provides an opportunity or deal that is so apparently His.
The thing we're missing the most is the very thing I missed in my own childhood - a family togetherness that entailed a living prayer life. I don't mean the kind that requires a kitchen table but does require the active participation of most of the members most of the time. I don't mean the repetitious kind; I mean the believing kind. I mean the kind that expects real workings of God himself ...but does not assume we deserve any such kindness. I mean the kind that changes the future by changing our hearts ...even the physical state of hearts. McKala is to see a cardiologist on Thursday for abnormal symptoms. Another child is to see a doctor that evening for something just as serious. I also believe sincere family prayer binds us together and defeats the attempts to separate our souls from each other ...and our sins from visiting our children, which is no light subject.
When will I be back? Good question. I've thought of trying the "stalker" version that some of you have, not letting anyone know you've been around; that would be just to check in on anyone I'm concerned about. Will I keep blogging? I'm gonna ask God about that one. I had a blog a couple of nights ago regarding the sex toy party I went to. It was light-hearted fun and I get the point; I just know after 22 years of marriage that technique, location, creativity, trust, and comrardy are the keys. I think it would've made an entertaining piece. I am a well of opinions and experience but even though these "blogs" are coming to me more quickly and with better precision, if I'm overriding what needs to be done at home to express them, then my words aren't worthy of the paper or screen space I'm using.
I want to come back reinvigorated. I want to report that the battle with my own dispicline has tilted toward success. I'm hoping my 2 pairs of jeans and 2 bras will be ready to be replaced with smaller sizes. Any of us who frequent social media cannot whine that we've made our best attempt at our best self if we're sitting inordinately on ever spreading rumps and leaning on our ever protruding bellies. Getting to know each other and supporting each other are lovely concepts, but without physically putting in the time on our own turf, getting the dirty work and drudgery done, we can't "put our money where our mouths are".
I was on the cusp of retiring Facebook again. A clean break was easy for me last night when Mike put on something he thought funny and I thought sarcastic. I don't "do" sarcasm. I detest it. Whatever you've got to say to me, say straight up ...no grins, no dual meanings. Did I overreact? When everything I do boils down to accusations of hormone swings or suspicion, then I get agitated. I've said before that but my fervor needs to be legitimized without a shadow of question looming over it.
That said, married life has been pretty great the last weeks. I'm sure this is a litmus test. I actually plan to drop the subject but it sealed my fate with Facebook ...for a while anyway. A good friend of mine speaks of "seasons" of a person's life and I agree with her. I've been called to take a bare bones approach to the family over the winter ...in every way. I don't mean to strip us of any excitement, because I do believe life isn't worth living without passion; but patience, preparation, and timing are everything.
I love a challenge. Everyone should have one to feel alive. Right now mine is reinstating the basics. How many of us are running around lacking the fundamentals because we can't stop long enough to consider them? I've asked, technically laid down the law, that sports subside here for the winter season (with the potential exception for one child for good reason). We're well adapted to social and physical arenas, so I hold no regret of cherishing the idea of restoration through the winter, so as to ready for the busyness that warm weather inevitably brings.
Sometimes I fret over everyday things that the kids haven't covered at particular stages. It all usually rounds itself out in the midteens; nevertheless, I don't want to leave any "rock" unturned ...even though I know character trumps all knowledge. As a family we have another challenge to pay off 2 debts next year. Because we've had so many financial ups and downs, we're equipped to baton down the hatches on spending. I get almost "aroused" by the prospect. I love seeing where God provides an opportunity or deal that is so apparently His.
The thing we're missing the most is the very thing I missed in my own childhood - a family togetherness that entailed a living prayer life. I don't mean the kind that requires a kitchen table but does require the active participation of most of the members most of the time. I don't mean the repetitious kind; I mean the believing kind. I mean the kind that expects real workings of God himself ...but does not assume we deserve any such kindness. I mean the kind that changes the future by changing our hearts ...even the physical state of hearts. McKala is to see a cardiologist on Thursday for abnormal symptoms. Another child is to see a doctor that evening for something just as serious. I also believe sincere family prayer binds us together and defeats the attempts to separate our souls from each other ...and our sins from visiting our children, which is no light subject.
When will I be back? Good question. I've thought of trying the "stalker" version that some of you have, not letting anyone know you've been around; that would be just to check in on anyone I'm concerned about. Will I keep blogging? I'm gonna ask God about that one. I had a blog a couple of nights ago regarding the sex toy party I went to. It was light-hearted fun and I get the point; I just know after 22 years of marriage that technique, location, creativity, trust, and comrardy are the keys. I think it would've made an entertaining piece. I am a well of opinions and experience but even though these "blogs" are coming to me more quickly and with better precision, if I'm overriding what needs to be done at home to express them, then my words aren't worthy of the paper or screen space I'm using.
I want to come back reinvigorated. I want to report that the battle with my own dispicline has tilted toward success. I'm hoping my 2 pairs of jeans and 2 bras will be ready to be replaced with smaller sizes. Any of us who frequent social media cannot whine that we've made our best attempt at our best self if we're sitting inordinately on ever spreading rumps and leaning on our ever protruding bellies. Getting to know each other and supporting each other are lovely concepts, but without physically putting in the time on our own turf, getting the dirty work and drudgery done, we can't "put our money where our mouths are".
Sunday, October 23, 2011
Finding Church
Right now, I'm sitting in a rocker on the front porch overlooking the shadows cast on the property by the late afternoon sun. I like the "stillness" of it all as much as anything. Only the "little ones" and I are here. Macklynn is playing the Wii feverishly and after buttoning my sweater for me (for the first time :), Madalynn is "toting" around a kitten.
"Finding church" has been on the backburner for a while. It always seems like at least one of us is under the weather, out of town (or otherwise engaged), or missing a crucial wardrobe piece. When a child or two requests church going, a parent shouldn't just make the effort, they (we) should make it happen, especially when it concerns serious inquiry into verses like Mark 3:29. This morning it didn't matter that we've fallen back into late bedtimes or that I have unease with "visitor" scrutiny (even having to remember to check my breath). 3 of us managed to form an expeditionary group this morning and went on our way to a church we've been invited to a number of times.
Reality is a good mindset to have before stepping foot into a place of worship. Corruption is the inevitable temptation with authority. Someone in leadership will fall to it, probably because they never should've been there. Ideally church shouldn't be viewed as "school" either. The Sabbath really is a day of WORSHIP, not just learning. There are 6 other days to accomplish that. So, don't "expect" to be served. The desire to be "fed" is commendable, but search your soul for the desire to give. There is always someone who needs to hear your truth. The honest details of your life make you authentic and usable for God's intervention into a life, yes, even if it's just one.
The other thing I thought of on the way down the highway was that I don't want a "feel good" prosperity based preacher, nor do I want a "hell fire" shame based preacher. Oh, and I don't want one who talks "over the heads" of ordinary people and children. I also prefer HE/not SHE use the King James Version Bible (the unadulterated, unbiased truth). Excuse me if I'm looking for the ultimate. I've seen so many teachings and have firmed up my opinions over the years. Whatever insight into life I've gained has suddenly risen to the surface this year in the form of writing and I hope to goodness means something to someone. It's hard for me to swallow my own truth sometimes, so don't think I take it lightly.
In service now, a high school auditorium ...music was loud (which works for me) and quite well played ...the words to praise music always seem watered down to me though. Then, a huge screen the size of the stage dropped down and there was the preacher ...kinda Star Trekish ...he and the backdrop were lifesize but they weren't "real". It took a good 10 or 15 minutes for that to settle in. I thought it was at the very least interesting that the word "church" was written behind him after I'd already decided on this title, "Finding CHURCH". He was preaching what church should be. He said a couple of things early on that I personally felt made his approach weak. It sounds like he's opted out of politics (for what he deems a higher purpose). He spoke of uniting as if in a small community, when I'm trying to step outside the secrecy of small town business and goings on. He went on to say that they have "peacemakers" in their congregation to specifically arbitrate personal differences (which seemed foreign). At that point, one of the children slipped me a note, "We aren't coming back here."
He had sounded too tolerant, too peacable, too feely ...BUT as he spoke with his sleeves rolled up, he made it clear how important cohesiveness is to believers and how important it is to step out of our comfort zone to find a place in a person's heart where we can be trusted. They have a program called "At My Place". It's having people into your home who are put off by the church "building" and what it often erroneously represents. The thing that deeply struck me was the offer of Baptism immediately following the alter call. I completely understand the philosophy of couseling a new salvation to ensure it is indeed "that". This thing was refreshing though. Is it not how John the Baptist operated? The entire audience moved outside and witnessed the "washing away", the outward demonstration of a newly cleaned life. I was so moved at the sincerity and the "in this very moment" happenings that tears fell from my face onto my chest. There is nothing more beautiful than the rebirth of a soul.
Will we go back? Will Mike like it? Will I like how the children are taught? Idk. Idk. Idk. What I do know is that I found something good. Our search for the depth of Christ and those who love him never ends. Our "schooling" is only maximized when we get out there and experience the constant evolutions of men, our surroundings, and our means of knowing God better ...and sharing them. People who don't "know" Him don't understand that we want to "share" Him for nothing else but the ecstasy we want them to "have" with Him.
"Finding church" has been on the backburner for a while. It always seems like at least one of us is under the weather, out of town (or otherwise engaged), or missing a crucial wardrobe piece. When a child or two requests church going, a parent shouldn't just make the effort, they (we) should make it happen, especially when it concerns serious inquiry into verses like Mark 3:29. This morning it didn't matter that we've fallen back into late bedtimes or that I have unease with "visitor" scrutiny (even having to remember to check my breath). 3 of us managed to form an expeditionary group this morning and went on our way to a church we've been invited to a number of times.
Reality is a good mindset to have before stepping foot into a place of worship. Corruption is the inevitable temptation with authority. Someone in leadership will fall to it, probably because they never should've been there. Ideally church shouldn't be viewed as "school" either. The Sabbath really is a day of WORSHIP, not just learning. There are 6 other days to accomplish that. So, don't "expect" to be served. The desire to be "fed" is commendable, but search your soul for the desire to give. There is always someone who needs to hear your truth. The honest details of your life make you authentic and usable for God's intervention into a life, yes, even if it's just one.
The other thing I thought of on the way down the highway was that I don't want a "feel good" prosperity based preacher, nor do I want a "hell fire" shame based preacher. Oh, and I don't want one who talks "over the heads" of ordinary people and children. I also prefer HE/not SHE use the King James Version Bible (the unadulterated, unbiased truth). Excuse me if I'm looking for the ultimate. I've seen so many teachings and have firmed up my opinions over the years. Whatever insight into life I've gained has suddenly risen to the surface this year in the form of writing and I hope to goodness means something to someone. It's hard for me to swallow my own truth sometimes, so don't think I take it lightly.
In service now, a high school auditorium ...music was loud (which works for me) and quite well played ...the words to praise music always seem watered down to me though. Then, a huge screen the size of the stage dropped down and there was the preacher ...kinda Star Trekish ...he and the backdrop were lifesize but they weren't "real". It took a good 10 or 15 minutes for that to settle in. I thought it was at the very least interesting that the word "church" was written behind him after I'd already decided on this title, "Finding CHURCH". He was preaching what church should be. He said a couple of things early on that I personally felt made his approach weak. It sounds like he's opted out of politics (for what he deems a higher purpose). He spoke of uniting as if in a small community, when I'm trying to step outside the secrecy of small town business and goings on. He went on to say that they have "peacemakers" in their congregation to specifically arbitrate personal differences (which seemed foreign). At that point, one of the children slipped me a note, "We aren't coming back here."
He had sounded too tolerant, too peacable, too feely ...BUT as he spoke with his sleeves rolled up, he made it clear how important cohesiveness is to believers and how important it is to step out of our comfort zone to find a place in a person's heart where we can be trusted. They have a program called "At My Place". It's having people into your home who are put off by the church "building" and what it often erroneously represents. The thing that deeply struck me was the offer of Baptism immediately following the alter call. I completely understand the philosophy of couseling a new salvation to ensure it is indeed "that". This thing was refreshing though. Is it not how John the Baptist operated? The entire audience moved outside and witnessed the "washing away", the outward demonstration of a newly cleaned life. I was so moved at the sincerity and the "in this very moment" happenings that tears fell from my face onto my chest. There is nothing more beautiful than the rebirth of a soul.
Will we go back? Will Mike like it? Will I like how the children are taught? Idk. Idk. Idk. What I do know is that I found something good. Our search for the depth of Christ and those who love him never ends. Our "schooling" is only maximized when we get out there and experience the constant evolutions of men, our surroundings, and our means of knowing God better ...and sharing them. People who don't "know" Him don't understand that we want to "share" Him for nothing else but the ecstasy we want them to "have" with Him.
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