I hadn't been to the garden in 2 weeks, although it's been on the list daily. We had camp, a collision, college prep, and a trip to Charlotte, among other things. I had a skeleton crew of 2 younger children, so I assumed falsely that since it's rained often and there's been no need to fertilize or use pesticides, that things would hold up. When Michael came home from camp, he rode over on his Daddy's old dirt bike, as he always does, and returned disappointed. He's helped cultivate and pick, becoming fond of the process. Passing through the room, he asked, "What was the point of doing it?"
This morning I walked 2 miles with Miranda before she went to work. When she went in to shower, I nabbed Smokey in the carport to brush away his shedding hair. It made sense to take in on over across the creek to the garden, to deter deer. Driving over and from a distance I was shamed to already see what Michael had described, that except for the corn, it didn't even look like a garden.
I put on my gloves and shouldered the hoe to begin surveying the overgrowth. It didn't take long to find that "strangers" were enjoying our garden. The fish line fence had only fooled them for so long and needs a higher strand now, so the temptation is harder to quench. The garden looks a mess to me but to the onlookers, it must be enticing.
I began with the sweet potatoes, tracks running alongside and leaves nibbled upon. I was glad that they are yet to be ready for harvest ...glad that they lie low as pressing work gets done. I moved to the squash that Mike planted as a second round ...thankful that they are still flowering since the first ones are either overgrown or decaying. Even those can be cast to the cows, removing waste from the picture.
I had moved to the peppers on my knees weeding them by hand before this blog came full circle. Let them, the pepper plants: banana, cayenne, jalepeno, habanero, be our "men", the spice of life. Mine's branches were bending, heavy with produce, peppers ready to drop, a few already had ...for some other creature to acquire ...because I hadn't received what was mine.
Behind me was the corn, some of it trampled on, some of it being eaten away by beatles. Let them be our "friends". I have 2 particular friends I've needed to visit: one being destroyed by trespassers of her yesterdays, one being worn away by the 93 years her body has given her. I was reminded that a note might suffice for now, just as long as they know they aren't forgotten.
The big project will be the 96 tomato plants that we didn't finish putting twine up for between the posts. They are laden with fruit touching the ground, rotting, ripeness wasted. Let them be our "children". We've lost opportunities for relevant learning and sweet moments. The great thing is that there are loads of green tomatoes, gracing me with time to recoop some of those losses.
How little work would I have if I had raised my fence, been a careful steward, and had timely gathering? How about you? Do you even recognize your garden? Would you be distraught if someone visited it? Is someone stealing from it while you look the other way? Are things ruining from the inside out, tossed to the wayside? Have you planted too many seeds, making you spread too thin? Is it all out of sight, out of mind? If so, bring it in closer to home.
The good news is that the ground was still wet and a breeze was blowing. The birds were chirping and the dogs sat guard. There is still time to salvage my mess. God's patience and mercy don't cease to amaze me.
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
Sunday, July 22, 2012
What Mike Would Do
On this past week's 1988 calender of mine, Wednesday says, "Mike in hospital." He was there for smoke inhalation. 19 year old Mike was a volunteer firefighter. Maybe those guys are crazy, looking for a rush; but when my or your child is in danger, we couldn't be more thrilled to know them.
In the news this week is the shooting in Colorado. Several guns the medical student had, taking time to reload ...and no one rushed him. I understand it's a death wish and I definitely have to question myself on it, but I think it's safe to ascertain that one reason we cower to protect our existence is because most of us are simply unsure what will become of us in death. Meanwhile, children were being mowed down. Were there not any "men" in the room, much less civilians bearing arms?
A man's man Mike is. He began early, working outdoors on the golf course. Before that he played football and rode anything with wheels on as few wheels as humanly possible. He hung out at a body shop, went to bartending school, but was an apprentice plumber in Atlanta when I met him. I very clearly remember (down to what was on TV) the man I babysat for asking me if I really wanted to marry someone who did "laborious" work. I can't remember what I said, but I was probably thinking, "You don't know 'Mike'".
In the months leading up to our wedding, he went to truck driving school. It seemed like a great big adventure to him. His was hired to deliver furniture and I went with him anytime there was a break at GSU. For me, it was like getting paid to vacation. Best we can tell, our first daughter was conceived while we were delivering in Intercourse, Pennsylvania!
Before long, he was on to limo driving. He was of such interest to one client from South America, the president of Wells Fargo, that he took Mike in to eat with his family at a very high end restaurant in Atlanta. Ah, and I just remembered that he came to pick me up and take me out one time.
He delivered tankers full of milk for Atlanta Dairies and gas for, was it BP? He even betrayed Coke and delivered Pepsi for a while. And oh yeah, he was a painter for a while, painting jet skis for Yamaha. The guys used to come over after second shift and play cards at our house.
I'm sure he remembers the details better than I but he entered into a partnership with an old friend and began a pizza takeout. It was a good location and great food, almost too good because they had so much business that service became an issue. His friend walked away from the business at the urging of his snooty wife. Then the bottom just fell out.
Mike was on the road again but as a charter bus driver this time. His fondest memory of it is taking a group of teens to Colorado and climbing a mountain with them under a full moon and then basically sliding back down, wondering if he would survive. A close second was a church group and an older black lady who asked him some questions that began an encounter with God. At that point, after much consideration and a visit to the barracks of The 88 Mike, he enlisted in The Army, only to have a car hit him at a red light, with injuries that required knee surgery.
His quest continued with a position as dump truck driver for an explosives company. There, he and another driver decided to go into "business" together and wound up driving and dispatching 7 trucks. This time though, the bottom not only fell out but also sucked in our entire world.
Mike felt like there was nothing to do but start fresh. I, pregnant with our fourth child and first son, moved from Georgia to North Carolina with him ...funny though, we were on our way to Maine, which we'd flown to and loved. His uncle had a propane business nearby and set him up on a Hank Hill stint. At some point, he ended up being an Animal Control Agent for the county, but found himself on the road again when ends weren't meeting.
I forget the order sometimes, but he got back into trucking in the seat of a dump truck he contracted to the state for road work. He tried to expand and employ other drivers, but after several weeks of good report, his best driver "went off" and locked himself in his house. We had to take the truck and still don't know what happened.
Mike always has an ear out for something better and landed a job "piggy backing" Freightliner trucks all over the country. He got to fly back and had so many miles that he rode in first class. It didn't take him long to discover there was better money to be made, so we bought the famous "yellow truck" and began transporting by way of "lowboy", living pretty large ...until the union took over.
He tried hauling used cars and oversized flatbed loads. He finally had "enough" and enrolled in technical school, after all he knew almost everything about engines by then ...interesting that our oldest daughter went instead. Anyone who knows us well knows what happened next: the aortic bypass that sent him and the rest of us into a tailspin and rooted us here in New Hope.
Right now he has his own "authorities", completely responsible for all expenses: insurance, equipment, maintenance, repairs ...with no: paid vacation or holidays or "benefits". What he has though is our 7 year old son on a venture cross country. They started here in North Carolina, drove alongside the Columbia River to Washington State and are on their way back to the east coast, Rhode Island. They've gotten out to touch redwoods and rivers. They've watched the wildlife looking out over the hood of a truck. Each of our children has gotten to do these things.
Erratic much? You betcha. He's a layman, an entrepreneur, and even an inventor. He had a factory build a quality stainless steel telescoping handled carry-on toolbox but the materials were expensive and he just stopped pursuing it. He's a history and current events buff. On its roads for almost a quarter of a century, he's seen the economic and moral changes across the nation. He's stopped and tried all he could do to rescue dozens of people. He's looked into the eyes of a man who was pleading, clenching Mike's shirt ...trapped, burning alive. The extinguishers couldn't put out what the damaged fuel pump was feeding into the fire. I know, because 5 of the kids and I were there with him in Arkansas that day. Another time was a car on fire beside a gas pump. Mike parked our car in the road, ran in his coat and tie, and helped someone push it out of the way. And just a few months ago, he witnessed a man beating a woman in downtown San Antonio. He parked his rig right there, jumped out, and proceeded to deck the guy unconscious.
I know I've forgotten and didn't mention other things here; but in our time away from each other, he thinks I forget him. This is to remind him that I know there are plenty of masculine men around but not many are among the brave, the dedicated to family so much so that he would do anything to support his wife at home with his 7 children.
Most of us aren't precisely sure what we would do if a madman stormed the room ........... but I know what Mike would do.
In the news this week is the shooting in Colorado. Several guns the medical student had, taking time to reload ...and no one rushed him. I understand it's a death wish and I definitely have to question myself on it, but I think it's safe to ascertain that one reason we cower to protect our existence is because most of us are simply unsure what will become of us in death. Meanwhile, children were being mowed down. Were there not any "men" in the room, much less civilians bearing arms?
A man's man Mike is. He began early, working outdoors on the golf course. Before that he played football and rode anything with wheels on as few wheels as humanly possible. He hung out at a body shop, went to bartending school, but was an apprentice plumber in Atlanta when I met him. I very clearly remember (down to what was on TV) the man I babysat for asking me if I really wanted to marry someone who did "laborious" work. I can't remember what I said, but I was probably thinking, "You don't know 'Mike'".
In the months leading up to our wedding, he went to truck driving school. It seemed like a great big adventure to him. His was hired to deliver furniture and I went with him anytime there was a break at GSU. For me, it was like getting paid to vacation. Best we can tell, our first daughter was conceived while we were delivering in Intercourse, Pennsylvania!
Before long, he was on to limo driving. He was of such interest to one client from South America, the president of Wells Fargo, that he took Mike in to eat with his family at a very high end restaurant in Atlanta. Ah, and I just remembered that he came to pick me up and take me out one time.
He delivered tankers full of milk for Atlanta Dairies and gas for, was it BP? He even betrayed Coke and delivered Pepsi for a while. And oh yeah, he was a painter for a while, painting jet skis for Yamaha. The guys used to come over after second shift and play cards at our house.
I'm sure he remembers the details better than I but he entered into a partnership with an old friend and began a pizza takeout. It was a good location and great food, almost too good because they had so much business that service became an issue. His friend walked away from the business at the urging of his snooty wife. Then the bottom just fell out.
Mike was on the road again but as a charter bus driver this time. His fondest memory of it is taking a group of teens to Colorado and climbing a mountain with them under a full moon and then basically sliding back down, wondering if he would survive. A close second was a church group and an older black lady who asked him some questions that began an encounter with God. At that point, after much consideration and a visit to the barracks of The 88 Mike, he enlisted in The Army, only to have a car hit him at a red light, with injuries that required knee surgery.
His quest continued with a position as dump truck driver for an explosives company. There, he and another driver decided to go into "business" together and wound up driving and dispatching 7 trucks. This time though, the bottom not only fell out but also sucked in our entire world.
Mike felt like there was nothing to do but start fresh. I, pregnant with our fourth child and first son, moved from Georgia to North Carolina with him ...funny though, we were on our way to Maine, which we'd flown to and loved. His uncle had a propane business nearby and set him up on a Hank Hill stint. At some point, he ended up being an Animal Control Agent for the county, but found himself on the road again when ends weren't meeting.
I forget the order sometimes, but he got back into trucking in the seat of a dump truck he contracted to the state for road work. He tried to expand and employ other drivers, but after several weeks of good report, his best driver "went off" and locked himself in his house. We had to take the truck and still don't know what happened.
Mike always has an ear out for something better and landed a job "piggy backing" Freightliner trucks all over the country. He got to fly back and had so many miles that he rode in first class. It didn't take him long to discover there was better money to be made, so we bought the famous "yellow truck" and began transporting by way of "lowboy", living pretty large ...until the union took over.
He tried hauling used cars and oversized flatbed loads. He finally had "enough" and enrolled in technical school, after all he knew almost everything about engines by then ...interesting that our oldest daughter went instead. Anyone who knows us well knows what happened next: the aortic bypass that sent him and the rest of us into a tailspin and rooted us here in New Hope.
Right now he has his own "authorities", completely responsible for all expenses: insurance, equipment, maintenance, repairs ...with no: paid vacation or holidays or "benefits". What he has though is our 7 year old son on a venture cross country. They started here in North Carolina, drove alongside the Columbia River to Washington State and are on their way back to the east coast, Rhode Island. They've gotten out to touch redwoods and rivers. They've watched the wildlife looking out over the hood of a truck. Each of our children has gotten to do these things.
Erratic much? You betcha. He's a layman, an entrepreneur, and even an inventor. He had a factory build a quality stainless steel telescoping handled carry-on toolbox but the materials were expensive and he just stopped pursuing it. He's a history and current events buff. On its roads for almost a quarter of a century, he's seen the economic and moral changes across the nation. He's stopped and tried all he could do to rescue dozens of people. He's looked into the eyes of a man who was pleading, clenching Mike's shirt ...trapped, burning alive. The extinguishers couldn't put out what the damaged fuel pump was feeding into the fire. I know, because 5 of the kids and I were there with him in Arkansas that day. Another time was a car on fire beside a gas pump. Mike parked our car in the road, ran in his coat and tie, and helped someone push it out of the way. And just a few months ago, he witnessed a man beating a woman in downtown San Antonio. He parked his rig right there, jumped out, and proceeded to deck the guy unconscious.
I know I've forgotten and didn't mention other things here; but in our time away from each other, he thinks I forget him. This is to remind him that I know there are plenty of masculine men around but not many are among the brave, the dedicated to family so much so that he would do anything to support his wife at home with his 7 children.
Most of us aren't precisely sure what we would do if a madman stormed the room ........... but I know what Mike would do.
Wednesday, July 18, 2012
Mayo Mom
Wow, so I entered this contest that required a video audition and I know I'm living a supersize me, but good heavens, I'm big ...standing there holding a mayonnaise jar smiling like a possum (I did win an award for the possum smile in 6th grade ;)
The interesting thing is that before I left, I thought I look pretty decent. I'll repeat myself from this morning's Facebook post, I'm way bigger than I feel. But the camera don't lie, well maybe a little, but 10 pounds ain't the problem here.
My arms are huge, runs in the family. Honestly it does. Good thing I started using Michael's weights after we cleaned the garage and could get to them! I've told myself and I know it's true for others, if we attack the problem areas, we automatically feel better. So, I guess my aching muscles fooled me into thinking a T-shirt looked okay!
Another thing I do is revel over that 5 or 10 pounds I've shed, get a few compliments, and fall right back into my old groove. It never takes me long to feel sluggish and unattractive/unavailable to my husband again. When I get back on track; the metabolism I find, the energy I find, the sweat I put out are all affirmations that I don't need much food at all.
The food I need is the same food in smaller portion. I already eat whole foods. From the garden, I have ample access to vegetables, so I need to ramp them up and lower the carbs and, yes, even the good ones.
My life is just too good to let self consciousness be a part of new memories. The kids are growing too quickly to not run and play with them. Vacation is too seldom to hide behind a towel at the beach. Mike is too good to me now to not lay my body back at the altar of marriage.
My Facebook profile picture is the year before Mike and I married. My arms draped across his shoulders look so natural, so do his hands around my waist, making it look so small. Since then I've had a few reasons to neglect them, but anytime I put my interests and pleasures above those of my husband's, I'm cheating on him ...yeah, with food.
Striking that pose in the mirror giving my best 2 dimensional angle just doesn't cut it anymore. Life is 3D. Scales don't lie. Excuses don't matter because we gotta face 'em. Time is what you make it, so make the time. I know all this because I have plenty of experience getting back into shape ...yes, 7 babies, 3 with excessive weight gain.
In the audition, my hair looked ...what's the word? ...anyway, not good! I told our girls I had to make my hair bigger because fat people's heads look small, but I guess it fell with the humidity, lights, and prespiration. I know people think I should cut it but my inner voice tells me my body should match my hair, not my hair match my body. There's a girly girl screaming for me to stop crushing her with all the weight!
In a couple a minutes, I'm headed to the basement to that bench and bar. I have to clear my mind because it tells this body what to do and right now it's looking at a whole lot of housework, but "looking" like a housewife really sucks. So, I'll get to those tasks a little later and I'll cook a meal we all love a little after that ..."little" is the key word here. A little here, a little there and I've got a little me, the original sized, instead of supersized :)
The interesting thing is that before I left, I thought I look pretty decent. I'll repeat myself from this morning's Facebook post, I'm way bigger than I feel. But the camera don't lie, well maybe a little, but 10 pounds ain't the problem here.
My arms are huge, runs in the family. Honestly it does. Good thing I started using Michael's weights after we cleaned the garage and could get to them! I've told myself and I know it's true for others, if we attack the problem areas, we automatically feel better. So, I guess my aching muscles fooled me into thinking a T-shirt looked okay!
Another thing I do is revel over that 5 or 10 pounds I've shed, get a few compliments, and fall right back into my old groove. It never takes me long to feel sluggish and unattractive/unavailable to my husband again. When I get back on track; the metabolism I find, the energy I find, the sweat I put out are all affirmations that I don't need much food at all.
The food I need is the same food in smaller portion. I already eat whole foods. From the garden, I have ample access to vegetables, so I need to ramp them up and lower the carbs and, yes, even the good ones.
My life is just too good to let self consciousness be a part of new memories. The kids are growing too quickly to not run and play with them. Vacation is too seldom to hide behind a towel at the beach. Mike is too good to me now to not lay my body back at the altar of marriage.
My Facebook profile picture is the year before Mike and I married. My arms draped across his shoulders look so natural, so do his hands around my waist, making it look so small. Since then I've had a few reasons to neglect them, but anytime I put my interests and pleasures above those of my husband's, I'm cheating on him ...yeah, with food.
Striking that pose in the mirror giving my best 2 dimensional angle just doesn't cut it anymore. Life is 3D. Scales don't lie. Excuses don't matter because we gotta face 'em. Time is what you make it, so make the time. I know all this because I have plenty of experience getting back into shape ...yes, 7 babies, 3 with excessive weight gain.
In the audition, my hair looked ...what's the word? ...anyway, not good! I told our girls I had to make my hair bigger because fat people's heads look small, but I guess it fell with the humidity, lights, and prespiration. I know people think I should cut it but my inner voice tells me my body should match my hair, not my hair match my body. There's a girly girl screaming for me to stop crushing her with all the weight!
In a couple a minutes, I'm headed to the basement to that bench and bar. I have to clear my mind because it tells this body what to do and right now it's looking at a whole lot of housework, but "looking" like a housewife really sucks. So, I'll get to those tasks a little later and I'll cook a meal we all love a little after that ..."little" is the key word here. A little here, a little there and I've got a little me, the original sized, instead of supersized :)
Saturday, July 14, 2012
Hungry
This is the final day of our seven year old's, Macklynn's, day camp, not just any camp: Uplands Reach Conference Center, making "world changers" through Christ. There is a back story beginning with our 21 year old's, Megan's, first meeting with them, I guess 9 years ago.
McKala (15) is their youngest ever summer intern. Michael (14) was a "teen camper" and returns as a "captain" for younger camper programs. Melody (11) requested to volunteer for the second day this week and that's big because Melody is rather aloof and doesn't get enthusiastic about much of anything. So, today they have 4 of our kids and I couldn't be more glad about it as I left the building, head down, getting misty, and thanking God audibly.
When Macklynn, Madalynn, and I have gotten there at 8ish late every morning this week, McKala and Michael have already been up cleaning and preparing for 4 hours, which is also about how much sleep they get after the activity dies down at night. As I hugged McKala Monday morning, another girl, who along with others from as far away as Texas don't get to see their parents until August, asked for one. I brought a half gallon jar of Claussen-like pickles we made in June and came to be renowned in the next 2 days for hugs and pickles, which is the minimal amount I can do for what the camp is instilling in our children, even if I had to drive 720 miles this week to ensure it.
I had planned to stay and take pictures today, but yesterday turned out to be the last day this week that McKala would be working with the horses. I didn't have the camera because I intended to buy batteries on Monday, but I stayed anyway and for the first time got to see how they start a day of camp. In the gym, loud music was resonating as the 5 through 9 year olds moved to the dances they'd learned ...in selfconcious abandonment worshipping God with their voices and bodies and smiles. It was beautiful to watch 80 or so children being led by the the teens in sheer joy, no stifled or boring Christianity there ...nor showy, obnoxious people "falling out" in spiritual fits, thank goodness. They are a super clean, shipshape, upstanding, noble behaviour demanding outfit run by a dynamic evangelist and his outstanding wife. Their 3 adult children are the fruitful evidence of sound teaching and cheerful upbringing.
The groups split off and we followed outside to watch McKala teach about horse tack, but first got to see the foam waterball war they had. There was a boy on the sidelines who got to spray the hose because he's in a wheelchair. I asked McKala about him and she said the only voluntary movement he has left is in his fingers and that his MS is progressing so quickly that it's questionable if he'll make it through Christmas. Then, while a truck was dumping gravel into the drive, I was blocked from leaving and had a conversation with a mother who miscarried 4 of her 7 children. One was all the way to 34 weeks. Personal stories like these show that if those people are still professing faith, that we don't have any reasons not to stay hungry. I know the Bible speaks of peace, contentment, fed by the fullness of Christ. That's not what I'm talking about ..."hungry", as in an insatiable desire for the will of and perfection through Christ ..."hungry" enough to devour His Word ..."hungry" enough to step out of our own darkness into the darkness of another life to feed it what all the "fullness" in the world can't provide.
So many young people are indeed full: pockets lined, bills covered, every comfort - parents just trying to get their kids' school complete so they'll be "successful". Meanwhile, their liberal education and culture, despite "the church" and sadly inside "the church", are leading them down the same apathetic, lazy, entitlement oriented path as non-believers.
Something God has laid on me like a brick lately is that He does not want to hear another plan or timetable I have in mind. He wants my reliance for every thought, every action, every bite of food, every word, every penny, every minute. For me to commit to Him what is already His is absurd. All I need to do is acknowledge Him, thank Him, and quit trying to make things right for Him instead of through Him. Satan is never more clever than in mind games. And when we're distracted is when he wins.
I introduced myself this week at camp to the father of a girl friend of Michael. He joked but, in no uncertain terms, made it clear that no one, I mean no one, will get to his daughter except through him. He is not distracted. I don't know 'his' personal life but I know 'mine' and that when I don't see past my circumstances, I get distracted and lost from the most pressing honor I've been given: to have the conversations that see our children into mature, "God fearing", responsible, independent adulthood ...to be "just" friends until they can find the person who will be their forever "best" friend, the person for whom they don't have to be the moral compass, the person who doesn't confuse loyalty with codependency. Thank God for Daddys who watch after their daughters.
As Mike and I were picking Macklynn up on Thursday, he was able to inquire about the camp's upcoming sale, intentions, purposes, and destination. He was told that the present site, 100 acres, would become a place for men to come and get their lives in order. Mike told me on the way home that he wants to give his testimony to those men. Man, I can't even type that without getting teary eyed.
Right now, Mike has Macklynn and is on the way back to Washington. Madalynn is singing and riding in rain on her bicycle. Miranda and I are about to go have some time together at her Daddy's request. I'll leave you with a couple of things I saw on my ventures back home this week: an old man sitting by his house using his cane to play with his dog and a heavy set woman walking for exercise with her earbuds in, singing like no one was looking. These too made my heart smile. Find the good around you, and you'll always be "hungry" because you won't be "full" of yourself.
McKala (15) is their youngest ever summer intern. Michael (14) was a "teen camper" and returns as a "captain" for younger camper programs. Melody (11) requested to volunteer for the second day this week and that's big because Melody is rather aloof and doesn't get enthusiastic about much of anything. So, today they have 4 of our kids and I couldn't be more glad about it as I left the building, head down, getting misty, and thanking God audibly.
When Macklynn, Madalynn, and I have gotten there at 8ish late every morning this week, McKala and Michael have already been up cleaning and preparing for 4 hours, which is also about how much sleep they get after the activity dies down at night. As I hugged McKala Monday morning, another girl, who along with others from as far away as Texas don't get to see their parents until August, asked for one. I brought a half gallon jar of Claussen-like pickles we made in June and came to be renowned in the next 2 days for hugs and pickles, which is the minimal amount I can do for what the camp is instilling in our children, even if I had to drive 720 miles this week to ensure it.
I had planned to stay and take pictures today, but yesterday turned out to be the last day this week that McKala would be working with the horses. I didn't have the camera because I intended to buy batteries on Monday, but I stayed anyway and for the first time got to see how they start a day of camp. In the gym, loud music was resonating as the 5 through 9 year olds moved to the dances they'd learned ...in selfconcious abandonment worshipping God with their voices and bodies and smiles. It was beautiful to watch 80 or so children being led by the the teens in sheer joy, no stifled or boring Christianity there ...nor showy, obnoxious people "falling out" in spiritual fits, thank goodness. They are a super clean, shipshape, upstanding, noble behaviour demanding outfit run by a dynamic evangelist and his outstanding wife. Their 3 adult children are the fruitful evidence of sound teaching and cheerful upbringing.
The groups split off and we followed outside to watch McKala teach about horse tack, but first got to see the foam waterball war they had. There was a boy on the sidelines who got to spray the hose because he's in a wheelchair. I asked McKala about him and she said the only voluntary movement he has left is in his fingers and that his MS is progressing so quickly that it's questionable if he'll make it through Christmas. Then, while a truck was dumping gravel into the drive, I was blocked from leaving and had a conversation with a mother who miscarried 4 of her 7 children. One was all the way to 34 weeks. Personal stories like these show that if those people are still professing faith, that we don't have any reasons not to stay hungry. I know the Bible speaks of peace, contentment, fed by the fullness of Christ. That's not what I'm talking about ..."hungry", as in an insatiable desire for the will of and perfection through Christ ..."hungry" enough to devour His Word ..."hungry" enough to step out of our own darkness into the darkness of another life to feed it what all the "fullness" in the world can't provide.
So many young people are indeed full: pockets lined, bills covered, every comfort - parents just trying to get their kids' school complete so they'll be "successful". Meanwhile, their liberal education and culture, despite "the church" and sadly inside "the church", are leading them down the same apathetic, lazy, entitlement oriented path as non-believers.
Something God has laid on me like a brick lately is that He does not want to hear another plan or timetable I have in mind. He wants my reliance for every thought, every action, every bite of food, every word, every penny, every minute. For me to commit to Him what is already His is absurd. All I need to do is acknowledge Him, thank Him, and quit trying to make things right for Him instead of through Him. Satan is never more clever than in mind games. And when we're distracted is when he wins.
I introduced myself this week at camp to the father of a girl friend of Michael. He joked but, in no uncertain terms, made it clear that no one, I mean no one, will get to his daughter except through him. He is not distracted. I don't know 'his' personal life but I know 'mine' and that when I don't see past my circumstances, I get distracted and lost from the most pressing honor I've been given: to have the conversations that see our children into mature, "God fearing", responsible, independent adulthood ...to be "just" friends until they can find the person who will be their forever "best" friend, the person for whom they don't have to be the moral compass, the person who doesn't confuse loyalty with codependency. Thank God for Daddys who watch after their daughters.
As Mike and I were picking Macklynn up on Thursday, he was able to inquire about the camp's upcoming sale, intentions, purposes, and destination. He was told that the present site, 100 acres, would become a place for men to come and get their lives in order. Mike told me on the way home that he wants to give his testimony to those men. Man, I can't even type that without getting teary eyed.
Right now, Mike has Macklynn and is on the way back to Washington. Madalynn is singing and riding in rain on her bicycle. Miranda and I are about to go have some time together at her Daddy's request. I'll leave you with a couple of things I saw on my ventures back home this week: an old man sitting by his house using his cane to play with his dog and a heavy set woman walking for exercise with her earbuds in, singing like no one was looking. These too made my heart smile. Find the good around you, and you'll always be "hungry" because you won't be "full" of yourself.
Monday, July 9, 2012
Unload
Excuse me for the next minutes as I put it just like I see it. This morning I heard a commentator on the radio say about a girl who was "caught" in a picture, that since everything in our society is automated, surveillanced, and uploaded, that the only hope we have is that there will be no more use for the word "slut" because it won't matter anymore. Even her male counterpart said, "You don't believe that."
After we left Macklynn at camp with Michael and McKala, I took Madalynn and Melody to the park. At 10 am, there was only 1 other family there. I involuntarily thought that most kids are either in daycare for the summer or in Grandma's air conditioned place in front of the TV. I recently let the TV be turned off. Don't get me wrong; I know there is good to be had from TV. But with our switchup in schedules, it got too easy to have it on. I've lately been wondering too if air conditioning is almost as big a cuplrit, just keeping us so idle. Oh, speaking of "idols", there is just no way of getting around that the TV is the center of almost every room. What does that look like to you?
With Melody in between us, the other mom, Linda, and I sat on the bench getting some shade as her 3 boys and Madalynn ran up and down and all around. I found out even she didn't "want" to be at home. She's been out of work for a year, plus her husband doesn't lift a finger to help her with the boys. I told her I'd been home for 19 years and tried to find an "in" to give her Biblical support, but all I really left her with was my name.
To be honest, I was just glad she wasn't texting or reading "mommy porn". She was very interested in her boys and said she didn't mind spanking them in public if need be. I wish I had the guts to tell her that if she commited to being home, the natural response for her husband would be to "man up". Not knowing her any better, I hated to give that advice so I wrote down her name on my list to ensure I don't forget her.
As we were leaving, cars starting pulling in for the pool. I try not to "judge"; I "observed" the groups of kids. Again, I involuntarily thought, "They're raising themselves." They have better relationships with their friends than their families. Mom and Dad just don't make fun so friends "want" to come over. That's why things like our 4th party are extremely important to me. Why run the kids off when they can have fun nearby and with accountability? I'm not sure that what I heard on "Christian" radio on the way home was much more reassuring. The host said she and her daughter had a "whip cream" battle (fun in and of itself) as a vacation "activity". Activity? It's bad enough that we have boxed up, premade food; we're doing it with our kids. Good grief, live a little.
All this said, are we really that different from Sodom and Gomorrah? Wake up before you drift into neverland and have no part in the joy of the afterlife with the angels "over one sinner that repenteth" ...because if 'we' don't know where we're going in life, why would "the lost" want to go with us?
I'm gonna say it straight up. If your life isn't illuminating Christ, if a room doesn't shine when you walk in, then inspect whether you have even met the One you call Redeemer ...or whether you're hiding sin in thought or action and don't want to be exposed as a hypocrite. I should know. The adversary has come at me from every direction and for years found ways to keep me down, wondering, quiet ...so I wouldn't say the things I'm saying today. Game over.
After we left Macklynn at camp with Michael and McKala, I took Madalynn and Melody to the park. At 10 am, there was only 1 other family there. I involuntarily thought that most kids are either in daycare for the summer or in Grandma's air conditioned place in front of the TV. I recently let the TV be turned off. Don't get me wrong; I know there is good to be had from TV. But with our switchup in schedules, it got too easy to have it on. I've lately been wondering too if air conditioning is almost as big a cuplrit, just keeping us so idle. Oh, speaking of "idols", there is just no way of getting around that the TV is the center of almost every room. What does that look like to you?
With Melody in between us, the other mom, Linda, and I sat on the bench getting some shade as her 3 boys and Madalynn ran up and down and all around. I found out even she didn't "want" to be at home. She's been out of work for a year, plus her husband doesn't lift a finger to help her with the boys. I told her I'd been home for 19 years and tried to find an "in" to give her Biblical support, but all I really left her with was my name.
To be honest, I was just glad she wasn't texting or reading "mommy porn". She was very interested in her boys and said she didn't mind spanking them in public if need be. I wish I had the guts to tell her that if she commited to being home, the natural response for her husband would be to "man up". Not knowing her any better, I hated to give that advice so I wrote down her name on my list to ensure I don't forget her.
As we were leaving, cars starting pulling in for the pool. I try not to "judge"; I "observed" the groups of kids. Again, I involuntarily thought, "They're raising themselves." They have better relationships with their friends than their families. Mom and Dad just don't make fun so friends "want" to come over. That's why things like our 4th party are extremely important to me. Why run the kids off when they can have fun nearby and with accountability? I'm not sure that what I heard on "Christian" radio on the way home was much more reassuring. The host said she and her daughter had a "whip cream" battle (fun in and of itself) as a vacation "activity". Activity? It's bad enough that we have boxed up, premade food; we're doing it with our kids. Good grief, live a little.
All this said, are we really that different from Sodom and Gomorrah? Wake up before you drift into neverland and have no part in the joy of the afterlife with the angels "over one sinner that repenteth" ...because if 'we' don't know where we're going in life, why would "the lost" want to go with us?
I'm gonna say it straight up. If your life isn't illuminating Christ, if a room doesn't shine when you walk in, then inspect whether you have even met the One you call Redeemer ...or whether you're hiding sin in thought or action and don't want to be exposed as a hypocrite. I should know. The adversary has come at me from every direction and for years found ways to keep me down, wondering, quiet ...so I wouldn't say the things I'm saying today. Game over.
Saturday, July 7, 2012
We Digress
I came upon this quote as I was preparing for our 4th of July gathering: "Nothing is a greater stranger to my breast, or a sin that my soul more abhors, than that black and detestable one, ingratitude." ~ George Washington, 1754. I have to check myself often for this disease as I find myself in an outburst from time to time. This morning as I sat outside with my Bible that sadly hasn't been opened for 2 weeks, a hummingbird whizzed by to investigate the first blossoms of the large Mimosa tree beside the porch. I'm so distractible that instead of reading, I pondered the beauty of it all and began to pray outloud toward the sky.
I hate to ask for more than we have but I enlisted God to give Mike a vision to get him through the days that run together as he zigzags the country. I asked that Megan's headaches subside especially since she works in 100 degree heat. Miranda, McKala, and Michael all have health issues or injuries we're watching. Melody, Macklynn, and Madalynn have new levels of discipline, work, and challenge. Not everyone has as many children but I still can't imagine that anyone would deny their children anything less than every fiber of good will and intent, but they do.
Unfortunately another quote of Washington's, "Labour to keep alive in your breast that little spark of celestial fire called conscience," is numbed in our society by busyness, dissatisfaction, medication, blame, and self preoccupation. I've heard, "I'm a good person," more than I care to. They may not know it but they're agnostic, believing God has left us here with freewill and little more. I'm sorry to say that a lady I talked with this week has felt this way since she was abused as a child. She believes the only thing that set her free was her ...free will. She inferred that God didn't hear her pleas for rescue. I replied that 'people' didn't hear her, those that should be close enough to a child to see her distress. They were too busy. We Christians are so caught up in the latest and greatest or getting by and complaining about it, that we aren't making any real investment for eternity.
I have a proposal. Instead of questioning God on violence and perversion, why don't we question ourselves about the opportunities we've had to lead by example or bless the people on the fringe. Would they have become so dark and unreachable? So as I read a verse I'd seen in a new friend's writing, I found, "Be not deceived: evil communications corrupt good manners. Awake to righteousness, and sin not; for some have not the knowledge of God: I speak this to your shame." 1 Cor 15: 33-34.
We have so much crap in our lives, literally, every new decoration, new outfit, new toy, new technology that we keep China in business and manage to become useless all in one. We can't keep what we have clean because we have too much of it, so we just give up and become what we thought we'd never accept. We can't feed the children in Africa because we're paying for our weight loss programs. Besides, who can we trust to get it there? Have we set limits to where we'll go ourselves? And is it because we're in debt for things that limit us? When is the last time God was our insurance agent? Is any of it really ours anyway?
We're keeping up with the Jones's or just keeping up with the bills and leave no time for a seed we could plant daily. What seeds do we have to plant when our own lives are spoiling? A question was posed to me 3 years ago, "Why don't you ever mention your husband in your conversation?" I'm posing that question now to wives. Why don't you mention him? Is everything really "okay" or are you living in no man's land, the place no one wants be ...getting by, cohabitating, being civil? Is your fear of being alone really worth losing your passion or has it been long dead? Or do you reserve your thoughts for another man?
When is the last time we thought of the attraction of our homes, of the fun and magnetism they should have? When is the last time we were giddy that our husbands were about to walk through the door from a long day's work? Really, you worked hard too? It doesn't work like that. Home really has to be a man's refuge and if we ladies don't gear toward that, then ...well, we see where it lands us, no man's land, a place no man wants to be. Please, don't think I'm lending men a break. My own husband will tell you that he was never content no matter my effort. The man he is now proves that it mattered all the while.
What's happened to Jesus anyway? Madalynn and Macklynn came in from carport in deliberation 2 weeks ago. Madalynn (4) said that he was killed and Macklynn (7) said that he killed himself. Hmmm, all right, yeeaah, "Jesus let himself be killed on the cross but He was the essence of goodness, which can never die. Evil thought it'd won but the only way it ever wins is when, yes, our free will lets it." How do we let something so pure and simple slip through our hands? If we don't own it already, why don't we take it? Believe me; the only thing you'll lose is the you you're tired of contending with. She won't leave you readily but she will leave and with her nasty ingratitude. The quickness of her exit relies on how quickly you accept that His grace is sufficient in every circumstance, under every stress, and in every relationship.
A suffering world is waiting for her to leave, so how about now?
I hate to ask for more than we have but I enlisted God to give Mike a vision to get him through the days that run together as he zigzags the country. I asked that Megan's headaches subside especially since she works in 100 degree heat. Miranda, McKala, and Michael all have health issues or injuries we're watching. Melody, Macklynn, and Madalynn have new levels of discipline, work, and challenge. Not everyone has as many children but I still can't imagine that anyone would deny their children anything less than every fiber of good will and intent, but they do.
Unfortunately another quote of Washington's, "Labour to keep alive in your breast that little spark of celestial fire called conscience," is numbed in our society by busyness, dissatisfaction, medication, blame, and self preoccupation. I've heard, "I'm a good person," more than I care to. They may not know it but they're agnostic, believing God has left us here with freewill and little more. I'm sorry to say that a lady I talked with this week has felt this way since she was abused as a child. She believes the only thing that set her free was her ...free will. She inferred that God didn't hear her pleas for rescue. I replied that 'people' didn't hear her, those that should be close enough to a child to see her distress. They were too busy. We Christians are so caught up in the latest and greatest or getting by and complaining about it, that we aren't making any real investment for eternity.
I have a proposal. Instead of questioning God on violence and perversion, why don't we question ourselves about the opportunities we've had to lead by example or bless the people on the fringe. Would they have become so dark and unreachable? So as I read a verse I'd seen in a new friend's writing, I found, "Be not deceived: evil communications corrupt good manners. Awake to righteousness, and sin not; for some have not the knowledge of God: I speak this to your shame." 1 Cor 15: 33-34.
We have so much crap in our lives, literally, every new decoration, new outfit, new toy, new technology that we keep China in business and manage to become useless all in one. We can't keep what we have clean because we have too much of it, so we just give up and become what we thought we'd never accept. We can't feed the children in Africa because we're paying for our weight loss programs. Besides, who can we trust to get it there? Have we set limits to where we'll go ourselves? And is it because we're in debt for things that limit us? When is the last time God was our insurance agent? Is any of it really ours anyway?
We're keeping up with the Jones's or just keeping up with the bills and leave no time for a seed we could plant daily. What seeds do we have to plant when our own lives are spoiling? A question was posed to me 3 years ago, "Why don't you ever mention your husband in your conversation?" I'm posing that question now to wives. Why don't you mention him? Is everything really "okay" or are you living in no man's land, the place no one wants be ...getting by, cohabitating, being civil? Is your fear of being alone really worth losing your passion or has it been long dead? Or do you reserve your thoughts for another man?
When is the last time we thought of the attraction of our homes, of the fun and magnetism they should have? When is the last time we were giddy that our husbands were about to walk through the door from a long day's work? Really, you worked hard too? It doesn't work like that. Home really has to be a man's refuge and if we ladies don't gear toward that, then ...well, we see where it lands us, no man's land, a place no man wants to be. Please, don't think I'm lending men a break. My own husband will tell you that he was never content no matter my effort. The man he is now proves that it mattered all the while.
What's happened to Jesus anyway? Madalynn and Macklynn came in from carport in deliberation 2 weeks ago. Madalynn (4) said that he was killed and Macklynn (7) said that he killed himself. Hmmm, all right, yeeaah, "Jesus let himself be killed on the cross but He was the essence of goodness, which can never die. Evil thought it'd won but the only way it ever wins is when, yes, our free will lets it." How do we let something so pure and simple slip through our hands? If we don't own it already, why don't we take it? Believe me; the only thing you'll lose is the you you're tired of contending with. She won't leave you readily but she will leave and with her nasty ingratitude. The quickness of her exit relies on how quickly you accept that His grace is sufficient in every circumstance, under every stress, and in every relationship.
A suffering world is waiting for her to leave, so how about now?
Sunday, July 1, 2012
Rendezvous
Mike was going to miss our anniversary; so since he was traveling from Florida to Oregon, he asked me to meet in him in Newnan, Georgia, the city we met and lived 7 years of our married lives near. After pulling together most of the loose ends and doctoring Macklynn's knee that looked like he took a cheese grater to, I managed to leave Miranda in charge of him and Madalynn. Just so happened she had those 2 days off work. Just so happened, the morning after she took them to the rodeo, she got to hear a sermon, that shook up her view of the immediate future, from Neal Hatfield when she picked up our "campers". Just so happened that a man who came into Subway, where she and Dusty both work, a few weeks ago asked why they weren't married. Dusty responsibly said because of finances. That man came back this week and offered him $150 a day to work for him, a 17 year old. I guess you know nothing "just so" happens.
I arrived at 11:30 or so pm. When we woke up and got going, Mike drove us toward the golf course and I even asked, "We aren't playing golf, are we?" As he turned into a subdivision and appeared to be searching, I discovered he was looking for the house that hosted the party we met at. I've detailed that night already in my pocket calender recollections.
We'd never been there before the party and hadn't been back but we sat deliberating in front of a particular house long enough for the owner to drive out. We flagged him down and asked his last name: Robinson, the same ones. When Mike told him what he was trying to accomplish and that we knew their sons, he insisted that we come down to the house. We entered through the basement where the party was held. He led us upstairs where his wife sat, leg propped, from just having pins removed. She was no less accomodating, even pretty excited about our story and history. Everything we conversed about had odd similarities, all the way down to their son, Joey, living recently a half hour away from us in North Carolina. Mr. Robinson asked if we had already paid for a room because if not, he fully expected us to stay there. As we were leaving, he offered a sincere invitation for Macklynn to come fish in the lake next time we're in town and he took pictures of us beside the wall where Mike first planted a big kiss on me.
The pictures look like stuffed versions of who we were. Amazing what 'laxness' will do. As much so, I wish I had taken the intended time to cut my hair before I left. I wish I had put on a bra other than whatever was lying around. And I know 'slack' in the jeans is discreet but it just 'ain't' very becoming, especially Wranglers thrown on with Clarks. What the heck was I thinking? I guess I was just glad to have made it there ...and I was ...glad.
We went on to Newnan High School. Mike parked in what he thought was the spot I used to park in. He remembers me running to him when I saw him waiting there for me after school. We drove on around to the track where he drove his motorcycle up to see me a couple of weeks after we met. As we were leaving, I saw The Water Works Park behind the school and said we 'had' to go. He didn't remember why at first but I told him about the entry I would've posted that very day, honestly ~ April 21, 1988 ~ "Art Club Meeting. Mike came to see me and we went to the Water Works."
What I had been mulling over is how to deal with my past and still make my present notations positive for Mike and me. So, I found the equilibrium: That is where I told Mike and as far as I remember, only Mike up until that point, that I was advised to have an abortion years before. Keep in mind that I was only 16 during this conversation. The deed didn't shame me enough to make a lifestyle change and I think that's the case for most girls. (Now, though, every time a nurse asks how many times I've been pregnant, I'm reminded that 8, not 7, souls have been my charge.) I told him if he'd met me and I'd had a child, he wouldn't have been interested in me. He heartily disagreed.
I don't remember what got us on the subject of children to begin with, but we agreed that day: 6 children seemed nice for both us, just 6 weeks after we'd met. So, you folks who've voiced or withheld your voices that I "married down" need to know that he may've very well saved me from myself. Too, this life full of children we live is far from an accident.
We drove to a frequented gas station to get a drink. I found a Vanilla Coke, hadn't seen in years and had a laugh with an old black gentlemen about "BAMA". I must interject that the further south you go, the nicer and down the earth black people are. Just down the road was the mud bog where we spent many a weekend night. I'd never even been to one before Mike and so began my love affair with mud. It is, after all, what we're made of.
The gate was closed and fastened with 7 locks. Mike called the owner and he gave us permission to walk on down the 3/4 mile of gravel. Any other day, I'd have had on my boots and by the time we got back I had 2 raised blisters, but it was worth it ...especially the concession stand ;)
We ended up at the church I attended with Mom and my brother, Jamie. It's also where Mike and I were married. There was again a nice older black man and he was doing some work in the sanctuary. The chandeliers were all on and it was decorated handsomely for the 4th. We had taken a picture or two at each stop and took even more there.
My feet were killing me and all I could think about was getting back to the garden tub in the room, but not without bubble bath. Mike went into Bath and Body Works and I didn't think he was coming out until the sales girl walked to the car to make sure I liked what he picked. He's just not the same guy he was. :)
We were hungry too so we didn't bathe right away. After we ate and since it was Thursday night, Mike took me to family karaoke because it's one event where I actually loosen up a little. When Miranda watched the video from home that night, she said laughingly that I was so loud it shook the computer! Madalynn said I sounded "out of place"; she meant out of tune ;) The bubbles were calling our names, so we returned to the to the room to open the gifts Megan, our 21 year old who lives, give or take, 5 miles from there, had left. The automatic cork screw and set of graphic design wine glasses were ideal and lent themselves to the bottle of Yakima Valley wine Mike had bought me in Washington state the week prior.
Mike was to leave for Oregon the next morning and I was to leave for home. Instead, when he went to get ice, he extended the sweet deal he'd gotten 1 more night. We had a day of nowhere to be, no one to answer to, and no need for clothes. I can say with 'no' uncertainty that it was the most comfortable I've been with him, maybe ever. He was entirely positive until he grew tired that night and family drama snuck in. It is quite an effort to slam the door, if only for a little while for the sake of intimacy, on money, health, politics, parents, and kids. After all, we'd just watched our Supreme Court usher in another level of Socialism.
Megan came to see us, snacks in hand, at 10:30 that night. It's pretty great talking adult to adult, the person who is a culmination of all the characteristics of Mike and me. Yeah, "this" has been hard, oftentimes unbearably so, but Biblical "enduring" has its promises and beautifully unimaginable twists.
It turns out that the Comfort Inn was more enjoyable for me than The Grove Park Inn. It's all in the timing, the peace, the sense of belonging, the relentlessness that lets me know he's not going to stop perfecting this until his days are done. As Melody put it, we have a lot of anniversaries to make up for. I intend to be a very willing participant.
(With no side review mirrors) driving north, certain songs had new meaning for me. I stand in awe daily of what God can do and what he chooses to give me, undeserving of the least of them. Sometime toward the middle of the trip, I allowed thoughts to penetrate my peace. I was terribly glad to be getting back to our babies and thankful to call North Carolina home because I had been berated (by both our fathers apart from my presence). I'm not allowing them to infect me with their misery and trainwrecks they've brought on themselves. I know full well my faults and demons. I also know full well that they don't take time to understand the rest of me, nor the children. If anyone gets forgiveness soon, it'll be Mike and Michelle for the hands we were and are dealt from them. One of those twists I mentioned happens here: Mike is stopping the cycle of discontented frustrations cast on whomever is within earshot. He has decided it begins with him and I'm following his lead to find out where he's going.
Happy 23rd Anniversary, Mike. You're still "the man".
I arrived at 11:30 or so pm. When we woke up and got going, Mike drove us toward the golf course and I even asked, "We aren't playing golf, are we?" As he turned into a subdivision and appeared to be searching, I discovered he was looking for the house that hosted the party we met at. I've detailed that night already in my pocket calender recollections.
We'd never been there before the party and hadn't been back but we sat deliberating in front of a particular house long enough for the owner to drive out. We flagged him down and asked his last name: Robinson, the same ones. When Mike told him what he was trying to accomplish and that we knew their sons, he insisted that we come down to the house. We entered through the basement where the party was held. He led us upstairs where his wife sat, leg propped, from just having pins removed. She was no less accomodating, even pretty excited about our story and history. Everything we conversed about had odd similarities, all the way down to their son, Joey, living recently a half hour away from us in North Carolina. Mr. Robinson asked if we had already paid for a room because if not, he fully expected us to stay there. As we were leaving, he offered a sincere invitation for Macklynn to come fish in the lake next time we're in town and he took pictures of us beside the wall where Mike first planted a big kiss on me.
The pictures look like stuffed versions of who we were. Amazing what 'laxness' will do. As much so, I wish I had taken the intended time to cut my hair before I left. I wish I had put on a bra other than whatever was lying around. And I know 'slack' in the jeans is discreet but it just 'ain't' very becoming, especially Wranglers thrown on with Clarks. What the heck was I thinking? I guess I was just glad to have made it there ...and I was ...glad.
We went on to Newnan High School. Mike parked in what he thought was the spot I used to park in. He remembers me running to him when I saw him waiting there for me after school. We drove on around to the track where he drove his motorcycle up to see me a couple of weeks after we met. As we were leaving, I saw The Water Works Park behind the school and said we 'had' to go. He didn't remember why at first but I told him about the entry I would've posted that very day, honestly ~ April 21, 1988 ~ "Art Club Meeting. Mike came to see me and we went to the Water Works."
What I had been mulling over is how to deal with my past and still make my present notations positive for Mike and me. So, I found the equilibrium: That is where I told Mike and as far as I remember, only Mike up until that point, that I was advised to have an abortion years before. Keep in mind that I was only 16 during this conversation. The deed didn't shame me enough to make a lifestyle change and I think that's the case for most girls. (Now, though, every time a nurse asks how many times I've been pregnant, I'm reminded that 8, not 7, souls have been my charge.) I told him if he'd met me and I'd had a child, he wouldn't have been interested in me. He heartily disagreed.
I don't remember what got us on the subject of children to begin with, but we agreed that day: 6 children seemed nice for both us, just 6 weeks after we'd met. So, you folks who've voiced or withheld your voices that I "married down" need to know that he may've very well saved me from myself. Too, this life full of children we live is far from an accident.
We drove to a frequented gas station to get a drink. I found a Vanilla Coke, hadn't seen in years and had a laugh with an old black gentlemen about "BAMA". I must interject that the further south you go, the nicer and down the earth black people are. Just down the road was the mud bog where we spent many a weekend night. I'd never even been to one before Mike and so began my love affair with mud. It is, after all, what we're made of.
The gate was closed and fastened with 7 locks. Mike called the owner and he gave us permission to walk on down the 3/4 mile of gravel. Any other day, I'd have had on my boots and by the time we got back I had 2 raised blisters, but it was worth it ...especially the concession stand ;)
We ended up at the church I attended with Mom and my brother, Jamie. It's also where Mike and I were married. There was again a nice older black man and he was doing some work in the sanctuary. The chandeliers were all on and it was decorated handsomely for the 4th. We had taken a picture or two at each stop and took even more there.
My feet were killing me and all I could think about was getting back to the garden tub in the room, but not without bubble bath. Mike went into Bath and Body Works and I didn't think he was coming out until the sales girl walked to the car to make sure I liked what he picked. He's just not the same guy he was. :)
We were hungry too so we didn't bathe right away. After we ate and since it was Thursday night, Mike took me to family karaoke because it's one event where I actually loosen up a little. When Miranda watched the video from home that night, she said laughingly that I was so loud it shook the computer! Madalynn said I sounded "out of place"; she meant out of tune ;) The bubbles were calling our names, so we returned to the to the room to open the gifts Megan, our 21 year old who lives, give or take, 5 miles from there, had left. The automatic cork screw and set of graphic design wine glasses were ideal and lent themselves to the bottle of Yakima Valley wine Mike had bought me in Washington state the week prior.
Mike was to leave for Oregon the next morning and I was to leave for home. Instead, when he went to get ice, he extended the sweet deal he'd gotten 1 more night. We had a day of nowhere to be, no one to answer to, and no need for clothes. I can say with 'no' uncertainty that it was the most comfortable I've been with him, maybe ever. He was entirely positive until he grew tired that night and family drama snuck in. It is quite an effort to slam the door, if only for a little while for the sake of intimacy, on money, health, politics, parents, and kids. After all, we'd just watched our Supreme Court usher in another level of Socialism.
Megan came to see us, snacks in hand, at 10:30 that night. It's pretty great talking adult to adult, the person who is a culmination of all the characteristics of Mike and me. Yeah, "this" has been hard, oftentimes unbearably so, but Biblical "enduring" has its promises and beautifully unimaginable twists.
It turns out that the Comfort Inn was more enjoyable for me than The Grove Park Inn. It's all in the timing, the peace, the sense of belonging, the relentlessness that lets me know he's not going to stop perfecting this until his days are done. As Melody put it, we have a lot of anniversaries to make up for. I intend to be a very willing participant.
(With no side review mirrors) driving north, certain songs had new meaning for me. I stand in awe daily of what God can do and what he chooses to give me, undeserving of the least of them. Sometime toward the middle of the trip, I allowed thoughts to penetrate my peace. I was terribly glad to be getting back to our babies and thankful to call North Carolina home because I had been berated (by both our fathers apart from my presence). I'm not allowing them to infect me with their misery and trainwrecks they've brought on themselves. I know full well my faults and demons. I also know full well that they don't take time to understand the rest of me, nor the children. If anyone gets forgiveness soon, it'll be Mike and Michelle for the hands we were and are dealt from them. One of those twists I mentioned happens here: Mike is stopping the cycle of discontented frustrations cast on whomever is within earshot. He has decided it begins with him and I'm following his lead to find out where he's going.
Happy 23rd Anniversary, Mike. You're still "the man".
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