Ain't Gotta Be Bad to Be Fun

        I realized we had to start preparing early this year for our 4th of July party.  So much was undone from last year.  We've worked on the maintenance bit by bit, but much has gotten in the way of it:  Mike working in Oklahoma, Megan and Miranda rejoining us, McKala working, Michael interning and making earrings hand over fist, and all going to and working at summer camp and VBS (which I might've blogged about if I'd had the time).  Melody made friends with a Godly family there and has been spending time with them instead of fretting over worldly things.  I couldn't be more thankful for it.
     Who would complain about such good things?  Apparently me!  The night before the party I lost my mind on everybody, even though I'd given them permission to do the things that took them away from time on the house and yard.  I was overtired and certain we wouldn't be able to make things presentable before the "event".
     The day before I was the one who had to be gone from home all day.  I had to take Melody to her orthodontist appointment and we had to finish holiday shopping.  I didn't buy any decoration that isn't "Made in America"!  Later, I had my regular Tuesday night "session"/class ...actually, counseling. 
     Mike had asked me Monday if I'd be home to receive a package on Tuesday.  When I finally dragged in at a quarter 'til 9, McKala said I had something on the chest of drawers in our bedroom.  I found a plane ticket there and while I was rambling through my mind what that meant, Mike walked out of our bathroom.  He'd been gone to Moore, Oklahoma for 5 weeks.  I screamed like an Army wife would!  I'd just told him last week that he'd been gone so long that I felt like I truly missed him and that we had a new place to start from.  Call it what you will but it was the truth.
     Here he sits beside me watching "American Pickers" as I recount what turned out to be our best party ever.  Thursday morning everybody got up, even though Megan and Miranda had driven back from Oklahoma 18 hours arriving at midnight.  Melody decorated with streamers and balloons, flowers and books; Michael pressure washed; McKala headed to work but had already taken on the clutter, floors, and baseboards with Macklynn and Madalynn; Miranda painted; Megan pressed almost 100 burgers (I bought beef every time I thought it was a good price, not knowing I'd stocked up well over 30 pounds) and I push mowed (which God knows I need the exercise from), while Mike took the kids intermittently for rides on the Harley he'd rented the day before.
     He took me to Logan's for our 24th anniversary that was Monday!  We got to witness for the first time TOGETHER as our waitress divulged the details of her life and listened intently as we told her the parts of our story that were similar to her and what God has done with them.  He drove straight over to the dealership to rent himself a little piece of freedom and although I needed to be preparing for the party that night, I found myself on the back of that motorcycle.
     It's completely awesome that he got to be home for the party since it all started years ago because the 4th of July is his favorite holiday.  It'd been raining for days though and we weren't sure how it'd go, nor was anyone else.   It got off to a slow start but within the hour, there was hardly anywhere else to put food or people.  Kids were jumping into the pond.  Our patriotic compilation was playing.  "The Warrior Song" was on when I passed through the carport.  I half heartedly apologized for the hard core nature of it, not realizing that we had a Marine among us ...who'd just been doing flips off the trampoline into the water :)
     There were pick-up games of basketball in the driveway and pick-up games of checkers on the front porch. The teens soon gathered around the water slide Michael put together before he grilled those dozens of burgers.  Since there were upwards of 60 people, I asked Mike if he would pray with the "dry ones" in the carport so we could eat in shifts.  It's still odd yet wonderful to hear him do that.
     The brindle Pit Bull puppy Michael brought home Wednesday from the Vet's office and named Pippy Lou was a huge hit.  I don't think she was put down for more than a few minutes.  She even got to spend part of the evening hammocking with some of the kids.   Our new piglet was a close second for attention.
     As the mounds of burgers, salads, treats, and fruit disappeared, the lighting of the bonfire began while children swam around the pond and others were swung on the swings.  I was utterly surrounded by friends, not just any friends but the kind, new and old, who've shared with us in our times of need and our times of celebration, people who love God to their cores, people who've brought us food and clothes; mowed our grass; taught and lent their ears to us; opened their homes to and smiled upon us despite their own tiredness, loneliness, sickness, hardship, or busyness.

     Here was a spectacle of a night ...without lewdness: cursing, bikini baring, drinking, bickering, or making out.  We did have a close call with the music though!  As McKala and I were picking out the songs from iTunes on Sunday, I added a favorite of mine.  It's the story of how a rock singer "sold his soul" to the devil to become famous, but realizes he's really just a country boy patriot at heart with a "Don't Tread on Me" flag flying above his property.  Problem is that although he says "drinking from the bottle, that's not me", he also said, "but I smoke a little weed".  We discovered it after it was on all 12 of the CDs McKala burned for "party favors".  I can't imagine how I'dve explained that to our pastor's family when they got it home!  So, now I have a dozen on them stacked on my desk ;)
     Thank God, we escaped injuries and arguments and storms.  The display went off without a hitch after the kids played with sparklers, made s'mores, and settled down on blankets.  It didn't start raining until the last 2 cars were about to leave.  Michael offered to retrieve one to which she originally said "no", but laughingly passed her keys to him after he "insisted".  And it's a good thing because he slid right down the yard to get to it.  I had to pretreat his shirt down the front and the back!  She snickered, "That could've been me!" ...love her humor, and the dedication of another:  that although quite pregnant and adorably so, she had the sink full of suds to wash up even though almost everyone else was outside.
    These are "my people".  This is "my country" in more ways than one.  All this has inspired lots of questions from the kids.  I believe we'll be cracking a few of those books we decorated with before they make it back to the shelves.  "Glory, glory, hallelujah" is taking new form!  The fact that America was founded on all that is wholesome is being cemented into the hearts and minds of our family through times like this past Thursday night. 
     Today, we were still wondering whose stuff is whose hanging on our line and we were eating leftover hamburgers ...and that's just fine.

 

 

 

Reminders

     I just came in from the porch listening to the laughter of the family Melody is photographing.  A family friend picked up on her ability to take good candid shots.  She has an eye for light and graphics.  I'm so glad because she so easily falls prey to what her peers are portraying that she often can't see her own possibilities.   The surrounding pictures are ones she took of her sisters in the last week.
     As the family arrived, McKala drove up with Michael.  She picked him up from the internship he's doing with a large animal veterinarian.  McKala had asked me to come by Chick-fil-A before I dropped Michael off.  She had gotten me a gift card and had made a special dessert.  To top it off, her superior came to the table and said, "I haven't told McKala this yet but she is such a hard worker.  I could train 100 people to go out in the dining room and I'd have to go behind what they left, but McKala, not at all." 
     We'd come by to see McKala after I'd taken the boys fishing at the lake.  Macklynn had been invited to come fishing at the residence of McKala's boss.  Out of good will, he said he could come any time and Macklynn surely took him up on it.   He spotted him to hit him up halfway through the meal at church Wednesday night. 

     We were met by their Chocolate Lab and the neighbor's Pit Bull/Boxer mix. We walked down the hill to the dock as church bells chimed in the distance.  As soon as Michael put on his new line, Macklynn dropped his night crawler down in the water and started catching Brim right away.  Michael casted toward a fallen tree and almost had a big one.  The two of them argued which had more value and Macklynn won with the meal all his small ones would make compared to Michael's no catch at all! 
     I took off my button up shirt, flipped up my jean legs and sat there in their white Adirondack chair surrounded by all God's glory in my bare feet and white tank, with my hair blowing in the clear blue sky.   It was such a change from the "jagged little pills" I had to swallow the day before.  Most everyone was venting their frustrations that we never seem to complete anything, that I start things and don't finish ...and they're right.
     It was humbling to sit again in the presence of the One who set into motion the waves of the water, the wispy clouds of the sky, and the varying foliage of the trees.  He's the one who sends the warmth of the sun to find me as if it's the touch of His own hand.  There I was sharing it with our boys in a place offered by people who surely didn't have to. 
     The boys threw bread out for the fish.  Soon enough the Lab figured it out and swam out to retrieve it for himself.  The other dog visited with me and I got to squeeze its precious face the way I used to Tootsie's.  Then they'd run off to find driftwood to tug away from each other.  Soon enough, it was time to get lunch and leave Michael at the Vet's office.  On the way home, Macklynn was sitting behind me and said, "I had a good time."  He doesn't say much, so I know he meant it, just like when he and I were sitting on the porch in the rockers a few days ago; and as we looked toward the pond, he asked, "How will Earth become Heaven?" and followed it quickly with, "Will there be fish there?"  He finished it pensively with, "I hope so."  Those are the moments I live for, the moments that make it okay when things are undone. 
     When we got home, Miranda had cleaned out the carport, started the laundry that's piled up over the last 2 weeks of dirty well water, dusted and organized the bookshelf, mowed the front yard, and weed eaten the important areas for Melody to do the photo shoot that she forgot to tell us she had offered our property for.  This morning she got up and helped Michael cultivate our neighbor's garden with the horse he would normally use, except that the neighbor had a heart attack and just got out of the hospital.  That man is already out mowing his yard and ours and has just left this Saturday morning to do someone else's!  Michael is weed eating for him in exchange.  That same neighbor stopped by the other day on his motorcycle and as we talked about how Michael doesn't gun, the way most boys would, his Dad's old dual motorcycle he rides, he said, "My mama would've given anything to have a kid as good as Michael."  From a man who doesn't hand out many compliments, I was grateful to hear it. 
     Michael has also just left the earrings he's been making at the local general store.  He's already sold close to a dozen pairs this week to other people.  He and I were probably an interesting looking couple at "Michael's" craft store searching for the perfect jewels to place in the primer of the spent bullet casings.  You know, we may sometimes fall short of what the world expects on its timetable of proper knowledge, but I'm writing down for my pleasure these reminders of what the kids are able and willing to do with their abilities and creativity and generosities, of where God is putting them in His scheme of things.  All knowledge does not have to be crammed into 12 years.  Life is a building of relevant information and when it's gotten and appreciated in God's timing, then paired with skill and a good nature, it makes for a "sweet life".  You know, like the Paul Davis song.  Look it up; it's one of my all time favorites.
     That song always makes me think of Megan.  She's been calling all week.  She's left the rat race and is awaiting the "go" for the internship she's interviewed for in the ministry.  She's been spending time and having conversations with her grandparents.  She went to yard sales with her Pop yesterday just the way she used to.  She went to a Braves game where a couple of special young people sought her out as their "leader" in the group.  God is moving and I can't wait to be a part of the revealing.  Gracious, I'm all teared up again thinking of that song, all that Megan's lived through since childhood and conquered, and who she's becoming in spite of it and because of it. 
     I love being a mother, even when I tend to stink at it.
    

Lamentations

     I'm involved in a study, a Bible study.  Wouldn't you know it came about the same time that I determined again to read the Bible from the beginning; so instead of doing one or the other, I'm doing both ...whether I have "time" to or not. 
     In was "assigned" this morning to read Lamentations 3:22-23.  Instead, I decided to check a few things on the computer first.  I saw that we have $105 in our account.  I read friends' updates.  I began wondering why the "well man" hasn't come yet and if we will.  I thought about what I ate last night.  I finally went to the porch to read and considered how much yard work there is to do because of the rain, except that the riding mower needs a belt that we can't afford just yet.  Then, I remembered that we should just push mow.  Afterall, what makes sense about exercising indoors when there's work to be outdoors?  Yet, restoration of ab tone doesn't always come with regular activity.  I started thinking about our neighbor who had a heart attack, then that we haven't planted anything in the garden he plowed us and that we should seed for a fall garden ...and so on and on and on I thought, until I remembered I was out there to read God's Word and to hear what he has to say specifically to me, not even about my family and friends, but about me and to me. 
     Back to Lamentations:  it's hard for me to read verses out of context, so I started at the beginning of chapter 3 and it stung me like wasp.  If you are serious at all about finding God, you will also take the time to read Lamentations 3.  It begins with, "I am the man that hath seen affliction by the rod of his wrath.  He hath led me, and brought me into darkness, but not into light.  Surely against me is he turned; he turneth his hand against me all day."  Read for yourself all the feelings he continues to spell out.  If you suffer at the hands of an oppressor or even a situation, you surely will understand.  Then, in verse 21, he comes to his senses, "This I recall to my mind, therefore have I hope.  It is of the Lord's mercies that we are not consumed, because his compassions fail not.  They are new every morning:  great is thy faithfulness." 
     I halted there, knowing my error.  If only we would go to the Lord straight away every single morning.  I could've seen Him clearly instead of through the myriad of issues I have at hand.  He knows it's going to rain again tonight and that, yes, we got up late and that it's okay to get outside for a while because learning can be done tonight since Mike is away and it won't detract from our time together.  He knows what a mess I make when I plan.  He knows that I want my children to love His Word and that if it isn't being received well that I hesitate to move forward to other subjects.  He knows that I was brought up like most everyone else these days, compartmentalizing.  He knows that I think everything needs its place and time and how hard it is for me to learn the natural paths of things, "a little here and a little there".  He knows I procrastinate when I don't know what to do, when things aren't going my way.  He also knows I owe my children an apology for not following Him daily, because ...I know they excel in important matters but that I've failed them in things I've deemed less paramount.  As simple as those things may be, they too hold value in the order of life.
     All I had to do this morning was start it by PRAISING Him instead of PLEADING to Him, you know that prayer most of us have, "Show me!" "Help me!" "Save me!" "Give me!"  Now, is that really trusting?  That He will answer, yes ...but that He IS helping already, no.  I could've said immediately, "Thank you for the safety and comfort with which you guarded us and gave us rest last night.  Thank for a new day to rest in obedience of your will for me."  But, no, I had to quench my curiosity about ongoing matters.  Thus, I went to God with a racing mind and troubled heart.  And we must know we can and should do that, BUT how can God teach us Who He IS if we never come to Him in silence, ready to be filled with His presence and His Word?
    So, beginning in verse 28 I read, "He sitteth alone and keepeth silence, because he hath borne it upon him.  He putteth his mouth in the dust; is so be there may be hope.  He giveth his cheek to him that smiteth him: he is filled full with reproach.  For the Lord will not cast off for ever:  but though he cause grief, yet will he have compassion according to the multitude of his mercies.  For he doth not afflict willingly nor grieve the children of men."  I could hardly move from these verses.  You may've noticed I don't have as much to say lately and I had just read why.  God is teaching me things I don't claim to understand right now.  But these I know:  that I trust Him and that He's taking me somewhere I haven't been with Him. 
     In shuffling through "school" materials, trying to toss out anything that isn't fundamental, anything that is diverting us from gravely important things; I found an old handout that describes the path to Christian maturity as desire/"want to", dedication/"try to", determination/"got to", and finally discipline/"how to".  I've been hung at determination so long that the "got to" just won't let me stay where I am.  And I'm just plain tired of not making it to discipline, struggling with the same things I've found in my old letters.
     Verses 39-41, "Wherefore doth a living man complain, a man for the punishment of his sins?  Let us search and try our ways, and turn again to the Lord.  Let us lift up our heart with our hands unto God in the heavens."
     Do we think because we aren 't blatantly disobeying commandments that we are good?  Do we think because we have "respectable" positions and homes that we aren't sinning?  When is the last time you read James 4:17, "Therefore to him that knoweth to do good, and doeth it not, to him it is sin"?  You and only you are accountable to that statement.  God and only God knows if you've ever known Him at all.   Are you doing as much as you can or as little as you can?  Are you searching or are you hiding?  These are the questions I'm asking myself and in my silence, I'm finding the answers to.

Runneth Over

     When I was having my coffee this morning standing in front of the window, I saw for the first time the great big turtle taking his exaggerated steps across the driveway and into the pond.   After a quick errand, a truly unique visit from a friend, a call from Mike on his way to Oklahoma that he was at a hospital with another kidney stone, and an empty handed return home from the kids when the store closed just before they arrived.  So since we didn't get a belt for the riding mower, pushing was on the menu again, but not before I got a few minutes to myself with the majesty of my surroundings.
     I sat by the pond breathing in the beauty of it all and not much less impressed than I was of the ocean.  It is the same sky, the same wind, much the same water brimming with life beneath and above it ...but with a canopy of leaves shielding me from the sun, which it seemed like I was praying for everything under ...when God told me to "be quiet".  You know, like "be still and know that I am God".  And when I cleared my mind to do just that, a big wind came as if He were breathing on me.   Then, I thought how my presence must tarnish the scenery.  The "scenery" needed to be groomed and I was reminded that even in its unkemptness, God's creation is just plain beautiful, as is each of his people.  What a relief that my Father thinks I'm beautiful even when, and perhaps especially when, I'm a mess.
     Before long, we had a push mower and 2 weed eaters buzzing.  After 3 hours, the older ones got a reprieve to go and dog sit for the night so that our good friends could flitter away to the coast for the day :)  McKala had been at work and then to "camp" to visit her close knit friends from out of state who've returned for the summer, so it was just Madalynn, Macklynn, and me.
     Macklynn fished nonstop, catching Large Mouth Bass, catfish, sunfish, and Crappie.  He raced his bare feet back and forth to the barn for worms.  Madalynn mostly talked about things she doesn't have, which I discourage.  She just has had in her mind that a tree house would be fantastic.  (It IS one thing in all these years we haven't had.)  I raked and raked some more.  I just about have it how I want it. 
     I came in sometime in the middle of it all and decided it didn't make any sense not to have supper by the pond with them, so we did.  Then it didn't make any sense not to burn the leaves and limbs, so we did.  And then it didn't make any sense not to let them roast marshmellows, so we did ...even if they were miniature ones ;)  Skewers did the trick! 
     We sat outside way after the sun set and the lightening bugs flashed against the black silhouettes of the tree line and the hoot owl returned our calls. We added to and turned the pile over and over to let it breathe.  Finally, they played with it a little too much, blowing coals off the limbs they pretended were sparklers.  I sent them in to clean up. 
     There I was again, alone in the presence of the One who lets us live in this setting.  Actually, I wasn't alone.  Smokey was there.  He always is.  I don't have to call him.  I probably couldn't get him to leave even if I wanted him to.  It was well past his time to be in his doghouse, but that's not who he is.  He stays until everyone is where they're supposed to be.  How we could take cues from a lowly dog.  Mia was there also stretched across the sand like it was the best thing in the world.  The cats even came down to investigate.  The bats swooped low for their nightly catch.  The bullfrogs and toads took turns with their songs.  And then I saw a "shooting star".
     I knew this was one of those days where "my cup runneth over" ...and that I'd better put it in writing.  And so I have, goodnight. 
     BUT not yet, Mike just called here after midnight to say the driver of the wrecker that came to get him yesterday and the same one who took him to the hospital today and the same one who took him on a round trip of 6 hours to get an expensive part that, yes, Mike put on despite his pain, told him about his 9 adult children and their mother who passed away 5 years ago and that he hasn't talked with anyone else about the void he's had 'til today.  Man, God can and will do so much in the midst of chaos. 
     Today just got even better.  Oh ...I guess that would be yesterday.  So ...TODAY just got off to great start.  I have 2 sleepy heads in my bed and after I shower, hopefully I'll be too tired to be awoken by their squirmy little bodies because their brother and sisters are making their debut in the choir in the morning!  If you get close to me today, my cup might just spill on you.  I can't help but tell people how good God is.  Life is Good, but God is Better.  And if someone's already said that, then that's too bad :)
      
  

Stories by the Beach

     I'm sitting in the dark in a condo on Panama City Beach.  I was determined to get going this morning so Madalynn could swim in some shade, but a migraine ensued while I was talking with a lady at the pool.   

     It's a perfectly gorgeous day over the turquoise and green striped water and the white sand.  Everyone but me has enjoyed it.  And that's okay; I'm thankful there is medicine and that I don't suffer from migraines all the time or for days, like some people I know.  The Weather Channel is on.  We are especially interested because Mike could've easily been called away to drive his relief truck.  For now, it's been worked out and he'll get there soon enough.  Some of the kids are planning to follow him to Oklahoma.  How devastating for that community.  It's so crazy because just last eve as I was taking pictures of Macklynn and Madalynn on the beach, I couldn't get over how small the ocean makes me feel, how the design of the sun and the horizon proves God is the grand mathematician, how the life beneath it proves He is the ultimate biologist, and how the intoxicating beauty proves He is the master artist.  

     Madalynn and I were supposed to have a picnic and fly kites on the beach late this afternoon; instead, Mike has the 2 little ones out fishing.  I tried peeking through the curtains and the light made pain surge through my head again.  It's awfully nice to be here alone and comfortable in this white flannel gown of mine, yes, the same one I had on driving Mike's big yellow truck into the truck stop as he kept it going with ether until we could fuel! 

     Miranda is "conveniently" driving the older ones down "the strip" to get ingredients to broil the shark Mike, Michael Jr, and Macklynn caught last night off the pier.  Mike and I spent time in 1988 doing just that, cruising in Barry Somebody's Corvette.  This beach goes back way further than that for Mike though.  He's been coming here before he can remember.  His grandparents owned a couple of places in Venture Out across the road.  He has all kinds of memories.  Our last trip here in 2006 was our last "real" vacation.  We also brought Megan here when she was just a little thing.  That was the trip I rode back with Mike's MawMaw.

     There was another lady at the pool this morning, the one we were with in the hot tub last night.  She sat with her granddaughter 2 chairs down and said to her, "The last picture I have of your grandfather was on those steps over there.  I can't believe he's just never, ever coming back."  The 9 or so year old said something and then her grandmother took her hand and said, "We have to talk about him so we don't forget him," and then she cried outloud.  Man, I can't even write this without crying again.  There I was reading my book about learning to love and she had lost the love of her life.

     I brought a veritable library of Godly writing.  I set it up so the kids would have access to whatever they need right now, heavy or light.  Megan snatched up "Stepping Heavenward," which is the book I looked for so long for McKala, that Megan had all along on her bookshelf in Georgia.  As we returned last night with some groceries, the lady staying below us asked, "Was your daughter reading 'Stepping Heavenward' next to us this afternoon?"  I said, "Wow, yes, that's an old book; never heard anyone else talk about it!"  Turns out she has it and loves it, and so does their 22 year old daughter. 

     I had already wanted to talk with her but didn't have anything to start up a conversation with until then.  This morning before my migraine took hold, I was able to ask her about her sickness.  You see, she completely bald.  She's been fighting breast cancer since last year.  Good news is that prayer and chemo have made her clear; rough news it that radiation awaits her after her celebration vacation.  Sweet news is it that one of our girls overheard her husband tell her how beautiful she is the day before. 

     There has been story after story we've encountered here, making it way more than a getaway.  Macklynn's highlight was meeting and getting his picture taken at a gas station with an Extreme Bass Pro Fisherman.  Madalynn has made friend after friend.  The pretend play with her figurines has made her a great communicator.  As the big kids were a big hit "hammocking under the pier", having picture after picture taken of them and the beach patrol stopping to say he'd never seen it in all his time; Mike was moved hearing the handicapped man in his intertube saying "Mama" this and "Mama" that.  She took such tender care of him. 

     As we awaited the waves breaking and floating them out, I noticed the sophisticated woman in a black large rimmed hat consoling her teenage son.  He'd broken down in tears as he sat on the cooler.  She was holding his arm and whispering in his ear.  It made me wonder if they'd lost someone, too.  Then beside me, as family of six were playing, the little boy said to his mother, "Thank you for bringing me here."  She didn't hear him, so he repeated it.  He really wanted her to know. 

     It's so easy to be disenfranchised looking at all the bad, especially in this place deemed the "Redneck Riviera" and "the strip" up the road, but if you look for good, you WILL find it.  For this woman who's trying to love again ...and who knows? maybe never really did, not the way God desires; pieces of her are breaking off left and right.  She's down to a big ole pile of mush right now as she types in the haze of the remaining Benadryl she took.  All she knows is that God is moving ...and that's all she needs to know.

A Weekend to Remember

     Last night, after Mike got back from Asheville (where I found out later he spent a couple of hours befriending Will Graham, Franklin's son, in his office looking at the collection of stones ...right up Mike's alley); and after Mike and I sat on the porch listening to the toads and watching the lightening bugs as the rain fell gently, Melody and I finished cleaning the carport and stowing things away in the attic and McKala was drawing me a bath.  Macklynn led me to the bathroom and swung open the door, so I could see the room lit with candles; music from my NOAA alarm playing; a chair beside the tub with a fresh towel, a glass, and a bottle of sparkling grape juice; AND Madalynn sitting on the seat doing her business!  Macklynn laughed so hard he couldn't speak and McKala sat down in the hall laughing.
     I didn't realize until today that McKala had put milk and honey in the water.  I just knew how nice it all was in the flickering light of the candles on every surface.  When the plum colored Clematis, that Madalynn and Macklynn had given me for my hair earlier, fell to the water and floated, the final touch was made; or so I thought.  About 30 minutes later McKala commanded that I unlock the door.  I thought something was wrong, but she was standing there with cinnamon rolls and milk for me.  You're beginning to see why I enjoy Mother's Day more than any other holiday and was apparently so looking forward to it that I forgot to get anything in the mail in time to our mothers :/.
     This morning McKala set her clock to surprise me with the things she'd gone to the store for yesterday.  She's so happy to have a job so she can contribute; she gave me $20 already this week to "tan" or whatever I need for the beach.  She came in our room with a tray full of food: eggs, pecan pancakes, orange juice, hot chocolate, more cinnamon rolls, and bacon, plenty of bacon, which is normally something we ration.  She and Melody had made sure everyone knew what they were wearing to church the night before and had it ironed, including my pants.
     While I got ready, Melody sat a vase of flowers from the yard and a card on the nightstand.  I didn't know until we left that she had also decorated, which explains the noise I kept hearing while I was in the bath:  the ribbon being curled and the tape dispenser being used.  We sang for the first time in the choir and the sermon was fantastic, as always.
     When we got back, McKala put together some snacks, although I was not hungry, and we went out to the freshly trimmed yard that Michael spent 4 hours on yesterday.  To our beach, Melody brought jugs of hot water, a bowl, scrub, and lotion for my feet.  I think it must've taken her an hour to finish by the time she was done massaging.  It's a lot of work, but she's offered to do it ever since she was old enough, 5 or so.  To me, it's a very special "washing of feet".
     McKala sent Madalynn to get "what's in the freezer".  She came down with lime popsicles.  She thought of everything, just the way Megan and Miranda used to do.  I dozed off and on under the sunlight peaking through the leaves being tossed by the wind as Mike, Michael, Macklynn, and Madalynn fished.  Macklynn's fish are growing quickly.  However, Michael excitedly caught a 5 lb Largemouth Bass, that broke Macklynn's line last week, which must've been in there before we stocked it.  It's so funny to hear Madalynn name off the species of fish as though it were nothing and run to find worms under anything that can be moved as though it's natural for all girls.  Hours later, when I came back in, Melody was ready to paint my toenails for the "real" beach.  I told her to surprise me and now I have bright green nails highlighted with fuscia flowers.  As they were drying, Miranda, who'd been looking up the Florida beach with binoculars for her sister, called me and told me all about their weekend and especially how they'd learned to cast nets off my Dad's boat today.  I know that she and her Daddy planned to get me the 12 week old, 20 lb blonde Pit Bull puppy at the feed store that wouldn't take its face from my neck long enough for me to get a good look at it ...precious.  I appreciate Mike wisely deciding that even though I miss my Tootsie so much, we don't need the expense of another animal.
      Megan made it back from her walk before we hung up and I thanked her for my card that says begins with, "Mother, sometimes I'd like to roll back the clock and return to my growing-up years so I could make up for all the times I didn't thank you enough."  I remember being rough on her, so I thank her more so for the message she sent me saying I am her best friend.  They say, don't try to be your child's friend; but when they are adults, nothing is sweeter.  I love being a mother, but can't imagine sometimes why God allows it, when on this Monday morning as I finish up here, I know that I'll never get done all that should be this week.  He loves me anyway ...just like we all love our children, and should never let the stress of the other stuff get in the way of it.  Thank God for a day like Mother's Day to stop and see beauty, when so many other days, I run against the wind, blind to God's delicacies that surround me.

I'd Wonder

     Mike has a large swelling of his supraclavicular lymph node on the right side, not good, and now the skin is red, really not good.  I'd be lying if I didn't admit there were times when I wondered what it'd be like if he were gone, "gone" gone.  The Holy Spirit would grab me instantly and remind me that he might not be saved.   I, then, would fear for my own life.  In the last couple of years, I've also wondered what it would be like if I were gone, "gone" gone.  He'd almost have to be the leader, the disciplinarian, the "source".  I've written before that if I could just make it until Madalynn is an adult, I would have had enough time on this earth.  Now, I've asked God if "that" is even the best?  What if I were "gone"?  Couldn't that be a good thing?
     Last night, I lay in bed while he was in the bathroom wondering what it be like if Mike were really "gone".  I looked to my right where the large framed print hangs of the snowy picture he took off the ferry that he and McKala and his truck were taking.  I looked in front of me, the Virginia Creeper coming head on.  He loved going to get the next print, loved palling around with the artist. 
     I remembered the other night: when he came in for church and the smell of grease drew me to him and the kids were embarrassed that I said it.  However, the smell of his Zest soap and Right Guard Sport aerosol deodorant are like repellant to me, but would that matter if he were "gone"? 
     The old timey radio with the turntable he bought sits on the kitchen counter.  For a "country boy", he has a taste for nicer things and is so diversified in them.  His purchase timing has always stunk and until now, we've always owed more than he made.  It's been enough to drive me insane.  But would it matter if he were "gone"?  Those nights after he's left for a trip and I have some "freedom" from the intensity of his personality seem so liberating, but what if he never came back?  Truth is no one can replace Mike. 
     He's random and spontaneous and brave and genius and brutally honest.  Would losing him, even with the fascination of himself that remains, be worth it?  He may drive me and the children crazy with his neverending study of himself, but truth is we never feel more safe than when we're with him ...unless he's driving the car, that is.  I have to consider that for the most part of his adult life, he's been alone in a truck, by his own choice ...nevertheless,with himself and all the time in the world to think of himself and how he feels.
     If he were "gone", I wouldn't get calls at the most inconvenient times about the newest global happenings.  Then, maybe I wouldn't get any calls at all.  Maybe, I wouldn't want any calls from anyone else.   I know about myself that I desire approval, but from worthy sources.  There just aren't that many worthy men.  There's no one else who has fathered my seven children.  And as much as I feel like he doesn't know me sometimes, I don't know that anyone else would either.
     I'll be starting some counseling soon.  I'd thought I'd be a help there, but I'm told I need "help" before I can be a help.  I always wondered if I brought an indifference into the relationship, if I wasn't whole long before he and I tore each other apart.
     Tomorrow is Mother's Day.  Mike is gone showing his Disaster Relief Unit/Truck at The Cove in Asheville.  Miranda's with Megan and my parents on the way to gulf of Florida.  McKala's at work.  I'm sitting here eyeballing the pond, hoping against hope that the sun will continue to shine; so I can partake in its glory.  I love where I live and I attribute it all to God, but truth is if Mike didn't allow or support my being here full time with the kids, my life would look completely different.  What if Mike were "gone"?  How much would I appreciate it then, when the lifestyle I cherish switched gears, when I didn't have him paying my way? 
     Say that's cold all you want.  People say, "Don't stay together for the children."  Really?!  What will life be like for them when you're apart?  People say, "Don't stay together for the money."  Really?!  What will life be like when you're supporting yourself?  Of course, there's a bigger purpose!  The Lord knows that and that's why he tells us to obey his commands.  He "gets it".  He "understands".  He "gets" me, even when I don't "get" myself.  He knows better than I.  He loves me, even when I don't know how to love.
     You ask, "How then is your life not all 'rosey' if He's so good?"  Well, my life's not over; neither is Mike's.  I have to recognize that he's wired differently than anyone I know.  I think his brain and chemistry really are unusual.  But I know, no matter the hurtful words that are spoken and feelings that are reciprocated, he has "come clean"; he loves now to hear songs praising his Savior; he gave up the fight to be wealthy; his eye no longer wanders, even though I'm hardly a thing to behold right now; he prayed with me the other night; and I believe he longs to be somebody he hasn't ever been.
     So, why do I seek and destroy every time a red flag goes up?  Where is my faith in my Creator?  In my endeavor seeking perfection into sainthood, which all true Christians are espoused to do,  I hold my light to him and lose sight that even though we are "one", we are separate beings and at times, on different paths.  All this is HARD, really, really hard; but I will never trust my ways above Christ's.  I want so badly to be madly in love, no, not really, just madly in friendship would be a good place.
     But what if Mike were "gone", it'd just be me surrounded by memories that, although often were tainted, were still memories of a wonderful roller coaster ride I've been on where God has molded me and toughened me and made me glad for the blessings he has given me.   The iron tea pot on the stove would remain and remind me of the time he found it in a yard and cleaned it up and seasoned it ...because he knew I love cast iron.  I'd want my back scratched and no one would be there in the night to do it until he tired.  I probably wouldn't be able to wear that "over-the-top" full length raccoon pelt coat he bought me for my 40th birthday, him knowing I'd never buy such a thing for myself. 
     I'd sit outside and see the road signs he had put up because he didn't see any sense in another person wrecking in the curve, much less another death.  And guess what, there hasn't been a serious wreck in the 4 years since.  I wonder if I'd be like my friend Denise's husband, who's left her Facebook page open and has been posting pictures of and letters about her even though she's been "gone" since last year.  She took a nap and never woke up. 
     I wonder if I'd wonder what I could've done differently, if my intentions were really as good as I thought they were, if I'd really tried to understand and take care of him the way he needed to be, even when he made me want to pull my hair out.  I reserve so much because oftentimes I'm damned if I do and damned if I don't, but does that matter in the scheme of eternity?  I wonder if when one of the kids would smile at me, I'd see his expression.  Truth is there will never be a life for me without Mike because he's in every direction that I turn my head and in every thought or move I make, even when I'm unaware of it.   Mike and Michelle, 24 years of marriage in a month a half, still getting on each other's nerves, still harboring things, still opposite in as many things as we are not ...but still bound in something bigger than ourselves that has brought us here.  I don't have to wonder what that is.  All I have to do is believe that it is real and that it heals.