The Clothes, The Mannequin, and Me

Hello!

I've been trying to decide whether to blog here, set up a new blog on Wordpress, or not blog at all.

Truth is, I enjoy writing. There are times when the only way for me to process something is to write about it. I've long since given up on being a very regular blogger though!

I had the joy of spending some quality time with my 13 year old daughter yesterday. I took her shopping--clothes shopping. The past two times she and I have gone shopping together have ranked right up there with having a root canal. I loved spending time with her, even though there were some rocky moments.

However.

My apologies (not really) to clothing designers, manufacturers, and retail stores--much of what I saw yesterday while shopping for an Easter dress should have had P*RN PRINCESS scrawled somewhere along the mostly non-existent top. At best, the clothes would have made my 13 year old look like a 20 year old dressed for business (and I use the term loosely) during the day and hard core party girl at night.

Somewhere, I was sure I heard my Grandmother who had an affinity for the classic, tailored, feminine look huff and wonder "what in this world they are thinking?" followed by a good, Southern "bless their heart".

Shopping for clothes has never been my favorite thing to do--I'd much rather shop for books, house stuff, or technological gadgets. But, my girl is a bit of a clothes horse. I try to meet in the middle most of the time. Decency and coverage are non-negotiables. But, yesterday there wasn't much middle (or top or skirt) to meet in.

Finally the skies opened and angels sang. For there was a skirt/shirt combination that she really liked and that I felt was actually worthy of being called clothing. She ran to the rack to look for her size. I prayed.

Her size was not on the rack. I pleadedprayed some more.

The mannequin was wearing the outfit--maybe, just maybe.... Sure enough the mannequin was wearing the size my girl needed to try on.

I started to strip the mannequin myself but figured I would at least try to find a sales lady to help.

She took the arm off (I felt some degree of kinship). Turns out it was magnetic--I'm thinking my leg guy needs to work on this idea! I offered to hold the arm and told the lady that I was an amputee and, therefore, used to holding body parts.

So after stripping the mannequin, we headed back to try on the outfit. It fit! She liked it. I liked it. I felt like I had found the Holy Grail.

My other non-negotiable is that whatever we get should be on sale.

This wasn't on sale. I gladly paid for it.

I threw a scarf around the naked mannequin on the way out and thanked her for her help.









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Merry Christmas

I always say that this time of year is going to be slower than it has been in years past.

This year, that has been partially true.

In November, I found a crack in my leg. Cracks in prostheses are NOT a good thing. Skin gets pinched, stability gets compromised...in short, just makes walking a fairly painful affair.

The process of making a new leg began. It isn't a short process because it is so much easier to make changes before making the final socket (top part of the leg). After several test sockets and much gratefulness to my leg guy for working so hard to get the right fit, I have a new leg as of yesterday.

There were some issues that will necessitate some tweaks--there always are. I'm currently in the "living with it" phase to see just what tweaks need to be made. At the end of the process, I'm always amazed that something that isn't naturally a part of me somehow becomes a part of me. In fact, during the time I've been without a leg, I've learned again how much I hate just sitting!

Despite the trips to the leg place and Jeff's incident with the stairs (he fell down a flight of stairs and broke his collarbone--we were actually thankful for the broken bone; it could have been so much worse), we've managed to get the house decorated though not quite as much as usual. Lists have been made and gifts bought. Christmas plans have been made.

We are all ready for the Christmas break. Time with family, time with each other--just time!

In case I don't get back here before Christmas, have a very Merry Christmas!

Up All Night & Demises

Last night, Gracen had her first ever lock-in. She was very excited, needless to say.

She stayed up all night. She is currently staring bleary eyed at her computer, biding her time until it is deemed cool (by 12 year old standards) to go to bed.

And I realized, again, that if one member of the household stays up all night the other members essentially do too. They get to share by proxy.

This day has been a day of demises in our house. I lost what I thought was a pretty good skillet--at least it was a good size. Turns out, there are truly some things that just won't come off.

I also happened to catch sight of the hamster cage. I don't generally look in on Cookie--I appreciate her from afar. She was curled up in the wheel.

Closer inspection revealed that she was, in fact, dead. I don't know whether she was running on the wheel and just couldn't go anymore--hamster coronary, if you will, or whether it was just her time to go. I have a rather sinking feeling that perhaps her food bowl didn't get filled quite as often as it should have.

Cooking rice for supper resulted in another lost cooking vessel. Doesn't take long for the water to cook out and the rice to stick--especially when you walk outside for just a few minutes.

So we are down 2 pans and a hamster.

Two of those things will go on my Christmas wish list; one most definitely will not.

I think showers for about to be married people are ill-timed. Couples really need showers at about 15-20 years in. A celebration for not having killed each other :) and a replacement for all things household!

I'm off to do that southern Saturday tradition--hello, pigskin; Go Hogs! Think I'll also convince my kid that 7:30 is really a cool time to go to bed...

The Freak Show

It's official. My body is some weird freak show.

The recent medical issues are a case in point. After weeks of pain in all upper body joints, I went to the doctor. As he was examining me, he mentioned that my symptoms sounded viral. He also mentioned rheumatoid arthritis and some other equally sounding nasty stuff.

I got the results of the blood work yesterday. Human Parvo. Seriously? I had to google it. I knew our dogs got vaccinated against that--and that we once had a dog drop dead when my dad gave it a Parvo vaccine at home. Dead as a hammer right there on the carport. Now it is funny (not the animal dying but the circumstances around his or her demise), when you are 6 or 7...not so much.

Turns out that in children, it is called Fifth disease and characterized by a rash. In adults, it is characterized by flu like symptoms, arthritis type symptoms, and headaches. It is viral (and not transferred to humans by animals), which means it has to run its course and its course can last several weeks up to a few months--I wish I could say I was surprised but, alas, it kind of figures.

I am incredibly thankful that this is all that it is. I just am always amazed at that relatively odd things that go on inside my body.

I'll go next week to have more blood drawn and see if the levels are going down.

In the meantime, I'll stay away from the Milk Bones and hope that Jeff doesn't make me sleep on the foot of the bed :)!





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31 Days::Celebrating the Ordinary

I know that I'm a biased momma, but this girl is anything but ordinary.

And yet some of my favorite pictures of her are taken in the everyday, in the ordinary.

Those pictures are the ones that I find myself looking at again and again.

Again and again I'm reminded of how thankful I am for the privilege of being her mom.

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The Comical Version of My Life

Sometimes there is simply nothing to do but laugh. Like when you make a pound cake using your best, most tasty recipe and it sticks to the pan. And not just a tiny bit, nope, the whole top of the cake stuck in the pan.

This cake was not for our family. Not that I would have felt any better about its sad, pitiful appearance.

This cake was to take to church.
In a moment of sheer brilliance, the word trifle popped into my head. Not a dessert I had ever made before. I delved deep into the recesses of my mind checked the Internet for ideas and the bottom cabinet to make sure I hadn't put the trifle bowl in a garage sale.

Now, I don't normally like to take a new recipe to a gathering. You just never know. Sometimes you can sneak the dish in and pick it up again without anyone knowing that it belonged to you. But not always. It's just not a chance I'm typically willing to take. But, desperate times and all.

It was pretty good. Probably would have been better had I had the liquor that the recipe called for, but there was a big game in town (Alabama versus Arkansas--and those of us with Arkansas affinities won't even mention the score) and going to the liquor store on game day is only for the very brave or very desperate. I was neither.

You see, I was trying to get the cake made because I had a special dinner to cook Friday night. Jeff and I were going to "celebrate" our 18th anniversary (which was technically Sunday but between the morning service, the lunch after service, the choir rehearsals, and the Sunday night service there simply wasn't time to celebrate). I had gotten some snapper, a favorite of Jeff's and was going to make a nice dinner at home.

Due to some circumstances beyond his control, Jeff ended up not getting home until nearly 7:00 that evening. Due to circumstances that probably were within my control, I had decided to try a slightly different recipe for the snapper. Not a good move. The new recipe (or the wait on the beloved to return home--we'll never actually know which was to blame, ahem...) resulted in a dish that was way less than pleasing.

Our special anniversary meal? Steamed veggies, and bread. Oh, to have had the forethought to get a bottle of wine!

We laughed and enjoyed the evening at home with our daughter, who had had plans to spend Friday night away but they changed at the last minute.

Saturday, we decided, we'd do a little celebrating by watching a movie together after the girl went to bed. That would be fun--surely no way to mess that up too bad.

I fell asleep about 20 minutes into the movie. I asked Jeff about the movie this morning amid the mental curses to myself. He assured me that I hadn't missed much, sweet guy that he is.

We laughed again.

Here it is Sunday--our official anniversary. I'm home, he's at rehearsals at church. Tomorrow will begin another busy week.

And to think, we had decided that it was better for the budget if we didn't do gifts this year. We were just going to enjoy some time together.

I have learned some very important lessons because of this anniversary.

1) There is no one that I would rather have a screwed up anniversary with than Jeff.

2) There should always be an emergency bottle of wine in the house.

3) Next year, there will be gifts. I think it would be easier!

DIY--Here We Go Again

Over the course of our married life, we have had more laughs than I really thought possible--and many of them have been at ourselves.

So it was today.

Saturday--the day when people with Monday through Friday jobs catch up on all things domestic. We've recently rejoined this group, most days I'm at Gracen's school doing assistant type things. I'm glad to be there, I enjoy being around the kids, and I'm thankful for the enormous amounts of grace being shown as I try to kick start my brain after 12 years out of the work force. Fortunately, it's a very relaxed atmosphere!

About a week or so ago, my sweet husband replaced the faucet in the kitchen. We discovered that it needed replacing by cleaning out the kitchen cabinets for a garage sale that the school is having in a few weeks. Jeff was cleaning out while I was making various types of bread dough to restock the freezer--and then those words, "Um, honey, hand me a towel--the cabinets are damp!"

So, the dampness lead to investigation which revealed a leaky faucet in need of replacement. Jeff goes (in the monsoon type rain, I might add) to get the faucet and proceeds to replace it. Several hours later, a very soaked husband emerged from the depths to announce that it was done.

When the leak was discovered, Jeff uttered the kiss of death, "This won't take long to replace." That lead to the words we say often around our home, "Famous last words..."

You see, God in His sovereignty lead us to a 40 year old house 7 years ago. We love our house and we love our neighborhood. But, a house of that age (like most 40+ humans I know) needs a little TLC from time to time.

And that's fine if the owners have unlimited monetary resources or grand fix-it abilities. Jeff and I have neither. (If we were of the name it and claim it religious persuasion, we'd be run out for lack of faith.)

Let me backtrack just a bit. During the monsoon type rain, during the marathon faucet replacement, I happened to notice that there was water dripping in the fireplace. Being the good wife that I am, I waited until my sweet husband emerged, drenched from the depths of the cabinet, to point to the dripping fireplace--I smiled as pointed, hoping for some sort of calming effect. He looked, said a word that I won't repeat here (as it is family friendly :) ), and went to the shower.

On this fine Saturday morning, he announced after breakfast that he was going to get on the roof and replace the chimney cap or flue or whatever. He had done enough research online to teach a small course on chimney repair. See, we aren't fixers--we're geeks!

He donned his stained, paint splattered work hat, his Marvin Martian T-shirt and set out to climb on the roof. He had one ladder with which to climb onto the roof and then a step stool type ladder with which to see the top of the chimney--and he was going to try to do all of this by himself.

I stayed inside, laughed at the thought of it all, and, in a practical moment, hoped the life insurance was paid up.

A few minutes later, Jeff came back in and reported that he felt it more prudent to let a professional handle this. I didn't ask what prompted the surge of common sense but was immensely thankful.

Now it is Saturday afternoon and we are doing what all good Southerners are doing on a Saturday in the fall. The football games are on and we are contemplating painting the hall.

Famous last words....

Remembering

I have a little secret to share with you.

I have always enjoyed the television show Little House on the Prairie. My sister will say that she hates the show because I used to make her watch the reruns after school. I don't remember doing that--and anyone who knows Niki knows that she is rarely made to do anything she doesn't want to do!

Little House comes on in the evenings on some channel and I have noticed something. While there are still a few that I like, I don't like them quite as much. I can't really explain why though I think it may have something to do with reading the books a few years ago! The show is, like most shows and movies based on books, loosely based on the book.

There is one show that I remember. Three children have lost their mother--their father had long since died. The voice over of the mother says something like, "Remember me with smiles and laughter. If you can only remember me with tears, don't remember me at all."

Today, on what would have been his 88th birthday, I'm remembering Granddaddy with smiles. In fact, I usually remember him with smiles.

I'm fortunate to have a lifetime of memories to look back on. He was an active part of my life and took the time to make those memories.

The neat thing is that I'm not the only one with memories. Nanny has sixty-six years of memories to smile about today. He had 2 children, each with their own lifetimes of memories to smile about. Each of his 4 grandchildren, each of his 3 great granddaughters, a church family, a community--so many people with memories. So many people that he loved, made memories with. A life well lived.

So today, I'll think about some of the memories. I'll probably even share a few with Gracen. I may even take a nap in Granddaddy's honor (he loved his naps)!

But I'll also think of him now, in Heaven with no pain or disease, and I will be thankful for the life that he lived--and for the life he is living.

In This Moment

I decided a while ago that much that defines parenting isn't measured in weeks, months, or even necessarily years though those are certainly important. What defines so much of it, and where I seem to fail the most, are in moments.

Those seemingly insignificant bits of time that gather, almost in an instant, to form a lifetime.

My prayers have been much more moment driven lately.

My Girl,

I expect your best. Not just your best on that which is asked of you but on all that comes your way.

In this moment, may you see me give my best to that which I least want to do.

I've asked you to find something positive about someone you are having a tough time liking. Not only to find something positive but to pray for that person--and to pray, not that God would change that person, but that God would change you.

In this moment, may you see me setting the example.

Yielding our will to those in authority over us is so very hard. We've talked about this. I've shared with you my own struggles. God gives much grace for that which is hard.

In this moment, may you see me yield. May you see me yield willingly, dare I say, even happily.

Controlling attitudes and words sometimes feels like trying to control the wind. I've asked demanded that you learn.

In this moment, may you see me close my mouth.

Independence can be very useful. I've asked you to understand that you are dependent on God for all that you are, all that you will be, and all that you have.

In this moment, may you see me broken and dependent on the One I teach you about.

In this moment, may you see none of me but only that which He has done in me. And, my child, may you learn.

Memories

For much of my life, the woman that this little girl grew into was a constant in my life.

She was my Grandmother and August 10 would have been her 94th birthday.

When she died in 2006, I didn't cry much, I knew how badly she wanted to go home. That was such a comfort to me. I missed her, I still miss her but knowing that she was finally in her forever home, the place she had longed for lessened the grief.

A few weeks ago on Facebook, one of my cousins posted the simple words, "Don't worry, be happy." Those words unleashed memories of Grandma. One cousin mentioned that she remembered Grandma having a tape of that song in her big beige car. We mentioned her love of the TV show, The Golden Girls. She would laugh so hard at the antics of those old ladies. A laugh that she only had when she really tickled. An infectious laugh.

That Facebook post brought back a flood of memories for me.

I remembered being a little girl sitting on Grandma's front porch in the rocking chairs. She would sing a song about little birds. The song always changed but there was always a family of birds.

I remembered her love of quilting, sewing and crocheting--all things that many of her children and grandchildren wish we had learned when she tried to teach us. I think all of her grandchildren and many of her great-grandchildren have quilts or blankets made by Grandma.

She loved family holidays. She loved the whole process--the cooking, the decorating.

One Christmas, we all sat down at the table. There was turkey, dressing, homemade rolls--all the traditional foods. One by one everyone took a bite of the dressing and had the strangest expressions on their faces. Only after everyone had taken a bite did Grandma announce that she had tried oyster dressing! Now, in southern Arkansas, oyster dressing isn't exactly a delicacy. And this most definitely was not.

What I remember most about her, though, is in very real and important ways, she influenced my life. She was an encourager, a mentor. Throughout college, she wrote letters and called. When I moved 6 hours away to a school and town in which I knew no one, her calls and letters were even more precious. She was there when I was lonely and at a time when I felt like life was falling apart. She simply listened, assured me that somehow things would work out, and loved me.

She loved well and each of us, in our way, tried to love her well.

So, tomorrow, I'll hum Happy Birthday and think of Grandma. And I'll be forever thankful for her.

The Storm Bag

We are expecting some severe storms this evening and tonight.

I was trying to help Gracen not be quite so afraid of the storms. We watched some footage on television so that she could learn what a tornado actually looked like. I was hoping that the more educated she was--and the more she knew what to do--the less fearful she would be.

She was concerned about her things. I told her that if she wanted to, she could put some of her favorite and most special things in a bag to take into the closet should we have to go in there.

The picture is what was in her bag (posted with her permission)!

--her complete horse collection (most compliments of one her favorite people :) )
--pictures of Nana & Papa and Jordyn
--some of her dog collection
--her new Bible
--one American Girl doll
--Puppy, of course
--her Panda pillow pet

It always tickles me--and warms my heart--to see what she holds especially dear.

Be safe, everyone.

The Fear Block

For several weeks, I seem to have had a really bad case of writer's block. Not that there wasn't anything to write about because there has been.

My block comes from fear. Not fear of writing, not fear of putting something out there for a few to read—rather fear of acknowledging the thing that has made my hands shake and caused me not to breath deeply for the past several weeks.

Just plain, simple fear. Fear of the unknown, fear of what's ahead, fear of how everything is going to be taken care of.

Most of the time I deal with fear by shoring up my strength and steeling myself for whatever may come. Foolishly, I think that I can be strong enough. I don't cry, I don't generally fret, and, even though my bent is to think through every single possible worst case scenario (and have a plan for each), I really don't dwell on the what-if's. Because, you see, I've already thought through all the possible outcomes so I know what I will do. The workings of my warped mind—scary, I know!

We have some things facing us over the next few weeks. Jeff has to have some tests run—absolutely nothing major. My parents are both having minor surgeries that will require some recuperation time. Nanny is still recuperating from her heart surgery and has some good and some bad days.

Jeff's testing has me rattled, honestly. Again, not because of anything major but because it is him. I don't realize sometime just how much of an anchor he is for me. The thought of something, however minor, being wrong with him scares me.

I guess I've just reached the point in all of this of just simply needing to know. The tests need to be over and answers given because the not knowing seems to be the hardest.

Anyone who has family far away knows the next source of anxiety all too well. The feeling of being torn. God placed us in this town, blessed us with a full life, commitments, responsibilities but my family is six hours away.

I struggle with the best way to honor and support my parents. How do I keep them involved in Gracen's life—and her in theirs? How do I practically help them? How do I show them that my heart's desire is to be the daughter they need and the wife and mother they raised me to be?

Sometimes, the fear of not knowing, the fear of not handling something well can prevent me from doing anything at all. Fear is like that, I guess. And, all of my wanting and trying to do it all well isn't enough. The more I want and the more I try, the more immobile I feel.

Honestly, I don't have any answers. I just know that this place isn't where I want to be.

But, for whatever reason, it is where I am.

I don't particularly like the place I'm in right now. I haven't gleaned any monumental truths (yet). I feel alone. But, I have learned not to rely on my feelings during these times. I may feel alone. I may feel rather dark. I may feel fearful.

That isn't truth.

Truth--real, solid, abiding truth--casts a light, albeit sometimes a small one, into the dark and the lonely.

That's what I'm trusting.

Sometimes You Get What You Ask For

Over the weekend, we did one of my favorite things. It is a very simple, little thing in the grand scheme of life but isn't that the way with many of the best things?

We watched a show on the National Geographic channel. There is nothing that my animal loving kid likes better than a good animal show—and this one had the added bonus of being a mystery.

The Beast Hunter (new to me) was on the trail of Cappy, a Loch Ness monster type of sea creature, that many locals claim to have seen. The Beast Hunter is a scientist so he wanted to see it before he believed it. He talked to the eye witnesses who all had very similar stories, he went through the possibilities of what this could be, he examined local folk lore. All in all, his investigation was quite thorough.

My girl, with her wealth of 12 year old knowledge and brief stint of investigating the Loch Ness monster, claims that she too isn't going to believe something that she can't see. “What about God?”, we asked her.

I began to pray that God would show Himself to her in a real way. I know that she knows that God is real in her head. I know that she understands that the very creation she so dearly loves is evidence of His presence and power. She knows catechism questions, Bible verses, and Bible stories. She even takes better notes during the sermons than I do. And all of this is exactly the foundation that we want for her, that we prayed for.

My prayer was that, in some way, God would show Himself to her in such an unmistakable way that she would have a physical memory to put on the foundation. She seemed to need this.

On our drive home from school yesterday afternoon, we had a near miss wreck. A tires squalling, horn blowing, swerving with reflexes quicker than I thought I still had kind of near miss. The car was turning into me—it was on me—I had an up close and personal kind of view. There was absolutely no logical reason that we weren't dealing with major damage.

I sincerely thanked God for the fact that it was, indeed, a near miss. I did some deep breathing for the next bit of the drive and Gracen and I both tried to stop shaking. But I couldn't shake the feeling that I was supposed to connect the dots. I wasn't sure what this feeling was but it was a definite impressing-upon in my mind.

Finally, it clicked. I had been praying for God to show Himself to Gracen in a real way. What had just happened was a very real way.

We talked about God being there. We talked about the fact that the car was literally on us—she saw that and had braced for impact. We talked about there being no logical explanation for the car not hitting us.

I explained that God protects us from things that we see and from things that we don't see. He is always active and present in our lives and sometimes we get the privilege of seeing it.

I pray she got it. I hope and pray that she has stones of remembrance set in her mind and visits them each time we pass that particular spot.

But, you know, it wasn't just for her. Sometimes it does the adults, the teachers, the parents good too.

(And, by the way, the Beast Hunter decided that even though he couldn't see Cappy or prove its existence in any way, he believed in Cappy. There was simply too much in the depths of the oceans that humans haven't been—and may never be—able to see.)

Just Funny

We spent some time at the farm yesterday afternoon. Beautiful day, riding, great friends, good food--an afternoon well spent and much enjoyed.

I was trying to get a picture of Gracen and Barley really wanted in the picture! I have a feeling this will be one Gracen will want to keep.

Seeing this girl doing something she truly loves makes me smile every time.

Something New

Several weeks ago, Jeff was installed as an elder in our church.

Our denomination (PCA) has both elders and deacons. Each office is called for a specific task. The deacons handle much of the physical oversight of the church property, the finances, benevolence, and much more. The elders are responsible for more of the spiritual oversight. They deal with teaching, counseling, church discipline, shepherding and, again, much more. Perhaps (and probably) it isn't the “best” system of church government because it was, after all, designed by man but it is one of the best, in my opinion.

When Jeff was approached about being an elder, we spent time discussing and praying. We both felt it was an honor but also, and more importantly, a huge responsibility and a privilege for which we both felt so totally unqualified.

You see, we know each other well. We know the ugliness in our own hearts, we know the ickiness that raises its head in our marriage. We know that we try and still fall so short. We don't know even know how sinful we really are.

And yet, in all of that and perhaps in large part because of all that, God led in this direction.

As I sat in the installation service listening to the sermon, I literally wanted to sink into the chair. I know that my husband, loved as he is by me, is a sinner. He knows that I am as well. Marriage has a way of really showing sinful natures (as does parenting but that's a different post!). Yet, he (especially) and me to a lesser degree were being charged with helping others. He was being charged with being a leader in the church. He was being placed in authority over a covenant group of people who were willingly putting themselves under submission of a group of men just as sinful and needy as they are.

I think historically we place our church leaders on pedestals that are not only undeserved but also highly unrealistic. We expect them to be models of virtue instead of the sinful humans saved by grace that they are. They will fail. They will fall short of expectations. So will their wives.

As I sat there, I began to realize that I had chosen to put myself under the authority of our elders. I chose that. I also realized that they had taken on an enormous office that would cost them a lot. The decisions they made would be ridiculed by someone. Their reputations, their families,and their decisions would be called into question.

These men share a huge responsibility not only to their own families but to their larger covenant family as well. That responsibility looms large and daunting. That responsibility will make them shed tears, it will humble them.

And it will be God that enables them to handle all that the office entails. Knowing that is one thing; trusting it is another.

But just as God gives them grace and wisdom to do what He has called them to do, He gives the congregation grace and wisdom to trust and follow that leadership.

And that grace, given, makes all the difference.

The Trip

I made a trip today. A trip to my parents' home. I wasn't sure what would happen when I got there (or before, for that matter).

As I drove the miles I've driven many times in the 21 years since I've lived away from home, I had much time to reflect.

I saw billowing, puffy clouds float across a clear blue sky. I saw (really) two men pushing a shopping buggy on which they had perched, precariously, a sofa. I had a chuckle and double checked my rear view to make sure I had seen what I thought I saw. I had.

Mostly I thought of numbers. Sixty-seven, as in years. In that time, there has been a World War, the Korean War, the Vietnam War, and the Cold War. There have been approximately 12 U.S. Presidents. America has put a man on the moon, the Beatles invaded, Elvis Presley died, and John F. Kennedy was assassinated. The Berlin Wall came down, the space shuttle Challenger exploded, and 9/11 changed the world.

Through it all, in a small town in Arkansas, one couple has been married. They saw all those things. They welcomed 2 sons, 4 grandchildren, and 3 great granddaughters. They celebrated birthdays, anniversaries, and retirements. They laughed, they fought, they loved, and they cried.

Today, my grandfather lies in a hospital bed in his home literally waiting for God to call him home. My grandmother, his wife of those 67 years, said goodbye to him and was taken to a hospital to undergo major heart surgery. They won't see each other again on this earth.

A heart wrenching goodbye on this earth will eventually be a beautiful reunion in Heaven.

I didn't know as I drove if I would see either of them again. I still haven't seen my grandmother as she is in another town but Granddaddy is still holding on.

As I held his hand, I told him about the lake I had driven by on the way. Lake Chicot is a place we spent many summers. I told Granddaddy once when I was 4 or 5 that I was going to catch “2 crappie and a casting rod”. He laughed about that for years.

“The sky was blue. The lake was shimmering. It was about 65 degrees, perfect weather for fishing,” I said. He squeezed my hand a bit and raised his eyebrows.

Maybe he heard me, maybe he didn't. I was just thankful to have gotten the chance to tell him.

I don't know what the future holds for them. But I know that no matter what is in it, it is God's best—His Plan A.

And I know too, even as good as their 67 years together on this earth were, their future years together will be even better.

Prayer Request

This picture was taken at Nanny's 80^th birthday celebration.

Granddaddy was diagnosed with terminal cancer a bit ago. He has been in more pain and a little more confused lately. It is the disease, well, acting like a disease. Knowing why doesn't make it easier. It does enable everyone to know better how to help him though.

Nanny found out yesterday that she has a major problem with her heart. Further testing is necessary to know exactly what is going on.

I would appreciate prayers for our family. Prayers for my grandparents' comfort and peace. Prayers for my parents and sister who deal with the everyday. Prayers for those of us living long distance as we process, figure how to best help, and try to encourage when we can't physically be there.

Reflections

Every year I marvel at how fast the time flies. When did this little girl sporting her favorite horse shirt and missing front tooth turn into...
this young lady? I'm sure I only blinked a couple of times.
When she was little, her favorite book was Mud Pie Annie. Fortunately she still enjoys making mud pies in the back yard. Seeing her with mud on her hands makes the fact that she will be 12 in less than a month a little easier to bear. A little.

Every Christmas, there seem to be a few photos that soar into the priceless category almost as soon as they are downloaded. This year, these two were among them.
My grandfather with 2 of his great granddaughters.
And, Nanny and Granddaddy.

Then there's that picture that you just know you should delete but somehow can't make yourself.

That picture that you know will result in a rather loud phone call.

That picture that will forever make you stay on the taking side of the camera.

That picture that will make you laugh when you need it most.

The picture that will hopefully make your sister realize that the true joy in life comes from knowing that she made another person smile!

PS--For the record, Jeff pushed the publish button!!! :)

Processing

I'm staring at the Christmas tree lights struggling to muster up some sort of joy.

The truth is this doesn't feel very joyous and probably won't this year.

Telling our child that her great grandfather has been given months to live was among the hardest things I've ever done. Watching her begin to process her feelings has been even harder. Modeling a grief that practices all the things I've preached to her is more difficult than I expected.

Do I really believe that God is sovereign even in this?

Do I really believe that Heaven is a better place?

Do I really believe that grief can be grace filled and, dare I say it, joy filled?

Yes, in every fiber that is in me. I believe yet I find myself praying that all too familiar prayer: “I believe—help me in my unbelief.”

At 41, I realize how unusual it is to still have 2 of my grandparents living. My maternal grandfather died when I was in 7^th grade. My maternal grandmother died 4 years ago. Nanny and Granddaddy have been fixture in my life.

In my mind, I suppose, Granddaddy has been put on a bit of a pedestal. I know he has faults and, truthfully, that is part of the reason I admire him so. His faults along with all the many good qualities make him uniquely Granddaddy.

He has always fascinated me. I was fascinated from a young age about the fact that he served in some of the heaviest fighting in World War II. I was in awe that he could have been so brave at such a very young age. Now, I know that the man I always thought so brave had a good, healthy dose of fear and would deal with guilt and the horrors of war for the rest of his life.

I remember realizing that he had been afraid and it endeared him to me even more. Despite his fear, he simply did what had to be done.

When I went through cancer, it was Nanny and Granddaddy who drove me to many of my therapy appointments and leg fittings. Granddaddy made it fun. I also heard him say a curse word for the first time when a deer ran in front of us and really messed up the front of my parents' car! Those trips are some of my fondest memories.

He and my Nanny have been married since 1944. Sixty six years. The majority of both their lives have been spent together. I simply can not imagine thinking of saying goodbye to the other half of yourself.

This Christmas will be probably be more subdued than others. I know tears will fall. It is just and good. Maybe there isn't a better time to be thankful for and to celebrate a life well lived, I don't know.

But for now as we process and pray for peace, wisdom, and comfort, I know that I am much more thankful for the baby in the manger and the cross on which He died.

Frustration

Sorry this picture is so small but this is what generally comes to mind when frustration is involved!

On Monday I went to the funeral of a close friend's father.

Funerals are hard enough on family when they were somewhat "prepared" for the death and when the minister's words are comforting.

It is doubly hard when neither of those things happened.

It was frustrating to watch because the service could have been much better.

I hurt for my friend.



I had high hopes for Tuesday.

I saw another dermatologist for the rashes that I have been dealing with on my stump. Rashes that come and go with no rhyme or reason--and hurt like crazy! It usually means several days out of my prosthesis.

That just really gets in the way of life!!

My visit with the doctor lasted all of 5 minutes. It took me longer to get out of my leg! I will try some of what he said but I'm beginning to wonder if I would be better off to diagnosis myself from the Internet.

So, the first part of the week has not been so grand.

But I'm still hopeful for the rest of it!