Long Hollow

Fifteen Years Ago This Morning...

 

 

"Life's about changing, nothing ever stays the same." ~

Patty Loveless, "How Can I Help You To Say Goodbye"

That Memorial Day weekend in 1998 was one of the best we'd ever had. We had laughed with friends and danced to Johnny Dee and the Rocket 88's. Spent a glorious day swimming in a private stretch of the pristine San Marcos River with our kids and friends. 

We were young and happy and blessed, living in Paradise in the Texas Hill Country, preparing to build our dream home. 

But fifteen years ago this morning, the phone woke me.  A nurse on the other end let me know Tom was lucky to be alive. He was in Brackenridge Hospital, preparing for surgery. She urged me to get there as fast as possible.

It had only taken a split second for us to be pushed along paths we didn't want to travel. Our lives changed. We ourselves changed.

But then, that's what journeys do to you, and what is Life but one long journey? How dull a trip would be if the scenery always stayed the same. Unfortunately, on every trip, there's good scenery and there's bad scenery.

The potential for change is constant. Some of it we have control over. Big decisions like dropping out of college. Getting married. Having children. Moving to a new town.

But even little ones can trigger huge changes. Having one more drink. Angry words you can't take back. An opportunity you let slip by without grabbing it. Saying "yes" when you should say "no", or the other way around.

Perhaps it's unfair that we can't control what other people do, even though their decisions can send us reeling. We didn't know the kid who hit Tom head-on that morning, but even if we did, we couldn't have stopped him from making one bad decision after another.

All we can really do is pray for guidance in our own decisions and be sure they are rooted in love, with a desire that God's will be done.

We can't waste our time worrying about the changes ahead of us. All we can do when the road turns unexpectedly is what we did back then...count our blessings and carry on, noticing the beauty on the new path before us. Because it's there.

When you find it, don't take it for granted, thinking it will be there forever. Relish it, cherish it, soak it up, because, after all, life's about changes. It can be no other way.

Happy 15th anniversary of your second chance, Tom!

Through the ups and down that have been, and the inevitable ones to come,
remember my love is constant.

Five Things from La-La Land

Linking with A Rural Journal's Random 5 Friday 

 

1. 

 

This card, full of words of love and encouragement and inspiration, waited for me in the mailbox earlier this week, a precious gift from my friend Rae. 

How could I not share them with you, because the words are true for all of us, aren't they? Take a minute to read them and believe them. You are very special.

Thank you again, sweet Rae!

 

2.

In a previous life, Jeannie was my kids' high school Spanish teacher. A few years ago she retired to follow her dream of becoming a missionary in Honduras through SAMSUSA.org.

I subscribe to her newsletters and in today's I found this note that made me really stop and think. I thought it was worth sharing with you, too...

 

Dear Mission Partners,

I’ve been thinking a lot about what we pray for. I hear so many people resolve their problems and say, Oh, if God would just.....let me pass the exam, give me the dream job I want.... everything would be good and I could handle it from there. We want Him to hand our desires to us and back off. We want the control back. We think we know what’s best for us. When he doesn’t answer our prayer we feel abandoned. God doesn’t care.

We often never consider that He has other plans for us, probably much better plans that we have concocted to solve our problems and make us happy. Usually he makes us wait for His plans and the waiting is very hard when we see our solution just within our grasp. The solution is so obvious! Why won’t He just give it to us?

His plans are so much more comprehensive than our solutions. We don’t see His huge map. Like Sara with Abraham, we tire of waiting and substitute our plans for His. But the true solution is His. What we have done in the meantime may only complicate things.

I’m pretty clear on what I want. I work toward it and pray I am in line with what He wants. But I am praying that His Will, not mine, be done. I am praying to be obedient. Because I know He’s in control. And I have found his plans to be much better than mine. For His Sake,

Jeannie 

Jeannie does amazing work there with the poverty-stricken, transporting children to doctor's visits, among tons of other things. If you're interested in donating to support her mission, send me an email and I'll send you hers.

 

3.

"If you're lost and alone...or you're sinking like a stone...carry on.
May your past be the sound of your feet upon the ground. Carry on."

~ Fun

Speaking of inspiring and energizing things, Fun. was on the Today Show this morning. This song has been in my head all day. (I'm not complaining!)

 

 

4.

It rained all day today, and I didn't mind a bit because I had no where to go. That's one of the good things about not having a real job beyond writing and a fledgling photography company. (The bad thing about it is the lack of a paycheck, of course.)

Anyway, rain makes me pensive, so I flipped through a few of the journals where I noted details of our lives for about twenty-five years. 

There were some tough times, I'll tell you, but one thing I noticed was how I always ended with a positive note...using words like 'faith' and 'prayer' and 'blessings'. I remember some of those times vividly, the ache and the worry and the fogginess of the road ahead of us.

I love seeing it from this perspective, how the paths opened up and the sun came out again. I was reminded again that God has a plan, that he's got our backs, which is a helpful reminder right now when the road ahead has gone all foggy again.

Tom says I live in La-La Land, where there's always a silver lining and everything is hunky-dory. He says it like it's a bad thing.

But if we've prayed for God's guidance and truly trust him, how can we not think everything is hunky-dory, even if we can't see it from where we're standing at the moment?

 

 

5.

The proof of that hit home when I read through my notes written during my oldest son's heartwrenching high school years...and compare them to the joy and love I see on his face in the short video below of The. Most. Beautiful. Wedding. Ever. Amen. by amazing videographer Adam Grumbo. (I can't wait for the full video!) 

My prayers of so long ago have been answered. My mother-tears were not in vain.

(It takes a minute to buffer, so take my advice -  go grab a tissue while it loads...)

 

Five Things on a Friday Night. And a Puppy.

 

1.

You know you're getting old when, instead of taking friends up on an invitation to listen to live music on a Friday night after work, you walk your friend's dogs, eat dinner alone at Panda Express, pick up a few things at Walmart, and make brownies for your friend's son's college graduation party on Saturday.

And then write a blog post about it.

 

2. 

 

Nothing smells better than brownies baking in the oven. Amen.

 

3.

 

The fortune in my cookie at Panda Express read: "A pleasant surprise is in store for you." Sure enough, within the hour, I was standing in the check-out line at Walmart when a familiar voice said, "Barbara?"

It was the former high school librarian who I loved working with as a substitute assistant and who loved having my son as her aide. I haven't seen her in ages.

It truly was a very, very, very pleasant surprise. (But how did Panda Express know? It's almost creepy!)

 

4.

 

One of the feral cats that adopted my parents has disappeared. They believe it died.

When I was there for Mother's Day, it had tucked itself into a tight spot between the house and the deck. It was too wild for them to catch. Daddy just made sure it had food and water nearby, but it had no appetite.

They had enjoyed watching that cat sleep on the deck (and try to catch birds at the feeder and bath - sometimes successfully) for over a year.

She was a pretty little thing, and they forgave her for trying to kill (and succeeding in killing) the birds, and scaring the squirrels away.

It makes me so sad for them. 

 

5.

 

I attended a Writer's League of Texas panel on magazine writing last night. Four writers shared their experiences: Sarah Bird, Chuck Eddy, Alicia Dennis, and Michael Hall.

In a nutshell I learned that magazine writing used to be a great gig, but that it's getting harder and harder to make a living at it because so many magazines have folded, so much is online now, and there are tons of writers doing it for next-to-nothing...or nothing, period. 

The writers were all really interesting and funny, and still all actively writing for publications, including People and Texas Monthly, but overall it was kind of sad and bittersweet.

So don't you think it's ironic that I want to do it even more after listening to them talk about it?

P.S.

 

Before the magazine panel, Daniel and I ate at Opal Divine's. This little Mini-Max and his mom sat near us, and, oh! he stole my heart!

I'm going to post more street photos on Confessions, but had to share Augie with you here, too.

I think I want a puppy.

Happy Birthday, anyway, Tom!

When the rain started around 3 am, pounding on the house like we were under a giant faucet, Tom remembered he left his car windows down. A mad dash in the rain up the hill in the middle of the night isn't the greatest way to start your birthday. 

I think the worst of it came through our area just as he left for work. I prayed for his angels to stick close to him while he maneuvered the wet highways in his little Suzuki Samurai, trying not to think of another wet May morning in 1998 that changed our lives.

He'll be working late tonight (still catching up from those days off for the wedding) and so we have no special plans. Last night he met the boys for beer and pizza after work, though. His kind of celebration, for sure.

Before writing this, I glanced over some other posts I wrote in honor of his birthday. I had to shake my head when reading this in Grateful for #53:

So I wasn't surprised when I asked him what he wanted for his birthday and he said: "Don't get me anything. Just pay off the credit cards." 

I'm trying. I've made progress. Substantial progress. But it's a constant tug between needs, wants and finances, a battle we're intimately familiar with - we've been a mostly one-income family since soon after we married, when he quit work to go to college. We just switched places after our youngest was born. 

Now that we're Empty Nesters, I've doubled my "paid" hours. The catch is, without a college degree, my pay ... and my choices ... are limited. I try to make up for both - the pay and the fulfillment - with my writing. Blogging brings in a little bit of money; my play and my book, not so much ... yet. I joke that they're our retirement plan - once they're finished, I'll make a million dollars and we can both retire. But the only way that can happen is if I write, and the trick there is finding time to write. Between the 'paid' job and life, there's not much time left without dipping into my sleep, and when I skimp on sleep ... well, I'm back where I started, full circle: Tom worries. About me.

But I haven't given up. If being broke and juggling finances for years has taught me anything, it's to be creative and frugal. Being frugal just gets so tiring. But Tom's worth it. 

I feel bad that I won't be able to give him what he asked for this year, but I'll do my best for #54. I have a feeling he'll be asking for the same thing, anyway."

I shook my head because he still hasn't gotten this wish. But I haven't given up doing my part to see it come true by finding a job that will do more than slow the sinking. I know it's out there!

(Are you hiring? Contact me! I can do anything - seriously!)

Anyway, I'm wishing my dear husband sunshine on his birthday, even if it's only in his heart and not in the sky. A lightness and sense of hope that comes from faith. And I'm giving him all of my love, as always, and thanking God for letting me share my life with him for so long. 

Happy 56th birthday, Tom!

 

Mother's Day and A Sweet Confession

Here it is, my confession: I've fallen out of the habit of looking for those sweet! moments in every day. It hasn't been too much of a problem until now, what with The Wedding and Mother's Day and all, because they overflowed in sweetness.

But today. Ah, today. A Monday by any other name would still be a Monday, if you know what I mean. So even though the calendar said it was Tuesday, once I stepped into the winery this morning, I knew it was really a Monday, with all of its Murphy's Law madness. 

Nothing big. Just one little thing after another that kept me a little grumpy all day, and now here I sit with brain freeze, needing to pay bills and finish laundry, wanting to work on my book, but overwhelmed with...everything.

I just want to climb in bed and forget about today.

That's what happens when I stop really paying attention to the sweet!s. 

So for my peace of mind I need to walk backward through the day with open eyes and find those sweet!s I was too blind to notice earlier.

...First of all, after writing that first part I took a break out on the porch swing, letting the evening breeze ruffle my hair, imagining it filtering into my brain and cleaning out the cobwebs.

A cedar tree creaked in the wind, the leaves rustled, my wind chimes played in harmony with the evening songbirds. Belle and Max lay nearby, eyes open, just listening with me. 

No matter what else happened today, that was all pretty sweet!

But my day began with a sunrise walk with my life-loving puppies. Besides all of the yellow flowers, prairie verbena, and Indian Blankets that are blooming right now, the cactus are dotted with delicate yellow flowers that should have reminded me that sweet! moments can transform the thorniest of days.

 

And then there was Mother's Day.

Over the weekend, I saw all three of my kids, plus my mom. Not all at the same time, but I'm grateful for what I can get!

Friday night my oldest came to see us, bearing gifts from their honeymoon adventures in Italy. He brought me a bottle of wine from one of the vineyards they visited in Tuscany and this gorgeous bracelet from Venice made of Murano glass beads.

 

I always regretted not buying some of that beautiful glass on my own trip in 1976. 

 

Thank you, Tommy and Kirby! (How did they know?)

I stayed up later than I intended, listening to Tommy's stories from Italy, making him look at my old Italy photos from '76, laughing over funny videos, and watching (dozing through) an episode of Game of Thrones, but it was worth losing a few hours of sleep.

Saturday morning I dropped groceries off for TG who was in the middle of finals (and got a quick hug) then picked up my middle one for a road trip to Houston to spend Mother's Day with my mom.

We celebrated with lots of family over lunch on Sunday at an Italian restaurant. 

(I forgot to get one of Mama with the grandkids until she was already in the car. But I love it!)

Daniel gave me an updated version of my absolute favorite cookbook - Cooking Texas Style. I ordered mine out of Country Living magazine back in 1983. Its pages are smudged and worn from use.

This latest version is not only cleaner, but it has all of my old favorites, plus a bunch of new recipes I can't wait to try!

 

Thank you, Daniel!

And now, the Squirrel.

Every time I drive to Houston I pass this huge squirrel at the Berdoll Pecan & Gift Company outside of Bastrop...and I always wish I had stopped and gotten a photo of it. 

Okay, with it.

So this time I did.

 

And bless his heart, Daniel agreed to be in the photo with me since there was a couple who could take the photo for us.

I am one lucky mom!

Here are a few other sweet!s from the past few weeks that I actually did jot down, but I don't think I officially posted...

Seeing an owl swoop past at dusk; the Hoary Bat; fireflies; finally watching the Hunger Games movie with your son; getting a score of 26 in a game of 3-13 with your mother-in-law; a mani-pedi; your own cowgirl boots courtesy of your sweet friends; hummingbirds; a friend's help on the centerpieces for your son's rehearsal dinner; dancing at your son's wedding; YOUR SON'S WEDDING!; photo-booth pictures; keeping up with the honeymoon via Instagram and Facebook; chocolate-covered strawberries; spending a week with your grandpuppy; a free prime rib dinner with friends; wildflowers lining the road

I hope you pay attention to the sweet!s in your week! I'm going to make sure I do!

 

 

Rambling about Dogs, Children, and Butterflies

 

The sun still yawned under a light gray blanket this morning when the puppies and I headed out for our walk.

Josie, my grandpuppy, took the lead as usual; she's still excited about her visit to the country. Belle, my sweet companion, fell into step near me. She never strays too far from my side for long. Max lagged behind, probably worn out from trying to keep up with the youngsters all week.

Tomorrow evening my son, the newlywed, will be coming to take Josie home. I'll miss that little girl. We've had some great conversations and cuddle-time, but I look forward to seeing Tommy and hearing about their adventures in Italy.

This will be my Mother's Day visit from him, since I'll be in Houston visiting my mother on Sunday. I'll probably see the other two on Saturday. One might even travel with me to Houston, but it's still kind of iffy.

When the kids all lived at home, Mother's Day morning found me lying in bed, pretending to be asleep, listening to pans banging and Tom coaching them through fixing me a big bacon, eggs, and toast breakfast.

But once they started leaving the nest, it was rare to see them - especially all three at once - much less have a kid-cooked breakfast, because college finals usually fell around Mother's Day. 

But I'm grateful I can spend that special day with my mom, trying to make up for way too many Mother's Days that I spent with my friends on a Galveston beach instead of with her. (Kids! Sigh.)

I also go see her because it would be wrong not to, when so many of you would give anything to be able to tell your moms Happy Mother's Day in person, just one more time.

Anyway, back to this morning's walk...

I spotted a butterfly clinging to a low juniper branch. It fluttered a bit but stayed put as I snapped one photo after another, drawing ever closer.

The fact that it didn't fly away worried and concerned me. For some reason, I got the impression it was stuck to the branch, trying to get loose. Wanting to help, I put my finger out to help free it. It climbed onto my finger, but then fluttered to the ground, wings out, lying still.

Oh great, I thought. Now what I have I done?

I shooed the dogs away from it and started to continue on my walk, but worry and guilt got the best of me. I returned to the butterfly, found a small twig, and put it near its little feet. It clung to the twig, so I lifted it back up to where I first found it. It returned to the juniper branch, so I dropped the twig, and, again, started walking away.

But...what if it really wanted to be on the ground? Maybe I helped it the first time and just messed things up the second time. What if...what if...what if...?

I said a prayer for the little thing, and kept walking, trusting God to fix whatever I might have screwed up.

 

Then I thought about my kids (because that's the way my brain works and it is almost Mother's Day, after all) and about all the times I tried to help them. So often I just seemed to mess things up instead of making them better.

What if...what if...what if...?

And that's when I told myself to just shut the heck up, because what's done is done. I can honestly say my kids are awesome people, and whether it was despite me or because of me, it doesn't matter.

I know I did the best I could along the way for those beautiful creatures God put in my life's path,  just as I did the butterfly, always with lots of prayer. So I'll just keep trusting God to fix whatever I might have screwed up with my kids, too.

What more can we do, as mothers and fathers, and hikers in the woods?

So.... at the grocery store a little later, I indulged and bought some chocolate-covered strawberries.

Happy Mother's Day to me!

And Happy Mother's Day to all of you mothers out there! 

May you indulge yourself with forgiveness for any past (or future) parenting mistakes. You know in your hearts, as I do in mine, that you did the best you could, and most likely, you did a whole lot more right than wrong. Amen.

Being a mother is learning about strengths you didn't know you had, and dealing with fears you didn't know existed.  ~Linda Wooten

 

God, Grant Me The Serenity...

Through the window, I see my brother-in-law's SUV pull up in front of the house. Several younger men gather to help maneuver my mother down from her seat and into the waiting wheelchair.

For a moment exhaustion pinches her face from the three-hour road trip and constant struggle to breathe, but then I see that familiar smile bloom wide, right to the edge of joyful laughter, so contagious that everyone around her smiles, too.

She said she wouldn't miss her grandson's wedding, and by golly, she made it.

I sigh in relief. Maybe she didn't have doubts about her attendance, but I sure did. Eight months ago, for reasons that still haven't been clearly diagnosed, her muscle strength and balance disappeared. Walking was already a challenge because of her asthma, but now she couldn't even stand without support.

At first she fought it, believing she just needed to push herself to build up her strength. She accepted the wheelchair as a temporary accessory, but if you turned your back for a second, she would jump up and try to walk. Upon waking in the morning, she would automatically head down the long hallway, alone and unassisted, to the bathroom.

Consequently, she fell. A lot. I witnessed a few of the falls myself, including one in the middle of the night when she took my dad down on top of her in the bathroom (he tried to stop her fall) and we subsequently spent the night in the emergency room.

I'm not sure how many other falls there were. She and Daddy tried to keep them secret.

"Mama, stop trying to walk without help. You don't want to miss the wedding, do you?" 

She didn't. But it still took a few reminders before she started behaving and playing it safe, using the wheelchair to go down the hall and letting Daddy hover nearby when she needed to stand.

It's been a tough transition for all of us. Mama has always been the caregiver, so strong she makes the Steel Magnolias look like a bunch of wilting lilies. She's the Serenity Prayer and "where there's a will, there's a way" all rolled up in one, put into action. When something needed to be done, she just did it, without any whining or woe-is-me-ing. 

She spent sleepless nights nursing us through the usual and not-so-usual childhood illnesses and injuries...encephalitis, whooping cough, dislocated hips. Later, in her forties, Mama maneuvered my quadriplegic brother's six-foot-frame in and out of his wheelchair, despite her petite size. And just a few years ago, in her late 70's, she took care of my older sister following her hip surgery. 

 

Mama was with me to welcome my firstborn into the world, watched him while I worked and his dad went to school, and attended every special event of his life. There was no way in hell she'd miss his wedding, even if it meant relying on others for a change and accepting life in a wheelchair...at least for a little while. 

God, grant me the serenity...

 

In honor of Mother's Day, Generation Fabulous asked us to talk about that other fabulous generation - our mothers. Whether we like it or not, and whether we knew them or not, our mothers helped shape us into the women we are today. I realize I'm blessed with an amazing mother and the chance to know her through the eyes of an adult, and I'm happy I got to share a little bit about her with you. To read more mom stories, go HERE.

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I Won't Think About Good-Bye

 

 

I lingered on the back porch this morning with my coffee after the dogs finished their breakfast, listening to birds chirp their confusion over the unseasonal cool temperatures and the wind play rough with the trees. 

The sun was shining, and I could see the surface of our little pond sparkling through the new spring leaves of surrounding trees. I sat in the middle of a dream-come-true started thirty years ago, and wondered how I was going to say goodbye.

We're going to have to sell out and go somewhere else. Barring some miracle, along the lines of me writing a million-dollar bestseller or one of us winning the lottery, it's the only way we're going to climb out of the debt-sinkhole we've slipped into.

Tom figures it will take him two years to get the place in shape to sell. We started on it almost twenty years ago, moved in almost ten years ago, but it's not finished yet. Once we moved in, we weren't in a rush...until now. But Tom wants to see it the way he envisioned it in the beginning, so he's not rushing through doing a halfass job.

In my heart I know God led us here, so if it's his will we stay, we will, even if we don't see how right now. Maybe we've done what we were supposed to do here and he has some other job for us elsewhere. If so, I'll just give thanks for the time we've had in this little piece of heaven. We've been blessed and nothing can take that away.

Meanwhile, I'm going to linger and cherish and soak as much of Long Hollow as possible into my soul. I don't think I've ever taken it for granted, but I especially won't now. I'll push thoughts of goodbye off to the edge, only close enough to remind me to appreciate this day, and the next, and the next, and then I'll cherish the memories.

...While I pray for a miracle.

Back to Reality

The fairy tale is over, at least for me and Tom. While my son and his beautiful bride continue their romantic story over in Italy, we've said goodbye to the rehearsal dinner leftovers and the last out-of-town guest.

My mother-in-law left this morning. No more eating out or playing cutthroat games of 3-13, where I actually got on a winning streak for the first time in 30 years.

We're puppysitting our grandpuppy (which I love!) but otherwise we're back to our old routines. I went back to work yesterday and, while Tom is taking a few days off, he's back to piecing rock together for our driveway. I hear his hammer tapping as I type this.

But thank goodness (and bless my husband who built it) reality includes a break in the evening beside a little terrace bordering a small pond shaded by new green leaves, with splashes of crimson flowers and baby dewberries along the rim, where I can sit with a glass of wine, a pen and some paper, until the mosquitoes tell me it's time to go inside.

I thank you God for this most amazing day, for the leaping greenly spirits of trees, and for the blue dream of sky and for everything which is natural, which is infinite, which is yes. 

~e.e. cummings 

 

The. Most. Beautiful. Wedding. Ever. Amen.

 

(By Bloom Photography)

 

And I'm not saying that just because it was my son getting married.

Well, maybe I am a little partial, but it was also the setting, the weather, the bride, the groom (my son), the attendants (including two of my kids), the chaplain, the guests...

Trust me. It was absolutely perfect.

(by Drew Sartain)

A few raindrops kissed my face, but the rest waited until we were all in the reception hall, eating and laughing and dancing...after the sun broke through the clouds for a beautiful sunset right at the end of the ceremony.

I wish I had tons of photos for you, but I was forbidden from bringing my camera. The bride and groom wanted me to relax and be in the moment, instead of behind the lens, which is so sweet of them.

(I still brought it, of course, with the loophole idea of having someone else take photos with it at the reception, but in my rush to get out the door on time, I left my memory card in my computer at home because Tom had seen a bat swooping over the pond and I had gone out to take photos and wanted to get a close look at it so I loaded them on my computer and...oops.)

Anyway, you can imagine how my heart sank when I realized I couldn't take a single photo myself, but I'm glad the camera card is all I forgot to bring with me. And there were plenty of others snapping away. 

My mother and father were there, thanks to my sister and her husband, as well as Tom's mother and half of his brothers. We also celebrated with dear friends, kids I watched grow into amazing adults, and tons of people we are now officially related to by marriage.

I didn't cry. But my heart soared, filled with something that is so hard to describe, similar to our sparklers forming a tunnel for them at the end, all bright and shiny and warm. 

 

(by George Karr)

I'm so grateful for Facebook, because I know the newest Mr. and Mrs. Tom Shallue arrived safe and sound in Venice. I look forward to traveling vicariously through them around Italy the next few days, while I simultaneously ease back into my normal routine.

Life is good because love is real.

Amen.

 

(by Darla Thomas)

 

Be Still

 

It was a gray morning, the sun not yet able to break through the clouds above the Hollow or the dark thoughts clouding my brain. Worries and what-ifs mingled with sorrow for the people of Boston and scenes of the explosion in West were fresh in my mind.

My feet tread a familiar path through the woods, but I hardly paid attention. My camera dangled, forgotten, around my neck because I was too distracted by darkness to look for light.

Then, as I stepped into an area surrounded by tall trees, I heard it, the wind moving through their branches, singing a lullaby. A song straight from God to my heart.

"Be still."

That night, after a day of to-do's and running later than I'd hoped, I'd already forgotten that feeling of peace when I arrived at my meeting. Soft music and candlelight greeted me, thanks to the committee member in charge of our opening reflection.

"Be still and know that I am God," she read to us (Psalm 46:10) and once again I heard the trees' lullaby and God's voice: "Be still. Don't worry. I've got it."

For the next fifteen minutes or so, she guided us through a centering prayer, where we focused on interior silence, using a single sacred word to pull me back when those distracting thoughts try to pop back in and get me all rattled.

"Be still." The words have continued to echo in my heart, so simple, so full of love and comfort and security.

 

It's on the darkest night that you see the most stars, isn't it? When the moon and sun are both resting, the darkness provides a black backdrop to stars you would never even notice with a full moon on the stage, or when the sun rules the sky.

I think that's the way it is with sweet!s. When times get tough, that's when the sweet moments of our lives shine against the darkness. Once again we pay attention and give thanks for the simple things we all too often take for granted.

This past week, the shadows cast by terrorism and tragedy made me look closer for those bright spots I knew were there. 

 

Monday: a day off to play catch-up; a morning walk with happy dogs; turtles; cardinals at the birdfeeder; prairie verbena spreading everywhere; witnessing (via television) ordinary people becoming heroes

Tuesday: time for a long morning walk; a just-right day at work...not too busy, not too slow; spotting a Painted Bunting on your bird feeder

Wednesday: the sound of trees singing to each other; puppy kisses when you're feeling blue; praying with others for a small community hit with tragedy

Thursday: spending time with your baby girl, even if it's at the DMV and doctor's office; Five Guys cheeseburgers; arriving right on time everywhere on a tightly-packed day

Friday: trainees who catch on fast on a busy day at work; UPS and FedEX deliveries; your photos turned into beautiful greeting cards and prints; spotting a hawk out your kitchen window

Saturday: time for a long walk with your puppies and son before work; weddings, even on the sidelines; a belated birthday phone message from a friend; philosophical discussions with your son late at night

Sunday: sleeping in, late Mass with your son, and breakfast with friends; a walk with your son and puppies; the sun's kiss on your legs and arms; making a clean dent on a dirty house; your son making a delivery for you, saving you a trip into town

Monday: a forecast for absolutely perfect weather on your son's wedding day

 

A crazy, busy week awaits me, with one of the happiest days of my life ahead - the wedding of my oldest son. Talk about a bright light! But I'm determined to keep my eyes open and appreciate the simple blessings each day provides. I hope you do, too. Please share yours with me!

Five Things

1.

What a week full of tragedy, heartbreak, and heroism. First the bombing in Boston and subsequent acts of unselfishness and goodness that proved only light can conquer darkness...and that there's plenty of light in Boston. We witnessed it in the behavior of all of its citizens.

Next, the explosion in West, Texas, so close to home, where even more were killed and injured than in Boston. I've driven through that little town on my way somewhere else so many times, stopping for kolaches or to let the kids get rid of energy. In a tiny rural community like that a tragedy like this touches every resident and my heart goes out to them.

Now the earthquake in China. The numbers keep growing of those whose heartbreak is broadcast to all of us via the media...which means we can all pray for them. A universal prayer chain. An image glowing with light in yet another moment of darkness.

 

2.

I love sending cards to friends, but often don't have them on hand or the time to run out and buy one. So I decided to create my own...from my photographs and favorite quotes. I posted them on FineArtAmerica.com and placed my order. It arrived this week in a great box. 

I'm sending this one to all of those affected in #1, as well as anyone else reading this who is suffering loss right now.

 

 

"Oh heart, if one should say to you that the soul perishes like the body, answer that the flower withers, but the seed remains."

~ Kahlil Gibran

 

3.

Without excusing their behavior, I feel those two young men who planted the Boston bombs were merely pawns played by some greater evil who is sitting back, laughing at how they held us hostage for awhile and probably planning their next move. I pray I've raised my kids to be strong enough not to fall for false flattery, that they may never be manipulated in that way. 

4.

Just home from work yesterday evening, wondering where to get started on things I needed to do, one glance out the kitchen window put everything else on hold. A hawk perched in a tree overlooking our big pond ("big" only in comparison to our "little" pond; it's just a wide spot in a mostly dry creek right now, but it does have water!) I popped the 70-300mm lens on my camera and snapped a few through the window. Then I snuck out the front door, tiptoed around the corner, and managed to snap a few more before he swooped down to the pond. 

"Do you mind?"

They aren't great photos - he was pretty far away - but they're good enough to help me remember and be grateful that I stepped out of "to-do's" and just enjoyed the moment and this beautiful, amazing world around us.

 

5.

We're winding down to the Big Wedding of my son and his beautiful bride-to-be. For a long time the wedding was a year away, and now suddenly it's almost here! How does that happen?

So please don't forget me if I continue to be AWOL from your blogs for awhile, and negligent of emails and Facebook posts. But as my mom pointed out, Tommy's wedding is one of those once-in-a-lifetime things. A time to forget about the world and to-do lists and worries about the future, and focus, instead, on love and family and today.

"Once in awhile, right in the middle of an ordinary life, love gives us a fairy tale." 

 
--Anonymous 

Birthday Cards and other sweet!s

Does anyone read blog posts in the middle of the night? It seems it's the only time I finally get to post, after finishing up the higher priority items on my to-do lists. 

BlogHer is asking for nominations for their Voices of the Year, in the categories of Heart, Humor, Inspiration, and OpEd. I had thought about nominating myself (that's what you do when you get older - you quit waiting on other people to toot your horn - you just do it yourself!) but to be honest, I can't think of a post that might have a chance of winning, so I'll probably just wait until next year.

I'm not putting myself down...it's just that I don't post about controversial stuff. And I don't cuss. Or have small children. I'm not an alcoholic or drug addict who had an abortion at 18.

I'm not complaining - I know I'm blessed. But those seem to be the criteria in the posts with the highest ratings, along with alcoholism, drug abuse, and abortions.

 I have too many other things on my plate to worry about. Namely, a wedding (my son's) and finding a job which is more than a job, but a career. And writing a book. And...

Okay, I'll stop and get on with this post, which is about birthday cards and other sweet!s of the past week.

 

Next year for my birthday, I'm going to go to Barton Springs Pool and wear a bucket on my head.

 

 

This is the card my son gave me. Inside it says: "It's your birthday, so take it easy. Relax. Wear a bucket on your head. Whatever."

 And he wrote: "Do you want to go to Barton Springs and wear a bucket on your head?

If I had said yes, he would have cringed, but I know he would have gone along with me, and my other two kids as well. As I've already said once in this post, I'm blessed. (Of course, they would have pretended they didn't know me, but that's understandable.)

My friend Tamara (Tamara, Tamara, Tamara!) sent me a card that proves she knows me very well...

 

 

And here are some other sweet!s of the week...

Monday: antelope horn blooming; spotting a rabbit's tail on a morning walk; a hug from an old co-worker/friend; reminiscing with a friend about your kids and old times

Tuesday: Russian accents; meeting a Headhunter who promised to critique your resume; a blog friend requesting to buy a series of your photos

Wednesday: a walk in the rain with your pups during a drought; homemade chicken soup and a fire in a fireplace on a cold, rainy day in a vineyard

 

Thursday: wildflowers bordering a Texas highway (they were beautiful, but I had to wait to take the photo when I was stopped at a red light, where they were more sparse); standing by your friend when she says goodbye to her mother; sharing memories of your childhood with people you still call friends; an evening with your parents

 

Friday: coffee and reading the newspaper at the kitchen table with your dad; sneaking a photo of your dad with your phone; new growth in an old neighborhood; red-winged blackbirds; splashes of primroses on a roadside that remind you of your wedding 30 years agoan afternoon with your daughter and seeing both of your sons

 

Saturday: time for a walk with your puppies before work; two elderly people finding love again; patches of bluebonnets; going to bed earlier than you expected 

Sunday: waking early enough to go to early Mass; the joy on your puppies' faces when you take them for a walk; baby turtles; your writing group liking your latest story; getting a lot of stuff done on your day off

I hope you have a fantastic week, full of sweet! moments! I'll leave you with one of my favorite photos...the red-winged blackbirds ignoring the kitties in my parents' backyard to meet at the birdbath...

 

 

Five Things on Friday

1. Last night I attended a funeral for the mother of one of my long-time, closest friends. Hers was one of the houses where we all congregrated, from middle school on up (I had my first kiss on the sidewalk in front of that house)... and now my friend opens up her home to all of us for get-togethers as well.

My - oh, I'll go ahead and use the word - 'old' classmates and I filled several rows, and even my mother tagged along with me. One of the guys got up and spoke about his memories - our memories - but I have to admit, when he said the words "forty years ago" and "back in the day", I cringed at the truth of it. We are old! Argh.

But we're also forever young, thanks to those memories. Rest in peace and thank you for putting up with us, Mrs. Stanley, and thanks for speaking for all of us, Randy.

2. I saw a news report about cicadas that said they only appear every 17 years. Well, if that's true, I want to know what the heck we have around here every single summer that does a perfect impersonation of a cicada!

3. Just when I decided I needed to give something up for lack of time, whether my blog or my book or photography, I had a request to purchase some photos, an idea for a{nother} children's book that wouldn't leave me alone, I passed to the next level on a paid online writing gig, and I got a lot of attention on my blog.

Murphy's Law, but in a good way for a change.

But I'm still trying to figure out how to do it all...

4. My girlfriends pitched in and gave me a gift card for my birthday for me to buy a pair of cowgirl boots to wear to the rehearsal dinner for my son's wedding.

(It's a Texas thing. I had a great pair of boots...but then had three kids. Now TG has a great pair of boots, and I have my mother's which are about a half size too small.)

Anyway, I'm in a quandary. I'm tempted to squeeze my foot into my mother's boots that night, and use the gift card to {mostly} pay for an iPad or Kindle or something like that. Several of my friends have written e-books, and I have them on my computer, but I have limited time at home in front of my computer. I can't even keep up with my book writing or photo editing, so their books are still unread, along with tons of blog posts and articles, because I can't read them on my iPhone.

I'm thinking if I got an iPad, I could tuck it in my purse and stay caught up with my friends' writings. Sure, I'd look cute in a pair of Heritage Westerns, with jeans tucked in or a cute summery dress, and two-stepping in wedges is kind of a challenge, but...

See the fix I'm in? 

If any of you has an iPad or a Kindle or other similar device, please share your input and help me with this decision before it drives me crazy!

5. I'm happy to report that I've had a couple of mouse-turd-free days since retrieving the last one from the back seat and tossing it into the woods. Fingers crossed they've decided my car isn't the luxury hotel they were hoping for!

P.S. The onion flowers are back!

(Yes, that's technically 6 things. But I had to share these - such simple elegance in our little bit of woods.)

Linking with

 {Random 5 Friday}

and

Friday Fragments

Birthdays, Austin Adventures, and other Sweet!s

Once you reach a certain age, numbers become surreal. They change (faster and faster and faster) but you feel the same.

Wasn't it only yesterday I was cage dancing in honor of my 50th birthday? 

Way back in my thirties and forties, I set some goals for myself. By my 50th birthday, I planned to have graduated with at least a bachelor's degree and have a book published. There was also some vague notion that I would be able to play something that resembled music on my drums.

As that birthday approached, I cut myself some slack and extended the deadline to my 55th birthday. Surely that would be enough time to accomplish at least one of those goals.

Well, here I am at 54, and I know if the good Lord lets me reach my 55th birthday, odds are it's going to be without a degree or a published book, and my drumming will most likely continue to be a lot of loud noise that makes me happy...and everyone else want to plug their ears.

At first I thought about extending the deadline for those goals to 60. Instead, I'm tossing deadlines aside. Period. There are still dreams I'd like to see come true, but life is hard enough without the extra pressure we put on ourselves.

So more than ever, my goal for this year is just to take life as it comes, day by day, and do the best I can.

If I never get any closer to realizing those dreams than where I'm standing today, I'm okay with that. It's a good place, no, it's a great place to be.

I am truly blessed.

Yesterday my kids joined me as tour guides for a day of Austin Adventures. Despite living in the area for almost 20 years, there are so many "Austin" things I've never experienced.

We only made a dent in the list, but it was a great day, starting with brunch at Cherrywood Coffeehouse with my oldest, Tommy, and Andrew, a longtime friend of Tommy's from high school and college days...plus Andrew's beautiful wife and two precious kids. 

I believe birthdays are for experiencing 'firsts', so I ordered a smoked crayfish omelette...my first time to eat crayfish. And it was yummy!

From there we picked up my other two kids and headed for the eclectic shops lining South Congress. Costumes, art, antiques, and lots of interesting junk.  

There were also street musicians and food trailers! Oh, so many food trailers!

Still full from brunch, I settled on a 24 Carrot cupcake from the Hey Cupcake! trailer and shared it with the kids.

(Great timing! My future daughter-in-law was across the street at Home Slice with her best friend, on a break from wedding errands, so I even got to see her, which was like getting more cream cheese icing on my cupcake!)

From there we went to the highest spot in Austin - Mount Bonnell. By the time you drive there, it's only a few flights of stone steps to the top, where you get a gorgeous view of Lake Austin in one direction and the Austin skyline in the other. 

 

It's not exactly mountain-climbing. But my kids zoomed ahead of me and I was out of breath by the time I joined them at the top.

I have an old, old, old postcard that features a photograph of the state capital from Mount Bonnell and wanted to reproduce it. So you can imagine how disappointed I was that someone had the gall to build something mostly blocking the capital from view. Sigh.

You can barely see the tip of the capital peeking up, but the University of Texas Tower is standing proud and unobstructed at least, there on the left.

 

When I saw that I was testing the patience of my kids with all of the photos of us that I asked strangers to take and the amazing views, we headed to our last stop: Rainey Street, a historic dictrict recently converted to a strip of bars and restaurants.

I was ready for something to eat and drink, but I confess the biggest draw for me to Rainey Street was Geraldine, a guinea fowl who lives in the area. She's been in the news, trying to warn people of her existence so she doesn't get run over. She even has her own Facebook page.

So you can imagine my excitement when, as soon as we pulled into a parking space, Daniel said "Hey, there's a guinea fowl pecking at the tires."

In a flash I was scrambling out of the car, telling her how pretty she was and snapping photos. Yes, I was star struck. Oh, if we had only known about her back when Frankie was alive. They would have made a beautiful couple!

 

I caught up to my kids and we headed into Craft Pride, where there's a mind-boggling selection of craft beers. My taste for beer is slowly recovering from the initial menopausal shock from a few years ago. I'm not sure if that's good or bad, but it was fun sitting on the patio behind the bar, sipping on a beer and talking to my kids.

(That just seems so weird.)

After that, we wandered down the street, trying to decide where to eat. We picked the Javelina Bar, because Tommy had been there before. The food was great! (So were the Bloody Mary's. Hey, it was my birthday, and I had a designated driver!)

I have to thank my wonderful kids again for helping me celebrate my birthday. I've always had lots of fun with them, whether it was visiting the playground at McDonald's or the Natural Science Museum in Houston or the zoo, and it's still awesome to spend so much time with them.

If I never accomplish a single thing in my life, it's okay with me, because I played a part in bringing those three into this world. And that's something special. In a good way. 

And then, would you believe the fun  and celebrations continued today?  I met some of my local Deer Park Divas at Jack Allen's Kitchen for an amazing brunch. (I swear I've gained 10 pounds this weekend!)

Gwen made a Red Velvet Cake and Darla solicited contributions for a gift card for me to buy some cowboy - er, cowgirl - boots. I've been trying and trying to win some through contests on Facebook, with no success. I think they felt sorry for me.

My friends are so sneaky and amazing and I love them all.

As I said, I am blessed. Amen.

And now for the official "Sweet!" list from the past week...

 

Monday: listening to the writings of 4th graders; the silky soft fur of a bunny rabbit; taking a break on a small terrace beside a little pond with your husband, listening to the birds sing above you and the trickle of a small waterfall

Tuesday: finishing a long walk with your puppies just before the rain begins; enjoying the sight, sound, and smell of a spring shower from the shelter of your porch; fewer mice turds in your car, indicating the party might be moving somewhere else; a day of much-needed heavy rain

Wednesday: recovering from your fright long enough to remove the little mouse hiding in your glove box and place it in the woods; gumbo with grilled shrimp and smoked duck for lunch on a rainy day; two days in a row of customers with British-y accents; no damage from the high winds that kept you awake the night before

Thursday: no more mouse poop in your car!; gathering with friends for a movie and dinner, especially when it's in honor of your birthday; movies starring Billy Crystal and Bette Midler

 

Friday: picking up your new $1 iPhone from the post office; amazing magic tricks performed by a high school student; {bittersweet} getting off work early enough to attend a friend's funeral

Saturday: your 54th birthday; brunch with your son and his friend; seeing your son's childhood friends all grown up, with kids of their own; exploring Austin with your kids as tour guides; the view of Austin from Mount Bonnell; Hey Cupcake; meeting Geraldine the Rainey Street Guinea Fowl

Sunday: pancakes after Mass; continuing your birthday celebration with sweet friends, a delicious brunch buffet, Bloody Mary's, and Red Velvet Cake; friends who pool funds together to get you something you couldn't afford to get yourself; Polish pottery; helping a friend celebrate her book release (Susie Kralovansky's "There Was a Tall Texan Who Swallowed A Flea"); an afternoon walk in warm sunshine with your puppies

 

 

I hope you all had a week full of sweet! moments! If you don't think you did, pay more attention! I swear, they're there!

 

 

Linking with

Coach Christine, Queen of the Cosmos

We could hear her screaming from the other side of the soccer field, giving directions, shouting encouragement, and even growling disapproval at bad calls, voicing our own outrage so effectively we didn't have to. 

She was the epitome of a Mama Bear, fierce, loving, and protective of all of the girls on the Cosmos, TG's soccer team, equally. We were blessed to spend almost every weekend with her during soccer season for five years of our lives.

I knew her cancer wasn't responding to treatments. There was an open house a couple of weekends ago for friends to come and see her, but it was a long, tiring day at the winery and I decided I was too pooped and yucky to go that evening. 

Instead, I decided I would grab TG and we would pay Christine a quick visit one evening the next week. I knew she'd want to see TG more than me, anyway. But that week sped by, and the next, without "finding the time"...and now it's too late to see her again in person, give her a last hug, and tell her thank you in person.

Because Christine passed away on Monday.

My good intentions lie dried out, crumbled in a pile of ashes before me, so learn from my mistake and grab yours into a bouquet while they're fresh.  Carry them to the person you need to see again... the person you need to hug or kiss or say forgive me or thank you or whatever...because time doesn't bend to our convenience. It's on its own schedule and doesn't give a damn for ours.

Coach Christine was fierce, passionate, and all heart. I doubt her good intentions ever wilted even the teensiest bit.

I'm grateful she was a part of our lives, even though it was for a short time, and regretful that I didn't get to give her one last hug and thank you in person. She was an inspiration to me (and I'm sure to TG) and I'm better for knowing her.

 

Rest in peace, Coach...although I know you're really still there on the sidelines, pacing up and down, keeping an eye on those you love, giving support, encouragement, and protection. Your voice may have been silenced, but never your heart.

Aging with grace. What does that mean, anyway?

I stepped into the classroom of second graders and made my way to the teacher's desk. "Are you someone's grandmother?" one little munchkin asked. 

"No, I'm the substitute teacher," I said with forced smile, trying to recover from such a fierce Reality Check that early in the morning, and making myself promise not to hold a grudge against that little...um, cutie pie.

I turn 54 in less than two weeks...indeed, quite old enough to be someone's grandmother. If you're 55 or older, you're probably calling me a baby. But if you're 40 or younger, I'm sure 54 sounds as old to you as it looked to that second-grader. I remember when it sounded old to me, too.

But I don't feel old. In so many ways I feel the same as I did at 5 and 10 and 18, and in those moments when I said "I do" and held each of my babies for the very first time.

When I was facing 50, time took on new meaning. The hour glass was more empty than full, and not only had I wasted a lot of it, but I could see what was left slipping away, seemingly faster and faster.

It made me think about aging. What it meant to me. How I wanted it to look on me.

I decided I wanted to be able to enjoy whatever time I had left. I knew the road ahead was full of physical potholes, so I focused on getting healthy, from the inside out. I felt guilty for taking my body for granted for so many years and vowed to treat it right from then on. 

I became my own best friend, accepting the good and bad, my weaknesses and strengths, likes and dislikes. I developed high expectations for myself, but also cut myself some slack. I focused on finding balance, although it's still a struggle. Work. Play. Time alone. Time with friends and family. Giving. Taking.

I refused to give into the stereotypes, the standard expectations of what it means to be an older woman, of what's considered "proper". I decided to shake things up in my life, to stretch and appreciate all aspects of myself, to discover and expand the talents God gave me.

In the process I discovered a sense of freedom and excitement and joy that I'd never known. 

So as I head into another year, I'll just continue being me, who wears jeans, loves to dance, and wants to keep learning till the day she dies. 

Because aging with grace just means living with grace, whether you're celebrating your first birthday or your 100th.

I wish I'd started sooner.

This is my contribution to GenerationFabulous's latest blog hop on what aging gracefully means to us. Go HERE to see the other contributions.

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Labor(er)s of Love

I had fifteen minutes before my meeting started. A guest was going to be telling us about a project he had initiated. I wanted to get a look at it beforehand, so I arrived early - for once - and headed to the woods behind the church with my camera.

...At least, there used to be woods there, so thick with Juniper trees and underbrush you couldn't step foot beyond the children's playscape. But that evening last week I found a cedar-chip path lined with rocks winding through enough trees to provide shade and cast shadows as the sun drops.

 

 

This man had envisioned an outdoor Stations of the Cross and initially wanted to do all the work himself. When he found himself overwhelmed, other parishioners stepped forward to help with the clearing of trees and create the little creek to divert rainwater. 

Children in the parish had helped line the paths with rocks.

 

 

Others helped build this log fence.

 

 

And another man is stripping cedar logs and building crosses for each station. 

 

It's not finished yet, but already it's such a peaceful, reflective place to walk. What a gift this man has given to our parish and community!

But that's not all...

Along with his wife, he is starting a Family Ministry for our church, taking a survey to see what the needs are and finding speakers to come once a quarter on the different topics, such as divorce, loss of a child or spouse, problems with teenagers...leaving enough time in between speakers for the groups to continue to meet on their own and develop a support system. 

At our last meeting another couple spoke about their ministry...serving gourmet breakfast treats in between Masses. I'm talking Quiche Lorraine, folks, not glazed donuts or stale coffee cake! Our small activity center now overflows with people enjoying the treats and getting to know one another better. They call it "The Garden of Eatin'". Cute, huh?

I snapped this photo with my phone one Sunday. I think it explains why they go to all of this trouble every week...

 

 

Another woman in our parish, a member of my committee, heard about a Prayer Shawl ministry, so she recruited a bunch of knitters and in just a few weeks they already have over twenty shawls to pass out to those who are sick, grieving, or lonely. A warm hug and prayer they can hold. So thoughtful!

There was a period in my life when I had a meeting of some kind almost every night. Take three kids, multiply by at least three organizations/activities they're involved in from the time they start school until they graduate from high school, add several small town community and church organizations and board meetings, and you get the picture. I was addicted to volunteering. 

As my kids grew and flew the nest, I left behind one volunteer position after another until now all I have is this one committee where I get to hear about these people and their ministries.

They inspire me to think bigger and be more giving. I feel so blessed just to know them. 

Even though I realize my plate is too full right now trying to pay for all those years I only volunteered my time to consider biting off a large project, I'm keeping my heart open for other ways I can give back, even if it's in little bits and pieces. 

Unselfish and noble actions are the most radiant pages in the biography of souls. 

~David Thomas

What about you? Do you volunteer your time and talents anywhere in particular? 

Instructions on Finding a Keeper

I'm combining both of today's Scintilla prompts into one:

"What’s the biggest lie you’ve ever told? Why? Would you tell the truth now, if you could?"

 "Tell the story about something interesting (anything!) that happened to you, but tell it in the form of an instruction manual (Step 1, Step 2, Step 3….)"

 

1. First, form a serious relationship with a guy who is terribly jealous.

2. Win a scholarship in Chemical Engineering, where you are only one of a handful of women in the program compared to hundreds of men.

3. Take Linear Algebra Computer Programming in the first summer semester.

4. Become project partners with Don, who tells you about his girlfriend with the really cool apartment and doesn't even flirt with you a tiny bit.

5. Tell your boyfriend that of course your partner is a girl, just to avoid the inevitable accusations and fight that would follow if he knew your partner was really a boy. 

6. Make the mistake of letting your boyfriend see something with Don's name written on it.

7. Listen to the inevitable accusations.

8. Say "No really, Don is a girl. I don't know why she spells it that way." Shrug your shoulders and roll your eyes for good effect.

9. Change the subject really fast.

10. Mentally question whether you want to be in a relationship where you have to lie, especially over nothing at all, and especially since you're starting to have a hard time keeping up with the lies.

11. Meet a really great guy while you're out dancing one night and your boyfriend preferred going out with his friends.

12. Say "yes" when he asks if he can meet you at Gilley's the next night to see Alabama play.

13. Let your boyfriend know you met someone, because you don't want to lie anymore.

14. Go to the movies and a Pat Benatar concert and the Renaissance Festival with the new guy.

15. Tell the new guy the truth about anything you ever lied about to your (old) boyfriend to see if he can handle it.

16. Decide that even if this new thing doesn't last, you are never going to be in a relationship where there is no trust.

17. Introduce the new guy to your best friend at work (male) and another old boyfriend who you just reconnected with as friends and your most recent old boyfriend's mom, dad, and little brothers, watching his reaction very carefully.

18. If he handles the truth about you and isn't jealous about you having guy friends, marry him as fast as possible. He's a keeper.

 

 

Make Good Art (Life)

Last night I stepped away from my computer before midnight for a change, set my alarm for 4:30 am, and before drifting off to sleep, asked God to remind me when it went off that I was excited about getting up so early because I would have time to write.

He did. And so, for the first time since the conference in February, I pulled out the critiques on my children's book, opened up the file, and began yet another revision in a silent house, well before the distraction of a husband stirring or a pink sunrise or a puppy's face hoping for a walk could distract me. 

I haven't given myself a deadline, other than to move forward every day, even if it's just to develop a character or backstory that no one will ever read.

On the wall of my office, right in my line of vision, is a placque, a gift from my friend Jill, that says "never, never, never give up" and on the other side is reminder from my friend Rae to "Find a passion and pursue it...never give up...do what you love...follow your dreams...make every moment count...be true to who you are..."

And who I am is a writer. Perhaps not the best, but I won't get better unless I write.

I even resisted glancing at my email this morning, because...

"There was a day when I looked up and realised that I had become someone who professionally replied to email, and who wrote as a hobby.  I started answering fewer emails, and was relieved to find I was writing much more."

Those are the words of writer Neil Gaiman from a commencement speech to a class of university art students in May of 2012. One of the women in my critique group sent the link of his speech to the rest of us.  

His words are aimed at artists, but since life itself is a form of art, I'm sharing it below with all of you, just in case I'm not the last person in the world to watch it. (That happens a lot!)

The speech is almost 20 minutes long, but every word is worth listening to. They were my wake-up call to re-focus on my book, but might be your wake-up call to re-focus on whatever gives meaning and satisfaction to your life. He has a lovely British accent, which makes it even better.

So turn it on, get up and stretch or do your nails or something while you listen. 

Okay, here's another little bit from it, if I haven't convinced you yet...

"Life is sometimes hard. Things go wrong, in life and in love and in business and in friendship and in health and in all the other ways that life can go wrong. And when things get tough, this is what you should do.

Make good art.

I'm serious. Husband runs off with a politician? Make good art. Leg crushed and then eaten by mutated boa constrictor? Make good art. IRS on your trail? Make good art. Cat exploded? Make good art. Somebody on the Internet thinks what you do is stupid or evil or it's all been done before? Make good art. Probably things will work out somehow, and eventually time will take the sting away, but that doesn't matter. Do what only you do best. Make good art.

Make it on the good days too."

~Neil Gaiman

                 

Neil Gaiman Addresses the University of the Arts Class of 2012 from The University of the Arts (Phl) on Vimeo.

If I could talk, I'd tell of...

Births. Deaths. Certainly those.

Celebrations for birthdays, for weddings, for the end of a drought and good crops.

Tables in the yard, laden with food. Tantalizing smells wafting from the kitchen, promising more.

Heartache. Loved ones who went to war and never returned. Arguments and screen doors slamming.

Joyous reunions.

Neighbors helping put out a fire, build a rock fence, raise a windmill, plant a harvest, chase down a runaway cow.

Friends delivering a baby. Providing food and a silent shoulder in times of mourning.

Bicycles and toy wagons littering the yard. A beloved mutt curled up on the porch near the door or sprawled in a patch of sunlit dirt in the yard.

Young couples, just married, and older ones, helping each other up the steps. 

The squeak of a porch swing on a summer evening. The smell of a bonfire on an autumn night. 

Days when voices and laughter echoed from the windows, open to capture a cool breeze in a stifling Texas summer.

And days like these when silence is palpable...when only memories and shadows walk the worn wooden floors.

I pass this old farmhouse on my way to work and it always starts my mind wondering about its history. Finally, one day, I stopped with my camera...and that's when it spoke to me.

 

A Little Sister, a Shower, and a Salt Lick

I taught her how to drive a stick-shift - she caught on fast, much faster than my kids years later - and when her brother broke up with me, she wrote me poems to soothe my broken heart. She was barely a teenager back then, two years younger than me, and so in our split-high-school district, we never even attended the same school, so our lives went separate ways.

But score another one for Facebook! We recently reconnected. So when she came to Austin to visit her daughter this weekend, we made plans to meet up again for the first time in decades.

In a cool little restaurant within walking distance of her daughter's apartment (Fabi and Rosi) we sped through the years over wine and yummy food. The hours went way too fast. 

It meant missing a writing contest deadline and getting up at 5 a.m. yesterday morning to get my part of my future daughter-in-law's bridal shower ready, but it was totally worth it. Those are the moments that make life sweet!, and you have to grab them while you can.

Here are a few more sweet! moments from the past week...

 

 

Monday: writing before work; realizing you can still work geometry problems; a roaring wind on a sunny day; getting hooked by a good book

Tuesday: soft birdsong on your morning walk; a friend calling you with a job tip; your son's wedding invitation waiting for you in the mail; playing your drums after work

Wednesday: a puppy waiting patiently and hopefully outside the door for you to step outside and cuddle with her; devoting time to your book two days in a row; a long overdue hair cut and re-blonding; quick hugs from your daughter; remembering to pay some bills before they're late

 

 

Thursday: friends who make adorable favors for your future daughter-in-law's bridal shower; clearance racks; your husband still awake to help carry groceries into the house and help put them away at 10:30 pm

Friday: time to run before work; a refresher course in World Geography; starting the second book in the Hunger Games series, while getting paid; catching-up decades over dinner with an old boyfriend's little sister; experiencing another eclectic Austin restaurant

 

 

Saturday: a bridal shower for your future daughter-in-law; a Saturday night at the Salt Lick with your kids and great friends

 

 

Sunday: sleeping in and going to late Mass; the stories on CBS Sunday Morning

 

I don't watch much television, but CBS Sunday Morning is one show I try not to miss. This morning they featured the story of El Paso student Mitchell Marcus. Perhaps you've already heard it, but if you haven't, do yourself a favor and watch this video till the end. 

I hope you have a week filled with sweet! moments...and may we all be like this high school student and make life sweet! for someone else.

Five Things on Friday

 

 

1. Our property is dotted with small iron crosses, marking the resting places of so many precious furry or feathered or scaly loved ones we've been blessed to know. I miss them all. The one above is Charly's and Frankie's.

 

2. I will never get rich monetarily through my blog, but the friendships I've formed because of it are priceless. I've met so many supportive, encouraging, talented friends, and two of them have recently published books. I didn't hesitate to buy them because they are both wonderful, evocative writers, and I feel confident touting them here even though I haven't had time to read either one.  

Love Always Wags Its Tail, by Kathy H. Porter, is a collection of short essays about the dogs in her life. Wolf Pascoe shares what it's like being an anesthesiologist in Breathing for Two.

Follow the links to their blogs and you'll find information about the books. (I received no monetary compensation for these shout-outs - only friendship and support for my own writing.)

 

3. The next time you go out to eat and the place is packed and you start to get irritated because you feel your waiter is ignoring you, please take a deep breath, realize you are not the only customer in the place and that he/she can only do so much at one time, and please, please, please remember your manners. Thank you.

(Oh. And if the website suggests reservations, either make a reservation or don't get upset if you can't be seated. Especially if you're bringing 7 of your friends.) 

 

4. Back at the beginning of January, I decided I would start getting up at 4:30 a.m. instead of 5:30 a.m. so I would have time to work out and/or write before heading to work, if someone happened to call me out. (That's the life of a substitute teacher - you have to be flexible!)

Well, I finally did it. Once. This week. Yay, me!

 

5. For the past week or so, I've spent hours tormenting myself, listening to one You Tube video after another of potential songs for the mother/son dance at the upcoming wedding.

I just sat here at my computer and cried and cried. It was beautiful agony, I tell you, reliving those mom memories. But here's one that made me laugh, even though I wouldn't do this myself..

(Actually, that theme from the Ninja Turtles brings back so many memories, I almost started crying in this one, too!)

 

Nancy at A Rural Journal inspired me to start my Five Things on Friday, although I mutilated her better-alliterated version, 5 Facts Friday, so I encourage you to read hers and add your own if you're so inclined! And I remembered Mrs. 4444 has a regular Friday Fragments hop, so I'll be linking up there, too. It's a great way to tie up all those loose ends from the week!

Hope you have a great weekend!

What is (Real) Love?

Love talked about can be easily turned aside, but love demonstrated is irresistible.~

W. Stanley Mooneyham
American minister and speaker, 20th century

 

I was bemoaning the fact that, despite hundreds of miles run, lunges lunged and squats thrusted, and losing enough weight that I could buy my bras in "training" sizes, I still have my grandmother's saddle-bag thighs.

"But you don't have any cellulite anymore," Tom told me.

"Really?"

"Yeah. Really."

The next day I looked for myself. Sigh. Just as dimpled as ever. I knew Tom hadn't been lying or merely trying to make me feel better; he just can't see worth crap anymore. 

But he also just doesn't care. He doesn't care that my hair is thinning. Heck, he wouldn't care if I went bald. He has never been able to tell when I'm wearing makeup or not (I've tested him)...so I'm sure my deepening wrinkles go unnoticed. He pays attention to me, he sees me...but it's the me on the inside...the me that he met and fell in love with despite himself almost 31 years ago. He looks past the "me" on the outside just as I look past the 55-year-old "him" on the outside and see the "him" who asked me for a dance at Diamondback so many years ago.

That's love.

With my son's wedding on the horizon, I've been thinking about married love and what makes it last - or not. Here are a few more...

...Love is the sound of drums coming from my house...fulfilling a wish I had tossed aside, believing it couldn't come true because there wasn't a spot for them in our new house. Tom surprised me with a set (thank you, Craig's List) on our anniversary a few years ago. It proved to me he pays attention. At least sometimes.

(Love is throwing him not one, but two surprise birthday parties...plus a huge family reunion/50th birthday party that lasted two weeks and involved having people sleeping on every square inch of the house, including on a mattress in the downstairs shower stall. Poor Kirby)

...Love is coming in the house from a long weekend, relieved to discover your coffee grounds from four days before have (thank the Lord!) been dumped and all the pieces are clean and dry, ready to go...despite the fact that your spouse doesn't drink coffee. (If he hadn't cleaned it for me...ooh, gross!)

(Love is picking up empty Dr. Pepper cans from all over the house...and outside...and biting my tongue. Pretty much.)

...Love is finding the coupon section of the Sunday newspaper separated for me, without asking.

(Love is gathering up the Sunday newspaper, at times from different rooms in the house, and putting it in the wicker basket where it goes.)

...Love is not minding that I plant myself in front of the computer every evening after dinner to write...and biting his tongue when he sees I'm on Facebook instead.

(Love is not minding that some nights he just crawls in bed and flips channels, instead of working on whatever project is in progress at the time, because he's physically and mentally worn out. He leaves the house at 5:30 am, for goodness sake!)

...Love is not being jealous about phone calls from old boyfriends, or emails from old boyfriends, or birthday lunches with old boyfriends.

(Love is not being jealous about his women friends and co-workers...even when he pinches Lisa's rear-end.)

...Love is always dancing the Cotton-Eyed Joe and the Schottische even though his hips and ankles still hurt from that accident in 1998.

(Love is sitting by his side in the hospital for a week, afraid to leave him...holding the urinal in place for an hour because he thinks he can go on his own...feeding him ice chips, sleeping on a fold-out chair, grateful for the sound of his snoring because it means he's alive.)

...Love is piecing together sections of workshop floor matting for me to lie on when I do sit-ups, so my tailbone doesn't get bruised anymore.

(Love is subscribing to Men's World e-newsletters and forwarding the good ones to him to keep him healthy.)

...Love is not nagging each other because the bathroom he/she is in charge of cleaning is a borderline health problem.

...Love is hanging on to and supporting each other through the illness and death of a parent, financial worries, and the never-ending ups and downs of having children.

...Love is saying to hell with everything that needs to be done around here to play ping-pong...or go for long walks along the creek...or travel virtually to Ireland or Istanbul or Italy with Rick Steves...

...Love is still joking around, still having fun, still laughing at each other and at ourselves after almost 32 years...and hoping we have at least another 32 together.

The proof of love is in the works. Where love exists, it works great things. But when it ceases to act, it ceases to exist.

~Pope St. Gregory the Great

 

 

What do you think "Love is..."?

Share with me! 

 
(If your comment doesn't show up right away, don't worry. Typepad's new anti-spam system is dumping them all into my spam folder. But I'll find them. Thank you!) 

 

This is re-post from 2010 that I spiffied up in honor of Valentine's Day and the 1st Annual Valentine's Day Boost-My-Blog Party hosted by a Rural Journal and Two Bears Farm. Follow the links to check out other participants.

Love and Marriage, and everything in between

Love is patient, love is kind...

When I heard those words from First Corinthians at Mass Sunday, my mind drifted back to my wedding. Like so many other couples, we chose this as one of the readings in our ceremony, believing we would always be patient and kind with each other. 

Well, we haven't. Not always.

It is not proud, it is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs...

Sigh.

Over the past thirty years I'm sure we've both committed each one of these sins. Marriage is tough. Pride is hard to swallow. Exhaustion and stress and differences of opinion on everything from kids and money to how to squeeze a tube of toothpaste just chip, chip, chip away at those bonds of love tying you together.  

We've survived plenty of bumps. There have been times I didn't think we'd make it to the next week, much less the next anniversary, times I thought that bond had cracked right in two. But somehow each of us kept hanging on, and that bond would feel stronger than ever. For awhile.

I'm not taking a single day together for granted. Life is tricky.

It always protects, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails.

I believe this is true, if you're determined and stubborn and want it to be true bad enough to fight for it, to swallow your pride, to keep an open mind that perhaps your way isn't the only way. 

To believe in your love for each other. To believe in God's love for each of you, and to ask for his love when your love isn't enough, which can happen all too often. To hang on to each other, no matter what.

When I stepped into my parents' home Sunday evening, the sound of running water drew me down the hallway to the bathroom. Water was pouring out of the shower head, thanks to a broken valve.

I discovered, from Daddy, it had been that way for more than 24 hours. Yikes, the water bill!

So first thing Monday morning, I called the plumber. Within thirty minutes, the dispatcher called to let us know someone was on their way...

...which upset Daddy, because Mama wasn't awake yet. He didn't want her to be disturbed. He worried more about her getting enough rest than that upcoming water bill. 

Or...perhaps he worried she'd be mad and grumpy and he didn't want to deal with it.

After more than sixty years, their marriage is a dance of irritation and protectiveness, of tender looks and looks that could kill. Time is flying by faster than ever for them and instead of being able to savor their time together, they're too busy with trips to the emergency room and doctor's appointments and their kids trying to tell them what to do.

They're worried about each other. Self-sacrificing. If there was ever a time their love wasn't unconditional, it's long gone.

But I can't forget those four years in the middle when they were divorced. No contact whatsoever. I still don't know the details leading up to the split, and I don't want to.

Lord knows there were enough of them. They had faced tons of obstacles, from problems with kids and money to in-law issues. You name it...it happened to them. So I'm guessing there was a lack of patience and kindness, and a surplus of pride, anger, and record-keeping. How could there not be?

And yet...somewhere inside of them hope survived. Love persevered. Love didn't fail.

I bet they wish they could go back in time and get those four years back. I bet they wish they could have just listened to each other and not wasted so much time apart.

In just a few short months my oldest will be getting married. I guess that's why my mind is reflecting on all of this. I wish I could tell them that it will be easy, but I think they already know that it won't. 

I do believe that the wisdom in these verses will see them through the inevitable bumps; I just hope they do a better job remembering them than we have.

Watching my parents, I know it's worth it. So, no matter what, I'll keep believing in us.

Here I Go Again (a BlogHer Book Club review)

 

Think about your life.

If you found a way to go back in time to some point in it, would you try to change anything? Would you take advantage of the chance for a do-over? Perhaps swallow some angry words you've always wished you could take back?

Or would you leave things just as they are?

I've been thinking about that as I read Here I Go Again by Jen Lancaster for the BlogHer Book Club.

For years I said I had no regrets, that I wouldn't change a thing if I had the chance because of my wonderful husband and kids. I've had my share of downs, but overall, I love my life. I'm blessed and I know it.

But the truth is I do have some regrets, and if I had the chance, I'd high-tail it back to the fall of 1977, breakup with my then-boyfriend and attend all of my college classes, instead of driving to Galveston and moping on the seawall about how bad things were in my life right then. (Why do some of us do that, make bad situations worse by creating new problems for ourselves?)

Without the distraction of a cheating boyfriend chipping away at my self-esteem, and by keeping up with my classes, I think dropping out a year later would never have crossed my mind.

I would still have met Tom, because I believe it was part of God's plan for us to be together. (I don't think it was His original plan for me to drop out - I think He just cleaned up what I messed up. He's good at that. Lots of practice, unfortunately.)

With a Chemical Engineering degree in hand, I could still have gone to work at the DuPont chemical plant, where I made so many great friends.

But since I'm not a character in a novel like Lissy Ryder, the main character of Here I go Again who does get a chance for a do-over, I'll just give thanks that God is able to make the best of our bad decisions if we let Him. 

Lissy is a former high school mean girl, all grown up and dealing with the fruits of her lifelong sharp tongue and selfish ways. She is forced to move back in to her childhood home when her husband files for divorce and she loses her Public Relations job.

Her twenty-year high school reunion approaches and, when she sees that many of her former classmates are huge successes, she gets the idea of starting her own PR company and soliciting business at the reunion.

Unfortunately, but understandably, all of her classmates despise her. Even her sweet, long-suffering best friend Nicole finally dumps her on one of those former classmates when Lissy gets drunk at the reunion.

But thanks to that classmate, Lissy is able to relive a few weeks of her high school senior year, where she makes better decisions and manages to be a kinder, gentler version of her previous seventeen-year-old self. 

Waking up in the new present, she's pleased to find that everything has gone her way this time. She's rich, the owner of a highly successful PR company, and still happily married.

Of course, the butterfly effect being what it is, everything isn't as great as it seems at first...but I won't divulge anymore in case you decide to read it yourself, which I think you should just because it's so funny.

I did have a few issues with it:

• Lancaster implies that all Homecoming and Prom Queens are mean snobs. As a former Homecoming and Prom Queen, I disagree. (I hope my classmates do, too!) 
• She says (through Lissy) that having children makes you look old before your time. Obviously, I disagree with that, as well. 
• A few plot parts felt manipulated. My critique group would have torn those apart. 
• Other than Lissy and her mother, the dialogue and characters were indistinctive.
• Oh, and for some reason one character ends up bald after Lissy's trip back in time because in the new future he's in a bad marriage. Huh? 

But overall I enjoyed it. It kept me turning the pages to see what was going to happen next. I felt it was thought provoking, triggering a lot of what-ifs.

And, as I said, it was just funny! Lissy is telling the story and her running commentary is bold and hilarious. I laughed enough that I forgave Lancaster for assuming I must be a mean snob since I was voted Homecoming Queen.

If you get a chance to read it, I think you'll enjoy it. If nothing else, you'll give thanks your high school years are behind you.

What about you? Is there anything you would change if you could travel back in time?

P.S. This is a paid review for BlogHer Book Club but the opinions expressed are totally my own. Join the discussions on the book here.

 

Gratitude (and other sweet!s)

 

My dad is still in the hospital following his little stroke earlier this week, but he's stable and should be able to go home tomorrow.

However, considering his health history and his stubborn determination to no longer follow the heart/diabetic healthy diet he's followed for a couple of decades, I doubt this is the last emergency trip to the hospital he's going to take. 

My older son drove down yesterday to check on them. Twenty-seven years ago they were taking care of him (while I worked) and now he's taking care of them (while I work.)

What a beautiful circle.

I appreciate all of your prayers for Daddy, as well as all of the advice and encouragement you sent me after my last post. I still haven't figured out what I'm going to do, but you've given me so much to consider when making my decision. Thank you so much, sweet friends!

It's been an up-and-down, exhausting week, but each day still offered plenty of sweet! moments, nonetheless. I hope you're still finding plenty, too! Share them in the comments!

 

Sunday: new wine, fresh from the barrel; the half moon and a sky full of stars guiding you home after an evening of laughter and tears with dear friends; a glimpse of deer and a ringtail in your headlights 

Monday: sleeping in; your son joining you on your morning walk with the puppies and helping you take down your Christmas tree; moonlight on a caliche road and tin roof

Be like the bird that, pausing in her flight awhile on boughs too slight, feels them give way beneath her, and yet sings, knowing that she hath wings.

~Victor Hugo

Tuesday: a glimpse of a cardinal, first thing in the morning; a hawk soaring through a cloudless azure sky; sore muscles; remembering to pick up your puppy's dog food on your way home from work

Wednesday: a walk in the fog; brick oven roasted veggies; relaxing after work with a glass of wine on a patio overlooking a vineyard; baby steps on your book

Thursday: an invitation to join an online group of women writers; high school students who are courteous and respectful; cell phones so you can keep up with news of your dad's latest mini-stroke even though you're miles away

Friday: news that your dad is stable and hearing his voice via speakerphone; the full moon rising; daydreaming about returning to college

Saturday: a chocolate cake-ball-on-a-stick; a face-to-face moment with a deer on your caliche road, even if you're not able to capture it with your camera; your son making a road trip to see your parents in the hospital; friends asking about your dad; a text from a friend reminding you there's a full moon, because it made her think of you; dramatic clouds swirling around a full moon

Sunday: your husband taking over your dog-feeding duties to give you a little free time before work; singing "How Great Thou Art"; a job tip from a friend; a beautiful surprise visitor in your yard when you get home from church; a gift of song from a dear friend

 

Our surprise visitor, Rico, who lives up the road. Can you believe he's 12? 

 

My Tree...

...glitters with innocence and paper plate angels. It wears a garland of memories of young love and first Christmases, and droops with the weight of salt dough snowmen, whimsy, friendship, and love.

small stone #18

 

It's time to say goodbye.

I've spent most of the evening tucking red and green back into big cardboard boxes.

 

Maybe it's because I procrastinated decorating for Christmas so long, but I've felt a little melancholy putting it all away.

I'm not quite tired of the snowmen and Santas and angels...and memories.

 

All that's left is the tree.

I decided to leave it until tomorrow evening, when I can take my time and treat each ornament with loving care.

They deserve more than a hasty goodbye!

 

(Am I the only one with a tree still sparkling in the corner of their livingroom?)  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Surprise! and other sweet!s

 

I can't believe it.

I surprised my friend Darla with a Diva gathering in her honor at my house this past weekend. Ten women who graduated from high school with us piled into my house for a slumber party, one even driving from Louisiana to be here. Many more who couldn't attend still donated money for a Williams-Sonoma gift card.

It feels good to pay her back, even if it was just a drop in the bucket;  she has been a huge cheerleader for my writing and photography for years and has given me so many sweet birthday surprises I can't even count them anymore.

Her husband was in on it, of course, along with about 50 high school girlfriends who have been private-messaging about it for months. Considering that, it is truly amazing she didn't catch on, isn't it? (If she did, she needs to consider a career move to the stage!)

There were tons of tiny sweet!s while they were here, but I'm not going to share them all because...

 

 

 

Hehehe.

That little plate was a hostess gift from of those dear friends, along with the Diva wine coozie above and this cork holder below. Sweet!

 

And now for more sweet!s of the past week...

 

Tuesday: rain tap-dancing on my umbrella; finally completely cleaning out and organizing your old roll top desk after thinking about it for five years; finishing up an editing job for a recent photo shoot; the gratitude of outside puppies who are allowed inside on a stormy day; hanging out at home all day with your baby girl

Wednesday: a second day of rain during a long drought; working in a high school library with a view of the mist-covered hills; watching new episodes of Modern Family with your daughter

 

Thursday: a second day in the high school library but with a view of sunny skies; student dioramas of The Hobbit; plotting a surprise party for a dear friend

Friday: a day of errands with your daughter, even if it's just getting her flu shot, stopping at Chick-Fil-A, and grocery shopping; your daughter's help getting your house ready for guests

Saturday: your baby girl's smile lingering in your heart after you drop her back off at college; laughing in the kitchen with forever friends; pulling off a surprise birthday party for a dear friend; hostess gifts; pineapple martinis and mini-Monte Cristo sandwiches; a husband who will drop what he's doing to take a photo of you and your girlfriends; slumber parties, at any age

 

Sunday: hanging out in your pajamas for hours, yakking with girlfriends; chilling on a rock with your dogs and camera in the middle of the woods on a crisp winter day; writing groups; not getting upset when the edits to your blog post disappear, meaning you'll have to start all over

Monday: a glimpse of the Great Blue Heron just after dawn; working with special needs kids all day; a call from your sister and text from a friend; the fire in the wood-burning stove starting easily 

 

Despite the sweet! moments of my past week, there were some tough ones, too. Our community lost two awesome people in unrelated incidents. I considered both of them friends, but so did almost everyone else around here. I'm really, really going to miss their faces and still have a hard time believing they have passed from this world.

Rest in peace, Mary and Frank.

 

Good China, Grown-up Kids, and other sweet!s

 

I fell in love with this china and crystal soon after I fell in love with Tom, back in the days when brides-to-be always registered for beautiful table settings that would probably spend more time in a china cabinet than gracing a table. 

Even though I can count on one hand the number of times I've actually used it, I don't regret asking for it. It makes me smile, just looking at those delicate roses.

And the crystal, with that tinge of pink...sigh. I was never a "pink" kind of girl, until I saw that crystal.

 

Yesterday, I freed the set from the china cabinet in honor of our Christmas-on-Epiphany dinner with the kids. They're grown now, after all, so there's a little less chance of breakage. But why the heck do I have that beautiful china if I'm not going to use it? Breakage be damned! (Besides, they can pay to replace it now!)

I kept the meal simple and relatively healthy, just a ham, a green salad, and a roasted asparagus dish.

I've never made roasted asparagus in my life and just kind of threw it together which is not something I usually do (with any success) but this was a total hit and I'm going to brag while I can!

Oh, so yummy.

And I say the meal was only "relatively" healthy because I spent Saturday baking cookies. Which triggered small stone #5:

 Fingers sticky from rolling dough sprinkled with sugar; the smell of peanut butter and chocolate wafting from the oven; mouth savoring yet another warm cookie. It's still Christmas time. 

 

 

It was a day full of sweet! moments, that's for sure. Here are a few more from the past week...

 

Sunday: Mass with your daughter; a successful Craig's List sale; your niece and nephew stepping up to help your parents when you can't be there; prayers, calls, and texts from your friends when your dad has another stroke 

Monday: calls from friends; catching a performance of Vanilla Ice on TV; skipping in the rain; only suffering a few bruises when your exuberant 60 pound puppy knocks you down on your rocky road; cell phones for staying in touch when your dad's in the hospital 250 miles away; dancing on New Year's Eve, even if it's in your livingroom while watching Ryan Secrest's countdown with your daughter 

Tuesday: stepping into a new year; a productive day, despite sleeping late; black-eyed peas; parents who stick together, forgive each other, and keep laughing no matter what life throws at them; sunshine breaking through gray clouds

Wednesday: playful puppies; hearing from a long-lost blogger friend with assurances that she's okay; a fire in your woodburning stove on a cold day

Thursday: another Craig's List sale; your dad making it through surgery just fine; homemade chicken noodle soup on a cold night; finishing a project you've been working on for months

Friday: husbands who keep the woodpile full and get a fire going before leaving for work; the rain stopping just in time for your walk, especially since you didn't get the snow you hoped for; potential jobs you think you'll enjoy; your dad getting released from the hospital; homemade chili on a cold, rainy night; loud rain after months of drought

 

 

Saturday: your mother-in-law's voice on the other end of the phone line; your mom's voice on the other end of the phone line; friends who share their photography lights with you; making cookies for your family; wrapping Christmas gifts; capturing the moments of a sweet 16 party for someone who you swear was just a baby yesterday; your daughter working as your photography assistant; laughing at SNL for the first time in years

Sunday: sipping coffee on the back deck on a brisk winter morning; the unity that comes from joined prayer; laughing in the church parking lot with longtime friends; celebrating Epiphany and Christmas with your kids and husband; using your good china and crystal; a culinary experiment that is a big hit; playing Santa; watching funny videos with your kids;

Monday: pink mornings; having 2/3 of your kids home together three days in a row (even though one is sick); another Craig's List sale; enough leftovers that you don't have to cook dinner; time to edit photos from your last shoot

 

I hope 2013 is off to a good start for you, full of sweet! moments every day! (And if it's not, open your eyes and your heart a teensy bit wider and I bet you'll discover some shy little sweets just lying there, waiting to be noticed.)

 

A New Year and Three Small Stones

 

So here we are on the third day of a new year already. When I last spoke to you, way back in 2012, there were gray skies above as well as inside.

I'm happy to report the sun has broken through in both places at least a few times since then, warming me with its soft light and reminding me it's still there before slipping back behind that gray curtain.

Last night it burst forth at sunset, making the sky look like molten lava and taking my breath away with it as it dropped below the dark hills. (I only had my phone to capture the moment. You can see it on my instagram page here but it really doesn't capture the beauty of it.)

The clouds rolled back in as it disappeared, but tomorrow morning we might wake to a few snowflakes and that will make the gray clouds totally worthwhile! 

My dad is still in the hospital. He had surgery today to insert a stent in his carotid artery, but it turned out the artery wasn't blocked enough to require one. I'm grateful for that, except it's the same conclusion doctors at another hospital came to just a few months ago when he had the arteriogram and the surgery on the other artery.

But, instead of focusing on whether or not these doctors did enough homework before heading into my dad's arteries (!!!!!) I'm just grateful he made it through today's surgery okay. And I'm grateful for my brother who was able to be there with my parents, and for my sister who makes sure I know what's going on despite being so far away. 

 

 

Despite the cold, TG and I have been spring cleaning the past few days, lugging clothes to resale shops and Goodwill. I'm in a fever to get organized and downsize and simplify, so I've also been weeding through piles and drawers of paperwork, and posting odds and ends on Craig's List. (Cha-ching! I've had two buyers!)

I've submitted job applications, worked on my book, finished a photo project I started months ago, and dove headfirst back into Flickr with two photo challenges. Interacting with other photographers motivates me to try new things with my camera. (Besides, I missed my Flickr friends.)

So that my writing doesn't get jealous of the attention I'm giving photography, I've joined the Mindful Writing Challenge on Writing Our Way Home, committing to write a "small stone" every day of January.

A small stone is just a short piece of writing that captures a moment when you are fully focused and engaged with the world around you. Writing stones helps me slow down, pay attention, and stretch my mind to use words creatively. I think I'll try to continue this beyond January.

Here are the three I've written so far:

1. Sun rays sweep gray clouds from the sky, like a straw broom clearing cobwebs from an old windowpane.
2. The flaming sun drops below chocolate hills, blowing rosy goodbye kisses to hovering clouds.
3. Tennis shoes crunch-crunch on caliche. Eight paws tap-tap beside me. Music of my mornings. 

 

 

Did you make a New Year's resolution? I usually don't, except for echoing Michael Franti's song "Hey, hey, hey..."

No matter how life is today, I won't let another moment slip away.

~Michael Franti

That includes another moment to take care of myself (daddy's health issues are a great reminder for that!), support my family and friends, be kind and encouraging, work toward my dreams, follow through on promises, dance, laugh, listen, love, be still...and take a deep breath before getting angry. 

It's been a full, emotional roller-coaster of a year already. I think I've used my whole repertoire!

So...what do you think of 2013 so far?

 

Linking up with Lissa at...

 

So, 2012, this is how we say goodbye...

 

This morning raindrops plopped on my head, making me think of that old B.J. Thomas song. I couldn't remember all the lyrics, just the "cryin's not for me... nothin's worryin' me" part.

Perfect timing, because as of yesterday afternoon, my dad's back in the hospital with a suspected stroke.But even though I shed a few tears and battled those little worry demons, I didn't hop in my car and head to Houston this time, instead trusting my siblings who live there to take care of my parents.(Hallelujah!, Daddy's stable and not showing any signs of paralysis.) 

Alas, all day the heavy gray sky sat on the hills surrounding me, obscuring them from my vision, and I thought, how appropriate for the cusp of a new year that seems foggy with changes I can sense but not visualize enough to predict their direction or the effects they will leave behind. 

One I know without a doubt will be wonderful - my oldest will be getting married in the spring. I can't wait for that, for the tears and laughter and dancing of that night...for the light of love in their eyes and for officially embracing a new daughter.

And, call me crazy, but I'm still optimistic that, even in this economy, there's someone out there who wants to hire a 53-year-old female with an eclectic work record and no degree for a fascinating job with good pay and benefits...and even with a full-time job I'll be able to finish my children's book and get back to my great-grandfather's story by the end of the year...and continue building my photography business. And sleep.

But I know some of the changes waiting in the mist of this new year will be tough. Tough enough that I don't want to imagine them at all, even as I try to prepare myself for them.

That gray cloud has settled inside of me today, I'm afraid. Tom and I usually have a party to welcome the new year, but this year we procrastinated more than usual and just never got around to planning it. I could dress up and go to a friend's party, but with Daddy in the hospital, I think I'm just going to stay home. It feels like a night to whisper goodbye and hello.

For the past few days I've been trying to think of my word for the year, hoping the right one would find me. And, thanks to the mist and fog obscuring the hills, it did:

Faith.

Faith to keep moving forward, even when my path is obscured. Faith that I'll have the wisdom I need. Faith I'll find a way to be a light for others...that I'll be flexible in the pushes and pulls to come in this next year...that I will know when to fly and when to perch and rest for awhile.

Faith that there will be enough money, enough love, enough time. Enough respect and trust. Enough whatever...which shouldn't be hard, because we've always had at least just enough in the past. 

Wishing all of you tons of blessings, love, light, and faith in 2013!

 

Assorted, one by one

TG and I shared a bag of assorted Toblerone chocolates this afternoon. Have you ever had one? They just melt in your mouth. Of course, it had been a long time since lunch, and that just made them taste even better. As much as I love dark chocolate, my favorite flavor was white chocolate, but they were all sinfully yummy.

And that's the way the past week has been. When I look back on my list of sweet! moments, it's hard to believe this has just been one week. Even though I haven't much time for writing or photography, it has been a week of wonderful assorted sweet!s...

 

Saturday: a long walk with boys and dogs; an arrowhead waiting on the road for thousands of years for your son to find; watching Mr. Magoo's A Christmas Carol with your kids; cyclops cookies, made by your kids; sharing a box of Lammes' Longhorns; a Christmas tree, dripping in lights and memories

 

 

Sunday: Mass with your family; a delicious turkey wrap for lunch, made for you by by your oldest; another boy-and-dog walk, and another arrowhead; Christmas cards, ready to mail; a movie with your son

 

 

Monday: no traffic on a road trip to Houston with your kids; a trip to the grocery store with your dad; red-winged black birds at your dad's bird feeder;  Christmas Eve Mass in the church where your kids were baptized, and recognizing the deacon who baptized 2/3 of them; fresh homemade tamales and good neighbors

Tuesday: the miracle of Christmas; your son helping your wrestle the turkey into the oven; the priceless stress of too many bodies in a small kitchen, trying to get Christmas dinner on the table; watching Little Miss Sunshine and Horton Hears a Who with your kids and parents; the next generation contributing to holiday meals; a call from your brother-in-law and his kids; hearing your husband's voice when you have to be separated on Christmas Day

 

 

Wednesday: electric blankets on cold mornings; road trips with your kids; flaming sunsets and kids who will snap photos for you while you drive; a table full of Christmas gifts from a friend who goes overboard at Christmas; Christmas cards and paychecks in the mailbox

Thursday: making a big dent in sorting, reorganizing, and cleaning your house; nibbles on things you posted on Craig's List; running for the first time in days; the aroma of a roast in the oven

Friday: time to answer emails and catch up on a few friends' blog posts; a clean bathroom(!); gathering with friends and future in-laws

 

Saturday: seeing the Great Blue Heron perched on a tree near your house for the 7th day in a row; a day of errands and shopping with your daughter and son; winter in Austin, where you can stay warm enough with just a long sleeve shirt and a hoodie jacket; sharing assorted Toblerone chocolates with your daughter

 

Love the moment, and the energy of that moment will spread beyond all boundaries.

Sr. Corita Kent

 

How is your Christmas going?

TG sits near me watching Rush Hour 2. I've been listening while editing photos from the past week, laughing because I've watched it with her often enough to see the scenes in my mind.

The Christmas tree sparkles between us. I won't take it down for a couple of weeks. That's when the Christmas season ends, according to the Catholic faith, and I'm glad I have that excuse since I procrastinated decorating for so long. I'm not tired of it yet.

I spent the day tackling other to-do's. Making phone calls to my parents' doctors, putting together a futon a friend gave us weeks ago, moving my drums downstairs so Tom doesn't trip on them in our bedroom anymore, working my way through piles of laundry, vacuuming, keeping a fire going in the wood-burning stove, photographing stuff we don't need and posting in on Craig's List, cooking dinner and feeding dogs. 

Once I felt I'd made a dent, I ran on the treadmill for the first time in, gosh, I can't even remember how long it's been, then I showered and called it a day. I poured a glass of wine and headed here to the computer, where (yay!) I already have a nibble on one of the items I posted.

I spent Christmas at my parents' with my kids, but without Tom who had to stay home and work on cars and be on call for his job. I don't like these years where I feel pulled in different directions. 

 I'm so grateful to our friends Mary Kay and Joe who made sure he had a more-than-decent Christmas dinner and sent him home laden down with gifts.

(Mary Kay goes crazy at Christmas. She can remember what every single one of her friends likes and/or collects, and when she shops, she keeps us all in mind. There's no way to stay even with her! I've learned to just be grateful...but I keep an eye out for ways to give back!)

In the past, this holiday celebration focused on the kids...first me and my siblings, then the grandbabies. This year we just brought gifts for Mama (pajamas) and Daddy (new jeans because he's getting so skinny his old pants don't fit!) They protested but I loved turning the tables on them like that. It's a good kind of pay-back, don't you think?

On Christmas Eve the kids and I went to Mass at the church where they were baptized. Afterwards, Tommy and I visited Hector and Estella next door and they sent us back to Mama's with a plate full of homemade tamales. It didn't stay full long!

 

The next day I rose early to get the turkey in the oven, then let the day amble wherever it wanted to go until the final scramble to get everything on the table at the same time. We watched movies as well as the black birds who visited the bird bath despite the gray cats dozing on the deck nearby.

The wind howled, and we lost power once, but we were grateful not to get any of the heavy rain or snow or tornadoes or long power outages that other parts of the country were getting.

 

 

My grandpuppy Josie found a favorite spot near the little Christmas tree Tommy brought with him. We set it up near the front window, where all the trees of the past stood, including that dang aluminum one, and the real one that sent me to the emergency room on Christmas Day night when I was ten.

Ah, Christmas memories...

We kept it a relatively healthy feast this year, with roasted vegetables and fresh green beans, thanks to my son and sister, instead of mashed potatoes and green bean casserole. I burned the bottoms of the rolls, but everyone forgave me and ate them anyway. For dessert we had monkey bread, courtesy of my niece. It was just enough.

All of it was just enough. I am blessed.

I hope you had - are having - a wonderful Christmas, too!

 

 

Why I Love "The Hobbit"

 

 

He was five, snuggled up close beside me on the loveseat for our ritual bedtime story, sucking his thumb.

"Are you sure?" I asked him. "There aren't any pictures in this book. Just a lot of words."

He nodded, so I opened the worn paperback and began reading...

"In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit."

Every night I'd quiz him on what we had read the time before, worried he was too young to understand, but he always knew every answer and wanted to continue.  Middle Earth had come alive for him, so night after night, chapter by chapter, we journeyed through it together. 

It was my second, maybe third, visit. My brother had introduced me to Tolkien and his hobbits almost two decades earlier and I became obsessed, buying ceramic statues of Bilbo and Gandalf, pewter wizards, and tiny castles. I had dragon bookends and calendars depicting beautiful Middle Earth-inspired artwork. I embraced my nerdiness.

It was the artwork that hooked my young son. He wanted to learn more about that beautiful, adventurous world.

I traveled there again with my younger two, and many years later we watched the Lord of the Rings movies together. So when I heard about The Hobbit movie, I crossed my fingers they would all agree to see it with me, once again journeying together into Middle Earth.

And they did. This past Sunday evening, my Christmas wish came true.

 

 

But sitting in that theater I got much more than my Christmas wish. Watching the movie, I was reminded of why I became a Tolkien nerd so many years ago and still want to share it with my kids.

There's the obvious...the adventure, the magic, the intricate world he draws us into. His genius still amazes me.

There's the theme of good versus evil...with good victorious, of course. And the characters, who forge friendships by focusing on commonalities rather than differences, a great lesson for all of us.

There's Bilbo's story itself, how he ventures out of his comfort zone and discovers strengths he never knew he possessed. Now I can identify with Bilbo even more. Like me, he is middle-aged, settled, comfortable, and doesn't believe there is anything special about himself ... but he sets out on an adventure anyway.

He sticks with it even when others doubt him, determined to help the dwarves even though he doesn't really know them. Compassion is the key to his bravery and loyalty. As Gandalf says...

  “I found it is the small things, everyday deeds of ordinary folk, that keeps the darkness at bay. Simple acts of kindness and love.” 

When you boil it all down, the elves and the magic and the battles between good and evil, that single message is what you're left with. It's the reason I love The Hobbit, and why I wanted my kids to know it and love it, too. Because even the smallest of us, the seemingly least remarkable, is capable of kindness and love to one another. And I do believe that is the greatest power of all.

 

 

 

Lighting a Candle

Thinking of those babies in Connecticut tonight, and their teachers. The families left in mourning.  

Thinking of the young man and how desperately sad he must have been...how full of despair and darkness...to do what he did.

Vowing to try harder to be a light in this world, instead of contributing to the darkness.

 

There will come a day...

 

There will come a day when I will want to dance, but my feet will stumble. 

So I will dance today.

There will come a day when I'll want to help, but my hands will fumble.

So I will help today.

There will come a day when I will want to say "I love you", but my voice will falter.

So I will say "I love you" today.

When You Know They're All Grown Up

 

You are the bows from which your children
as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, 
and He bends you with His might 
that His arrows may go swift and far.

~Kahlil Gibran

 

Several weeks ago I was nearing the end of my rope...more frustrated, worried, hurt, and angry than I've been in a long, long time because others I thought I could depend on proved unreliable.

My son Tommy stepped forward without being asked, driving from San Antonio to Houston in the middle of moving to a new apartment and wedding plans and a new job to take over the care of his grandmama so I could run home two days for an important job of my own. He handled it all with ease, even making calls to doctors to coordinate Daddy's discharge.

This mother's heart inside of me overflowed with relief, pride, and gratitude. I know he was motivated out of love for them as much as a desire to help me, but that makes me even more proud and grateful. 

Degrees and jobs are great, but the proof of adulthood is an honorable, dependable, giving-back heart, and I knew without a doubt that what I had worked for, hoped for, prayed for, all of his life had come true: my smart, sensitive, loving little boy had grown into a man without losing any of those qualities, despite this harsh, materialistic, self-serving world we live in.

Happy 27th birthday, Tommy. Today my heart is still overflowing with gratitude to you for coming to my rescue and to God for blessing me - trusting me - with motherhood, beginning with you. May your coming year overflow with love and blessings and wishes come true!

 

Sweet Relief

I almost didn't publish this post.

Late this afternoon my sister called me at work to let me know Daddy was heading to the hospital via ambulance again. Another suspected stroke. Even if I had the time to post my collected sweet!s of the week, it just didn't seem right when I had such a heavy heart.

I made plans to leave for Houston early in the morning... and then Brenda called again with news I hadn't even dared to hope for: Daddy had checked out just fine and was on his way back home. Hallelujah! Talk about answered prayers!

I gave Mama and Daddy time to get home and settled before calling them. Hearing Daddy's voice on the other line was the sweetest sound ever.

So now I'll share what I had thought was the biggest sweet! of the week... 

I went dancing last night!

It was our annual church Adult Christmas party where we're one of the youngest couples, there's enough space on the dance floor that we're not getting bumped and elbowed all the time, and there's a group of ladies who love to dance as much as I do, so poor Tom is off the hook. (One of them, a spitfire in her 70's, did a full body shimmy to Proud Mary that would rival Tina Turner's! I have so much to learn!)

I also wanted to share a great quote I came across earlier this week...

Great is the art of beginning, but greater is the art of ending.

~Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

 

I can't help but believe Longfellow wrote it with me and my writing in mind.

And now for a few more sweet! moments I collected this past week...

 

Saturday: watching Princess Bride for the one zillionth time with your kids

Sunday: a Sunday spent at home, not out of town or at work; sleeping in and going to late Mass for the first time in months; finally having time to dust and vacuum your filthy house; your kids hauling your boxes of Christmas decorations upstairs for you before they head back to their own places; a call from a dear friend

 

 

Monday: getting paid to hang out in a library all day; finishing up a project (well, almost); dredging up the willpower to work out after work; an email asking about using one of your photographs in a newsletter

Tuesday: seeing deer dash in front of you on your morning walk; your old puppy running after the deer; finally making it to a doctor after rescheduling twice; getting your flu shot; helping your daughter shop for a tacky sweater in an eclectic resale shop; finding an authentic Scottish wool kilt for only $10 in the same shop; joining your husband and most of your kids for happy hour at Double Dave's; grocery shopping with your daughter

 

 

Wednesday: moonlight splashing in your kitchen when you first get up;  watching the moon set on the horizon on a chilly morning; the shimmer of frost; finally shushing the negative voices in your head and making progress on your book; dreaming about winning the lottery

Thursday: morning walks three days in a row; getting started on your book easier; helping your parents get the paperwork together to dispute the penalty for filing for Medicare Pard D "late" (why is there even a penalty??); saying to heck with to-do lists and deadlines and meeting friends for dinner

Friday: working on your book before heading to work; helping four-year-olds pick out books for their Book Fair wish list; hugs from four-year-olds; a check for one of your photographs waiting for you in the mailbox; a husband who doesn't make fun of you for crying in a movie about aging dogs

Saturday: french toast, a la Tom; time for a morning walk before work; slow dancing with your husband; teaching others how to do the Cotton-Eyed-Joe 

Sunday: sunlight through stained glass; talking photography with customers; answered prayers; your daddy's voice; Christmas lights on your tree, thanks to your husband

 

I hope you are remembering to keep track of, and give thanks for, your sweet! moments!

Babies and other sweet things

My plan for today:

To clean this filthy house and, while I have 2/3 of my kids here to help, get all of the boxes of Christmas decorations upstairs and ready to unpack.

Instead:

I slept in, watched an episode of Rick Steves where he and his family travel to Europe at Christmastime, went for a walk with the puppies and Tom, ran on the treadmill, and spent the afternoon rocking and chatting (in baby-talk) with my great-niece, Kaitlyn Rose. Oh, and her parents, Lynn and Tom. Well, not in baby-talk with them. You know what I mean.

Then I ate a lot of pizza.

It's too late to clean house now, so I'll probably call it a day and watch a movie with Tom and the kids. There's always tomorrow...

I have no regrets. Rocking a baby is definitely much better than cleaning house. Especially one who is such a sweet little doll!

The last time I saw Katie Rose, way back in August, she looked like this...

Now look at her!

 

My, how babies grow!

And smell sweet. And feel so cuddly.

It's nice to be able to just rock and cuddle and coax smiles from babies and then pass them off for the feeding and changing. 

But it's pretty sweet watching new parents wound so tightly around a little baby finger, doing all those things with love.

And now for a few more sweet! moments from my past week...

 

Monday: a husband who will take your dad shopping for pants and to your uncle's funeral while you stay at home with your mom; your mom's sense of humor despite her situation; home health care workers; your dad's glasses coming in a week early; a request to use one of your photos again; safely arriving home after a long day trip to Houston

Tuesday: a day at home with your husband, even though you're each off doing your own stuff, and you only accomplish a fraction of what you needed to do; saying to heck with the rest of the stuff and watching a movie with your husband

Wednesday: dancing in the kitchen; a long morning walk through the autumn-dotted hills surrounding your Hollow with your husband and "puppies"; making progress on getting your mom in to see a doctor who might be able to help; no crowds at the grocery store on Thanksgiving Eve; 2/3 of your kids home; your husband bringing warm chocolate chip cookies to you when you're working; a sweet friend purchasing prints of some of your photos for her beach house

 

 

Thursday: no traffic on your early morning road trip; glimpses of trees and old barns through a morning fog;  a message from your son that he made it to his grandparents' house, safe and sound; holding hands with your family and giving thanks for each other; friends dropping in with sweet treats for your parents

 

 

Friday: your husband, parents, and all three kids under one roof with you; road trips with your adult kids; home, safe and sound; traveling to Ireland with your daughter, thanks to Rick Steves; laughing over a funny movie with 2/3 of your kids, just like old times; good advice and help from friends

Saturday: experiencing Christmas in Europe with your middle son, thanks to Rick Steves (again!); a morning walk with your puppies and husband; sons who clean bathrooms for you; meeting a brand-new Shallue in person; rocking a baby

 

Hope your week has been as sweet! and cuddly and entertaining as a baby!

Transitions

My Uncle Bobby passed away this week. Daddy's younger brother.

Like Daddy and the other men in his family, Uncle Bobby had suffered from heart and vascular problems for years, but it was a slow battle with cancer that took him away. He was a sweet man. In my heart I will always see him smiling, ready to laugh about something. 

That's him in the photo below, wearing my sister's wig, flanked by his son, Jeff, and yours truly, the Tomboy in ripped jeans. 

 

I'm grateful that I got to speak to Uncle Bobby a few times recently and assure him of my love and prayers. He called often to check on Daddy after his surgery. I'm glad they got to speak to each other, too.

Jeff stopped by my parents' house on my mom's birthday with a satchel full of old photo albums he'd found at his parents' house that had belonged to our aunt and grandmother. We opened them and stepped back into the years when we were oblivious to time.

When you're young, you can't imagine standing where your parents stand. You never dream that someday you'll be one of those pillars holding up the family, trying to help make decisions about things you had been happily oblivious to just months before.

 

 

Now time is tick, tick, ticking in my head. I feel the weight of it on my shoulders. I see, more than I ever did when I first became a mother, that circle of life, and I know that one day my kids will be taking my place as the pillars. 

But I remind myself that, if my kids are as blessed with oblivion as I have been, that time is still years away, and that I need to live each of these days, these years, to the fullest, just as my parents still do, to the best of their abilities.

I can't let the tick-ticking or the weight on my shoulders keep me from noticing blessings like cool old red trucks on display along the highway...

 

I pass Timeless Texas Classics on my way to and from Houston. Usually I travel too early or too late, and it's locked up. The old cars are tucked safely to bed up near the building.

But this past Wednesday the gate was open and these beauties were lined up close to the road. They smiled and waved at me, but I drove on by, in a hurry and too caught up in all I needed to do once I got home.

Then I realized the gift of the moment and made a U-turn. I spent several minutes walking up and down, snapping their photos, relishing that bit of suspended time.

Old cars and trucks make me smile - especially old trucks painted cherry red like the beauty above. And when you're a pillar - no, especially when you're a pillar - you need to do things that make you smile.

 

It really made me smile to hang out with a bunch of twenty-somethings that same night in honor of my soon-to-be daughter-in-law's 25th birthday. 

 

 

 

It was a little over six years ago when Tommy went to a friend's cousin's high school graduation party and fell in love. It's hard to believe Kirby was just eighteen when we first met her (and fell in love with her, too.)  

I love that all of my kids are living in Austin now, close enough to wish them happy birthdays in person.

 

Despite the challenges of the past few months, I'm still loving this season of my life.

I haven't been dancing as much as I'd like, but I can still dance. I can still walk down my dirt road and climb hills with my sweetie and puppies. I can hop in the car and meet friends for dinner... when we have time.

Time is the biggest challenge.

I haven't had time to finish my photography website or post new samples to sites where I can sell my photos or a dozen other things I need to do for my business, but this afternoon I get to photograph a beautiful family for the second year in a row. Last year the weather didn't cooperate and we had to take a few shots inside, so this year I'm going prepared with lights I borrowed from a friend, and I've been brushing up on how-to's of indoor portraits. Just in case.

I can still learn.

I'm also preparing for my writer's group meeting tomorrow evening. Thursday I was gloriously stranded at home alone for hours because Tom's car is out of commission and he needed mine to get to work so I spent them working on my children's book. Despite all that time, I barely eked out one short chapter, but I also overhauled my outline and fine tuned previous chapters, things I couldn't have done without several undistracted hours.

The next few chapters should come easier, and that's good, because I'm holding on to my goal of finishing my book by December 19, so I can submit it for critique before February's conference.

 

I hope whatever season of life you're in right now, you live it to its fullest. Let's make a pact not to waste a single moment of this sacred time we've been given... and especially the time we have with our loved ones.

 

 

Nothing in the world is permanent, and we're foolish when we ask anything to last, but surely we're still more foolish not to take delight in it while we have it.

~ W. Somerset Maugham

 

Lesson #81 (Thank You, and Happy Birthday, Mama!)

Today is Mama's 81st birthday. I get to spend the whole day with her, and for that I am very, very grateful.

A few years ago, in honor of her 77th birthday, I started compiling a list of things she has taught me. Each year since then, on her birthday, I've added to it. 

I wish this year the lessons weren't so plain.

The past few months haven't been easy on her. Her legs went on strike and she spends most of her time in a wheelchair now.

After being so independent and active all of her life (chin-up champion of her elementary school, softball player, bowler, pregnant roof-climber when her 5-year-old son wouldn't come down, main caregiver of her 6-foot-tall adult quadriplegic son, square- and line-dancer, playmate of her grandkids) and being the one all of us depended on, physically and mentally, I can only imagine how frustrating it has to be for her now, unable to do even the simplest things without someone's help.

But, as usual, she's got a great attitude about it. She laughs more than she complains. She expresses appreciation for the help even as I'm sure, inside, she mourns her independence. And she still focuses on others more than herself.

This year my mother is teaching me grace.

(with a few of her grandkids at Daddy's birthday party last month.)

 Happy birthday, Mama, with much love and gratitude!

 

Things Mama has taught me...

1. it's never too late to learn something new
2. if you have a choice between laughter and tears, choose laughter.
3. don't let anyone mess with your babies!
4. only give advice when asked for it (I'm still working on that one)
5. pray every day
6. pray some more
7. reading a good book might not solve your problems, but it's a nice escape from them
8. bend but never break
9. some people are just takers
10. be nice whenever possible, but sometimes nice doesn't cut it
11. take care of family
12. we're all individuals - let your kids blossom into themselves, not "mini-me's"
13. be there
14. Johnny Weismuller is the best movie Tarzan
15. don't be in a rush to be older than you are - you're only going to be this age once in your life
16. if you like something, and you'll use it, and you can afford it, then buy it, or you'll regret it later
17. quality over quantity
18. never think "can't"
19. people will stand in line for a dead skunk if it's free
20. roll with the punches
21. have fun
22. laugh often
23. believe in yourself
24. don't let others change who you are
25. be honest
26. don't steal
27. forgive yourself
28. God loves me
29. don't judge
30. just do it!
31. inside matters more than outside
32. don't use God's name in vain
33. you can learn anything if you put your mind to it
34. you're never too old to dance
35. it's okay to ask for help
36. show appreciation and express gratitude
37. use my manners
38. consider the source
39. an office or position of authority should be respected, but the individual in that position has to earn your respect
40. sleep is good
41. take advantage of opportunities
42. keep your eyes open and your wits about you
43. people aren't always nice
44. things can't make you happy
45. use your imagination
46. just get started and the rest will be easy
47. don't be intimidated by anyone - we're all the same, all human, we all have strengths and weaknesses
48. you can love someone even if you don't like them
49. forgive but don't forget
50. learn from others' mistakes
51. there are times for being patient, and time for putting your foot down
52. speak up
53. stand up for what you believe in
54. admit your mistakes and expect others to do the same
55. persistance pays off
56. let your kids be kids
57. love unconditionally
58. take lots of pictures
59. kids grow up fast
60. your kids need a mother, not another friend
61. pets are family
62. help others
63. a sense of humor is essential for sanity and survival
64. if you look close enough, you can find something to love about everyone
65. coffee is good anytime
66. messes can be cleaned up
67. prayer works
68. God is strong all the time - let him carry you
69. if you say you're going to do something, do it
70. be nice to yourself in case no one else is
71. you have to show respect to get respect
72. girls are tough
73. don't put up with temper tantrums
74. listen to your body - doctors don't know everything
75. don't say everything you're thinking
76. asking questions is the best way to learn something
77. your babies are always your babies (and their babies are your babies, too!)
78. God is. 
79. Just listen. 
80. people are more important than things
    
81. there is a time to help others, and a time to let others help you

 

An Inadequate - but Sincere - Thank You to Veterans

"Lord, if your people need me, I will not refuse the work. Your will be done."

~St. Martin of Tours

 

 

My big brother Buster was headed to Viet Nam, saying his goodbyes, when I stood beside him in this photograph and smiled. I had no idea what was ahead of him. This was probably taken before his first tour of duty and so he had only a vague idea himself what to expect.

When he volunteered for his second tour, however, he knew full well what he was stepping into...but he did it anyway. 

 

 

My dad was in high school when the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor. He joined the Navy soon after high school graduation because his country was at war and "it was the thing to do." In the next twenty-two months he traveled a long way from Texas aboard the U.S.S. Geneva...to places like the Philippines, the Marshall Islands, China, Burma, Japan.

Before he turned twenty, he had seen cities that had been destroyed by war and piles of dead bodies waiting to be buried. 

A few years later, his little brother Bobby followed his lead and joined the Navy, and many years later, so did my brother Donnie and two nephews.

 

Pop, my wonderful father-in-law, missed out on World War II, but joined the Air Force in time for the Korean War. He worked base supply in Okinawa, supporting bombers flying missions to Korea...about 100 aircraft every day.

He re-enlisted, got married, and hopped around the globe...living in England, Germany, and over a year in Pakistan, separated from his family (the other heroes - Mom had 8 teenage and younger boys to deal with by herself!)...visiting a dozen other countries...eventually staying put for awhile in Maryland, working with NSA (and a second job at the bowling alley to make ends meet), until his retirement.

A lifetime of service and sacrifice for this country.

 

 

My husband Tom was raised in a military family. For him it was normal to move every few years to someplace completely different...by the time he was eight or nine years old, he had lived in three countries!

He grew up on a tight budget - hand-me-downs, powdered milk and only two cookies a day...period! And yet as soon as he could, he joined the service...the Coast Guard. Among other things, he helped rescue fisherman off the coast of Alaska.

Four of his brothers also joined the service (three career Air Force, just like their dad, and another Coast Guard) and the youngest joined the Army Reserves. Now the next generation is following in their footsteps: two Air Force and one Coast Guard...and even marrying other service members!

I think it's very fitting that Veterans Day shares November with Thanksgiving, a day when we slow down to remember and be grateful for things that we usually take for granted, because veterans, despite the sacrifices they make for all of us, probably don't even make it onto our Thanksgiving thank-you list.

That's how much most of us take them for granted - as well as the freedoms they protect for us. Even when our country isn't at war, they go where they are needed to unfamiliar places, away from extended family, often living on a minimum salary. To many, they are a symbol of war, not peace, and sadly become targets of derision, scorn, blame... and even violence, like the sad incident at Ft. Hood a few years ago.

They deserve to be thanked every day of the year. A friend of mine says that when he's in a restaurant and sees a man or woman in uniform, he secretly pays their bill. What a wonderful idea! I think more of us should go out of our way every day to show our appreciation, but I'm glad there is at least one special day where we shine a spotlight on them, remember their sacrifices and make clear our gratitude.

Thank you Daddy, Tom, Pop, Buster, Donnie, Uncle Bobby, Uncle Howard, Kenny, Steve, Joe, Robbie, John, Sheila, Michael, Tom, Lynn, Robbin, Evan...and all of the other Veterans, past and present, out there! Because of you, we're free to go about our daily lives, without a thought in the world to how much that freedom costs or how much you've given.

But let's hope we do remember the price, as well as those who, through their actions, say "Don't worry. I got this."

(If this sounds familiar, it's a re-post from last year and the year before and the year before, with just a few tweeks.)

Doodles and More

I opened the mailbox Friday morning on my way to work, expecting the usual foul contents - bills and junk mail. And there it was, sitting on top of the pile like a glittering jewel - a package containing a T-shirt from my artistic, doodling, blogging friend Cyndee Starr, aka She Who Doodles.

 

 

I can't remember how or when Cyndee and I first connected in the blog world, but I've been a fan of her art for awhile, following her projects on Eloise's Collage first, and then, as she honed her doodling skills, on She Who Doodles.

When I gushed over her T-shirts, she offered to send me one. Of course, I said yes!! You can see why!

Mine is hand-doodled, but she has had such a demand for them, she is having her original designs screenprinted onto shirts. They'll be offered on her Etsy shop soon, so you, too, can have a shirt by Cyndee...er, that is, by She Who Doodles!

 

Thank you again, Cyndee!! Please remember me when you're famous!

 

Finding that shirt in my mailbox was a sweet! moment for sure, and here are a few more from the past few days...

 

Tuesday: an outside lunch with friends, on a patio perched in the trees; casting my vote in an important election; birthday parties; meeting the deadline on an article 

Wednesday: April, the Methodist Hospital follow-up nurse calling with information about house-call-making doctors for your parents; getting caught up on email; meeting a friend downtown for a glass of wine and window shopping for a good cause

Thursday: sleeping in; your puppy's exuberance at the sight of you; making progress on procrastinated projects

 

 

 

 

 

Friday: the sunrise through your home office window; packages in your mailbox; artistic friends; writings by middle-schoolers; spending most of your day in a library; getting paid to watch the opening scenes of Star Wars; a movie night with your sweetie (especially when the movie features Russell Crowe!)

Saturday: a morning walk with your husband before heading to work; surviving a dizzy-busy, stressful day without screaming out loud once

 

 

 

I'm heading back to my parents' after work tomorrow, to take Daddy to a follow-up doctor's appointment and celebrate Mama's 81st birthday.

My insides are starting to get a little wobbly from all the time on the road, the unfinished business, loose ends, deadlines, and dangling promises I know are waiting impatiently for me at home...not to mention being away from Tom so much. 

But I'm grateful to be able to go and help, to be able to celebrate my wonderful mother.

I hope you have a wonderful week full of love and celebration as well!

 

 

 

 

My Village

Summer and autumn traded places while I was gone. The purple flowers have faded, and the splashes of gold have moved from the blossoms that used to line the road up to the trees.

It's amazing the change a few days can make.

 

“Friends show their love in times of trouble.” ~ Euripes

I drove home from my parents Friday afternoon. I was scheduled to work Saturday and Sunday... plus I missed Tom, the puppies, my bed, my dirt road, the sound and smell of the woods...

Still, it was tough leaving, especially after spending the previous night in the Emergency Room. Mama fell in the bathroom around 1 in the morning, whacking her head hard enough on the floor to bring up an instant bruise, huge and purple as a plum.

Hallelujah, she passed the catscan, X-rays, blood and urine tests, and I drove us all home just as the sun rose red on the horizon. While they slept, I got her prescriptions filled and gathered my things, then before leaving, sat with Mama to fill out and submit applications for Medicare Part D, which covers prescriptions. I found out from the pharmacist that Daddy hasn't been getting a lot of his meds filled. When I asked Daddy about it, he said they were too expensive.

(Of course, Daddy doesn't think they're necessary, anyway, and that not taking them has nothing to do with the recent blockage in his carotid artery. I disagree.)

Anyway, by the time I crawled into my own bed Friday evening, I had somehow been up for 36 hours, running on nervous energy and a few cups of coffee, my mind in a whirl, wondering and worrying about leaving Mama and Daddy there alone. 

It helped knowing my sweet sons were heading the opposite way in the morning, planning to spend the weekend with their grandparents. Tommy took my dad grocery shopping. (I had gone to the store several times, but only bought them healthy stuff, considering Daddy's diabetic and all. I didn't ask what they bought this time.)

And what a relief when my friend Rae called letting me know she had picked up Whataburgers for the whole crew Saturday evening, and again on Sunday, when another longtime friend Debbie and her mom dropped in on them with KFC. Debbie just lives around the corner from my parents and has urged them to call if they need anything at all.

My sister Brenda and her husband will also pick up groceries and run other errands as needed, and Brenda is working on filling out the Veteran's Administration Compensation forms. Plus home health care started today with a visit from a nurse.

Mama and Daddy's neighbors Hector and Estella have also stressed to call them or knock on their door if they need anything at all, and they've been dropping food off for my parents for years now.

Sigh. Such a relief!

It's still tough being so far away. We've tried for years to get them to move closer, and have now started trying to persuade them to move in with us, but no luck, and I don't anticipate them changing their minds.

So knowing all of these wonderful people are close, holding hands around them, ready to catch them if they fall...well, there are really no words to express how much that means to me and the peace of mind it gives. 

It's beyond sweet!, that's for sure.

Best friends are those who make your problems their problems so you don't have to go through them alone.

~ unknown 

I hope I'm that kind of friend.

And now for a few sweet!s from the past week... 

 

Sunday: the full moon keeping you company on an evening drive to Houston; seeing your Daddy back home after a major surgery; your son letting you know he made it home safely, too; an email asking to share your photos of a Futuro Home

Monday: making progress on editing the photos from your latest photo shoot; plumbing fixes that are easy and inexpensive; taking care of things for your parents; a late afternoon walk around your old block

Tuesday: word from your relatives and friends on the east coast that they made it through Hurricane Sandy relatively okay; more progress on photo editing; sweet neighbors; hearing that your dad doesn't need cataract surgery yet

Wednesday: happy photography customers; running for the first time in two weeks; knowing exactly what to get your mom for an early birthday present; trick-or-treaters; a call from your son

Thursday: the smiling faces of friends dropping by to see you and your parents; finally getting your dad to follow his morning medication regimen; home health nurses; online bill paying from anywhere; watching Ellen with your mom; hearing your parents kiss goodnight 

Friday: angels who protect and cushion your mom when she falls so she isn't seriously injured; being there for your parents in an emergency; "character" patients you can listen to when you have to spend the night in the Emergency Room; staying wide awake for 36 hours so you can finish up tasks for your parents and still safely drive home, despite huge traffic jams; the autumn sun setting in the Texas Hill Country

Saturday: time for a walk with your husband and puppies before heading to work; friends who voluntarily drop in and bring food to your parents; sons who want to spend the weekend with their grandparents

Sunday: worshiping with your husband; working within view of a vineyard in the Texas Hill Country on an autumn day

Monday: sleeping in; a long morning walk with your puppies and your camera; finding one Mexican hat blooming near your pond, reluctant to let go of summer; a haircut and color by awesome Michael

 

 

Hope your coming week is full of sweet! moments!

P.S. Tom's youngest brother John has spent the last 2 days in Intensive Care with asthma. According to the last report, he was off the ventilator and able to breathe again, and on the verge of leaving ICU for a regular room.

Great news! But please keep him in your prayers. Besides being a great brother and brother-in-law, husband, dad to four, and godfather to TG, he's an awesome Phoenix policeman. Click HERE to see how he coaxed a confession from a murderer several years ago.

P.S.S. In case I don't get a chance to post this tomorrow...GO VOTE!

 

Small Stones from Methodist Hospital

Today is the first ever Mindful Writing Day, and I almost missed it.

Small Stones is a term used by Fiona Robyn, from Writing Our Way Home, to describe a moment when you stop, focus and really pay attention to one thing and write it down, using words that evoke the senses.

I began gathering my stones in Methodist Hospital last week, while waiting there with my mother during my dad's surgery. I'm not sure if I did it right, but in any case, these are a few stones I gathered to share. Others gathered today...more private...I've tucked away in my heart.

 

Low voices. Muffled laughter. Squeaks and rattles and hums of carts and curtains and beds. Seconds tick in slow motion. Nearness and life press into heart and memory.

Momma's breath, rising, falling in sleep. Curtain-filtered light softens the lines on her face so close to my own, erases the years to a time when she was the night watchman who guarded my slumber.

Hospital time, measured in tap-tap-taps of IV drips, a succession of television shows, and nurse visits. 

Purses and bags of hospital-waiting necessities dangle from above. Snacks, medicine, writing material, books. Daddy's street clothes rest in Mama's lap, wrapped in a clear bag. Excuse me, excuse me, and everyone smiles, opens doors, makes room for the pretty lady in the wheelchair and her klutzy driver.

 

Check out the other stones on Writing Our Way Home and on the Mindful Writing Day Facebook page. And join me in the Rivers of Stone Challenge this January - write one stone every day. 

 

"Pay more attention and fall in love with the world." ~ Fiona Robyn

 

 

 

 

 

 

Good (Halloween) Morning

I might see some trick-or-treaters this evening. I'm excited about that.

When you live a mile down a dirt road in a Hollow of few houses and no small children, Halloween is like any other night. Quiet. No one ever comes to your door. Even when my kids were actively hustling for candy, I had to drive them from house to house, or at least to another neighborhood where they could walk door-to-door.

But I'm still here at Mama and Daddy's, in my old neighborhood of side-by-side wood-shingled houses connected by sidewalks perfect for the travels of little goblins and princesses. I plan to sit near the front door with my camera handy. And, of course, a bowl of candy.

I was supposed to be heading home this morning, but, as often happens in life, things didn't work out the way we thought they would. Home healthcare wasn't in place when Daddy was discharged and I can't leave until it is.

My sister has that wheel turning now, working with the doctor's office and an agency, and fingers-crossed it'll be in place Friday so I can get home in time to work this weekend.

But flexibility is my word right now. 

Transitions are tough, and I sympathize with  Daddy's frustration over his new medicines and changes in his morning routine: Take blood pressure. If it's above this, take this pill. If it's above that, take another. Also take two others that have long multi-syllable names that sound alike and even I can't pronounce. Wait an hour. Eat. Take another handful of pills with similar names.

One day, God willing I live thirty more years, it will be me frustrated over my rebellious body and doctors and prescriptions.

I'm going through my own transition right now, missing my morning routine of a walk with the puppies. I miss working on my book, editing and posting photos to sell. I miss sweating and pushing my body through those work-outs I had come to dread.

Daddy feels great...and not-so-great. His medicine has side-effects, apparently. He has no restrictions except driving and lifting, so he's trying to do everything else he did before...wheeling Mama from room to room, getting her nebulizer medicine ready, feeding the cats, sweeping.

Except for carrying the full laundry basket and lifting the wheelchair and anything else over 10 pounds, I let him, while I focus on phone calls: the plumber, making follow-up appointments, getting his prescriptions filled, talking to pharmacists and nurses about them, and writing up a schedule to make it easier for him to keep track of it all. Today I'm going to try to organize a cabinet or counter to keep it all handy and organized.

One scary moment yesterday: The pharmacy wrote the complete opposite instructions on one of his blood pressure medicines than what I had been told by the nurse. I called the pharmacy and they said "Oops!" What if I hadn't spotted it? 'Oops' is an understatement.

No, I won't go there. I know I can't stay here indefinitely.

I can only do what I can do today, and I don't want to miss the precious moments of the here and now, which include spending time with my parents and handing out Halloween candy... and remembering a time, not so long ago, when it was my own little Power Rangers (and goblins and pirates and cowboys and snow leopards and wizards and ninjas and skeletons and devils and bunnies...) who knocked on that very door, calling "Trick or Treat" to their delighted grandparents. 

 

 Happy Halloween!!

Those of you on the east coast affected by Sandy are in my prayers!

A Week of Blessings

This is the way I remember it:

Tom and I were driving down the highway, headed to Houston's Methodist Hospital for the first time, because Daddy was about to have surgery for an abdominal aneurism. I was pregnant with my first baby and worried about Daddy.  I was praying, praying, praying...

...and then I was crying, crying, crying, because Bread's Everything I Own came on the radio. I was afraid my baby would never know its grandfather. I was afraid I wouldn't have my Daddy to hug and laugh with anymore.

"Is there someone you know,
you're loving them so,
but taking them all for granted.
You may lose them one day,
someone takes them away,
and they don't hear the words you long to say."

I was afraid.

But Daddy made it through that surgery, hallelujah, and the next and the next and the next... you name a surgery on the body's cardiovascular system and he's had it at least once, with a few strokes and seizures in between. I've lost count.

He always bounces back, strong and vigorous, and except for all of the scars, you'd never know he's had so much go wrong inside. 

This latest was his fourth carotid artery surgery - he's had two on each side. I wonder if that's a record?

His mini-stroke on his birthday weekend was from a slight blockage in the left carotid, but in the follow-up arteriogram this past Tuesday, the doctors saw that his right carotid was about 95% blocked and required immediate surgery. The left one could wait.

During the actual surgery they discovered it was closer to 98% blocked, plus the old graft had weakened and an aneurism had developed. A ticking time bomb in my Daddy's neck.

I'm happy to report the doctors were able to diffuse the bomb. Daddy made it through yet another surgery, just fine, this past Thursday. I spent several days there, taking over his role as my mom's caregiver, making sure she was able to be at his side every day.

I tell you, there's nothing sweeter than helping your mom stand up to give your dad a kiss in his hospital bed, seeing the love shining in their eyes as they lean in for that touch and to say 'I love you' one more time.

I'll be headed back again to Houston this evening, after a big photography job my sweet friend Darla got for me. I also needed to come home to do laundry (I only went prepared for two nights), pay bills, and check on my baby girl who came down with pneumonia this week.

There were a few stressful, tearful, hurt and even angry hours when plans I thought I had in place for when I was gone crumbled. But I should have remembered the message on the penny in my pocket: "In God We Trust". Everything worked out, thanks to my sister, my niece, my parents' neighbors, and my son.

Yes, that same little boy who grew inside of me on my first trip to Methodist hospital, who perhaps sensed my tears and worry, not only got to spend lots of time with my mom and dad, but he headed down a highway himself yesterday from Austin to be there for his grandparents and ease my mind. 

Life is full of sweet blessings.

Here are a few others I noticed over the past week.

 

Monday: managing to miss the traffic jams in both Austin and Houston; arriving at your parents' house, safe and sound

Tuesday: helping your mom and dad; meeting interesting, kind people in the hospital; prayers from your friends; sleeping with your mom

Wednesday: helpful, caring people; laughter in a hospital; nurses 

Thursday: watching your parents kiss before your dad heads into surgery; eating omelettes with your mom after a long night sleeping in a chair; gospel singers serenading the ICU waiting room; a familiar, friendly face sitting beside you, lending support; your dad making it through surgery just fine; your baby girl who has pneumonia finally getting in to see a doctor and getting a prescription

Friday: seeing your dad sitting up in a chair beside his ICU bed, eating soup, and then getting released to a regular room; people who step in to help care for your parents when you have to leave, who understand caring for loved ones is a privelege and blessing, not a burden; a cup of hot coffee on a cold, late night drive 

Saturday: your metal roof bathed in moonlight and a wiggly puppy greeting you on the rock path leading to your front door after too many stressful days away; snuggling into the warmth of your sleeping husband; knowing your mom and dad are okay even though you aren't there taking care of them; your son stepping in to help care for his grandparents; your zoom lens back on your camera, good as new; bringing groceries to your sick baby girl and seeing with your own eyes that she's okay; reassurance from a nurse friend that your dad's hallucinations are normal after surgery; cyclops cookies, courtesy of your husband and middle son

Sunday: crisp, clean autumn mornings; attending Mass with your husband and son; your whole church praying for your dad

 

Thanks so much to all of you who lifted my Daddy in prayer this past week. Please continue to think of him and my mom as we deal with the next fews days and the transition back home. Also, please keep my baby girl in your prayers that she heals up from this bout of pneumonia.

I hope that even if you're going through tough, stressful times, you're still able to notice the sweet!s all around you. They're there, I promise.

Leaves for Leontien

 

I'm adding these leaves to a bouquet Nancy at A Rural Journal is gathering for fellow blogger Leontien at Four Leaf Clover Dairy , to show her she's in the hearts and minds of many.

Leontien is battling melanoma for the second time.

The leaves are budding from a tree near the creek we thought we'd lost in the drought. Just a reminder to Leontien and all of us to never give up hope.

Life is full of surprises.

Sending light and love your way, Leontien!

 

Walking on the Ceiling, and Other Buster Memories

Images of my oldest brother Buster have hovered in my mind today. Today is his birthday. He would have been 65. 

I wonder what he would have been like at 65? Would he have mellowed any at all? Probably not. He was too passionate, too creative, too energetic. 

I try to imagine his curly black hair faded to silver and wrinkles framing his mischievous eyes, but like a sand sketch, the image shifts and disappears, and in its place is the dark-haired Buster of my childhood, towering above me.

The following is a re-post from 2008, in honor of his birthday. 

 

Here's a rare picture of me with all of my siblings - Brenda's holding me, Donnie is lying behind us, and Buster, the big brother of us all, is on the right.   

Yesterday was Buster's birthday - it's hard for me to imagine he would have been sixty-one. It's hard for me to imagine I'm now older by more than a decade than he was in my last memory of him, when I stood beside him in the hospital, kissed him, told him I loved him, and told him good-bye. We knew he wouldn't be coming out of his coma. 

Even now I cry when I think of it. I can't imagine, don't want to imagine, how it feels to my parents, losing a child. 

In my earliest memories, Buster had already left home. There's a memory of us visiting him at his Army Boot Camp graduation in Louisiana, and one of him taking me to a carnival, where he won me a soapstone bank shaped like a cartoonish hound dog."Grumpy" is still with me, sitting high on a shelf in the livingroom, a reminder that my big brother loved me and spoiled me. 

On his visits home, he doted on me...a trail of small footprints meandered across the ceilings in our house because minutes after coming through the door he would comply with my demands to "Walk me on the ceiling!" He would grab me, flip me upside down and hold me up (giggling and squealing) so that I could walk in that imaginary topsy-turvy world.  

Mama says he was crazy about me when I was a baby...he would even wash the styling grease out his hair so I could play with his dark brown curls. I can't remember that, but I do remember sitting on the front row of his wedding, crying. I must have sensed that things would change between us.

Through most of my life he was in the background, a shadow...Buster was busy with his adult life and I was busy with my childhood and they rarely intersected. He became a father and I loved being an aunt. He went to Viet Nam - twice - and we hung a map up on the hallway wall, keeping track of his whereabouts with pushpins.

He divorced and gave up custody of his son, and I didn't understand.

Our lives collided again just before Christmas in 1973. I was watching television in the darkened livingroom, the colored lights on the Christmas tree splashing a kaleidoscope on the walls, when the phone rang. I heard Mam-ma, my grandmother, talking, then her silhouette appeared framed in the doorway. "Buster's been shot." 

I remember Brenda and I pulling in to the dark parking lot of Houston's Ben Taub Hospital, rushing through the glaring white halls, dodging solemn faces overflowing from the waiting rooms, just in time to see Buster, his body bruised and bloody, being wheeled in on a gurney. He disappeared through the white double doors of the operating room.

Mama refused to leave the hospital for ten days, until she knew he was going to make it. She slept in stolen snatches on a hard wooden bench in the lobby. Daddy brought her fresh clothes and she washed up in the ladies' room.

My once tall, muscular big brother was now a quadriplegic. He came home from Viet Nam only to be shot in a bar just outside of Houston. One of the bullets severed his spinal cord.

Over the next few years he was in and out of hospitals...he attended the University of Texas and then Victoria College, getting a degree in business...he started a guard dog business and learned to drive with hand controls...he wrote poetry and loved debating with his friends about religion and what ever else got them stirred up.

He could be moody, unpredictable, and gripped by bouts of depression - just like me, a teenager during those years, too consumed with my own life to pay close attention to what was going on in his.

We didn't get along very well. He loved to tease me and embarrass my boyfriends. Except Tom...Tom just let it roll off of him.

Just before his thirty-fourth birthday, Buster went in the hospital for surgery. The next day he went into the coma. Within a few days, he was gone and I realized how much I loved him, and how much I would miss him. I wished I had told him I loved him more often when I had the chance.

Not long after his death, I woke to find him standing in my room. Standing. We didn't speak. Perhaps it was a dream, but it doesn't matter...in my heart I knew he was sending me a message because he knew I loved him and would want to know that he was once again tall and strong, healthy and whole, just like he was in my childhood.

 

Love you, Buster, and happy birthday!