Caleb has a journal that he writes in almost every day at school. Normally, they also draw a picture. Most days, he uses his pencil and then colors the picture. He brought home his first semester journal right before Christmas. He had written about many different topics and know, these things are all written and spelled according to his limited spelling and phonics abilities. Some of them are quite comical but back in September, he recorded two important life events that were not comical.
9-21-2015 I wate to the frunrl home. My dads dad.
Then, on 9-28-2015, I went to the plas that thay barey papel.
For those of you who can't read and decipher second grade phonics, let me translate.
I went to the funeral home. My dad's dad.
I went to the place that they bury people.
These are sad little entries but what I found really sad was the pictures he drew to go with them. They were all in pencil - no color - just white paper with gray pencil marks and hard lines.
When I told my friend Lisa about his drawings, she said, "On those days there is no color...just sadness." This brings me to the point of this little mini blog post - why I hate January and how I plan to overcome it.
In northeast Texas, when we start to decorate for Christmas, the trees are usually still wearing their leaves. Lights and trees and decorations go up and I am surrounded by brightness and sparkles and color and are so busy we can barely breathe. Then sometime while we are enjoying the fifth playing of the Grinch or Christmas Vacation, the trees let go of their leaves and seem to turn a grayish color. After Christmas, the lights come down, the momentum stops and to me it feels like the whole world has turned gray. I feel like Caleb's pictures. By January, the cold weather has set in and that, the lack of sunshine, and the gray trees leave me incredibly down. This year, I have resolved that things will be different.
"Finally brethren, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things." Philippians 4:8
This January, I will chose to focus on what is good. I will look for things to be thankful for and things I can do to help others be thankful. I believe that what we focus on is what becomes largest in our lives. I will get through January by focusing on joy where ever I can find it.
Wednesday, October 12, 2016
Thursday, September 11, 2014
9/11
I haven't blogged anything in a long time. It's not that I don't think about it or want to, I think about it almost daily. I just struggle to find the time. The truth is, I love to write. There is something wonderful about
taking a word and stringing it with another couple of words to paint a
picture for someone, evoke a feeling, make someone think differntly or make them laugh. There are many, many things I think about everyday that I would like to share with world but I just get busy. I am one of those people whose mind works a little like an Ellen DeGeneres monologue. If you have never watched her, the monologue is very fast and random with thoughts and ideas coming in quick blurbs that seem to tumble out of her mouth and then ends with music starting and Ellen breaking into a dance move. My mind works like that and now, since I haven't shared those thoughts, I suppose many of them are lost.
But then, today is a day for loss isn't it? We all lost something today, and many seemed to have lost everything. Like most of you, I remember what I was doing on 9/11. I can even remember the events from the day before. On September 10th, Russell's grandmother was in the hospital having a pace maker put in and we went to Texarkana to see her. His Aunt Danita was there. Russell had broken off a tooth the weekend before (a front tooth) and had scheduled an appointment for as soon as the dentist could see him and Aunt NeNe joked and said she would tell the dentist it was an "emmer gency" said like only NeNe can say something. Josh pulled a tooth at the hospital - his first tooth and also a front tooth. We all laughed and joked about how they favored. We went by Lowe's for something and they had a wooden entertainment armoire on clearance. It had been a display and the store had finished one door so customers could see the potential in the piece and the rest was unfinished wood. It was a happy find for me. I am a big do-it-yourself-er (and cheap) and was tickled to have a new project.
The next morning, I carried Shelby and Josh to school and then started a cartoon for Taylor in her room. I turned on my music and started to sand. A little while later, my momma called. They owned Shockley's Service Center at the time and she called to ask if I was watching TV. I told her no and before I could even tell her about my new project, she said to turn it on. A customer had told them a plane had flown into one of the Twin Towers. That was before...before we knew it was on purpose, before the first tower fell, before we knew about the Pentagon and that sacred field in Pennsylvania. I sat with my eyes glued to the TV. I called my mother shortly after the first tower fell and was on the phone relaying information when the second one came down. I remember my knees going weak and I slumped down onto the couch...then I rolled off and onto my knees. How? How could this be happening in my country? I remember at first everyone thinking it must have been some computer malfunction in a plane or a control tower. Why would anyone want to hurt America or her people - especially innocent people? America where people come for opportunity and to make their dreams come true!
I worked on that armoire for the next few weeks and kept my eyes glued to the television. As a country, we not only lost lives that day, but we lost our security. There is a difference in feeling something and knowing it and we didn't just lose the feeling that those things didn't happen here, but the knowledge was gone. I also saw a country come together. I saw our political leaders stop pointing and blaming for a day or two and put their hands together in prayer. Everyone was hurting and no one wanted to be mean to anyone else. That makes we wonder...they say violence breeds more violence. Maybe that is true when measured on a smaller scale, but when that violence hit - so hard and affecting so many, for a minute, it seemed to suck the mean right out of us.
For me personally it changed my ability to look at everyone the same. Even though I was raised (mostly) in an all white community in a area where we have limited cultural diversity, I had never had a problem with labeling people by their skin. That's not to say that if I was describing a person who had just passed in a group of people that I wouldn't say "the black man instead of "the man in the blue shirt". I would use his color to identify the way he looked but not the person he was. I have never been one to stereotype a group. I don't think that any one group is lazy or dishonest or dumb or trying to convert us to whatever. People are people and you can't judge a book by its cover. I really liked learning about other people and what their world and culture was like. I have always said if I suddenly had a wealth of money, the only thing I would do differently was travel. I would see every piece of dirt I could and learn about its people. But after 9/11 and the events that have taken place, since then, I have struggled with that. I certainly don't think all Muslims want to kill us but I am uncertain of how to determine who does and who doesn't. I suppose that is the success of terrorism. It causes us to fear - both the things the we really should and the things we imagine we should. For me, the latter is worse because when my mind, however fast and funny and random, goes to a dark scary place, it is very dark and scary. The kind of place that makes me afraid of a young middle eastern (maybe not even Muslim) woman holding a baby in a Wal Mart. Yes, she seems an unlikely candidate, but don't they all? How can we not be afraid of everyone?
Let's travel back to the garden of Eden. We were not made for fear. In the garden, Eve didn't even seem to be scared of a talking serpent. (Here's another random thought: could all animals talk in the garden or just the serpent? Discuss among yourselves.) She nor Adam was afraid or ashamed until they ate the Fruit of the Knowledge of good and evil and their eyes were opened. That's what happened to me on 9/11. I was force fed the fruit. I was forced to open my eyes and see the good and evil. So now what do I do? Live in constant fear? What I can do is trust the Lord who says, "Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the LORD your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you" Deuteronomy 31:6. I have looked this scripture up in several translation of the Bible and the words are almost identical in every one of them. You see, for me, my freedom can be taken by fear. Fear can take my freedom to travel, my freedom to enjoy the differences I see in myself and others, my freedom to share my faith. But freedom can be restored by faith. Faith that this life is only temporary and my real home is somewhere else, faith that there are good people in every religion, race and walk of life, faith that faith alone can help me. So for today, with everything we have lost, I choose not to lose faith.
But then, today is a day for loss isn't it? We all lost something today, and many seemed to have lost everything. Like most of you, I remember what I was doing on 9/11. I can even remember the events from the day before. On September 10th, Russell's grandmother was in the hospital having a pace maker put in and we went to Texarkana to see her. His Aunt Danita was there. Russell had broken off a tooth the weekend before (a front tooth) and had scheduled an appointment for as soon as the dentist could see him and Aunt NeNe joked and said she would tell the dentist it was an "emmer gency" said like only NeNe can say something. Josh pulled a tooth at the hospital - his first tooth and also a front tooth. We all laughed and joked about how they favored. We went by Lowe's for something and they had a wooden entertainment armoire on clearance. It had been a display and the store had finished one door so customers could see the potential in the piece and the rest was unfinished wood. It was a happy find for me. I am a big do-it-yourself-er (and cheap) and was tickled to have a new project.
The next morning, I carried Shelby and Josh to school and then started a cartoon for Taylor in her room. I turned on my music and started to sand. A little while later, my momma called. They owned Shockley's Service Center at the time and she called to ask if I was watching TV. I told her no and before I could even tell her about my new project, she said to turn it on. A customer had told them a plane had flown into one of the Twin Towers. That was before...before we knew it was on purpose, before the first tower fell, before we knew about the Pentagon and that sacred field in Pennsylvania. I sat with my eyes glued to the TV. I called my mother shortly after the first tower fell and was on the phone relaying information when the second one came down. I remember my knees going weak and I slumped down onto the couch...then I rolled off and onto my knees. How? How could this be happening in my country? I remember at first everyone thinking it must have been some computer malfunction in a plane or a control tower. Why would anyone want to hurt America or her people - especially innocent people? America where people come for opportunity and to make their dreams come true!
I worked on that armoire for the next few weeks and kept my eyes glued to the television. As a country, we not only lost lives that day, but we lost our security. There is a difference in feeling something and knowing it and we didn't just lose the feeling that those things didn't happen here, but the knowledge was gone. I also saw a country come together. I saw our political leaders stop pointing and blaming for a day or two and put their hands together in prayer. Everyone was hurting and no one wanted to be mean to anyone else. That makes we wonder...they say violence breeds more violence. Maybe that is true when measured on a smaller scale, but when that violence hit - so hard and affecting so many, for a minute, it seemed to suck the mean right out of us.
For me personally it changed my ability to look at everyone the same. Even though I was raised (mostly) in an all white community in a area where we have limited cultural diversity, I had never had a problem with labeling people by their skin. That's not to say that if I was describing a person who had just passed in a group of people that I wouldn't say "the black man instead of "the man in the blue shirt". I would use his color to identify the way he looked but not the person he was. I have never been one to stereotype a group. I don't think that any one group is lazy or dishonest or dumb or trying to convert us to whatever. People are people and you can't judge a book by its cover. I really liked learning about other people and what their world and culture was like. I have always said if I suddenly had a wealth of money, the only thing I would do differently was travel. I would see every piece of dirt I could and learn about its people. But after 9/11 and the events that have taken place, since then, I have struggled with that. I certainly don't think all Muslims want to kill us but I am uncertain of how to determine who does and who doesn't. I suppose that is the success of terrorism. It causes us to fear - both the things the we really should and the things we imagine we should. For me, the latter is worse because when my mind, however fast and funny and random, goes to a dark scary place, it is very dark and scary. The kind of place that makes me afraid of a young middle eastern (maybe not even Muslim) woman holding a baby in a Wal Mart. Yes, she seems an unlikely candidate, but don't they all? How can we not be afraid of everyone?
Let's travel back to the garden of Eden. We were not made for fear. In the garden, Eve didn't even seem to be scared of a talking serpent. (Here's another random thought: could all animals talk in the garden or just the serpent? Discuss among yourselves.) She nor Adam was afraid or ashamed until they ate the Fruit of the Knowledge of good and evil and their eyes were opened. That's what happened to me on 9/11. I was force fed the fruit. I was forced to open my eyes and see the good and evil. So now what do I do? Live in constant fear? What I can do is trust the Lord who says, "Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the LORD your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you" Deuteronomy 31:6. I have looked this scripture up in several translation of the Bible and the words are almost identical in every one of them. You see, for me, my freedom can be taken by fear. Fear can take my freedom to travel, my freedom to enjoy the differences I see in myself and others, my freedom to share my faith. But freedom can be restored by faith. Faith that this life is only temporary and my real home is somewhere else, faith that there are good people in every religion, race and walk of life, faith that faith alone can help me. So for today, with everything we have lost, I choose not to lose faith.
Thursday, June 6, 2013
Tomorrow is another day
A few weeks ago, we replaced our field line. For anyone who doesn't live in a rural area, a field line is a line that goes out from the septic tank to handle household waste runoff when the septic tank is full. Most rural sewer systems have a field line. Apparently, some tree roots had grown into ours and were preventing it from draining the way it should. That caused what we in Northeast Texas call a loblolly and what other parts of the world call a cesspool.
Loblollies and cesspools are not sanitary and they don't smell too swell either. Besides that, the loblolly was right in front of a storage building that I want redone and this was impossible with the loblolly in place. So, we rented equipment and ran a new field line in the area between the house and the beauty shop. That means we dug a trench ranging from about 3 to 4 feet deep about 2 1/2 feet wide and 100 yards long with a hole about 6 feet deep at the end and lined it with a Weed X type fabric and filled it with gravel and new pipe and covered it back over with dirt. When I say we, I do mean we - just me and Russell. I take that part in the Bible about being a good help mate very seriously. So we worked like dogs and got it all done. No more loblolly, no more stink! Yay! Problem solved.
Fast forward to today.
Today, I had my in-laws scheduled for 9 o'clock for both of them to get hair cuts. At 9 this morning, it was coming a flood of not quite Biblical proportions, but it was RAINING. I was about to go out the front door and decided I would take off my cute sandals and put on a pair of old flip flops because whatever I had on was going to be soaked before I even got off the porch and my in-laws wouldn't be overly concerned about whether my shoes were cute or not. Of course, every one of the 5 or so umbrellas I own were in the car.
When they drove up, I threw a towel over my head and started toward the beauty shop. I stopped on my top front porch step and quickly surveyed the newly formed everglade -esque area between me and my shop and decided if I had a canoe or an inner tube, I could float to work. But, alas, it was just me and my flip flops which, my daughter, Taylor, informed me yesterday, were called Corky's. I had a fleeting thought that I would be OK because cork floats. (Insert giggle inside my own head. Yes, my mind really does work like that.) As I approached the newly dug field line, I realized the still fresh dirt had spread and was now too wide for me to step across. Since I didn't have an umbrella, I didn't want to spend the time walking to the end of the field line so I stopped for a moment and decided to step on the edge and hope I didn't sink too much. BAD IDEA! I sank up literally past my knees.
First leg to enter the mud. Bear in mind these only come down a little past my knees.
Second leg to enter the mud.
This sudden change in footing caused me to pitch forward and take a much smaller step than I normally would have and sent the upper part of my body forward with enough force that I had to put my hands out to catch myself. There I am standing in a deluge, knee deep in mud, hands on the ground in front of me. Soaking wet, I manage to pull my first foot free only to realize that my flip flop had remained in the quick sand like hole. It only took about 2 seconds to pull the other, also flip flopless, foot out. Corky's might float, but not to the top of very deep mud hole.
So why did I tell you all that? Partly because everyone needs at least one good laugh a day and because I'm sure you can relate. Sometimes life just seems to swarm on all of us. Sometimes it swarms in serious ways and sometimes in ways that make us laugh if we aren't afraid to laugh at ourselves. We get the loblolly taken care of and a thunderstorm hits and we are looking for our shoes. Don't get discouraged, tomorrow is another day full of possibilities. Tomorrow, I may still be barefooted, but maybe, just maybe, the sun will be shining.
He lifted me out of the slimy pit, out of the mud and mire; he set my feet on a rock and gave me a firm place to stand. Psalm 40:2
Loblollies and cesspools are not sanitary and they don't smell too swell either. Besides that, the loblolly was right in front of a storage building that I want redone and this was impossible with the loblolly in place. So, we rented equipment and ran a new field line in the area between the house and the beauty shop. That means we dug a trench ranging from about 3 to 4 feet deep about 2 1/2 feet wide and 100 yards long with a hole about 6 feet deep at the end and lined it with a Weed X type fabric and filled it with gravel and new pipe and covered it back over with dirt. When I say we, I do mean we - just me and Russell. I take that part in the Bible about being a good help mate very seriously. So we worked like dogs and got it all done. No more loblolly, no more stink! Yay! Problem solved.
Fast forward to today.
Today, I had my in-laws scheduled for 9 o'clock for both of them to get hair cuts. At 9 this morning, it was coming a flood of not quite Biblical proportions, but it was RAINING. I was about to go out the front door and decided I would take off my cute sandals and put on a pair of old flip flops because whatever I had on was going to be soaked before I even got off the porch and my in-laws wouldn't be overly concerned about whether my shoes were cute or not. Of course, every one of the 5 or so umbrellas I own were in the car.
When they drove up, I threw a towel over my head and started toward the beauty shop. I stopped on my top front porch step and quickly surveyed the newly formed everglade -esque area between me and my shop and decided if I had a canoe or an inner tube, I could float to work. But, alas, it was just me and my flip flops which, my daughter, Taylor, informed me yesterday, were called Corky's. I had a fleeting thought that I would be OK because cork floats. (Insert giggle inside my own head. Yes, my mind really does work like that.) As I approached the newly dug field line, I realized the still fresh dirt had spread and was now too wide for me to step across. Since I didn't have an umbrella, I didn't want to spend the time walking to the end of the field line so I stopped for a moment and decided to step on the edge and hope I didn't sink too much. BAD IDEA! I sank up literally past my knees.
First leg to enter the mud. Bear in mind these only come down a little past my knees.
This sudden change in footing caused me to pitch forward and take a much smaller step than I normally would have and sent the upper part of my body forward with enough force that I had to put my hands out to catch myself. There I am standing in a deluge, knee deep in mud, hands on the ground in front of me. Soaking wet, I manage to pull my first foot free only to realize that my flip flop had remained in the quick sand like hole. It only took about 2 seconds to pull the other, also flip flopless, foot out. Corky's might float, but not to the top of very deep mud hole.
So why did I tell you all that? Partly because everyone needs at least one good laugh a day and because I'm sure you can relate. Sometimes life just seems to swarm on all of us. Sometimes it swarms in serious ways and sometimes in ways that make us laugh if we aren't afraid to laugh at ourselves. We get the loblolly taken care of and a thunderstorm hits and we are looking for our shoes. Don't get discouraged, tomorrow is another day full of possibilities. Tomorrow, I may still be barefooted, but maybe, just maybe, the sun will be shining.
He lifted me out of the slimy pit, out of the mud and mire; he set my feet on a rock and gave me a firm place to stand. Psalm 40:2
Saturday, June 1, 2013
I can relate
Welcome to my very first blog! I'm not sure what to say. Imagine all of the whole Internet world just waiting on words to fly from my nimble little fingers and be found in a search by accident...kind of a lot of pressure for a first time blogger.
So what do I write about? I read one of those how to blog things that said you should choose a topic you are passionate and knowledgeable about but I don't think that will work for me. I cannot be expected to be passionate about the same thing all the time because I am way too random. Some days I am passionate about getting a craft project done and some days I am just passionate about getting through the day without ending up on the local news or committing some faux pas that would send my kids to therapy.
So, you may be asking why I would want to blog. I don't have anything really wise to say and I'm not an expert on any subject. I know a little about a lot of things but I don't know a lot about anything except raising kids. I have more experience at that than any sane person ever has.
I have two brothers who are much younger than I am.
From left to right: Me, David, and Cyrus
Here we are all grown up. This was a couple of Christmases ago and someone should have told me I was just a pair of goggles and a leather swim cap away from looking like Charles Lindbergh.
Anyway, I "helped raise" them as it is best described by myself and my parents. Don't misinterpret, my parents never prostituted me to get formula money and they never left me alone with them for weeks while they went on vacation, but I had to help a lot. I didn't have the mental scar inducing responsibilities that many young people today have with younger siblings, but I have been able to feed, clothe, diaper, bathe and soothe a baby in addition to being able to clean up all forms of bodily excretions without puking since before I could put my own hair in a ponytail.
David was born when I ten and he never slept. That kid could take a 20 minute nap and be awake for the next 25 hours. If he were born today, most parents would medicate him. When Daddy told me they were expecting Cy, I was devastated and told them had to find a new hobby. David and I shared a room and that kid NEVER slept. He finally slept all night the night Cy came home from the hospital. He was 19 months old and I swore I would never have children. But then, I went on to have 4 of my own.
After examining my credentials and experiences and what I could share with the world, I guess the only thing I am qualified to blog about is me and my life. No one is more passionate about that or knows more about it than I do.
So, why would you want to read a blog about my life? I am also a hairdresser which is, for many people, akin to a therapist or bartender only less educated and more sober. Putting a cutting cape on someone is like giving them a dose of truth serum. People won't lie about much when they are wearing a cutting cape. Most people are very honest about their struggles and because of this, I have discovered we are all the same. I can relate to some aspect of every life that sits in my chair and when we relate, we realize we aren't alone in whatever our struggle is. Some days we may laugh. Some days we may mourn. Some days we may discover the answer. Some days we may only find more questions. But in all of this, we will see how we relate.
So what do I write about? I read one of those how to blog things that said you should choose a topic you are passionate and knowledgeable about but I don't think that will work for me. I cannot be expected to be passionate about the same thing all the time because I am way too random. Some days I am passionate about getting a craft project done and some days I am just passionate about getting through the day without ending up on the local news or committing some faux pas that would send my kids to therapy.
So, you may be asking why I would want to blog. I don't have anything really wise to say and I'm not an expert on any subject. I know a little about a lot of things but I don't know a lot about anything except raising kids. I have more experience at that than any sane person ever has.
I have two brothers who are much younger than I am.
From left to right: Me, David, and Cyrus
Here we are all grown up. This was a couple of Christmases ago and someone should have told me I was just a pair of goggles and a leather swim cap away from looking like Charles Lindbergh.
Anyway, I "helped raise" them as it is best described by myself and my parents. Don't misinterpret, my parents never prostituted me to get formula money and they never left me alone with them for weeks while they went on vacation, but I had to help a lot. I didn't have the mental scar inducing responsibilities that many young people today have with younger siblings, but I have been able to feed, clothe, diaper, bathe and soothe a baby in addition to being able to clean up all forms of bodily excretions without puking since before I could put my own hair in a ponytail.
From left to right: Joshua, Me, Garrett (our son-in-law), Shelby, Taylor and Caleb (in front)
So, why would you want to read a blog about my life? I am also a hairdresser which is, for many people, akin to a therapist or bartender only less educated and more sober. Putting a cutting cape on someone is like giving them a dose of truth serum. People won't lie about much when they are wearing a cutting cape. Most people are very honest about their struggles and because of this, I have discovered we are all the same. I can relate to some aspect of every life that sits in my chair and when we relate, we realize we aren't alone in whatever our struggle is. Some days we may laugh. Some days we may mourn. Some days we may discover the answer. Some days we may only find more questions. But in all of this, we will see how we relate.
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