She'd always been the quiet type, very shy, but an excellent student. She was one of those annoying girls that when she did open her mouth, it was usually correct someone's grammar. Her family had moved 3 times in 3 years and she hoped that she would finally make some more friends in Junior High School.
At the end of sixth grade, she'd learned a lot of things. You didn't win popularity contests by pointing out grammar mistakes. In fact, those with the poorest grammar seemed to have lots of friends. Her school was sometimes a scary place. There were some very mean girls who threatened her regularly. How was she ever going to fit in?
That summer a new family moved in just a few doors down. They had a girl who was just 1 year older. Her name was Barb. This family wasn't like any she'd met before. Lots of people of all ages lived at this house. She found out the mom had been married 4 times and most of those living in the house were brothers and sisters from all different dads. Barb's older siblings often had boyfriends of girlfriends spending the night. She wasn't always comfortable at Barb's house, but she was intrigued with the all that went on, especially the parties that they hosted.
She noticed her friend Barb didn't have perfect grammar, but instead of correcting her, she decided to learn from her. She spent the entire summer learning slang and cute deviations of grammar that she knew would make her teachers cringe. And if used correctly, she could enjoy the laughter from other kids when she spoke inappropriately. This would surely win her some friends.
At the same time, the girl was attending a Lutheran Church. She was at the required age for confirmation classes. A new Vicar was teaching the Wednesday night class. One night he just could not take the antics of the kids any longer. He damned them all to hell and walked out on them. The group of seventh graders sat in stunned silence. Some of the rebels snickered. The girl had a hard time believing a grown adult would completely lose his composure and scream something like that at a bunch of kids. Sure the kids had pushed the limits, but weren't adults more mature than that?
She was under the misguided assumption that adults were intelligent, responsible, always did the right things. So this new world she was seeing was very confusing. Barbara's parents had parties, smoked, drank and even smoked pot. The girl began to wonder if her own parents just weren't aware of some things in life. Maybe these things weren't as bad as her parents said they were. Maybe it was just because they'd never tried them. Maybe that was it. Why else would adults party that way, or the Vicar scream at them that they were all damned to hell in a church???
The girl learned a lot in those few short years. She smoked her first cigarette and ditched school. She had her first beer at a church youth group function and got drunk for the first time. A lot happened before she ever started high school.
Friday, July 28, 2006
Thursday, July 20, 2006
Christmas In July
Growing up I looked forward to Christmas with great anticipation. By the time my parents were 24 and 25 years old, they had 4 children. It wasn't that they started any younger than others in their generation, but they did have 4 children in 4 1/2 years. (My mom likes to say 5.) Consequently, money was tight. I don't know how they managed, but Christmas at our house was magical.
Back then we didn't have gadgets and electronics to fill our time. We played with and enjoyed simple things. One of my favorite things was listening to music-especially while my dad played along on his steel guitar. It wasn't often, but sometimes he took me in his arms and we danced. I was not one of those little girls like my sister, who desired to take ballet and tap dances. No, I enjoyed dancing with a partner. One particular occasion my dad attempted to show me the foot moves of a dance. I'm sure being so young, I wasn't getting it at all. So he told me to just place my feet atop his black leather shoes so he could better show me. I placed my chubby bare feet atop his warm shoes and we glided and swung around the room. It was glorious!
After that, all I wanted to do was dance. For Christmas I asked for a big doll. Since I loved baby dolls my mom asked if that was what I wanted. No. I wanted a life-size doll, one as big as me so I could dance with her. Mom told me big dolls were very expensive and she doubted they actually made them that big. That didn't stop me from dreaming.
Christmas morning, as always, we were up before the sun. I think this was part of the magic. Walking out a bit bleary-eyed to where the Christmas tree lights sparkled and shined their glowing lights onto beautifully wrapped packages. There were always a few things left unwrapped that made it even more exciting. That morning as I rubbed my sleepy eyes I could hardly believe what I saw. Not only was there a stroller I'd long coveted, but sitting inside was a huge doll. I never thought that this gift might not be mine. I pulled the life-size doll from her chair and hugged her to my chest. My mom had lovingly made a doll nearly my size. She had blonde curls like mine made from brightly colored yarn. She wore a beautiful dress that I later found had a matching one made just for me. But the best part was that under her fabric shoes, my mom had sewn in loops of elastic.
I didn't wait to get dressed. I put my shoes on while wearing my pajamas, then slipped the elastic bands around them. My dolls feet rested perfectly atop my shoes the way mine had on my dad's. I wrapped my arms around her and we danced.
Back then we didn't have gadgets and electronics to fill our time. We played with and enjoyed simple things. One of my favorite things was listening to music-especially while my dad played along on his steel guitar. It wasn't often, but sometimes he took me in his arms and we danced. I was not one of those little girls like my sister, who desired to take ballet and tap dances. No, I enjoyed dancing with a partner. One particular occasion my dad attempted to show me the foot moves of a dance. I'm sure being so young, I wasn't getting it at all. So he told me to just place my feet atop his black leather shoes so he could better show me. I placed my chubby bare feet atop his warm shoes and we glided and swung around the room. It was glorious!
After that, all I wanted to do was dance. For Christmas I asked for a big doll. Since I loved baby dolls my mom asked if that was what I wanted. No. I wanted a life-size doll, one as big as me so I could dance with her. Mom told me big dolls were very expensive and she doubted they actually made them that big. That didn't stop me from dreaming.
Christmas morning, as always, we were up before the sun. I think this was part of the magic. Walking out a bit bleary-eyed to where the Christmas tree lights sparkled and shined their glowing lights onto beautifully wrapped packages. There were always a few things left unwrapped that made it even more exciting. That morning as I rubbed my sleepy eyes I could hardly believe what I saw. Not only was there a stroller I'd long coveted, but sitting inside was a huge doll. I never thought that this gift might not be mine. I pulled the life-size doll from her chair and hugged her to my chest. My mom had lovingly made a doll nearly my size. She had blonde curls like mine made from brightly colored yarn. She wore a beautiful dress that I later found had a matching one made just for me. But the best part was that under her fabric shoes, my mom had sewn in loops of elastic.
I didn't wait to get dressed. I put my shoes on while wearing my pajamas, then slipped the elastic bands around them. My dolls feet rested perfectly atop my shoes the way mine had on my dad's. I wrapped my arms around her and we danced.
Sunday, July 16, 2006
Attitude
I'm trying to have a good attitude, really I am. We arrived home late last night after an exhausting week in the Arizona Desert. Ok, we weren't camping out or anything, but I found it quite unpleasant driving across town in the middle of the day when it was 117 degrees. There was no such thing as sleeping in as it just gets too warm in the morning. I was so happy to crawl into my own bed last night.
I was awakened by an expected commotion. I tried to open my heavy eyelids, but no luck. The light was too bright. I lay quiet, hoping it would be dark again and the rustling around would be stilled. My darling husband finally informed me of the misfortune of my first morning home. Our bedroom shower was leaking. He had completely emptied the closet behind it, cut open the wall to get at the leak only to find it was a bigger problem. My ever-efficient man had already phoned a plumber that would be here within the hour. Not only did I have to get out of bed and dress before showering, I have yet to brush my teeth. I've been sitting here several hours feeling completely undone. The water is shut off so I can't even flush a toilet. It is Sunday and without water there is no way I can make myself presentable to attend church. (Sigh) This is one day I'm glad my girls are not awake yet. It was difficult enough on vacation for 5 females to share a small bathroom, but to have no bathroom to share is worse. If there wasn't a strange man in my bedroom, I'd crawl back in bed.
I was awakened by an expected commotion. I tried to open my heavy eyelids, but no luck. The light was too bright. I lay quiet, hoping it would be dark again and the rustling around would be stilled. My darling husband finally informed me of the misfortune of my first morning home. Our bedroom shower was leaking. He had completely emptied the closet behind it, cut open the wall to get at the leak only to find it was a bigger problem. My ever-efficient man had already phoned a plumber that would be here within the hour. Not only did I have to get out of bed and dress before showering, I have yet to brush my teeth. I've been sitting here several hours feeling completely undone. The water is shut off so I can't even flush a toilet. It is Sunday and without water there is no way I can make myself presentable to attend church. (Sigh) This is one day I'm glad my girls are not awake yet. It was difficult enough on vacation for 5 females to share a small bathroom, but to have no bathroom to share is worse. If there wasn't a strange man in my bedroom, I'd crawl back in bed.
Saturday, July 08, 2006
Adventure
Off for an Adventure. We must be crazy. We are taking a week's "vacation" to the desert of Arizona. Yes, it is July and insanely hot. But I have a son turning 22, (taking my grandson who will turn 4,) parents and inlaws to see, sisters, brother, nieces & nephews to visit. It is just easier for us to pack up and go there as much as I'd love to have them all here. I think they'd love Colorado too.
Friday, July 07, 2006
Scents
I can't figure out how humidity in the air can change the way things smell. I awoke this morning earlier than usual. My coffee wasn't set to brew for another hour so I manually turned it on and went downstairs to put in a load of laundry. When I walked back into the kitchen it smelled like Gramma's home. I make coffee every morning, so how does a bit of extra moisture in the air change the way it smells?
Growing up in the hot desert of Arizona, I loved the times we'd go to California to visit Gramma. She would also say, "don't forget to bring your sweater" before we left, but we never did. (When it is 100 degrees at 10 o'clock at night, one cannot imagine needing a jacket anywhere within a days drive.)
Mom and Dad would load the car on a Friday night and we'd wake up early Saturday morning at Gramma's. The air felt so much cooler and I was told it was because of the humidity and breeze from the ocean. Aroused from my slumber by the thick aroma of coffee, I'd sneak out of bed to be the first to greet Gramma. I'd shiver after pulling the covers off, and want to hop back under the blanket. But the scent of coffee was too enticing. Gramma was in the next room.
Long before I ever thought about drinking coffee, it made an impression on me. Getting that first hug, sitting at the table watching as she sipped from delicate china cups, there was something so warm and inviting in that kitchen. The air seemed thick and heavy with that dark aroma, it surrounded you as if it you were wrapped in a blanket. The sunlight would stream in through the glass doors, creating added warmth. I loved being at Gramma's.
When I awoke this morning after last night's thunderstorms, the air was cool and had that same thickness about it. The coffee hung heavily in the cool, misty air as I walked through my kitchen. I was drawn in and melted into memories of Gramma's house. I sure do miss her.
Growing up in the hot desert of Arizona, I loved the times we'd go to California to visit Gramma. She would also say, "don't forget to bring your sweater" before we left, but we never did. (When it is 100 degrees at 10 o'clock at night, one cannot imagine needing a jacket anywhere within a days drive.)
Mom and Dad would load the car on a Friday night and we'd wake up early Saturday morning at Gramma's. The air felt so much cooler and I was told it was because of the humidity and breeze from the ocean. Aroused from my slumber by the thick aroma of coffee, I'd sneak out of bed to be the first to greet Gramma. I'd shiver after pulling the covers off, and want to hop back under the blanket. But the scent of coffee was too enticing. Gramma was in the next room.
Long before I ever thought about drinking coffee, it made an impression on me. Getting that first hug, sitting at the table watching as she sipped from delicate china cups, there was something so warm and inviting in that kitchen. The air seemed thick and heavy with that dark aroma, it surrounded you as if it you were wrapped in a blanket. The sunlight would stream in through the glass doors, creating added warmth. I loved being at Gramma's.
When I awoke this morning after last night's thunderstorms, the air was cool and had that same thickness about it. The coffee hung heavily in the cool, misty air as I walked through my kitchen. I was drawn in and melted into memories of Gramma's house. I sure do miss her.
Tuesday, July 04, 2006
God Bless America
God bless America,
Land that I love,
Stand beside her and guide her
Thru the night with a light from above;
From the mountains, to the prairies,
To the oceans white with foam,
God bless America,
My home, sweet home.
God bless America,
My home, sweet home
by Irving Berlin
I remember growing up and actually singing this song in school. (gasp) Yes, it was public school. But my favorite patriotic song was Battle Hymn of the Republic, or Mine Eyes Have Seen The Glory. This one I learned in Kindergarten. I didn't understand most of the words, but when it came to the chorus I clearly remember standing a little taller. I would sing a little louder. My feet would begin to take steps in place. I envisioned soldiers marching from battle singing praises to God. I felt strong. It was how I imagined David feeling after his battle with Goliath. I understood we lived in a free country, but it had been at a great price.
"Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! Glory! Glory! Hallelujah!
Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! Since God is marching on."
(If you want to see the complete lyrics and a bit of history, you can find them here.)
Land that I love,
Stand beside her and guide her
Thru the night with a light from above;
From the mountains, to the prairies,
To the oceans white with foam,
God bless America,
My home, sweet home.
God bless America,
My home, sweet home
by Irving Berlin
I remember growing up and actually singing this song in school. (gasp) Yes, it was public school. But my favorite patriotic song was Battle Hymn of the Republic, or Mine Eyes Have Seen The Glory. This one I learned in Kindergarten. I didn't understand most of the words, but when it came to the chorus I clearly remember standing a little taller. I would sing a little louder. My feet would begin to take steps in place. I envisioned soldiers marching from battle singing praises to God. I felt strong. It was how I imagined David feeling after his battle with Goliath. I understood we lived in a free country, but it had been at a great price.
"Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! Glory! Glory! Hallelujah!
Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! Since God is marching on."
(If you want to see the complete lyrics and a bit of history, you can find them here.)
Sunday, July 02, 2006
Another email I received from my oldest daughter:
I have a boy.
For sure.
E was outside playing. He came "running" inside and was jabbering away. He was showing me some dirt pinched between his thumb and forefinger.
I was like "oh wow!" then I carried on about my business.
After a minute E set the dirt on the counter. The dirt then began to squirm its mangled insect body across my countertop.
EEEEEEEW!
I squished what was left of the bug in a paper towel and threw it in the trash.
I started to walk away but then E started yelling so I turned around to see him pulling everything out of the trash, looking for his bug.
I have a boy.
For sure.
E was outside playing. He came "running" inside and was jabbering away. He was showing me some dirt pinched between his thumb and forefinger.
I was like "oh wow!" then I carried on about my business.
After a minute E set the dirt on the counter. The dirt then began to squirm its mangled insect body across my countertop.
EEEEEEEW!
I squished what was left of the bug in a paper towel and threw it in the trash.
I started to walk away but then E started yelling so I turned around to see him pulling everything out of the trash, looking for his bug.
Saturday, July 01, 2006
Love
After I wrote Sarabeth's Happy 17th Birthday post, I received this email:
I don't know what led me to read your blog, I was bored, sitting here, nothing else to do. I smiled when I saw my picture there and "Happy 17th Birthday Sarabeth!" Then I got to reading. I've heard all of that before, that I was the velcro baby and everybody tried to help you. But something struck me differently this time, it actually made me cry. I'm thanking God as much as you, right now, for giving me to you because I don't think anybody else in this world would have treated me the same way, with the same loving patience as you did, and you still do. I hope, one day, I can be like you, with enough faith and perseverance to keep moving forward and overcome any task set ahead of me. I've been told that I'm a good writer and should keep that up, but I hope that I can write like you do, with the ability to touch people so strongly that it changes their life forever. And thank you for always being there for me and giving me the courage to press on. Without your unconditional love I know I wouldn't be half the person I am today. Thank you so much. I love you.
-Sarabeth
It is an expression like this that makes the tough years all worthwhile, the long sleepless nights, the tears, the prayers, and the stress. So if you are a parent to young children, or even young teens and wonder if you are making a difference at all, you are.
(P.S. Took Sarabeth to the airport this morning. At the moment she is on a plane flying towards her destination for the next 3.5 weeks. I will miss her but am thankful for today's technology and the ability to keep in close contact.)
I don't know what led me to read your blog, I was bored, sitting here, nothing else to do. I smiled when I saw my picture there and "Happy 17th Birthday Sarabeth!" Then I got to reading. I've heard all of that before, that I was the velcro baby and everybody tried to help you. But something struck me differently this time, it actually made me cry. I'm thanking God as much as you, right now, for giving me to you because I don't think anybody else in this world would have treated me the same way, with the same loving patience as you did, and you still do. I hope, one day, I can be like you, with enough faith and perseverance to keep moving forward and overcome any task set ahead of me. I've been told that I'm a good writer and should keep that up, but I hope that I can write like you do, with the ability to touch people so strongly that it changes their life forever. And thank you for always being there for me and giving me the courage to press on. Without your unconditional love I know I wouldn't be half the person I am today. Thank you so much. I love you.
-Sarabeth
It is an expression like this that makes the tough years all worthwhile, the long sleepless nights, the tears, the prayers, and the stress. So if you are a parent to young children, or even young teens and wonder if you are making a difference at all, you are.
(P.S. Took Sarabeth to the airport this morning. At the moment she is on a plane flying towards her destination for the next 3.5 weeks. I will miss her but am thankful for today's technology and the ability to keep in close contact.)
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