Happy 21st Elisabeth

A little girl, who loved ribbons and bows and is still as cute as ever, turned 21. As I began to write a Happy Birthday Post, I found myself writing much of what I wrote for her 20th, so thought I'd cut and paste a part of that here.

It's hard to believe you've closed the door to your teen years. What happened to my little Gerber baby with the infectious smile?
Very quickly, that baby turned into a laughing, forever-singing toddler. You loved singing and entertaining anyone who'd pay attention. There was no such thing as a stranger. You welcomed everyone into your world.

Remember how you'd play dress-up for hours and hours? Or making tea and crumpets with your kitchen set? Your golden brown hair, pulled up in crooked pigtails, would bounce as you "cooked." You'd talk and talk in your singsong voice as you'd offer freshly baked cookies.
I remember a girl in second grade who wanted to be a cheerleader. You went to cheer camp and performed at a high school basketball game. Two ladies in front of me saw you amidst the sea of girls and couldn't get over how cute you were. I wanted to say, "that's my girl!" But before I could you waved and curtsied my direction and they thought you were waving to them and they waved back. You brought out the best in others. It wasn't but 7 or 8 years later that you were in high school drawing the crowd to their feet.

It was hard to see you move out this year. I'm thankful that your residence is a mere 20 minutes away. I love that you come home for dinner several nights a week. You are still the same sweet, caring sister and daughter as before, but you are wiser and more mature. I didn't realize turning 21 would be such a transformation. You'll always be my little girl, even though you are all grown up.

This was taken on a cell phone and goes by very fast. I didn't quite capture the first couple of seconds. Hope you get the idea of my crazy kids antics.

Time Flies When You're Having Fun

Let's see if I can quit having so much fun and get back in the swing of things. Last week Christina was sick, so I picked Ethan up and kept him for a few days. And his big dog. I had hoped Ethan wouldn't get sick, but he did. Suffice it to say, I was busy.

Paper bracelets. What do you think? I've decided they are an ideal accessory. I could have every color of the rainbow, add any design to match or coordinate with every single outfit I own. No more struggling with hard to do clasps. They are comfortable to wear. I can go to be without ever removing it. I can even shower while wearing. When it's time to change, I cut it off and put on a new one. These have to be cheap. Just think, I'd never have to worry about losing or damaging them either.

How cool are hand painted nail designs? I absolutely love them! I haven't mastered the art myself, but I figure if I had the proper tools. It is impossible to paint in fine detail without a tiny brush.

I wouldn't try to cut a large piece of meat with a paring knife or use a meat cleaver to slice a tomato.

With the correct tools and proper training, I could paint nail designs. But that wouldn't make me an artist.

Too often, I don't value the talents I have. I want to do or be something never intended for me. It is difficult to accept our weaknesses and sometimes even our strengths.

Growing up, I'd hear my mom telling others about us kids. She'd speak of our gifts and talents. The things she'd brag to others about me didn't seem that big of a deal because they came easy to me. I wanted to be like my sister. Mom would talk about her dancing ability, her social skills-things that didn't come naturally to me. They were a challenge for me, so they seemed like better gifts to have. I didn't realize she felt the same way and didn't see her talents as something special or unique to her. She wanted what I had.

Today's challenge: To appreciate the giftings of others and encourage them to seek after what they are passionate about. I want to express to them how valuable their particular gifting and talents are and how much I (and others) need them. But I will also value and appreciate everything that God has placed within me and try to use my talents and gifts for His glory.

Somebody is a good brownie baker/server

Making The World A Better Place

Lori at View From Our Porch gave me this award. Lori truly does make a difference in the lives of so many. Everyone needs to feel valued and special.

The rules are to link to Ukok's place, then pick 5 other bloggers to give this award to. I am giving it to everyone on my Links list, as each one of you have made a difference in my life. Please pass it along.

Pet Peeve

Pet Peeve: Cruising along the highway, doing the speed limit, when all of the sudden nothing but brake lights ahead. I slow down to under the speed limit. I wonder what could be causing the slow down. Up ahead, on the side of the road, is a patrol car. No lights, no accident, nothing. The car is just sitting there. Why is everyone braking? If these cars aren't speeding why the need to slow down? Guilt is my guess. They must be regular speeders who watch for police cars. I have never feared or felt guilty seeing a police or patrol car. My dad drove one.

Dad emailed me the rest of his 1970 Christmas letter. I wanted to share another portion here. Dad was 31 at the time, mom 30, I was 8. My siblings were ages 6, 9, and 11.

"Kathleen says the time has come for me to reveal what I've been up to the past year. Life seems to revolve around my work schedule, which can be day shift, night shift, and a combination of the two. I have been working on the road as a patrolman for the past 16 months. I never dreamed that I would ever get to work on the road. I always wanted to be a policeman, but when I didn't grow tall enough to meet the height requirements, I gave up the idea. Now, here I am working along with the six-footers. I may be the smallest patrolman on the highway patrol, but there are a few others not much bigger. We peewees are known as the mini-patrol.
Sometimes, I wonder why I ever left the cool/warm, depending
on the season, comfort of the radio room. While sitting
overlooking the Salt River Canyon, watching the river below,
and inhaling the cool, pine scented air, I am grateful for
having been liberated from the four walls. On winter nights,
while carrying an injured or dead person out of a canyon, I
wonder why I'm not back in that nice comfortable radio room,
sipping a cup of coffee between radio calls.

People tend to make my job interesting. You meet the good
and the bad. You meet them at their worst and their
best. You get to help them when they need help the most. The
disabled motorist is glad to see you, but the violator wishes you
were in some other county. I could go on about my job as I find it
fascinating, but I'm going to leave it here."

For anyone who might be a guilty-braker, thought it would be fun to read the thoughts of a patrolman.

I laughed at the next part of dad's letter:

"Being church treasurer keeps me busy a couple evenings per
month. I sometimes wonder how I ever managed to acquire the
job. Bookkeeping never was high on my list of aptitudes. The
congregation certainly must have a lot of faith."

Dad wrote more, but I figure that is enough for one post. It brought back such fond memories of my dad. He did mention special training he'd been doing for upcoming demonstrations. I don't recall what the commotion was about, but do remember the extra protective gear he had to wear at that time. It was a time of demonstrations turning into riots and complete chaos. Seeing my dad in his uniform, I saw the strong protector. I felt safe, knowing my dad was watching out for us.

Dad is retired now. He no longer wears a uniform, protective gear, or carries a gun. But he continues to be a strong protector of our family and others. His weapons are not visible, except when he's on his knees.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY DAD!

Sometimes It Can't Be Fixed

Not everything broken can be fixed. A lost treasure isn't always found. Ask me how I know.

Before Christmas, I embarrassed myself. Christopher was home and we went out shopping. As we passed my favorite jewelry store, I showed him the bracelet that I wasn't getting. He said, "ma, you don't know that." I assured him that his dad couldn't pull off a suprise like that. I had been hinting how much I wanted the bracelet. No, I wasn't hinting, I was practically begging. I told him about it in detail. I pulled it up on the internet to let him see exactly what I wanted. I even found some cheaper alternatives if he just couldn't swing this one. He didn't pay much attention. Christopher tried to encourage me that surely if it was that important, there was a good chance his dad bought it. No, I was confident that I knew him better. Michael would have asked what store it was at, or if I really wanted it, before he went out. I'd know. Besides, 2 days earlier, he'd bought me a pair of exotic boots for Christmas and it would be way too much money to spend. (Yeah, I knew I was getting them.)

Imagine my humiliation when Christmas morning, Christopher handed me a slender gift box from his dad that looked the perfect size for a bracelet. "Hmm...I wonder what this could be? Oh, but surely not. There is no way dad could possibly have surprised you. Wow, do you feel a little silly for the way you carried on the other day?" He continued laughing and teasing me. And he'd been correct. Michael had truly surprised me.


The whole situation reminded me of a Valentine's Day not too long ago. I posted about my disappointment at not receiving a coveted pair of diamond & ruby earrings. Michael surprised me. He gave them to me for my birthday. He has become unimaginably extravagant in giving to me.

Last week, while painting, I took my bracelet off and shoved it in my pocket so as not to get paint on it. In doing so, I bent it backwards deeming it unrepairable according to the jeweler. During that same week, I took off the above mentioned earrings and set them on the coffee table. They are no where to be found. I fear they fell off the table and I inadvertently vaccuumed them up. I'm afraid they are hidden inside a trash bag located in a remote landfill, never to be found again. You would think that with something so valuable and important to me I wouldn't be so careless.

The jeweler agreed to replace my bracelet if I would purchase an extended waranty for an extra $38. My bracelet is brand new. I am not very hopeful of ever finding my earrings.

The Good News? God is not careless. He has already purchased an extended waranty for us: The guarantee of eternal life. I was careless with this gift of life. I experienced pain, loss, loneliness. My life was a broken mess. I was sure the damage I'd done was irrepairable. But it was not. God made it brand new. He can do it for you.

No matter how lost I might become beneath the cares of this life, He knows where I am. He can pluck me from the darkest, most hidden place.

Maybe you aren't in a dark place, but find somewhere along the path, you've lost your way. You can be a valued treasure in the hand of God, if you want. Your redemption is there for the asking.

I imagine the garbage man walking through the dump. He stoops down. He turns over a dirty, wet paper plate. He digs a bit through the coffee grounds and dog hair and pulls out an item. "I knew right where you were all along," he says. At home, he washes and cleans his newly found treasure. There before him is a sparkling pair of diamond/ruby earrings-something of great value to him.

Every broken life can be fixed. Every lost person can be found.

Random Thoughts

Why do kids wait until right before bedtime to mention they are supposed to bring snacks to school the next day?

When and why do people start drinking coffee? Is it possible to begin at age 54? Michael is doing just that-sitting here having a cup of hot coffee with me for the first time ever. How cool is that after nearly 25 years of marriage? Oh, and he is much older than I.

Did I mention Ethan was here last weekend? I gave him the transformer valentine's I'd bought. We sat at the kitchen table playing something akin to paper dolls, except with cards printed with transformer guys. Ethan squeeled with delight as I did my best transformer voice imitiations. I thought we'd have to do that all day, until I took a quick break to check on his dog. I ran downstairs, let Dazy inside, gave her a treat, then ran back upstairs. In that short period of time, Ethan had ripped everyone of them into shreds. He looked to be having as much fun as he had playing paper transformer dolls. I let him continue ripping and tearing.

The $12 car wash isn't any better than the $6 one. In fact, I think my car looks much nicer at the cheaper price, especially when the roads are dry except for the snow in front of my house. As soon as I got home, slushy, snow splashed on what was a clean car.

Have a great weekend!

SuperMom

The day before Hilary left to Florida, she gave me this mini-balloon. She thought it was so cute.

I gave her a card as she was walking out the door. She told me she read it on the plane and it made her cry. Her coach asked what was wrong. She answered that nothing was wrong and shared the card with her. The coach said she wished I'd come on the trip with them.

The next trip to Nationals, I'm going too.

Book Meme

PJ at Bits & Pieces tagged me for this book meme. Here are the instructions:

1. Pick up the nearest book (of at least 123 pages.)
2. Open the book to page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the next three sentences.
5. Tag five people.

The book is Ten Minutes From Normal, by Karen Hughes

"Governor Bush had placed three of us at the head of the campaign: he paid us each the same salary, and treated us as equals. Karl Rove was our political guru, in charge of the overall strategy; Joe Albaugh was the campaign manager who liked to be known as 'the enforcer;' and I was the communicator, responsible for the message. Joe called us 'the brain, the brawn and the bite'."

(Okay, I'm going to cheat. I'm going to quote from the other book that was sitting atop this one.)

3:16 by Max Lucado

"Millions who face the chill of empty pockets or the fears of sudden change turn to Christ. Why? Because he's been there. He's been to Nazareth, where he made deadlines and paid bills; to Galilee, where he recruited direct reports and separated fighters; to Jerusalem, where he stared down critics and stood up against cynics."

So there you have it. Anyone want to play along?

Nothing Has Changed

My dad found a Christmas letter dated December 1970. He thought I'd find it interesting and could use it for blog fodder. In the letter, mom wrote an update on each of us kids. I was 8 at the time.

Joanne is a happy 8 year old in the third grade. Joanne especially
loves animals and babies. She was thrilled over winning two blue
ribbons at the fair, one for cookies and one for a knitted pair of
slippers. She enjoys reading, but most of all cooking. She has made
cookies, cakes, pancakes, biscuits and complete dinners. She also
likes to draw and write and asked if she could share one of her poems.

SANTA CLAUS

This is Santa Fellow,
His stomach is like jello,
He is fat and plump,
And can jump, jump, jump,
He's got eight reindeer,
that can even fly over a spear,
I hope he comes this year,
For I want his reindeer. by Joanne

This is me, pretty much 37 years later. I still love babies (animals not so much.) I remember that Christmas. I wanted a real, live baby. When my parents tried to talk me out of it, I wanted a monkey, or kitten. But that was only to take the place of the baby I was afraid I wouldn't get.

I get a thrill out of winning. I enjoy reading and cooking. Actually, I LOVE cooking. (Baking not so much.) Drawing? Hmmm, I doodle. If I'm on the phone on hold, I draw squiggles to pass the time. Writing...well, here I am. Poetry? Yep, I'm still not very good at it.

My dad only sent me this portion of the letter. I wonder if what was said of my siblings holds true today. My parents were 30 and 31 at the time and I'm sure were very busy. I can't wait to read the rest of the letter.