Twenty-Five

On the day we said "I do",

We embarked on an amazing journey.

We ventured into unknown territory,

Courageously faced mountains,

But stopped to enjoy the mountaintops.

Occasionally we walked through low valleys.

Soared high, Keeping the Blue Side Up,

But no matter the course, you worked hard to keep us going.

Along the way, we laughed,

A lot,

Managed Mishaps,

Hung on tightly, when necessary.

Changed our looks,

At least a few times.

Together we work,

And often play

Even get silly

But all-in-all

It's been a thrilling adventure

Filled with love

Joy,

Great times

While watching our family grow.

I love you more today

Than when this journey began.

Happy 25th Wedding Anniversary Michael!

Happy 55th Birthday Michael

Top Ten

I spoke with a friend today who mentioned she was madly trying to finish making Christmas presents. With finances so tight, she made a lot of her gifts. I couldn't help but notice the joy in her voice. I hope the recipients of her gifts will appreciate the love and effort she's invested in them.

Handmade gifts often require a chunk of time, but not always. I smile when I think of some of the treasures I've received or ones I'd like to have. Making your own gifts won't always be free, but can be less expensive and more meaningful than searching the stores or internet for the perfect gift. It's too late for these to be of any value this year, but maybe if I plan ahead for next year...one of these days it's going to happen.

1. Homebaked goodies. I'm not sure why these get a bad rap. I'm not much of a baker (I blame the altitude.) A plate of cookies is delightful. A loaf of bread is nice too.

2. Recipes, especially those secret ones that were handed down from your grandmother.

3. What would be nicer than a homecooked or ready-to-cook freezer meal? It's the perfect future gift. On one-of-those-days when I'm busy, tired, or stressed out, I can pull that present right out of the freezer. I'll open and enjoy when I need it most. Plus, my family reaps the benefits.

4. A music CD with meaningful, fun, or interesting music/songs. Personally, I love music. An incredibly romantic gift could be one song, packed full of sentiment, burned onto a CD.

5. For my younger nieces and nephews, I've always thought a fun gift would be that of a card or note once a month for a year. I'd try to include stickers, pictures, or a dollar occasionally and words of encouragement. What child doesn't enjoy receiving mail? Email is overrated in the eyes of a child.

6. A CD/DVD with a photo slideshow, especially fun put to music. Include fun and goofy photos. Perfectly posed photos become boring. Laughter & tears blended together create wonderful memories of joy.

7. The gift of time. Give a card with a date on it. It can be simple or extravagant.

Join me: January 31st, at 4:00p.m
Location: Starbucks
Occasion: A time to kick back, conversate, enjoy a warm drink & good company

To make it even more interesting, give the same gift to 2 or 3 friends and plan to meet at a time when the holidays are over. Catch up and have a great time.

8. A memory, love note, prayer, or blessing written out.

9. Kitchen/Dining things, tablecloths made to fit my extra-large table, napkins, placemats, table runners. (This one is extra exciting for me.) I asked my mom for a tablecloth this year. Have you ever tried to find a tablecloth to fit a table that is 120 inches long and 54 inches wide? Or buy 12-14 matching placemats at 6 dollars a piece? Add cloth napkins in and it isn't going to happen here. I know these aren't cheap to make either, but what a wonderful gift.

10. Service Gifts-A promise to wash a car, make a meal, sweep a floor, do a load of laundry. But don't give an empty promise, follow through. If necessary, give a specific date that you are available to do this.

So there it is. My top ten list of gifts that don't require you to get out your credit card, wander the malls aimlessly, or search the internet for hours on end trying to find the perfect gift.

I'd love to hear your top ten.
(Edited to add, scrapbooks, notecards, artwork, photocards, etc. to number 6. And to number 9, potholders, aprons, kitchen towels and the like.) Just in case. I'll try not to add to this list again today, but please do add your ideas.

Let The Little Children

Sitting in church yesterday, I was overwhelmed once again at God's plan of salvation. Meditating on how much was accomplished at the cross, how much he gave and provided for us, and how we can have a relationship with the Father because of this gift.

But while sitting there amazed at this incredible gift, another thought crept into my head. What if Ethan is never able to grasp this simple truth? Will he ever understand how much the Father loves him? Although we are born into sin, God sent Jesus to pay the penalty for that sin so a relationship with the Father can be restored, we can be forgiven. What if Ethan goes through life never knowing?

Tears began to flow. This just cannot be...but what if? And then, it was as if I could see the Father reach down with a smile across His loving face. He cradled a little child in his arms and began singing to him. It was a love song as the Father gently rocked.

I know that when a baby dies they are swept away to heaven. (Even those yet to be born.) I believe that we are not held accountable until the age of accountability. I do not know what that magical age is, because all of my children seemed to comprehend the simple truth before they were 6.

It's possible that Ethan may never reach this age of accountability no matter what age he becomes. But the Father in heaven will still take him up as a little child and hold him. At that time, Ethan will know. He will understand how very much he is loved.

"But Jesus said, “Let the little children come to Me, and do not forbid them; for of such is the kingdom of heaven." (Matt. 19:14) 10/31/05

(This is another repost. Three years later, this boy is just as sweet as ever.)

Just Five More Days

It's been awful quiet in blogland. I'm thinking everyone is busy with holiday preparations. Thanks everyone for your comments. Sarabeth arrived home safely-so I can now concentrate on my Christmas shopping and festivities.

What??? I only have 5 more days? How did that happen? Yikes! Ok, I need to do what the rest of you are doing...staying off the computer and enjoying the season. I had to laugh. My sister freaked out a few days ago because she didn't have her Christmas cards out yet. I told her I still have Christmas cards from the last 4 years that haven't gone out yet. Oh to be organized, what must that be like? Tell me your secrets.

And just for fun, here is a recent photo of my oldest, Christina andDanny:

What We Did Last Night

It must have been the very cold temperatures. I was on the computer when our electricity went out-4 times. Thankfully, the last shut off was only for an hour. Hilary worked on her homework by candlelight. (After the accident, I thought she deserved a break, but she needed to study for finals.)

I cozied up in front of the fireplace. What else was there to do? In the eery quiet, I sat waiting to hear that Sarabeth had quit driving in the snow for the night and had settled in to a nice hotel, when the doorbell rang. It is heart-stopping to see 2 sherif officers standing there. What in the world were they doing on a bitter cold night, when I have children out on the road, looking for my neighbor's son???? Sheesh! (Ok, one more thing to be thankful for.)

Sarabeth took her wise mother's advice and stopped in New Mexico for the night. Can't wait to see her.

What A Day It Has Been

I squinted to try to see more clearly. This can't possibly be right. My indoor weather station said the temperature on my back porch was -34 degrees. Impossible! I knew we were supposed to have record cold temperatures, but not this cold. I pushed the button to see the temperature reading for the front of the house. Thirty-one degrees below zero. Typically, our porch readings run a bit warmer than the official temperatures for our area. So how could this thermometer be accurate???

I was a little embarrassed when Michael pointed out the tiny dot between the 3 & 4. So it was really only negative 3.4 degrees outside my window. I quickly dressed as warmly as possible. Normally I don't have to go out so early, but I was taking Christopher and Lauren to the airport. Their best friends are being married in Mexico. They were quite excited to be getting out of the cold of Denver.

Since I was driving Christopher's 4 wheel drive, I handed Hilary the keys to the Suburban. The roads were icy and I was glad she would be driving a 4 wheel drive vehicle also. We left at the same time, headed the same direction. I glanced at the time. Even though the drive was slow going, I thought I would pick up the wedding party in time to get them to the airport.

All of the sudden, an SUV from a side road came flying past the stop sign. I watched in horror as it hit the back of the Suburban Hilary was driving. Life in front of me began moving in slow motion. On impact, the Suburban spun completely around. I began to brake the vehicle I was driving. Everything came to a stop. I'm not sure which is worse, getting a phone call that your child has been in an accident, or witnessing the whole thing.

Thankfully, nobody was hurt. Poor Michael. I ran home and got him out of the shower & dropped him off at the accident. I proceeded on to the airport run. More than 3 hours later, I arrived home. Still shaken.

In a few minutes, another daughter, Sarabeth, will begin driving home from Arizona. Did I mention how cold it is outside? Or how icy the roads are? In Phoenix it might be warm, but once she gets out of town, it is bitter cold and stormy. I will be very happy when I know she is safe at home. In the meantime, I'm going to imagine Christopher sitting on the beach somewhere in sunny Mexico-completely relaxed. And in the background I hear the words to a familiar tune,

"Every blessing you pour out,
I turn back to praise
When the darkness closes in, Lord
Still I will say...
Blessed be the name of the Lord
Blessed be your name"

A Christmas Child

(Revisiting a previous post)

It was nearing Christmas and I was 32 weeks pregnant with my 3rd child. The hustle and bustle of the season was wearing on me. My focus was not on the true meaning of Christmas but the busyness of a holiday. On that particular morning, I was up extra early. I was determined to have some quiet time before my children awoke. I needed that quiet.

I shivered in the cold morning air. As early as it was, it appeared to be light outside. I opened the drapes of our picture window. I stood in amazement. Snow had fallen overnight and the grass and trees were blankets of white. The sun was not yet up, but the snow glistened in the moonlight. It was one of those moments I wanted to share with others but didn't dare move for fear of missing out on it.

After a bit, I cozied myself into an overstuffed chair by the window to spend some of the quiet. I asked the Lord to help me keep the stillness inside so I could reflect on the true meaning of Christmas. My thoughts drifted to the first Christmas. What was it like to be pregnant with Jesus? Was it a cold night when his mother gave birth, outdoors in a stable? What were her thoughts as she neared the end of her pregnancy? Being with child myself, I knew the hours I spent wondering about my unborn baby. What would she look like? Would she be all girl wearing lace socks and frilly dresses or would she be more of a tomboy preferring to stomp in puddles in mud-stained jeans?

How did Mary deal with the anticipation of the awesome task before her? She was to raise Jesus, the Son of God. God himself. Did she worry about the mistakes she'd make? No parent is perfect. Even if her little boy was without sin, that didn't mean being his parent was easy. She would have sleepless nights, her baby would cry. It was her responsibility to teach him right and wrong, to guide and direct him. Ultimately she would train up her child to be the Savior of the world. I was completely overwhelmed at the thought of what it would be like to be the mother of Jesus. The task was daunting. Just as I imagined my inability to perform this duty the words of Jesus flooded my mind:

"Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me."

The gravity of it pressed in on me. I could not move, I could hardly breathe. My child, my unborn child, and each one of my children, was no less important than Jesus himself. Being a mom and raising my children right was every bit as serious as it was for Mary to parent Jesus. I sat there for a good long while. I was pregnant with my 3rd child. I wasn't aware that I would be blessed with 2 more precious children. Five. At that moment, 3 was almost terrifying.

But then, just as the snow had blanketed and softened the outdoors, the Lord's presence enveloped me. I knew I was not alone in this task. I was partnered with God. He already knew everything about my unborn child and what she would need for her future. I would surely make mistakes. But if I spent quiet times with Him, silencing the noise around me, God would guide me. He knows the best parenting plan for each one of us

Christmas Memories

Growing up I looked forward to Christmas with great anticipation. The scent of delicious homebaked goodies, mingled with the crisp pine of the tree as we adorned it with freshly strung popcorn. Each day was filled with excitement. I'm not sure how mom and dad kept it going. 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 of their generation, but they did have 4 children in 4 1/2 years. Consequently, money was tight. But that didn't keep our home from being magical at Christmas time.

Back then gadgets and electronics didn't fill our time. We enjoyed simple things. One of my favorites was listening to music-especially while my dad strummed along on his steel guitar. I loved the Christmas carols on black vinyl records, played on the phonograph. It wasn't often, but sometimes, when dad wasn't playing, he took me in his arms and we danced. I wasn't like my sister, who desired to take ballet and tap dance. I enjoyed waltzing along 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. He told me to step up onto place 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 also 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.

That Christmas morning, as always, we were up before the sun. I think part of the magic was getting up while it was dark outside. Walking bleary-eyed to where the Christmas tree lights sparkled and shined their glowing lit up the beautifully wrapped packages. Santa usually left a few things unwrapped. 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. ( I later found a matching one for me.) But the best part was under the doll's fabric shoes, my mom had sewn in loops of elastic.

I didn't wait to get dressed. Still wearing pajamas, I quickly put my shoes on. I then slipped the doll's elastic bands over them. My dolls feet rested perfectly atop my shoes-the way mine had on my dad's. Holding her up, I lovingly wrapped my arms around her, and we danced the morning away.

New Faces

Monday morning I sat at my computer as I like to do. I was a bit surprised when my screen no longer looked like this:

Instead what I found is this:

Can you guess who was on my computer over the weekend? I think it was an accident. But I wonder if he deleted anything.

Fifty Sounds Old

The year was 1979. We met through a friend, actually a guy I was dating. I was in high school, my boyfriend wasn't. He lived in a studio apartment that had been converted from an old hotel. Those rooms were tiny, smaller than dorm rooms. The beds doubled as couches.

On the top floor of this complex lived four guys in adjacent apartments. Actually, one of them lived on the other side of the pool, but it's easier to assume they all lived on the same floor. They might as well have, as they hung out together a lot. Being in such cramped quarters, I got to know these guys quite well. None of them were dating at the time.

One of them I liked more than the rest. Larry had a great sense of humor. He was just finishing college, was ambitious and seemed like an all-around good guy. We got along well so I wasn't surprised when one day he asked me if I had a sister. "As a matter of fact, I do. Would you like to meet her?"

On November 28th, Larry and my sister celebrated their 28th anniversary. Today is Larry's 50th birthday. So to Larry, Happy 5oth Birthday! Thank-you for being a wonderful husband to my sister and for the years of joy you have given her. You are a blessing to our entire family.

Music To My Ears

You have no idea how excited I get when I hear the 'T' sound. Ethan's latest love is trucks. We'd be driving along and he would begin making noises and pointing. Each time I turned, I didn't see anything. The problem was, I just looked past the big semi-rigs. I had no idea that these large machines fascinated him so.

His mom noticed. So she set out on teaching him how to communicate this. I don't know how she did it, but she taught him to say 'Tttttt.' So now when I hear the 'T' I look with enthusiasm to see what he is referring to. And I try to reinforce the 't'ruck when I see it. The only problem is he also likes Trains, Tractors, & Transformers and has found the 't' sound works for all of those.

But it brings such great pleasure hearing him 't', 't' 't'ing. He is communicating.

The Gift That Keeps On Giving

Growing up, my mom never insisted that I make my bed. She had more important things to think about. Besides, if I'd made my bed, it would have taken the fun out of jumping on it. As an adult, I love having a nicely made bed. It makes my bedroom look clean and tidy.

Sometime last year, I made a deal with Michael. Whoever crawls out of bed last makes the bed. This sounded like a perfect arrangement to me. You see, 5 days a week, I get up first. On the weekends I sleep later. Plus it makes sense. If I get up first, I can't make the bed right away. It's a chore to come back later just to make the bed.

It never ceases to put a smile on my face when I walk into the bedroom & find the bed made. For me, it looks like a beautiful gift, wrapped in perfect packaging. Michael makes the bed so much nicer than I do. I've never actually watched him do it, but it looks like it takes him a long time. The pillows aren't just thrown, but neatly placed. (I figure throw pillows should be tossed and land where they may.) The comforter hangs down evenly. The sheets and blankets are tucked so they don't fall below the comforter. A simply delightful gift that brings joy each time it is presented.

The bed makers gift? He gets to sleep a little longer.

Thanksgiving Leftovers

Outside everything is blanketed in snow. I love how it clings to the bare tree branches, as if to clothe their winter nakedness. It's a perfect day to put on a pot of homemade soup and bake bread. So soon after Thanksgiving, one would think I'd whip up turkey vegetable soup. And I would. If I could.

After a lovely Thanksgiving dinner, our wonderful guests cleaned up everything. It wasn't as if I just kicked back and did nothing. I put a few things away. But as I looked at the paltry leftovers in the refrigerator, I couldn't recall stripping the last of the turkey meat from the bones. Nothing was saved for soup-making. Michael, as usual, carved our bird. He removed only as much meat as he thought we'd eat, and saved the rest to be removed later. In their zeal to help, someone must have ditched the carcass without realizing how much meat was left. Sigh. Oh well. I did feel sorry that we had no leftovers to share with our guests. There was only enough for us to enjoy sandwiches the next day. Selfish, I know.

When I awoke the next morning, I found a dirty pan sitting on my clean, kitchen counter. Sometime during the night, Michael had awakened. I don't why, but he remembered putting the turkey back in the oven when we sat down to eat. And there it sat for the next 12 hours or so. When he remembered at 5, bagged it up and threw it out. I chastised myself for mentally accusing my dinner guests of disposing of the remaining turkey. I really feel guilty for not sharing the leftover bits.

So instead of turkey stew, a big pot of chili is in the crockpot.

On a more positive note, I do have a leftover can of whipping cream. MMMM...my mocha mint coffee was delicious topped with whipped cream, and a dash of red sprinkles.

Thankful

I wish I'd cleaned my oven before today.
I wish I'd cleaned my refrigerator out too.

But I'm thankful that I have a lovely oven and a refrigerator full of food.

I wish I hadn't gotten a root canal right before Thanksgiving.
I wish I didn't have to get another root canal.

But I'm thankful I can still chew, just very carefully.

Thanksgiving Memories

Thanksgiving Memories
(Previously posted, but as I prepare for Thanksgiving, and pumpkin pies, this memory comes to mind.)

My first attempt to make an entire Thanksgiving meal on my own, and my inlaws were coming to visit. I had 2 small children, and I worried how I would get everything done. Preparing for houseguests was stressful. Cleaning our 3 bedroom home, picking up toys, the day to day activity of a 4 year old, compounded by a toddler that loved making messes...did I mention lots of cleaning? Add that to Thanksgiving with all of the trimmings, & I felt more than overwhelmed. I wanted so much to provide a comfortable, relaxed home for my inlaws to enjoy & to serve a delicious meal, eaten in the company of sweet, well-behaved grandchildren.

The day before Thanksgiving, our guests arrived the day. I stayed up late that night, wanting to get a start on the big day. After everyone had gone to bed, I baked the pumpkin pies. The next morning, I was exhausted, and didn't hear my children get up. How must that look to the grandparents? A mother who doesn't get up and have breakfast waiting for her children? I dressed quickly and went to the kitchen. There stood my little boy.

"Yum, yum! This is good Mommy."

Christopher was covered in orange goo. So was the chair he stood atop and the table. Both pies were missing most of the pumpkin. This was before digital cameras, but I doubt I would have grabbed the camera. This was not a Kodak moment. I started to cry.

Thankfully, I have the best inlaws in the world and should not have worried. In fact they probably cooked more of the dinner than I did. They were a huge help and very encouraging. I never felt the need to impress them again. Afterall, they'd had 5 kids and understood that little boys loved eating pumpkin pie. Somehow, when you are a grandparent you don't stress over those things.

Eighteen years later when I awoke to find another small boy eating the middles of my pumpkin pies, I grabbed my camera. Yum, yum! I love being a grandparent to Ethan.

Thunk Thursday on Friday

How hard is it to say, "You're Welcome?" The phrase is traditionally said after the "thank-you" offering. So where does a "no problem" response fit in this equation? People, it doesn't.

I'm walking along. The woman passing through the door in front of me stops to hold it open. I turn and say, "thank-you." Flippantly, the phrase seems to roll off her lips, "no problem." I'm sorry. I didn't think it WAS a problem. Was it really that difficult of a task that you felt the need to let me know it wasn't really a problem? Next time I'll hold my own door, thank-you-very-much.

Is "you're welcome" more difficult to say than no problem? It's 3 syllables. It isn't as if "no problem" is quicker and easier to blurt out. Like I said, 3 syllables.

"You're welcome" implies that the person was glad to offer their service to you. To me, it's a simple way to say, "anytime you need the door held open, I'm happy to do it for you." It sounds kind, courteous.

The "no problem" response does not express this same friendly attitude. It comes off as, "I'm trying not be rude, so I'll answer "no problem," but truthfully my action to help you out IS an annoyance to me.

I phoned the doctor's office this morning. It took some doing to schedule an appointment. I thanked the receptionist for the extra effort she put towards working with me. Her response: "no problem." Grrr...this is my newest pet peeve.

The next time I hear someone squelch my thank-you with "no problem," I'm going to ask, "is it sometimes a problem?" Or maybe, "I'm sorry, is it often a problem for you to hold the door open?" Or what if I am rude back and tell the receptionist, "you're right, it wasn't a problem for you to set the appointment. It was your job."

Wordless Wednesday

Thankfulness: I am thankful to live in such a beautiful state and witness the handiwork of God every day.

Urgent Text Message

I am in the kitchen washing dishes, when I hear the ping of my phone. I dry my hands wondering who is sending me a message. I read:

~Mom, are you near the computer?~

I remember 9/11. We were glued to the t.v. all day watching with horror. It couldn't be anything like that, Michael was at his computer. He checks in with CNN regularly. I text her back:

~No~

I remember April 20, 1999. It was another day in Colorado we sat riveted to the screen as we watched the tragedy of the shooting at Columbine High School. Ping! My hands are wet again. I grab a towel.

~Can you get on the computer for me real quick?~

Cell phone in one hand, a kitchen towel in the other, I head to the computer.

~Ok, what do you need?~

~You know that chicken on bugs bunny and friends and his name was like Colonel something and he was big what was his name? My history class wants to know.~

I'm a little confused. But like any good mom, I begin a google search.

~Foghorn Leghorn~

~Well which is it?~

~No, that is his whole name.~

~LOL cool thanks~

I'm still texting my reply

~Foghorn is his first name, he played with the dog. Nobody said his name really.~

~Thanks Mom! That was driving us crazy~

That evening I ask her what that was all about. She said she was in history class and they couldn't remember the chicken's name. It was driving the teacher crazy that nobody could come up with it. So he told her, "Hilary, text your mom. You're always texting her in class anyway."

I'm thinking I need a raise for providing entertainment to the school history class. Either that or I just need to get a job. I obviously have way too much time on my hands-at least that's what everyone thinks.

Thankfulness: I am so very thankful I've been able to stay home and raise my children.

Bad Grandma

Not only did Ethan not take his leg braces home with him, but this is what happened to his other pair of shoes.

We All Need Support

Ethan & Christina came over on Saturday. As usual, the first thing he did when he came inside is kick off his shoes. There was one differnce. He was also wearing his braces. Those came off too.

He stayed with me Saturday evening, while Christina had a night out. We played cars, watched a movie and did laundry-Ethan's choice. (I am thankful I remembered to cap everything tightly.) We filled the washer with dirty clothes. When it was full, Ethan insisted on filling the dryer with them too. Made me wish I'd taken the clean clothes out first.

Before he went to bed that night, I set his braces neatly on the bottom shelf, so they'd be easy to find. But when Christina went to leave yesterday, they were no where to be found. She and I searched for over an hour. The clothes hampers, laundry chute, the toy boxes...all of the places he'd been where he might have placed them. I couldn't imagine when they were moved or where. We finally gave up and they left without his braces.

I was frustrated, as I'd been so careful to put them neatly away. This doesn't happen often. I continued wandering around the house trying to imagine what a 6 year old might do with his foot/leg supports. And then I prayed.

"God where are these? I know that YOU know what happened to them." I wondered aloud if he even needed them. Were they doing him any good? Maybe it was good they were lost. "But Lord, it would be nice to know what has happened to them. Would you please help me find them?"

I went into my bedroom & opened the storage closet. There atop my boxes sat the braces. I have no idea why he would put them there & shut the door. But I am thankful that God answers prayer.

(Speaking of prayer, in my sidebar is a link to Terry's blog. His wife Julee is having a biopsy of her breast today.)

A Bad Hair Day/Updated

Maybe he is more observant than I thought. Or maybe not. Michael was perusing my blog and the photos from yesterday's post. He noticed something "strange." So he asked me about it.

"When did your dad begin parting his hair on the other side?"

"What?" I had no idea what he was talking about.

He went on to point out that in the older photos his hair was parted on the left, but the newest one it is on the right.

Do men really care or notice these things? (I think I could come home with my hair blue and it would be awhile before he noticed.)

I surmised that in older pictures, taken with film, the image was possibly flipped. While in newer, digital photos, they were correctly oriented.

We studied more photos. Nope. Michael pointed out that in one photo Dad had a pen in his pocket. He assured me he had it on the left side of his shirt. I argued that my dad is left handed and maybe he put them in his right pocket. My detail-oriented husband noted that his shirt only had one pocket. Men's dress shirts often have only one pocket, I was informed. And that would be on the right. Who knew these things?

So we are waiting for my dad's response. Why would he begin parting his hair on the "wrong" side? As women, we do side parts, middle parts, no parts. Men do not change the side on which they part their hair. Not a man who goes to the barber shop. I've been told.

So Dad, which is it? My last guess is that occassionally the barber parts it incorrectly and cuts it that way. Dad then has to live with it until the next haircut. To me, that would be like having a bad hair day for like a month. Horrors! I would hate that.

I received this response from my dad:

I grew up with my hair being parted on the left side. I never questioned it, that is just the way it was. I don't know if my mother parted it that way because I was left handed and it would be easier or if the crown was more on the left. Anyway, years later after I quit parting my hair and just combed it straight back, I decided to start parting it again. I noticed it didn't seem to part so easily on the left side, but my hair seemed to naturally lay over to the left making it easier to part on the right. I started parting it on the right and have done so ever since. Being left handed, it would be easier to part on the left, but my hair doesn't seem to cooperate. Funny you should bring that up. It has been quite awhile now that I parted it on the right. Can't remember the last time I parted it on the left.

One Week Later

Last Friday we celebrated my parents' 50th wedding anniversary.

I flew into town on Wednesday evening. Friday morning we met at Greg's home and began working feverishly. Greg cleaned and moved furniture. His wife, my sisters, and I decorated & cooked. As we worked, I couldn't help but notice how each one of us gave of our gifts and talents. The creativity & organization was truly amazing. I caught a glimpse of how God gifts His people and by working together we can do awesome things. Everything flowed smoothly and a great time was had by all.

Thank-you Mom & Dad for being the best parents ever. We've gleaned much from your guidance & wisdom in knowing when to speak truth to us and when to step back and give us room to learn from our mistakes.

Your love and generosity extends not only to family, but so many others.

Your faith and commitment have stood strong and set a firm foundation for your children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren & future generations.

Your spirit of adventure gives us the courage to journey into deeper waters.

Happy 50th Anniversary Mom & Dad!

I'd share the video I we gave to mom & dad, but it's 12 minutes long. Instead, here are a few photos from it:


November 8, 1958-Mom & Dad's Wedding
(Yes, they were teenagers, 18 & 19)


Mom & Dad 2007

And just for fun, I submit the following:


1975-Me & Dad, My Confirmation



Homecoming 1976, My date, Me, my brother Greg and his wife Kathleen



1976 Mom & I with their first grandbaby, Michael (& yes, those were my silver teeth years)



1978 Me, Dad, and the first grandchild, Michael (and the fancy van conversion dad bought as he neared his 40th birthday)


1989 Me holding Elisabeth, my mom holding Sarabeth the day we had her dedicated, Christina & Christopher


Mom, my sisters Carolyn & Laurie, Me Can you guess the year by the hair and big glasses? (Since I have curly hair, I wasn't sporting the perm look and didn't need glasses, lol.)

Do you hate going to the dentist?

I often hear people complain how much they hate going to the dentist. When asked why, their answer usually suprises me. I expect to hear a horror story of a mad, tooth-yanking dentist with wild eyes and a crazed look. Usually I hear, "I don't like someone having their hands in my mouth," or "I hate it when he scrapes the plaque off my teeth."

Normally I don't mind going to the dentist. Running my tongue over perfectly polished teeth gives me a thrill. But at my most recent dental visit, I fought off tears throughout. Several times the doctor's assistant patted my shoulder in her attempt to comfort me. The funny thing is, I LIKE this dentist.

I don't have a harrowing story to recollect for you, at least not outside of my own imagination.

After this particular visit, I climbed into my car. I told myself "this isn't a big deal, why the tears and emotion?" I found the answer in an old familiar sadness, perched atop my heart. I recognized the message it was transmitting: Forever Changed, never the same. It was as if I'd just received the permanent stamp marked "defective."

Even my beloved dentist had said more than once during this visit, "I wish I had a magic wand to wave, that would take you back to before you had this dental work done. But I don't." I had so hoped he could work a miracle, & change what another dentist had done. But his words told me know he didn't possess that kind of power.

What brought about this wish to go back to before? A crown. Plain and simple, only it wasn't. I suppose I was naive about the true definition of "crown." It actually sounds a bit glorified. I imagined a crowning bit of gold atop my tooth, raising it to the status of royalty. A crowned king. The dentist never explained that to crown my tooth he would attack it with mighty power tools. He would grind it down to a mere nub, cover it up with an imposter tooth causing excruciating, unending pain. Then he would declare it call it a king, er, crown. And that is what he did.

My life isn't the same. I don't like the change. I want my old tooth back. The one that emerged 44 years ago. I've experienced this before.

I remember having the same painful desires from November, 1971. I woke up that cold morning, hoping it had all been a dream. The night before, my siblings and I had created a slick ice slide. Outside our back door stood a long ramp leading to the back yard. Originally built to accomodate a wheelchair, it became a form of amusement to the four of us. We were fascinated to find that a glass of water, when spilled at the top, would freeze before reaching the bottom. We tried larger cups of water. To our amazement, no matter how much water we poured, it froze fast to the cement. We began using buckets. Before long, we had our very own tilted ice rink.

Two at a time, we raced to the bottom of the ramp. This continued until we were shivering cold. My competitive brother challenged me to one final race. Just wanting to go indoors and get warm, I reluctantly agreed.

"On your mark. Get set. Go!"

Down we went. Realizing he was about to lose, Greg swung his arms forward. Using me as a spring board, he shoved ahead to win. My feet slipped beneath me and I fell face forward, leaving my 2 front teeth broken off & stuck in the ice.

An emergency trip to the dentist left me with 2 new teeth. Nobody called them crowns, and they weren't made of gold. When I looked in the mirror the next morning all I saw were shiny silver teeth.


I wanted my old teeth back. The ones I'd had before. I wore sadness. Life would never the be the same. Marked with "forever changed/defective," my smile was stamped shiny and metallic. Forever was 10 long years.

My teeth now sport white fronts, but the silver backs remind me that they are unnatural. The pain of my crowned tooth speaks the same. I want my old tooth back.

I've joined the group that hates going to the dentist.

I'm Back

I didn't think I could do it. I went an entire week without so much as logging on to the computer. It wasn't necessarily by choice. Did you know most airlines now charge $15/each way to check a bag? This coupled with the fact that I don't own a laptop, I managed to do avoid staring at a computer screen for days. My eyes are rested, as are my fingers. I think my elbow feels better too. But gosh, do I feel out of touch. I didn't realize how much time I spend on here.

The last week of October, I did it. It must be contagious. I began playing Christmas music. The very next day, across the street, the neighbors lights showed up. No, they weren't for Halloween. These are most certainly for Christmas. When I arrived home this week, Christmas lights twinkled next door also. It is beginning to look and sound like Christmas. (I wonder if it is too late to decorate for Thanksgiving.)

I had a wonderful time while I was gone, but it is good to be home.

Decision Day

The day has finally arrived. Never have I heard such venomous arguments between people of opposing political sides. Friends, family members, co-workers spewing angry, degrading remarks at one another, because of their particular party persuation. What a show we have put on for the rest of the world in the "United" States of America.

The phrase "United we stand, divided we fall resounds in my ears." Patrick Henry used the phrase in his last public speech, given in March 1799, in which he denounced The Kentucky and Virginia Resolutions. Clasping his hands and waving his body back and forth, Henry declaimed, “Let us trust God, and our better judgment to set us right hereafter. United we stand, divided we fall. Let us not split into factions which must destroy that union upon which our existence hangs.” At the end of his oration, Henry fell into the arms of bystanders and was carried almost lifeless into a nearby tavern. Two months afterward he was dead.*

The Kentucky & Virginia Resolutions were written to keep more control at the State Level in order to oppose Federal Laws. Power. Control. Who is in charge of making decisions for the people?

Doesn't seem like much has changed, but I did find the little tidbit of Patrick Henry's demise interesting.

*From Wikipedia

Wordless Wednesday

In case you missed these:

A few more photos:

A New Week

Ah, a brand new week. Normally I don't like Mondays, but today is different. I looked at my calendar and what did I see?

No costumes to create.
No school parties to plan.
No cupcakes to bake, no decorations to make.
Nothing. I have nothing to do.

Honestly, I never thought I'd see this day come. I couldn't imagine it in my wildest (or calmest) dreams. But it is here.

I was warned by older ladies that children grow up in the blink of an eye. It isn't that I didn't believe them. But back then, I didn't have time to blink. It was one of those things that would have to wait. Somewhere along the way, my eyes grew weary & closed. The blink happened.

This week, I will watch moms rush about with their little ones. I will smile. I won't bother to tell them to stop and enjoy the moment. One day down the road, their eyes will momentarily shut. They will glance at the calendar, but it will look different. It will be empty. A smile will spread across their face. Together we will relax and enjoy the memories.

Speaking of Dancing

Christina uploaded a video. I laughed so hard when I saw it. (It's only a minute and 24 seconds.) I asked her why Ethan didn't dance at the wedding. Her response: "He had pockets." Oh yeah, I forgot about the pockets.

Anyone Care To Dance?

In some Christian circles, dancing is controversial. The school associated with my church does not allow the high school to have dances. Kids from over 150 different churches attend. To avoid divisions, they chose to opt out of dance activites. The funny thing is, the church has no problem with dancing during worship services. I know, some reading here might be horrified to think of me moving my feet and (gasp!) dancing during church. But we do. Why not? King David danced before the Lord. His bride mocked him and found herself barren the remainder of her life.

Here are some dancing photos from the wedding:















(I have no idea...)

Thoughts

I'm not sure why. I guess it takes time to digest a big event. Months of planning, preparing, anticipating and then it is over. Every night, before falling asleep, memories of the wedding/rehearsal/reception/brunch, etc. play in my head. When I awaken, it is the same. It has a hold on me, like a favorite book or movie.

I look forward to the return of the newlyweds. There was no time to spend with them after the big event. I want to hear their thoughts, feelings, and such. What moments were most memorable? Moments of joy, stress, tenderness...I want to know how it went for them. Without a doubt, they are reliving every part of their celebration.

At the rehearsal, Michael made a toast to the couple. I wish I'd had a video camera. After reminding Christopher of the longevity of marriages in their family history (we are at 25 years, Lauren's parents 33, my parents are getting ready to celebrate their 50th, Michael's parents their 59th,) he went on to give Christopher a few words of advice. I hope I get this right.

He said to tell his new wife he loves her at least once each day.
Tell her often how beautiful she is.
And lastly, if she sends him to the store, he should get very specific instructions so as not to bring home the wrong thing. (I think I might have forgotten something, but that was the gist of it. Maybe he will comment or someone else whose memory is better.)

Did I post a pic of my girls yet? If not, here they are:
Elisabeth, Hilary, Sarabeth, Christina, & Ethan in the front.

Sadness To Joy

When we arrived at the church, the wedding coordinator gave the girls wrist corsages to wear. She pinned on my corsage, but couldn't find Michael's boutoniere. After searching several times, she began to get worried. The bride & groom had their flowers, as did the groomsmen and bridesmaids. But the father of the groom's boutoniere was missing.

The coordinator opened the remaining corsages and checked the names on each of those. It was then I noticed my mom's corsage. Teary-eyed, I told the woman that my mom and dad could not make it to the wedding. My mom had only gotten out of the hospital on Monday and was unable to make the Thursday flight. I suggested she give my dad's boutoniere to Michael, which she did.
I turned my attention to Ethan. He'd driven over with us. Christina hadn't arrived yet. Looking like a gentleman in his little black suit, I saw Ethan tug on his lapel. He turned, looked quizzically at his grandpa, then peered down at his jacket.

"Ethan wants to wear a flower," one of the girls remarked. About this time, Christina showed up. The coordinator gave her a wrist corsage. Ethan took her hand and pulled. She turned to greet him. He held his jacket lapel out to her. The tears were falling too easily at this point. How could I tell this little boy he didn't have a flower to wear, even though the rest of the men did? His eyes searched the faces of everyone, as if pleading for someone to notice he didn't match.

There sat my mom's unworn corsage. Quickly, it was pinned to his suit. A smile spread across his face. He wore it proudly. We didn't find out until Saturday, that my mom was back in the hospital.

Ethan & The Wedding

We were unsure how Ethan would handle the wedding. He is easily overwhelmed when subjected to large groups of people. Over 300 people were invited to the event.

At the rehearsal, Ethan seemed fascinated by the church. The cathedral ceiling and stained glass windows were new to him.

Christina & Sarabeth were scheduled to light the candles at the beginning of the ceremony. Ethan quickly clasped their hands, ready to go.

Thinking he wasn't up to the task, his grandpa coaxed him to the back of the foyer.

But just as soon as the girls began walking down the aisle, Ethan broke out in huge sobs and shrieks. He did not want him mom going anywhere without him.

The day of the wedding, Christina dressed Ethan in his new suit. When he realized he and his grandpa matched, he was delighted.

At some point he found his pants pocket. His hand remained there the rest of the night.


At the wedding, and at the reception. He eventually realized he had 2 pockets. We never saw his hands again. I picked him up and danced with him. It was a little awkward since he kept both hands securely tucked.

Ethan did amazingly well, even with the crowds of people. During the ceremony, holding hands with his mom and Sarabeth, he marched down the aisle and up the steps to light the candles. I stood in the back with Christopher, waiting to be escorted to my seat. Christopher, filled with emotion, said, "Ah, I'm so glad Ethan went with them." At that moment, Ethan turned towards the audience, wide-eyed with wonderment. Christopher turned away, as tears filled his eyes. "Mom, I don't know how I'm going to get through this." A moment later, both of us teary-eyed walked the aisle together. I took my seat, and the groom stood waiting for his bride.

Wedding Week 1

What a whirlwind of week long wedding events! The happy honeymooners have set sail, cruising in the Caribbean.

Memories were made. Families were merged. The wedding was wonderful.

Love Stories

Mary over at Owlhaven declared October as Love Story month. She is in the midst of sharing her story, as are others like Jenni at One Thing. As I mention this, I am watching an October Love Story unfold. Christopher and Lauren's wedding is THIS FRIDAY! To say this week is busy is a complete understatement. I hope to share more soon, but I may be absent a lot.

In the meantime, I was looking back to when I posted how Michael and I met. Funny, it was at this time of year in 2006 that I shared. October must mysteriously fill the air with feelings of love and marriage. Here are the links to our story:

Toast & Water

First Date

Maybe one of these days I'll finish, and catch up to the time just prior to the toast and water.

Quick Update

My mom might be going home today! The doctor didn't place any stents and believes he can treat her with medication. All of the other tests have come back normal. The only one left is an EEG scheduled for this morning and if all is well, after 9 days confined to the hospital, she will go home.

Mom is typically a vivacious, innovative, very involved, busy person. She works, volunteers, and amidst her creative arts, doesn't have time for boredom. Mom lives life to the fullest. It's been difficult to see her feeling so badly she could hardly do anything the past 2 months.

After the wedding, I just might make another trip to Arizona to spend time with my parents.

I Hate Waiting

I'm sitting here on pins & needles. I hate waiting. My mom is having an angiogram done at this moment. She is 1000 miles away. Mom has been in the hospital for a week now. She has battled "this thing" for nearly 2 months. (Although it might have begun back in May.)

I might have told you that the doctors at another hospital have seen her 6 or 7 times, sending her home with high blood pressure. They diagnosed her as having panic attacks. I didn't believe that for one minute. Something was wrong.

Her own doctors were not treating this serious. They played this shuffle game, passing her back and forth from doctor to doctor as if whatever was going on was not their specialty. That was one of the reasons I went to see her last month. Only I didn't actually ever talk to her primary doctor. She had too many emergencies and passed my mom off to the PA.

This new hospital has been wonderful, running ever test imaginable, but coming up with "normal" on virtually everything. They moved her out of the cardiac unit telling her she didn't have a heart problem. On sort of a whim, her internist ordered a stress test. The cardiologist tried to talk her out of it, saying he didn't think it was necessary.

Last night, the cardiologist came in and told her there was a blockage and he wanted to go in and do an angiogram/possible a stent or whatever was necessary. He was shocked at the stress test. He said every heart test that had been performed on her was perfectly normal. It makes sense now that the other hospital diagnosed her with having anxiety attacks. I've heard that women sometimes present with these type of symptoms when they are having heart problems. They usually have a fatal heart attack because they aren't diagnosed properly.

Ugh! Did I mention how much I hate waiting??? The procedure was supposed to take 1 hour. It has been an hour and a half. Can't someone at least phone and say, "she isn't out yet, we don't know what is taking so long," rather than just leave me, waiting?

Thank-you to all of you who have prayed.

Oh, and the wedding is a week from today. My mom and dad won't make it. I'm so sad.

I've Lost Something

I must be losing my mind, or something. I wrote a post yesterday. It published. Today I see nothing but an empty spot. The funny thing is, the post went something like this:

Have you ever set a timer, heard it go off, & then wondered what in the world it was for?

So if you run across something that looks like a missing piece of a puzzle, send it to me. It must be part of my mind.

Trains & Boy Things

Thomas the Train was at the train museum this weekend. I didn't get a single photo of Thomas, but here are a few I took.

Ethan was excited about the firetruck, but nervous about being put in front of one.

The bus ride from the parking lot might have been his favorite part.


(No, I'm not advertising for Coors.) But look at that Colorado sky!

Grandpa & Ethan on the train.

Ethan & Christina

Can Someone Explain This???

My mother-in-law went to the hospital last night around 1 a.m. Her blood pressure was 190/125. Sometime during her ambulance drive, her blood pressure dropped back to normal, as did her heart rate. The ER doctor admitted her in order to run tests to see WHY her blood pressure spiked like that.


My own mother has had the paramedics take her to the hospital on 2 different occasions with her blood pressure over 200. Dad's also taken her to the ER with her blood pressure sky high (while on several blood pressure medications.) Each time they've sent her home without ever getting her blood pressure lower than 170/85. Nor have they ever admitted her to try to see why this is happening. What is wrong with this picture???

I'll stop my rant here, as I could go on all day.

So does anyone else negotiate with onesself besides me? I play the game, "I'm not going to do 'A' until I've done '1,2,3." This translates to: I will not post on my blog until I've checked 3 things off of my to-do list. It is a means of motivating myself to accomplish the tasks I don't really want to finish. As you've no doubt surmised by my lack of posts, it isn't working. My to-do list is getting longer, not shorter.

I have missed being here! Today I tried a new tactic. I put "posting on blog" at the top of my to-do list. I'm so happy. I now have 1 item crossed off of the list. I feel better already.

Today Is Your Day

Sometimes it just isn't your day. Surely it was yours today, as it certainly wasn't mine. Let's see how my day went:


I was making Hilary's lunch and realized the turkey didn't smell so appetizing. She really likes turkey and Monday is my grocery shopping day. (Who am I kidding? I go every day. Ugh!) Hope she wasn't too disappointed. (She phoned on the way to school. The gas light was on. She hasn't driven that car since Thursday. Who drove it last????)


I decided to take a photograph of the dress I bought over the weekend. I am still looking for the perfect dress to wear to the wedding. I told the bride I'd send her a picture. After putting on the dress & thinking it was a little snug, I promptly dropped the camera and broke it.


I noticed one of the stones in my wedding ring was loose. It needed to be cleaned and inspected this month anyway, in order to keep the extended warranty valid. Wanting to have the ring back in time for the wedding, I went to the Jewelers to have it fixed. To my dismay, the jewelry shop is going out of business. You can't be serious?! But they were. They wouldn't even clean it. I can ship my ring off to a company who will honor the warranty. But what guarantee do I have that it will arrive and that I will get it back????


At the mall, I noticed this cute stuffed monkey. Elisabeth thought it would be fun to dress up for Halloween as the (wo)man in the yellow hat, but she needed a Curious George to go with the outfit. I pulled my phone out to take a picture. If she loved it, I'd buy it. Only my phone said I didn't have enough memory left to take a picture. Then it went haywire and all of my photos and songs disappeared. I tried hooking it up to my computer when I arrived home. The computer kept telling me to insert a disc. I wanted to scream.


I half expected to see my car with a big dent or something. Did I mention one of my daughter-in-laws' clients was arrested over the weekend for murdering a smoke shop owner?


One of the reasons I am not coping well is I have a rib out-of-place. It is very painful. Last Thursday the chiropractor taped it for support. For 2 days, sleeping and moving was blissful. After the tape came off, things began slipping fast. So I went back to the chiropractor I went. After therapy and such, he adjusted my ribs. "There," he proclaimed, "how does that feel? It should feel much better." And it would have, had he not been on the wrong side of my rib cage.
He wasn't on his game today either.

At the grocery store I knocked 2 containers of yogurt out of the refrigerator case. Those little foil lids split open splattering the gooey white substance everywhere, including my shoes. I wanted to cry.

Michael was sitting at the computer as I told him of my woes. Something fell to the ground. It was his mouse, and the little scrolly ball rolled down the driveway. My off day is apparently contagious.

Quick, move away from this page before you are infected too. This has to be somebody's day, so let it be yours.

This & That

Have I mentioned the incredible man I'm married to? Yesterday he went golfing. I dropped him off and picked him up. While I drive around in a cute, fun, fast little car, he doesn't have one at all (most of the time.) Last year we foolishly thought we'd only have 1 kid living at home. We have 3. That means 4 vehicles & 5 drivers. Someone doesn't have a car. But what a guy to let his girls all drive while he goes without! (Truthfully, I think he enjoys being driven around in a cute car, by his lovely wife.)

Thanks for the comments, concerns, & prayers for my mom and nephew. Geoff had his ear sewn back on, his face stitched up, his fractured cheek is healing nicely, which only leaves his gimp shoulder to be fixed.

My mom is not doing a lot better. She has been waiting over 2 weeks to see a specialist. Are we sure we don't have socialized medicine??? I wish I lived in town with her. I'd have insisted they get her in sooner. Even if it took me going to their office every single day asking, I would do it. They'd get tired of seeing me. I would be like the widow who wearied the unjust judge by her continual requests for his help. (Luke 18:1-8)

The wedding is fast approaching and I hope very much my mom and dad will be here. I'm afraid it will be a whirlwind of activities but I truly want to enjoy every minute of it. (I'll let you know if I'm able to do that.)

I'm getting tired of seeing unfinished posts in my draft box. Maybe I will get to those soon. Oh my word! Is it really almost Fall???