Happy 18th Birthday Hilary!

Some of you will find it strange that I am wishing Hilary a Happy Birthday. Her 18th birthday was in March. Recently I received a text message that questioned why I didn't have a blog post on March 18, 2010. It was from Hilary. She noted that on every one of her siblings birthdates, I had mentioned or noted them in some fashion.

I protested that I never promised I would acknowledge birthdays on my blog. With our large family, do you have any idea how many days would be spent recognizing these events? I argued that I did not write about all of her siblings. I browsed through my archives. She was right. In one way or another, I HAD mentioned each of my children's special days. I searched through my unpublished posts and I found her birthday tribute. Unfinished. March had been a busy month. We had out-of-town guests the week prior to her birthday. My birthday. Spring break. Plenty of excuses... So here I am to finish that post.

Dear Hilary,
Before you were born, God planned for you. Before you were conceived, God gave me a personal promise. His promise was that he would bring a special joy into my life. This wasn't merely joy that produces a serene, contented smile. We're talking about such glee that it elicits squeals of delight, break-out with song & dance, jump up & down in celebration, shouting kind of joy that cannot be contained. I wasn't sure what this promise would be, but looked forward to receiving it. The sheer anticipation filled my heart with abundant, overflowing happiness. I named this blessing "Hilary Rose."



Bringing happiness, fun, and laughter to our family isn't your only gift.


God has invested many treasure in you. As I did with your siblings, I sought the Lord on how to specifically "Train up a child in the way she should go, And when she is old she will not depart from it." God had already given me an Esther, David, Ruth, & a Virtuous Woman to raise. Now I had a Deborah.

If you've never read or studied Deborah, she can be found in the book of Judges. Deborah was a prophetess and a judge. What she is better known for is leading an army into a victorious battle & receiving recognition for it. She was an unexpected leader. Women did not go to battle, nor did they lead men on the battlefield. This job belonged to Barak; a man. But he refused to follow God's will for his life, unless Deborah accompanied him. So she was the one honored for her leadership, instead of him.

Don’t let anyone look down on you because you are young, but set an example for the believers in speech, in conduct, in love, in faith and in purity. ( God gave me this verse to pray over you when you were a toddler. It's found in 1 Timothy 4:12)

You are 18, and off to college. It is interesting that you chose engineering as your major, a predominantly male profession. Women comprise only nine percent in this field of study. Wherever God leads you, I believe that like Deborah, you have what it takes to be successful. It doesn't matter if you are the youngest, or that you are female, or anything else that some might perceive as an obstacle to being a great leader. When you follow God with all your heart, soul, mind, & strength, nothing is impossible.


"Therefore I remind you to stir up the gift of God which is in you through the laying on of my hands. For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind." (2 Timothy 1:6-7)

We love you Hilary! You are a blessing to not only our family, but to the world. Walk wisely.

Happy Anniversary Mom & Dad

Here's to

Many More Years...

And


Many More Adventures.

Happy 52nd Anniversary, I love you!

Oh For Pete's Sake....

I sure hope our government can tone down it's desire to control every aspect of our lives, now that the election is over. Seriously, did San Francisco's recent law infuriate anyone else? I am thankful I don't live in San Francisco with young children who can eat food with gluten.

In case you haven't read it, San Francisco has made it illegal to give away free toys with children's meals unless they have less than 600 calories, contain fruits and vegetables, and include beverages without excessive fat or sugar. (I wonder if 2% milk has excessive fat?)

News Flash: Some people actually go to McDonald's because we LIKE the food, not just because our kid wants a toy.

When my children were young, we went to McDonald's as a treat. I liked their food, as well as my children. They never had soda at home, so I always allowed them one when we ate out. They drank milk or water at home. When we traveled, we always stopped for lunch at McDonald's because they had clean restrooms, a place for the children to stretch their legs or play, and every single member of our family liked the food. The toy was just an added bonus. None of my children were overweight.

When my grandson came along, he was underweight. We tried everything we could to get him to gain. We took him to McDonald's a lot. But he remained thin and underweight. He can no longer eat McDonald's food due to food restrictions. Guess what? He has gained a lot more weight without eating "unhealthy, high fat" food.

On occasion, McDonald's ran out of a toy, or forgot to put one in a Happy Meal Box. I felt cheated. I can only imagine how children in San Francisco feel, knowing every other child across America who buys a Happy Meal gets a toy, but they don't. I hope the prices are cheaper since they get cheated, the kids disappointed. And sure, one time they offered a special toy I knew my grandson would like and I bought myself a happy meal every single day for a week just to get him the toys. I'm just that kind of a grandma.

If it weren't for Celiac, and the fact we are no longer able to dine at McDonald's Restaurant, I'd take my family there for dinner to show my support of having the freedom to choose where to eat, in spite of whether or not someone in government deems it healthy or not. And I'd buy a Happy Meal just because I like their cheeseburgers and fries. And I'd have fun with whatever toy they were giving out. If only I could.

Please, people, for the love of....can we just be allowed to make our own decisions, whether they are wise or not? Afterall, God allows us this freedom. Why can't our government?

Where Do They Get These Things?

This sticky note was on my husband's computer this morning.


I had no idea why. One of the kids mentioned something about Facebook.


This was the picture referenced.
The comments that followed:

Chris: Crying? Laughing? Yawning? Insert invisible cheeseburger?
Elisabeth: nom, nom, nom

Guess Elisabeth didn't want him to miss it, so made the cheeseburger visible.

What Time Is It?

Where did October go?

There is a time for everything,
and a season for every activity under heaven:
a time to be born and

a time to die
a time to plant and
a time to pull out what was planted,

There was frost on the pumpkins this week, so I harvested my vegetables and herbs. The kids carved these pumpkins:





a time to kill

Remember the little mouse who scared me?  I had the unfortunate experience, of sitting in silence, after Michael had gone to bed.  SNAP!  Then I heard the mouse trap rock back and forth a couple of times before silence again.  Let me tell you, Michael was awakened almost immediately.

and a time to heal,
Well yes, the dermatologist did a pretty decent job of killing those skin cells, but I am mending nicely.

a time to tear down and a time to build,
Wondering if we should just tear out the old faucet or try to rebuild it.  It wasn't fun finding the area under my kitchen sink flooded.

a time to weep
Elisabeth didn't say whether she cried when her friend backed into her car, crinkling the hood.

and a time to laugh,Skyping with Ethan always makes me laugh.

a time to mourn and a time to dance,
Sarabeth & I did dance when we went out on Thursday

a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
a time to embrace and a time to refrain,

a time to search and a time to give up,
a time to keep and a time to throw away,
I purchased storage bins, and now I have closets to clean, purge, and stuff to store.

a time to tear and a time to mend,
a time to be silent and a time to speak,
Tuesday is the day for us to speak out-by VOTING.

a time to love
I loved the special email I got from Lauren this morning with great news!

and a time to hate,I've hated the incessant political phone calls and non-stop ads in the mail.

a time for war and a time for peace.
Ahh...looking for peace and quiet, Tuesday or Wednesday.  No phone calls or messages telling me how evil this person or that is.

And I'm hoping it will be a season of change.

Change

Sometimes change is good, desired, necessary, welcomed.  Sometimes change is dreaded, resisted-at-all-costs, fought against, or absolutely not what I want.  Regardless of how I feel, change happens continually.  Does anything truly stay the same? 

Hebrews 13:8  Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today, and forever.

I am thankful that God can be trusted, someone I can always count on to be there, a safe place I can go anytime, anywhere.

 

Appointments

What have I been up to? 
Appointments. 
Went with Elisabeth to see an Infectious Disease Specialist-that was interesting.
Visited the Chiropractor, twice.
Came home teary-eyed from the gynecologist, because of his kindness.
Came home teary-eyed from the eye doctor because he raised his voice to me.  He thinks I'm a difficult patient.
Had my nails done, redone, and redone a 3rd time.  The tech said next time I come in, she hopes I'm smiling.  I think she really hopes I don't return. She's tired of fixing her mistakes.
I should have gone with Elisabeth to her MRI.
And with the other Elizabeth to get her blood work.
But I didn't.
Instead I went to the dentist.  He says I need a root canal.  But I'm one of the 3% that doesn't get relief from them.  He recommended I pull the tooth.  And another one too.  I told him I'd think about it.
It's highly unlikely.
Maybe after my dermatologist appointment, I'll schedule that surgery I've canceled twice.

Just trying to get what I can, while I still have a choice in health & personal care.

Would You, Could You, In A House

It's been confirmed.  Michael saw it with his own two eyes.  It's not a strange creature.   There's a mouse in my house.  Did I really say I'd get a cat?  Or a kitten?

It's Friday! It's Friday.

I used to get so excited when Friday came.  I was gleeful!!!  That was then.  This is now.  Friday seems like just about every other day of the week.  I get up, have my coffee.  Browse the internet.  Shower.  Get dressed for the day.  Nothing.

Really, this is sort of how it goes.  But today was different.  I bounced out of bed.  Guzzled my coffee as quickly as I could.  Jumped in the shower in record time.  Only dried my hair half-way.  Rush, rush, rush.  All of this, just so I could make it to a doctor appointment with Elisabeth at 11:00 a.m.  Pathetic.

It was all worth it.  When I got home, Ethan was here.  I know now, why we go through menopause.  At some point, you are just too old to keep up with your children.  That is when you have grandchildren.  You are absolutely exhausted at the end of the day.  And you say good-bye to them-tearfully, but joyfully.

Sleep Tight, Don't Let The Bedbugs Bite

Long, long ago, back when I tucked my children in bed each night, I'd lie down with them.  This was after baths and reading books.  The light was turned off and I'd tell them a story.  At times, I simply recounted an event from earlier in the day, or embellished a tale from when they were younger.  When I was feeling creative, I'd make up an adventure or fantasy, most often about a little boy named Christopher & his big sister Christina.

One story, which varied each time it was told, involved the children going into a closet to play and shutting the door.  When the door was opened, they would find themselves transported elsewhere for an exciting excursion. I would make the story up as we laid there, in hopes their little eyes would close before I finished.  My goal was to get them to fall asleep. Sometimes it had the opposite effect, and the anticipation would build to the point that they were too excited to sleep. If I was in a hurry to get them to bed, or simply could not think where to take the story, I'd leave them with a cliff hanger and the hope they'd go to bed early the next night.  I'd leave the room with a smile, knowing their imaginations were stirred.  After a few moments standing outside their door, I'd hear whispers of their inspired imagery.

Occasionally (or should I say often,) when I was very tired, too tired to imagine, too sleepy to recall an anecdote, too exhausted to be creative, I'd sing a silly song or recite a fairy tale.  "Sing a song of sixpence" and "Goldilocks & The Three Bears" were my usual  go-to's.  For fun, I'd change up the words to see how awake they were or just to hear them giggle and exclaim, "no, no, no, it's 'a pocketful full of rye' not pie."

Last Saturday, Ethan spent the night.  Hilary & Elisabeth tried to get him to go to bed.  They laid down with him, and let him call his mom on the phone to say, "BYE."  The usual things he does at home.  (Only at home, he calls his grandpa & grandma to say good-night.)  But Ethan would not stay in bed.  When he is in his own bed, after saying good-night to his grandpa and me, his mom & I will take time to catch up.  Often, as he listens to us chatter, he falls asleep easily. I hoped by telling him a bedtime story in the dark it might have the same effect. I chose the story of  "The Three Bears", not knowing how meaningful it would be, but hoping for peaceful dreams.

O began, "Once upon a time..." and all of the sudden, I could not remember how the story goes.  Had it been that long since I'd told this tale?  Oh my!  Who can forget a simple fairy tale that she has repeated a thousand times or more?

I made the best attempt I could.  By the second retelling, I think I remembered most of it.  Ethan giggled as I did my best impersonation of Papa Bear in his great, gruff voice and Baby Bear's high squeaky voice.  And guess what?  He finally fell asleep.

I smiled as I remembered how often I used this tale to help Christopher remember to speak in a voice more like Mama Bear when he'd get excited, rather than his Baby Bear squeal.  I always wondered if he made the connection that the mama bear voice was a natural voice (for me, anyway) instead of an exaggerated gruff or shrieking one.  Quite possibly he was scarred for life believing he had to sound like a Mama Bear instead of the Baby Bear.  At least he didn't suffer from gender confusion.  Oh wait....never mind.

(Sorry Christopher.)

Creepy

I was headed for bed, really I was.  Out of the corner of my eye, I see something crawling on the carpet.  I'm just closing windows on the computer, to shut 'er down when it happened.  I turned towards the moving as I saw it scurry under the couch.  Well, maybe not scurry.  Honestly, it looked like it flew, but not even a moth would fly away from light into the dark recesses of the unknown.  That is more a hiding place for creepy crawly things.  Or a frightened mouse.  I swear, if I see a mouse, I'm getting a cat.

If this was Arizona, I would have guessed it to be a roach.  I've seen monstrous cockroaches, more than 2 inches long that stand over an inch off the ground.  It is hard to kill them, as the boogers are fast and crunchy to crush.

I just know as soon as my feet hit the ground to get up, whatever is under the couch will come running out where my barefeet are.  It is difficult to type and watch the spot where I last saw movement.  But if I fall asleep, sitting in this chair, what if it crawls up here?

What?  Did I see something again?  Maybe I am imagining things.  My eyes are playing tricks on me.  What am I going to do???

If you never hear from me again, you'll know something happened.

Personal Space, It's A Personal Thing

Before Lauren & Christopher packed up their belongings and headed off to Korea, their liaison attempted to explain some of the cultural differences they would experience.  "Be prepared to have your personal space invaded every day. The Koreans have no such thing as personal space the way Americans do."

The first week in Seoul, they began to grasp what this meant.  While waiting to check out of the Apple Store, other customers began cutting in front of them, as if they were invisible.  It was then they remembered advice given earlier: "if your body isn't touching the person in front of you, the Koreans won't think you are actually standing in line."  They quickly cozied up to their Korean neighbors.

I am not unlike most Americans.  I need personal space.  I've joked before that an airplane is the only place I would willingly choose to sit so close to a perfect stranger.  With only an armrest between you, random body parts of other passengers frequently cross over the imaginary line that runs between the seats.  I try to become inwardly smaller, tucking my arms in my lap-especially when sitting in the middle seat.  I assume my seatmates have the same need for space.  I am acutely aware of where my space begins and ends.  I am not a touchy-feely kind of person.  I don't want to sit so that we constantly brush up against one another.

Have I mentioned how much I love Southwest Airlines?  I'm free to move about the country, free to choose my own seat.  When a flight is full, as most are, it doesn't much matter.  Occasionally, the plane is only half full, and it is delightful to freely move about in my seat.  My last flight with Southwest Airlines was delightful.

I recognized right away this would be one of those free to move about flights.  Having forgotten to check in 24 hours ahead, I figured I'd be one of the last to board.  I was, but I still managed a Group A board pass.  There was no Group B or C.  I was excited. Rather than grab a coveted aisle seat, I chose a window.  Knowing I wouldn't have anyone next to me, I thought I'd snap a few pictures from my luxurious seat.

I picked a spot half-way back in the plane.  I should have gone to an empty row, but instead squeezed past a gentleman in the aisle seat.  I pulled out my camera and snapped a picture. 

I was rather enjoying myself until I noticed a woman pushing her way into our row.  The flight attendant noticed her also.  "This flight is only about 60 percent full.  You can sit anywhere you want.  Take an aisle seat, or a window in any row.  You don't have to sit next to anybody."  I expected the woman to heed the flight attendant's advice.  Instead, she plopped herself right in the middle seat.  I immediately felt encroached upon.

I hesitated for only a moment, before gathering my belongings.  "Excuse me," I said, "I'm going to sit elsewhere." 

She reached over, touched my arm and tried to reassure me, "I'm a nice person, really I am."  It was hard enough to maneuver around two passengers without her trying to hold me back. 

"I want an aisle seat," I lied.  But truthfully, I just wanted any seat where I didn't have to be touching anyone.

"You won't even give me a chance?"  Her desperate last attempt, before releasing my arm.  I am free to move about the cabin, lady....and I did.  Seat 17C, on the aisle, 2 rows back.  The entire row to myself.

I couldn't help but notice how this woman leaned into the gentleman for the duration of the flight.  I surmised that she was most certainly a touchy-feely person; probably afraid to fly.  She needed to be touching the people next to her in order to feel secure.  I, on the other hand, needed my personal space. It's a personal thing.  I couldn't help but wonder about the poor man I left behind.  Maybe the two of them liked becoming more personal.

It Was Bound To Happen, They Told Me It Wouldn't Last

We've been together for 26 plus years.  Twenty-six!  That is a long time for a relationship, a long time to be faithful.  You've been there for me through 5 children...funny that the youngest only recently  moved out.  We've had our ups and downs.  There were times I wished you were different, times I wanted to trade you in for something better. But because you were good to me, I didn't.  Mostly I loved you.  I loved that you were always the same, dependable you.

Today, something changed.  You let me down.  You were unfaithful. Did you not like sharing our home with my mother-in-law?  Were you feeling old and decided to go out with a bang?  What caused your infidelity?  Honsestly, I don't even care. 

Twenty-six years is a long time to be together, but I've come to a decision.  I'm not going to work on this.  It doesn't matter why you quit trying.  It is time we parted ways.  It won't be hard to replace you.  I have offers pouring in already.

Right now, I miss you.  I looked forward to spending time with you this afternoon.  I feel only a twinge of sadness.  Just yesterday, I imagined the adventure of something fresh and new.  I'm a tiny bit excited.

For now, I'll say good-bye.  So long, Mr. Dryer.  You were good while you lasted.  I hope your replacement will last as long as you did.  I doubt it.  They don't make dryers like they used to.

Truth Needs To Be Heard

I read critically.  I refuse to be spoon fed "news" as truth. My gag reflex kicks in the moment I taste a hint of hypocrisy or distorted truth.  It doesn't matter if it is liberal, conservative, trendy, or fringe writers.  News used to be a reporting of events and happenings.  Today it seems, everyone has an opinion.  News reports are tweaked and twisted with clever words turning facts, even lies, into propaganda. 

Growing up, I trusted adults.  I trusted what I heard on the news or read in a newspaper.  I knew the difference between an editorial and a news report.  Those in authority were held in high esteem.  If a president had proclaimed, "I did not have sex with that woman," it could be taken literally.  In today's world, nothing is as it seems.  Truth is much harder to find.  I read and listen critically.  It can be overwhelming and take on a cynical side if I'm not careful.  I check facts and resources in search of the truth.

I was reading this text today:

"Consider the quarry from which you were mined, the rock from which you were cut!  Yes, think about your ancestors Abraham and Sarah, from whom you came.  You worry at being so small and few, but Abraham was only one when I called him..."

What?  No way was Abraham one when God called him.  He was an adult when God told him he'd make him a great nation.  But actually God had planned for this even before Abraham was born, back before he was even Abram.  What do you mean You called him when he was only one....oh, you don't mean one as in one years of age.  You mean one as in one person.  Okay.  You should have said that.

It's time to get a better resource, apparently God's Word, the bible, isn't reliable.

Side note: I don't believe this version is still in print.  I've had it for years, and find passages are sometimes poorly written, distorting the message.  And that is my excuse for sounding a tad critical.

You Capture-Flowers

For more You Capture Pictures:

Thunk Thursday

So what does Russian taste like?

A Lot Of Miles Left

Years ago, Michael decided our vehicles should last until they had over 100,000 miles.


Because of his great success, he vowed to keep our cars until they'd hit the 200,000 mark. I happened to be driving the Acura yesterday when this goal was achieved.


Don't ask why the brake light is on, or about that other yellow light that is illuminated all of the time. Give the car a break. It's a little tired. It's been driven 200,0003 miles.


Yes, I was driving down the highway at exactly 75 mph...ok, closer to 80. But how could I miss this momentous mile marker and not make a memory?

Michael mentioned the other day that he hoped I'd keep my car until it has at least 200,000 miles on the odometer. I about fell over laughing.

At the rate I drive, I will be exactly 81 years old when my car rolls over to 200,000 miles.


Can you imagine that?

Haha...It's A Cat-Face

You can't tell me God doesn't have a sense of humor, as well as creative genius.


Tell me that isn't the funniest face you've ever seen on the back of a spider.
(If you click on the photo, you can make it larger.)

Okay, call me crazy. I just checked on my spider friend. He's still hanging out. I took another picture of him. And I laughed out loud.

Seriously, is that a smile or what?

CYE

Last week, the night before I left, Hilary sent me a text.

"Mom, check your email." Hmmm...I was curious since I hadn't spoken with her all week. I opened it up. A picture of herself opened up. I had to study it for a moment to figure out what exactly she was wanted me to see. A new haircut? Hair color?


Oh wait...a tiny diamond stud.

As Christopher said after he pierced his ears and eybrow, "it's just a college thing, ma. Be glad it isn't a tatoo." I am. And it was.

September 11, 2010

As I strolled through the airport, images of a high-jacked plane crashing into the twin towers was aired on t.v. monitors around the terminal. It felt funny to be flying on the 9th anniversary of that calamitous day of September 11th. I've mentioned before, I was in Arizona to attend my 30th High School Reunion. I also spent time visiting my parents, siblings and their families. We went out on my sister's boat, for the last time, as she is moving to California. My mom received some news from her doctor that she needs additional testing that we hope results in nothing serious. Emotionally I was torn in leaving. I missed my family back at home, but I would also miss my family in Arizona.

I wasn't the only one flying that day. My mother-in-law had boarded a plane earlier for a get together with her daughters. She was very excited. Two of her daughters were flying in from other parts of the country so they could all be in one place together.

Kate & Charley boarded a plane in Portland, after saying good-bye to their 7 children. Flying to Denver, with another stopover in Frankfurt, and arriving in Kiev, they would reach their final destination: a Ukraine orphanage where they hoped the adoption of two 2 special little girls with Downs Syndrome would go smoothly.

Passengers, all traveling for different reasons, not unlike those who'd boarded the fateful aircrafts 9 years earlier, but never reached their destinations. It was a poignant moment as I reflected on life around me.

I wished I'd taken more photographs, said I love you more. Would my friends and family think I was weird if I sent out a mass text message, reminding them how much I love them?

When our plane finally landed in Denver, a flight attendant came on the loud speaker and announced she'd like us all to take a moment of silence on this September 11th. And then this happened:




When the song ended, everyone clapped and cheered. Can I just say, I love Southwest Airlines?

It's Been Fun

Until we meet again.

The Reunion

I spent hours agonizing over what I should wear to the reunion. Really. I honestly thought, having had 8 months to get ready for it, that I would lose a few pounds, look fab, wear a stunning outfit and wow everyone. Seriously folks, did anyone else think the same?

Hahahahaha...let's see, I didn't lose weight or wow anyone. But hey, I could still wear a nice outfit and have great hair, right? (If your hairdresser doesn't get scissor happy the week before.)

I think it was 106 degrees as I walked from the car, to the resort. I could feel trickles of sweat beneath my hair. Any minute my smooth locks would be sticking to my head or curling up. I needed to get inside to air conditioning quick. My fab heels weren't helping, especially up 2 flights of stairs.

A handful of people were taking photos outside. Not wanting to remain in the heat any longer, I kept my gaze for the door so as not to make eye contact with someone I might recognize.

The moment finally arrived. I was amongst my peers-the class of 1980. But who were these people standing around? I didn't see any of my former classmates, just a bunch of older folks. Holy cow! I didn't recognize a single one of them. And I don't believe they recognized the sweaty lady, who was more than a few pounds heavier, straight red hair instead of tight blonde curls.

It's a good thing we were given name tags with our senior photo attached. Straining my eyes hoping for a glimmer of recollection to the mored aged faces, I was left with the belief that maybe we could qualify for the senior discount.

Flashbacks 3

These pics were taken in good ol' photobooths. Haven't seen one for awhile. Maybe they are extinct. Back in the day, I was amazed by the technology.

Really not so different from digital. While at the mall, you want a snapshot of the moment. Instead of using a cell phone, you hop in a curtained booth, freeze a pose, wait for a series of camera clicks, hang out 3 minutes, and voila! You hold nearly-instant photographs in your hand, rather than on your phone. You can quick share by handing them to whomever is standing nearby.

Sweet.

In the first series I must have been 15. That cute kid is my nephew. He has a baby of his own now. I'm wondering what I did after the first picture. Poor thing, sitting on my lap one moment, the next? Did I drop him to the floor or push his head down?

Maybe that is why I look so serious.

From experience, I learned if I smiled to too big the flash off my teeth was blinding. Talk about a shiny grill...guess I was a little before my time.

Here I am with the same nephew, Michael. I loved that kid and spent a lot of time with him.
I have no idea whose pickup truck I'm sitting in, but just about everyone drove a pickup truck in high school.

When I see Michael today, I'm going to take my picture with him.

Getting Ready.

Sitting at the airport, ready to flashback. Can't get my pics to upload. Sigh. Maybe later.

Flashbacks

Because I'm headed to my 30th High School Reunion this weekend, thought I'd revisit the past. This is how my classmates may remember me.

Back when I was in the 4th grade, my family moved from one small town to another. We were the new kids on the block. We rented a home with a cool, wheelchair accessible ramp out the back door. It made running outside a quick exit, with no stairs to slow us down. I don't recall who first noticed, but one cold winter night, ice had formed on the ramp. This created a spectacular downhill sliding surface.

We happened out the door this particular night, because my parents were preoccupied. They had invited guests over for dinner. As soon as the meal ended and the adults were content visiting in the living room, we slipped out back. Literally. My sister, who loved ice skating, thought that the ice should be deeper. It was so cold, that when we poured water down the ramp it froze almost instantly. It was exciting! Bucket after bucket cascaded down, until we had one of the finest ice slides ever created by kids.

Eagerly, but politely, we took turns sliding down our enormous hill-until my brother's competitive nature emerged. We ran back into the house, ever so quietly, in search of our slickest, smoothest shoes. We were going to race. I was the last one to find an old pair of boots, that were several sizes too big. My older siblings, after several runs had nearly perfected their speed by the time I snuck back outside. After what seemed forever, it was finally my turn.

Greg and I poised at the top of the slope. On your mark, get set, go! I was ahead for a split second, then my brother pushed ahead. With that push I fell face first onto the ice. I don't recall much after that. I do remember blood dripping down, and my sister holding me back from going to my mom so we wouldn't get into trouble. I think little sister went screaming to my parents and the rest is sort of blurry.

My lip was split open and it hurt pretty bad. My parents were more concerned with missing front teeth. I was whisked away, into the dark of night, to an emergency dentist. I came home with a fat lip and shiny new teeth in a sterling silver color. The next day, my brother found two teeth sticking out of the ice.

That Christmas I sang, "All I want for Christmas is my two front teeth." I sang it every year. The nickname "tinsel teeth" stuck. I endured much teasing and laughter because of my metallic smile. At times I felt like a freak. I learned to smile with my mouth closed until I was 18.

I do believe God used this as a character building event in my life, creating compassion and tenderness into my heart towards others.

FlashBack

I'm NEVER getting my hair cut again. I know, I've said this before here, and here. I've even given an explanation of whyI believe my hair is such an obsession. But this time I mean it. Maybe I should say I'm never getting it cut again in July or August, or right before an event. Something about the summer turns my hairdresser into a maniacal, scissor-happy producer of bad hair months.

I should have suspected this lunacy, when she told me about the latest craze. Some daytime soap star was sporting a new version of the 1970's shag and everyone was asking for it. Everyone but me.

Last month, I went in to see my hairdresser. I wanted just a trim. I finally had my hair exactly the way I wanted, just a few dry ends. I was preparing for my 30th High School Reunion. As so many of us do, I thought I'd lose weight and look amazing. That didn't happen. I reasoned that if nothing else, I could at least have fabulous hair. Back in high school, I did NOT have fab hair.

(That's me on the far right.)

Fearing the possibility of a bad haircut, I went for a trial run. It came out perfect! So yesterday, I went back for the final trim before heading to Phoenix this Friday. What happened??? She completely and totally forgot that it had taken us months to get my hair grown into LONG and almost no layers. Where did these short wispy things come from? I'm going to my 30th reunion...I don't want my hair to look like it did 30 years ago.


Sigh. Never, never again. Someone please remind me of this next summer when I want my hair to look like a million bucks.

In honor of my 30th high school reunion, this week I'm posting old pics every day. You'll have to bear with me, since a lot of the pics of me are with random boys. Apparently I spent a lot of time with boys-at least in pictures.

New Adventure

"Emily can't breathe, can't breathe, can't breathe...calm down Emily, you're okay, you're okay, you're okay...Emily can't breathe...calm down Emily..."



We met Emily last Saturday, when friends of Michael offered to take us & Ethan boating. Emily is 18 & autistic. She was excited to meet new people, seemed to enjoy the peaceful sights and sounds, wore a life jacket and a pony tail for the first time, but panicked at the uncertainty of her new adventure. At one point she seemed to get stuck on the idea that she could not breathe, yet also seemed to realize she just needed to calm down and life would be all right again.

This morning, her words sputtered repetitiously through my head, "I can't breathe, can't breathe, can't breathe...calm down, you're okay, you're okay, you're okay..."

We were headed up North to release Hilary into the wild of college/dorm life.



"Emily can't breathe, can't breathe, can't breathe...calm down Emily, you're okay, you're okay, you're okay...Emily can't breathe..." While Emily had moments of panic, Ethan loved every bit of boating life.


Adorned in his life jacket, he felt safe and secure. He laughed at the thrill of full throttle, as the wind whipped and the water splashed.

He boldly sat in the captain's chair, taking full control of the boat, navigating through deep waters. He knew his Grandpa was there to help.

Hilary's adventure is not unlike our boat ride. In spite of the tightness in my chest, I will be okay. My prayer for Hilary is that she will feel safe, secure, and confidant, knowing the Lord is her life jacket as she courageously steers through her new adventure in life, filled with thrills, new experiences, splashes of fun and ferocious learning.


Hilary is not alone in this boat.

Enjoy the ride, Hilary, we'll all be okay.

Love Never Fails

I stayed up late finishing this puzzle. I noticed something interesting. Do you see it?


It's there as plain as day.



Now can you make it out?



Lauren & Christopher.

Tomorrow is Lauren's birthday. Head over to her & Christopher's blog and wish her a happy birthday, will you?

Happy Birthday Lauren!

Hmmm...

Have you ever had God ask you to do something that seems odd? You say, "okay, I'll do that." But at the same time you think, "hmmm...I know there must be a purpose. This is weird. I don't understand it, but I'll do it nonetheless. But, this is a strange request."

I imagine Abraham felt something similar when God told him to sacrifice his son Isaac on the altar. "Okay, God. But, geez, I waited a very long time for your promise that I would have a son. In fact, so long that I sort of took matters into my own hands to help you out. Then, when I least expect it, like when I'm very old, and my wife is like really old, you give us this kid Isaac. And now you want me to sacrifice him??? Like I said, okay. But I really don't get it."

So, my response is: "okay God. I'll do it. And shortly, I hope to be amazed as to WHY you want me to do this."

Thunk Thursday on Friday

When I purchased my iron, I laughed when I read the attached tag:

DO NOT IRON CLOTHING WHILE WEARING

Who would do that? If somebody is dumb enough to iron their clothes while wearing them, somebody is going to get burned and has nobody to blame but herself.

Hello. My name is Somebody.