Flowers, a little late

Just as parents are kind to their children,
the LORD is kind to all who worship him,
because he knows we are made of dust.

We humans are like grass or wild flowers that quickly bloom.
But a scorching wind blows, and they quickly wither to be forever forgotten.

The LORD is always kind to those who worship him,
and he keeps his promises to their descendants
who faithfully obey him.

My Trip

When I read about the Virtuous Woman, I think of my mom. She's successful at all she puts her hand to and works diligently at it.  She's smart, clever, and creative.  She's always busy, but never stressed and hurried.

Growing up, I knew there was nothing my mom couldn't do.

A good woman is hard to find, and worth far more than diamonds.

Way back when I was in third grade, it was common to go home for lunch.  One day, after walking home I mentioned to my mom that it was my day to share a science experiment with the class.  This was back before take-home folders and when making 25 copies of notes was more arduous than hand-written ones.  So kids were just supposed to remember these things-which apparently I didn't.

Mom didn't flip out on me.  Not only did she make lunch for me and my siblings, but she helped me come up with a cool, fun science project. We played in talcum powder and water and I knew I had the smartest mom in the whole world.  She could have been angry, but she wasn't.

Yesterday was Mom's Birthday.

As soon as the cake was set in front of her, she magically turned 17 again.  (Yes, she did switch those candles.)

 

This is my dad and mom, me and my 2 sisters and 2 nieces.

I flew to Phx. to celebrate Mom's birthday with her.   This is my wonderful sister-in-law and brother who always let me stay at their house and play with their girls. 

Happy Birthday Mom!

I'm On Vacation

Did I mention I'm on vacation?

In the Arizona Desert

Watching my nieces & nephews swim

I left my family at home to fend for themselves. They are fending quite nicely. Wondering if I will have a job when I get back.

You Capture-Games

I took these pics through the chain link fence.

Grandpa giving E his water bottle.

Safe!

Oh The Things Kids Say

I phoned my brother the other day.  His 8 year old daughter answered the phone.  We chatted for 23 minutes.  I have no idea where my brother was, I never talked to him.  I do know where my sister-in-law was.  Oh the tales a talkative kid can tell.

To be fair, I did ask about her first trip to Disneyland.  Her favorite thing was Space Mountain, no Thunder Mountain was more fun.  TinkerBell has a secret home and a secret friend.  Leah also told me that getting her ears pierced didn't hurt, but Tara cried.  Nobody noticed her pretty pink earrings but Gramma.  Tara was banned from the computer because she didn't clean up her messes, but she got to use the computer today.  Only Tara didn't really clean up, she just sat in her room coloring in her color book.

I could hear Tara in the background during most of the conversation, but not her daddy.  Leah's daddy was taking them swimming, even though the water might be cold.  That was when she told me her mommy wasn't home.  And the reason she wasn't home?  Because her daddy cheated on her mommy.

I about died laughing.  If I didn't have 5 kids, who'd also been little once, I might have been shocked.  But I knew there was a logical reason for her to say this.  I knew her daddy hadn't actually "cheated" on her mommy.  I know my brother better than that. 

I probably shouldn't have, but I couldn't help but mention it to my sister-in-law when I talked to her the next day.  I'm not sure she found it as funny as I did.

I sometimes wonder what secret things Ethan would say if he could.

Change

Who thought it would be so hard?  Or so exciting and exhilarating?  I like the variety change brings in my life.  I don't like the adjustments that come with change.

Take technology, it is always changing, evolving into something "better."  (At least that is the claim by Techies.)  How amazed we all were when cell phones first emerged.  I loved having a phone available for use on trips in case of an emergency.  I got used to carrying a phone with me everywhere I went, so I was accessible in case someone needed me.  Then I enjoyed the freedom of text messages, taking pictures, internet access.  But with each new phone, I experience operator frustration.  I can't figure out how to adjust the volume, add new numbers, or how to use the latest feature.  Once I am comfortable with the new gadget, I don't ever want to change again.  That is, until something better comes along, or the old one is dropped in the toilet.

I change to the new, but complain when life doesn't function exactly as before.  I long for the old, the comfortable, what once seemed easy.  The new might be better, but I struggle.  What once took a moment, now takes twice as long because I haven't learned or figured out the new.  It is cumbersome.  I wonder if I made a mistake in opting for better.  Was the old one really that bad?  I become more agitated when I don't get a choice, like when blogger makes changes that I didn't ask for.  I struggle to upload or format photos that used to be a piece of cake.  I curse those in charge.  (Not really, but I'm sure some do.)

I read in the bible how God chose Moses to bring deliverance to the Children of Israel.  They were slaves.  After several setbacks, they were miraculously set free and dined on supernatural provisions.  Yet it wasn't long before they complained and desired to be back in Egypt, back to their slavery.  I never understood how that could happen.  Why would anyone want to go back to their days of hardship?  Why wouldn't they embrace the new?

I think I understand now.  I don't like to be pushed out of my comfort zone, not even for something better.  I murmur and complain in much the same way the Children of Israel did.  Slavery was more comfortable than having to learn a new way of life.

I don't want to hold on to the old, when the new offers promise for a better future, and greater achievements.  Change comes with a price, but sometimes I'm not sure I want to pay it.  Whether it's a new job, moving to a new city, or a changed relationship, it requires effort.  I'm pushed out of lazy mode into careful deliberation, and struggle through learning the new.

I think this is exactly why God prompts change.  When we aren't willing to accept change, it sometimes feels like the rug is pulled out from underneath us.  When everything remains the same, it is easy to remain comfortable, to be lazy and quit putting for effort.  We become selfish and self-centered.  We don't take think about the world around us.  In a  life of ease, we can manage without God.  We forget to depend on Him and choose to just go about our business.  It's usually not to exciting or thrilling, but it's easy.  Change is hard, but pushing through frees us from our lazy self and offers greater potential, more promise and opportunity.

Randoms

Random Thoughts in list form
1.  We moved Hilary out of her dorm in just 2 trips to the car.

2.  Grocery shopping is more fun when George Strait sings in the background.

3.  My family laughed at me last night.  I made bacon, eggs, pancakes, & hash browns.  Michael commented that he asks for this all of the time and wonders why I don't make it more often.  I denied this, stating emphatically that he has never asked me to make breakfast food for dinner.  When my brain feels foggy, I do ask if he has any ideas for dinner.  He occasionally "suggests" bacon & eggs.  I don't classify that as "asking" me to make this for dinner.  His response was something like:

"Really?  You thought I'd suggest something I didn't want to eat???  Do I ever suggest that you make brussel sprouts or macaroni & cheese?   Hahahaha....." Go ahead and laugh, family, but it makes total sense to me.

 Just for clarification, I honestly believed he was suggesting bacon and eggs as an easy-to-fix meal, not necessarily because he "wanted" that to eat.  I cook things all of the time that I wouldn't necessarily choose to eat mainly because someone else likes it or because it is an easy-to-cook meal.

4.  Ethan loves baseball.

5.  I should be very careful uploading baseball photos to Ethan's Ipad.  He knows instantly when his videos have been deleted and has an instant meltdown, locking himself in the bathroom, in spite of me telling him "Grandma will fix it!"

 6.  We finally celebrated Christina's big birthday.

7.  The birthday dinner with the Men in Black (backwards hats.)

These Are The Rules

For those of you who haven't had the chance to play baseball with Ethan, let me share the rules with you.

1.  The pitcher must mimic a professional, complete with leg lift, when throwing the ball.

2.  The batter must wear a helmet.

 

  

3. If at all possible, a catcher and or umpire should squat behind the batter.  Before the pitcher may pitch, the catcher must pull his imaginary face mask over his face.  Notice the last picture...Ethan is demonstrating how he plays baseball with only his stuffed animals as players.  Mr. Dinosaur is the ump, and the dog is the dog catcher.

 

4.  When the batter hits the ball, he is required to run randomly.  One of the other players must catch the ball and tag the batter.  Helmets and hats must be exchanged, so the players can switch positions.

I nearly died laughing when I saw how well Ethan's little "friends" played by his rules.

 

The pitcher has the glove on and is ready to throw.

 

The batter has on the helmet and is ready to hit.

He swings, he runs, he scores!  Time to switch positions.

The pitcher is ready.

 

Helmet on, the batter is ready.

  The pitch is thrown.

The batter strikes out!

Happy Day!

I ran across this pic the other day.  In this photo, my mom is the same age as I am now.  I mean, like exactly 9 weeks after her 49th birthday this was taken.  I had my 49th birthday 9 weeks ago today.  Why does she look so much younger?

By the time she was my age, Mom had raised 4 children to adulthood, had 8 grandchildren, went back to school, earned her degree and became a teacher.  While working full time, she also received her Master Degree, volunteered her time and talents, spent two years out-of-the-country teaching abroad...and the list goes on.  Twenty-two years later she is as busy as ever.

Jesus tells a parable in Matthew 25 about the Kingdom of God.  He says it is like a man who travels to a far away country, leaving talents with his servants.  To one he gives 5, another 2, another 1.  My mom is one of God's servants who received many talents.  God knew He could trust her to use those talents and multiply them.

Not only does she serve in her church and community, but she has always gone above and beyond as a mom and grandmother.  She has always treated us as individuals, considering our own unique personalities, gifts and talents.  I marvel that even at age 70, she gives weekly art lessons to one of her 7 year old granddaughter. Four of her grandsons have lived with her and Dad, including my own son during his last year of college.  She richly gives and invest her time in the lives of  others. 

Even stray animals seem to find their way to her home, knowing she will feed them and care for them. Her compassion naturally extends to animals too.

My mom is truly multi-talented.  Her creative, generous spirit is a reflection of the Father.  I can't wait to see what God gives Mom to do when she gets to heaven.  "His lord said, ‘Well done, good and faithful servant; you were faithful over a few things, I will make you ruler over many things. Enter into the joy of your lord."

I love you Mom!  Happy Mother's Day.

When I Am Old

When I am old, first thing in the morning, I'll slip on a pair of high heeled shoes.  Even when I'm wearing a silky night gown, just like my grandma did.

When I am old, I will enjoy a fresh cup of strong coffee with real cream and sugar.  Grandma drank her coffee weak.  It smelled delicious but looked more like tea rather than the rich, smooth brew I will drink.

When I am old, I want to look pretty.  I will fix my hair every day, even if nobody cares. I'll change the color and style often, just to keep life interesting.  I'll wear nothing but fancy clothes, even if I have no place to go.

When I'm old, I will drive a great big Cadillac.  Or maybe I'll still own my little yellow car.  Either way, I will drive a bright color vehicle-no silver, or gray or white for me.  I remember my grandma drove a big car, like she owned the freeway.

I'm not sure about hobbies, but when I am old, I will be on a mission.  I'll be part of the church ladies and stay busy.  I'll blog about more important things than the weather.  Grandma never had a chance to blog or use the internet.  I'll bet she would have loved it. 

I Need More Kids

I sometimes laugh as I hear mothers discuss the trials of teaching their children to become independent and responsible.  Tales and threats of forcing a kid to walk to school after missing the bus, having to take a lower grade for forgotten homework, or letting junior go hungry when he forgets his lunch.  Are they truly motivated by the lofty ideal in parenting or are they merely annoyed at the inconvenience of childishness, taking the easy way out?

Whenever the call came saying my child forgot  his lunch, a book report, gym shorts, or whatever... or I received a text asking "can you bring 2 dozen cupcakes to my 6th hour class" or "please call the school and tell them I'm sick," "I have cramps, can you come get me?" as a good, in line for the mother-of-the-year award mom, I immediately dropped everything and ran to help my child. 

It didn't matter that the baby needed a nap, that a load of clothes would be forgotten in the washing machine until the next day, that the floor needed to be vacuumed, that I had errands to run, or that  we were out of milk and I needed to go grocery shopping.  It never mattered what the immediate need of the child was, it was always  way more important than whatever I was doing at that moment.  Was I annoyed at the inconvenience or agitated at the irresponsibility of their forgetfulness? 

Are you kidding me?  I delighted in every single interruption.  Hopping in the car and driving 20 minutes to school each way was way more fun than laundry.  Not only did the days scenery change, but I often had the chance to chat with another adult in the school office about "these forgetful kids."

I guess that makes me guilty for taking the easy way out.  I was selfish and rescued my kids by delivering their homework to them.  Other moms hated me.  They totally didn't get it.  They heard stories of how I would sometimes deliver a hot lunch to my kid, handing it off as they walked into the cafeteria-usually fast food from the local burger joint with fries to share.  Other moms didn't know that I purposely had not made lunches that morning so I had an excuse to grab a burger for myself. 

I had an excuse as to why I couldn't do lots of unpleasant tasks.  I didn't have time to make phone calls for the PTA, because I needed my phone free in case one of kids needed me.  I never had time to iron clothes, as I was barely able to keep up with the 3 loads of  laundry I washed each day.  When the call came, laundry could wait.  Ironing could always wait.

Gosh, I miss those days.

Lists

Do I make lists?  No!  I despise lists.  I do not enjoy being able to check off things I've done.  I get no satisfaction seeing all of the little check marks.  I hate lists.  I suspect, my husband, rather likes lists.  Michael puts sticky notes all over his computer so he knows what needs to be done and when.  He is charmed by his organizational skills.  Years ago, he saw his wife was a bit overwhelmed.  He imagined how wonderful it would be if he could make her life easier by helping her become organized.

In our kitchen hung a whiteboard.  It stood above our corded phone, making it simple to jot down phone messages.  It was highly visible.  One morning, before leaving for work, Michael created a to-do list for me.  What a darling. He mentioned that as each task was completed, I could simply erase it from the marker board.  How accomplished would I feel at the end of the day, when the board was wiped clean?
 
This went on for several days.  Each day, the list grew, as hubby joyously added to it.  Occasionally and very reluctantly, I would wipe off a line or two.  Every evening, upon returning home, Michael would inspect the board.  By the third or forth day, he casually remarked, "Your board is getting full.  What did you do today?  I see you didn't get that phone call made or my shirts ironed. Some of these things have been on there since the first day."  The man clearly had not noticed the furor brewing beneath the surface.

"Of course I got those things done!"  I snapped.  "You wrote them on the board, didn't you????"  Still clueless, he continued with his questions.

"Then why didn't you erase them?" He was becoming dangerously close to me unleashing a torrent of hostility, but I held back.

"I was just a little bit busy with ironing, making phone calls, cooking breakfast, lunch, and dinner, changing diapers, and taking care of the kids to come back in here to erase this stupid board."  I didn't actually use the word stupid, but I did enunciate every word crisply and sharply to get my point across.

"But wouldn't it be easier to see what you still had left to do if you erased the tasks you've already done?  That way nothing will get lost in the middle of the list."

I honestly don't remember what else was said that night.  The poor man had no idea how much I hate lists.  But suffice it to say, he has never suggested I make a to-do list  He knows without a doubt that  I find no satisfaction in crossing off all I accomplish in a day-especially when the list is written by someone else.

Thoughts Of A Child Part 2

(Two years ago, I started this series but never finished it.  The first part is here.)

The family sat down to eat dinner. "Daddy, can I read my book to you?  It's my homework so I have to read it to someone."

"Sure, sweetie. After dinner." He turned to Melanie. "How was your day?"

"Busy, but great. We finished up at church and are ready for Easter." She contemplated asking her husband why he was late getting home, but decided not to press him.

"I had a bear of a day today," Bill volunteered. "On the way home, I got pulled over. I was doing twelve over...a lousy 12 miles over the speed limit and she gave me a ticket. I was doing 67 in a 55. The ticket is a hundred and twenty-six dollars. One hundred and twenty-six lousy dollars!!!  Can you believe it?"

Madison interrupted, "is a hundred dollars a lot, Daddy? That's a lot of money, huh." Bill had almost forgot the children were listening.

"Yes, it is a lot of money. But I have to pay it. That's what happens when you do something you shouldn't do. Daddy broke the law, and now I have to pay." It wasn't really what he wanted to say. He wanted to say, "what the @&$#$? This isn't fair, I didn't realize it was a 55. Others were zipping past and they didn't get stopped." But he didn't.  He kept is cool for the sake of his children.

Zach jumped into the conversation. "Dad, you got a ticket from a girl?"

"Yes, son. It was a female police officer." He winked at Zach.

"Daddy, that lady policeman was a mean lady."

Before Madison could go any further, Bill turned to his wife. He was exhausted and didn't want to think about the ticket or his arduous day. He wanted to relax.

"So, is your sister coming over Sunday? And what are we having for Easter dinner?"

"Yes, Nancy and the kids will be here. I had planned to have ham, but the grocery store had lamb on sale. So I bought a leg of lamb." As soon as the words slipped out, Melanie knew what was coming. Her eyes immediately scanned the face of her daughter. Just as she thought.  Madison's eyes filled with tears and her face was sad.  Melanie wondered how she could help her little girl make sense of this. She almost wished they lived on a farm. Maybe if they butchered their own animals or lived back in the days of Laura Ingalls Wilder this wouldn't be so hard.  Hunting and killing animals would be an every day occurrence of survival.

You Capture Spring

 

My tulips finally opened up!

 

This poor guy couldn't figure out how to get out of the fence.

 

Baseball

Not For The Faint Of Heart

I so want to post the pictures of Sarabeth's dermoid cyst.  Actually she and I were very curious to know what was inside.  The surgeon did his best to not open it up, but saved that for the pathologist.  The color photos he gave us of the cyst, I have posted elsewhere for anyone who would like to see.  Let me know, and I'll give you the  link.  Or I suppose I could post it here and let those who care to click on it do so at their own risk.

A Big Day

This is Sarabeth and I at Charing Cross in London.


This is the on the walk from our hotel to her home.


Today we will be at the hospital. She's having that pesky cyst taken care of. The surgery is scheduled for 11:00 a.m. I will try to update at the bottom of this post to let you all know how she is doing. Thanks for your prayers. God is good!

11:07 a.m.-They just took her back to start.  Will take between 20 minutes and an hour and a half.

1:00 p.m.  In recovery.  Went well, just waiting to see her.  We won't be able to see her until she gets to her room.

2:45 p.m.  In the room with Sarabeth.  She did great.  Depending on how she does, she may be able to come home sometime tomorrow.    

Chag Sameach Pesach

The next day a great multitude that had come to the feast, when they heard that Jesus was coming to Jerusalem,  took branches of palm trees and went out to meet Him, and cried out:
      “ Hosanna!
      ‘ Blessed is He who comes in the name of the LORD!’
      The King of Israel!” (John 12:12-13)

What transpired between this verse, and a few days later when the crowd could be heard shouting,
      “Crucify Him!  Then Pilate said to them, 'Why, what evil has He done?'
       But they cried out all the more, “Crucify Him!”

Jesus had performed great miracles for the people, even raising Lazarus from the dead prior to the shouting of Hosannas.  The multitudes were shouting and proclaiming Jesus as their King.  Within a very short period of time, they called for his death.

I don't mean to diminish the importance of the life of Jesus, but I can't help but think of fair-weather friends.  When the Denver Football Team goes into the play-offs and the Super Bowl becomes a reality, everyone becomes a fan.  The town turns Blue & Orange.  The praises of the Denver Broncos are shouted everywhere.  If they should win the big game, parades and great pomp and circumstance takes place.  More often than not, they experience a loss and a great number of people who previously spoke glowingly of their winsome now hurl nothing but insults.  No fanfare, no parades, no orange and blue face painting.

In fairness to Jesus, the religious leaders of the time were behind the scenes trying to discredit him and incite the people against him.  I wonder how many people had been touched by Jesus, healed, saw the miracles, eaten bread with the 5000, and yet turned their back on him?  In the end, even those closest to Jesus, his 12 disciples, & closest friends, did not stand up for him.  When Jesus faced his darkest hours and asked them to pray, none stayed awake for even an hour.  Of course, had they known what was about to come, quite possibly they would have stayed awake and prayed?  It's hard to know.

But I have to ask myself, am I a fair-weather friend of Jesus?  When life is good, His miracles and blessings are evident and I'm found shouting Hosanna!

Do I run to Him when trouble comes, pouring out my woes, but don't take the time to listen to what is on His heart?  Do I hear Him when He asks, "Will you watch with me one hour?"  Am I so close to His heart that I understand how important that time of watching and praying is, even if I don't understand or don't know what lies ahead?

Friday Frowns Upsidedown

Five Reasons To Smile:
1.  I went with Sarabeth to sign her surgical papers.  She was asked if she would be willing to participate in a Clinical Trial.  All she needed to do was donate 8 small vials of blood and she received $100.  What college student doesn't need extra cash?

2.  Hearing that Ethan phoned last night.  Even though I missed the call, as I was out grocery shopping, he did get to talk to his grandpa.  That's really who he wants to talk to anyway.  It has been awhile since he has called to say good-night.  Probably haven't talked to him on the phone since before our trip in March.

3.  Getting a random apology from Christopher.  He thought he and his siblings had been inconsiderate way back when they were "total punk kids."  My kids were NEVER punk kids.  But how thoughtful of him.

4.  Getting together with a friend for lunch today.  I haven't seen her in 3 years.  I can't wait to catch up with her.  How long can we hang out and still call it lunch?

5.  Getting this text message:  Dear Mom.  I cannot even begin to explain how much I appreciate all the nice things you do for me.  You really get me through hard times and make me so thankful for who I am.  I love you so much.  I couldn't ask for a better mom. Hilary  (If I find out someone stole her phone, and sent me that message, I will still be smiling.)

Attitude of Gratitude

In the busy of every day life, I often take things for granted. Big stuff, little stuff, even important stuff becomes an automatic expectation.  An expectation that I believe will always be there, will always remain the same, forgetting that in a moment of time, it could all be taken away.

I expect the grass to turn green in the Spring, and brown in the Winter.  Sometimes, I expect my husband to know how much I appreciate him.  I forget to thank him and express my gratitude to him for his sense of humor and the security I carry with me each day knowing that he would do anything for me.

Each morning, without a thought, I place my confidence & trust upon him.  He thoughtfully carries their full weight squarely upon his shoulders.

Today, I want to thank my love.   I want to remind him how much I appreciate him, even though I don't express it very often.

The Miracle Diet

The past few years, I've noticed symptoms of aging (gasp!).  Rather than the typical, "I'd like to lose a few pounds" my thoughts lean more towards, "I just want to be healthy."  As much as I hate to admit it, losing weight would most likely make me a healthier. 

Back in November, I went in for my annual doctor visit.  She didn't chide me for not losing weight, but seemed pleased that I hadn't gained from the previous year.  She wasn't as happy with the bloodwork results.  My total cholesterol had jumped up to 254.  They (whoever the powers may be) prefer it to be between 100-199.

Once before my cholesterol hit 229 and the cardiologist gave me a prescription for cholesterol-lowering medication.  Instead of taking it, I lost 22 lbs. in 3 months.  When I went back in, he was very pleased.  Having had success before with weight loss=lower cholesterol, I made a plea to the new Dr.  I suggested she give me 3 months to lose weight and change my numbers.  If this lifestyle changed didn't result in more pleasing numbers, I'd consider meds.  She agreed.  She even let me slide through the holidays and told me not to have my blood drawn again until the end of March.

I'm not sure what happened in January and February, but instead of losing, I actually gained weight.  I'm blaming that on a lot of things.  As most of you know, we traveled in March, and we ate out EVERY SINGLE MEAL. Sixteen glorious days of eating out.

Upon my return home, my doctor had left 4 messages on my phone, reminding me that I was due to have my blood drawn.  I cringed and felt like the biggest loser.  Dutifully, I went in and waited for her dreaded phone call.  Early the next morning she called.

"Your blood work came back normal, both your lipids and liver function."  I couldn't believe it!  I asked her to send me a copy of the results.  I needed to see them in black and white.  My total cholesterol had dropped nearly 60 points.  Unbelievable!

I think it must have been the Kimchi I ate, no less than 10 times on our trip.  I think I'm going to incorporate it into our diet.  It is a miracle food.

(This restaurant was rather steamy.)

Secret Obsession

I have a confession to make. First I must say, when I traveled to Korea, I didn't have a lot of expectations-mostly because I just didn't know what to expect. I knew the culture would be foreign to me, so I went with an open mind. I was told to be prepared for having my personal invaded, that bubble around me where most of us Westerners prefer to live.

What I hadn't expected to see in downtown Seoul, was men in black. Black suits that were expertly tailored to fit perfectly to each man. Shiny, polished black shoes that make a certain sound as the heel taps the floor.

I love a man in a suit, with shiny shoes. There, I said it. I can't explain why, but oh how I loved walking through a sea of men wearing custom fitted suits, & looking down at their fresh, shined shoes. It was hard to keep from pointing my camera everywhere and snapping away. Even though I didn't think they'd notice, I tried to be polite. Unfortunately, I never did capture the moment.


I do believe this obsession comes from my dad. No, he doesn't love a man in a suit. But Dad wore a uniform, & I don't believe I ever caught a glimpse of his shoes when they didn't gleam. As a little girl, I loved watching him polish his boots.

About once a week, in the evening, I'd see Dad collect his boots, set out the black leather shoe polish, a cloth, and his soft, buffing brush. He'd dab a bit of the black cream onto the shoe and begin gently rubbing it into the leather. There's something manly & rugged about the scent of shoe polish and seeing the care he took to keep his boots looking new.

Sometimes he would use the time to shine his belt with the tiny loops that held his bullets. It was usually at the same time he'd take apart his gun and clean & polish it too. Seeing the care he took instilled a healthy respect for both man and gun.

In the morning, as he'd kiss me good-bye, I beamed with pride. I can still hear the sound of his boots, see the crease in his perfectly, pressed pants, and see the shine of his shoes as he walked out the door. As a little girl, it left me feeling all was right with the world. Dad was in control. He could handle anything.

Maybe that is why I felt so happy & comfortable in downtown Seoul.