Favorite Things

I'm thankful for beautiful food...

And fruitful gardens.

And a daughter who's interested in memories...from generation....

my wedding dress circa 1993

to generation.

mimi's wedding dress circa 1973.

And a son who is helpful...

and musical...providing accompaniament to our holiday singing.

And free tickets to CATS...and time spent with friends.

And rest.

Why I love First-Graders

We all know that kids can be cruel. But some ages seem crueler than others. Junior high comes to mind. When I worked with 3 year olds, the harshest thing they could ever think of to say was, "You're not coming to my BIRTHDAY!" And while my first-graders can sometimes call each other names, or refuse to play with someone for a whole recess, they are generally pretty open and loving.
This morning, Annie came in late. She had been absent yesterday, and one side of her face was swollen and pink. Her cheek bulged and her eye squinted. Mom pulled me aside and said she had suffered from an abscessed tooth and was better today, but Mom was worried that the other kids would make fun of the way she looked. I told her I'd take care of it. Far from being mean, however, most of the kids showed great concern for her and joy that she was back. Then one boy said, "Oh my gosh...what is that -" I opened my mouth to cut him off before he could say 'on your face' when he finished "around your neck!?!"
What?
"Oh, that's my lip gloss." Annie happily replied, taking the lid off of it to show him the fat pink cylinder.
"Wow!" was all he could say.
Only a first grader could be wowed by a lipstick necklace when it was being worn by a girl with half a face.
Then, this afternoon, I was waiting in the car pick-up line with a couple of boys when a little kindergarten girl came tooling down the sidewalk in her motorized wheel-chair. She was laughing because her mom couldn't keep up with her. She whizzed past us, slowed down, and turned onto the wheelchair ramp. She confidently maneuvered to the unfolded ramp of the van and buzzed up into place. Her mom folded the ramp up and shoved it inside, then slammed the door.
And one first-grader said to the other, "Awesome!"
At what other age could we respond with awe and wonder rather than fear or pity?
So, that's that...I'm never leaving first grade!

Sweetie

Last weekend I went to a cookie exchange. It was a total "woman" thing, but I did get some help from my sweet husband. While I was slaving over the hot oven, I was wondering aloud how I was going to get these 24 cookies to the church without having to worry about my container. He offered to make me a disposable tray out of some cardboard covered with foil. Sounded great to me. I baked and he went to work.
He cut a large square...sliced the corners at an angle...folded them up to make sides...covered the sides with black electrical tape...covered the whole thing with foil, more tape, and more foil...and voila! He set it on the counter, and that's when I realized how BIG it was.
Not that I should be surprised. My husband is a big man who does things in a big way. When our old microwave went out, he bought the biggest, most powerful one they had in the store to replace it. The salesman assured me I could cook a turkey in it. I'm not sure why I'd want to...but I can. And when the dogs chewed up our latest FedEx delivery, my MAN built a box for the delivery man to leave future packages in, and set it right by the front door. This handy box is roomy enough for the FedEx man himself to get in. Maybe he could jump out with our package in his hands...like a lady jumping out of a cake. I'm sure I'll be thankful if we ever have a couch delivered and we aren't home to bring it in.
Anyway, when I asked him why the hand-crafted tray was so large, he replied that he didn't like for his cookies to be stacked and he's sure other people feel the same way. So I lay my cookies in the box...single layered...and with room to jostle without touching each other...and headed to my event.
As I wrestled my box of goodies into the building, my friends exclaimed, "My! How many did you make? I thought we were only supposed to bring 2 dozen."
I explained.
I sat the tray on the table among the dainty china and sophisticated silver and went into the other room with everyone else to enjoy some singing. When we came back in to share the cookies, I noticed that my cookies had been placed on a plate and my big box was no where to be seen. Probably some other jealous lady had swiped it.
But that's okay. Not everyone has a sweet husband at home. So I'll gladly share. The box. Not the husband. That big sugar daddy is all mine!

Gettin Squirrely

This is deer season, and the mighty hunters take to the woods (aka Parker and Papaw). They are dressed warmly...camoflauged and orange-vested. They are armed with two kinds of guns, various liscense and tags, and plenty of snacks.

They sit in the woods for hours...and they see NO deer.

But a great hunter will not be deterred. There were squirrels aplenty. And Parker shot a few of them...making his first official kill and so reaching the True Hunter Rite of Passage.

But that wasn't the end of the fun. Later we all took a walk. When we passed a persimmon tree, Papaw stopped to introduce the grandkids to the taste of the ripe fruit...and cut the seed open to find a "spoon" meaning that we will have a hard winter with enough snow to need a shovel.

All in all - it was a great weekend!
Unless you happened to be a squirrel!

Life Song

Why do we expect our kids to be just like we are?
Thank God they're not!
Recently, I was scheduled to sing the solo at church. I tried not to think about it til Saturday night. When I finally got around to choosing a song, it was one that sounds better with harmony. So I asked Hillary if she'd mind singing with me. Her face lit up...and with not a second of hesitation she said, "Sure! What's the song?" There was no sense of duty or obligation. There was only pure joy at being asked, and open-hearted pleasure at the chance to share her talent.
I've been singing in front of people since I was two. I can't remember not performing. I took it for granted and assumed everyone could sing. I was often asked to do it, and sang for weddings, funerals, revival services, and even a local TV telethon once. But as I got older, the fear got stronger. What if I mess up? Forget the words? Miss a note? Show the world that I'm not as good as they think I am? So I masked my fear with confidence and tried to convince myself it was real.
Then came a time in my life where I became unworthy for the church platform. My sin was evident for all to see. And I suddenly had an excuse to refuse requests to sing. For years I sat back, only using my talent occasionally, when someone pressed and begged and made me feel guilty enough that I couldn't refuse.
And finally...through many tears, prayers, sermons, messages in tongues, and sessions with a wise Christian counselor...God and I came to a solution. We made a deal. I didn't have to be worthy. I only had to be willing. And if I was willing, he would do the rest. I wasn't singing for me. I wasn't singing for others. I was singing for him.
So now, when I'm asked, I try always to say yes. But it doesn't come easy. And that's okay...for it keeps me dependent on Him instead of me.
And I'm sure there will be something in Hillary's life that makes her hold onto God with both hands. But for now, she shares her multiple talents with joy...and an unscarred heart. She sings and dances and writes and draws and takes pictures...and loves it! Her exuberance overflows onto those of us around her.
And it heals me.

Joy on the Journey

Parker is the kind of guy who enjoys his leisure time. Lying on our bed, watching TV is his idea of the perfect Sunday afternoon. However, his dad had other plans for him. He needed him to mulch up the leaves in the front yard. Parker didn't complain...he just started to get ready.

I was sitting in the chair, making a grocery list, while Parker turned dressing warmly into a 30 minute James Bond vignette.

He lay his coveralls on the floor and rolled around, sliding into them a centimeter at a time, grunting and frowning as if he had just been shot and was crawling back to the bunker.

Then he s-l-o-w-l-y zipped them up...

all the way to his chin, dramatically grimacing and panting (and clearly enjoying himself).

Until he had finally conquered the life-threatening challenge and was ready to defeat the leaves and ride off into the sunset on his mower...a hero.

How often do I approach my to-do list with grumbling and grouching...making the job twice as hard because I'm hating it the whole time and I'm just mad that so much has to get done. How much nicer to prepare with singleness of mind...making it into something fun. Yes, it took him as long to get ready as it would have taken him to finish the whole front yard. But what else would he be doing? I'd rather see him acting out his own imaginary movie than sitting in front of one on tv. And his job did get done before the sun went down. I hope he keeps this ability to have some joy on his journey.

That's my kid!

As I was doing parent teacher conferences I often got skeptical looks from the parents when I showed them the pluses in the behavior column of their child's report card. "Are you talking about my kid?" they would ask incredulously. They couldn't believe that the whiny, forgetful, rambunctious child they knew could be quiet and compliant and responsible at school.
And I have to admit, sometimes I'm the same way. Living with my children, I see all of their warts and blunders and sometimes I expect too much. So it's really nice when other people let me know when they see my children being wonderful.
A lady who helped out at the church Harvest Festival bragged on Parker. She said he and his friend helped her carry things and clean up afterwards. He was polite and respectful. And his dad and I weren't even there! So he did it without being prompted. I was so proud of him.
Then several people told me how wonderful Hillary was in the skit she was in for a revival service. And a young, newly married couple commended her for staying in her skirt and not changing back into jeans like so many other youth who help out with the music on the platform at church. I know how hard that was for her!
Things like this make my heart burst with pride and joy. We've tried to instill godly values into our children, but ultimately, it's up to them whether or not they live them out. And it's great to know that they are growing into responsible, respectful, and reasonable young people.

The Votes Are In

Our elementary school held a mock election yesterday. Each student got to vote for president using the computer. So today, we wrote about it in our journals.
Here are some of their thoughts: (I edited the spelling, but left a few of my faves just for fun!)

"I voted for Barack Obama because my holl (whole) family voted for him."
"I voted for Barack Obama because I like him. He is a united Amerucn."
"I voted for John McCain because John McCain is old and he would know more."
"I voted Barack Obama because I want he to be the president."
"I voted for Brk Bomm. He likes chili with crackers."
"I voted for John McCain because he looks like George Washington."
"I voted for Barack Obama because he is nice. Because he plays basketball."
"I voted for John McCain because he is nice."
"I voted for Barack Obama because he is good."
"I voted for Broc Obamu because he duz not kill babys." (Wow)

We actually had quite a bit of discussion about baby killing...and the war. I'm all for exposing the kids to the democratic process and how it works, but these are not conversations I really want to have with my first graders. They can't even tie their shoes.
If there were a proposition on the ballot to keep children innocent, I'd vote yes.

What's the Rush?

After a good Sunday morning service, a great lunch with friends, and coffee and chocolate chip cookies, Hillary and I sat down at the computer so she could show me the latest pictures she'd found of potential prom dress patterns. I asked her if she'd mind if I checked my email really quick. Of course she didn't. So I clicked and entered passwords and clicked again...and waited...and jiggled my leg...and tapped my fingers...and shook the mouse around.
Hillary looked at me and said, "Where are you going?"
"Nowhere, why?"
"Well, what's the rush?"
And she is so right. I tend to be the kind of person who reads while she watches tv, does a crossword puzzle while she cooks, and makes the grocery list during church services. Why? I don't know. I just do it without thinking. I constantly feel as though if I'm not going so fast I can't breathe then I must be forgetting to do something. Something really important that I'll be sorry for later. But regardless of my breathless vigilance, we occasionally run out of toilet paper or pay a bill late. And the world doesn't end.
Thank goodness I have children to remind me of that.