Wonder-ful

This is Parker's way of encouraging me. Yes that is my head cut and pasted to WonderWoman's body.

He wrote on the side, "You can do anything. Your an amazing mom. Your undistructible."

I'll try to remember that.

Dirty Laundry

I was sitting at the table doing my make up in a tiny handheld mirror (being run out of my own bathroom by my husband's morning "stream and steam" routine), when Parker came through, clad in a towel, and headed for the laundry room. He pawed through the few clean but wrinkled items on top of the dryer, then sighed and headed back to his room empty-handed and underwear-less.

I had a twinge of guilt.

Two minutes pass and Hillary enters. Same routine only with pajama pants in place of the towel. Not sure what she was looking for, but she didn't find it. She left the kitchen and went straight for MY closet. Plan B.

I had a twinge of frustration.

Yep, you guessed it...the parade was not over. My wet-headed husband lumbered past and headed straight for the laundry room.

Now I was just flat-out mad!

What do they think? That our machines are magical? That clean clothes magically appear? Did they not notice that I worked late the day before and didn't even get home til after 5? And then I cooked supper and flew to a ball game. And then helped with homework before collapsing into bed. When did they assume I had done laundry? Maybe I get up in the middle of the night, so excited to wash their dirty drawers that I just can't sleep. Isn't it logical that if they haven't put the laundry INTO the machine...and I haven't been home in 24 hours...that there will be no clean laundry coming OUT of the machine?

But it's my own fault, of course. I've been a bad mother. Failed to bark orders and assign assignments...delegating missions to the troops in order to conquer family life disorder. Whatever will they do when I am gone and they are responsible for their own laundry-seeking offspring? Perhaps they will just teach them the valuable life lessons learned from their mother.

Lesson 1. It's always worth checking. More often than not clean laundry DOES magically appear. Along with food in the fridge and gas in the car.

Lesson 2. Use your creative thinking skills to problem-solve. Underwear has two sides. Every family member has some, so it's not unheard of to borrow in an emergency. And when all else fails, no one will ever know if you are going commando unless you tell them...or have PE that day.

Lesson 3. Laundry is not Love. Being loved is more than being provided for. It's comfort when you're upset, laughter when you're sad, and help when you're overwhelmed. Those things never run out.

Lesson 4. Over a lifetime...it all comes out in the wash.

A Joyful Note

I smiled as I sat in the dark auditorium and watched high school students from all over our region file in, clad in choir attire. It was the District Concert Choir performance. Hillary had practiced for weeks. Her effort was rewarded when she was chosen for Honor Choir, which is the higher of the two groups. And now, they stood straight and smiling, music in hand, beaming with anticipation. They sang an upbeat "Jubilant Song", impressed us with various vocalizations and harmonies in "Alleluia from Songs of Faith", made us wistful with "Set Me As a Seal Upon Your Heart", and rocked our souls with their rendition of "Daniel in the Lion Den." The crowd responded with a standing ovation. Then it was over and we all gathered around our choir directors to find out which students had been chosen to participate in All State Choir. Our choir director spoke softly and I couldn't hear what was being said... then whoops and hugs...and one of our girls had been chosen! Hillary leaped to hug her friend, her own face flushed with excitement and happiness that someone from her school had been chosen. But the director had more to say. Hillary had been chosen as the alternate alto! And Hillary whooped again and smiled all over herself. Even though it means she will have to attend every practice...learn every word...with no promise of being in the actual performance, she was so happy just to have been considered. I was happy too. And proud.

We followed the director to a back room where all the parents were given the specifics of official paperwork. Right beside me, a girl from another school was changing angrily from her singing clothes into her jeans. "I'm second!" she hissed at her mother. "Alternate means second! That's all. Who wants to be second best?" Her mother seemed angry and embarrassed. As she should be. What a contrast to Hillary's reaction. My heart swelled with pride in who my daughter was. I am thankful for her pure heart. Her maturity. Her positive personality.

In the song that is my life, she is a joyful note.

Tested

My son is a hunter. Even though his dad would rather shoot basketball than guns, and his mom is known only for shooting off her mouth, his Papaw has faithfully introduced him to everything from duck to deer hunting. And so, when he turned 13, it was time to legally license him. Which required taking the Hunter Education Course. I assumed that sense we live in a rural, hilly, and wooded area where local kids are born with a gun in their hand, that it would be easy to find an offered course. But you know what they say about assuming...

The only thing available was a 12 hour, 3 night course in the next town over.

I took him the first night, expecting a small group of boys to be taught a few safety lessons, and certified automatically. At 13, he was not required to have a parent stay, and I toyed with the idea of just dropping him off. But when we entered the basement of the Baptist church we were met with 40 or more men, women, and kids. And the instructor got up and told the crowd in a very serious voice that it was extremely important to pay attention because the test had changed and was now all essay, so if you were a good writer you should pass easily. My stomach dropped. Parker is good at a lot of things, but writing is NOT one of them. And then the instructor laughed...ha ha ha, just kidding...it's 50 questions, multiple choice...

Not funny.

I wanted to take one of those bow and arrows on the table and show him kidding.

But instead I just sat there by Parker through the first hour of chapter 1. When the class took a break I told Parker I was leaving for a while and would be back toward the end of the class. He didn't seem thrilled about it, but I didn't want to be a helicopter parent...you know the kind that is always hovering. My husband already accuses me of babying our son. I wanted to stay, but I felt like I had to go.

I drove around and worried. I knew Parker would pick up the information by listening carefully to the instructor. But he had to take the test on his own. His dyslexia causes him to misread things sometimes and I was worried that he wouldn't pass the test...not because he didn't know the answer but because he would misread the question. I considered talking with the instructor to ask if Parker could have the test read to him. That's what happens at school. But singling Parker out would just embarrass him. I fought back tears and hated again that this stupid disorder was creeping up in yet another area of Parker's life, making him struggle for what most people take for granted.

I got back just in time for the second break of the night and sat quietly by Parker for the rest of that class. And when we got home he hugged me and said, "Thanks for coming back and staying with me, Mom."

On the second night, I came prepared. I sat through every minute of the class and read halfway through a novel while Parker listened raptly, eyes never leaving the instructor. I forced myself not to lean over and underline key terms or star important points. And at the end of the class the instructor said, "Now about the test..."

My ears perked up.

"Every time we give this test, I make sure there is someone available to read the test to those who need it. I encourage you to take advantage of this. You don't want to fail the test just because you're not a strong reader."

I couldn't believe it! I hadn't said anything! God had taken care of it without any help from me. For the second time in as many nights I blinked back tears.

The night of the test, Parker went into a side room with a whole group of other test-takers and had the test read to him. He came out with a beaming smile on his face! "Easiest test I've ever taken!" he declared, as he showed me his Hunter Orange patch and certification slip.

I guess we both passed.

18 Candles

My little girl is 18.

To celebrate, we will throw a party in her honor...but that's a couple weeks away. The actual Big Day landed on a Wednesday. So she went to school (even though in our house you can skip on your birthday if you want!). And she tried out for District Choir (and made it, I might add....top alto!). And then the four of us headed to the fanciest restaurant around. Sybill's, set in a grand, plantation style house, offers wonderful food, superb service, and an elegant environment. Due to the "pretty" price tag, it's a treat we save for very special occasions. And this was one. Hillary was so excited! Over candlelight and a real tablecloth my gorgeous young woman spoke of the day's events, college plans, and favorite birthday memories. Elegant and sophisticated, she fit right in and looked like she belonged to this graceful world.

And I couldn't help comparing it to other birthdays.

Chuck E. Cheese with blaring music and garish characters. Kid's World with Barbie cake and screaming kids climbing through the play place like mice in a maze.

My how things have changed!

And then, after cheesecake desert, Hillary looked at the time and said, "Mom, church starts at 7. We're only a little bit late."

Then again, some things never change!

I know that when I was 18, I would gladly have skipped a church service to be pampered and celebrated. Heck, I'd do it today, if given the chance! But Hillary has always loved going to church. There was one Sunday night...she couldn't have been more than 5...when Hubby and I decided to stay home and relax for the evening. Hillary just looked at us and said in a rather accusing way, "Does Pastor know about this?"

So she and I left Dad at Sybill's to pick up the tab, and we slid in the pew just as the service was being turned over to the preacher. Hillary took notes during the message, prayed in the altar service, and then laughed and teased with her friends as we lingered in the sanctuary. Happy and wholesome, she fit right in, and looked like she belonged in this Grace full world.

And even though it was her birthday...I was the one who'd been given a gift.

Radio Waves and World Wide Webs

I have a new favorite thing.

Actually its a very old thing with a modern twist.

Remember how the Walton's used to gather around their radio and listen to a ball game or radio show while grandma knitted and Pa puffed on a pipe? And the kids all scattered around the room listening? Well, just call us the Waltons!

I don't know how to knit, and I would never allow pipe smoke in my family room, but we enjoyed all the rest of it just last night. On our way home, I was enjoying a talk radio show on NPR. But, alas, we don't have a radio strong enough to pick up the signal from St Louis in the house. So I jumped on the internet and "listened live".

Parker lay next to me on the couch, letting me rub his head, while Hillary sat on the hearth and cleaned her tennis shoes with a bleach stick. I watched the flames flicker in the fire place and Yancy relaxed in his chair. We listened to a very entertaining, yet informative show that told stories about math (of all things) in such an interesting way that we sat in rapt attention. It was so peaceful. The worries of the world were pushed outside for a while. We were all in the same room at the same time...and even though we weren't talking, we felt connected. Unlike staring at a TV screen, we watched each other's faces as someone laughed or frowned to what they heard. In these days of crazy schedules it was nice to share an old pastime...by way of the latest technology.

Picture This

Had a sweet day with a sweet man who is getting better by the minute at acting like a boyfriend. Today he went to work with me and stuffed weekly folders, spruced up centers, and made copies where he was fawned over by a couple of other (jealous) female teachers whose husbands were nowhere in sight. Then he took me into the city so I could spend my birthday money. But as great as the day was, it did eventually wind down to an end.

As I sat next to him in the truck, late afternoon sun shining into the windshield, tires eating up the miles between fun and reality, I started to sink.

I hate it, but I do it every Sunday. The closer evening gets, the more I start to think about work and the dreaded Monday morning alarm clock. I fight. And sometimes I win. But more often than not, I don't.

By the time we got home, I was really sad. But I walked in the door, looking for my kids, because they always make me happier...and Parker bounded in front of me, hugged me, and then put his hands over my eyes.

"Don't look" he said as he steered me toward the kitchen.

Music was playing, and I could hear Hillary moving something around.

"OK." she finally said. "Open your eyes and see if anything has changed."

I slowly scanned the room until I saw my photo collage frame sitting on the counter...full of brand new shots of her, Parker, and love messages written in the sand. I exclaimed and examined and felt happy again. While we were gone, Hillary had taken her brother and her brand new birthday-present camera to the park. She printed out the best shots and filled my frame with love and beauty. And my heart with smiles.

Somehow, seeing the world through her eyes and her camera makes me realize how blessed I am...how God sends me beauty in flowerpetals and fingerprints...and how he's gifted my children with creativity and generosity. They are made in His image. And I'm engraved on His heart.