Orchid Donor

I am a murderer.
A plant murderer, that is.
Green things shrivel in my presence.  Blossoms wither and fall. I have a black thumb, and I have come to accept it.
My mother and my daughter, however, stubbornly refuse to give up hope.  My mother comes every spring with her shovel and gloves and a truckload of mulch.  She pulls out the weeds that have overtaken my flower beds and "amends" the soil.  She assures me as she leaves the newly planted sprouts in my inept hands that "all" I have to do is water them a little every day and keep the weeds pulled out.  I can practically hear the seedlings screaming "Don't leave us..." but she does.
My daughter takes a different approach.  Maybe all I need is something small in a pot inside the house.  Where I will see it and remember to give it water.  So she brings me flowers with beautiful blooms.  Which last about 27 hours before they commit suicide.  Last year on Mother's Day she got me an orchid.  I pretty much ignored it, knowing that I shouldn't get too attached to the pretty white blooms.  Much to everyone's surprise, it was still blooming a few weeks later.  Apparently orchids require very little water.  It lasted almost a year before if finally dried up to spidery roots and gave up the ghost.  Hillary was so proud of me she got me ANOTHER one this year.  I vowed to make this one grow.  I read the directions.  "Easy as 1-2-3!" they proclaimed.  "1.  Water once a week with 3 ice cubes. 2.  Place in well-lit spot.  3.  Keep away from drafts."
I carefully placed 3 ice cubes on the mulch in the pot, placed it on my kitchen table and crossed my fingers.
The next day the root where the ice had been looked puny.
Maybe the ice can't be directly on the root.  Ok, I will just give it water then.  I put 3 ice cubes into a cup, waited until they melted, and then measured the water.  The next week I poured out exactly that much water onto the orchid.
And one by one the petals fell off.
And the long stem started to turn brown.
And now it looks like something from a Tim Burton movie.

I texted Hillary a picture with this caption 'the orchid is well and truly dead."

Ever the Optimist she replied, 'that's ok.  It had a good try."

She offered to get me another one but I said "No!"  If plants communicate there must be molecules floating away from my house that warn 'beware...those who enter here are not long for this world'.  There is no need to put me or the Plant Kingdom through any more.  

Since no one seems to sell plants that require no water, sunlight, or care-taking, I think I will just buy some artificial Christmas trees, cut the tops out of them, and put them in front of my house as shrubs.  I will focus on nurturing children, which I do seem to have a knack for, and leave it at that.

Off Track

It had been a long day.

Field Day in First Grade had left me tired, stinky, and flat-haired.  I stood in my kitchen, browning ground beef for supper, still in my ugly yellow School Shirt and shorts.  (The next school I teach for will have to have colors I look good in.  I mean, really...what white person do you know that really looks good in yellow??) I had just remarked to Hubby, "I'm so glad we don't have anywhere to go tonight."

Then Parker breezed through on his way to the garage.  

"Gotta go up to the school for my Track Banquet.  See ya later."

Track banquet..??? What!?

I froze him in his tracks with that Look I've perfected after 21 years of parenting. 

"You have a Track Banquet?"

"Yes"

"Why didn't you tell me?  Did you not WANT me and dad to come?"

He shrugged.  "I figured you knew."

Of course...I should've used my ability to read people's minds.  I should have checked the secret MomWire that posts all important activities.  How silly of me...

I took a breath and calmly asked, "What time does it start?"

"6:00"

It was 5:31.

He went out the door and I flew to my lair to turn straw into gold.

A few minutes later Hubby came to find me.  "You ready?"

snip..snip...

"You're cutting your hair?" he asked in disbelief.  "Now?"

"Of course, now!" I replied.  Because that's what I do when my hair doesn't work with me.  I torture it with sharp instruments until it gives in and poofs a little.
He rolled his eyes and wisely walked away.
A few sprays of body spray, a swipe of deodorant, and a change of clothes later, we were in the car headed to the school.
And then I got a text from Parker.
"It doesn't start until 6:30."
Awesome.  Just enough time to do NOTHING but too much time to go inside and sit and wait.
But that is why God gave me this child.  He knew I would be the kind of woman who would petrify into her rock-solid routine and opt out of the world at large if given the chance.  So He must have thought it would be funny to give me a son who would force me to face the unexpected and adjust at a moment's notice.  The kind of child who tells me as I head to bed that he put the socks he HAS to have tomorrow on the washer.  Or eats the entire pack of hotdogs I had planned to use for supper as his afternoon snack.  A kid who brings home friends unannounced, puts off homework until the last minute, and forgets to tell me about sports awards banquets.
It turned out fine, as it always does.  And I beamed with pride as I took pictures of him receiving awards for being All Conference, All District, qualifying for State, and being recognized for earning the most points for the boys team for the season.
I thank God for this boy who keeps his mama off track.

Wonder-ful

I have started a new bible study called Wonderstruck.  The first lesson is on "awakening" to the wonder of God...noticing the things around us that reveal God and make us want to know him more.  One of the homework assignments was to write down three moments in the past week in which you've encountered the wonder of God and his handiwork.
I thought...
Then I remembered the tenderness with which my husband held me just this morning.  His gentle strength, and the way he loves me continually puts me in awe.  He has been a living, breathing example of God's love for me.
I thought some more...
And I chuckled a little at the memory of Parker laughing at himself over some silly spelling mistake he had made.  His sense of humor is so quirky and wide ranging he often makes me laugh out loud before I even feel it coming. He appreciates the cheesy and the ironic.  He reminds me of the creativity of God...the surprising way He can turn a situation on it's side and bring joy from it.
I thought a little more...
And I remembered the pictures Hillary posted of herself and a couple of other girls, dressed in formals and masks for a Masquerade Ball.  These are new friends, and she is embracing new experiences in a new place.  Her fearless willingness to try things that would scare me reminds me of the God Who Makes Things New.  She sees wonder in the world and captures it with her camera.
And this is just one week's worth.  If I never saw another sunset, or heard another song...if I never attended another church service, or marveled at a fat full moon...these three humans God has put so close to me would be enough to make me believe in God.
I think that is Wonderful.  Just like they are.

Getting the Gold

Track season is in full swing.  This is Parker's favorite sport and he participates in several events.  (And has the various pairs of shoes to prove it.  Apparently one does not high jump in the same shoes that one long jumps in - or runs in- or practices in. But that's another blog...)
Recently, at the end of another hours-long meet that was cold and windy, I stood by the fence and videoed as Parker ran the last leg of the last race - the 4X400 meter relay.  The baton touched his fingers and he shot off, pumping his arms and grimacing with the effort of giving it his all.
But the other guy  was out in front, and when they crossed the finish line, Parker was in second place.  He bent over and grabbed his knees, breathing hard and shaking his head.
And then he stepped over to the guy who just beat him and said, "Way to keep your team in first place!  Good Race!"
He continued on to the other 3 teams and shook their hands and said, "Good job." and "Nice run.'
And in that moment, I was more proud of  him than for any medal he has ever won.  He reminded me of his dad, being a good sport and remaining proud of his effort instead of getting mad or making excuses.
He may have won a silver medal, but he has a heart of gold!

Ties That Bind (and belt)

We spent Easter Sunday visiting our families Back Home.  The four of us, converging from two locations, had suitcases and stuff spread from one side of town to the other.  Sunday morning before church, Hillary decided she wanted to wear the new dress her Memaw had just given her from Avon.  But alas, she had no accessories.  What's a Fashionista to do?
"Hmmm..." she says looking in the mirror. "I only brought flat boots and that won't look right with this dress.  If only I had some red heels."
I sighed and knew this was my cue.. "I brought red heels to wear with my pants," I offered.  "You can have them."
"Sweet!" she sang.  "Now I need a belt."
She rummaged through my own mother's closet, but found nothing to her liking.
"How about a scarf?" my sister suggested helpfully.
She came out with a couple, but Christmas Pentecostal Preacher's Wife wasn't really her style.
Back in she dove.
And out she came with one of my dad's ties.  "This is perfect!" she cried.
And with a little pinning and creativity she pulled it all together.
"I wish I had some earrings..." she said glancing slyly my way.
Good thing I brought two pair.
She donned my dangly black earrings and...
Voila!

"Thanks for sacrificing your stuff for me, Mom" she said as she gave me a huge hug.  "What's one more sacrifice after 21 years?" I joked.  

She was off to join the worship team and there was nothing for me to do but take my barefoot self to MY mom's closet and borrow a pair of HER shoes. 

That's the thing about family.  Between all of us and our pieces, you can always somehow get what you need.  So, like Hillary I say, "Thanks Mom and Dad...for giving me shoes to stand in and a tie that binds."

A Starbucks Story

Parker, Hubby, and I happened to be in the city this week.  

And no trip to civilization is complete without a Starbucks stop.

As we pulled into the parking lot, Hubby made some comment about me being a "strange little woman," which automatically made me think of the line from Toy Story... "You're a sad, strange little man..." 

So I quoted it to Hubby.

He just looked blankly at me through his sunglasses.

"Do you remember what movie that's off of?  Huh? Do you?" I pestered.

Parker piped up from the backseat, "Ooh I know this!  Come on Dad, you know this."

Hubby  refused to play.

He ordered me a tall mocha and inched the car toward the window.

I thought I'd be helpful by finding a clip of the line on youtube.  I was sure if he heard it, he would remember.  

(Because this was was MUCH more fun than just TELLING him the name of the movie)

We came to a stop in front of the drive-thru window, and just as the pierced and tattooed barrista said, "hi, how are you today?" Tim Allen's voice said, "YOU ARE A SAD, STRANGE, LITTLE MAN.."

Only the guy couldn't see me holding up my phone, so he just gave Hubby a startled look.

I was crying laughing and I wished I had thought of this before.  Just think how much fun I could have making my husband say weird things to drive-thru workers.

"Say Hello to my Leetle Friend!"

"Go ahead...Make my day.."

Fortunately, the lid was already on my coffee, so the drive-thru guy couldn't spit in it like I'm sure he wanted to.  

And Hubby is good natured enough to roll his eyes at my attempts to amuse myself at his expense.  Lucky for me he loves me...to infinity and BEYOND!

No "Wires" Attached

I often hear people complain about the evils of technology.  (When I say "people" I mean "old people" because I'm pretty sure I've never heard anyone under the age of 30 complain..)  Anyway, "people" see teenagers sitting side by side in some public place, each with their fingers flying over smartphones, and lament the death of real, face-to-face interaction.  The rise of video games, facebook, and texting gets blamed for everything from the failing education system to global warming.
But I'm kind of thankful for technology.
I have a quiet son.  He can talk when he's in the mood.  But he's usually not in the mood!  If it weren't for texting, I would never know what he's thinking. Especially when it comes to emotional conversations.  Face to face is too intense for him.  If he's angry, or frustrated, or sad...we text about it.  If I have to ask him uncomfortable "mom" questions...we text about it.  And if he wants to convince me to let him do something...he texts me about it.
Just this weekend, we were at a celebration full of people.  Both of my kids were there with us, mingling with people Hubby and I went to high school with.  Hillary chatted and laughed and (of course) took lots of pictures.  Parker sat quietly at the edges, face impassive, not giving away any clues about whether or not he was having a good time.
Then I checked his Instagram.  He had posted several pictures with descriptive captions, detailing what a good time he was having and how cool his dad's old friends (basketball players) were.  And I thought about how nice it was to have this window into his brain.  Far from isolating us, this technology gives us a sort of secret connection.
When I check facebook or twitter and Hillary has posted some silly thing she's done or friend she's seen or food she's eaten, I feel like I'm there with her.
When I pull up Netflix and see tv shows that I know she just watched, it's like she's not far away.
And when my kids text me their thoughts, it's like our hearts and minds touch for a minute.
And it goes both ways.  Each of them have said to me that they are glad I blog about them because it lets them see themselves through my eyes for a bit.
So I will embrace technology.  (Even if my kids DO have to help me figure out how to use it ;)
Our heartstrings firmly connected as we go wireless-ly into the future.