Spring Break 2015

You know all the energy and excitement that surrounds the first day of Spring Break?

Last night - the very last hours of Spring Break - were exactly the opposite.

It was low key around our home. The college kids had gone back to their colleges, and our high schooler had checked her books to see if she had any loose ends to tie up before today.

Today we are back to the routine and rhythm of "normal" life.  When I read a Lent devotional this morning, I came across these lines describing the Monday of Holy Week:

This particular Monday may have felt like the proverbial Monday morning in the modern Western world — a time to reengage the grind and get back to work. Jesus, indeed, walked into Jerusalem to take care of business.

To hear that twist on a 2000 year ago time made me pause, but I liked thinking through it. Today, 2000 years later, felt more Monday-ish than usual, though, because we were coming off Spring Break.

Spring break is such a welcome event. It doesn't even matter whether you travel anywhere or not. The focus has shifted from winter and doldrums, to spring and break.

We planned a little trip to warmer climes - that "whole nuther country," Texas. After packing our faithful 2004 suburban here in Bolivar, MO, with luggage and two beautiful daughters, we hit the road toward Fayetteville, AR. It was time to pick up another beautiful daughter, who was going with us, and to say adios to our David, who was going skiing. Of course, I made them pose for a picture.

Then we headed southwest toward Dallas.

As I was planning this trip, I looked at the little towns we'd be passing through in OK, and googled "interesting things to see in ____, in hopes of finding something that was Instagram worthy in at least one of the HWY 69 towns.

Durant, OK, boasted:
The "World's Largest Peanut" is located on the Southeast Corner of the Durant City Hall. The monument is a must see for visitors to the Durant area. 

Alrighty then! To make the event even more exciting, I bought peanuts and was going to pass them out in the car a few miles out of Durant to add tasty drama to such a must see.

Well, it turned out, nobody was in the mood for peanuts when I offered them and the statue was a little farther off 69 than I'd thought. Questions like, "What exactly are we going to see?" were coming from the back seat. Sitting at my kitchen table, this had seemed like such fun, clever planning on my part. Sitting in the front seat of the suburban describing what we were detouring for felt like the dumbest suggestion I had ever had.

I still felt pretty lame when we eventually found it, but we ended up laughing about it. I'm sure it will find its way into future teasing when I tell them I've found something worth detouring for.

Dallas was our first stop and we packed good stuff in those 3 nights and 2 days. First order of business was dropping our Mary Grace off at the home of a Kanakuk friend, Nicole. We'd shown Nicole all around Bolivar for a couple of days at Thanksgiving, and now she was returning the favor with Mary Grace.

We don't have Cupcake ATMs in Bolivar

We don't have Alamo Drafthouses in Bolivar, either. #dinnerandamovie

Nicole's family not only treated Mary Grace like royalty, but us, too! They took us up 48 floors and let us see Dallas in all its nighttime glory.

Very cool

Sunday morning, we visited The Village Church, where we ran into a friend from Bolivar! I love completely unplanned, unexpected happy reunions!

J.L. West and the girls!

The afternoon was spent touring the The Sixth Floor Museum at Dealy Plaza. It's worth a visit.

That open window...

Early Monday morning, we hit the road again - this time for Austin.

First order of business there? A nap by the pool and a dip in the pool.

Then, we saw the capitol,

Another unexpected happy meeting with Kaden Burlison

hiked the Barton Creek Greenbelt,

checked out the bats on the Congress Avenue Bridge,

Daughters are more fun to take pictures of than bats

and played putt putt with our dear friends from Llano, who drove to Austin hang with us.

That's a seriously big Peter Pan

All that looks pretty fun, right? It was. But it was mainly fun because I was with some of my people. If I'd spent my Spring Break doing the exact same things, but all alone, this blog post would have a decidedly different vibe. It might be a little more Edgar Allen Poe.

Thanking God on this post Spring Break Monday for the gift of time away with people I love. We made some good memories and ate a lot of desserts.

I hope you're making good memories with those you love, too.

And...before we're done, here's another thing we (thankfully!) don't have in Bolivar, MO.

Blessings!

March 4th Mary Grace!

Yesterday was March 4th.

I like March 4th.

I like it because when you say the date you've got a little word play going on. Believe it or not, I'm not the first person to pick up on this. One of the national day calendars I checked said yesterday was

March Forth (Do Something Day)!

Who doesn't want to march forth and do something good and meaningful and helpful? Just saying the date spurs you to get up and get going! Cue some grand march music!

Even more, I like  March 4th because it reminds me of the caboose of our little family train - Mary Grace.

I think of her because "March forth" is an imperative sentence, and when I think of imperative sentences, I think of Mary Grace.

Here's why.

Back when I was homeschooling, grammar time often consisted of quizzing her about the four kinds of sentences. One day, when I asked her to name them for me, she replied:

"The four kinds of sentences are declarative, interrogative, exclamatory...and....(pause....thinking)...   demandatory?

Demandatory. She may not have named it correctly, but she understood it perfectly.

It's actually a better name than "imperative." We laugh about her cleverness to this day.

There was also snow on the ground yesterday, which spurred my memory about a little barefoot marching forth that a preschool Mary Grace did on a similar snowy day many years ago.

On that particular day, I was in the thick of homeschooling the 5 oldest. Mary Grace was still too young to "do school."  She was, however, old enough to play by herself for periods of time while I was teaching one of the others. One day, while I was on the main floor working with one of the kids, she went down to play in the basement. 

She played there for a while, but I guess the beautiful white snow on the other side of the glass door was beckoning. She ventured out the basement door, coatless, barefooted, and took a little trek through the snow. For whatever reason, she didn't turn around and go back in the door she'd just exited, but walked around to the front of the house to the locked front door and started crying for someone to let her in. I remember stopping what I was teaching and saying, "Do y'all hear something?"

I felt like a terrible, negligent mother when I saw my preschooler standing outside our locked front door barefooted and in nothing but her play clothes. That passed pretty quickly, though, because after we scooped her up, warmed her up, and dried her tears, I headed out to take a picture of her adorable tracks in the snow.

I was lucky to capture these sweet footprints in the snow - and this before the handy cell phone camera. I actually had to go to the trouble to get the "real" camera. I'm glad I did.

I'm glad these fun stories marched forth from the back of my mind yesterday and made me smile.

You've got some of your own stories that are just waiting to be summoned. I hope you can take some time in the next few days to remember them and smile.

Blessings!

The Preschooler - complete with scratched up nose;)

The Homeschooler

The High schooler

Love.

A Note to My Sons: Of Mustaches and Men

Through my Audible membership, I'm listening to The Great Bridge: The Epic Story of the Building of the Brooklyn Bridge by David McCullough. I'm all over anything David McCullough writes and having words like "Great" and "Epic" in a title make it a done deal. I look forward to the day when I can go back to NYC and re-visit the Brooklyn Bridge. I've been to it once, but I can tell you, after reading about it,  I will appreciate it in a whole new way.

Recently, I heard a couple of sentences from that book that made me think of my boys.

October 2013: Hannah's wedding

They are men  (Luke's 25 and David's 21), but I still call them my boys. Mother's prerogative, right?

The sentences from The Great Bridge that stopped me described a George McNulty, and after googling his name and the words "ablest men on the job," the following page magically appeared on my screen.  I put a blue box around and underlined in red the section that impacted me. (I'm not sure what the yellow highlighted words are about.)

When I heard those words about the not yet thirty George McNulty, (my boys are not yet thirty, too), I stopped the audio, and replayed it a couple more times. 

Then I thought/prayed/whispered the following for my boys:

Lord, may my boys be known as "unquestionably one of the ablest men on the job" whatever job they do. Let this be said about them because they are this kind of man.

It's a mother's hope, prayer and blessing, all wrapped up together.

Followed by and also wrapped up in this, was a little humorous reminder for this mama.

McCullough mentioned that “McNulty…managed to grow an imposing handle-bar mustache.” While neither of my boys have grown that, it’s not because they couldn’t. They’ve both been blessed with their father’s good gift of beardicus plenticus and have proven that fact over the years.

Luke: 2014

David: 2014

Those two used to look like this:

David and Luke: 1996

Not anymore.

My two boys can grow facial hair. It may seem silly, but God used George McNulty's imposing handle-bar mustache to remind me of a simple fact.

My boys are men.

Men I love and pray for.

I'm praying that they are the ablest of men.

This Week, I've Found Myself Thinking...

With Valentine’s Day coming up, I’ve been feeling an itch to blog about it - or at least to blog about what I've been thinking about in this week leading up to it.

Last year, I took a lighter, yet darker, more chocolate approach to the day and wrote Valentine's Day.

But this year - this week - I’m feeling a little more thoughtful. And, slightly all over the map. I've felt a little nostalgic, a little weak, a little (a lot) thankful, a little prayerful, a little serious, a little Snoopy.

Hold on. I'll show you what I mean.

This week, I’ve found myself thinking about Valentine’s Days past. 

When we were homeschooling, we threw some fun Valentine’s Day parties for the girls. We planned and decorated and celebrated and always bought a big balloon.

I’m sure those were some slightly stressful “how am I going to get it all done” days, but I don’t remember a bit of that. I just look at these pictures and remember perfection. Isn’t that what we do? Why do we do that? Is it because we are so busy navigating today’s “hard," that yesterdays all seem relatively easy? That selective memory gig is so interesting.

This week, I’ve found myself thinking about my Mom. 

Mom died 7 months ago on July 13, 2014. She was 88 and sick and tired, and tired of being sick and tired. She was ready. Knowing that gave (and gives) great comfort, but for some reason, especially yesterday, I missed my mother. I wanted to talk to her. I missed her voice. I replayed a couple of voicemails that I've kept on my phone where she asked me to pick up some juice for her at the grocery store. "It's real good juice, not watered down like some of them..."

It’s good to have loved someone so much that you miss them, isn’t it?

This week, I’ve found myself thinking about my Lou. 

He’s a good man. A really good man. He loves the Lord and me and our crew so well. 

1987 - I've always liked this pic of us

A few completely random things about him that make me smile are:

His voice.

How much he loves tennis.

His knowledge and love of cars.

How he loves technology and all it does for us.

How he can't stand still.

His love of bike riding.

His cooking!

How much his patients love him. When they tell me they love him, I think I'm pretty clever when I come back with, "I do too!!" 

This week, I found myself thinking about my kids.

This week, I found myself praying for my kids.

How I love our crew. Five of the six are scattered to the four winds, but all are in the thick of figuring out what is what, and where they want to be, and how to do what they want to do, and can they really even do what they think they want to do? God has gifted each one of them so uniquely, and I long for them to know how to be and what to do with the gifts given to them. Even more, I pray that they know the Giver of the gifts and love Him with all their heart, and soul, and mind.

The almost ready pic

This week, I've found myself thinking about Kara Tippetts.  

Her blog, Mundane Faithfulness, is chronicling her journey from life to death, which is more imminent for her than most of us think is imminent for us, as she is on hospice care. I first became aware of Kara back in October 2014 when I read this post she wrote on Ann Voskamp's blog, A Holy Experience. I am drawn to Kara's beautiful faith-filled life. I want to love and trust my Jesus like she does when the suffering coming my way comes. We are told in John 16:33 

"I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world." 

Suffering - tribulation - and death are coming to all of us eventually. I don't know if we are ever ready for it. The coming of most of the really hard things that I've gone through have completely blind-sided me. But so far, in these 53 years God has given me to live, He has been faithful in and through the tough times. He has helped. He has loved. God has given the strength and hope needed. He has kept His word.

That's heavy stuff, and I know sometimes our tendency is to shy away from heavy stuff. It's not fun. If fun is our goal, we are going to have a life time of fake. It's only in really dealing with and thinking through the heavy stuff of life and death can we be authentic and have the joy, peace and stamina to live out each day. We lean hard into the truths of God's word knowing He will give all of Him and the truth and the hope and the joy that is promised. When we do that, we will have all that we need for a real, authentic, joy filled life. The weight and wonder of it all astounds me sometimes.

This week I've found myself thinking about how I procrastinate.

How can I ever procrastinate after writing the previous paragraphs? I'm ridiculous. Aren't you glad God's love and faithfulness is rock solid through all our ridiculousness?

I still haven't bought my Lou's Valentine's Day card (or gift). I think I put a little pressure on myself to outdo all other Valentine's Days to date. Good grief. Just stop.

This does, however, take me back to some previous Valentine's from my Lou that I've kept. I really liked Lou's Snoopy phase...

I'm seriously impressed that you've hung with me through all these meanderings. Well done. Here's some parting Snoopy wisdom - not from my stash of Lou cards, but from the internet after I googled, "Snoopy wisdom."

Many, many blessings to you as you love on those nearest and dearest to you.

Through Thick and Thin

Oh my.

I kind of can't believe I just wrote a poem about my weight, but I did.

You can thank our Hannah. The other day, my beautiful 23 year old married daughter sent her dad and me one of those fun, "remember this?" texts where she included a picture that had shown up on her timehop. It was taken in 2008.

Glad it's blurry. Blurry adds 10 lbs, right?

Yikes. Not gonna lie. When I saw this I was slightly taken aback at how heavy I was.

And then the memories of weight gained and lost over the years came flooding back. In poetic form. It's one of my little quirks, but I'm glad God gave it to me. Some of you may be able to relate. My hope is you all enjoy:)

Through Thick and Thin

A score and 7 years ago

Some serious vows were said,

To love through all the good and bad,

And forever - til we're dead.

Those words were good, but incomplete.

And this may cause chagrin

But both of us did not say,

"I do  - through thick and thin."

Through thick and thin? What can you mean?

The same as "better or worse?"

Oh no. Not quite. Not even close.

What I mean is called one's "girth."

I started thin like most brides do

I'd cook and eat at will

My zippers still would zip right up!

Oh the glory! Oh the thrill!

Then a very happy happening

Brought elastic pants my way

Nine months of thickness welcomed

"It's all baby!" folks would say.

Well, some left with the baby's birth

And some, it stayed behind.

I guess it'd gotten used to me

And thought leaving a bit unkind.

I let the thickness hang for years,

Which I thought was more than nice,

I fed it every night at 10.

Is ice cream really a vice?

But one day past, I hit that point

When you say, "It's now or never."

I measured all my beloved food,

And exercised more than ever.

The weight, it dropped!

The thickness left, and thinner came to be,

I've got this beat, or so I thought

Oh the joy! Oh, the glee!

I thought that 20 was gone for good.

But since, I've gained half back.

Alright. Ok. But, darn and shoot!

I gave those scales a whack.

The thick, the thin, the thick again.

I know this tune by now

I've sung it loud and proud and strong,

I should really take a bow.

My man, he's watched me sing it

And he's loved my size with grace

I know we didn't vow those words,

But you couldn't tell it by his face.

And yet, I say, what could it hurt 

To vow this weighty truth?

"Through thick and thin," it's a for sure.

We must inform our youth.

Wedding thin

All baby ;)

2013 - Skinniest I'd been since babies 

What Can Happen in a Second

At Christmas, I was given this delightful gift by our Faith.

Thank you, Faith

The first page of such a potentially daunting book looks like this.

I figure the top left corner is a good place to start.

What Can Happen in a Second?

The very first thing that came to mind was that hard day in July of 2012 when my Lou took a tumble on his bike and ended up in the hospital for 6 days. Then I decided that his accident actually occurred over a span of a few seconds, which could possibly be more accurately described as an "instant." Since I felt the question at hand was supposed to be taken literally, I had to (momentarily) disqualify what has affectionally become known as "the wreck."

Going the strictly literal route, I came up with:

a blink.
a thought.
a word. Unless it's a word like "hypervitaminosis," which takes about 1.28 seconds to say. (Yes, I timed myself saying it.)
a cough. The dainty kind, not the hacking, convulsing kind.

There's 4, but as I was going down this literal route, I veered off course pretty quickly, and ended up settling on really the one thing that happens in a second - every single second - LIFE.

That's what life is made of - seconds. Seconds that turn into minutes that turn into hours that turn into
days that turn into years that pass quickly and before you know it, you've lived a life! I could hardly type that sentence fast enough! The urgency I felt at using my time wisely and getting that thought out was slightly intense. My life is passing!!

Of course, we can't live in that urgent, panicked state - talk about a joyless, frantic existence - no, thank you. But we are admonished by our wise, good Creator to consider how we live.

Psalm 90:12 

So teach us to number our days that we may get a heart of wisdom.

Ephesians 5:15-16
Look carefully then how you walk, not as unwise but as wise, making the best use of the time, because the days are evil.

James 4:13-14 

Come now, you who say, “Today or tomorrow we will go into such and such a town and spend a year there and trade and make a profit”— yet you do not know what tomorrow will bring. What is your life? For you are a mist that appears for a little time and then vanishes...

Those are thoughtful, serious words, but they are not joyless words.

They tell us the score. It's only when we know the truth about something - that our time indeed is limited and precious and not to be squandered - can we think about it seriously and make sure we are using the seconds we are given well.
For Truth.
For Beauty.
For Goodness.
All of which are wrapped up in knowing and being known by our gracious, sovereign God. That kind of knowing and living brings deep peace and deep joy!

That's the kind of living I want to happen in every second.

The 11th Club

11 is a significant number in my life.

I was born on an 11th. A September 11th, way back in 1961.

I know, I know. I can almost hear the choir of sympathetic groans being breathed right now. That horrible day in 2001 that made all 9-11s before and since infamous and sad, was also a milestone birthday for me - my fortieth.

But 11 is not just significant for me because of me. I've always loved and felt a fun connection with my dad and my paternal grandmother because they too, were born on an 11th.

Dad was born on January 11, 1928.

 Mama Trudy was born on October 11, 1900.

Mama Trudy holding our blinking Hannah

Lou and I tried to include our 5th child, Elizabeth, in this exclusive 11th club. She was due in July and because I had had some issues birthing children, I was to be induced. We kind of got to pick her birthday! Based on my past birth track record, if we induced me on the night of the 10th, she'd be born on July 11th and get to be in our club!

Elizabeth

However, she enjoyed the whole womb vibe longer than we wanted her to, and didn't make her appearance until the 12th. We tried, but she was #sassythenandsheissassynow

So, there's just 3 of us in that special club and today is one of those special 11ths - January 11th. It would have been my dad’s 87th birthday. 

And, come March 20, it will be 11 years since he died.

Since I like commemorating his birthday rather than his death day, and, since the number 11 is standing up tall and proud, I thought I’d list 11 fun facts about my sweet daddy. There is no real order to them and they are completely random. I just wrote what came to me as I sat here thinking about him.

1.  He LOVED Christmas and giving gifts. He often had a theme that he’d announce and we’d  know that our gifts would be connected to that theme. For example, one year, the theme was “Enlightenment.” Our main gift that year was a copy of this framed picture that his dad, a Methodist minister, had painted.

2. He loved to dance. He'd dance anytime anywhere, and my first dances with him that I remember were in the kitchen with my feet on top of his feet, my hands in his hands and him dancing us around on that old linoleum. I giggled the whole time. I wish I had a picture of that, but I don't. I'm including a picture of him dancing with an old family friend because I love this picture of both Dad and Mrs. Helen Pritchard.

Dancing in our living room!

3.  He was a doctor in a small town in West Tennessee. When he was on call, he'd often need to meet a patient at the office after hours. If they had a laceration that needed to be sewn up, I’d go with him and be his nurse. I made sure the light was exactly where he needed it, opened supplies for him, and poured hydrogen peroxide on the finished product. I also offered a running commentary during the procedure. Bless those very patient patients.

4.  He was a medical doctor who didn’t graduate from high school or college. Crazy, huh? His family moved around a lot when he was in high school and right before he graduated, somebody noticed he was missing a typing credit. His college let him in without it. WWII and joining the Navy messed with attaining all the official college credits, but he had the ones he needed for med school, so they let him without that diploma too!

5. Dad enjoyed golf, and in his later years, he dressed in Payne Stewart fashion. He is also legendary in our family for having a practice swing that was textbook. Absolutely beautiful. But once he addressed the ball, it was a different story. Let’s just say he’d usually end his actual golf shot with the words: “Hugh, you fast swinging idiot!”

6. Dad had an amazing garden. He worked in it most every morning before he went to work and most every afternoon after work. He and mom made quite the team. He’d grow it. She’d cook it or freeze it. 

Not the best garden picture, but best I could find quickly

7. I never saw my dad in a pair of sunglasses or a pair of jeans. 

8. My dad wrote me at least once a week while I was in college. That he did that still wows me. I treasure those letters.

9. All of Dad's letters ended with "Love, Dad" and a square root of some kind - the most frequent being √6 = 2.449. Apparently he had a professor in college that would start his class period by writing different square roots on the board. That obviously stuck with dad and it's been an endearment he used all our lives and one we kids have enjoyed. We had that most familiar square root engraved on his tombstone.

10. Dad was an unusual doctor in the fact that he had beautiful penmanship - and he was very proud of it. I was too, and after seeing this kind of thing done in Southern Living, I had the same done with one of Dad's letters. This particular letter was one he sent to me a few months after I got married. It's one of my favorite things.

I especially love his "L" and his "H"

11. When I started teaching, Dad would call me every Friday morning before I left for school just to say, "It's Friday! Every teacher's favorite day." He was right. It was my favorite day:)

January 11 was/is also one of my favorite days. A good man was born.

Thinking today about the good man God gave and let me call "Daddy."