On Giving Thanks

As you’ve probably guessed by now, my mom is my muse.  She resents this role but her mother was hers and I’m sure (maybe) that this is just the normal rhythm of life.  My mother is a real piece of work!  My mom pulled out the stops this year for Thanksgiving.  She really played us close and we were all involved in the process before we realized the level of her game!  She’s one for the Hall of Fame! 

Let me begin this saga by letting you know how grateful we are that my mother is coming along just nicely after her illness.  We’re all sitting around like panting puppies just waiting to do her bidding!  I mean I will leave the beloved IComfort Bed if she tells me she wants to go somewhere; I don’t like to leave the IComfort Bed unless I want to leave it. 

THE GAME

Hook
Now, I’m not sure there was ever a real conversation about what the menu would be for Thanksgiving.  I did see a note on my daughter’s refrigerator but it was in her handwriting so I’m not sure who took part in the conversation.  I was lead to believe that my mother and daughter had set the menu (which meant that my daughter took notes). 

For about one week prior to Thanksgiving, little batches of ingredients showed up on our steps.  I have to admit that I thought I was just storing stuff.  I didn’t realize I was cooking the ham until I saw the pot.  I talked with my daughter about it and she too learned that she’d be cooking the greens the same way – when the pot showed up! 

Line

As the week wore on toward the big day, there were many conversations about what other ingredients might be needed to pull off each of the dishes.  I even received sweet potatoes for the candid sweet potatoes!  My mother indicated we wouldn’t be having macaroni and cheese or mashed potatoes because she didn’t “want green juice in her potatoes.”  R-E-A-L-L-Y? – WOW MOM - YOU DOING THE MOST!  We had mac & cheese anyway. 

Sinker

As I’ve mentioned before, cooking is a mega stressor for me.  I want to get the stuff right and I want it to taste good.  But I have to really concentrate on the matter AND STAY IN THE KITCHEN otherwise I won’t even remember I was ever in the kitchen that day. 

Okay, so we learned about our contribution to the meal upon my mother dropping off the food item and the pan it was to be cooked in!  I don’t know who set the menu but I believe it was my mom – while somehow making Farrin think she was a part of the process.

I had no concerns about cooking the ham because I wasn’t going to do anything but put that sucker in the pan and cook it.  I mean after all – when my mom cooks ham she doesn’t do all that other stuff with the cloves, pineapples and maraschino cherries. 

However, recognizing this was some kind of test – I mean come on she had not given out instructions just dropped off the food and the pot – I contacted my mother at the last minute to ask how I was supposed to cook the ham.  You guessed it; cloves, brown sugar, pineapples and the maraschino cherries! 

I was determined to pass my test and began my calculations (my there is a lot of math in cooking).  Yep, I pulled out my calculator to be sure my timing and concoction was calibrated perfectly for that heavy ass ham she managed to drop off at my house with the pot.   The cook of the kitchen at my house (that would be me), rose to the occasion!

Aunt Debbie was at the house while I was trying to figure out the right amounts and indicated “it really isn’t that hard, I’ve only watched this be done several times but it didn’t seem that involved.”  EVERYBODY IS A CRITIC! 

Also, I want you to know that when I mentioned the change in ingredients to my daughter she was like “you cooked it two years ago, don’t you remember.”  Well, she also got the turkey task and had all kind of trouble with that do-hickey that is supposed to pop out when the bird is done.  When I arrived for the meal, she was asking me why the do-hickey had not popped out.  Now, we’re all connected to the WWW; why was she asking me?  She didn’t like the answer she got either – smile. 

Apparently that do-hickey thing is unreliable and the bird is liable to be dry as a desert bone by the time it pops out.  About 30 minutes after being removed from the oven – it popped!  That will teach her to belittle my test anxiety. 

All in all, we had a lovely meal and a very good time together.  At the end, my mom said, “it was good.”  We worked like the Hebrews to get that little phrase out of her!  She’s got game! 

I don’t know what the plan is for Christmas but if need be, the cook of the kitchen will rise again!   

Not This Cup: Matthew 26:39 (KJV)

I’ve often wondered what Jesus meant by “this cup.”  I understood the context but always thought that the term “cup” was interesting.  Perhaps one day, I will have the leisure to pursue this query for a better understanding.  But, I will tell you this, there have been times when I’ve known folks were going through something scary and potentially life changing – I felt compelled to ask the Lord to allow that cup to pass them.  So, you too understand the context – right? 

Anyway, I recently read a book called Sifted by Rick Lawrence.  You know how you can sometimes read a book just at the right time in your life?  Well, I found that this book offered me many deep thinking points (made all the sweeter because I got the book for free on my Kindle F-i-r-e; the F-i-r-e is another story but trust me when I say haters abound). 

Shortly after I began this book, I noted in a very clear way that a lot of the folks in my realm are really going through some things!  As I moved into the meat of the book – my mother took ill. 

I had tried to not feel anxious but a week prior to my birthday she told me she wouldn’t be able to celebrate with me.  WTHIRGO?  My mother continued to struggle with her affliction and on my birthday we took her to the ER; she was admitted.  Early the next morning she was moved to ICU. 

My Dust and I stood vigil with my cousin, daughter, son-in-law, son, brother, family and friends standing in the gap with us.  The days and nights were long.  The battle raged!  My mother vacillated between the unconscious and conscious.

I sat with my mother while she called out to the Lord to just take her.  And I had to break that news to my Dust.  We both knew that things were serious if she was calling to the Lord.      

At one point, she took to a deep sleep. I thought they had put her to sleep but that was not the case.  Her body was beginning to shut down.  I remember sitting in the room with her explaining that she’d better “come on wit it” because those folks were starting to count her out. 

The next afternoon, my mother was sitting on the edge of the bed trying to figure out “WHAT THE HECK IS REALLY GOING ON!”  Preciously so, she had no memory and continues to have no memory of those scary days. 

When my mother was released from the hospital, she came home with me, my cousin and the kids.  I don’t think she wanted to come with us but my house is the only house between us that has access to a bed and bathroom without going up any stairs.  Plus, I have an I-Comfort bed (as does my mother but that’s another story). 

There was a discussion among the little people (okay you will be able to guess in a minute anyway – it was Lacy) indicating some concern about how anyone would get any sleep with all the snoring that was bound to go on with me and my mother in the same room. 

Being the fair person that I am; I confessed the next morning that Lacy was right – there was a lot of snoring going on (and you know Allie told it to everyone).  Oh, but how I enjoyed my slumber party with my mother.  We were giggling, I was talking too much and she kept telling me to go to sleep!  Smile  

I was just happy because I could see her, touch her and help her.  Things were going pretty well…. I thought but I had noted that she was working on making her way up the stairs.  She was building her endurance so she could flee us. 

On Thursday morning, I awoke to a finger jab in my chest and one eye starring me down.  I said, “What?”  She said, “Stop making that noise.”  Now, she was snoring too but I didn’t wake her up to tell her to stop – the nerve! 

She’d already been talking to my Dust about getting home and through the night on Thursday, she woke me many times to tell me to stop making that noise (as if).  But I believe the last straw was my alarm “system” that Friday morning. 

See, my cell phone starts ringing at 5:00am; then my house alarm starts at 5:30am; then I get a phone call from my girlfriend at 6:00am.  She talks to me until I make coherent sense.  Oh and I forgot to mention this watch that I have across the room that also rings at some point in the morning.  I can’t find the instructions so I can’t turn it off.  But, I don’t hear it every day – so I figure it’s all good.  So between my snoring and all the ringing – I do believe my life was at risk.  Smile  

She didn’t get away from us that Friday but she woke everybody up early on Saturday and told us to take her home.  Stewie and I drove the queen home with him kicking the back of her seat all the way – another something she just loves – NOT. 

Her recovery was going very slowly and she found herself in the ICU again one month to the day later.  When she came through that medical crisis, she seemed to have some of her old fire (not to be confused with the Kindle f-i-r-e) back. 

As I’ve shared before, I’m in introvert.  In fact, my blog is probably as detailed as I get about how I feel or what I think.  It’s not that I don’t have these feelings and reactions about lots of things but I have an internal process that I go through often before I ever speak.  It isn’t the way others handle things but we all have to learn to carry our loads the best way we can and right/wrong or indifferent – this is how I manage. 

Some of what I learned

• It really does take a lot of folks to care for the ill so don’t fuss over the bill
• All doctors are not stuck up and narcissistic; I met several that sat down with me and explained what was what and even stopped to see my mother when they weren’t working (probably the Farrin influence)
• Farrin is a good little nurse; at one point she showed up to get her grandmother’s blood; I was like – h-e-y and she said, “whatever momma, I’m qualified;” and she did a very good job
• Farrin has lots of friends on her job and they treated my mother like she was their grandmother
• I still have what it takes!  I slept in chairs and even took on evil nurse “B” (really her name starts with a B but I don’t want to use her name cause she’s on my list); I didn’t like how she talked to my mother when I was there and pregnant or not – she was about to get the beat down 
• As kind as my Dust can be – he put a blood drawer out the room – she failed his test
• You can fire a nurse you don’t want to work with (Farrin didn’t tell me this until I started my letter)  
• Don’t make the mistake of not calling my Sunday School Teacher because she can put a very rough guilt trip on you  
• My mother is a tough chick and kept her sense of humor despite not wanting to talk with the medical staff (which was making them mad because she would tell us what she wanted and wouldn’t speak to them– there were times they didn’t know she was able to talk because she wouldn’t speak to them)
• I’m still not giving up my I-Comfort bed but if you’re sick, I will share it with you
• Those little kids can be so kind and generous; I simply loved the way all the children served my mother while she was with us and they were quiet too! 
• If this cup is presented to me again, I will not hesitate to ask for it to be taken from me – but I can let her go and not lose my total mind

This Cup

9/8/12

Lord although I don’t know if this is my journey alone – it’s obvious that a portion of it belongs to me.

I’ve never been in this world without her.  At times, she has been my ally and at others the force I fought – but always she’s been…

This feels bitter to me and I’m not sure I have the courage to survive this; despite the full plate before me.

I don’t doubt God’s wisdom.  I just want to finish well.

 

GOT TO LEARN SOME HOW!

Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhh……….. WAIT WHILE I LOOK AROUND TO SEE IF THEY CAN HEAR ME! 

Phew!  They’re not here and I feel sure they can’t hear me – I think/hope.

My opponents are stealthy and I don’t want them to know that I know what I know about them. 

The story I’m about to tell you is the absolute truth and really happen.  I’ve found that when I attempt to share the truth according to Toi – my audience, error-ing-ly so, discounts the credit that I give my little lovelies. 

See for yourself how cute the little lovelies are and you will quickly come to understand why so many would choose to underestimate their total package abilities.  BUT… I caution you to hear/understand and accept what I’m about to share with you as the gospel it really is.

Every now and again, we get a brave relative that stays with us.  It’s the highlight of our boring humdrum daily routines.  We especially love it when Aunt Tee comes to town.  The little peeps enjoy the mutt (oh sorry I meant dog) and I enjoy having her for company.  The kids enjoy being able to ask a new victim lots and lots of questions. 

Aunt Tee has in her mind certain things about children and how to engage them.  I tried to bring her up-to-date with the little lovelies developmental progress and quirks.  My son and I encouraged her to keep her personal items safe from community annexing but she blew our information off. 

As one of my baby cousins remarked about my son over a football game many years ago, “the boy got to learn somehow…”

“SHE GOT TO LEARN SOMEHOW!”

Well, her orientation began early in the morning as she had arrived after the children were asleep and they were just discovering her presence.  I was on my way to the kitchen to prepare morning coffee when I noticed (after turning on the light in the living room) the three lovelies standing in birth order, in the dark, watching her sleep.

I told her to wake up and keep a watch out over herself.  I had things to do and couldn’t stand guard over her.  They broke her down to sheer defensiveness in less than 10 minutes with their questions. 

Aunt Tee travels with lots of costume jewelry.  She believes children are children and should be allowed to explore things.  So, she was only too happy to allow the girls to play with her jewels.  Even my grand little lovely got in on this act! 

Oh they were dolled up so nicely.  Aunt Tee even jeweled up to play along.  The visit was going smashingly.  Well, there was one little set back but I allowed Aunt Tee and the oldest little lovely to work it out amongst them (it involved the  “missing” cell phone of Aunt Tee).

Two days after our visit was over, I received a call that went like this…..

Toi:  “Hello.”

Aunt Tee:  “bag my shit up and send it back to me.”

 

SHE GOT TO LEARN SOME HOW!

We had another brave visitor.  The children weren’t really at home when Cousin Big-E (that’s what he calls himself) visited the second time with his wife but they got to spend a great amount of time with him on his third visit.  Oh, and he got to know the little lovelies much better too – smile! 

Let me see, oh yeah, his first glimpse of what we working with was when he drove about 30 blocks across town looking for his shaving kit.  60 blocks round trip and $1 later it was located under the bed.

His next encounter also cost him $1.  He offered the money as a reward to the one that could locate his vehicle keys.    The keys were suspiciously hidden behind a door. 

 HE GOT TO LEARN SOME HOW!

 Cousin Big-E called himself building rapport with the little lovelies.  He spent time talking to them and answering the million questions they’re capable of generating.  Smile.

I took the children to their activity for the day and headed off to work.  I did hear the 5 year old say that he didn’t get any money because he had not “found” anything for cousin Big-E.  I assure you I didn’t hear the dickens say anything like “yet.” 

Later in the day, I received a grievous sounding call from cousin Big-E.  “Toi, they got those keys again, I know it!”  I didn’t know what to say.

Everyone beat me to the house that evening.  When I arrived, the 5 year old little lovely had his dollar flapping around in his little hand.  Cousin Big-E told me later that he found his keys, in the 5 year olds shoe behind the door. Cousin Big-E paid off the 5 year old to keep him from working to get paid and learned to put his things away for safe keeping. 

When Auntie K came to town, she was clearly aware of the reputation of the little lovelies.  Com’on, they’re extoristnists!  So, I watched as she zipped her bag up before ever asking for a kiss and a hug. 

“SOMEBODY LEARNED!” 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

WHEN I HAD TIME TO SPEND TIME

In the last few months, I’ve been reminded of the infamous words of my sister/friend’s mother upon learning one of her siblings had move to Glory;  “my circle has been broken.”    It’s with despair that I repeat those words because that little lady has a special place in my heart and I hate the thought of her being hurt.  

Suddenly, I can remember the days when I had time to spend time with those I love.  I’m not clear about what’s really eating up so much of my “precious” time of late but it’s all soaked up with one thing or another.  If I were put on a witness stand and sworn in – I’d have to say that most of what I’m spending my time on isn’t what's most important to me. 

I guess a fair portion of this missing time has been spent on just trying to hold on to my sanity.  Let’s face it – I’m getting older and my tolerance – while never much to write home about – is less than I’d like at this time in my life.  I won’t even talk about the hot flashes and aching bones and joints (probably just joints but when a thang is hurting who is to really say). 

Another portion of this missing time is spent on working.  I’m in the home stretch of my “career” where I hope there is the possibility of retiring sometime in the future with the ability to remain living indoors without another job and a piece of health!  Yeah, I could be 14-20 years close to retiring – ummmm….. that sounds depressing (LOL). 

And I’ve noticed that it suddenly takes me all day to do nothing!  There are actually times when I ask those around me if I spoke out loud because I can’t remember what I was about to do despite being “really about to do it!”  

I’m not even going to mention the impact of three little ones and my grands on my current living situation.  Or my consultant role to the young married couple and watching my baby negotiate his neurological condition.  I’m also not going to mention my concern over my own aging parents (although the three of them seem to be younger than I am) and my aching heart as I listen to the worries my sister/friends mention about their parents and kin. 

Honestly, I understand that I’m on the backside of my life instead of being on the side heading up to my peek!  And, I’m not satisfied with the way some of the things have worked out in my life (but praise the Lord I do have health and a portion of my mind – despite pre-menopaus/menopaus chipping at my memory and such).

Do I really have to explain what all the short circuits in my hormones do to my personal relationships and bids for romantic love?  Really?  No, I won’t even go there – okay? 

But, back to my ‘broken circle;  my baby cousin (still feels odd just knowing she’s gone) and one of my Great-Aunties (via the number of years of association and marriage; I’ve never known life without her in the wings) moved over to Glory.  

I’m beginning to lose links in the circle of my life.

My blessing was in having seen my Auntie just prior to her death.  I didn’t get to thank her for all of the hours she’d spent over the years telling me stories that would make me bust a gut; or thanks for sharing books with me when I was in my 20’s; or how good it felt to be hugged by her; or just knowing that I was accepted by her.  I didn't get to share my memories of running errands for her like I did for all the rest of my folks and I know I got talked about when I goofed up the list (which I did a lot – smile).   But, thank God, I did have the opportunity to tell her I love and to kiss her face one last time.  

Another blessing was to have the opportunity to spend a little time with her daughter and my cousin.   I love this cousin.  My love initially took root out of how others like my mother and other cousin feel about her.   But my joy in being in her company has grown from the person she is. 

Surely you’ve had the experience of seeing someone and knowing them and caring for them based upon viewing them through the eyes of someone else?  This is exactly how I made friends with my beloved frienemy that has also moved to glory.  I had the opportunity to first know him through the eyes of his sister as she spoke with pride and joy about a gift he’d given her. 

Anyway, once during my time with my beloved cousin, she explained the anguish of watching her mother in pain and not having the power to do anything to ease that pain or to heal her.   She’s courageous.  

I can remember looking forward to spending my Saturdays with my Great-Aunties.  I mean it was the real highlight of my week.  I want the life I currently have to be fuller.   

I want the people back.  I want the sitting around talking and just being together back.  I want that joy back.  I’m not sure WHAT THE HECK IS HAPPENING with my time and/or time management, BUT I've got to get this corrected!

I can't get some of the links I've lost from my circle of life back but I can strengthen the links I've got left and add to them.  I just don’t want to regret not spending time with those I love while I have the time.

The Concept of Poverty; Another Parenting Moment!

I recently became distressed in thinking that perhaps I’m failing my niece.  My mother and I were engaged in a deep conversation about one thing or another and I mentioned being broke - you know just poor.  Now what you need to know about this niece of mine is that if there is a conversation going on and she’s around – she honestly (and innocently) believes she’s a part of the conversation.  (I mean really like she’s an equal partner in what’s happening – drives me crazy!)
 

The niece butts into the conversation and asks, “What is poor.”  I was simply floored!  I turned to my mother and asked, “Have I failed this child?”  I took the time to explain to her the definition of poor in the context in which I used it and immediately felt like I’d missed an opening to discuss something much deeper and meaningful.  But I wasn’t able to recapture the moment because – well the chick is 8 years old and things just kept rolling on in her world. 

 

I approached my hour of rest with a heavy heart.  On one side of this bitter pill, I recognized that it was a lovely thing that this 8 year old child didn’t have a “depravation” understanding of poverty but on the other side of it - had I offered her enough information and opportunities to fail to understand the blessings in her life that keep her from feeling “poor?” 

Yes, we talk about the value of money, the price of items, the need to take good care of things because they cost money and money is not to be wasted.  Yes, we talk about treating others the way we like to be treated (this is a hard lesson to “get” at this age) and being a good person (to avoid depravation of character and spirit).    

Anywho, as sleep enveloped me, I decided that on some level; I’ve been giving my very life energy to make sure this child (my nemesis love niece) didn’t have to feel the cold loss that poverty can inspire – “I don’t want her to know that!”  Truth be told, I don’t want anyone to know that! 

I slumbered with all of that on my mind and when the morning arrived, I determined true wisdom was in numbers and purposed to ask my family, friends and peers their thoughts on the matter.  “When you were 7 or 8 years old, did you think you were poor?” 

I know I can hear you all saying, “WHAT THE HECK IS WRONG WITH HER?”  But honestly, I didn’t think about any ole festering sores one might have when I took it upon myself to get to the bottom of the concept of poverty. 

See, I can remember when the bad news was broken to me.  I was riding with my mother around this age and was telling her how bad I felt for poor folks when she felt it NECESSARY to let me know that I was one of the poor folks.  I can still remember howling with indignation that “I’m not poor, I have toys!” 

Honestly, that wailing little kid continues to reside in me when I think of those that live in poverty, neglect, abuse and abject contempt by our society!  I mean who really bucks against children eating or sick folks having medication or struggling families having decent housing?  Okay, I won’t even go there right now. 

But, being who I am – I forged ahead and subjected my poor family/friends/& co-workers to the burning question.  I deeply apologize for any discomfort this may have caused but also feel very grateful to those that pushed through to share with me anyway. 

A number of folks had no clue one way or the other because if they were without anything they didn’t know it at the time.  I heard plenty state that they had what others had so they didn’t feel deprived or poor.  Others indicated knowing they were poor and some of the embarrassing clothing choices they endured as their families attempted to provide weather appropriate sturdy items.

So, after gathering my data what conclusion have I arrived at?  Well, before I tell you that let me share this one pearl with you:  in my life – right now – whenever my energy gets low and my resources tight – God provides what the kiddos need?  How do I know it’s God?  Who else could help a people endure making bricks without straw? 

Because the kid (my niece) doesn’t know poor – I have not failed her.  I’m giving her what I had – security.  She feels secure AND has plenty of time to develop her own definition of poverty.  When it is her time to determine how to best handle her perception of poverty – she’ll have the example we’re working to provide to use as a template on her own journey. 

What do you think? 

 

  

Peonies & a Casserole

Today - I feel a keening in my soul.  I have not cried but my body feels racked with deep sobs and wailing.  It took a few phone calls and some time to realize she was speaking in English and her words were true.   

Yes, I know we all die.  I just never considered that the kiddo locked in my heart’s memories might move to glory before me.

I was not able to stay close to her but I knew her when she wore diapers.  I use to comb her hair and get tickled when she would say, “hey, take it easy up there.”  She didn’t take no mess from anybody!  I remember the magic shows she would put on for all of us.  We use to vote for Nadeana’s Casserole (or was that just me) - do ya’ll remember? 

I, well… I remember lots of things about her and her siblings; my baby cousins.  The girls all grew to be babes and the fellas are all muffins.  It is difficult for my mind to hear that she is gone.

You know, over the years, I’ve witnessed “the struggle” in the lives of my peers.  Although the older generations (and now I must also consider that perhaps even the younger generations) in our lives hope to move to glory before we do; I think we secretly hope to move to glory before they do because we don’t know life without them. 

I believe that it is in that secret world of hope and despair – things change; we mature; the wholeness of our true character is revealed and we “grow up.”  One of the additional miraculous things about these transitions is that there is a blessing somewhere in there for all those that are “around” the circumstances. 

At this time, I’m reminded of a story I recently learned when I noticed one of my co-workers walking past with a lovely vase of pink peonies.  I figured she was going to add more water to the vase.  The flowers were very pretty and I must admit that I felt a little envious of the beauty she’d thought enough of to stop and enjoy.

In the last few years, I met a dearly beloved, older couple via this co-worker and their daughter.  Oddly, she’s never spoken much of her childhood but has always captured my attention with the stories of the love between her parents. 

Her father has experienced some decline in his health and she often went to see about her parents.  Her mother and father lived a few hours away in a retirement community.  Over time, her father’s health continued to decline and a decision had to be made regarding more intensive care. 

Naturally, having been married more than 66 years, the thought of the two not being together at all times, was anguish provoking – unbearable - for all involved (including me – the outside witness).  However, the best care options for her father had to be the priority. 

I watched my friend struggle through deciding when to press her mother to make the decisions and other times fretting over the potential of having to make the decisions on their behalf.  What a position to be in!   

Her mother finally determined that her beloved husband required more care than he was getting.  Although she never had to see her sweet love moved away from her, I believe this decision simply broke her heart.  She moved to glory within the week. 

The two still had much love between them.  Sure, memories had begun to fade along with some physical abilities …. but still heavy on tap was love.  In fact, some days “I love you” were the only words that passed between the two the entire day.

I know some others that are struggling through the same kind of experience my friend and her family is working through.  I admire the character and love it takes to do right by those relatives.  My heart so grieves with them.

Previously, I mentioned the blessings that all in close proximity can experience.  The day I’d seen my friend with the flowers, she explained her grandparents once owned a peony farm.  Her grandfather made hybrids from some of his favorite blooms and named them after his wife and children.  My friend and her siblings all have bulbs in their yards. 

Apparently, hybrids bloom early and on a day when she was missing her mother, the flowers opened.  So, you can imagine my joy upon entering my office and finding said fantastic flowers on my desk! She chose to share with me the Lois blossoms (my blessing). 

I sure hope, should I have to make such decisions for my parents, I will have the same grace and poise as my friend.  I don’t have a field of peonies to remember my baby cousin by but I will treat the sweet memories of the kiddo my heart loves as the first beautiful blooms of every season.

This was created for Nadeana as her entry into the Headstart cookbook that year.  I never thought it odd that she should have a dish named after her.  It was a Na thing. 

The flower business is still in my friend's family.  The flowers were wonderful and all of my office mates got joy from her gift.  We also got the story so it was a great couple of days all the way around! 

PSALM

If you didn’t know this; I’m really a crybaby.  I cry at good 30 second commercials; when I see sweet things happen between folks in relationship; when I think about folks and situations that have deeply touched me; and sometimes when the missing of loved ones (that have moved to glory) takes me under.

I remember the first time I saw Mel Gibson’s (okay the only time) Passion of the Christ.  My son and I went together.  He was a young teenager – hanging with his moms.  Oh how I cried, flinched, got angry, sat in awe of the depth of the sacrifice made on my behalf, and cried some more.  I clearly concluded…”Ya’ll better be glad I wasn’t called in Jesus’ place cause ya’ll sure would have been lost!” 

Yes, the story was heart wrenching and the beatings were truly traumatizing but I tell you the truth (little King James Version for your day) those are not the things that really messed me up in that movie.  No, the thing that got me was this:

Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.

John 15:13

I could add a lot more here.  I could tell you I can hear the ole saints at church shouting, “Good God!, Great Day in the Moring!, Glory!, and Hallelujah!  But, I’d rather invite you to celebrate with me - that Christ is Lord and He has RISEN!

Toiz Psalms to God ©

5/18/04

My Friend, my Savior and my God.

You are everywhere and in everything.

You are the great I AM, the Bright and Morning Star, The Living Word.

Truly you are worthy to be praised and I praise you Father – not for what you’ve done for me-

But because you are God and God all by yourself.

I’m so thankful for your intercessions on my behalf.  You’re so lovely, so mighty, just, faithful, magnificent, gracious and awesome!

Lord, I appreciate the gifts of tests you send my way because I understand that you trust me to be successful at passing the test – and you will be glorified in the process.

Jesus, you’re my revelation and my comforter.  You are Holy, honorable and everlasting.  I’m grateful for your patience.  You are the lover of my soul and I’m so humbled by your persistence.

My Father, you’re my creator, you’re the creator of all!  You’re good, strong, pure and the prefect-or of peace.

You’re so involved, so big, unchanging, reliable, so precious, fair and sweet!

You surprise me Father with your fierce vengeance for me.  You are my re-regard.  I know you’ve got my back against temptation.

I thank you Lord for your correction.  I know you love me and that you are love.  You’re a burden bearer, a way maker and a healer.

You are all powerful, the anointed one and you are able to do the unimaginable.

You are my encouragement and I will be victorious because you are my provider.

Amen

CIRCLES, CONSTELLATIONS & SKIPPJON JONES!

Let me begin by apologizing to my mother and dear friend and co-worker LM.  The mini hero I’m about to tell you about makes them sick (actually, I think my joy over the mini hero is what gets to them).  I “met” Skippjon Jones© many years ago.  When I met him he was teaching children colors and shapes in books so I didn’t realize a thing about the whole world of Skippyjon Jones© although I wondered about his funny looks.  I liked the way his name rolled out of my mouth when I would read the book to my little friends at work.  Around the same time, one of my cousin’s got a teacup little dog (yes I know teacup = little but the dog was really little) who looked suspiciously like Skippyjon Jones©.

Anyway, as I often do, I’ve digressed;  I went to the teacher/parent conference (yes, I do know it’s parent/teacher but I figure they call the meeting so it’s really teacher/parent conference) only to run into the annual book fair.  I love books! I found a Skippyjon Jones© book and bought it without flipping through the pages. 

It was upon reading the book I learned about the world of Skippyjon Jones©.  He’s a cat not a dog (which explained his funny ears) but he thinks he looks more like a Chihuahua so he says that’s what he is.  He’s a really cool kiddo that has a stick horse and imaginary playmates.  The book I had (someone has my book but no one is confessing – the children are tired of me asking about it and I guess based on my tone they automatically know what I’m about to ask for because they respond “we don’t have your book”) my sweet little hero steals bones from the dog next door. 

His mother tells him he best put them back but he ignores her.  The next thing you know, the dog is at the door and my hero wakes up on the couch with a Band-Aid on his head asking what happened?   I love the little dude’s imagination, his stick horse and I love that his mother let him experience some natural consequences.

Anyhoo; somehow (I can’t imagine how it happened) my co-worker’s became aware of my luv for Skippyjon Jones©.  One co-worker gave me a puzzle book of him as she thought me and the children would enjoy it (as if I’d let them touch my book) and another co-worker showed me my cute little hero’s animated stories (that did it) and even found me the cutest little stuffed Skippyjon Jones©.

However,  my joy over being with my little hero daily made some folks jealous in the office and he was kidnapped! I received a ransom note but didn’t have time to adequately respond to it.   I took it well for a little while but thought I would have to file a police report when he was gone for two weeks.  I gathered forensic evidence upon his return and planned to call some investigators I know to come in and sweep the building (if they had time to join our fun and games) but, things got busy and I didn’t get the chance.  I also got smart and figured out whoever stole him knew what a fool I was acting over my cute little stuffed doll so I calmed myself and tried to let it go so they couldn’t have power over me! 

The next thing that happened was there was an office auction and I was gifted a beautiful (tongue in cheek - she has scary eyes) grey cat (I thought to keep Skippyjon Jones© company like a surrogate mother) but later learned the cat had devious plans for my little hero.  Then…. he was stolen again!

By that time, the tension in the building over pending and looming changes were too deep for me to get into the game of investigating who stole my Skippyjon Jones© but he was never far from my mind.  Okay, I bet you’ve guessed that I work with a bunch of NUTS!  But we sit with and and wade through a great deal of trauma with the Soldiers and Families we serve so comedic relief is welcomed. 

There are always changes in life.  We’ve experienced some and I will not be working daily with some women that I’ve grown to respect and care deeply for which saddens my heart.  I admitted (I think I knew but just admitted) that I really don’t adjust well to change but I’m leaving it in my resume as a strength – smile. 

On the last day we were all together; Skippyjon Jones© and I were reunited (and it feels so good)!  It was the culprit I thought it was or was it?????  I don’t think I will ever know because as she was in my office so was another co-worker who had previously been involved in the kidnapping of my mini hero (somehow). 

Although I can’t fully digest how much my day job will stretch and change, I know I will miss them.  They’ve added a great deal to my professional and personal growth.  We’ll never be the same constellation again.  I will miss the laughs but most of all I will just miss them. 


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MelPKaT8PpU