It was an unusually warm January day. The world was bright and beautiful. It felt much more like springtime than it did winter. A little boy climbed a hill using his walker, a constant reminder of his disability. As I climbed the hill beside him I had no idea that a miracle was waiting for us at the top?
You see, there was an enchanted object waiting for us to arrive. Most kids take these magical possessions for granted, often leaving them out in the rain or lying in the grass where they drop them to lay forgotten until dad mows the lawn. Those kids don't see the magic of the object, to them it's just a common thing, something everybody has. Sweet G and I know that there is nothing ordinary about this thing because we know that the one waiting for us has the ability to make disability totally disappear.
Sweet G approached the item with the aid of his walker but once he turned loose and was safely seated, his disability faded away. It not only faded away for Sweet G, it disappeared from the consciousness of everyone on that hilltop. For an hour Sweet G was just a normal kid. My husband and I were just typical parents. We witnessed something that I had given up hope of G ever being able to experience.
You are probably wondering what was waiting for us on the hill that day. It was a bicycle, not a regular bicycle but a magical one. Someone special provided a hand cycle for children at Infinity Children Services to use. I have no idea who they are but I owe them a huge thank you because when he was on that bike something mystical happened. As he put his hands on the handgrips and started to pedal, he broke away from the bonds of his disability.
We spent the next hour running back and forth in the parking lot on top of the hill laughing, cheering and forgetting that disability exists. For an hour Sweet G literally pushed his therapist aside and said, "I've got this. I don't need you." Giggles filled the air as my little boy sped back and forth in a small parking lot on a magical bicycle that has the ability to make disability disappear. For an hour he was simply a little boy having a normal experience with his parents.
Sweet G's passion for life outshines the darkness of his disability. He inspires me to overcome the challenges I face with dignity and grace. Sweet G has life figured out. He knows the secret to living a full and abundant life regardless of his circumstances. The world would be a better place if we were all a little more like my G. If a miracle cure was found today that would forever erase every trace of G's disability, I'm not sure I'd want him to receive it. However, I would like for G to have one of those magic hand cycles so that when ever he wanted we could make his disability disappear for an hour or two. ; )
Showing posts with label Memories. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Memories. Show all posts
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
Saturday, January 28, 2012
Our Smokie Mountain Adventure: Part 1
The day was filled with excitement because my family and I were leaving after school to go on a weekend trip with a few of my classmates from high school. We had rented a huge house and were going to spend the next three days catching up with each other. It had been snowing here most of the day so school was released early. We hurriedly finished packing and finally hit the snow covered roads headed for the mountains three hours away. A few of my classmates had already arrived at the cabin and reported no problems on the roads, so we kept our focus on getting there as quickly and safely as possible.
The roads began looking worse the farther from home we got. It was late afternoon and we felt sure that if we made it by dark we would be okay. My son and his girlfriend we're following us in his car. It is his first real experience on the interstate and his first time driving in snow. Needless to say, I was a nervous wreck. About half way into our trip I started to feel sorta queasy. I assume that it is nerves and car sickness and manage to keep my nausea at bay until we stop for a bathroom break. As we are about to pull back out into the roadway a sudden surge of nausea hits and I lose both my battle and lunch in the blink of an eye. It is now that I start to question whether I could possibly be suffering from more than car sickness and nerves but we have come to far to turn back now. We are closer to the cabin than we are to home and it is beginning to get dark.
Back on the highway we drive slowly making our way to our destination. We turn off the main road onto a very narrow country road filled with hills and curves.. Cars are sliding off the roadway. So far we are fine and haven't had any trouble. We were within a couple of miles of our destination. This is the point that my "friends" decide to tell us that we will not be able to get to the house. The drive is icy and dangerous. They tell us to stop at a convenience store about a mile from the cabin.
I have managed to keep from throwing up since our last stop but as the gravity of our current situation sinks in, my nausea comes back with a vengeance. My husband buys me some zip lock baggies and I begin to fill them up. One mile separates us from a nice cozy cabin filled with old friends. We can't walk the rest of the way in the dark pushing our disabled son in his wheelchair. What are we going to do?
To be continued. . .
The roads began looking worse the farther from home we got. It was late afternoon and we felt sure that if we made it by dark we would be okay. My son and his girlfriend we're following us in his car. It is his first real experience on the interstate and his first time driving in snow. Needless to say, I was a nervous wreck. About half way into our trip I started to feel sorta queasy. I assume that it is nerves and car sickness and manage to keep my nausea at bay until we stop for a bathroom break. As we are about to pull back out into the roadway a sudden surge of nausea hits and I lose both my battle and lunch in the blink of an eye. It is now that I start to question whether I could possibly be suffering from more than car sickness and nerves but we have come to far to turn back now. We are closer to the cabin than we are to home and it is beginning to get dark.
Back on the highway we drive slowly making our way to our destination. We turn off the main road onto a very narrow country road filled with hills and curves.. Cars are sliding off the roadway. So far we are fine and haven't had any trouble. We were within a couple of miles of our destination. This is the point that my "friends" decide to tell us that we will not be able to get to the house. The drive is icy and dangerous. They tell us to stop at a convenience store about a mile from the cabin.
I have managed to keep from throwing up since our last stop but as the gravity of our current situation sinks in, my nausea comes back with a vengeance. My husband buys me some zip lock baggies and I begin to fill them up. One mile separates us from a nice cozy cabin filled with old friends. We can't walk the rest of the way in the dark pushing our disabled son in his wheelchair. What are we going to do?
To be continued. . .
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
Standing at the Screen Door
My parents divorced before I was old enough to retain any memories of the time they were together. There is not one picture of me with both of my parents. Not one trace of evidence from the life we lived together. For that reason I find it impossible to imagine that we ever had the same last name or lived together as a family although we did for only a short time.
In my earliest memory I am standing at a screen door crying for my parents. From what I can remember I believe it must have been springtime which means I was less than two years old. My mother's sister is telling me that my Mom is at work and that my Daddy will be here soon to pick me up. That first memory is one of loss, abandonment, fear, and confusion. It explains a lot about who I am and how my personality was formed. I understand so many things about who I am and how that first memory held me prisoner without me realizing it.
I spent many years feeling like a victim. Social situations almost crippled me. I scrutinized every conversation and became my own worst enemy. Fear and shame were my constant companions until I slowly started seeing myself the way God sees me. Little by little I gained a new self image and stopped worrying about what others thought so much. Those feelings have not gone away but I have learned to control them instead of letting them control me.
Lately I've been feeling somewhat like that little girl; confused, afraid, alone, abandoned, unloved. I know that those feelings are real and justified but unlike that baby girl standing at the screen door I don't have to let those feelings define me or hold me prisoner. I have a new identity in Christ. He will never leave me or forsake me. He shelters me beneath His wings.
In my earliest memory I am standing at a screen door crying for my parents. From what I can remember I believe it must have been springtime which means I was less than two years old. My mother's sister is telling me that my Mom is at work and that my Daddy will be here soon to pick me up. That first memory is one of loss, abandonment, fear, and confusion. It explains a lot about who I am and how my personality was formed. I understand so many things about who I am and how that first memory held me prisoner without me realizing it.
I spent many years feeling like a victim. Social situations almost crippled me. I scrutinized every conversation and became my own worst enemy. Fear and shame were my constant companions until I slowly started seeing myself the way God sees me. Little by little I gained a new self image and stopped worrying about what others thought so much. Those feelings have not gone away but I have learned to control them instead of letting them control me.
Lately I've been feeling somewhat like that little girl; confused, afraid, alone, abandoned, unloved. I know that those feelings are real and justified but unlike that baby girl standing at the screen door I don't have to let those feelings define me or hold me prisoner. I have a new identity in Christ. He will never leave me or forsake me. He shelters me beneath His wings.
Psalm 17:8-9 (KJV)
8Keep me as the apple of the eye, hide me under the shadow of thy wings,
Monday, November 28, 2011
Christmas Tree
December 1984:
A young couple sit together in their tiny apartment discussing their decorating plans for their first Christmas as husband and wife. The ink on their marriage license is barely dry, having only been married for three months. They are both college students and their only source of income is from his part time work with his father and the generosity of their parents. Their bills are paid and they have plenty to eat but frivolous purchases aren't made. Desire to make every experience special urges them to purchase a small tree only two feet tall. A strand of lights and a box of cheap wooden ornaments accompany the small tree back to the couple's home. The young wife cuts a star from yellow construction paper and her husband fashions an angel from a paper plate. A decision can't be reached on the choice between the angel and the star so the couple makes one of many compromises as husband and wife. The star is glued onto the front of the angel before they are both placed on top of the tree.
December 1985:
The same young couple travel to a Christmas tree farm and choose a beautiful tree to place in their home for their second Christmas. The earthy scent of the tree fills their home as they place the same lights and wooden ornaments on their tree. A new ornament is added to commemorate this year spent together. The young woman strings popcorn and cranberries to add as a garland for their tree. Memories are being made and traditions are being formed.
December 1986:
The couple now live in their third home. It is a small brown house two blocks from the center of their small hometown. A beautiful artificial tree is purchased for their new home. Pretty ruffled curtains hang on the windows of their home. A new living room suite, television, washer and dryer, a beautiful oak dining set and refrigerator have been added to their possessions since their last Christmas. A new ornament is added to their tree to honor another year spent together.
December 1991:
This year two ornaments are added to the Christmas tree. One ornament for the couple and one for their baby's first Christmas. Each year they have added a new ornament to their tree. Popcorn and cranberries are strung by the young woman like many years before. This is a special Christmas because it is their first year as parents.
December 1994:
The couple built a new house this year. It is their first Christmas in the home they have dreamed of for so long. Two new ornaments are added to their tree.
December 2003:
A new baby graces the lives of the little family bringing with him new experiences and new ornaments to represent them.
December 2011:
Two trees grace the couple's home. They live in their fifth home. Their two sons have grown. The oldest is a sophomore in college and the youngest is eight years old. Three ornaments will be added to a tree that is already filled with 27 years worth of ornaments. One of the cheap wooden ornaments is hung on the tree along side many others that have been added over the years. There is a birds nest with a dove nestled in the branches of the tree. It was made by the woman when she was nine years old. Beside the nest hangs a beaded ornament made by the man when he was nine years old. Ornaments that represent babies first years, tee ball, a trip to Disneyworld, a new job, graduation, the first year of college. A lifetime of memories fill the tree.
I came across that first star angel when we were decorating our tree. I have kept it all these years. It brought a smile to my face as I remembered how it felt to be 18 years old, sitting in the floor of that tiny college apartment cutting that construction paper star to put on our bare tree. God has blessed me more than I deserve. That young girl could never have imagined how full our Christmas tree would be someday, filled with the ornaments that represent the memories we have made together. Our Christmas tree has been ever changing like our lives. Someday soon our oldest son will move out and begin his life as we did. He will carry all his ornaments with him when he goes and his first Christmas tree will be filled with memories of Christmas past.
A young couple sit together in their tiny apartment discussing their decorating plans for their first Christmas as husband and wife. The ink on their marriage license is barely dry, having only been married for three months. They are both college students and their only source of income is from his part time work with his father and the generosity of their parents. Their bills are paid and they have plenty to eat but frivolous purchases aren't made. Desire to make every experience special urges them to purchase a small tree only two feet tall. A strand of lights and a box of cheap wooden ornaments accompany the small tree back to the couple's home. The young wife cuts a star from yellow construction paper and her husband fashions an angel from a paper plate. A decision can't be reached on the choice between the angel and the star so the couple makes one of many compromises as husband and wife. The star is glued onto the front of the angel before they are both placed on top of the tree.
December 1985:
The same young couple travel to a Christmas tree farm and choose a beautiful tree to place in their home for their second Christmas. The earthy scent of the tree fills their home as they place the same lights and wooden ornaments on their tree. A new ornament is added to commemorate this year spent together. The young woman strings popcorn and cranberries to add as a garland for their tree. Memories are being made and traditions are being formed.
December 1986:
The couple now live in their third home. It is a small brown house two blocks from the center of their small hometown. A beautiful artificial tree is purchased for their new home. Pretty ruffled curtains hang on the windows of their home. A new living room suite, television, washer and dryer, a beautiful oak dining set and refrigerator have been added to their possessions since their last Christmas. A new ornament is added to their tree to honor another year spent together.
December 1991:
This year two ornaments are added to the Christmas tree. One ornament for the couple and one for their baby's first Christmas. Each year they have added a new ornament to their tree. Popcorn and cranberries are strung by the young woman like many years before. This is a special Christmas because it is their first year as parents.
December 1994:
The couple built a new house this year. It is their first Christmas in the home they have dreamed of for so long. Two new ornaments are added to their tree.
December 2003:
A new baby graces the lives of the little family bringing with him new experiences and new ornaments to represent them.
December 2011:
Two trees grace the couple's home. They live in their fifth home. Their two sons have grown. The oldest is a sophomore in college and the youngest is eight years old. Three ornaments will be added to a tree that is already filled with 27 years worth of ornaments. One of the cheap wooden ornaments is hung on the tree along side many others that have been added over the years. There is a birds nest with a dove nestled in the branches of the tree. It was made by the woman when she was nine years old. Beside the nest hangs a beaded ornament made by the man when he was nine years old. Ornaments that represent babies first years, tee ball, a trip to Disneyworld, a new job, graduation, the first year of college. A lifetime of memories fill the tree.
I came across that first star angel when we were decorating our tree. I have kept it all these years. It brought a smile to my face as I remembered how it felt to be 18 years old, sitting in the floor of that tiny college apartment cutting that construction paper star to put on our bare tree. God has blessed me more than I deserve. That young girl could never have imagined how full our Christmas tree would be someday, filled with the ornaments that represent the memories we have made together. Our Christmas tree has been ever changing like our lives. Someday soon our oldest son will move out and begin his life as we did. He will carry all his ornaments with him when he goes and his first Christmas tree will be filled with memories of Christmas past.
Thursday, November 10, 2011
Autumn Memories
Fall is here and it brought along with it memories of years gone by. Years of running and playing with T underneath trees adorned in beautiful jewel colored dresses. Soft breezes nipping at our noses causing them to turn red and become as cold as ice. The absence of summer's birdsongs make it almost too eerie to stay outside but we have hide and seek to keep us busy. I am content to be outside until darkness begins to close in around us because I have the king of the hill by my side.
The memory of another fall day comes into focus. I see a tow-haired boy about two years old running through a pile of leaves. His giggles rising above the sound of an approaching train. He is dressed in red overalls and a white turtle neck. His speech is filled with the sounds of y as he excitedly tells me to, "do it yike dis." Suddenly he is transformed into a cowboy and takes off "yiding a buwll" with his arm flailing wildly as his head nods back and forth bucking to the rhythm of the imaginary bull. Slowly the sun begins to set and my heart starts to break as we have to let this day end.
Memories of hayrides with fellow homeschoolers push themselves the the center of my attention. Bowls of warm spicy chili lend us their heat as they fill our stomachs. The sounds of children laughing float down to parent's ears as the adventurous children climb higher into the rafters of the barn over mounds of fresh bails of hay. Sweet songs and giggles dance into the night as a tractor pulls a wagon loaded with families nestled in sweet fresh hay. All too soon this day is over and reluctant children are shooed toward cars and home.
Six years ago we started hosting a Halloween party in our home. We have several special families that have come to our home year after year to celebrate fall with us. A traditional supper of chili and hot dogs is served before we all set out in my neighborhood for a fun night of trick-or-treating. There are special memories being made for adults as well as children. Each year is a little different as one by one our children grow too old to dress up and participate in the ritual of going from house to house gathering candy. This year our kids sat in the floor, sorted their candy, and began trading with each other. I sat and soaked in their energetic giggles and silly comments, knowing that there will never be another Halloween quite like this one.
The last memory comes into my mind in a rush. It is a cool fall evening after dark. Children begin to explore a haunted forest filled with witches and monsters and their screams fill the night. They play hide and seek until one by one parents arrive to retrieve them. This will be the last Halloween of their childhood. The next time Halloween will hold the same excitement will be years in the future when they take their own children trick or treating.
Life has a way of slipping by you if you're not careful. I find that it's the little spontaneous moments that keep returning to my mind. As I go through life I pray that I don't forget to stop and enjoy the simple pleasures a day can bring. They are always there waiting for us to seek them out, if only we will try. Ready or not, here I come!
The memory of another fall day comes into focus. I see a tow-haired boy about two years old running through a pile of leaves. His giggles rising above the sound of an approaching train. He is dressed in red overalls and a white turtle neck. His speech is filled with the sounds of y as he excitedly tells me to, "do it yike dis." Suddenly he is transformed into a cowboy and takes off "yiding a buwll" with his arm flailing wildly as his head nods back and forth bucking to the rhythm of the imaginary bull. Slowly the sun begins to set and my heart starts to break as we have to let this day end.
Memories of hayrides with fellow homeschoolers push themselves the the center of my attention. Bowls of warm spicy chili lend us their heat as they fill our stomachs. The sounds of children laughing float down to parent's ears as the adventurous children climb higher into the rafters of the barn over mounds of fresh bails of hay. Sweet songs and giggles dance into the night as a tractor pulls a wagon loaded with families nestled in sweet fresh hay. All too soon this day is over and reluctant children are shooed toward cars and home.
Six years ago we started hosting a Halloween party in our home. We have several special families that have come to our home year after year to celebrate fall with us. A traditional supper of chili and hot dogs is served before we all set out in my neighborhood for a fun night of trick-or-treating. There are special memories being made for adults as well as children. Each year is a little different as one by one our children grow too old to dress up and participate in the ritual of going from house to house gathering candy. This year our kids sat in the floor, sorted their candy, and began trading with each other. I sat and soaked in their energetic giggles and silly comments, knowing that there will never be another Halloween quite like this one.
The last memory comes into my mind in a rush. It is a cool fall evening after dark. Children begin to explore a haunted forest filled with witches and monsters and their screams fill the night. They play hide and seek until one by one parents arrive to retrieve them. This will be the last Halloween of their childhood. The next time Halloween will hold the same excitement will be years in the future when they take their own children trick or treating.
Life has a way of slipping by you if you're not careful. I find that it's the little spontaneous moments that keep returning to my mind. As I go through life I pray that I don't forget to stop and enjoy the simple pleasures a day can bring. They are always there waiting for us to seek them out, if only we will try. Ready or not, here I come!
Monday, July 4, 2011
We Weren't Just Fishin
When I was a little girl my Daddy would often take me fishing. He taught me how to cast my line in my grandparents' front yard underneath the shade of a big white oak tree planted by my Papaw. Daddy tied a washer on the end of my line and made me practice casting into an imaginary lake. My grandmother sat on her front porch swing watching as I cast my line time after time until one of my casts went astray and hit the swing she was sitting on. That washer hit the chain on that swing and whipped around it several times entangling itself completely into that chain. Mamaw let out a little yell and cried, "Oh, Ellis! That child is going to kill me!" My Daddy replied, "Well get in the house woman. I am trying to teach this girl how to fish."
When Daddy finally took me fishing he went prepared. He loaded up his tackle box, our fishing poles, a can of freshly dug worms, and most important of all he always carried me a snack. Daddy loved telling people about those fishing trips and he never failed to tell them that I was ready to eat as soon as we got to the lake even though he always made me fish for a little while before he allowed me to eat. After catching a few brim I was through fishing and ready to move on to the food. The thing my Daddy liked about this story was telling people what I always brought to eat. I always carried an onion and a leftover biscuit from breakfast. I know it sounds crazy but I ate onions like you would eat an apple and there was never anything that could match my Mamaw's cold biscuits.
Back then I thought we were just fishing on those summer days but now I see that it was so much more than that. Daddy was making memories for me. He did that a lot. I think that since he only saw me for 30 hours each weekend he realized how precious time was so he made every attempt to make each activity special. He longed to be a major part of my life in the very limited amount of time he was given. He squeezed in as many memories as he could every weekend we were together and all the time I thought we were just fishing.
We Weren't Just Fishin
When I was a little girl my Daddy would often take me fishing. He taught me how to cast my line in my grandparents' front yard underneath the shade of a big white oak tree planted by my Papaw. Daddy tied a washer on the end of my line and made me practice casting into an imaginary lake. My grandmother sat on her front porch swing watching as I cast my line time after time until one of my casts went astray and hit the swing she was sitting on. That washer hit the chain on that swing and whipped around it several times entangling itself completely into that chain. Mamaw let out a little yell and cried, "Oh, Ellis! That child is going to kill me!" My Daddy replied, "Well get in the house woman. I am trying to teach this girl how to fish."
When Daddy finally took me fishing he went prepared. He loaded up his tackle box, our fishing poles, a can of freshly dug worms, and most important of all he always carried me a snack. Daddy loved telling people about those fishing trips and he never failed to tell them that I was ready to eat as soon as we got to the lake even though he always made me fish for a little while before he allowed me to eat. After catching a few brim I was through fishing and ready to move on to the food. The thing my Daddy liked about this story was telling people what I always brought to eat. I always carried an onion and a leftover biscuit from breakfast. I know it sounds crazy but I ate onions like you would eat an apple and there was never anything that could match my Mamaw's cold biscuits.
Back then I thought we were just fishing on those summer days but now I see that it was so much more than that. Daddy was making memories for me. He did that a lot. I think that since he only saw me for 30 hours each weekend he realized how precious time was so he made every attempt to make each activity special. He longed to be a major part of my life in the very limited amount of time he was given. He squeezed in as many memories as he could every weekend we were together and all the time I thought we were just fishing.
Sunday, June 5, 2011
Fruit Ninja on the Prairie
I have been reading the Laura Ingles Wilder series of books to Sweet G. His love of all things electronic hinders his ability to comprehend a life without modern inventions. I continue trying to paint a clear picture of pioneer America for him but frankly I don't know if I will ever be successful. The very basic simple life pioneers lived is very foreign to someone living in the 21st century. It is hard to imagine life without electricity, phones (landlines and cells), stores within walking distance, or better yet Internet shopping and Fed Ex!
As I read to a child I often stop and ask questions to teach them good reading strategies. Last week we were reading the chapter Scream in the Night from Little House on the Prairie. The story was set in the log home of the Ingles family in the middle of the night. Everyone was suddenly awakened by a terrifying scream piercing the night air. Since the family was living in Indian country where there had been unrest at times they feared being attacked. The immediate thoughts of the parents was that their neighbors two miles away were being attacked or were in terrible trouble. Pa dressed and took his gun to go and find out what was happening. Ma told the girls to go to sleep and she got into bed but didn't go back to sleep but lay there listening.
This is where I stopped reading and asked, "G, why do you think Ma went back to bed but didn't go back to sleep?"
He thought for a second before saying, "Maybe she was watching a movie."
"No, remember G they didn't have electricity or a television. She wasn't watching a movie."
He thought some more and with a huge grin on his face he said, "Maybe she was playing a game."
"Now, G, who would play games in the middle of the night? Ma was not playing a game", I said.
"Well you play games in the middle of the night. Maybe Ma was playing Fruit Ninja like you do."
I have to say that although he was totally off base in his answer, his reasoning behind it was great! He simply related his answer to what he already knows. He lives in a world where Ma plays games in the middle of the night and takes naps in the middle of the day. Gadgets and gizmos fill his world until it is busting at the seams and he just can't quiet imagine a life without those things. Needless to say we still have some serious work before we have history mastered. So, I guess I will just keep trying to convince my funny little boy there was once a life without stand-up comedians, cable television, and iPad games for Moms to play in the middle of the night. ; )
As I read to a child I often stop and ask questions to teach them good reading strategies. Last week we were reading the chapter Scream in the Night from Little House on the Prairie. The story was set in the log home of the Ingles family in the middle of the night. Everyone was suddenly awakened by a terrifying scream piercing the night air. Since the family was living in Indian country where there had been unrest at times they feared being attacked. The immediate thoughts of the parents was that their neighbors two miles away were being attacked or were in terrible trouble. Pa dressed and took his gun to go and find out what was happening. Ma told the girls to go to sleep and she got into bed but didn't go back to sleep but lay there listening.
This is where I stopped reading and asked, "G, why do you think Ma went back to bed but didn't go back to sleep?"
He thought for a second before saying, "Maybe she was watching a movie."
"No, remember G they didn't have electricity or a television. She wasn't watching a movie."
He thought some more and with a huge grin on his face he said, "Maybe she was playing a game."
"Now, G, who would play games in the middle of the night? Ma was not playing a game", I said.
"Well you play games in the middle of the night. Maybe Ma was playing Fruit Ninja like you do."
I have to say that although he was totally off base in his answer, his reasoning behind it was great! He simply related his answer to what he already knows. He lives in a world where Ma plays games in the middle of the night and takes naps in the middle of the day. Gadgets and gizmos fill his world until it is busting at the seams and he just can't quiet imagine a life without those things. Needless to say we still have some serious work before we have history mastered. So, I guess I will just keep trying to convince my funny little boy there was once a life without stand-up comedians, cable television, and iPad games for Moms to play in the middle of the night. ; )
Fruit Ninja on the Prairie
I have been reading the Laura Ingles Wilder series of books to Sweet G. His love of all things electronic hinders his ability to comprehend a life without modern inventions. I continue trying to paint a clear picture of pioneer America for him but frankly I don't know if I will ever be successful. The very basic simple life pioneers lived is very foreign to someone living in the 21st century. It is hard to imagine life without electricity, phones (landlines and cells), stores within walking distance, or better yet Internet shopping and Fed Ex!
As I read to a child I often stop and ask questions to teach them good reading strategies. Last week we were reading the chapter Scream in the Night from Little House on the Prairie. The story was set in the log home of the Ingles family in the middle of the night. Everyone was suddenly awakened by a terrifying scream piercing the night air. Since the family was living in Indian country where there had been unrest at times they feared being attacked. The immediate thoughts of the parents was that their neighbors two miles away were being attacked or were in terrible trouble. Pa dressed and took his gun to go and find out what was happening. Ma told the girls to go to sleep and she got into bed but didn't go back to sleep but lay there listening.
This is where I stopped reading and asked, "G, why do you think Ma went back to bed but didn't go back to sleep?"
He thought for a second before saying, "Maybe she was watching a movie."
"No, remember G they didn't have electricity or a television. She wasn't watching a movie."
He thought some more and with a huge grin on his face he said, "Maybe she was playing a game."
"Now, G, who would play games in the middle of the night? Ma was not playing a game", I said.
"Well you play games in the middle of the night. Maybe Ma was playing Fruit Ninja like you do."
I have to say that although he was totally off base in his answer, his reasoning behind it was great! He simply related his answer to what he already knows. He lives in a world where Ma plays games in the middle of the night and takes naps in the middle of the day. Gadgets and gizmos fill his world until it is busting at the seams and he just can't quiet imagine a life without those things. Needless to say we still have some serious work before we have history mastered. So, I guess I will just keep trying to convince my funny little boy there was once a life without stand-up comedians, cable television, and iPad games for Moms to play in the middle of the night. ; )
As I read to a child I often stop and ask questions to teach them good reading strategies. Last week we were reading the chapter Scream in the Night from Little House on the Prairie. The story was set in the log home of the Ingles family in the middle of the night. Everyone was suddenly awakened by a terrifying scream piercing the night air. Since the family was living in Indian country where there had been unrest at times they feared being attacked. The immediate thoughts of the parents was that their neighbors two miles away were being attacked or were in terrible trouble. Pa dressed and took his gun to go and find out what was happening. Ma told the girls to go to sleep and she got into bed but didn't go back to sleep but lay there listening.
This is where I stopped reading and asked, "G, why do you think Ma went back to bed but didn't go back to sleep?"
He thought for a second before saying, "Maybe she was watching a movie."
"No, remember G they didn't have electricity or a television. She wasn't watching a movie."
He thought some more and with a huge grin on his face he said, "Maybe she was playing a game."
"Now, G, who would play games in the middle of the night? Ma was not playing a game", I said.
"Well you play games in the middle of the night. Maybe Ma was playing Fruit Ninja like you do."
I have to say that although he was totally off base in his answer, his reasoning behind it was great! He simply related his answer to what he already knows. He lives in a world where Ma plays games in the middle of the night and takes naps in the middle of the day. Gadgets and gizmos fill his world until it is busting at the seams and he just can't quiet imagine a life without those things. Needless to say we still have some serious work before we have history mastered. So, I guess I will just keep trying to convince my funny little boy there was once a life without stand-up comedians, cable television, and iPad games for Moms to play in the middle of the night. ; )
Sunday, April 17, 2011
The Haircut
Last night I gave my husband a haircut. He likes to keep his hair pretty short and typically asks me to cut it several times before we are able to get around to cutting it. We had just finished a few projects around the house and since I had the vacuum hose out I decided to offer to cut his hair. He quickly took me up on the offer. He went into to wash his hair before I cut it in order to get rid of a bad case hat hair caused from wearing a baseball cap all day.
I wanted to give him the total salon experience so I followed him into the bathroom and asked if I could help him wash his hair. He knelt in the floor and held his head over the bathtub as I used the sprayer to wet and wash his hair. I was so happy to be able to give him a haircut without him having to ask for weeks until I found time to cut it.
We went into the living room where a wooden chair and the clippers were waiting. I started cutting with a shorter guard than I typically use because he likes his hair shorter than I like it. I was going for all the great wife bonus points. The clippers glided smoothly across his head as I cut the sides and the back. I was going for a high and tight like the haircuts he got when we were first married and he was in the reserves and ROTC.
A smile crept across my face as I cut. I knew that this act of kindness as simple as it was meant so much to my precious husband. After finishing up the back and sides it was time to change guards to do the top. I looked into the case and quickly spotted the guard marked 3 and snapped it onto the clippers. With one smooth stroke I ran the clippers across the top of his head. Something didn't look right. I let out an audible gasp as I quickly jerked the clippers around and saw that the guard I had used did have a 3 on it but was followed by mm. In the center of the guard was the number 1. I had used the next to smallest guard on the top of his head. It was shorter on top than it was on the sides.
My heart sunk! I felt panic and humiliation rushing in on me like a flood. Joey immediately began to comfort me. He said, "You finally cut it the way I like it. It really feels great already. I am happy so don't be upset."
I almost cried but his continual praise and encouragement helped me overcome the tragedy and when I looked into his eyes I could only laugh and apologize. I have learned over the years that mishaps turn out to be the best memories so I am learning to see the humor in things as they happen instead of beating myself up over my mistakes.
I want you to understand that my laughter was not a sign that I didn't care about what I had just done to my sweet husband. I still feel bad about it. I explained to him that I laughed because I could cut one of his ears off accidentally and he would say, "I am so glad you did that. I have always wanted to have only one ear. I really think it looks good, don't you?"
He really would, he's just that sweet. I know, it's sickening how he always tries to protect me but I truly am thankful. I love that man more every second that I live.
I thought it was strange that our oldest son didn't acknowledge his dad's extreme haircut when he came home. I figured that he had and that Joey was just telling me he didn't to save my feelings. This afternoon I asked T if he noticed his dad's hair and he smiled a sweet smile and said, "I was told not to say anything, he sent me a text last night while I was at work telling me what happened and warning me to keep silent."
I really did marry prince charming. He is my best friend, my biggest fan, and my most devoted defender. He did manage to curb any remarks from Trey but even he can't silence Sweet G. I kept hearing this little voice ringing through the house, "Daddy, you're bald. You've got a bald head." It was always followed by whispers and sushes. Well, it may be short but at least it will grow back. I sure am sorry honey.
I wanted to give him the total salon experience so I followed him into the bathroom and asked if I could help him wash his hair. He knelt in the floor and held his head over the bathtub as I used the sprayer to wet and wash his hair. I was so happy to be able to give him a haircut without him having to ask for weeks until I found time to cut it.
We went into the living room where a wooden chair and the clippers were waiting. I started cutting with a shorter guard than I typically use because he likes his hair shorter than I like it. I was going for all the great wife bonus points. The clippers glided smoothly across his head as I cut the sides and the back. I was going for a high and tight like the haircuts he got when we were first married and he was in the reserves and ROTC.
A smile crept across my face as I cut. I knew that this act of kindness as simple as it was meant so much to my precious husband. After finishing up the back and sides it was time to change guards to do the top. I looked into the case and quickly spotted the guard marked 3 and snapped it onto the clippers. With one smooth stroke I ran the clippers across the top of his head. Something didn't look right. I let out an audible gasp as I quickly jerked the clippers around and saw that the guard I had used did have a 3 on it but was followed by mm. In the center of the guard was the number 1. I had used the next to smallest guard on the top of his head. It was shorter on top than it was on the sides.
My heart sunk! I felt panic and humiliation rushing in on me like a flood. Joey immediately began to comfort me. He said, "You finally cut it the way I like it. It really feels great already. I am happy so don't be upset."
I almost cried but his continual praise and encouragement helped me overcome the tragedy and when I looked into his eyes I could only laugh and apologize. I have learned over the years that mishaps turn out to be the best memories so I am learning to see the humor in things as they happen instead of beating myself up over my mistakes.
I want you to understand that my laughter was not a sign that I didn't care about what I had just done to my sweet husband. I still feel bad about it. I explained to him that I laughed because I could cut one of his ears off accidentally and he would say, "I am so glad you did that. I have always wanted to have only one ear. I really think it looks good, don't you?"
He really would, he's just that sweet. I know, it's sickening how he always tries to protect me but I truly am thankful. I love that man more every second that I live.
I thought it was strange that our oldest son didn't acknowledge his dad's extreme haircut when he came home. I figured that he had and that Joey was just telling me he didn't to save my feelings. This afternoon I asked T if he noticed his dad's hair and he smiled a sweet smile and said, "I was told not to say anything, he sent me a text last night while I was at work telling me what happened and warning me to keep silent."
I really did marry prince charming. He is my best friend, my biggest fan, and my most devoted defender. He did manage to curb any remarks from Trey but even he can't silence Sweet G. I kept hearing this little voice ringing through the house, "Daddy, you're bald. You've got a bald head." It was always followed by whispers and sushes. Well, it may be short but at least it will grow back. I sure am sorry honey.
The Haircut
Last night I gave my husband a haircut. He likes to keep his hair pretty short and typically asks me to cut it several times before we are able to get around to cutting it. We had just finished a few projects around the house and since I had the vacuum hose out I decided to offer to cut his hair. He quickly took me up on the offer. He went into to wash his hair before I cut it in order to get rid of a bad case hat hair caused from wearing a baseball cap all day.
I wanted to give him the total salon experience so I followed him into the bathroom and asked if I could help him wash his hair. He knelt in the floor and held his head over the bathtub as I used the sprayer to wet and wash his hair. I was so happy to be able to give him a haircut without him having to ask for weeks until I found time to cut it.
We went into the living room where a wooden chair and the clippers were waiting. I started cutting with a shorter guard than I typically use because he likes his hair shorter than I like it. I was going for all the great wife bonus points. The clippers glided smoothly across his head as I cut the sides and the back. I was going for a high and tight like the haircuts he got when we were first married and he was in the reserves and ROTC.
A smile crept across my face as I cut. I knew that this act of kindness as simple as it was meant so much to my precious husband. After finishing up the back and sides it was time to change guards to do the top. I looked into the case and quickly spotted the guard marked 3 and snapped it onto the clippers. With one smooth stroke I ran the clippers across the top of his head. Something didn't look right. I let out an audible gasp as I quickly jerked the clippers around and saw that the guard I had used did have a 3 on it but was followed by mm. In the center of the guard was the number 1. I had used the next to smallest guard on the top of his head. It was shorter on top than it was on the sides.
My heart sunk! I felt panic and humiliation rushing in on me like a flood. Joey immediately began to comfort me. He said, "You finally cut it the way I like it. It really feels great already. I am happy so don't be upset."
I almost cried but his continual praise and encouragement helped me overcome the tragedy and when I looked into his eyes I could only laugh and apologize. I have learned over the years that mishaps turn out to be the best memories so I am learning to see the humor in things as they happen instead of beating myself up over my mistakes.
I want you to understand that my laughter was not a sign that I didn't care about what I had just done to my sweet husband. I still feel bad about it. I explained to him that I laughed because I could cut one of his ears off accidentally and he would say, "I am so glad you did that. I have always wanted to have only one ear. I really think it looks good, don't you?"
He really would, he's just that sweet. I know, it's sickening how he always tries to protect me but I truly am thankful. I love that man more every second that I live.
I thought it was strange that our oldest son didn't acknowledge his dad's extreme haircut when he came home. I figured that he had and that Joey was just telling me he didn't to save my feelings. This afternoon I asked T if he noticed his dad's hair and he smiled a sweet smile and said, "I was told not to say anything, he sent me a text last night while I was at work telling me what happened and warning me to keep silent."
I really did marry prince charming. He is my best friend, my biggest fan, and my most devoted defender. He did manage to curb any remarks from Trey but even he can't silence Sweet G. I kept hearing this little voice ringing through the house, "Daddy, you're bald. You've got a bald head." It was always followed by whispers and sushes. Well, it may be short but at least it will grow back. I sure am sorry honey.
I wanted to give him the total salon experience so I followed him into the bathroom and asked if I could help him wash his hair. He knelt in the floor and held his head over the bathtub as I used the sprayer to wet and wash his hair. I was so happy to be able to give him a haircut without him having to ask for weeks until I found time to cut it.
We went into the living room where a wooden chair and the clippers were waiting. I started cutting with a shorter guard than I typically use because he likes his hair shorter than I like it. I was going for all the great wife bonus points. The clippers glided smoothly across his head as I cut the sides and the back. I was going for a high and tight like the haircuts he got when we were first married and he was in the reserves and ROTC.
A smile crept across my face as I cut. I knew that this act of kindness as simple as it was meant so much to my precious husband. After finishing up the back and sides it was time to change guards to do the top. I looked into the case and quickly spotted the guard marked 3 and snapped it onto the clippers. With one smooth stroke I ran the clippers across the top of his head. Something didn't look right. I let out an audible gasp as I quickly jerked the clippers around and saw that the guard I had used did have a 3 on it but was followed by mm. In the center of the guard was the number 1. I had used the next to smallest guard on the top of his head. It was shorter on top than it was on the sides.
My heart sunk! I felt panic and humiliation rushing in on me like a flood. Joey immediately began to comfort me. He said, "You finally cut it the way I like it. It really feels great already. I am happy so don't be upset."
I almost cried but his continual praise and encouragement helped me overcome the tragedy and when I looked into his eyes I could only laugh and apologize. I have learned over the years that mishaps turn out to be the best memories so I am learning to see the humor in things as they happen instead of beating myself up over my mistakes.
I want you to understand that my laughter was not a sign that I didn't care about what I had just done to my sweet husband. I still feel bad about it. I explained to him that I laughed because I could cut one of his ears off accidentally and he would say, "I am so glad you did that. I have always wanted to have only one ear. I really think it looks good, don't you?"
He really would, he's just that sweet. I know, it's sickening how he always tries to protect me but I truly am thankful. I love that man more every second that I live.
I thought it was strange that our oldest son didn't acknowledge his dad's extreme haircut when he came home. I figured that he had and that Joey was just telling me he didn't to save my feelings. This afternoon I asked T if he noticed his dad's hair and he smiled a sweet smile and said, "I was told not to say anything, he sent me a text last night while I was at work telling me what happened and warning me to keep silent."
I really did marry prince charming. He is my best friend, my biggest fan, and my most devoted defender. He did manage to curb any remarks from Trey but even he can't silence Sweet G. I kept hearing this little voice ringing through the house, "Daddy, you're bald. You've got a bald head." It was always followed by whispers and sushes. Well, it may be short but at least it will grow back. I sure am sorry honey.
Saturday, April 2, 2011
Karaoke King
One thing I love about my Sweet G is his gregarious personality. He is not the least bit shy in front of a crowd, in fact that is usually when he is his boldest which scares me to death. I just never know what is going to come out of that cute little boy because most eight year olds haven't mastered the social skills expected when speaking in front of a group and Sweet G is at the top of his game when he has a captive audience. In fact, he has been performing for his therapists, his fellow patients, and their parents for years now. He loves to be cheered and is not shy about telling you he expects it.
Tonight we made plans to meet some great friends at a local Mexican restaurant that has Karaoke on Saturday nights. The evening started out pretty much like many other times we have taken G there but everything changed the minute our friend D sang his first song. Sweet G went wild! He started requesting songs for D to sing for him. G eventually asked D's daughter E to sing "Look It Up" with him. This is when the panic started rising in me. They took the stage and someone handed G a microphone. My heart was pounding because we all know that one of two things happens when you give a kid a microphone; they either freeze up and won't make a sound or they cut loose and totally embarrass their parents. The song started and all I heard was E as she sang the first few bars of the song. Then slowly G began to sing some of the words. His eyes met mine as he sang his favorite line in the song, "The word is easy, look it up, And you'll see a picture of that piece of trash Ridin' 'round in your pickup truck". A huge grin covered his face and I knew he was hooked and that I was headed for some good stories and some wonderful memories.
A little later in the night D and his daughter E went up to sing a duet. Before we knew what was happening G unlocked the brakes on his chair and headed for the stage as fast as he could roll. He stopped, looked back and said, "Daddy, help me get up there cause I'm gonna sing with D." G didn't ask if he could join the group. He just rolled himself right up beside them and the man running the Karaoke handed G a microphone. They were singing "Back to December" by Taylor Swift. It was amazing. Sweet G sang almost every word. He sang on key and even put in the oooo's that D and E left out. I was so proud of my little boy. He sang all those words from memory.
We have been told in the past by some experts that G has an IQ score that is well below what we know is possible. Anyone would know that the score he was given is absurd if they had a single conversation with him, but we are just irrational parents that can't see their child's limitations. He is a very intelligent and talented little boy. The problem that the psychologists have is that they can't understand what doesn't fit into the little box of what they think is normal.
Sweet G is not normal. He is not ordinary. When God created G he took something ordinary and gave it a little extra. G is extraordinary, out of the box, bigger than life, moonbeams and sunshine, with a lot of glitter on top. Oh, how I love that boy! My shining star came wheeling back to our table glowing with pride as everyone in the room cheered for him. If you ever need something to smile about just come see G sing Karaoke. I think he plans on making regular appearances from now on because I overheard him telling the man who owns the Karaoke equipment to get the song "Raymond" so he can sing it the next time he comes. ;0)
Tonight we made plans to meet some great friends at a local Mexican restaurant that has Karaoke on Saturday nights. The evening started out pretty much like many other times we have taken G there but everything changed the minute our friend D sang his first song. Sweet G went wild! He started requesting songs for D to sing for him. G eventually asked D's daughter E to sing "Look It Up" with him. This is when the panic started rising in me. They took the stage and someone handed G a microphone. My heart was pounding because we all know that one of two things happens when you give a kid a microphone; they either freeze up and won't make a sound or they cut loose and totally embarrass their parents. The song started and all I heard was E as she sang the first few bars of the song. Then slowly G began to sing some of the words. His eyes met mine as he sang his favorite line in the song, "The word is easy, look it up, And you'll see a picture of that piece of trash Ridin' 'round in your pickup truck". A huge grin covered his face and I knew he was hooked and that I was headed for some good stories and some wonderful memories.
A little later in the night D and his daughter E went up to sing a duet. Before we knew what was happening G unlocked the brakes on his chair and headed for the stage as fast as he could roll. He stopped, looked back and said, "Daddy, help me get up there cause I'm gonna sing with D." G didn't ask if he could join the group. He just rolled himself right up beside them and the man running the Karaoke handed G a microphone. They were singing "Back to December" by Taylor Swift. It was amazing. Sweet G sang almost every word. He sang on key and even put in the oooo's that D and E left out. I was so proud of my little boy. He sang all those words from memory.
We have been told in the past by some experts that G has an IQ score that is well below what we know is possible. Anyone would know that the score he was given is absurd if they had a single conversation with him, but we are just irrational parents that can't see their child's limitations. He is a very intelligent and talented little boy. The problem that the psychologists have is that they can't understand what doesn't fit into the little box of what they think is normal.
Sweet G is not normal. He is not ordinary. When God created G he took something ordinary and gave it a little extra. G is extraordinary, out of the box, bigger than life, moonbeams and sunshine, with a lot of glitter on top. Oh, how I love that boy! My shining star came wheeling back to our table glowing with pride as everyone in the room cheered for him. If you ever need something to smile about just come see G sing Karaoke. I think he plans on making regular appearances from now on because I overheard him telling the man who owns the Karaoke equipment to get the song "Raymond" so he can sing it the next time he comes. ;0)
Karaoke King
One thing I love about my Sweet G is his gregarious personality. He is not the least bit shy in front of a crowd, in fact that is usually when he is his boldest which scares me to death. I just never know what is going to come out of that cute little boy because most eight year olds haven't mastered the social skills expected when speaking in front of a group and Sweet G is at the top of his game when he has a captive audience. In fact, he has been performing for his therapists, his fellow patients, and their parents for years now. He loves to be cheered and is not shy about telling you he expects it.
Tonight we made plans to meet some great friends at a local Mexican restaurant that has Karaoke on Saturday nights. The evening started out pretty much like many other times we have taken G there but everything changed the minute our friend D sang his first song. Sweet G went wild! He started requesting songs for D to sing for him. G eventually asked D's daughter E to sing "Look It Up" with him. This is when the panic started rising in me. They took the stage and someone handed G a microphone. My heart was pounding because we all know that one of two things happens when you give a kid a microphone; they either freeze up and won't make a sound or they cut loose and totally embarrass their parents. The song started and all I heard was E as she sang the first few bars of the song. Then slowly G began to sing some of the words. His eyes met mine as he sang his favorite line in the song, "The word is easy, look it up, And you'll see a picture of that piece of trash Ridin' 'round in your pickup truck". A huge grin covered his face and I knew he was hooked and that I was headed for some good stories and some wonderful memories.
A little later in the night D and his daughter E went up to sing a duet. Before we knew what was happening G unlocked the brakes on his chair and headed for the stage as fast as he could roll. He stopped, looked back and said, "Daddy, help me get up there cause I'm gonna sing with D." G didn't ask if he could join the group. He just rolled himself right up beside them and the man running the Karaoke handed G a microphone. They were singing "Back to December" by Taylor Swift. It was amazing. Sweet G sang almost every word. He sang on key and even put in the oooo's that D and E left out. I was so proud of my little boy. He sang all those words from memory.
We have been told in the past by some experts that G has an IQ score that is well below what we know is possible. Anyone would know that the score he was given is absurd if they had a single conversation with him, but we are just irrational parents that can't see their child's limitations. He is a very intelligent and talented little boy. The problem that the psychologists have is that they can't understand what doesn't fit into the little box of what they think is normal.
Sweet G is not normal. He is not ordinary. When God created G he took something ordinary and gave it a little extra. G is extraordinary, out of the box, bigger than life, moonbeams and sunshine, with a lot of glitter on top. Oh, how I love that boy! My shining star came wheeling back to our table glowing with pride as everyone in the room cheered for him. If you ever need something to smile about just come see G sing Karaoke. I think he plans on making regular appearances from now on because I overheard him telling the man who owns the Karaoke equipment to get the song "Raymond" so he can sing it the next time he comes. ;0)
Tonight we made plans to meet some great friends at a local Mexican restaurant that has Karaoke on Saturday nights. The evening started out pretty much like many other times we have taken G there but everything changed the minute our friend D sang his first song. Sweet G went wild! He started requesting songs for D to sing for him. G eventually asked D's daughter E to sing "Look It Up" with him. This is when the panic started rising in me. They took the stage and someone handed G a microphone. My heart was pounding because we all know that one of two things happens when you give a kid a microphone; they either freeze up and won't make a sound or they cut loose and totally embarrass their parents. The song started and all I heard was E as she sang the first few bars of the song. Then slowly G began to sing some of the words. His eyes met mine as he sang his favorite line in the song, "The word is easy, look it up, And you'll see a picture of that piece of trash Ridin' 'round in your pickup truck". A huge grin covered his face and I knew he was hooked and that I was headed for some good stories and some wonderful memories.
A little later in the night D and his daughter E went up to sing a duet. Before we knew what was happening G unlocked the brakes on his chair and headed for the stage as fast as he could roll. He stopped, looked back and said, "Daddy, help me get up there cause I'm gonna sing with D." G didn't ask if he could join the group. He just rolled himself right up beside them and the man running the Karaoke handed G a microphone. They were singing "Back to December" by Taylor Swift. It was amazing. Sweet G sang almost every word. He sang on key and even put in the oooo's that D and E left out. I was so proud of my little boy. He sang all those words from memory.
We have been told in the past by some experts that G has an IQ score that is well below what we know is possible. Anyone would know that the score he was given is absurd if they had a single conversation with him, but we are just irrational parents that can't see their child's limitations. He is a very intelligent and talented little boy. The problem that the psychologists have is that they can't understand what doesn't fit into the little box of what they think is normal.
Sweet G is not normal. He is not ordinary. When God created G he took something ordinary and gave it a little extra. G is extraordinary, out of the box, bigger than life, moonbeams and sunshine, with a lot of glitter on top. Oh, how I love that boy! My shining star came wheeling back to our table glowing with pride as everyone in the room cheered for him. If you ever need something to smile about just come see G sing Karaoke. I think he plans on making regular appearances from now on because I overheard him telling the man who owns the Karaoke equipment to get the song "Raymond" so he can sing it the next time he comes. ;0)
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
1970 something
Life was simple. My days revolved around paper dolls and Barbies, or an occasional game of Mystery Date with my sisters. The sound of Donny Osmond singing "Puppy Love" was frequently heard coming from my bedroom. A poster of Leif Garrett hung prominently on my wall. Summer days were spent under the pine trees surrounding our North Georgia home. Pine straw houses were the location for many meals consisting of mud pies and mud soup. A stick became a spoon and rocks were decorations for a cake made of mud. If I sit very quietly and concentrate I can still smell the scent of the pines and the smell of the fresh earth on my hands. My bare feet feel the coolness of the dirt floor of my imaginary living room.
My siblings and I could often be found running an obstacle course designed by my brother. Being one of four children required me to play along so that we would have even teams. Oh, how I hated those things!! Chicken fights, playing in the water from the hose pipe when the summer heat became unbearable, and endless rides around the yard in the wheelbarrow were common activities in my southern childhood. A rare trip to the store for my mom became sock war time for us kids. She would barely get out the door before my brother would say, "Go get all your socks! Hurry up! I will set up the forts." Dining room chairs became barricades to hide behind. The battles would last until we heard Mom's car turn into our driveway the sound of which sent us on a mad scramble to set everything back in place before she could make it into the house.
Winter months found us on a blanket being pulled wildly through the house across the hardwood floors. There were the very rare snow filled days when we would scrape enough snow together to make a snowman even if he was only 1 foot tall and covered in pine needles. Of course we were always sporting those fashionable striped tube socks on our hands serving as mittens.
Many afternoons my sister and I would put on one of mom's country music albums and skate through the house in our socks. If not skating we would probably be jumping on our parent's bed while wearing every pair of pantyhose my mom owned on our heads. This instantaneously changed us from blonds to brunettes. I couldn't count the number of times we fought over who had more pairs of pantyhose. I so wish more of those moments had been captured on film but sadly they only exist in our fragile memories.
A birthday party for one of my older siblings with music and dancing comes to mind. Back then nobody was excluded from the party because of age. Things were so innocent and fun. I remember slow dancing with a neighbor who was a family friend to the song "Let Her In" by John Travolta. Grease and Star Wars playing in the local movie theatre created a chance to sit beside a cute boy nervously hoping he liked you as much as you liked him. Sweaty palms, shaky hands. Making sure you positioned your hand so that he could easily take hold of it if he chose. So anxious about sitting with him that the movie passed without you really seeing it. Butterflies filling my stomach until I feared floating out of my seat and my heart pounded so hard I knew he could hear it.
Many times after seeing a movie with friends we would all walk over to the local pizza place. I can still remember the unique smell of a Pizzaville pizza. We would all pool our money and buy a pizza to share while we sat together talking and laughing.
The innocent days of the 70s left as I was transformed into a teen of the 80s. Cindi Lauper told me, "Girls Just Want to Have Fun." Kenny Loggins encouraged me to be "Footloose". Madonna and Prince told me lots of things I shouldn't have heard and Kool and the Gang told me to "Celebrate". I am sure some celebrated a little too much while others were too insecure and afraid of being hurt to let go and be footloose. I do wish that I had made more memories with my friends from high school.
Like the 70s, the 80s passed by as I transformed once again. This time taking me into adulthood. I graduated in 1984 and began life as a wife with responsibilities of a woman. There wasn't internet or cell phones to keep me connected to my friends and I lost touch and didn't see many friends for years. Who would have thought that after 25 years any one of us would still care about the other. After all we have spent many more years apart than together. I suppose that the bonds we shared were stronger than any of us imagined they could be. We are bound to each other by the commonality of our pasts. Old relationships are being renewed and strengthened. New friends have been grafted in through marriages and there are even budding friendships between our children.
Chattooga County, Georgia may not be good for much in most people's eyes but it was in Chattooga's lovely valley with hills on every side that I met the best friends anyone could dream of having. I had a childhood that most would say was ideal. My teen years were filled with more than my share of fun. The 90s found me becoming a mother for the first time and shortly after the new millinium I became a mother once again. Now the first decade of this century is almost finished and I find myself wondering what the next decade will bring. My prayer is that it will bring friendships closer, strengthen my family bonds, and bring overwhelming joy to our lives.
My siblings and I could often be found running an obstacle course designed by my brother. Being one of four children required me to play along so that we would have even teams. Oh, how I hated those things!! Chicken fights, playing in the water from the hose pipe when the summer heat became unbearable, and endless rides around the yard in the wheelbarrow were common activities in my southern childhood. A rare trip to the store for my mom became sock war time for us kids. She would barely get out the door before my brother would say, "Go get all your socks! Hurry up! I will set up the forts." Dining room chairs became barricades to hide behind. The battles would last until we heard Mom's car turn into our driveway the sound of which sent us on a mad scramble to set everything back in place before she could make it into the house.
Winter months found us on a blanket being pulled wildly through the house across the hardwood floors. There were the very rare snow filled days when we would scrape enough snow together to make a snowman even if he was only 1 foot tall and covered in pine needles. Of course we were always sporting those fashionable striped tube socks on our hands serving as mittens.
Many afternoons my sister and I would put on one of mom's country music albums and skate through the house in our socks. If not skating we would probably be jumping on our parent's bed while wearing every pair of pantyhose my mom owned on our heads. This instantaneously changed us from blonds to brunettes. I couldn't count the number of times we fought over who had more pairs of pantyhose. I so wish more of those moments had been captured on film but sadly they only exist in our fragile memories.
A birthday party for one of my older siblings with music and dancing comes to mind. Back then nobody was excluded from the party because of age. Things were so innocent and fun. I remember slow dancing with a neighbor who was a family friend to the song "Let Her In" by John Travolta. Grease and Star Wars playing in the local movie theatre created a chance to sit beside a cute boy nervously hoping he liked you as much as you liked him. Sweaty palms, shaky hands. Making sure you positioned your hand so that he could easily take hold of it if he chose. So anxious about sitting with him that the movie passed without you really seeing it. Butterflies filling my stomach until I feared floating out of my seat and my heart pounded so hard I knew he could hear it.
Many times after seeing a movie with friends we would all walk over to the local pizza place. I can still remember the unique smell of a Pizzaville pizza. We would all pool our money and buy a pizza to share while we sat together talking and laughing.
The innocent days of the 70s left as I was transformed into a teen of the 80s. Cindi Lauper told me, "Girls Just Want to Have Fun." Kenny Loggins encouraged me to be "Footloose". Madonna and Prince told me lots of things I shouldn't have heard and Kool and the Gang told me to "Celebrate". I am sure some celebrated a little too much while others were too insecure and afraid of being hurt to let go and be footloose. I do wish that I had made more memories with my friends from high school.
Like the 70s, the 80s passed by as I transformed once again. This time taking me into adulthood. I graduated in 1984 and began life as a wife with responsibilities of a woman. There wasn't internet or cell phones to keep me connected to my friends and I lost touch and didn't see many friends for years. Who would have thought that after 25 years any one of us would still care about the other. After all we have spent many more years apart than together. I suppose that the bonds we shared were stronger than any of us imagined they could be. We are bound to each other by the commonality of our pasts. Old relationships are being renewed and strengthened. New friends have been grafted in through marriages and there are even budding friendships between our children.
Chattooga County, Georgia may not be good for much in most people's eyes but it was in Chattooga's lovely valley with hills on every side that I met the best friends anyone could dream of having. I had a childhood that most would say was ideal. My teen years were filled with more than my share of fun. The 90s found me becoming a mother for the first time and shortly after the new millinium I became a mother once again. Now the first decade of this century is almost finished and I find myself wondering what the next decade will bring. My prayer is that it will bring friendships closer, strengthen my family bonds, and bring overwhelming joy to our lives.
1970 something
Life was simple. My days revolved around paper dolls and Barbies, or an occasional game of Mystery Date with my sisters. The sound of Donny Osmond singing "Puppy Love" was frequently heard coming from my bedroom. A poster of Leif Garrett hung prominently on my wall. Summer days were spent under the pine trees surrounding our North Georgia home. Pine straw houses were the location for many meals consisting of mud pies and mud soup. A stick became a spoon and rocks were decorations for a cake made of mud. If I sit very quietly and concentrate I can still smell the scent of the pines and the smell of the fresh earth on my hands. My bare feet feel the coolness of the dirt floor of my imaginary living room.
My siblings and I could often be found running an obstacle course designed by my brother. Being one of four children required me to play along so that we would have even teams. Oh, how I hated those things!! Chicken fights, playing in the water from the hose pipe when the summer heat became unbearable, and endless rides around the yard in the wheelbarrow were common activities in my southern childhood. A rare trip to the store for my mom became sock war time for us kids. She would barely get out the door before my brother would say, "Go get all your socks! Hurry up! I will set up the forts." Dining room chairs became barricades to hide behind. The battles would last until we heard Mom's car turn into our driveway the sound of which sent us on a mad scramble to set everything back in place before she could make it into the house.
Winter months found us on a blanket being pulled wildly through the house across the hardwood floors. There were the very rare snow filled days when we would scrape enough snow together to make a snowman even if he was only 1 foot tall and covered in pine needles. Of course we were always sporting those fashionable striped tube socks on our hands serving as mittens.
Many afternoons my sister and I would put on one of mom's country music albums and skate through the house in our socks. If not skating we would probably be jumping on our parent's bed while wearing every pair of pantyhose my mom owned on our heads. This instantaneously changed us from blonds to brunettes. I couldn't count the number of times we fought over who had more pairs of pantyhose. I so wish more of those moments had been captured on film but sadly they only exist in our fragile memories.
A birthday party for one of my older siblings with music and dancing comes to mind. Back then nobody was excluded from the party because of age. Things were so innocent and fun. I remember slow dancing with a neighbor who was a family friend to the song "Let Her In" by John Travolta. Grease and Star Wars playing in the local movie theatre created a chance to sit beside a cute boy nervously hoping he liked you as much as you liked him. Sweaty palms, shaky hands. Making sure you positioned your hand so that he could easily take hold of it if he chose. So anxious about sitting with him that the movie passed without you really seeing it. Butterflies filling my stomach until I feared floating out of my seat and my heart pounded so hard I knew he could hear it.
Many times after seeing a movie with friends we would all walk over to the local pizza place. I can still remember the unique smell of a Pizzaville pizza. We would all pool our money and buy a pizza to share while we sat together talking and laughing.
The innocent days of the 70s left as I was transformed into a teen of the 80s. Cindi Lauper told me, "Girls Just Want to Have Fun." Kenny Loggins encouraged me to be "Footloose". Madonna and Prince told me lots of things I shouldn't have heard and Kool and the Gang told me to "Celebrate". I am sure some celebrated a little too much while others were too insecure and afraid of being hurt to let go and be footloose. I do wish that I had made more memories with my friends from high school.
Like the 70s, the 80s passed by as I transformed once again. This time taking me into adulthood. I graduated in 1984 and began life as a wife with responsibilities of a woman. There wasn't internet or cell phones to keep me connected to my friends and I lost touch and didn't see many friends for years. Who would have thought that after 25 years any one of us would still care about the other. After all we have spent many more years apart than together. I suppose that the bonds we shared were stronger than any of us imagined they could be. We are bound to each other by the commonality of our pasts. Old relationships are being renewed and strengthened. New friends have been grafted in through marriages and there are even budding friendships between our children.
Chattooga County, Georgia may not be good for much in most people's eyes but it was in Chattooga's lovely valley with hills on every side that I met the best friends anyone could dream of having. I had a childhood that most would say was ideal. My teen years were filled with more than my share of fun. The 90s found me becoming a mother for the first time and shortly after the new millinium I became a mother once again. Now the first decade of this century is almost finished and I find myself wondering what the next decade will bring. My prayer is that it will bring friendships closer, strengthen my family bonds, and bring overwhelming joy to our lives.
My siblings and I could often be found running an obstacle course designed by my brother. Being one of four children required me to play along so that we would have even teams. Oh, how I hated those things!! Chicken fights, playing in the water from the hose pipe when the summer heat became unbearable, and endless rides around the yard in the wheelbarrow were common activities in my southern childhood. A rare trip to the store for my mom became sock war time for us kids. She would barely get out the door before my brother would say, "Go get all your socks! Hurry up! I will set up the forts." Dining room chairs became barricades to hide behind. The battles would last until we heard Mom's car turn into our driveway the sound of which sent us on a mad scramble to set everything back in place before she could make it into the house.
Winter months found us on a blanket being pulled wildly through the house across the hardwood floors. There were the very rare snow filled days when we would scrape enough snow together to make a snowman even if he was only 1 foot tall and covered in pine needles. Of course we were always sporting those fashionable striped tube socks on our hands serving as mittens.
Many afternoons my sister and I would put on one of mom's country music albums and skate through the house in our socks. If not skating we would probably be jumping on our parent's bed while wearing every pair of pantyhose my mom owned on our heads. This instantaneously changed us from blonds to brunettes. I couldn't count the number of times we fought over who had more pairs of pantyhose. I so wish more of those moments had been captured on film but sadly they only exist in our fragile memories.
A birthday party for one of my older siblings with music and dancing comes to mind. Back then nobody was excluded from the party because of age. Things were so innocent and fun. I remember slow dancing with a neighbor who was a family friend to the song "Let Her In" by John Travolta. Grease and Star Wars playing in the local movie theatre created a chance to sit beside a cute boy nervously hoping he liked you as much as you liked him. Sweaty palms, shaky hands. Making sure you positioned your hand so that he could easily take hold of it if he chose. So anxious about sitting with him that the movie passed without you really seeing it. Butterflies filling my stomach until I feared floating out of my seat and my heart pounded so hard I knew he could hear it.
Many times after seeing a movie with friends we would all walk over to the local pizza place. I can still remember the unique smell of a Pizzaville pizza. We would all pool our money and buy a pizza to share while we sat together talking and laughing.
The innocent days of the 70s left as I was transformed into a teen of the 80s. Cindi Lauper told me, "Girls Just Want to Have Fun." Kenny Loggins encouraged me to be "Footloose". Madonna and Prince told me lots of things I shouldn't have heard and Kool and the Gang told me to "Celebrate". I am sure some celebrated a little too much while others were too insecure and afraid of being hurt to let go and be footloose. I do wish that I had made more memories with my friends from high school.
Like the 70s, the 80s passed by as I transformed once again. This time taking me into adulthood. I graduated in 1984 and began life as a wife with responsibilities of a woman. There wasn't internet or cell phones to keep me connected to my friends and I lost touch and didn't see many friends for years. Who would have thought that after 25 years any one of us would still care about the other. After all we have spent many more years apart than together. I suppose that the bonds we shared were stronger than any of us imagined they could be. We are bound to each other by the commonality of our pasts. Old relationships are being renewed and strengthened. New friends have been grafted in through marriages and there are even budding friendships between our children.
Chattooga County, Georgia may not be good for much in most people's eyes but it was in Chattooga's lovely valley with hills on every side that I met the best friends anyone could dream of having. I had a childhood that most would say was ideal. My teen years were filled with more than my share of fun. The 90s found me becoming a mother for the first time and shortly after the new millinium I became a mother once again. Now the first decade of this century is almost finished and I find myself wondering what the next decade will bring. My prayer is that it will bring friendships closer, strengthen my family bonds, and bring overwhelming joy to our lives.
Saturday, October 17, 2009
Red Boots
My dad loved snow more than any person I've ever known. Living in the south, we don't get snow very often and when we do there's not very much of it. Snowflakes bring with them a sense of wonder and magic when they fall in Georgia and when I was growing up every time it snowed my dad would arrive at my front door, beeming from ear to ear, to deliver a brand new pair of shiny red snow boots. I can only imagine the joy it brought my dad to give me those boots. I most likely only wore each pair of those boots one time since snow doesn't last very long in north Georgia. That didn't matter to my dad. He loved snow, he loved me, and those little red boots brought as much happiness to my daddy as they did me.I really didn't think a lot about those boots and the sacrifice my dad made to go out into the snow and purchase them for me until recently. In fact, the loving, unrequested gift of those boots is the perfect picture of the sacrifice my Heavenly Father made for me. Just as the red boots covered my feet and protected them, Christ's blood covers my sin and ensures eternal protection for my soul. The crimson blood of Christ washed me as white as the snow that I played in as a little girl.
It is my prayer that I stay focused on the precious gift of salvation and that every time I see a pair of red boots I am reminded of the sacrifice my Heavenly Father made to purchase eternal life for me.
Red Boots
My dad loved snow more than any person I've ever known. Living in the south, we don't get snow very often and when we do there's not very much of it. Snowflakes bring with them a sense of wonder and magic when they fall in Georgia and when I was growing up every time it snowed my dad would arrive at my front door, beeming from ear to ear, to deliver a brand new pair of shiny red snow boots. I can only imagine the joy it brought my dad to give me those boots. I most likely only wore each pair of those boots one time since snow doesn't last very long in north Georgia. That didn't matter to my dad. He loved snow, he loved me, and those little red boots brought as much happiness to my daddy as they did me.I really didn't think a lot about those boots and the sacrifice my dad made to go out into the snow and purchase them for me until recently. In fact, the loving, unrequested gift of those boots is the perfect picture of the sacrifice my Heavenly Father made for me. Just as the red boots covered my feet and protected them, Christ's blood covers my sin and ensures eternal protection for my soul. The crimson blood of Christ washed me as white as the snow that I played in as a little girl.
It is my prayer that I stay focused on the precious gift of salvation and that every time I see a pair of red boots I am reminded of the sacrifice my Heavenly Father made to purchase eternal life for me.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
I Am a Little Girl Sitting In a Backyard Swing
I am a little girl sitting in a backyard swing
I am sweet tea with a slice of lemon
I hear the distant sound of crickets from my childhood
I smell the coming of rain in the air
I feel the refreshing dew on the grass
I build pine straw houses under the shade of a tall Georgia pine
I stand at the backdoor waiting for freshly mopped floors to dry
I am a little girl sitting in a backyard swing
I am the feel of a cool summer breeze
I am Conway Twitty and George Jones blaring on the breeze of a spring cleaning
I hear little girl voices singing shake, shake my playmate
I feel the hot pavement on my bare feet
I mix delicious mud pies with my little sister
I climb an apple tree for a snack and ride in a wheel barrel around dead man’s curve
I call a friend, just because
I am a little girl sitting in a backyard swing
I am fried green tomatoes, pintos, and cornbread
I am the smell of honeysuckle in the summer air
I hear the faint sound of the snowball truck coming down a country road
I see the bright stars of summer nights as I play hide and seek
I skate in sock-feet to the sound of Charlie Pride coming from an old record player
I ride my bike down long country roads
I glide through the house on a magic blanket
I am a little girl sitting in a backyard swing
I am a plate of gravy and biscuits topped with tomatoes
I am clothes hanging on the line to dry
I hear the sound of an attic fan on a hot Georgia night
I taste warm blackberries picked fresh from the vine
I hear the sweet sound of birds in the morning air
I feel cold water coming from a hose on a hot summer day
I walk down a long country road with a friend
I am a little girl sitting in a backyard swing
I am sweet tea with a slice of lemon
I hear the distant sound of crickets from my childhood
I smell the coming of rain in the air
I feel the refreshing dew on the grass
I build pine straw houses under the shade of a tall Georgia pine
I stand at the backdoor waiting for freshly mopped floors to dry
I am a little girl sitting in a backyard swing
I am the feel of a cool summer breeze
I am Conway Twitty and George Jones blaring on the breeze of a spring cleaning
I hear little girl voices singing shake, shake my playmate
I feel the hot pavement on my bare feet
I mix delicious mud pies with my little sister
I climb an apple tree for a snack and ride in a wheel barrel around dead man’s curve
I call a friend, just because
I am a little girl sitting in a backyard swing
I am fried green tomatoes, pintos, and cornbread
I am the smell of honeysuckle in the summer air
I hear the faint sound of the snowball truck coming down a country road
I see the bright stars of summer nights as I play hide and seek
I skate in sock-feet to the sound of Charlie Pride coming from an old record player
I ride my bike down long country roads
I glide through the house on a magic blanket
I am a little girl sitting in a backyard swing
I am a plate of gravy and biscuits topped with tomatoes
I am clothes hanging on the line to dry
I hear the sound of an attic fan on a hot Georgia night
I taste warm blackberries picked fresh from the vine
I hear the sweet sound of birds in the morning air
I feel cold water coming from a hose on a hot summer day
I walk down a long country road with a friend
I am a little girl sitting in a backyard swing
I Am a Little Girl Sitting In a Backyard Swing
I am a little girl sitting in a backyard swing
I am sweet tea with a slice of lemon
I hear the distant sound of crickets from my childhood
I smell the coming of rain in the air
I feel the refreshing dew on the grass
I build pine straw houses under the shade of a tall Georgia pine
I stand at the backdoor waiting for freshly mopped floors to dry
I am a little girl sitting in a backyard swing
I am the feel of a cool summer breeze
I am Conway Twitty and George Jones blaring on the breeze of a spring cleaning
I hear little girl voices singing shake, shake my playmate
I feel the hot pavement on my bare feet
I mix delicious mud pies with my little sister
I climb an apple tree for a snack and ride in a wheel barrel around dead man’s curve
I call a friend, just because
I am a little girl sitting in a backyard swing
I am fried green tomatoes, pintos, and cornbread
I am the smell of honeysuckle in the summer air
I hear the faint sound of the snowball truck coming down a country road
I see the bright stars of summer nights as I play hide and seek
I skate in sock-feet to the sound of Charlie Pride coming from an old record player
I ride my bike down long country roads
I glide through the house on a magic blanket
I am a little girl sitting in a backyard swing
I am a plate of gravy and biscuits topped with tomatoes
I am clothes hanging on the line to dry
I hear the sound of an attic fan on a hot Georgia night
I taste warm blackberries picked fresh from the vine
I hear the sweet sound of birds in the morning air
I feel cold water coming from a hose on a hot summer day
I walk down a long country road with a friend
I am a little girl sitting in a backyard swing
I am sweet tea with a slice of lemon
I hear the distant sound of crickets from my childhood
I smell the coming of rain in the air
I feel the refreshing dew on the grass
I build pine straw houses under the shade of a tall Georgia pine
I stand at the backdoor waiting for freshly mopped floors to dry
I am a little girl sitting in a backyard swing
I am the feel of a cool summer breeze
I am Conway Twitty and George Jones blaring on the breeze of a spring cleaning
I hear little girl voices singing shake, shake my playmate
I feel the hot pavement on my bare feet
I mix delicious mud pies with my little sister
I climb an apple tree for a snack and ride in a wheel barrel around dead man’s curve
I call a friend, just because
I am a little girl sitting in a backyard swing
I am fried green tomatoes, pintos, and cornbread
I am the smell of honeysuckle in the summer air
I hear the faint sound of the snowball truck coming down a country road
I see the bright stars of summer nights as I play hide and seek
I skate in sock-feet to the sound of Charlie Pride coming from an old record player
I ride my bike down long country roads
I glide through the house on a magic blanket
I am a little girl sitting in a backyard swing
I am a plate of gravy and biscuits topped with tomatoes
I am clothes hanging on the line to dry
I hear the sound of an attic fan on a hot Georgia night
I taste warm blackberries picked fresh from the vine
I hear the sweet sound of birds in the morning air
I feel cold water coming from a hose on a hot summer day
I walk down a long country road with a friend
I am a little girl sitting in a backyard swing
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