Have a dressed up day!

Monday, May 31, 2010

One Thousand Gifts . . .

Gratitude in randomness . . .

double coupons

finding something I didn't know was missing

big silver hoop earrings

someone that shouldn't, remembering my name

summer skirts

dove chocolate

the ice that dribbles out of the icecream maker

bread rising

developing ten year old film

Sunday comics

his hair

eating in the car

a dinner invitation

and these, spin-offs of something larger . . .

milk spilt on the kitchen floor

bug spray removing permanent marker

hair color

My list, # 51-66.

holy experience

Sunday, May 30, 2010

Little Sack of Baby Bones turns Eleven

My baby girl turned eleven last week.  Eleven.  Eleven.  If I roll it around on my tongue will it dissolve like sugar?


She is kind and good, playful and unfocused, a pleaser and animal lover.

Animals.  Animals.  Animals. 

And more animals.

When she was two she had her first birthday party with friends invited. Since then she has spent that day with a special friend. Until this year. This year she had her first full-fledged birthday party - with a limit of four since it was an all nighter.

And they made it - all night - after individual cupcakes to decorate, pizza, cheetos, doritos, lots of candy and soda.

She was the hardest pregnancy and easiest delivery.  Easy ever since.

She's her daddy's ticklebug.  She's Isabela, Izzy-B, Bella, Queen Bella. 

She's my little sack of baby bones.

Sweet dreams,
Sleep tight.
Don't let the bedbugs bite.
Or tickle your toes,
crawl up your nose.
Tickle your toes,
crawl up your nose.
Tickle your toes,
crawl up your nose.
Tickle your toes,
crawl up your nose.


I'm still rolling it around.

Friday, May 28, 2010

I Jus' Die

Conversation with Max.

Eat your lunch, Max.

I can't.  I jus' die.


I jus' die.

You did not just die.  Eat your lunch.

I did jus' die.  Wach - sound effects as he swirls to the ground - see, I jus' die.

Max, eat your lunch.

Lou not see dat, Mommy?  Lou not see I jus' die?

Wach 'gain.  Louder sound effects as he swirls to ground.

Lou see dat, Mommy?

Mommy, lou see dat?

I will die 'gain, wach and see.


And, if anyone out there knows the meaning of dreams please call me.  Why would I, with all that is going on in my mind, dream a dream with these characters?

my husband (that one makes sense)
a younger brother of a friend of Shelby's
an old friend from college I haven't seen in ten years
twins I went to school with
my husband's parents
and finally . .
Oprah Winfrey (whom I dislike pray for)

It took place in a church, country roads, a school (which wasn't a school), and an old house in the woods.

Not a bad dream, semi-good and very interesting.

Tell me a dream?

Thursday, May 27, 2010

Be Extraordinary

Oswald Chambers said:

"God is not concerned about our plans; He does not say - Do you want to go through this bereavement; this upset? He allows these things for His own purpose. The things we are going through are either making us sweeter, better, nobler men and women; or they are making us more captious and fault-finding, more insistent upon our own way. The things that happen either make us fiends, or they make us saints; it depends entirely upon the relationship we are in to God."

I read this earlier today and reread it and reread it.
What is a fiend? 
To be sure I looked it up.  It is what I thought - a devil or demon.
But alongside that was this definition -  A person extremely devoted to a pursuit or study.  A fanatic.
So . . . if what is happening to me is not making me a saint, then it is making me a fiend.  And if I become a fiend due to hardship or unhappiness - or being unsatisfied in the life I have been blessed with - then I will be devoted to this unhappiness.  I will nurture it in my anger and bitterness.  I will pursue it and study it.  I will become a fanatic on unhappiness.
It is not what I wanted, it was not my purpose.  But . . . I did not stop it and now it is mine.
Then I will see no light at the end of the hard road I am on.
I will carry everyone I love down with me.
Isn't that what happens to us?
Can't we wallow in our life's misery until there is no silver lining left to find?

There is a certain circumstance in our life that occurs every couple of years, regular as clockwork.  I don't do very well during this time.  Without a deliverance from above it will be happening very soon.

I'm in preparation mode.  Surely - I tell myself - I've matured and will do better this time.
There are seasons in our life.  We will be sad.  Times will be hard.  Depression will shadow us and can consume us.  If we do not want that to be our legacy we will turn our face to God and seek satisfaction - and happiness will soon follow.
Death, illness, and broken devotion is out of our control. 
Finding peace in it is not. 
These are powerful thoughts, and even though I'm not sure what tomorrow will bring, how I will handle it is what I am working on.  I can pray now for a remembrance of the words of Mr. Chambers - inspired by the word of God.
So . . . to wrap this up on screen and in my heart . . .
for myself and someone I love is this . . .
the more common things, the duty and demands of daily life.  We can allow them to explode into an intimate understanding between us and the Father.
An understanding and acceptance that our destiny may be the ordinary.  There may never be adventure or wealth.
This is the moment that we will either rise or fall, be powerful or weak.  We will walk daily in the unveiled beauty of our life or we will not.
I will be a fiend or I will be a saint.
Oswald Chambers was a Christian minister and teacher who died in 1917 at the age of forty-six.  He wrote the popular devotion book My Utmost for His Highest.  Think on the words in that title.
. . . it depends entirely upon the relationship we are in with God.
We must not let our ability to see God be blinded by life.
Find joy in the ordinary. 
Be extraordinary.

I'll try to meet you there.
 Please check my comment below to clarify what I mean when I speak of depression.

Wednesday, May 26, 2010

Can't Sit Still

This has been viewed by 17,244,481 YouTube viewers.

There's a reason. 

I dare you to sit still.


Tuesday, May 25, 2010

Redesign Your Heart, He said

Sometimes I get a little awaysick for my old career.  It only hits me on occassion, and when it does I allow it to linger for a day or two because if I do I always come out on the other side with a delicious relief that it is in my past and homeschooling my children is my present.

Which is where I really want to be.

When these moments hit me and the obvious fact is that I don't have a client to work with, I begin to dissect my own home.  There is no decorating budget around here and I must admit that is hard on this 'ole designer, so I do a really cheap or free fix-it and move on to a little math or history.

It hit me today.  Along with it was a little voice that has been nagging at me lately about how sloppy my life is.  My life.  My life in Christ.

French author Antoine de Saint-Exupery once wrote, A designer knows he has achieved perfection not when there is nothing left to add but when there is nothing left to take away.

My Creator is my designer.  He has not achieved perfection in me.  I'm aware that He never will, but I'm also painfully aware of how far from it I am.

I tried to fluff a pillow or two, change a frame out, but my God would not let go.  Dissect your heart, He told me.  Parts of it need a redesign.  Not a really cheap or free fix-it, which I'm guilty of so often in my Christian walk, but a brand new beautiful fresh from the Designer original renovation.

Not only is there more to add to this heart of mine, there is so much left to take away. So far from perfection, which is out of my reach, but also miles away from what I am capable of, which is never far from my grasp.

My prayers today have consisted of throwing out the bad and bringing in the beautiful. I'm working on redesigning my heart. There is demoliton and salvage. There are plans and soon to be elevations, perspectives and building codes, sample boards and choices.

Think about it.  Is there just some fluff or a little renovation that needs to be done in your life?  Or is there demolition and fresh starts?

Tell the Designer, He's made a career of it.

Monday, May 24, 2010

One Thousand Gifts . . .

It's not often I ride in the truck.  It's his ride.  Twice a day, almost everyday, it carries him to where he needs to be so we can fill their tummies, light their way, and cover their heads.

We use it this weekend, it's rarity for me a moment to smell the wood that is his labor and touch the seat that holds the receipts and empty bottles and scribblings of his hand.  He's shoving it all over as I climb in.

this work truck

this trip for two

the pile of change when pockets are empty

his Bible with curled edges from car sun

the note he still has, faded and yellowed and worn

the tape measure that made the little tear

knowing where they all are

music of God's love filling the cab

wood dust to finger a heart in


the brush of his thumb on my neck

the trucks that pass that I am not in, because I am here

One thousand gifts, #50-61.

holy experience

Saturday, May 22, 2010

Something's coming.  Coming soon.  I don't know what it will be, but I do know it will be bad.

Eight days now I have felt it.  Like a weight, heavy bags of sand on my chest.  This heaviness has found a home along my arms. 

It is dread.  It's been here before.  It precedes pain and despair and fear and disappointment.  I have never been wrong with this feeling.

Something's churning in the water and moving along the side roads to attack my life.

Remove it, Father.  Intercept it and change it.

Or . . .

brace my legs, strengthen my soul, soften my tongue.

Help me handle it with the beauty of You - not the ugliness of me.

Thursday, May 20, 2010

I Rest and Remember

This rocker is old.  It onced rocked my babies in that steepled haven I hold dear to my heart.  Years ago I rescued this rocker from the sureness of updating - when the old makes way for the new and only imagined better.

It has found a home on my porch and I sit and rock as the storm brewing brings with it a wind that whips the brown fabric of my skirt around me.

I hear my Pa - It's a clabbering up to rain.

I hear my Ma, arguing about some way the cow's tail is pointed.  No rain, she'd say.

I watch.  It's a precious moment of peace I have learned to take advantage of.  I am alone.  A moment to rest and remember.

What else would they say?

It'll pass over.

Better bring the wash in.

Tell the youngins' to come inside.

It'll pass.

To my left it is dark.  The sky threatens to tear open and wash away all that is old and leave only the fresh scent of clean earth behind.

Straight ahead the blue is a clear as Ma's eyes the last time I said goodbye.  Crystal clearness on a face lined with time and fringed with softness the color of cotton.  She'd seen Jesus the night before, we knew this time would not pass over.

I wonder now - how did I say goodbye?

I rock and watch and close my eyes and try but my childhood escapes my mind as quickly as the clouds dance by and the wind finds another place to gentle. 

It passes over.  The rain.  And with it the lonely aches missed and the sweet memories of another life I lived.  A place I can return to in my mind in moments like this when the wind catches my skirt and brings with it a different space and time.

And in the quiet my God reminds me, You shall see them again.

I rise and give the rocker a little push.  It's a good one. 

It's a dandy, they'd say.

holy experience

Wednesday, May 19, 2010

What the Word? Wednesday

It's What the Word? Wednesday time again.

Since singing is Maxster's favorite past time lately, you get to enjoy another song this week.

Please don't ask me how I understand his language without the help of a tune.  I just can't answer that without the simple answer of it's a Mama thing.

Just like it was a Mama thing for most of you.

Post all guesses and check back right here tomorrow for the answer.

Wonder who can guess ALL words correctly?

So sorry I'm late on the winner - I forgot.

Katie over at An Every Day Adventure got it right.  All the words were perfect.  Bet she had a little help from those darlins' of hers. 

Janice - so close, but no cigar.

Thanks everyone for playing.  Be sure to come back next week, Max has the perfect word to stump you all.

Tuesday, May 18, 2010

Wha'cha Think?

Years - and years - ago my sister told me to check out the FlyLady.

My sister had started wearing lace up shoes everyday at the recommendation of the FlyLady. 

FlyLady says, When I put on my lace up shoes I feel like I am ready to face the world.

I tried it, didn't work for me. I'm a barefoot or flip-flop kind of gal.

It works for my sister.  She says if she needs to take the garbage out she can, not a problem.  She doesn't have to stop and search for shoes and then get sidetracked while the garbage ferments in the middle of the kitchen floor.

Guilty - but not enough so to put on lace ups.

Now, years later, FlyLady is suddenly back in my space.

She now has sidekicks.  Joining her on this road to making me miserable a better person is Dinner Diva, MissusSmartyPants, and the House Fairy.

Together they promise to help me cook, help me dress, and help me clean my house.

This is all done in FlyBaby steps.

The first day I have to shine my sink. 

The second day all I have to do is lace up my shoes and shine my sink sometime before bed . . .

The third day I keep shining my sink, lacing my shoes, and read a little motivation . . . 

The fourth day I write little sticky notes to motivate myself, shine my sink, and lace up my shoes . . .

So far this housework stuff is a breeze.

The fifth day it gets tricky - I have to lace up my shoes, shine my sink, and look at my posties.  I don't even have to do them - I just have to look at them.

The sixth day is my first actual job - but I only have to do it for two minutes.  Set a timer - two minutes.

Maybe I missed out on something all those years ago with FlyLady.  I dismissed her too quickly.  Maybe she's on to something. 

FlyLady wants us to nip stuff in the bud so that CHAOS (Can't Have Anyone Over Syndrome) doesn't overtake us.

I'm not sure what happens to all the stuff that will happen to and in my home during the six days I spend lacing up my shoes and shining my sink, but . . . 

I'm willing to give it a try.

Monday, May 17, 2010

Multitude Monday

The sun rises and sets and our days move on with little news from home. 

Gentle days before the attack of computers and the insistance of cell phones are almost so distant it is purposeful to surrender to them.

It is abrupt and not so kind.

And suddenly it is here.  An interruption into the peace of life that is certain for us all, but easier to bear for yourself than the one you love.

But the list continues, because without the list there is surrender of another kind.

the remembrance that wellness is a gift

there is a greatest Healer

knowledge that besets wisdom that besets kindness

the soft gentle rain that waters the plants placed under the eave

rocking chairs

chicks that find a home in the cup of your hand

apple green plastic tumblers

the crispness of a new Sharpie

baby toes keeping me awake

the understanding of a friend that understands why you are different

the cotton turquoise gift from Mama

the joy the new black dress brought her

she goes, so I don't have to

tears shed for other mamas as they watch them go from here to there

and finally . . .

knowing, even when the unknown is hovering

One thousand gifts, # 34-49.

holy experience

Thursday, May 13, 2010

Mama?? Part 2

It's all in my other half day's work.

Can lou blow them?

Where those chopsticks?

Can I buy my bathing suit today?

Did Daddy give blood last night?

Mama, can lou tell Jessie no no?

I'm stuck, can lou get me out?

Have you already put the load of reds in?

Can I sit on the counter?

Can I get in the shower with lou?

Can I watch something on TV?

The blue tray, Mama?

Why not the yellow tray?

Can I go see the baby chicks?

Why, Mama?

Mama, why?

Why a spoon, Mama?

Can I buy my bathing suit tomorrow?

Why lou sitting, Mama?

Why Daddy have to go to work, Mama?

Ok, Mama?

Can I go see Parker?


Why, Mama?

Mama, why?

Can I have something to eat?

Where is that letter?

Can I throw this away now?

Who drank all the water, Mama?

Why lou getting more water, Mama?

Is it full?

Can I turn it off?

What lou doling, Mama?

Do you remember why we didn't sell this last year?

Where's the MC book?

If I sit on this bathcloth will it make me feel better, Mama?

Mama, where's my softball?

Why lou have that shirt and pants on, Mama?

Mama, can I go with Sisi?

Why Daddy have to work all day?

Can lou get me out of this hole?

Can you help me sneak outside without Max?

Why, Mama, why?

Where's Sisi, Mama?

Can I go too?

What are we having for supper?

It's not whatever you can find again, is it?

Put batteries in this, Mama?

Mama, put batteries in this, please Mama?

Please Mama put batteries in this?

Are lou listening, Mama?

Have you decided what we're having for supper yet?

Can Emily come over and show me her new bathing suit?

What time are we leaving, Mama?

Can I have some money?

Do lou want me to unlock door and let lou in, Mama?

No son, I do not.


It's all in my half day's work.

Mama, are we going anywhere today?

Are y'all doing anything today?

Mama, can I get in?

Mama, can I read?

Is that enough?

Will you leave the oven on?

Will you put my hat on, Mama?

Will you put my gloves on?

You coming, Mama?

We have cinnamon rolls?

Can I read you this?

You hold me, Mama?

Will you blowdry my hair?

We going to church, Mama?

Emme be at church?

Emme play with me?

Emme be at church?

What Sisi say, Mama?

Mama, wouldn't you hate to be in the pool and accidentally swallow a sea squirt and it have babies?

Mama, will you dress me?

Why do I have to stand, Mama?

Mama, why you pull that hair out?

Why you have gray hair?

Mama, what am I going to name my bird when I get it?

Why Daddy at work?

Can I go to piano?

Can Kimberly play?

Where my shoes at?

Have you washed any capris?

Can I ride my four-wheeler?

You change my battery, Mama?

Who let Max in my room?

What time is Izzy's game tonight?

Are you sure?

Will you wash my work shirts today?

Why don't I use this pan instead?

Won't this work, Mama?


Why do I have to go?

There's not a potty in the car?


Don't you need that receipt?

Mama, will you put it on #1?

Can I sing it not Sisi?

Why are we going here?

But why?

Can I get in buggy?

Where are we?

What kind of candy, Mama?

What kind of Hershey bar?

What kind you get Sisi, Mama?

Can I have some popcorn?

What these in popcorn?

Have you seen my black shorts?

Have you seen my black flip-flops?

Can we have spaghetti tonight?

What that in the popcorn again, Mama?


Why I need to poo-poo?

Why I need to tee-tee?

Are we going to do the 100 mile challenge with Ms. Donna?

Can I fold just the towels?

Where you going, Mama?

Away from here.

Monday, May 10, 2010

One Thousand Gifts

My gratitude list sits on the counter, not full enough for the blessings I've had this week.

Time is short as I do the morning's busyness and prepare for the trip with my daddy to his doctor's appointment.  I know there I will count many blessings and gifts as sickness and dying will hang over me like a rain cloud - a thunderstorm brewing for us all.

Just not for my daddy - not now, please.

I will continue the list on the counter as I notice these from the midnight hour through this moment.

There is Daddy

and there is joy in knowing where he is going

The discussions late at night with He's Too Good To Me . . .

The weight of him as he gets into bed . . .

the joy of knowing where he is going and why as he begins each morning

Extra sleep

a fan to cover the early morning chirping

cough medicine

waking in bed to a child plunge and the words, I seep good las night, momy

water bottles

the sweetness of Calliou's goodness in the breakfast background

the dimness of cloud's light as I raise blinds

the promise of sun

the shabbiness of Izzy's too small robe

Puppy crooked in the arm of who he belongs

color and words on cards meant for me

the drawer by my bed to tuck the love

the thought of a friend finally home

My list #15-33

holy experience

Sunday, May 9, 2010

What Name is Today?

Sweetness and love to me, from those I call my favorites on this day marked special by whoever was the moment's great one.

I'll be walking soon, I may disappear.

I'm standing in the metal inverted U, no place to go.  Swirly dresses and man suits all around as little ones stretch gifts up to big ones who look like them.  It is a tight fit as I search for my face and marvel at pride in others.

Don't you want to give your mommy her flower?

A voice I recognize as my little man suit says,

Happy Muter's Day, Mum - no, I aont to give it to my Da-dy.

Arms held high with the help of tippy toes stretch pinkness and beauty up to the man I love.  Laughter abounds as I gaze at him and watch him lift this man suit blessing close.  I soak in the wonder of this man who shares the loving and raising of his household.

Happy Mother's Day, Honey.  Wonder what I will get for Father's Day?

Friday, May 7, 2010

Mama's Day

When I was a little girl we spent every weekend at Ma's and Pa's house.  Mama was the baby of six, and still practically a little girl when she married Daddy.

Ma and Pa lived down a long dirt country road in a little town called Walnut Grove.  There was a ditch and beside it a trailing rose bush; windows would be rolled down and the smell of hundreds of baby roses would tell Mama that she had arrived home.

Year after year my sister and I would stand on an old church floor beside a worn-out pulpit with our Sunday best on and a rose from that same dirt road perfume on our shoulder.  Mother's Day after Mother's Day we quoted

Roses on my shoulder, 
slippers on my feet.
I'm Mama's little baby,
don't you think I'm sweet?

Barely walking through the door of nineteen years, Mama gave birth to her first child.  Fourteen months later a second child - another girl, me.

That was 1964 and 1965.  Janice and me.

1971 comes along and brings with it my little sister, Penny - another girl.  Two beauties.

Then comes May of 1982 and Mama becomes a mama again.  This time to my baby sister, Wendy.  This child would become her comfort and best friend.

Mama loved us and worried for us and prayed for us.  Still does, all of those, mixed up with letting us go again and again, day after day.

This week I looked through her old cards with her.

Those are the hands that held me, spanked me, and wiped away my tears.

I found this card, dated 2006.

We almost lost her in 2005.  The day my family was gathered in to say goodbye was the hardest day of my life.  Tears flowing from my daddy's eyes.  The eyes that had loved her for 42 years.  It was a Friday afternoon and on the following Monday prayers were answered and a miracle was granted.

Thank you, Father, for leaving her here a little longer.  I promise to take better care of her than I did before.

Below are tributes to Mama, or Tot, or Tee, or Tee Texas Tot, from my three sisters.

My mother lives with me. Others may think that she resides in MS, but she actually lives in my house in North Carolina. Oh, you may not be able to see her visibly, but I know that she is here, because I hear her voice every day. Sometimes, I can hear it out loud. It seems to be coming from my throat, but I know that that cannot be because I promised myself when I was young and knew everything that I would not be like my mother when I grew up and had children. No, she must be hiding in the house somewhere. I would never say such things as, "When you grow up, you will understand" or "Because I have lived longer than you, and I just know" or "We do not put folded clothes into the laundry basket just because we do not want to take the time to put them into the drawer; I do not wash clean clothes!"

Sometimes I can hear her in my head. She is admonishing me to be careful when I am out after dark by myself. She is encouraging me by saying that I can do whatever I put my mind to. She is reminding me to carry a quarter with me so I can always make a phone call to her if I get into trouble. Because it does not matter how old I get, I can always go to her when I am in trouble.

I see her sometimes, too. She is standing next to me as I cook supper each night, as I wash and fold laundry, as I kiss each of my sleeping children good night. She is laughing when I want to pull out my hair over preteen hormones, crying when I think of how my two oldest will go off to college in a year, and frowning when I lose my temper or ignore her grandchildren. She looks at me from the other side of the mirror each morning and night.

Yes, my mother lives with me. She is a part of me, a part of me that I cherish. She taught me to love God, my husband, and my children. It was Mama--with her strengths and her weaknesses--that had the primary influence on the first half of my life. I thank God that He chose to place me within her circle of influence. Mama, I am rising up and calling you "blessed." I love you.


Today is Thursday. I have spent the better part of the afternoon at my kitchen table with your granddaughter, Susan. She had been anxiously awaiting her new swimsuit pattern to come in the mail and today was the day. After she danced around for a few moments with the package in her hand, she proceeded to try to talk me into sewing with her for the afternoon, instead of doing laundry like I had planned.

While we were bent over the table trying our best to make 1 1/2 yards of swimwear fabric do the job of 2 1/2 yards (we weren’t successful), I couldn’t help but remember all the times I saw you sewing when I was growing up. By the time I came along, you were mostly just sewing dresses for Ma. You really didn’t spend too much time sewing for me like you had on Janice and Marie. I guess it wasn’t as much of a necessity by then. Anyway, as I was cutting the swimsuit out with Susan today I thought about my favorite sewing memory. Do you remember Mandy? Of course you do. What mother wouldn’t remember their daughter’s favorite doll. Susan’s was Baby Jesus, remember that? I’ll never forget how she carried that baby doll everywhere with her, calling it Baby Jesus, and dressing it in pink dresses when it wasn’t in it’s “swaddling clothes”.

Oh well, I am getting off the subject—back to Mandy. I don’t think I will ever forget coming home from school in either 1st or 2nd grade and finding you at the sewing machine. You had spent all day making me clothes for Mandy. Do you remember? The patterns had come in the packages with the clothes you and Daddy had gotten Mandy for Christmas that year. Looking back on it now, I bet you would have opened the packages and removed those patterns had you known they were in there! I don’t remember this part, but I am pretty sure that I begged you REPEATEDLY to make those clothes. The one dress that I remember the most was the little purple and blue flower print. You put lilac lace trim on the sleeves and collar. It was my favorite. I also remember one time when Susan was only about two that I decided to make her doll a nightgown. (This was not Baby Jesus by the way. It was my favorite doll of hers that I was sewing for in an attempt to get her to like it better than Baby Jesus because I hadn’t been the one to buy her Baby Jesus. Ugh...what stupid things we do as first time mothers...oh well) Anyway, I wanted to put lace on it like you had, but after messing with those tiny sleeves for quite some time, I decided that it wasn’t worth it! I’ll never forget struggling with those little sleeves and remembering all those clothes you had made for Mandy that day.

I’ve never made doll clothes for Susan (or anybody else) since then. A few years ago I did get brave and made a rag doll for her. Afterwards she wanted to make it a dress. I cringed. But, you know what? I sat down and together, Susan and I, made a doll dress for her new doll, Hannah-Diana. Her little fingers did all the little arm seams. That dress was beautiful and special in it’s own right, but in my eyes, it will never compare to that purple flower one you made for Mandy. Of course, if I were to ask Susan, I bet she would think differently.

Mamas and Daughters.

What a beautiful thing.

So, just in case I’ve never told you, thank you. Thank you for sewing. Because you did, I watched and learned. And I desired to do the same thing once I became a mother. That simple skill that you passed along to me has created some wonderful memories for Susan and I. Today was one of them. I got to spend the afternoon with my 15 year old daughter. Not because she had nothing better to do, but because she WANTED to sew with me. Your gift was so much more than just a doll dress. It was a lifetime of memories for me with my daughter. Memories that I would not take anything for. Anything, except maybe one more look at that little purple flower dress with the lilac lace trim. :)


I found this poem and I thought it said everything perfectly! I thank God each and every night that he blessed me to have you as my mother. You’ve always been my closest friend and for that I am thankful. I love you!

Your daughter,

I Said A Mother's Prayer For You

I said a Mother's Day prayer for you
to thank the Lord above
for blessing me with a lifetime
of your tenderhearted love.
I thanked God for the caring
you've shown me through the years,
for the closeness we've enjoyed
in time of laughter and of tears.
And so, I thank you from the heart
for all you've done for me
and I bless the Lord for giving me
the best mother there could be!
- Author Unknown

Thursday, May 6, 2010

Some are old, at least seventeen or eighteen years.

Some are new - more are in between.

Markings and handwritings change - the soft curve strokes as confidence builds year after year.  Teddy bears and cartoons morph as once toddler and child eyes mature and glimpse adulthood.

The hearts remain.  Chubby fingers grow lean graceful hands and still form the heart that beats from inside to paper.

No shugar', you babies are the special ones. 

 Just ask my heart.

Wednesday, May 5, 2010

What the Word? Wednesday

Welcome back to What the Word? Wednesday.

A little hint - it is another of Maxster's favorite TV shows.

Remember, comment all guesses here.  I will hold all comments till the end of the day - just to be fair.

Here goes. (It became a movie).

An absolute must read today.  Wounded Spirits: How to Stop the Bullying

Maxster says, Curious George, Curious George, Curious George.

Thanks for playing.

Tuesday, May 4, 2010

Last Chance

This is the final warning to my children that have the capacity to read.

At exactly 5:33 pm on Tuesday, May 11, photos of your bedrooms will be on the worldwide web.

Which means you have exactly 7 days, which is 168 hours, to make your rooms presentable.

It is up to you what mankind will see.  The beautiful rooms they are - which your daddy worked long, hot, tiring hours to give you - or the way they look now.

Chances are up, my darlins'.

You can thank me later.

This message will not self-destruct and it is not a hoax.

Be afraid, my chicks, be very afraid.

Your Doting But Fed-Up Mama

Monday, May 3, 2010

The Beginning of My List . . . just the beginning

Pressing the play button I place my palms over my eyes.  Shut out the light, please.  Total darkness . . .

My head hurts.  I should do this . . .

I was that woman, but now . . .

fresh, living water

thirsting no more.

Total darkness so I can . . .

focusing on His love

and ease . . .

throbbing headaches.

The time is coming and has come that . . .

what I'm called does not matter

and . . .

where I worship does not matter.


For being . . .

that kind of woman

so I can be . . .

that kind of woman no more.

Living bread

and . . .

food to eat.



Knowing me inside and out.

The beginning of my list.  # 1-14.

John 4:1-42

holy experience
Drawing of me losing my cool courtesy of budding artist, Izzy.

Have a dressed up day!

. . . put on a heart of compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience. Colossians 3:12