The Day After

The day after Thanksgiving. This is the scene at Betsy’s.
Still, quiet, and other than an allergic rash from one of her meds, nothing major to report. Walker, the terminally ill Lab, does not seem to be suffering a loss of appetite. I think I noted that today alone, he ate heaping helpings of sweet potatoes, creamed spinach, chicken soup, chicken, dressing, lima beans, and a few handfuls of his own dog food. Every time I plop down in front of the television to munch, I have these two big black bear dogs with huge brown eyes begging me to share. And what do you think? Of course, I share. (Scout is the baby sister in the family – she, too, has a healthy appetite).
Betsy is in recuperating mode. A dose of Benadryl fixed the rash and also rendered her comatose most of the day. We are hoping to journey out tomorrow. She can’t drive because she can’t turn her head, but she can ride….unfortunately her mother’s driving makes her nervous. Who’s to say another little dose of Benadryl is not a great idea?
Back to Jackson on Sunday. Regular life begins again on Monday. I love my girl, and am thankful that after all these years, I still get to be MOM now and then. Life is moving close to the days when our roles reverse and she becomes the mom…I am praying for grace. I am not too excited about relinquishing control and handing over the baton. I understand my mother better all the time.
Anybody know what I mean?

Salvation Army Angel Tree

I was at Northpark Mall on Thursday the 19th of November to watch the Salvation Army kick off their Angel Tree Program. Amazing stuff the Salvation Army does. Christi, Kari, and I adopted an angel. So did my husband Charles.

The recession has left many working moms or dads laid off and unable to provide anything beyond the very basics for their families. And here it is Christmas when little children know only that Santa comes and leaves gifts. Consider adopting your own angel – or check out Charlotte Wingard’s website http://www.thewingardhome.org/ and adopt yourself a “lamb” instead. At any rate, despite your losses, give extravagantly. It’s easier than you think.

Moving Day

We just moved our office. Drama. I am so tired of drama. I am tired of change. I am tired of life-changing surprises. I just want normal and regular…boring looks better all the time. It seems that regular is something I left behind at 405 Heathman Avenue, Indianola. MS almost 40 years ago. I don’t think anything has been regular since then.

However, we love our new space. Wanted to share a little of it with you. If you are traveling down Highway 51 north in Ridgeland , come see us. Thanks to my sweet (and he hates it when I connect his name with “sweet.”) husband we have an office filled with “pretty.” So if you drop in…you will then want to go see him for rugs and stuff...Tinnin Imports.com….they do have the best stuff around.
We set aside this week to move, knowing no matter how great we did our homework, things would not go as planned. If I gave you a list of the corporate entities who completely misplaced our requests or lost us altogether, I would have a field day for all plaintiff attorneys who read us….which is close to ZERO in number.
We simply had more than one opportunity to learn patience. I just keep wondering…how much patience is enough?????

Oh – and I hope you notice the new song. Our friend and food editor Lydia lost her mother recently. This is the song her cousin Cherry sang at her funeral. I have downloaded it to my
i-pod, fallen completely in love with it, and want to hear it every day just to get me over the headlines and the news and help me focus on the things that will be here when nothing else is. In the middle of chaos…or in those peaceful moments when there is no chaos…give me Jesus every time. 24/7…Jesus.

So now we buckle down and think Christmas. Big prayer. May we think Christmas in the true sense of the word.

The Grove

My son Lem is in The Grove today. He has taken his four year old Allie to her first Ole Miss game. I can just imagine how excited she is since he has alternated Amazing Grace with the Ole Miss Fight Song as evening lullabies her entire life. She can raise her arms and cheer “Hotty Toddy,” and she will tell you that her favorite football team is the Ole Miss Rebels, but it has all been as real as Cinderella or Elmo until today. Today it becomes real.

I texted Lem while ago to please be sure to take notes and to just imagine this whole spectacle through her little four-year-old eyes. I am sure even Disney World would not excite her more at the moment. She is finally getting to see the place her dad so loves, meet his college friends, and see something that she has heard stories about her entire life (all four years of it J). She has lived in Washington, D.C. , Denver, Colorado, and racked up more frequent flyer miles than most adults I know, but this is her first trip to Oxford. So far, she shares her dad’s opinion that it is just the best place she has ever been.

There are a lot of times we look forward to something, or imagine something and really want something – and when we get it, it leaves us empty and disappointed. I don’t think Allie is going to be disappointed in anything today. Her father will make sure Oxford and Ole Miss and the Grove are everything he has told her they are. You get the point. We all have a Father like that. Sometimes we forget it.

Facebook

I fought it for as long as I could. I think technology moves way to fast. Just when I think I am “on it” people start something else. I remember the day I learned to e-mail. I had been listening to people talk about it for at least a year and I was too intimidated to even ask what e-mail was. Okay…Now you know. I am old. I was in the first group of Baby Boomers who were fortunate enough to have a television (mostly because my dad sold appliances in the early 1950’s).

I watched Miss Frances’ Ding Dong School and Captain Kangaroo and Mr. Green Jeans. (and green was not about the environment) I guess he could have easily been Mr. Brown Jeans. Green, however, was colorful, and even though we all watched on our black and white TVs with rabbit ears, “green” gave us something to imagine.

But I digress. I am talking about Facebook.

It has opened up a whole new world for this old girl. My high school class recently celebrated their 40^th reunion…which I missed…and I mean I was not only absent but I MISSED and will remember that I MISSED forever. Most of us - 69 in number - went from first grade to twelfth grade together. From learning the ABC’S to Canterbury Tales, we did it together.

And for months we have been e-mailing and reconnecting and laughing over the ravages of time…laughing in a good way. I think we would all like 18 year old bodies with 50+ year old wisdom to go with them. So it is not going to happen. Even so, it is fun…really fun…and life-giving to look back and see the relationships that encompass decades.

We share the same history and the same memories and it is just…beyond words. I understand, from my two hour conversation this morning with my friend Ellen, that the tears were more like sobs in the parting and the togetherness at this season of life had nothing at all to do with anybody trying to impress anybody else. Our class was one, and more than ever, we were FOR eachother. Oh, how I missed it and yet don’t feel like I completely missed it because of Facebook and the pictures and stories we have shared.

I think our class is much like heaven is going to be. Okay…we will probably meet a few surprise residents J, but the joy over being together and knowing we will never ever be separated again…is that a great thought or what?

On the Road Again

Pat Pierce, President of the UMW at Crawford Street, Marilyn, and Phyliis Cowart, Vice President

I had a great time yesterday in Vicksburg speaking to the Crawford Street United Methodist Women at their Fall Membership Luncheon. It was very much a Mississippi gathering – you know when Southern girls get together, we always play, “Who do you know that I know?” Or….as our mothers taught us to always ask, “And who ah yo-wer peopul?” If we talk long enough we can always find a distant cousin somewhere. That’s one of the best things about being Southern.

I used my revised version of my talk on the Five Lessons I Never Meant to Learn. It seems there are always women who can easily identify. I know something about myself, and I am wondering if it is a universal girl thing. I was a very good student in school. I could definitely learn the material and take the test. But don’t ask me anything a week later about the material. Once I got my A, I seemed to completely forget the facts, figures, and anything else pertaining to the test. It was all about the A. So could we say I really learned anything?

Life lessons, however, are a different thing altogether - the ones that knocked me to my knees and left me feeling like there was a gaping hole where once there was a heart…well…I can remember those. I find that I am not strange. Most women feel the same way. I also notice that as nice as it is to be able to call up names and dates from long ago history tests during a game of Trivial Pursuit, the long term effects of a lesson well learned and indelibly written on one’s soul, is even better. Those kinds of lessons help us become a little better than we might have been at People skills and at hearing God’s soft voice in the middle of a very chaotic busy daily routine. I have discovered this fact, too. All women have “stuff-“ heart stuff that hurts.

I realized the other day that the one thing I do like about getting older is that when I sing “Faith of our Fathers,” it is no longer someone else’s faith I sing about. It is mine, too…that thought alone soothes the aging process in ways you can’t appreciate till you get there.

I am gearing up for a trip to Maine next week. Just wait till you see my pictures and hear about my trip. If you are into praying for a prodigal publisher, would you pray that I do not have to spend any nights in the airport and that all my flights depart and arrive on time….That almost sounds like a fairytale like “And they all lived happily ever after” after my last experience. (See Lucy and Ethel Take a Road Trip)

Update on Walker Dog: He got a great report at his last visit to the vet. I think Betsy is into cherishing every second with this sweet furry friend. He even got a pass on chemotherapy last week. We’ll see what this week brings. Will update you. God bless.

Tears, Cheers and HOPE

First of all, an update on my ‘grand-dog’, Walker may have a little “cat” in him – as in nine lives. He had his first chemotherapy last Thursday, tolerated it well, and Betsy is encouraged. The vet says this series of several chemos could mean another year or so of life without pain. If you are not a dog-lover, please stop reading now. You will think we are all nuts at my house.

If you are a dog-lover, read on. You understand.

Have you ever run across the bumper sticker that says, “Oh, Lord, help me be the person my dog thinks I am.” Well, it is not sacrilegious. You have to have been loved by a dog to appreciate the truth in those words.

I, for one, think God can use anything and anyone to teach us lessons that go deep into our souls. When it comes to love in a completely pure way…as one dog-lover to another (since all non-dog-lovers stopped reading at end of sentence #5) does this or does this not make sense? I think most of God’s most profound points He really wants us to grasp during our temporary tenure here on earth involve simple truths – like it feels really good to love and be loved back.

My dog, Daisy, affectionately called the “chemotherapy dog” (the one BETSY found at Corgi Rescue to help me through the chemotherapy I never had) sits beside me when I cry…and I think I mentioned in the magazine recently that I long ago perfected the art of crying. There’s good crying and bad crying. I am a master of both.

You know – sunrises, sunsets…music…good cry. Death, heartbreak…bad cry.

A lot of my crying in this era of life involves being overwhelmed by “the list” of self-imposed “shoulds” and “oughts.” I never seem to complete those guilt inducing categories in any given day, and it is frustrating. I keep getting interrupted by life. Even so, there is some lingering something inside me that bases my worth on how many things I can successfully check off the list of “TO DO TODAY.”

But to come home at night, feeling incredibly inadequate because I failed to get through “the list” and find Daisy waiting at the back door helps me let go of the wounds the day has inflicted!

I read something recently that said when it comes to “balance’ and “time management” Jesus was probably one of the worst ever at planning out the day and having everything fall into place…..”Let’s see from 9 to 10 I will heal the lepers. From 10 – 11 , I will heal the blind…etc. etc. “

He kept getting interrupted by life and crowds and unanticipated “stuff.” I know, I know. If He was God the Son, he knew ahead of time there would be detours, but I think he felt like he had to walk through those doors just to show us how to do it, too – how to let the list go at times and focus on the moment, the needs around us, and just be there.

Life is not a big circle that can be divided into equal parts so that we are balanced people. A big circle divided perfectly would work great if it were not for…real life.

I am thinking I might prefer passion over balance any day…just let me have passion for the things that are God’s passion . Passion seems closer to abundant living than being a bean counter or a list checker…you think?

For the Love of D.O. G.

My cell phone rang late the other night. Nobody calls me on my cell phone late at night or early in the morning except my daughter Betsy…and never when the news is good. In between sobs, she told me that her ten year old Black Lab was having difficulty breathing and a trip to the animal emergency clinic revealed a large tumor around his heart. The cancer was definitely in his lymph nodes as well. He was in pain and the vet’s advice was to put him down.

He spent the night at the hospital and she was to pick him up the next morning to take him to his regular vet to do what she did not think she could bear to do.

You all know Betsy as one of our Single Still Single Again columnists. Her life is rarely dull. Sometimes it seems like her best friends are named Crisis and Drama. In between those two events, however, she can keep a room alive telling her real life stories that keep us all laughing.

But all I could do was cry with her the other night. I searched for the consoling things a mother is supposed to just be wise enough to say, but I could not find any words at all. My heart so hurt for her as the invisible movie screen in my mind played flashback memories of this dog my daughter so loved.

It was in her senior year of undergraduate school at Samford that I entered her apartment and saw a huge wire kennel in the middle of her living room. I sent up an SOS prayer, “Oh, Lord, please let this dog belong to Betsy’s roommate,” but I knew better from the very beginning.

Walker had come from the Birmingham Pound and was almost small enough to sleep in one of Betsy’s shoes…when he wasn’t chewing them up, that is. He grew to be the size of a small black bear and I never understood how petite Betsy managed to “walk” him. My one attempt at walking Walker required an ambulance ride to the hospital, a cat scan, two broken front teeth, and more. It wasn’t that he was bad…he was just enthusiastic about life and completely unaware of his size or strength.

He did not like having to ride in the backseat when I visited. When Betsy was in grad school in Tuscaloosa, the entire staff at the local McDonald’s looked forward to Walker’s weekly drive-thru visit for his Happy Meal.

Betsy and Walker have been inseparable this last decade. Walker has comforted her when there was no human being in sight to comfort her. Through boyfriends, several career changes, numerous interesting roommates, several surgeries, and a close call with the MRSA staph, Walker has been there.

But Betsy has been there for Walker, too. I will never forget the time he was hit by a car and she was on 280 with Walker on the backseat, sobbing into the cell phone to me as I stood in my kitchen 250 miles away that she could not remember where the animal emergency clinic was and could I please call 911 in Birmingham and get the directions for her. It was touch and go that weekend - IV’s and internal bleeding, but I firmly believe Walker’s sheer will to be with Betsy worked in his favor. He was just not ready to think she could handle life without him.

The second vet has given him a special medicine to buy a little time although he tells Betsy it is very little time – maybe days. Walker is eating, showing some responsiveness, and even played with his Lab friends Luke and Maggie yesterday. I am amazed that Betsy can be so brave knowing the inevitable outcome. But she wants that time with her faithful friend, and I so understand.

It’s just one of life’s ironies that something that brings so much joy can bring so much pain as well – I am talking about love. It’s really very dangerous to love – to give your heart away with such abandon – whether to another person or to that pet whose love is about as pure and unconditional as any love God ever allowed us to know. I think the term “broken heart” is just the perfect description because letting someone precious go does indeed leave a heart feeling shattered into pieces.

But you know what? I would rather live dangerously and cherish the good times than to be safe and miss the joy of love given and received.

…But the greatest of these is love…I Corinthians 13:13b

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Ethel and Lucy Take a Road Trip

To all of my fellow “Fly-by-the-seat-of your-pants” buddies out there, I have an epiphany. Here goes: Being organized is way overrated.

Anybody who really knows me is now incredulous. I have written with longing about an organized life for the last seven years. No more. I am done with that dream and I am kissing the guilt good-bye.
It seemed like a great idea last April when contributing writer and close friend, Kristi Brown, suggested we sign up for the “She Speaks” conference in Charlotte, North Carolina. The conference is pricey, but we had lots of frequent flyer miles, so why not cash in and go? This was an opportunity to pitch the books we are writing to publishers, hear from some seasoned speakers and writers on the “how to’s” of our craft, and – hey – I am always up for a good girl trip.

For somebody like me who is “organizing challenged,” even my step-daughter Jill, who is the queen of organization could not have done the prep work any better. My suitcase was packed two nights ahead of time, my book proposal with first three chapters were sorted in appropriate folders, and Charles did all the cooking for at least a week so I could focus on my presentation. I even went to bed early the night before – for my brain function and because I read that wrinkles diminish when one looks rested. Whatever. It seemed to make sense at the time.

Kristi and I, with fresh manicures, pedicures, and the “right” business casual wardrobes, even booked our flights a day before the conference really started just so we could be rested, perky, and alert.
On my way to the airport, Kristi called to let me know Delta had canceled our flight and rebooked us on a flight for the NEXT DAY! We agreed that was not acceptable, so we searched about and discovered we could fly out of Columbus late that afternoon. The object was, of course, to arrive in Charlotte in time for bed.

So we were off…finally…only to land in Atlanta and find that our flight to Charlotte had already taken off, and due to weather, there would be no more flights out of Atlanta until Friday morning. I was astounded at sweet Kristi Brown’s assertiveness. I thought I might have to restrain her at one point as she explained to the ticket agent that this situation was simply unacceptable. The only result of all of our frustration was that he handed us both the “overnight emergency kit” which contained a Delta Airlines T-shirt, a toothbrush and a miniscule packet of toothpaste – and we are talking MIN-I-SCULE.


Trying to pep-talk each other and convince ourselves this was not so terrible, we rushed to the restroom to brush our teeth. There was not enough toothpaste to do more than brush our front teeth, so our other toothies just had to make the best of it.

I am a lipstick and earrings kind of girl. I don’t much like to sleep straight up in an airport vinyl chair in the clothes I have worn for 16 hours, mascara smeared like raccoon eyes, and this sensation that my teeth are covered in something slimy. At 4:30 am, we gave up on sleep, ate greasy food at the only place open at that hour and tried hard not to stare at the strange assortment of fellow stranded passengers. I was just about tired enough to have lost any semblance of good judgment, and I was considering interviewing a few folks about their tattoos and their strange choice of anatomical body piercings. But Kristi convinced me I would regret that choice later. So I did not.

On the way to our long awaited departure to Charlotte, we got a great tour of every terminal in the Atlanta airport since Delta chose to change our departure gate AND terminal about six times between 5 a.m. and 7:20 a.m.

My enormous purse that was also holding my laptop had gained about ten pounds since the day before and my cute shoes that should be against the law to wear anyway were hurting my feet so much that I had developed half-dollar sized blisters on the balls of both my feet. I asked Kristi if she would mind pushing me if I could just locate a wheel chair, but we never did.
I think I am done with travel for a while. Wonder what lesson I was supposed to learn in this adventure besides always take a tube of toothpaste in your purse and avoid the Atlanta airport at all costs.

I know well the scriptures on being thankful in all circumstances. Even though I failed miserably Thursday night, I know one more thing about myself.
I handle the significant crises of life a lot better than the minor inconveniences. I think most of us do.

God is still working on me. Maybe one day, I will get the heart, the brain, and the mouth to work in sync. They just can’t get their act together.

Puts a smile in my day

Charles, granddaughter Katie and me at the store.

My Colorado Grandchildren: Sutton (4 months), Allie (4/12), and Charlotte (17 months)

CONFIDENCE or confidence??????

Charles left for the Atlanta market this morning. He was waffling till the last second – needing to go but wishing he felt more passionate about the whole shopping for inventory experience. Daisy, Thurber, and I did our favorite Saturday morning thing – reading the Wall Street Journal. Well, I confess that, despite their intelligence, they really have not learned to read, but they do love Saturday morning and the slower pace…because it’s the only day of the week I go quite so slow. I love to read Peggy Noonan. She is an incredible writer even though I don’t always like what she has to say. She is not into Sarah Palin from what I read today. Bothered me a little.

Then I swept up the dog hair that seems to accumulate by the second. It is noon and I am in pure ecstasy – sitting with my computer, wearing my pajamas and talking to my dogs. Once upon a time, that was my total ambition. Then I learned that God is great at taking whatever minute morsel of your life you offer Him and working that Ephesians 3:20 formula – “the beyond all you ask , think, imagine or dream” – idea on your pitiful little don’t- expect- anything- special kind of life.

The Mississippi heat is stifling. I sadly confess that I spend at least thirty minutes of every day bemoaning the bad hair day that is a certainty in the Mississippi humidity. I can count on a run of bad hair days from now till mid October. Pitiful, I know. I confess, too that my guilty feelings are bigger than Dolly Parton’s hair – because I did promise God during my Breast Cancer experience that I would never ever complain about a bad hair day again. One more reason for me to recall grace and to remind myself we can’t ever expect to do “good” enough to earn a crumb’s worth of the “wonderful” He is forever doling out to us.

I am going to try ( key word…”try”) to be a really good steward of these two days without Charles. I am working on my book proposal praying someone besides my children and step-children who will receive copies as gifts will buy a copy. I am also hoping to do some real reading and thinking. Life does come at me fast and there are way too many hours of every day I spend in busy work that Uncle Sam requires or the sheer mechanics of business dictate. It is hard to keep up with my Jesus thoughts if my heart and soul are running on “empty.”

I have a constant laugh with several friends about the following. I guess I am pretty Southern tried and true – and tongue in cheek, I joke that I really thought I was meant to be a princess, but nobody but me ever got the memo. Well, what I guess I really mean by all that foolishness, is most of us girls yearn for SOMEBODY to take care of the unpleasant realities like bank accounts, financial statements, profit and loss information, and all those scary components of business. God is forever treating me like a Mama Eagle who nudges her babies out of the nest. He gives me challenges and then promises to supply my strength and my need. Just as he nudges me over the edge, and I close my eyes and panic, He swoops beneath my flailing arms to provide His safety net…just an incredible reminder that He has engraved my name on the palms of His hands and He is in charge…and I am thrilled because I do not want to be in charge of anything harder than putting the bread in the toaster tomorrow morning. I am glad He knows my address, my e-mail, and my cell phone number. Psalm 139 says, “Where can I go from your Spirit? Where shall I flee from your presence?’ Whew…I like that whole idea. So glad He’s an always there God.

Follow Instructions or risk losing an eye!

I have never been good at reading instructions. It’s in my genes. My mother was the same way. It’s not due to our lack of intelligence as much as it is that we have always been afflicted with the “hurry” syndrome. If I had a dime for every disaster I have created by not reading the directions I would be a gazillionaire today. From baking bread to coloring my hair to programming a remote control and beyond….I have made some costly mistakes.

Two weeks ago I bought some new contact lens solutions that came with warnings all over the box. There were big red letters advising that not following directions could result in serious injury. Yea, yea, yea…I got it, or so I thought. I really did read the directions carefully on Monday night. No problem. My contacts were fine on Tuesday morning.
On Tuesday night I was late going to bed and I was really in a hurry and after all, I had followed the directions the first night – I was sure I could wing it. On Wednesday morning I popped in my right contact and burning pain exploded in my eye. It took about ten minutes to remove the offending lens. I tossed the lens and put a fresh one in. I also did not use the solution again, but it didn’t matter. The damage had been done.

On Friday I could not open my right eye. I’d rate the pain as a 10 on a 5 point scale! Abrasions on my cornea, fluid behind it. They tell me it will “probably” heal with time. So far, I am operating like the old Jim Backus cartoon character, Mr. Magoo. I have a different pair of glasses for every activity of the day.

This week it was computers. Two or three times in a row, I turned my computer off without shutting it down properly. It took the computer guru several hours to unravel that disaster.
The thought occurred to me this morning – well, actually that still small voice that speaks to my heart when I slow down and listen - reminded me that although the consequences of ignoring God’s instructions are not always as immediately painful as my latest bloopers, the damage to one’s life can be a whole lot more serious and the effect of our actions on those we love can be like ripples in a still pond moving out in bigger and bigger circles.
Here’s to doing better at reading AND following instructions.

“Listen to my instruction and be wise: Do not ignore it.” Proverbs 8:33

A Pink Inner Tube

One of our four-year-old granddaughters visited us last week. Swimming lessons were part of the agenda – I just have this thing about children learning to swim. I don’t think it should be optional.

Allie and I trudged to the pool every day for a week. Who would even recognize the little girl who was screaming loud enough to be heard in a three county radius on day one? She is jumping to us, going under water, and conquering her fears. She’s not “there” yet, but oh how far we have come and how much she has learned.

It amuses me that in her first efforts, she absolutely would not think about letting go of that pink inner tube. It was large…oh so large. It was deceptively safe to her not-yet-sea-worthy little arms. It was also a reminder to me of me!

We cling to our individual versions of the pink inner tube, seeking some misplaced confidence in things about as unreliable as this $5 device from Target. Oh, Lord, let us let that dumb pink thing go and let us lean on you!

Little Life Lessons

We have been running all over the place for the last two weeks. It is good to sit still today and kind of re-group. The June issue of the magazine will be out next weekend and it is one of my all time favorites. The theme is Father’s Day. I just don’t run short of ideas on that subject. I am still my daddy’s daughter and proud of it.

And in the realm of “males,” in general, we have been overwhelmed with three new grandbaby boys in the last six months. I try hard not to be too obnoxious with grandchildren pictures…but it is hard . Since a lot of our running around has been grandchildren lately, I couldn’t resist putting a few new pics up here for you.

Baby Henry who is the oldest of the new crop was born November 25, 2008 and he was christened just a week ago. He lives in Hernando and when you see pictures of him next to his three year-old big brother, Evan, at the same age, it is hard to tell who’s who. You can already tell by the way his eyes follow his brother that he is taking it all in and planning to challenge his brother in everything from the sandbox to the t-ball field and whatever else the future holds.
The pic of me and Baby Chase, who lives in Memphis, was taken at the Redbirds game that same weekend. It seemed that night, at least, that Chase will share a love for baseball with his grandfather who played baseball at (gasp) University of Alabama – let’s say a few short years ago. He looks like his grand dad – he has the same kind of eyes that smile along with the rest of him when he’s happy. I just love it.
Our youngest grandboy was born May 5 in Denver and I will be traveling to see him in about two weeks. He is Phillip Sutton Smith, son of Lem and Merrill. With two big sisters to boss him around, I have no doubt he will learn about women early on and will carve out his own strong identity in spite of all the mothering and arranging they will just be prone to do.

This note comes with news and no particular spiritual message except some hard earned words of wisdom. The time with our children is much too short even though there are days when we think this season of small children and never ending demands are eternal! There is absolutely nothing on the “to do” list that is more significant now or ever than what our children just picked up by watching us today!

A Thoroughbred Faith

Charles and I spent the weekend in Louisville, Kentucky. Yes, I know the Derby was the week before, but we had business this past week. So, we could not resist touring Churchill Downs. I have become much enamored with horses. Charles has loved horses his entire life, and I now know more than I ever thought I would care to know about thoroughbreds and the whole sport of horse racing.  I can tell you a lot about names like Seattle Slew, Secretariat, Barbaro, and I have seen the grave of Eight Belles. I know who Mine That Bird is, and I am pulling for him in the Preakness, because he seems to have no respect even after winning the Derby.

 

I could try to impress you with more names, but my friends read this blog, and they are already laughing at me. And maybe I should just mention we don’t bet on anything, but we just enjoy everything about the horses.

Seriously, I am amazed at certain things about thoroughbreds. I realize that God chose to compare us to sheep (the dumbest of animals…that’s easy for me to understand) instead of thoroughbreds. But I have to think that there is some encouraging redemptive analogy and even a spiritual lesson in the qualities we observe in both dogs and horses. They both tend to connect in a relational way to people – which I interpret as their understanding – although limited – of some being higher than themselves. They are incredibly loyal, forgiving, and unconditionally loving. 

Thoroughbreds, so I understand, come into the world high-strung, strong-willed, and wanting it their way. It takes a skilled trainer who sees their potential and loves them for what they can become, to patiently rein in their stubbornness, their strong will, and to ultimately win their loyalty and their passion to please. When these magnificent animals take to the track on race day, they are focused – it is no longer about having their way…it is about winning the race….and by this time, they know what the real race is all about. 

Kind of makes me stop and think. 

Susan Boyle

I am not a big American Idol watcher. Oh, I watch it sometimes, but I don’t arrange my evenings around it. I had certainly never heard of the British version until the YouTube videos of Susan Boyle made the rounds this past weekend. I can’t stop thinking about it. If you have somehow missed this new hero on the pop scene, just Google Britain’s Got Talent or Susan Boyle, and take time it all in – from the moment this unlikely hero struts out on stage till the end of a performance that brings tears as well as a standing ovation and thunderous – I’m talking thunderous applause.

There is an initial feeling that everyone in the audience is either snickering under their breath or feeling painfully embarrassed for this plump little middle-ager who wants to be a star. The cynicism melts and the spirit in the room is transformed the minute she launches into “I Dreamed a Dream” with her absolutely magnificent Broadway voice. Even the cocky Simon had the most awestruck and almost tender look on his face. There was something in Susan’s performance that surpassed entertainment.

Her authenticity and an “I’m comfortable with me” message was pure refreshment. She was…well…pure. I think she moved us past the razzle dazzle because somewhere inside each of our souls we all want to be authentic.

She volunteers at her church, takes care of her mother, and thinks she may or may not have a “makeover” simply because “I’m happy the way I am.” Oh, Susan, Never change. The world needs to hear from you!

Family, Food and Skinny Jeans

Charles and I spent Easter in Birmingham with daughters Betsy and Jill. They are part of our personal “flock” of shared children. In my this-is-not-the-life-I-signed-up-for life, the shared children and grandchildren have been a very wonderful gift.

I drove over to Birmingham on Thursday for my oncology appointment on Friday morning. I got a good report and do not have to go back for six months! I had a whole day with Betsy before Jill and Charles came on Saturday. My doctor’s appointment was three hours long and I text messaged her to apologize. We had lots planned for the day.

Betsy’s reply was, “That’s okay. The grocery store stays open till midnight.” I did find myself in Wal-mart way past my bedtime. Strange, but somehow I rose to my daughter’s expectation. She tends to think of me in decades ago context. She did, however, look down at my legs on Sunday morning and let me know that panty hose dated me. I told her, “No. Varicose veins date me.”
Enjoy these photos. Betsy and Jill are both great cooks. Even though I am not, I have my certain recipes that make me look like I can cook, too. I did my famous squash casserole and this potato casserole that I had almost forgotten I had till Betsy asked for it. Betsy grilled the pork tenderloin from Helen Defrance’s At Home Cafe cookbook and Jill baked the rolls from scratch and a to-die-for chocolate cake. We ate well.

As I did my part on Saturday morning and mixed, stirred, chopped, etc. I had to open the refrigerator a thousand times, and I became very aware of Betsy’s refrigerator magnets. I decided you can tell a lot about a person from their refrigerator magnets. She had quite a few and they all make me smile. This is my favorite:

Miracles Happen. Keep the Skinny Jeans.

Lilies of the Field

It is a rainy day – I used to call these pajama days. When I first started a magazine, one of my goals was to find a job that allowed me to stay home, wear my pajamas, play the piano, write, and…talk to my dog. And I did for the first five years till things spilled over to the kitchen table, the dining room table, the guest room and the garage. I finally had to rent office space. I still grieve for my pajama days.

My adult life has been, for the most part, filled with unexpected detours. I tell audiences when I speak that “This is not the life I signed up for.” (forgive the dangling preposition). Very few things in life have happened according to my plans, but the constant has been God’s faithfulness in spite of all my fears.

The present state of the world and its effect on business, money, and all the ways our daily lives are used to functioning has had me in a new battle with fear and faith.
In my quiet time this morning I read the Sermon on the Mount. Nothing I had not read a million times before, but how is it that we can read a passage over and over, say we believe and trust our heavenly Father to supply all of our needs…and then panic because we just cannot stand to not have control or at least not have a typed out action plan personally delivered via the Holy Spirit.

It seems our journeys are filled with seasons of starting over and learning and relearning the same lessons. I am grateful today for God’s great patience with me.
I was on my way out of the house this morning when I ran into this scene – Daisy and Thurber. They do not look stressed or worried over the state of the world. There is no doubt in their minds that Charles and I will take care of them tomorrow as certainly as we have taken care of them today.

I want to inscribe these words from Matthew 6 on my brain and plant them deeply in my heart:

“Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they toil not, neither do they spin: And yet I say unto you, That even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. 30Wherefore, if God so clothe the grass of the field, which to day is, and to morrow is cast into the oven, shall he not much more clothe you, O ye of little faith? 31Therefore take no thought, saying, What shall we eat? or, What shall we drink? or, Wherewithal shall we be clothed? 32(For after all these things do the Gentiles seek:) for your heavenly Father knoweth that ye have need of all these things. 33But seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you. 34Take therefore no thought for the morrow: for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself."

Over-Came

Alexander has always been a child after my own heart. You remember him. I am talking about Alexander, the five or six-year-old protagonist of Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day.

There are still a lot of days when I feel as though I, too, woke up with chewing gum in my hair, and chewing gum in the hair was the best part. The day went downhill rapidly from that point on. This past month was filled with Alexander kind of days. If anybody believes in spiritual warfare, I do.

We had unscheduled surgical procedures for family members, computer viruses, computer crashes, Blackberry crashes, and a shipper who was four days late delivering our March magazine. He put a whole new spin on the concept of “customer service” when he arrived at the storage unit, called me before 8 am and told me I needed to get over there to “help” him unload the magazines. Excuse me. We pay his employer well for “shipping.”
Anyhow, Kari and I managed to move 22,000 magazines from the driveway to the storage unit in about an hour and a half. Kari’s only comment amid my grumbling was, “Well. At least it is not raining.” You have to love her attitude. She is forever the sweet one with the “Winnie the Pooh” outlook balancing my Eeyore kind of outlook on life.

over∙whelm – to overpower - I am frequently overhwhelmed by the glitches and the things I can’t control.

Over∙come – to prevail (I think prevailing is very Biblical)

I finally remembered after a nervous breakdown or two exactly who is in charge of the magazine and that He has overcome the world. I decided to let Him have it. Things got a lot better after that.
I thought I would show you my most recent pics of my Denver grandchildren. I am headed to see them next weekend. Even though every muscle and joint in my body will ache by the time I head home, it is so worth it to spend a few days in their world.

Allie is almost four and Charlotte is almost one. They are awaiting a new baby brother who is scheduled to arrive in May. Allie is a typical first child. She worries about everything. Charlotte is the typical second child. She doesn’t worry about anything since Allie will worry for her.
I just love being a grandmother. Baby Boy Smith will increase my tribe to eight.

Love and Laughter

A friend is someone who understands your past, believes in your future, and accepts you just the way you are.

I just had lunch with my childhood friend, Ellen. We have been through baby dolls, Barbie dolls, boyfriends, marriage, babies, children, teenagers, and now grandchildren together. I think we have been able to read each other’s minds long before we were even first graders.
Here as we turn the corner on middle age, we still consider our visits “therapy” more than anything else. I cannot think of a thing I could confess to Ellen that would shock her or make her love me any less. She always calls me her touch-tone. I was really down about several things over the past couple of weeks, but I came away from lunch with Ellen feeling as though I had left the big fat elephant that had been standing on my chest behind. You know that feeling?
She brought me a funny birthday card with Lucy and Ethel on the front, and it sings in the off-key awful way that only Lucy Ricardo and Ethel Mertz could, “Friendship – friendship – just a perfect blendship.” Of course it is silly as can be and we sat in Bravo giggling like we were fifteen instead of fifty-eight! The front of the card says, “The smile of a friend is better than chocolate.”
My focus the last few days had been on so many negatives in my life coupled with worry (I know it’s a sin, I know…I know) about many things beyond my control. Just a silly card and the face to face conversation with my oldest and dearest friend, and life just feels better all over. A real visit beats e-mail everytime.
A merry heart doeth good like a medicine. Proverbs 15:13.
Laughter is such a Godly thing. I have to tell you one more thing that is bound to make you smile. This past weekend Charles was visiting with our four-year-old granddaughter, Katie. She has blonde curls and blue eyes like her mother. Charles’ once had a head of thick black hair, but it disappeared long before we met. As Katie began to tell him about one of her favorite cartoon friends, she described in great detail the character’s appearance. She was quite serious when she included in the description, “And, Papa, his head is growing through the top of his hair just like yours.”
It was really hard not to dissolve in laughter right there.
The economy is terrible, but laughter is free…and it’s good for your soul and your spirit and your body. So, please, Lord, help us all do more of it every day!
And thank you, Lord, extra specially for the parts of us that reflect your love to those around us.