Prayers & Blessings

Sisters function as safety nets in a chaotic world simply by being

there for each other.

Carol Saline, from "Sisters"

Of the many blessings I have received, one of the most special is the wonderful abundance of sisters-in-law that I am fortunate enough to have. Each one has her own special talents and is equally important to me. I know I do not show my gratitude enough. I feel it in my heart, but am definitely not as demonstrative as I should be. I hope that each one realizes how much I appreciate her and how much each one means to me.

After work today I made a point to leave early enough to enjoy a stroll on the beach with the children and the dog. On the first leg of the trip, the children and I laughed and giggled and made up new verses to the never-ending diarrhea song. Today's focus was on the dog since she had performed an act that brought the song to mind once more. One of the winners today was, "When it's nice and hot and you see the dog squat DIARRHEA! DIARRHEA!" Yeah, I know, Mom-of-the-Year material here. On the way back, each of us separated for a bit. I guess we all enjoy the solitude a good beach walk can provide. During my alone time, I was struck by the beauty of God's work. I also recalled the sermon our pastor had preached on Sunday. This is perhaps just a small tidbit of what he was trying to convey, but it's what jumped out at me on today's jaunt. He was comparing "church prayers"...the ones that were quite formal and spoken during the service....to our own personal prayers. He spoke of how his private prayers were more like little one-liners. He believed that God was able to interpret it all and make sense of it. I think this part of the service popped into my mind because moments before, without really realizing it, I had been praying. I was thinking about one of my sisters-in-law who is going through one of the most agonizing things I can even imagine: the terminal illness of her husband. It pains me to even write that t-word. I was asking for God's help. It wasn't a formal "church" prayer, but more like a mulling-things-over-in-my-mind kind of prayer. I feel extremely helpless. I want Him to help me help her. My mind and heart are filled with thoughts of her and Lemon-Pie Man and their family. She lived with us for about 9 months while her home was being repaired after Hurricane Isabel. During that time we had many chats....many of which involved issues I had dealing with the death of my mother. She always had the right words to say and always made me see things from a better perspective. She was even the one who told me in her lovingly blunt way months after Mom's death (before living with us) that I needed to get it together or "see someone". It wasn't until that moment that I realized that I had just been going through the motions of existence rather than living a life. While living together, we even discussed that moment. I know, as do many others, I have a revulsion to personal failure. Supporting my sister-in-law is a no-room-for-failure situation. I pray that God will give me the right words to say and enough strength to support my sister-in-law and her family. I pray that He will help me be more demonstrative in my love for all my family. I have faith that He will get us through yet another storm. As the stained glass window inscription Hubby's side of the family sponsored in the church says, "For the storms we weather." Together we weather many a storm. Even when storms brew amongst us, the love of God and the love that binds our family get us past the most difficult trials until we are once again lulled by the calm.

Fourteen?!

Love does not consist of gazing at each other, but in looking together in the same direction. ~Antoine de Saint-Exupery

I truly believe in fate and destiny when I reflect on my relationship with Hubby. I met him while vacationing in the small beach community where we now live. It was, amazingly, the summer before I entered 8th grade. Even then, I knew there was some sort of connection between us. I have much more to write in honor of our 14th wedding anniversary, but I will edit those in later. I just felt the need to quickly acknowledge our special day first thing this morning. I wouldn't trade any of our times together. OK, so some of you have been privy to the complaints that have arisen over the course of our relationship. However, I would not trade those experiences because those have made us the people we are today and have molded our life. I love this guy more than I can ever express and could not imagine an existence without him. Until I have more time.....

The Gift

So, like a forgotten fire, a childhood can always flare up again within us. ~ Gaston Bachelard

A recent email enumerating characteristics of growing up in the (cough) 70's (cough) reminded me just how much I LOVED to watch Little House on the Prairie. My favorite items in my wardrobe at one time were the handmade dresses that resembled those worn by my idol, Laura Ingalls. They were fondly referred to as my "Laura dresses". At the time I thought they were so novel. Now, during my cynical adult years, I realize that these wardrobe essentials were more of a money-saver than anything else. It still doesn't matter. I loved each and every one of those things, made with the loving hands of either my mom or nanny (grandmother....not babysitter - I was wearing homemade dresses for goodness sake!). I was not the only fan of Little House. My circle of friends deemed the show as wonderful and so, to us in our sheltered world, it WAS, as they say now, "All that". Embarrassingly enough, our love for the show continued into our "tween" stage. This morning, as I lolled in bed recovering from the whirlwind shopping trip to Virginia I made after work with Luscious and Daughter after school yesterday (resulting in my 2 am arrival at home and thus little sleep BUT some new SMALLER clothes -smiling face), I lazily used the guide button on the remote to peruse my viewing options. There it was. My old friend from youth: Little House. Even better was the episode that brought us immense joy...the one where Albert (the adopted son of Charles and Caroline aka Laura's adopted brother) is addicted to morphine and goes through the DT's coming off it. A gem. This, if I recall correctly, was a special prime time episode...perhaps after the regular show was no longer weekly. Laura was grown and married to Almanzo. Charles and Albert were visiting Walnut Grove. Albert was a drug-crazed freak, stealing drugs and wild. Let me interrupt this tale with some background info. My mom was my Girl Scout leader for most of my years in the program. We basically had the same group of girls the entire time and these chicks were my best friends. Girl Scout camping trips, sleepovers, seances, GIGGLES, Little House, etc. (realigning with initial story) Well, unfortunately for my mom and the other leader, this episode aired right before an overnight trip to a house our council owned and let troops use in the winter for overnight trips. How these women stood it I will never know. During the episode, Albert goes through this whole scene where he is "coming off the morphine". The highlight is when he pukes (up front and personal - directly in front of the camera) a milky-white liquid. Fortunately, since we were still a bit naive, we did not make any crude, "Rod Stewart and the Soccer Team" analogies. However, we were like a crazed pack of wild dogs. We re-enacted the scene many times that weekend, evening spitting milk. The adults probably wanted morphine by the time we were done screaming, "Morphine!" and spewing milk all weekend. I have since lost touch with every one of those girls....after moving from NJ to NC at 14, it was inevitable. But, boy, do those memories still put a smile on my face and a warmth in my heart. I guarantee you that if I bumped into any one of those chicks and just uttered the word 'morphine', a smile would curl our lips upward slowly until we finally burst into laughter. I am smiling now thanks to my trip down memory lane. I am viewing this mental journey as a special Mother's Day gift from my own mom. When I turned to the show, hoping I had not missed the BEST part of the whole episode: the expulsion of milk, I was delighted to see that it was only moments away. I watched as Albert violently and uncontrollably shook on the bed in a sweat, begging for Pa to help him. Pa, with all his strength, held Albert and consoled him....telling him to "let it all out". Albert, obedient son, did as instructed: BLAH! MILK! How excellent to have the opportunity to see this childhood favorite on Mother's Day weekend. Knowing Mom, who - by the way - ended up laughing as hysterically as we did, this was one of her cherished memories as well. Thanks for the fabulous gift, Mom. I love you.

Belly Laughs

A laugh is a smile that bursts. ~Mary H. Waldrip

I love to laugh. Plain and simple. I adore humor and engaging in behavior that leads to deep, free laughter. I am still on the Monk-e-Mail bandwagon. Watching those monkeys say the tasteless phrases that my friends and I type for them to say is just the funniest thing in the world to me right now. I sit in front of that screen watching those monkeys recite the most hysterical trash in those ridiculous clothes and laugh to the point of practically wetting my pants. My family thinks I am insane. Well, Daughter thinks it's pretty funny, too. Her favorite is the line from Napoleon Dynamite where he is urging Tina to eat...."Tina, you fat lard, eat. Food. Eat the food." The line itself is not so funny...but seeing that monkey in clothes and glasses with llamas in the background, it is very amusing. Yo-L, Clementine, and Clem....see you in the Monk-e-Mail world. Thanks for the GOOD TIMES. :0)

Instruction Manual, Please

In spite of the six thousand manuals on child raising in the bookstores, child raising is still a dark continent and no one really knows anything. You just need a lot of love and luck - and, of course, courage. ~Bill Cosby

Constantly questioning myself as a parent makes me yearn for ONE simple instruction booklet that could save me countless hours of second-guessing myself. Today was a day when I could have used a solid, this-is-the-way-to-handle-this advice. While at school this afternoon, I heard that someone in our community had hung himself. As it turned out, it was someone Hubby, Daughter, and Son knew quite well. Daughter loved seeing him at the marina where Hubby's boat is docked. He was always friendly and treated the children wonderfully. So, this afternoon I had to tell Daughter that this man had died. She was quite upset, but wanted to know what happened. "Did he have a heart attack?" she asked. I really didn't know what to say. Should I divulge the complete truth, exposing her to the reality of suicide? Should I try to shelter my ten-year-old from the the harsh realities of the grown-up world? I needed that non-existent manual. During step class, the "guy who hung himself" was mentioned. I also received a call at home from a concerned friend....someone who knew that Daughter would be crushed by the news. At that point, I believed that it would be best to make sure she heard the truth at home from Hubby and me rather than "out on the street". Although the pain associated with having to tell Daughter such awful news is nothing compared to the anguish this man must have been experiencing, it was pretty horrible having to explain to our baby girl what had happened to her friend. Even though I know it was best to hear it from us, it was terrible having to expose her to the harshness of life. I am hoping we did the right thing. I am rather sure we did, but there's always that doubt. A nice little instruction manual with all the answers would make life so much easier!

Oh the Horror!

The most flattering comments on your hair come the day before you are scheduled to have it cut. - unknown

Yes, this is especially true when you are a four-year-old boy who is planning on cutting his own hair. Yesterday Son participated in this rite of passage by hacking off his bangs. Like the second grader in my class last year, I know that it will only look worse as it grows out. Right now, the bangs are so short that it isn't too bizarre looking. Time and hair growth will change that. I cannot look at him without thinking about Martin Short as the synchronized swimmer. Even worse, I don't think he is over this thirst for cutting his own hair. As he snuggled with me last night I watched him lift a chunk of blond and pretend to snip in a scissor-like action with his other hand. Daughter reached this milestone in kindergarten and even displayed keen lying skills to boot. I was home on leave with Son when she came home having hacked off a piece...maybe two inches long....from the side, a more sensible and less obvious area. She told us that some boy was involved and that he had gotten in trouble for it. After a nonchalant comment to the teacher, I realized that no one was involved except for my precious little future-criminal. Luckily her talent for lying has not strengthened and I can usually detect her feeble attempts at deceit. Never again has she cut her hair. I would keep my fingers crossed in hopes that Son will be satiated by his first and only snip, but I don't even want to jinx myself by making scissor-like moves with any body parts!