Patience

Whenever I was younger, I had very little patience. . . for anything. Like your typical adolescent I wanted things quickly. I didn’t want to have to wait.

As I grew in my career, I had to learn patience. My first full-time teaching assignment was in the secondary Migrant program. Those students moved from district to district throughout the year. I had to diagnose and analyze the gaps in their learning because of their migration. Often, they didn’t learn exactly as I did so I would have to determine the best way to present the material so that they could understand it. I would break the subject down into small steps, reinforce their successes and re-teach (over and over) when they didn’t grasp the ideas. Most of the time, I would just get started filling the gaps and having the student be successful at the lesson when their parents would up and move them again. From this teaching assignment, I learned that I had the capacity for developing patience. In fact, since then, I have become a very patient person.

My students and colleagues have commented that I have the patience of Job. I’m not sure about that, but I will admit that I encourage and support my students as they learn and that I am willing to re-teach (over and over) lessons until the light bulb moment. So, I would consider myself a very patient person, but it didn’t come naturally.

On the other hand, I married a man and I also have two children who do not have patience—none, nil, nix, nein, notta. I question whether they have the capacity to acquire patience. They want what they want now, if not before. We joke about it amongst ourselves. I say that whenever God passed out patience, they said “No, thanks.” Sarcastically, I call the guys “Mr. Patience” and my daughter, “Miss Patience.” My son-in-law, in contrast, has a fair amount of patience and he is not a complainer. He just goes with the flow.

I have resigned myself to accept the things I cannot change—that is, successfully teaching patience to my family. They are unmotivated learners where this virtue is concerned.

"A friend loveth at all times." Proverbs 17:17

Fortunate

During the moment of silence we are offered every school day, I thank God for his many blessings that he bestows on my family. We are all very blessed, but my children are particularly fortunate. Perhaps it is because they are strong young people and they have postured themselves to be successful in their endeavors. Perhaps it is because they are prayerful themselves. Perhaps it is because of intercessory prayers of many of our friends and relatives. It doesn’t really matter from where their blessings originate, the fact is that God does bless them in so many ways.

Out of the blue, J. P. got a raise last month. Brit and J. P. are in the “study” which pays for many of the expenses associated with in vitro and, hopefully, that, too, will be successful in the near future. B. C. was notified last week that he got another scholarship which is enough to pay for the rest of his TAMU expenses.

Those are just the blessings of the past month or so. Just imagine what lies in store for them.

"A friend loveth at all times." Proverbs 17:17

Treehouses

When they were kids, my brothers had treehouses in two of the trees around our home. They called the one in the tallest tree a clubhouse. They wrote a secret pact and stuck the paper between the bark and the trunk. They would discuss their members-only club and describe what fun they had in their treehouses.

I was very curious about all of that. They were older, so naturally, I assumed that they knew more than me. Their secret pact intrigued me. So, I got the notion to climb up in their treehouse to see what it was like.

I negotiated each of the wobbly boards carefully as I ascended to the pinnacle. They were rickety so I was nervous about climbing up. I kept my eyes skyward toward the treehouse platform. It didn’t occur to me to look down. When I got to the top of the tree and slid onto the platform of the treehouse, I turned around and looked outward and eventually downward. The world began to spin around me. I got really dizzy. I couldn’t move. I was petrified. That’s my first encounter with my fear of heights.

I decided to make the best of it while I was up there though. I found their secret pact in its tight hiding place and I opened it up slowly while checking all around me to see if they had spotted me yet. That secret pact was a bunch of gibberish that I couldn’t understand. I just thought that those boys were stupid to make such a fuss over something so unintelligible.

The real problem arose, though, when Mother called us to supper. I couldn’t get down. I’d try with all my might to reach my little foot down to the first step. It would move downward and I’d scrunch back up to the platform. I did this several times before I realized that I wasn’t going to be able to get down without some help. I began to yell for Mother to come help me. She sent the boys. Wonderful! Now they were going to know that I had gotten into their exclusive club treehouse.

They did come to my rescue, but only after chastising me for getting up there in the first place.

Several weeks later, I got brave again and thought I’d climb up the smaller tree to their other hideout. I discovered that my brothers had taken off the bottom step so I couldn’t reach it. So, I just got a lawn chair and it gave me enough height to reach the second step. I took my doll and slowly climbed up to the treehouse. I thought that I’d reached the sky. This tree was much smaller than the other one so I was not nearly as scared. I played there for what seemed like hours, then I climbed down and went inside.

When they got home from school, they scrambled up to their treehouses only to find that I’d left evidence behind that indicated that I’d been there. They discovered my doll. Since they knew I was afraid of heights, they conspired to take the top step off of the treehouse ladder. That way, I couldn’t get down once I got up there.

The next day, I scrambled to the top of the second treehouse to play again. It was a really long ways from the existing step to the treehouse platform, but I didn’t really notice that the top step was gone. Again, I pretended to be in a lookout for bad guys until nearly time for them to get off the bus.

That’s when I discovered (much to my dismay) that I couldn’t get down. No matter how far I reached my little leg down the tree toward the remaining top step, I just could not touch it. I stretched and stretched and nearly fell. So, all I could do was begin to beckon Mother to come and get me. She said I’d have to wait until the boys got home and one of them would come up and help me down. I began to cry. If there was one thing in the world that those boys couldn’t stand, it was my crying. Well, one did help me down and I was in trouble with both of them. They scolded me again and told me that the next time I climbed up to their treehouse that they wouldn’t get me down.

Because I was so naïve, I believed them. I never climbed into their treehouses again for fear of living out the rest of my natural life there.

"A friend loveth at all times." Proverbs 17:17

Perception versus Truth

It seems that more and more often, I realize that there is not a wide enough separation between the perception we possess and the truth. I had this principal once who used to say, “It doesn’t matter what the TRUTH is, a person’s perception of the truth is their reality.” Although I understood and agreed with this statement, I only began appreciating it more and more the last few years.

Too often people don’t really care what the TRUTH is. They would rather wallow in their perceptions, slander other’s character, be the victim, or look the hero. Even small variations from the truth can give a totally different perception. People judge based upon their own viewpoints without ever seeking the truth.

Recently while visiting friends who are remodeling their kitchen, the husband said that he and his wife were fighting over the decisions for the makeover everything from paint color to cabinet finishes. I remarked that although my husband and I had built two houses that we had never even fussed once. His friend was standing there and he pointed his finger at me and said, “That’s because your husband is afraid of you!”

I was quite taken aback because that man hardly knew us. His perception was that I ruled the roost and bossed my husband around. The truth is that we agreed at the beginning of our building projects that my husband could have whatever he wanted in the house and what he didn’t have a preference for, I would choose. We were certain that his preferences were met first. Therefore, we never had any arguments.

I figure lots of people think that I am bossy and controlling. In my classroom, I would say that is probably accurate. But that’s because I must save my sanity amongst the teenagers. However, outside the classroom and at home, that's not the truth.

Ask my husband about his honey-do list and he’ll tell you that he doesn’t have one. He hardly ever has had one. Only when our schedule is impossibly crowded do I ask him for help. That’s not to say that he doesn’t help out, because he does. He takes initiative to do lots of tasks, but not because I ask or demand it.

So the perception that I dominate our relationship is not accurate. The truth is that we come to an agreement before proceeding. Sometimes we agree to disagree, but nevertheless we move forward. We get along pretty well that way.

"A friend loveth at all times." Proverbs 17:17

Stradivarius

I’ve told several stories about my brother, Rick, and how he would use the fact that I am trusting to his advantage by telling me tall tales and having me believe them totally. Often, I would repeat his outlandish stories only to have the a few people hearing them assume that I was just lying. Since I’ve never been in the habit of lying, most people who knew us realized that my brother had told me a whopper.

What I haven’t yet told you is that my other brother, Gayland, has also duped me. He has had a love of music from an early age. Since my grandfather, Lemmie, was a fiddler, Gayland decided to take up fiddle playing, too. Grandmother Johnie gave him my grandfather’s fiddle so that he could learn to play. With perseverance and a few lessons, he became pretty good at fiddling. In fact, he used to go to the nursing homes regularly and entertain with some other musicians.

Once when I was at his house, he got out his fiddle and let me inspect it. In case you haven’t ever looked one over, they are pretty neat. The wood is beautiful and their gentle curvature looks so graceful. He pointed out that inside the fiddle there was a label that said Stradivarius. I peeked inside and sure enough, there it was. I had heard of a Stradivarius violin before. They are extremely expensive, extremely rare, and extremely old. He let me believe that his was one of those “real” Stradivarius violins.

I realize now that I should have known right then and there that that story couldn’t be true. Our family never had any expensive or rare possessions, just old and sentimental ones.

Some time later, I was chatting in the teacher’s workroom with some of my colleagues about families’ prized possessions. Of course, I had to share my story about my brother’s Stradivarius violin with them. They looked at me like I had three heads and most likely thought, “What a liar, the loser!” Nevertheless, they were gracious and commented, “I certainly hope he takes good care of it.” To which I replied, “Oh yes, he keeps it in its case whenever he’s not playing it.”

It wasn’t until several months later when I stumbled upon a copy of a Sears & Roebuck catalog from 1909 that I realized what a gullible fool I had been. There for all to see was advertised a Stradivarius violin offered for $1.95. Of course, it was a reproduction, but nowhere was that indicated. I’m reasonably certain that Gayland’s Stradivarius is a Sears & Roebuck Stradivarius reproduction since there weren’t but 1200 violins made by Stradivari in the 1700’s.

I look back and wish that I had never mentioned his violin because the one person whom I most admired and to whom I related this story, is now deceased and I can’t go back and tell her that I was a goober and believed my brother’s tall tale. Rest assured that I’m more careful now about what I repeat just for that reason.

"A friend loveth at all times." Proverbs 17:17

TGIF

More and more often, I look forward to Fridays. The springtime is very crazy with school activities, sports activities, spring cleaning, tax figuring, scholarship applications, FAFSA completing, Easter, yard work, etc. that I actually become like the students and say "TGIF".


"A friend loveth at all times." Proverbs 17:17

War is on

Yesterday, our community experienced an awakening. The entire day, Officer Brown, from the San Saba police department met with students, faculty, and community members to offer lots of tips on waging war against drugs in our community. He was joined by Dr. Killian (one of the local physicians) and Frank Craig (a counselor for drug addict inmates) in giving graphic, detailed information on what the short and long-term effects are on the body.

A large number of people of all ages attended the session last night. It was supposed to last from 6:00-8:00 p.m. and it wound up lasting until 9:30 p.m. Even then, although we were all tired, he had only scratched the surface on ways to recognize and combat drug abuse.

He challenged the faculty and parents to be positive role models for students. He challenged the police department, community, schools, and families to take back our kids. He urged all entities to support each other in words and actions. Finally, he said that while we were all in the same mindset that we must act quickly to develop a plan of action to wage this war on drugs and to give our kids reasons to stay drug-free.

He received a standing ovation and many rounds of applause during his presentation. I felt a camaraderie that I have not experienced here in Hamilton in a long time. Finally, it seemed that everyone was focused on the same goal. I was encouraged by the collaborative response from the audience. Let it be known that we have had a few battles, but now the war is on.

Advice

From time to time, my children ask for advice. They question themselves.

When my daughter asked what I thought about her transformation over the past several years from being a quiet doormat to being a self-confident businesswoman, I related this story.

“The adage 'To thine own self be true' comes to mind because all that really is significant is that you are pleased with yourself. Someone once said that they were at their best when they finally became 'comfortable in their own skin.' I think that you are approaching that stage now. The metamorphosis that I witness is amazing and overdue. You have come into your own.

You must know that I love both Britneys. Realizing that there are two means that you are growing. A blend of the two might be good, but finding out just who you are and being contented with yourself is what maturity is all about.

Recognizing your strengths and your weaknesses is a huge step in the process. Once you determine the "best" Britney, embrace her and help her continue to pursue joy.”

I think that was pretty good advice even if I did think of it myself.

UNOS Pizza

Over the last three weeks, I have had the rare opportunity to travel with my “big” kids to the metroplex. As a treat, we went to Sundance Square in downtown Fort Worth (corner of 2nd and Houston) to eat at Uno’s Italian Restaurant. Let me just say this: “Their pizza is the best – bar none -- that I have ever eaten -- in my life.” What makes it so good is the deep dish crust and the delectable cheeses that top it. I like the four-cheese individual pizza with mushrooms and black olives. The four cheese pizza features pesto and plum tomatoes topped with mozzarella, Muenster, Romano and feta cheeses. One piece will fill me up, but I go ahead and eat two just so I don’t hurt the chef’s feelings. Then, I take the rest home in a box so I can savor it later.

Is it any wonder?

People wonder why I'm the way I am. Wonder no more. The man in the picture on the right is my dad. Now, they understand exactly why I am the way I am.

A friend brought this clipping by to me last week. His mother is the tall woman in the center. While going through some of her things recently, he happened upon this picture. I scanned it and returned the original. I've had a lot of fun recalling that more tranquil time. Dad always had a neat sense of humor and it is exhibited by his "get-up" during Krazy Daze (a Chamber of Commerce promotional event) in 1965.

City Drug was the coffee shop of the day. Business men met there every day to exchange stories (not gossip, you understand, because men don't do that). As a child, I loved going there on Saturday's as mother did our grocery shopping. I would get a cherry phosphate served up in one of those Coke glasses you see on the table. Ahhhh,
memories. They are so precious.

Our Family

Our family is a blessing...

it shares so many things.

Words can never really express

the happiness family brings.

Our family holds an unbreakable tie no matter where we travel.

Our family shares a special bond that time can never unravel.

A Giant Upset

I love watching football. . . most especially my beloved Bulldogs, Aggies, and Cowboys. Only if they are not playing will I choose a side and it will invariably be that I root for the underdog.

On so many levels, the Super Bowl was a triumph of the underdog. The game was much more than it was touted to be. Few people gave the New York Giants a chance to win the game. They got in the playoffs by being a wild card team. In fact, I heard that the bets were overwhelmingly in favor of the Patriots. However, a Patriots win was not to be.

In my humble opinion, the New York Giants set a goal early in the year and proceeded to systematically and determinedly reach that goal. I really hated it when the Giants beat the Cowboys. I was upset, but I had to respect them for their efforts.

In the Super Bowl, it was obvious that the Giants defense had “done their homework” and play by play picked apart the Patriots offense. The Giants never gave up; never seem frustrated nor panicked. They just kept patiently playing the game forging forward to victory.

There were very few turnovers and penalties. They didn’t seem to be a big factor in the outcome. The big play was when Eli Manning escaped what seemed like a sure sack and sailed the ball to Tyree who used basketball-like finesse to snare and secure it. That play gave the Giants the momentum for the ensuing Manning-Burress touchdown.

I noticed that although they were elated, they still took nothing for granted. They knew the game was not over even with only half a minute left. I detected guarded optimism. The Patriots still had all of their timeouts left. The Giants just chipped away at the Patriots offense and made sure that they defended the guaranteed passes.

I really feel like the New York Giants had a bigger plan. They used their weapons to their advantage and never gave thought to anything less than winning. It would have been easy to become an “also ran”, but they kept their eyes on the prize and defeated the almost perfect Patriots.

Perhaps the Patriots rested on their laurels. I have no way of knowing. However, I do know this, I admire people who set goals and use the tools that they have to accomplish them picking apart their competitors (i.e. Bulldogs vs. Mart Panthers).

I will also add that even though the Patriots’ coach and quarterback were obviously very disappointed, they showed class and gave credit to the Giants because they were due the credit of defeating the previously undefeated Patriots. Instead of trash talking and placing blame, they congratulated the Giants. That tells a lot about their character.

Sometimes underdogs prevail which makes things seem balanced somehow. That is what competition is about and it is good.

Cindy

A couple of weeks ago, my daughter and I went over to Stephenville for her eye exam. While we were in Wal-Mart, I ran into a “girl” that I grew up with. I hadn’t seen her in several months so, of course, we spent time catching up.

Used to, we would see each other at least every Easter at church, if not more often. She hadn’t seen my daughter since she was small so that was a real treat for her. I’m not sure when the last time was that she saw my son, but he was probably younger than school age. I showed her pictures that I had in my wallet.

She caught me up on her family, too. She told me about her girls and what they were doing and where they were living. We discussed her great aunt who was over 100 and who had passed away a couple of years ago. We recounted our childhood days romping and playing and ruling the play area between our grandmothers’ houses.

Her sister had actually been closer to my age, but I always got along better with her than with her older sister. I think it was because she was so upbeat and she smiled a lot and was just a happy little girl.

Anyway, we had a few stories to relate to Brit so that she could get a sense of our relationship and our childhood.

Near the end of the conversation, she asked me if I was still teaching. I told her, “Lord, yes. I’ve been there 29 years.”

At that point, she asked me if I knew this “girl” named Cindy who lives in our community. I said, “Well, yes, I do. I teach with her and I’ve taught both of her boys.”

She said that her third daughter and Cindy’d oldest son were together and that she felt sorry for the baby because of both grandmother Cindys. I told her that I had probably seen her daughter several times, but that I never made the connection.

I remember her older two girls better because they were the ones I saw at Easter more often. But, I remembered her remarrying, having more children, and moving to Stephenville. Time passes so quickly that I never realized that they were not still the little girls in the frilly dresses I remembered from the Lamkin Methodist Church Easter Egg hunts.

For many years, Easter was the biggest treat because all of the little ladies of the church would get together and make this huge production of the Easter Sunday egg hunt and party. All the kids who grew up there came back and brought their children to bask in the attention slathered on by the little grandmothers and great aunts.

Cindy and her sister, Jeannie, would come down to Lamkin from Fort Worth every summer to visit their grandmother, Sadie, and Aunt Dixie. Sadie lived directly behind my grandmother on the next block. The area in between the two houses (and most of Lamkin, in fact) was our stomping grounds. We thought we “ruled the roost”, but actually, it was our grandmothers who did. We just got to shoo the other chicks out of the way.

Those are great memories. I have always just loved Cindy. She is a great person and I know that you are fortunate to have her as your grandchild’s “other Cindy.” I don’t even know her last name now. I just know that when I see her, it’s as if we’ve never really been apart, just catch up a little bit and move on.

I wanted to share this because it is a small world, after all.

How 'bout those Aggies?

Those Aggie basketball players whooped up on the t.u. guys last night. Way to go! Whoop! Thanks and Gig 'Em!

They won by 17 points over a very talented (albeit loathsome) team. At one point, the horns pulled to within 9, but they were never a serious threat. One of the horns was ejected from the game for a flagrant foul. Shame on him.

Dominique Kirk remains a formidable foe on the Aggie team. He is my son's friend. All I know is that he is really tall, but by comparison to the Aggie freshmen, he's not. I understand that two of the freshmen are 6' 11" and 7' tall. That means that they can't enter a normal size door without ducking their heads. I'll bet they are good rebounders as well as shooters.

People watching

I’ve encountered lots of people in my lifetime. Because I have had opportunities to mingle with many different types of people, I have become a people watcher (if you will).

Most of my acquaintances are casual ones. We exchange just the normal greetings and niceties as we pass the day.

However, some people with whom I’m associated have peaked my interest. I’ve categorized some of them into three sorts.

First, there are the waxers. The waxers are those whose behavior is much like that of a piece of wood heavily laden with thick wax. Things just sort of roll off of them. They are not disturbed by life’s problems. They go with the flow.

Next, come the wedgers. They are the people who like to drive wedges between other people (or sometimes between themselves and other people). For whatever reason, they want to keep others at bay. I suspect that perhaps the wedger is either of the controlling nature, a jealous-hearted person, or a vindictive individual. In any event, the wedger wants to keep people separate from one another.

Finally, there are the sealers. Those are the ones who want to bond people together in relationships. They become a friend and never let go. The sealers stick to others like glue, but with an important difference. Their relationships are impenetrable. They are loyal to the bitter end and overlook any imperfections.

Personally, I prefer the waxers and the sealers. They are much more fun to be around. The wedgers just cause distress to those around them.

Out of Kilter

The last couple of weeks have seemed out of kilter. The world is not in order. The natural progression of life is off. We don’t get to choose the chronology, God does. We have to wonder just how everything went awry. Faith will get us through and we will get straightened out soon, but in the meantime, it feels a little unsettling.

There have been too many deaths. I can hardly get over one loss and another one comes along.

I hope that life settles down soon into a calm, smooth pool with no ripples.

UFO Hunting

Years ago, my husband encountered an unknown flying object at our lease. For him, the experience was very real and somewhat disconcerting. Ever since, he’s been a believer. A couple of years ago, he and his best friend spotted a multi-colored, illuminated object darting and dancing across the sky near the local airport. I’m not sure if the object actually existed or whether it was the spirits he’d embibed that enabled the sighting. Nevertheless, he now thinks that he attracts UFOs.

News reports from the Stephenville Empire-Tribune (ET) to the Larry King Live show have carried the story of the January 8^th UFO sighting. Saturday, my husband suggested that we go to Stephenville, former cowboy capital and now the current alien capital of the world, to hunt the spaceship. Since my husband attracts UFOs, we were confident that we would find one.

From the news reports, we couldn’t discern which way the UFO approached Stephenville. We could only imagine, then, that it most likely came over our house first and then flew northwest to Stephenville. Sure enough, once we found more information, the sightings were at Selden which is between our place and Stephenville.

Upon arriving in Stephenville, we chuckled at the various business’ signs commenting on the sightings. One electronic sign depicted a space ship followed by the question, “Which way did they go???” Another displayed “Aliens welcome here.” Still others informed, “Space ship parking in rear” and “Aliens like tacos, too.” The light-hearted signage gave a nice comic relief from our steadfast pursuit.

A phone call from my best friend cautioned to not get too close when we saw the spaceship, because it most assuredly would beam my husband up. So, we decided to be very cautious as we started our quest.

At dark, we finished our shopping and proceeded to “hunt” hard core. Just as we were passing a convenience store, my husband spotted it. A bright light in the northeastern sky zipped across the skyline at just the speed suggested by the news reports.

We pulled into the parking lot and my husband got outside. He looked up into the sky and pointed at it to show me exactly where to aim my camera. Almost instantaneously the convenience store emptied to see what he was pointing at. Noticing the commotion, the cars whizzing by on the highway hit their brakes and their brake lights glowed like Christmas. They were unquestionably gazing at the same phenomenon.

Alas, the bright white light was nothing more than an airplane (most likely searching for the same UFO we sought). Everyone dispersed, but not before jokingly commenting that we would all keep an outlook toward the skies for the UFOs return.

Finally giving up the hardcore search, we decided to travel home on the back roads. With a clear sky, we thought that we might catch a glimpse of the UFO if it were to come back. But, it was not to be that night. Like true hunters, however, we will relentlessly continue our search for the trophy.

Moose Tale

When Brit and J. P. first started dating, he took us and Shanda on a tour of the big ranch house. In the lofty living room, a moose head watched the center of activity. He was quite large with a solemn face (the moose, that is.)

As we passed by, J. P. led the troop and he casually said, “See that old moose? I shot him down in the bottom last year.”

Shanda replied, “Really? That’s neat!” There was an awkward silence as she and Brit envisioned him bagging that moose.

Because I really didn’t know J. P. very well at all at that time, I hesitated, but I finally blurted out, “Shanda, he’s lying to you.”

She whipped around surprised at what she’d heard! Since she knew him much better than me, she couldn’t believe that I’d say something like that right there in front of him. She totally trusted J. P. You see, she had swallowed his story: hook, line, and sinker.

Youth! They’ll believe anything.

Another Infusion Day

If anyone had told me years ago that I would actually look forward to getting my veins punctured to put medicine in, I'd have probably said, "Not in this lifetime." However, times, they have changed. Not only do I look forward to it, I embrace it. The Remicade is like a lifeline.

I always feel so much better the days after my infusion because of the "liquid gold" that runs through my veins. At the end of the eight week cycle, I feel so lethargic in the few days just prior to the infusion that I can hardly make myself put one foot in front of the other.

Check with me tomorrow to see just how much better my outlook is. I'll bet that it will once again be great!

Aggie Graduate

Barring anything unforeseen, our son will be an honor graduate from Texas A & M on Friday, August 8^th. That’s only 3 years after starting! Whoop! And Gig ‘em!

While completing scholarship applications, he noticed that he could graduate in August. After he thought about it for a while, it made perfect sense. His apartment lease will be up in August. Since he works in the Student Business Services office (tuition payment department), he learned that A & M has instituted a new tuition program where the second summer session is half price. Couple both of those situations with the fact that A & M also implements its new differentiated tuition plan in the fall where both A & M engineering students and business students must pay $500.00 more for each course in their degree area, and his decision to graduate in August was a no-brainer.

He will get his Aggie ring the day before graduation. His ring-dunking will be that night. So mark your calendars for 08/08/08.

He plans to take a little time to study for the LSAT and then apply to Law School. Where he'll end up, no one knows.

Please keep him in your prayers as he makes the final push toward graduation.

A Good Man

My husband is a good man. He’s not perfect, but he’s still a keeper. I fell in love with him when we were teens and he’s still the love of my life (warts and all). The reason I chose to write my blog about him is to uplift and encourage him. His life has not been a walk in the park.

He has a tender heart and loads of compassion. He is the youngest (and a twin) of a very large family. Although the family lacked material goods, their parents made up for it by providing love and a strong faith-base. This influence made him a God-fearing man. He tithes devotedly. He was raised to aid his family and friends whenever and however he could. The entire family pitches in to help one another. Sometimes his faith has been sorely tested, but he continues to find strength through it.

Speaking of strength, he has always been strong as an ox. With his might, he could move virtually any obstacle.

When we first married, in order to get ahead, he would work two or three jobs. Besides working at the telephone company during the day, he would roof houses, remodel buildings, or work as a shade-tree mechanic at night and on weekends.

When we finally had an opportunity, he, along with his friends and family (and a few subcontractors), built our beautiful home. I think he probably handled every board in it. By doing much of the work himself, he saved us thousands of dollars in labor which, of course, made our equity in the house much larger.

Because of a back injury early in his lineman career, he began to experience severe back pain just after we completed the house. Within four years, the pain became unbearable. He just wouldn’t give in to it until one day, he couldn’t take a step without excruciating pain.

He went to an orthopedic doctor who recommended shots in his back and an exercise regimen. He followed it faithfully, but the pain did not subside. As time went on, he was referred to a neurosurgeon who recommended surgery on the lower lumbar region fusing three discs together and stabilizing it with steel rods and screws. Reluctantly, he finally agreed. He just couldn’t take the pain any more.

It took an entire year to recover from it. He had to wear a huge back brace for months. A TENS unit was never far from reach. During the surgery, a nerve that connects to his foot was damaged and his foot didn’t work like it was supposed to. It was essentially dead. He couldn’t lift it like he should so his gait was altered and he often stumbled. He had to do rehabilitative therapy for his foot as well as for his back.

When we consider that my husband had been such a strong man with a strong work ethic, we can only imagine how being so incapacitated dealt him a blow. Most of our family and friends pitched in with various acts of kindness and encouragement. His sisters and brothers’-in-law would visit with him during the recovery process. They would take him to his doctor’s appointments. One brother-in-law came and mowed our lawn every week with only a “Glad I could do it for you” after the job was done.

His doctor told him to walk as far as he could five days a week to build up his stamina. He also recommended exercises with a large body ball. As is his way to overdo, he walked up to six miles a day in nice weather.

The neurosurgeon was concerned about his regimen so he said that any activity that provided him with aerobic activity would be beneficial. He specifically mentioned dancing (not disco or break dancing, though.) He said that would be a fun way for him to exercise and get the same effect as walking.

About three years after his first surgery, he faced another surgery on his neck. This time, the surgeon had to enter the area through his neck and place rods and screws in his upper spine. Again, recovery took almost a year.

Between his surgeries, he returned the favor to his family and friends by visiting them and taking them to their doctors’ appointments. He spent up to three weeks with his brother-in-law while he was in the hospital following an accident. These are just a few of the examples of his kind-heartedness and devotion to his family and friends. They showed their appreciation by throwing him a party and giving him a “World’s Best Brother” marble plaque.

Of course, he and his family and true friends continue to reciprocate kindnesses. However, he was blind-sided by one egregious and bitter disappointment. He has had to come to grips with the loss of a disloyal friend who criticizes his disability.

In the beginning, he refused to believe that this man who had been such a close friend was reacting this way. He defended him to others. However, over a period of time, it became painfully obvious that the arrogant man denounced his condition. My husband could not help but personalize the experience. Not only did the man openly criticize him to our other friends for not being able to work any longer, but he disapproved of any leisure activities that were remotely enjoyable for my husband (including the doctor-prescribed dancing). It seemed as if he wanted to kick him while he was down so to speak. . .punish him, if you will, for becoming unable to stand the pain of his backbones rubbing against each other and the vertebrae being displaced.

I can only conclude that this fickle friend is no “friend” at all. At a time when my husband desperately needed to be uplifted and shown emotional support and loyalty, this petty person could only rebuke him. How could he be so self-centered and small-minded as to scorn his friend for a physical disability that he could not overcome? I never wish pain on anyone, but what if this man were to get hurt or otherwise suffer? How would he react if my husband reciprocated this treatment? I’d suspect that he’d be mighty upset and defensive.

My hope is that some day my husband can find it in his heart to forget about the intolerant man for his short-sightedness. I know that he will forgive him because he’s been taught to do that. Perhaps the cold-hearted man will eventually be freed from the bondage of ignorance. I’m certain that he will never approach my husband face-to-face nor apologize for treating him the way he has because 1.) his narcissistic beliefs won’t let him see how mistaken he is and 2.) he never apologizes even if he realizes he’s in the wrong. Let’s face it: his ego is a self-righteous little monster. So, perhaps irreconcilable differences will remain between the two.

But as a Christian man, my husband can rely back on his faith to help him recover both emotionally and physically. He will continue his efforts to improve his mobility and to withstand the pain of managing his disability and of the loss of a relationship. He now realizes that no one else thinks of and reacts to his impairment like his disloyal friend who’s the one with the problem. . . that of a neck that is flaming scarlet. Therefore, with encouragement, my husband must move forward with his own life and not lament either loss.

Slight Correction

Little Addison Ann has a mind of her own. She did not make her debut until after midnight so her actual birthday will go down in the record books as January 9, 2008.

I think she has a little of Shanda and Justin about her already. . . strong-willed.

Welcome, Addison! I love you, Aunt Bun.

Happy Birthday!

Today is little Addison Ann Young's birthday! Welcome to the world little one. I've been anticipating this day for several months. I can't wait to meet her. My hope is that Shanda and Justin know just what a precious gift they've been given and treat her as such all the days of her life.

Today's date is also the name of an old, old song "The January the 8th Waltz". It's also my great-grandmother's birthday. 1-8-08 will be forever etched in my mind.

Hope

If you planted hope today in any hopeless heart,

If someone’s burden was lighter because you did your part,

If you caused a laugh that chased a tear away,

If tonight your name is mentioned when someone kneels to pray,

then your day was well spent.

Donna Doty

When I was in high school, I had a great friend named Donna Doty. She was a hoot. I loved being around her and laughing. She came up with some of the most insane ideas.

We used to do some dumb stuff. She was especially amusing during thunderstorms. She had learned in Mr. Chumney’s science class that rubber does not conduct electricity. [That very well may have been the only thing that she retained.]

So, the minute she heard thunder or saw lightning, she’d run to her closet and fetch her rubber-soled tennis shoes. Since she slept in an iron bed, she’d sleep in her tennis shoes to protect herself from electrocution by lightning. What a kookie idea! However, she did it every time without fail. Love ya, Dote.

Reindeer Sleigh

Sometimes, I just love silly stuff. I bought a Rudolph, the Red-nosed Reindeer costume for my car and put it on last Saturday. It consists of khaki antlers attached to my back passenger windows and a big round red nose attached to the grille. Since my car is fawn colored, the costume really makes it resemble a reindeer.

I like the joy and marvel on people’s faces when they realize what they are seeing. Sometimes people point, others grin, some just shake their heads when they notice the decorations on my reindeer sleigh.

Spreading Christmas cheer is contagious and I so enjoy it.

Disappointment

Joseph Addison (1672 ~ 1719) wrote, "Our real blessings often appear to us in the shape of pains, losses and disappointments; but let us have patience and we soon shall see them in their proper figures."

We all deal with emotions in different ways and to differing depths. One of the emotions that affects me the most is disappointment. I struggle with it often.

The word disappointment is made up of DIS and APPOINTMENT. DIS means separate, apart, or asunder. So, disappointment describes a feeling of dissatisfaction or anguish, which is experienced when I am torn apart from my expected appointment with fate.

Whether the disappointment is in someone else, in myself, in a situation, or in missing an engagement, I really grapple with it. I have to break it off bit by bit, chew on it for a while, separate the digestible, and then swallow it. Each stage takes a long time to process.

Whenever I am disappointed, it seems that my past disappointments bubble to the surface. Things get stirred up, and my accompanying emotion often has more to do with the cumulative effect of my lifelong disappointments than this particular one. I tend to catastrophize and consolidate it all together into one big lump.

I often jump into action—-retaliatory or self-protective—-without gleaning the most important lessons from disappointment so I’ve decided to confront disappointment by taking one giant step back. I am going to step away from the swirl of thoughts and emotions and simply look at it in a sort of interested bystander way. It's as though I’ll have a clipboard and I’m taking note of the underlying factors, my responses, and how I follow through.

God often ministers to my hurts through other people. It is tempting to put up walls when I’m feeling especially vulnerable, but if I shut out friends and loved ones, I would be sealing off healing and hope. Thank God for those who help me survive disappointments and learn life lessons from them.

Success

To laugh often and much;

To win the respect of intelligent people

and the affection of children;

To earn the appreciation

of honest critics and

endure the betrayal of false friends;

To appreciate beauty,

to find the best in others;

To leave the world a bit better,

whether by a healthy child,

a garden patch,

or a redeemed social condition;

To know even one life has breathed easier

because you have lived.

This is to have succeeded.

Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803 - 1882) American Essayist & Poet

Nutt House Bunch

When I was in college, I ran around with a large group of kids. My best friend and I often visited a group of cowboys who lived together in the Nutt House (literally). One of the resident’s of the Nutt House had gone to high school with us. The other four were from all over North and West Texas (Muleshoe, Plainview, Quanah, and Breckenridge).

They were your typical fun-loving countrified college kids. Because I only lived about thirty miles or so from campus, they would often come down to our house just to visit and get a home-cooked meal.

My family lived on a farm in the middle of nowhere. Therefore, we had lots of wildlife. Nothing excited the Nutt House Bunch more than hunting coons and rabbits.

One night when they came down for supper, we all went down to the bottom in a pickup. With two of us in the cab, the rest rode in the back with their rifles resting on the cab roof. We would zoom around Daddy’s fields spotting rabbits and they’d fire a shot. They usually hit their target.

After we tired of that, we drove over to the creek and shined for coons. Sure enough, we found some and they took aim at them, too. They never missed a shot.

Back then, coon skins were worth something. They’d retrieve them so that they could skin them and market the pelts. Rabbits, on the other hand, were not worth anything. So, the boys would take the rabbits by the tails, sling the rabbit really hard, and pop their tails off. Once the tails were free, they’d stuff them in their shirt pockets. At the end of the night, they pulled out the rabbit tails to see how many each one had. The one who had collected the most was pronounced the “winner” and won a can of snuff.

Now, that’s a redneck adventure isn’t it?

Sponge Candy

Grandmother Johnnie taught me how to make homemade candy when I was young. Every year thereafter, she and I would make candy at Christmas time. Once she got in ill health, it was up to me to make it. So, one year, my husband and I went over to my mother’s house to make a new candy recipe. The new recipe was called Sponge Candy. The recipe sounded pretty much like peanut brittle, but without the peanuts. I knew I would like it because I objected to the peanuts in the brittle anyway.

My husband, my Mom and Dad were watching TV in the den just off of the kitchen. They were within easy earshot.

I mixed up the ingredients in a heavy saucepan on the stove and cooked them to the right stage. The last step was to add baking soda (which is exactly what I do when making peanut brittle). The soda makes the sugar combination bubble up and makes little air holes in the brittle.

I expected the same from this recipe. I had prepared the jelly roll pan (notice that is singular) to pour the Sponge Candy in when it was ready.

I slowly added the soda and stirred it in. The candy began to quickly expand. I poured as much as I could fit into the prepared pan, but it continued to grow and grow and grow. I called out to my husband to grab another pan for me. He came running and quickly got another pan. I poured more into it, but the mixture still kept growing. We then called out for Mom to get another pan ready. She did---—four more times. We kind of felt like we were in an “I Love Lucy” episode. That recipe for one pan of Sponge Candy actually filled up six large baking pans.

It set up real well and was crunchy just like it was supposed to be. It did resemble a sponge, hence the name. I don’t know whether the soda was super-duper or whether the candy was just supposed to turn out that way, but we didn’t envision that much of it. It was tasty and my Dad loved it. He ate for days from that one batch.

Christmas Stress

I’ve been trying to get in the Christmas spirit for a month now. I just can’t. There’s a downer at every turn. I’ve played Christmas music non-stop. I’ve worn Christmasy clothes. Nothing helps.

In my mailbox this morning, I got a School Bus Emergency Evacuation Training meeting plopped right down on top of our annual Christmas party preparations. What is up with that? We start at 6:30. For those of us who are bringing food, 4:45 to 6:30 is not enough time to get ourselves and our food ready. Plus some of us have to decorate it.

I’m also worried about how I’m going to get everything done at Christmastime. Not getting out until December 21^st is a major stressor. I won’t have enough time to prepare my home--clean it and cook meals . Then, I must have all my Christmas shopping done (because we don’t get paid until the 21^st), wrapped, sorted, and delivered before Christmas Eve because on Christmas Eve, we start a 2-day celebration extravaganza with both sides of the family.

Imagine my frustration! I’m sure I’m not the only one. I know, I know, plan ahead. But, when I have a UIL meet and a shower on one weekend, going for an out-of-town visit another weekend, and having flare-ups in between, it’s hard to plan ahead with any confidence. On next year’s school calendar, I hope they look at giving us more time before Christmas Day. It will make the lives of those of us who prepare for Christmas’ much easier.

Thanks for letting me “vent”. Now with the weather colder, maybe Christmas Spirit will come knocking. I sure hope so. I miss him/her/it. Tomorrow will be a better day, surely.

In Our Home

We believe in living deeply,

laughing often and loving always.

We believe we were brought together

to support and care for each other.

We believe in celebrating together—our faith,

our heritage, our traditions.

We believe that everyone’s

feelings count and that the uniqueness

of each of us strengthens all of us.

We believe in the power

of forgiveness to heal

and in the power of love

to carry us through.

We believe in one another,

in this family, in this home.

Murphy's Law

Murphy’s Law. . . if anything can go wrong, it will. Sometimes I think that Murphy’s Law really does exist. Take Thanksgiving Day, for instance. Brit and I had prepared as much of the Thanksgiving meal ahead of time as we could. She had diced the onions and celery. I put the hen on to cook and baked the cornbread. The pies had been assembled. In fact, the only thing left to do was to bake the dressing.

I got up early and baked a pumpkin pie. Chad loves pumpkin pie. I noticed that the heating element in my oven was ablaze. I thought that something had probably been spilled on it and it was just burning off. Then, I noticed that the oven was losing heat. Hmmmm. Seems as if my oven had gone out. It was 10:00 a.m. Thanksgiving day.

Murphy’s Law? Yep. In force. So, I quickly thought of a plan B. I remembered a place where I could cook the dressing and one remaining pie and the yeast rolls all at one time.

By 1:00, Thanksgiving dinner was on the table. I had defeated Murphy’s Law. I never even entertained a negative thought. I always knew that things would work out perfectly. So, I think that the power of positive thinking trumps Murphy’s Law. Ha! Ha! Murphy, take your law and go.

Parenting

I used to think that raising “good” kids meant that they were sensitive, considerate, pleasant, responsible children who made good decisions. To some extent, that is true. However, society dictates that if we want them to be successful in sports and business, these qualities do not make them competitive which I learned is also very important.

Although I know people who possess those desirable qualities and who have also been successful in both athletics and business, it is not as common. Perhaps those successful people were not surrounded by negativity, but a more nurturing environment.

I may have done my children a disservice by teaching them to “turn the other cheek”. . . “grin and bear it”. . . “be nice, don’t be rude or spiteful”. . . “don’t talk back”. . . “be cooperative”. . . “don’t hit”. . . “say nice things or don’t say anything at all”. . . because those qualities were meant to make them congenial, but instead, it contributed to making their lives more difficult among their peers.

Maybe they became too sensitive. Their feelings get hurt. Maybe they are too considerate. They think about how others are affected by their actions. Maybe they are too pleasant. They typically flash broad smiles to people they meet and they converse affably. Maybe they are too responsible. They do what they say they will do when they say they will do it in the manner in which it should be done.

Naively, they expect those same things from other people.

Those qualities in young people are not found extensively today. Because they possess them, they sometimes don’t stand up for themselves and let others run over them. But if giving up those qualities means they can be successful in life, I’d not encourage them to relinquish them.

Having taught teens for nearly thirty years, I should have recognized that their generation is changing rapidly. Kids are no longer taught the old-fashioned values of integrity. Nowadays, kids will say and do just about anything. Adjustments probably should have been made, but just as they progressed through each stage of their lives, my husband and I were parents new to dealing with those stages so we had a learning curve as well.

As they have matured, they have learned life lessons about getting along in the world that I did not teach them. They were hard lessons, but necessary ones.

I still think that teaching them the right values was best because those are the ones they will hold dear as they leave adolescence and grow into adulthood.

Coon Dog Story

There was a time, long ago, when I was asked to do the impossible. The people-pleaser part of me wanted to comply. I made every effort. Try as I could, though, I could not keep Rick’s coon dog, Sandy, from killing that coon.

You see, I always tried to please Rick. I’ll never understand why. He tormented me, but I still would try.
He had this ’50 green Chevrolet step-side pickup. He built a little white platform cover for the bed out of boards. The cover only stood about an inch off of the bed and the siderails of the cover only extended upwards about two inches above the bottom of the cover. There wasn't much wood to keep things in place on the top of the bed cover.

For some reason, we were going to Lamkin to my grandmother’s house. It was about a five mile trip by dirt roads. Rick was driving, of course. He had a live coon that he wanted to take over to her house. I don’t remember why. He also wanted to take Sandy, his black and tan coon hound.

Instead of putting Sandy under the white cover into the bed of the pickup and closing the tailgate, he insisted that Sandy ride atop the white cover. He also put the coon on the top of the white cover. He was adamant that I sit slap dab in between the two and keep them apart.

He said, “Now, don’t you let Sandy get to that coon!”

Naively, I took hold of Sandy’s collar with my right hand and held him as best I could. He was a strong, muscular hound. I talked to him continually and told him to “Stay. Be still. Sit.” It was all I could do to hang on to him.

With my left hand and leg, I kept the coon at bay. Rick had him at the end of a long pole with a loop on the end. The loop went around the coon’s neck. I had to keep the pole with the coon on the end away from Sandy.

Although that may sound easy, it was not. A coon hound has only one instinct when it comes to a coon. That is to kill it. For more than four and a half miles of the five mile trip, I struggled feverishly to keep Sandy at the back of the white cover and the coon at the front.

About the time that we got to my great-grandmother Massingill’s old home place (about half a mile from grandmother Johnnie’s house), Sandy finally broke loose and took hold of that coon in his mouth. His powerful jaws crushed the life out of the coon. Blood squirted everywhere. It was all over me, the coon, Sandy, and the white cover of the pickup. It nearly made me sick.

I began to scream and cry. I pleaded with Rick not to be mad at me. I told him that I had done my very best, but that Sandy was too strong to keep away from the coon. I apologized profusely. Of course, Rick could not hide his amusement. He grinned and said, “Aw, that’s okay. He was gonna kill him after a while anyway.”

I was relieved that Rick was not mad at me. What I should have been was furious at him for putting me in that position knowing what was going to happen. Brothers!