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!