Thursday, August 29, 2013

Something Papaw said.

Mama's Losin' It
Today, I am using Mama Kat's famous writing prompts to inspire me today. The prompt I chose...
#4 Something your grandfather told you.

 Okay, really Papaw sang this...
And the farmer hauled another load of hay.

When I read the prompt, this little diddy came to my mind. I don't know why. I am not even sure what wisdom, if any lies within these sung words. 

Perhaps, Papaw was warning me that sometimes working involves lots of mundane, do-the-same-thing, Groundhog Day tasks?

Maybe it was an attempt to instill work ethic? Sending subliminal messages that hard work pays off?
That if one grows hay, there will be hay to load?

It is possible that Papaw was promoting support for farmers. Farmers work hard, farmers feed us and farmers should be treated with respect.

Okay, am I stretching it a bit? It is just a song, right? He sang it a lot. The song has stuck in my mind for 35 years...somehow it has impacted me.  Papaw passed away on November 17, 1993. I think this song is just one of many wonderful quirks that keep his memory alive. 

Some other funny sayings from Papaw..."You mother-ape." -(used instead of the curse word), "Come on toots, be there." -(when he wanted a good card hand or roll of the dice), and "Master-burger." -(he meant to order the Whopper, but said this and totally confused the drive-thru cashier).

Last picture taken the summer before my Papaw passed away.

 I miss you Papaw!


Monday, August 26, 2013

WANTED: 50 and older because you ARE that important...

If you are 50 and older, I have to tell you how important you are to the world. To those of us currently without our grandparents or mothers (me) or we have a very strained relationship with our dad (me, again).

Perhaps, you don't desire to be a mother, grandparent, etc. to non-family around you, but before you hang up your hat on that, let me tell you how valuable you really are (not including how God sees you which you gotta ask him about that).

There are those of us that need, no-crave your wisdom, insight, affection, heck, even your attention. You possess a stability. Deep down, we know you didn't live the first 50 years without trials! Your strength from having made it through needs to be told. We need those stories of triumph and heartache to inspire and encourage us to keep going.

Most of you are parents and although we don't likely desire unsolicited advice on parenting, we still need your support, we desperately seek your understanding and yes, your free babysitting availability!

Some of us really love that you make getting older seem charming and less scary. When I look at how you handle gray hairs, a few extra pounds or pesky wrinkles-an awe escapes my lips and I breathe a bit easier. Getting old is not the end of life...
I've heard on more than one occasion from you, 
"I loved turning 50. I felt like my life was truly beginning."

I don't know what that means so I need you to explain it. And if your life is truly beginning-does that mean you stop being engaged or involved with youth? With young adults or a 39 year old like me?

Please tell me the answer is no! We need you! We need listen without judgement. To not talk down to us because we aren't where you are at and please don't dismiss us! Okay, some don't show you the respect you so deserve, but don't give up on us. We need your love.

Let me tell you how you impact the world with examples from my experiences...

1. She isn't my grandmother, but my Mamaw was her best friend. She is 80 something, her health is declining and yet, she still  traveled out of state to come meet my children! The gesture I type this, tears are hanging in my eyes. (Love. Sacrifice).

2. She sees me differently than I thought. She has taught for 25+ years. An amazing, wise, now retired teacher. She told me, "You taught me so much." Huh? How could I teach her? She showed me ways to improve my teaching...surely not the other way around? (Encouragement. Humility).

3. They treated me like their grandchild. They paid for my college bill so I could get a Masters in Education. THEY loved me and even when they had cancer...they asked about me! She stroked my head and hand despite suffering. In pain, she wasn't just thinking about herself.
(Love, truly selfless love. Mercy. Generosity).

4. When my mother died, they swooped in with hugs, open ears and they came to her funeral. They barely knew her. They let me cry even if it made them uncomfortable. They have prayed over me and for me. She has spoken scripture to me more than once. They are there for birthdays and just because moments too. They are amazing in-laws and wonderful grandparents to my children.
 (Hope, kindness, love, compassion, inspiration. Examples of godliness).

5. She is my best friend's mom, but she treats me like I am one of hers. She writes me letters. She tells me I am a good mom. She makes me laugh and she has seen me grow from an awkward middle- schooler to a woman. She loves me. (Acceptance, forgiveness, love and understanding).

6. My home wasn't always safe. Her home was. She offered it. She didn't ask for details or something in return...she just opened her door and heart. (Safety. Comfort. Refuge.).

 Did you catch how prevalent love was in my experiences? 
It is hard to put into words how much these people's actions both verbal or not have meant to me.

If you are 50 and older and reading this-get and stay involved. Know that what you are doing matters. Please serve. Whether that means doing something like vacation Bible school, or Sunday school, watching our kids for a day or more, caring for kids at MOPS, offering your home as a place of safety and refuge for those whose homes aren't safe and or simply just listening.

We need you...really we do! 
And...thank you!

Sharing this post over at Jen's wonderful blog,  Soli De Gloria

Friday, August 23, 2013

I love last

I've always been last since I was born last, but it wasn't a compliment or benefit in my family.

I was the one picked last for any sport because left-handed batters were a pain and playing sports for me was like asking a whale to walk on land. Not pretty.

Last to know, last to get it in math and last to look like a "woman" in high school. 

Perhaps this post doesn't sound like I love last. 
In reality, I'm rather fond of being last even though I have had plenty of firsts in my life too. It is a piece of who I am. Comfortable sometimes.  I wouldn't change my birth order or inability to hit a home run. I don't hide that higher math gives me a headache.
I love last because that is a piece of who I was made to be. 

Linking up with LisaJo at FMF...a place to write for five minutes freely! Join the party here
1. Write for 5 minutes flat – no editing, no over thinking, no backtracking.
2. Link back here and invite others to join in.
3. And then absolutely, no ifs, ands or buts about it, you need to visit the person who linked up before you & encourage them in their comments. Seriously. That is, like, the rule. And the fun. And the heart of this community..
- See more at:
1. Write for 5 minutes flat – no editing, no over thinking, no backtracking.
2. Link back here and invite others to join in.
3. And then absolutely, no ifs, ands or buts about it, you need to visit the person who linked up before you & encourage them in their comments. Seriously. That is, like, the rule. And the fun. And the heart of this community..
- See more at:
1. Write for 5 minutes flat – no editing, no over thinking, no backtracking.
2. Link back here and invite others to join in.
3. And then absolutely, no ifs, ands or buts about it, you need to visit the person who linked up before you & encourage them in their comments. Seriously. That is, like, the rule. And the fun. And the heart of this community..
- See more at:

Monday, August 19, 2013

What a beautiful mess I am...

I wrote this for my MOPS (Mothers of Preschoolers) group. It is a way to explain the theme of this year and is going in the first newsletter. I had to share what was on my heart...

Dear MOPS Moms,
Our theme, A Beautiful Mess-oh, I can certainly see my messes alright, but isn’t it stretching it a bit to call them beautiful? Doesn’t our theme ring oxymoron?  Can I get a witness?
How about an Mmmm-hmm?
 I mean, cleaning up my son’s potty training accident is anything, but pretty! My life appears more messy than gorgeous with never-ending piles of laundry or dishes, stacks of mail or paperwork to tend to, some kind of food that needs to be bought or chopped or cooked, and well this is only scratching the surface of outside messes. Lest I forget the inside me with untidy relationships, thoughts, and the need to permanently attach post-it notes to my body so my overloaded brain can remember the bazillion details swimming in my head. Not all that attractive, really, but God sees all of this differently! Okay, he isn’t blind to my messes, yet he knows that those messes aren’t the only pieces to who I am. They don’t tell the whole story of me. They just don’t define meHe does. In the bible, God tells me, “I am a masterpiece, created anew to do good works, which he planned for me long ago.” (Emphasis mine) Ephesians 2:10.
I struggle with that sometimes. Struggle to think of myself as a masterpiece because my human limitations tell me I am not good enough. Yet, no matter how crazy, chaotic or downright dirty my story or your story is God sees us as beautiful, God has a plan and if we are open to allowing some scrubbing away of the dirt-it will reveal the precious creation we are. Join me this year and let’s embrace our stain-covered manuscripts.

Part of a painting done with my children for MOPS called, Impression of Parenting. Notice the band-aid and REAL coffee drips and stains as well as the cute hand print.

Here's the full scale version of the painting...a mess alright!

Tell me about a time when you were in a mess and God          showed you the beauty. 
Linking up today with SDG. Go here to join the party! 

Thursday, August 8, 2013

Transitions and you are tired of the Borg...

This week is transition week in my home. No, summer is not over yet, but hubby's teacher duties resume. Kids come next week. I am alone with my boys again. This is fabulous and painful.
Painful because we miss hubby/daddy. Painful because even temporary transitions hurt. 
       We will get through it though. We will adjust, but hubs and I agreed that sometimes in life adjusting doesn't always mean it is what is best for you.

Hence, the Borg in my title.  
I have felt the tug of the world tempt me to assimilate, adjust...tell me, "resistance is futile"...but I have watched what assimilating is doing and it is damaging and I want no part of it.  
             At a park awhile back, I observed the Borg (half person/half machine)...people (organic) with their hand attached to a their phones (machine) instead of watching their child go down the slide with the biggest giggle. It is sad. I think we are headed to a place where phones will be inserted into us and we really will be the Borg!
            For a minute, I am going to throw a bit of a fit. When you are having a conversation with someone or eating at the dinner table-it is RUDE to check your text, or text! When you haven't seen someone for months, it is weird that you would pause in the middle of your activity to get on FB! Seriously? 

When did we decide that our phone was more important than people? 

Our phones don't really combat loneliness. It helps us connect easier, faster of course, but it never replaces the value of face to face relationships!

        I am NOT dissing technology because it is amazing and has a place in our lives. I have seen God use it for good, but here is where I choose to "unplug".
I read paper books.
I don't have or want internet on my phone.
I don't have cable or a 150 channels.
I don't plan to Twitter-EVER because I doubt anyone cares that much about the little details of my life.
Lastly, I will never text, or choose my phone over you...I have even decreased my blogging in the
name of relationships over social media.

Where do you unplug or would like to unplug?

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