A years of No Posts...

I have not written for a whole year! I know, why keep a blog? I was not done with it, but the past year (2016) and a half for our family has not been all easy breezy. I also needed a break from feeling pressured to just write anything so that others who so kindly read my ramblings would not quit my blog.

My dad had a stroke this June. My husband had an accident, surgery, tests and more surgery all in 2016.

It is easy to write when you are not distracted. Sure, I had material to write about, but I just couldn't do it.

My point is that I plan to return and write here again starting this August. I am in the process of considering making changes to the blog. Thank you if you have kept following me. I appreciate it more than words can express.

The Dinosaur...See it again Saturday

Welcome to see an old post/or photo again, Saturday! Enjoy below:

He decided to get into the picture!

Arrrrrrr!

Five-Minutes on She

On Fridays a bunch of brave writers gather at Lisa-Jo's blog to all spend 5 collective minutes writing on a single prompt.    Go here to join .







             The prompt? She.

Go!

She came from the same family as me, but she is different. Her story is different. Her choices and the words of hurt she heard.

I heard some of those stinging words said to her and I wish I could make dad take them back.

SHE still thinks those words are true of her, but they are not. God's words say something else. I say something else to encourage and speak love into her life. I hear it helping. She is in a terribly hard place where the man she married hurls hurtful words like dad at her and money is tight. She feels like there is no escape, yet she believes and clings to God's hope and redemption for her. 

It really is the best and worst place to be in life.

To be completely dependent on God because circumstances are impossible is where God wants her, but she is tired. I feel her exhaustion and sadness. And my merciful heart cries, "Abba, please."

I haven't seen her for over 5 years, but we talk and we write and we dream about a "safe" place to see each other again. And she ends our recent phone call sick, but with some laughter. 

SHE is being prayed for and whether she understands it fully, 

SHE is heard.

...The Lord has heard my cry for mercy; the Lord accepts my prayer.

Psalm 6: 6-9, Psalm 40:1 NIV

Something Papaw said.

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!

 

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?

What the current contents in my purse say about me...

I was in middle school when I carried my first purse. It was a neutral color with a long shoulder strap and not very big. I didn't carry much: a brush, mirror, coins because I rarely had any cash, Bubblicious Bubble gum (think 80's and blowing big bubbles) and a picture or two.

Ya know that joke where the older you get the bigger your purse gets? Well, in my case, it is more like the older I get the more stuff I haul around in my same-sized, medium purse! I just can't bring myself to buy a bigger purse. And so the purpose of my bag is no longer about feeling grown up or a fashion statement or to hold my driver's license and ya know, tampons. Yes, I used the "T" word.

The contents in my purse as I write this?...

The usual

A wallet, brush with hair-ties, keys, sunglasses, cell phone, a mirror, women stuff, receipts, and lip gloss.

The necessities when I launched my professional career

A pocket calendar, paper pad, pens, breath mints, Tylenol, hand sanitizer, oil blotting paper, lotion coupons/gift cards/ or point cards.

Surprise necessities...around 2007 

1. An Epi-pen for when a wasp or bee decides to sting me.

2. Powdered sunscreen or some organic kinds: My skin is allergic to something in most sunscreens available.

The I wouldn't have ever had this in my purse before kids contents:

     1. Crayons/Activity books-need I say more?

     2. Hand wipes (for sticky moments and the mysterious white crud around my kid's mouths). 

     3. Sugar packets...for those moments when an unhealthy need for a pick up arises, just kidding. The packets were actually for a cup of coffee I had and wanted to sugar it myself so it wasn't so sweet. They are still in there from a week ago.

     4. Tissue- snotty noses and boogers, of course.

     5. Band-Aides

     6. A pacifier (when they were younger) and now? A car or action figure!

     7. My kid's insurance cards/information for the doctor, etc.

     8. Snacks such as granola bars, bananas, or cheese sticks.

     9. Occasionally, a pair of socks, a diaper or gloves have taken a ride.

     10. A "Mona Lisa" flashlight. Yes, you read that right. I am artsy and it was a gift given to help me find items in my purse when it is dark and or to see the lock at my door when it is dark.

UM, now it is actually another toy to entertain the restless natives at the store.

So, as you can see, I am almost prepared for any kid-like or kid-inducing event! The days of the young woman trying to anticipate and be ready for the cute guy or to be efficient at work is long gone.  Enter the super-adapted momma...ready for gunk, stickiness, owies, germs, hubby's headaches, boredom, and hunger pangs. Ka-pow!

Okay, your turn...what do you have in your purse that well, you know you wouldn't have had even a year ago?

   

She taught me fear (FMF: Afraid)

She used to hide in the closet and wait for moments to scare me. It worked every time. My heart would palpate differently and for a minute the flight response was activated. I loathed these humorous moments for her as much as haunted houses. I didn't want to be afraid of either one, but how could I not? Someone or some thing lurking in shadows to entertain self or supposedly me.

She taught me to be afraid. Sometimes that saved my life, but I am not grateful. That fear tied to my worth and keeping my low self-esteem company. Manifesting into a me that didn't take risks or believe that I could do it. All lies. A generation passed on a lie in my heart.

Now, the self-confidence is stronger and my risks are ever widening, but I face a new kind of fear. Fear of success. What if all my risk-taking and striving actually works?

They still won't celebrate me. They are toxic and I am afraid to truly let them go. But I am wondering why I hang on.

And the devious side (although I am still afraid) wants to tell them what I really think...to say, "It's not me, it's you...

Linking up for 5 minutes of real, not perfect writing at Tales from a Gypsy Mama

Motherless Mothering

I wrote this awhile back, but never posted it. For some reason, it seems appropriate and feels right to post it today.

In 2006, I became a motherless mother.  After eleven months of trying and five months after my mom’s death, I became pregnant for the first time. Thoughts of “She won’t get to meet him” or “I know what she would say,” “My baby is having a baby” became my soundtrack for those 9 months.

That same year I lost 3 other family members to cancer (one being my maternal grandmother). Crushing sorrow, disbelief and a firm, “why?” consumed my mind and heart. Then, the Lord gently guided me to Lamentations 3:19-26 (not my first choice in bible reading), “Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail…” I’ll admit that a part of me wanted to be angry and not accept the truth in these verses, but those words lavished mercy and comfort to my soul. God was reaching down to my sorrow. I knew at that moment that I was not alone in my pain. The Lord was carrying me and He had plans to use this time of bereavement for His purposes.   

I know now that God’s will for me was to be pregnant after 2006.  He knew the devastation that I would feel after those losses and I believe He was protecting my son and me. I don’t think carrying a child at the time would have been wise.  He knew when He would give me a child (a son). It was a lesson in faith, trust and belief.  Believing that He was with me in my grief, holding onto faith even if I never bore a child, and trusting that He would guide me in my motherless mothering.  

I often crave the opportunity to see my mother’s reactions to my parenting and to my children’s antics.  I have inherited her humor and compassion so I daily act on those qualities. The choice to do this has not only benefited my family, but has created a path to my healing; a means of celebrating my mother. 

My utmost struggle has been and probably always will be not having her presence in the moments I want it most: seeing her joy during the births of my sons, asking her advice on parenting, watching my children graduate high school and or college and get married.

5 years and a second son later, my mother’s death still brings sadness to my heart, but the Lord has been healing me as I move forward in my grief. My children are not meant to replace my mother, yet their lives honor her. Reminding me of how much of a blessing it is to be a mom. I am a motherless mother, but I got to have my mom in my life for 32 years and that is something to be thankful for.

We had to have a piece of fall

We drive the 45 minute trip so we can see a bit of fall.  We really have no idea what awaits us up in the Mesa Mountains. And then...we see them. All of them. The blazing yellows of the Aspen trees.

We are hypnotized by the swaying of their brilliant, gold fire.  We intend on capturing these beauties with our camera, but even a professional's touch can't do justice to what you must see in person.

(please do not use photo without permission)

This mommy HAS to have a family picture! Has to put four souls together with a piece of fall near them.

Later, we had hot chocolate and played by one of the many lakes that exist in this beautiful place.

linking up with the SITS girls @ falling back into blogging challenge http://www.thesitsgirls.com/community/challenges/back-to-blogging-day-3/

In memory of my Mommy...

I am not sure if what I write today will do justice to my mom. That it will really tell her story, but well I am gonna give it a go and see where it takes me. Meet my mom, Debra "DeLynn" Whalin:

Feb. 2, 1952-Oct. 29, 2006

This is how I remember her: 

My mom was a woman who cleaned with bleach. The windows opened and Barbara Streisand or Ann Murray or the Beatles played while she made the place sparkle. She loved music and it seemed to define her, speak for her, encourage her and give her energy. Although she never played an instrument, she could sing on key. Before she passed away she was listening to The Fray, and John Maher.  A woman open to all kinds of music. 

Even more, she was a DANCER. Not the professional kind, but had quick feet and style. 

My mom never went to college or really had an established career, but she could whip your tail in crossword puzzles, well, puzzles in general. An amazing speller and a quick learner. 

She was a sassy, high-cheek boned tomboy. A lover of fishing, camping and playing horseshoes. She could be quite competitive and was a practical joker. Her favorite holiday was Halloween and a chance to scare someone was her thing.

Playing horseshoes July 2006

    

She could make a pot of beans taste gourmet and brew the best sweet, iced tea. Thanksgiving in our house consisted of stuffing ourselves with her infamous southern dressing (stuffing to northern folk). In other words, she was a fabulous cook. Her creatively decorated cakes were special and magical to my siblings and I when we were kids. You should have seen the Dukes of Hazard Cake for my brother. Yes, I just dated myself a bit.

My favorite thing about my mom was her sense of humor. I think that was her biggest secret to getting through the tough trials of life. Oh, her laugh...when she laughed it sounded like a repeated, precious hiccup. We were a great team this way because I could always see the funny in the situations that she saw and we would laugh together.

I always loved holding her hand and the feeling was mutual. She was one of my greatest cheerleaders when it really mattered. Like the day I became a teacher. She always respected that career and encouraged me to do it. She always told me I was pretty. 

How she said my name..."Dyon." The correct way. Sometimes she would say "Dee" as a shortened version. I just wish I could hear that today.

The way she looked at me while I was in my wedding dress is my greatest memory. In that moment, I knew how she really felt about me. Who I was to her. How proud she was of me. I am so glad she was there for that special day.

LAST PICTURE TAKEN WITH HER THE SUMMER BEFORE SHE DIED July 2006

  
I am a motherless daughter/mother who at least knew my mother and I thank the Lord that I had her for 32 years. 

Happy Mother's Day mommy.


 

"Mamaw" was A PowderPuff Derby Racer

          Mamaw (pronounced maa-maw) was a Texas woman. A "Wampus Kitty" according to Papaw.  Meaning she was fiesty and could hold her own if she had too. My grandma, Frances L. Gibson (Whalin was her maiden name) was as homegrown as they get and yet earned the nickname, "Fancy Frances" because she wanted to live and look like the city gals and so she did. 
Her purse and shoes always matched her outfit. She had more shoes than my whole household. From head to toe she was a looker. And she NEVER and I mean NEVER left the house without red lipstick painted on her lips.

Beautiful Frances L. Gibson (Whalin). Born in 1929. Married to Edwin Whalin and my Mamaw.

She grew up on a farm, knew how to chase a chicken down and pluck it for the night's meal. She could filet a fish, cook Brisket to perfection, sew any button, darn a sock and prepare homemade Buttermilk Biscuits in her sleep. Her sausage gravy was divine. Heart attack on a plate divine. 

Okay, now she sounds like a Tall-Tale.

BUT...

In my young mind, she was fascinating. She was magical and seemed to do impossible feats. 

There is one thing, one story I found out about her that truly shocked me. Actually, I have to say there are probably still stories of her I don't know because she lived such a rich life. Without further ado... 

 Mamaw raced in the PowderPuff Derby with the "Texas Tornado" Jalopi racing car.

This is the Texas Tornado that the Whalin family owned and the one my Mamaw raced.

That's right. My spunky, feminine grandma took this car and raced it. Helmet and all. I found out that she ended up crashing the car in the derby. I still have a hard time picturing her racing!

In September of 2006, my precious Mamaw passed away after a battle with lung cancer. My heart aches. I miss her still. As it goes, I took her for granted and only wish I had more time with her. She was wonderful and I am so glad she was my grandmother.

  

An ordinary day...

An ordinary day in photos...From:

So my day starts by 6 am...I'd rather be sleeping...

Breakfast can look like this or...

look like this...usually it looks like this.

Some days I can get a good workout in before the days' festivities begin...

Or read or study God's word.  

IF ANY OF THE ABOVE goes smoothly...well, than this is a good day. :)

The children always have time for playing and that is their main goal!

At some point, there's often a need to have to wrestle and haul the kids to the car for the plethora of errands to be fulfilled. ("Hey, you are NOT old enough to drive yet. Look, your feet don't even touch the pedals.")

OKAY...I don't exaggerate...this is how overwhelming a typical day can feel. Think 3 minute showers, NEVER-ending laundry (sung to the tune of Never-ending Story),  consistent, repetitive statements such as, "No, don't touch that, hitting hurts, uh-oh. You have to have a time out. Please pick up your toys, only food, drinks and toothbrushes go in your mouth." Truth is sometimes I think my kids believe that the T-Rex ate up mommy for the day and watch out cause being baby-sat by a T-Rex can be hairy.

When Dad (mi esposo-) arrives home, he can find us outside if the weather is warm enough.

Sweet hubby helps with dinner or left-overs or even serves up the pizza.

So after dinner is usually baths, bedtime stories, possible playing in the dark with flashlights, and many hugs and kisses. If it is 7:30 pm and hubby and I are looking like this, (usually propped up by the couch and vegging to a movie or something) well you can bet it has been a typical, ordinary day in the Adkison house.

Connected

I have a bunch of disconnected fruit in my fridge. They were all picked off their bush or tree where they once enjoyed the company of similar fruit friends.

As I relish in their sweetness, mouthful after mouthful, I don't feel guilty that they will no longer exist after my family and I have devoured them. Thank goodness fruit doesn't have feelings!

But...I do.
I am fully stocked with feelings, thoughts, ideas, well you get the picture.

I need to be connected...daily. I am not numb when plucked away from others (even if by choices for jobs, etc.).

I have many long distant relationships now and it amazes me at how hard it is to stay connected to those whom I hold dear.

Anyone else wish they had their own jet plane?

I miss my best friend. I miss my brother. I miss my friends in Ft. Collins. I try to write, text, email, call, and do Facebook, but it just isn't the same as seeing them regularly face to face.

ONE week without communication with them makes me feel more distant from them. It is like leading a double life where I am one way when they are in it and another when they are not.

I possess another relationship which needs consistent contact and that changes me whether I am in it or not:

My relationship with God.

If I spend even a few days without Him, I encounter a lack of peace, emptiness, and that gnawing sense that something is missing. I am grumpier, more impatient, more insecure, even hopeless at times.

I just don't function correctly without staying connected to the ONLY source that brings me true satisfaction...sustaining, lasting peace.

John 15:7 (NLT) says, "Remain in me and I will remain in you..." and John 14:27 (NLT) says,"Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives..."

The more I know Him, the more I feel amalgamated to Him. I experience His peace more often.

I am just restless by nature. My heart won't sit still.
I yearn for others to know how important they are to me.
BUT...Our busy lives get in the way!

Thank goodness the Lord is always available. I don't have to work around His schedule. Too bad He gets misplaced by mine.

So to those present relationships (and you know who you are), I miss you. My heart aches when I haven't been around you, talked with you or shared my life with you.

A spoonful of courage to write this now

I love this time of year. Really, what's not to like?

Okay, not everyone has the perfect situation, family, or wealth to make this a "Pottery Barn" extravaganza. However, isn't it all in your head or heart?

I feel like this time of year brings out the worst and best of me.

I give more, I dwell in the past more, I cherish more, want more (greedy girl), and I have more gratitude for what I do possess.

Why am I like a good and evil twin all wrapped up? (sorry for the pun).

Is it the pressure of the holiday? Is it the expectations? The need to bake perfectly frosted cookies?

The fact that I know I am present wrapping challenged?

(I seriously cannot keep the paper tight and unwrinkled)

Although, I am sure some of those reasons affect my psyche in a harmful way...well, a lot of it is just plain silly...not worth getting all worked up about it.

BUT...

This year is different. I actually faced a few pieces of the problems that have been causing me anxiety and bringing out some of my ugly side.

I am lonely. I need connections that don't happen in 4 months. I need patience. I have friends. They just don't live in the same town. I am also full of what if's and how comes?

It is my relationship with my father.

All of my life I have felt invisible when I am around my father. I can be in the same room as him and still feel like a ghost. It injures self-worth.

How does one person have so much power over me?

I am no perfect daughter. There's no such thing as a flawless father.

All I really want my dad to do is be interested in me. Like me. Notice how different I am now as a 30 something adult. I want him to be in love with his grandchildren.

I have forgiven him. I just want a relationship. A child shouldn't have to beg for a relationship. Is our relationship that indispensable to him?

He is my only remaining parent on earth. I don't want to feel like an orphan.

I have tried everything. Kindness, space, forgiveness, amends, respect, pictures, cards, phone calls. All in vain. I have OFFICIALLY moved to the label of a stalker.

God says to honor thy mother and father. Is it more honoring to leave him be?

Should I quit? Give up? Let it go?

I haven't made my decision yet. I should probably ask a counselor their thoughts...?