Category Archives: family

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A New Year

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A new year. A new start. Well, sort of. It’s still the same life, the same job, the same issues. There’s nothing magic about January 1. But, it’s a starting point to think about changes. And a time to look back.

I saw “The Secret Life of Walter Mitty” yesterday. It was a good movie. I left the theater thinking about the past: my kids past. In the movie, Walter’s life was altered by the death of his father. Dreams and adventures were set aside so he could be responsible. Through most of the movie I kept wondering what dreams my son pushed aside after his dad died.

I’ve watched Zac’s struggle with teenage dreams and adult responsibility. I’m very proud of the young man he has become. But I wonder where he would be if he still had his dad’s encouragement and leadership. Yes, I’m having some
‘what if’ and ‘if only’ moments.

I can’t change the past. And worrying about it isn’t an option either. I’ve shed tears over what will never be. I hope and pray that, like Walter Mitty, Zac realizes his dreams and understands how important he is to the people around him.

Happy New Year!

“Forget about what’s happened; don’t keep going over old history. Be alert, be present. I’m about to do something brand-new. It’s bursting out! Don’t you see it? (Isaiah 43:18/19 MSG)

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Graduation

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Tomorrow night it happens. The moment she’s been working toward since kindergarten. My daughter graduates from Sam Houston State University with a degree in Math Education. I am so very proud of her. And I find it hard to believe that she’s really graduating and will be teaching after the holidays.

It was just yesterday that I brought her home from the hospital. I can still picture the 2-year-old red-head that cried when I dropped her off at the daycare. As a first grader, she reminded her teacher of a smurf with her long red hair and bright blue dress. I remember the excitement when she was selected for the Katy ISD Children’s Honor Choir in elementary school and her first band concert in junior high. Her Dad would ooh and ah over how well she played the marimba during the fall marching season her freshman year. She was all girl and had her daddy wrapped around her little finger. The vision of the young woman who refused to cry at her Daddy’s funeral because she wanted to be strong for me is forever etched in my memories.

Gracie has never shied away from anything. She was a percussionist in the Gold medal drum line, a volley ball player, a basketball player, a state ranked wrestler and a singer. She’s stubborn, determined, bossy, organized, funny, beautiful and a blessing in my life. I am excited about her future and where she will go with her life.

Tomorrow, we will celebrate Gracie and her accomplishments. For the second time, I will stand alone and watch her walk across the stage to accept a diploma and wish that her dad was standing with me. I’ll smile and laugh and probably cry a little. Tomorrow, Gracie Graduates.

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Five Minute Friday – Tree

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Featured Five Minute Friday:
Here’s the deal. Five Minute Friday. You go find the little prompt at the wonderful Lisa-Jo’s blog, set the time and write for five minutes, and then just stop. Where you are, no edits, just publish raw words.

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..

OK, are you ready? Please give us your best five minutes on the word:::

Tree

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Trees.  Strong and tall, steady and dependable. I grew up in North Central Texas.  There weren’t many trees in that area.  We had pecan, mulberry and a few others, but mostly we had mesquite and juniper bushes.  My heart still warms at the sight of a pasture full of red dirt breaks and mesquite bushes.  That’s home to me.  My dad’s favorite tree was a Crepe Myrtle.  His mother had planted it when he was a boy,  It grew to be over 10 feet tall and in the summer would be covered with beautiful hot pink flowers.  After Daddy had his stroke, he would sit in the back yard and look at that tree.  Whenever we would come into the back yard with him, he would point at it and say “Good, good, good!”

My family tree is made up of lots of different branches much like the mesquite.  Strong and protecting with broad limbs and those long thorns, the mesquite was vital to the survival of early settlers.  My family provides the roots and the strength that I need to survive.  My tree has also been grafted with beautiful crepe myrtle branches, the family of my heart. My heart family is precious and special and important.  They have been there when I didn’t know I needed them.  They love me often in spite of myself.  And I love them as one can only love family.  There aren’t many in my heart family and I treasure those that have taken hold in my life.  So when  I look at my family tree with its’ thorns and flowers,   I say “Good, good, good!”

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Blessed

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Reading through the last month of posts, one would get the idea that I’m an unhappy person. I’m not. Most of the time. I am truly blessed. I don’t live a charmed life where everything is wonderful and rosy, but I have received more than my share of blessings. Sometimes, I let the sadness creep in and forget everything else.

I have a wonderful family. My parents loved me and were always supportive of anything I wanted to do. I was blessed to have my dad around until about 6 months ago and he just missed celebrating 55 years of marriage with my mom. I thought everyone grew up with a family similar to mine. We were the norm. And then, I went off to college. That’s when the reality of divorce and blended families came into my life. I was an adult before I was aware that not everyone liked their families or were even welcomed by them. It astounded me that parents could just cut their children from their lives for any reason. When I married, I became painfully aware of what it meant to be part of a dysfunctional family. So, I am very grateful for the blessing of my mom and dad and brother and sister. I was blessed.

By the time I reached my late twenties, I had decided that marriage was not to be part of my life. I was making plans to go to seminary and move on with my life. And then Terry made an entrance. I had met him a few years earlier when he served as interim Youth Minister at my church. I was interested in getting to know him, but he didn’t return the interest. Three years later, he once again stepped into the interim youth position. This time, I was determined to ignore him completely. I had other interests. Then one day, I realized how childish I was being. We were married seven months later. It wasn’t always easy sailing. We had some rough patches. And, through the years, I learned to appreciate Terry’s quirky sense of humor. I let go of my expectations and embraced what was real. Terry truly became my best friend. We talked and laughed and cried. We raised two kids together and lived vicariously through them. Life was messy and busy and hectic and wonderful. We were blessed.

And just as quickly as we started our life together, it was over. Terry died from complications of pneumonia and I believed everything else died with him. I didn’t understand how the world could keep spinning. I resented other couples. I resented happiness. I begged for all of the pain to end. I was angry and hurt and confused. And, God never left me. Even when I couldn’t feel it, there was hope. I had friends that came along side me during the darkest days and carried me. When I couldn’t remember how to breathe, someone was always there to remind me. My son and my daughter were often my only reason for getting up in the morning. We grew closer because of our grief. And even in the pain, we were blessed.

As I have learned to live again these past eight years, I try to remember the lessons I’ve learned. I try not to put off telling those around me that they are important to me. I say “I love you!” whenever I can to my kids and to my dearest friends. Because I am acutely aware of the loss of my best friend, I’ve learned to truly treasure my closest friends. BFF is a term that is bandied about way too much, but I have learned the value of that Best Friend. I’ve been told that I’m a bit obsessive about my friends. And maybe I am. But, I never want to miss the chance to share the blessings of friendship and love. I don’t know how many days I have and I want to make the most of the blessings that God has give me. I want to show love quickly and passionately. I want to spoil and pamper those that I love. I’ve lived a life of “wait until later” and later will never come for us. I don’t want to waste another moment. I am blessed.

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Confession

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I have a confession: I’m not crazy about life. In fact, I don’t like it much at all. And, I feel guilty admitting this. I have been given so much in this life. I had 18 years in a wonderful marriage to a man who loved me to his last breath. I have two fantastic kids, a great family and friends that knock it out of the park. I have a home and a good job and I get to serve and worship with some wonderful people throughout the week. I should be enjoying it everyday. But, I’m ready to resign!

Behind every ray of sunshine, there seems to be a dark cloud. I get something repaired and something else breaks. I’ve never been very good at criticism (taking it, handing it out is a breeze) and that’s all I hear: I’m too mean. Or, I’m not taking a stand. I’m too involved. Then, I’m not showing enough interest. My body is revolting against me. I need to get more exercise and get the endorphins pumping, but my knee or my back or my hip or my sinus’ keep me inside. Some days the only thing I do well is stand in the middle of the living room and cry. And I’m tired of crying.

So, I remind myself of the blessings I have and hold on to the hope that “this too will pass.” I look forward to better days and until then will paste on a happy face and pretend. Maybe my brain will start to believe. I’ll try to be a little less sensitive and remember that stuff happens.

There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens:
a time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot,
a time to kill and a time to heal, a time to tear down and a time to build,
a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance,
a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them, a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing,
a time to search and a time to give up, a time to keep and a time to throw away,
a time to tear and a time to mend, a time to be silent and a time to speak,
a time to love and a time to hate, a time for war and a time for peace.

What do workers gain from their toil? I have seen the burden God has laid on the human race. He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the human heart; yet[a] no one can fathom what God has done from beginning to end. I know that there is nothing better for people than to be happy and to do good while they live. That each of them may eat and drink, and find satisfaction in all their toil—this is the gift of God. I know that everything God does will endure forever; nothing can be added to it and nothing taken from it. God does it so that people will fear him.
Ecclesiastes 3:1-14 NIV

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Graduation

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My youngest child got the information on her college graduation today. It’s time to order the cap and gown, the tassel, the cord & the announcements. We’ve already scheduled her photo session to capture her senior picture. By Christmas Day, I will have completed a journey that began 24 years ago: my children are adults and no longer need a mom looking after them. How do I successfully push the youngest chick out of the nest when that chick feels responsible for taking care of me? What changes do I have to make to convince her to trust her own wings and live her own life? And then what?

My husband and I had talked about this time in our lives and what we would do with the next phase. Terry had dreams of riding motorcycles across the country, just the two of us. He talked of living in a smaller town and moving at a slower pace. I wasn’t particularly interested in the motorcycle part, but that’s not really relevant any longer. I moved to Houston right after I graduated from college and never intended to stay more than a few years. Is it time to move on? Since my kids are quite content to remain here, am I the one that needs to fly the coop? Do I really have any reason to stay?

I’ve always believed that God has called me to serve others. Supporting Terry in his ministry fit my own calling like a glove. I’ve filled various positions of service since his death, but I’m still searching for a true fit. Recently, a couple I’ve known from my single days sold everything and moved to Kenya to serve in the mission field. Am I brave enough to give up everything for a new life? I don’t know. It’s easy to just rock along with the status quo. But easy isn’t always best.

I think that I just long to go home. And home is not in this world. So, until that time when I’m called to my eternal home, I’ll keep searching for where I can best serve. It may be right here where I am. Or, it may be time to go back to north Texas. I will continue to put out feelers and look for options. I’m not done yet.

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All that (and a bag of chips)

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There are two men in my life that I knew loved me completely and unconditionally. And on this day, twenty-six years ago, one of them walked me down the aisle at Spring Woods Baptist Church to marry the other. Daddy assured me that it wasn’t too late to call the whole thing off and offered to take me out the back door of the church as Terry waited nervously at the front of the church wondering if Daddy would REALLY give me away. Every girl should be so blessed and so loved.

They’re both gone, now. I miss them both. I wonder how many others have been “all that (and a bag of chips)” to another person. I got to experience that feeling twice. I have been truly blessed in my life. I look forward to seeing them again in Heaven.

So, Happy anniversary, Terry. I miss you. Every. Day.

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