JR and the Older People

I thought about not posting this, because I don't want to come across as making light or making fun of other people. Just know I am not trying to be offensive.

I go to the nursing home every Friday to hang out with the alzheimer residents.

Why?

Well I would like to think it's because I just want to be used by God.

But maybe it's just so that my friends and I will think I am a good person.

I struggled when JR asked if she could go with me a couple of weeks ago.

I was playing hymns that week and I thought about how she might get in the way.

I thought about germs.

I thought she would be afraid.

I thought about what I would do if she misbehaved in front of...well, then I thought maybe it wouldn't be so bad.

I brought her with me.

I explained to her that these people were older and they were all in wheelchairs (we call them magic chairs). I tried to describe what they might do or say that might be different than what she is used to.

I tried to help soften the shock that I felt the first day I walked in.

I shouldn't have worried.

The elderly lady who carries the baby dolls everywhere she goes is JR's hero

The woman who is on loud breathing machines didn't intimidate her.

At one point I watched JR walk hand-in-walker with a woman, down the hall chatting happily and completely content, while I was sitting on the edge of my chair, ready to jump up and snatch Jessie away in a moment.

She sat on the floor at my feet and played while I read the newspaper out loud.

She played the piano WITH me (confidently by the way). I had to ask her to stop.

In short, she was amazing.

I know she isn't coming because she wants other people to think she is a good person. She wants to be with me, loves the captive audience, and most importantly, doesn't see anything wrong or strange about being with people who don't make sense all of the time (she does live with me after all).

It was humbling, I thought she would see the hard parts.

Instead, she keeps asking when we can go back.

More Easter!

This is our Easter Advent set-up. Don't laugh, I didn't know there was a proper way to do this so we kind of made up some of it. I got the idea from Noel Piper's book Treasuring God in our Traditions. It has some wonderful ideas, some of which I have listed below. In case you have never heard of an Easter advent (I hadn't), I will tell you what we have done here. The Sunday before Lent is the starting date. Seven candles, seven weeks before Easter. All of the colors represent something pertaining to the resurrection. Each Sunday we light all of the candles and then we will blow out one for each week that has passed, talking about what the color represents. The gradually increasing darkness is the world without Christ. On the day of Easter, every candle will be lit, representing Christ's resurrection. Because we used things we had, it cost about $4. The most expensive thing was the black candle representing sin and darkness. (I should have known anything having to do with sin would cost me.)

(yeah. stupid joke. so what, it's my blahg)

Here are some of the other ideas Noel suggested:

1. A resurrection tree - get a branch from outside and hang on it things that remind you of the resurrection. A piece of white cloth, a cross, a rooster, a crown of thorns, a nail hung by a string, are all ideas that were listed in the book.

2. A cake on Easter made like a lamb. (I think this might be a little morbid though, to slice right into the lamb-of-God-our-perfect-sacrifice).

3. A tomb and hill made out of play dough and figurines to act out the events as they happened the week before the resurrection. Each day you can describe one thing that happened, then the last three days before Easter "Jesus" is in the tomb.

Jamie, thank you so much for the Resurrection Cookie recipe! I cannot wait to do that with the kids. I love that idea!

In Preparation For Easter

Telling tall tales and adventure stories comes as naturally as breathing in our house. My kids even start all their stories with "once upon a time".

Example:

JR: "Once upon a time, when I was a little girl I ran into a spaghetti forrest with noodle vines and toast walls. And there was a bread house!"

AJ: "Mom, Unce-a-time when I was a yittah boy, I saw a tigah! And he come an' bited my toes."

Stuart Little is our current read. When we sit down for breakfast, Jessie's first question for the past two weeks is always "Will you read more Stuart Little ?"

"Of course, my little darling!!!" I say cheerfully.

(Not really. I will say something like "Yeah sure, give me a minute. Be patient.")

I sit down and read until someone splats oatmeal on the page, loses interest, or, like today, AJ mashes his muffin to oblivion with his fists.

So, with all the story-telling in our home, I get pretty excited about holidays. I am especially excited about Easter.

I love Easter.

But it hit me today.

I can't let this be another story I tell the kids over the breakfast table. I want this one to be tangible, real and personal.

So

I am asking for ideas. Friends, would you mind telling me how you wade through all of the hype of bunnies and eggs to get to Jesus? How do you make it special and personal? I would love to hear your input.

Story Quilt

Hey, I made a quilt. It's pretty rough because I can't seem to follow a pattern (or a recipe for that matter) to save my life. But it was made out of lots of sentimental things. Will's Mamaw's dishtowels (vintage feedsacks) Some of the kid's baby clothes and my maternity clothes. I call it our story quilt. It sits in the living room so we can snuggle up under it when I read or tell a story. The kids have already identified their old clothes in the blanket and ask me to tell about when they were "little". Maybe this will be a way that I can hold on to old memories. Maybe it will be a way to make new memories too.

February 13, 2002

Eight years ago today my husband told me he liked me for the first time, with the understanding that I couldn't say whether I liked him back or not. It wasn't necessary that I liked him back, he explained. He just had to tell me the way that HE felt, out of obedience. I interrupted with, "WELL! I like you too!" Two and a half months later we were engaged. Seven months after that we were married.

When it's right, it's right!

I adore him.

Just thought I would throw that out there.

The rest of you can have February 14.

I'll take the 13th any day.

Old Books

I just assumed that any book from the 1940's would be okay to read. Surely there wouldn't be any curse words or violence, for goodness sake. I imagine black and white retro figures acting angry at the thought and saying, "Jeepers! That is not super swell." The men would be shocked and the women would faint.

I thought that era was safe, understandable, and clean.

Not so.

My little read from the 1940's contains racism, bad words, lust, murder, and gossipers.

I am so disappointed. Apparently pill box hats didn't deter women from being evil, and pants worn above the belly button didn't stop men from being jerks, it also didn't stop the author from adding words I don't know. So I had to look them up. (this doesn't make me a nerd, I think it makes me "trying not to look stupid") Here are the words I didn't know:

insouciance - lack of care or concern

vitriolic - caustic, scathing

ampule - sealed plastic or glass bulb containing solutions for hypodermic injection.

taciturn - inclined to silence, stern, quiet

declaim - to speak out in a oratorical manner, make a formal speech

And that is only up to page 35. I quit after that. I think I'll go back to "Good Wives" by Louisa May Alcott. Which, by the way, is definitely dated vernacular, but the content is very applicable to the modern wife, especially Meg's and Amy's experiences.

My husband is going to make so much fun of me for this post, but,

Sweetie, I am the woman I am because of "Little Women".

I learned That:

When you wear roller skates and allow the family poodle to pull you around the neighborhood by a leash tied tightly to your wrist, make sure there are no cats.

Baking soda is a great way to put out a fire in the kitchen, salt is good too. A dishtowel works in a pinch, but my mother with a pot lid is the best.

Cats cannot fly, no matter how many times you throw them off the front porch.

You cannot fly, no matter how many Wal-Mart sacks you use when you throw yourself off the front porch.

If you sew enough you'll get good at it - so not true. Quote from my Mom: "Hey Beth, please, sweetheart, after that skirt, don't make anymore for your sisters okay? They're not...moddest". I would have preferred "they're so...economical", but, whatever.

If a homeschooled boy comes up to you at the YMCA get-together and gives you a pot of honey that he harvested from his very own bees, it means he likes you. If he only tries to talk to you when he is wearing his snorkel, it might be time to give the honey back.

Just because you can balance a broom on your finger, doesn't mean you will be a hit at the talent show.

You can carry matches around to make a fire any time you might need one on the family camp out. Or. You can carry a lit candle around the whole weekend and burn your braid right off.

Cutting down a cactus with a three inch pocket knife, will not impress the boy you like.

West Texas

I seem to be missing my old friends. There is certainly something exciting about moving to a new place, meeting new people and finding kindred spirits, but today I miss the comfortable friendships from Texas. I love you, and hope you are doing well..

I see the rain a'comin' a mile ahead

With the lightning streaming like a golden thread

And the heat rises up from the rocks and the dirt

Like a sweet smelling woman in a twirling skirt

Mesmerizing me soothing my fears

While the rain falls so soft it's like tears

This is my home

This is my home

Any fool can visit

The wise will miss it

And it's home to me

There's a sweet wind whispering after the storm

And the earth is cold but the sun is warm

All the vast, empty spaces are filling my soul

They shatter my pride and swallow me whole

The night birds they sing me to bed

As the sleep-laden sun fades to red

This is my home

This is my home

Any fool can visit

The wise will miss it

But it's home to me

The stars are heavy with light

A gift for the travelers of night

Tomorrow I roam

But tonight I am home

Any fool can visit

The wise will miss it

And it's home to me

I'm the fool who visits

I am wise to miss it

And it's home

It's home to me

Haiti and my Boots

I wore my "Help Haiti" T-shirt to the mall the other day.

I overheard an interesting conversation between two people who read my shirt.

This saleswoman thought that the tragedy in Haiti was going to make people in America feel better about their lot in life. And because they felt better, they were going to spend more and therefore boost the economy. I listened condescendingly. How could they only think of how this awful event would affect them? I shook my head as I picked up a pair of $120 boots.

How short sighted they were.

How shallow.

Selfish.

I casually wondered how the boots would look with my new jeans...

Aaron Ivey and his wife Jamie just welcomed their son home from Haiti. Amos is a boy who they have been in the process of adopting for the past two years. Every other month one of them would fly to Haiti to visit with Amos and love on him.

Haiti is a very difficult country to adopt from. So they didn't know when they would be able to get their son. They were determined. Aaron even wrote an incredible song about the strength of his resolve to bring the boy home. It's beautiful. When the tragedy struck Haiti they were, in all probability, back to square one. But they were so hopeful. They were excited to speak out and take this oportunity to help others. When the earthquake shook Haiti, it should have shaken their hope.

But it didn't.

A few weeks ago they got a call.

In an incredible turn of events their son and 26 other orphans were being flown to Florida. They could pick him up Within 24 hours.

Amos is home.

Amen.

Something happened to me while I was holding those boots.

I. felt. ashamed.

I realized that the saleslady's self-centered opinion was no worse than my willingness to allow my t-shirt to be my voice AND my action.

I put down the boots and walked out of the store crying.

But where to start?

My sweet husband unknowingly answered this question.

He was helping my 2 year old get dressed in his "Help Haiti" t-shirt yesterday. I heard him say to AJ. "Okay, when you put this on, you remember to pray. Dear Jesus, help the little girls and boys who lost their homes and their families. Comfort them, keep them safe. Amen". His little voice echoed sweetly, the words that I should have been saying all along.

That is the place to start.

Then.

There are other ways.

www.aaronivey.com.

It tells the story of Amos, and also the story of Ronel (who just spent a week with his new father sleeping on the floor of the US Embassy in Haiti waiting to be released to his new home/family in America - they finally landed on US soil Thursday!). There are also ways to donate money on this website.

Don't get me wrong.

I don't think it's wrong to buy a pair of shoes. But if I need some in the future, I'll try TOMS (they are donating 30,000 pairs to Haiti in the month of February).

For now. I will just try to shod my feet with "the gospel of peace".

Jesus and Idols

Conversation Between me and my 4 year old:

JR: I want my life, I don't want to give it to Jesus. I want the glory.

Me: Okay. We can talk about that if you want to.

The next day

Me: Hey, I want to tell you something. I sometimes don't want to give the glory to God. But God is good. We are sinful. When we give the glory to God we give to someone who rescued us from sin. When we give the glory to ourselves then we are just giving glory to something that is sinful. Why wouldn't you want to give God the glory?

JR: Because I want the glory.

Me: We worship Jesus to give him glory. Do you want to be worshipped?

JR: Yeah. I want to be Jesus and I am mad.

Me: Why are you mad?

JR: Because I want a Jesus costume to wear when I get bigger.

Me: Hmmm. What happened to people who worship things that aren't Jesus?

JR: The people break down the idols.

Me: Yeah, are idols really God?

JR: No

Me: Do you think you are wanting to be an idol? You aren't Jesus and you are wanting the glory.

JR: Yeah, I want to be an idol. And I want to be angry.

Me: No you don't

JR: Yeah I do. Wellllll, no I don't. I don't want to be made of metal. What am I made of?

Me: flesh and bone.

JR: Oh. I was just kidding. I don't want the glory.

Haha!! Sooo, what the heck was that conversation about anyway? Whatever it was, I think I may have botched it...