Continuation of Yesterday

It has been snowing since 8:30am.  Ohio is pretty much getting dumped on. This makes us day 5 of being inside. Together. All of us. Amen.

Besides the fact that I have all but lost any trace of sanity, I am doing okay on this nature imposed hibernation. Well, husband and I did get out for a very brief time yesterday afternoon. I told him that another big snow was on the way and we NEEDED MILK!!!!  While at our local grocery store we picked up a few other essentials……I mean after all a family needs some ice cream in the middle of a snowstorm. I told you I have a thing about dairy. Hey, I’ll get my dairy how I want, you get it how you want…..

Our mailbox is toast. Remember in yesterday’s blog I mentioned the snow plow dilemma? Our mailbox now is leaning to one side. It is bent AND the door will not close. I know this because when getting the mail yesterday I attempted to beat it back into shape. It didn’t work…and if the neighbors saw me they probably think I am nuts. Doesn’t everyone go out and attack their mailbox? Am I really all that weird?  Stop laughing. I was TRYING to fix it.  I guess we’ve officially joined the local chapter of the WINTER MAILBOXES OF RURAL AMERICA CLUB.

That my friends is how my day is going, how about yours?

Living In La La Land

The dog ate all the cats’ food. Furry thief. He is currently in the cat bed. He has his own place, but seems to like the cat bed better. Whatever. Maybe he is confused. He fits right in around here.

We only have 3/4 of a gallon of milk left and it is supposed to snow again tonight and tomorrow and Wednesday. We need milk. It’s a thing with me. If we have milk all will be okay. We can be snowbound. If we don’t have milk, well, we might not make it. Just sayin’. I can see the newspaper story now. FAMILY OF FIVE FOUND AFTER SPRING THAW. LACK OF DAIRY WAS TO BLAME FOR THEIR UNTIMELY DEMISE. LAST WORDS FROM MOTHER SCRAWLED ON A NAPKIN….” I KNEW WE SHOULD HAVE GOTTEN MORE MILK. PREFERABLY 2%.”

This morning the sun is streaming in through the kitchen windows. The snow piled up outside looks as if it has a million diamonds in it. On that subject let me just say that black granite counter tops are gorgeous UNTIL the sun shines in across them and one sees every speck of dust known to mankind. Black appliances and counters, one would think, would HIDE dust and dirt. Um…..no. Trust me on this one.  Unfortunately for me, ,I am just obsessive compulsive enough that I feel the need to wipe everything down. Just because. Not that it won’t look exactly the same by this time tomorrow morning–alas, this is how dust works. UGH.

Since we home school, the kids are still “in class” today. Even though they don’t think it’s fair that the public school is out due to massive amounts of snow and they aren’t.  Oh, well. Don’t feel sorry for them. They have plenty of perks that go along with home schooling, they just want something to gripe about. It’s a teenager thing…. and they do it well. I FIND MYSELF WANTING TO SAY, “WHEN I WAS IN SCHOOL…….” GOOD GRIEF. I SOUND OLD. GREAT. WHEN DID THAT HAPPEN?

I am in my own mood this morning. I am not my usual perky, morning self. (in a house full of NOT perky morning people) Do you ever have days where everything is getting on your last nerve? Well….it is one of those days. WARNING. WARNING. EVACUATE IMMEDIATELY.

I just heard scraping out on the road. It’s the snow plow. Probably plowing our driveway shut. Again. Oh no. This time the snow avalanche hit our mailbox and popped the door of the mailbox open. Great. So now snow can get in and make our mail nice and wet. Lovely. At least our mailbox is still in one piece. Living out here in rural America one sees a lot of mailboxes that have seen the bad end of a snow plow. My friend, who grew up here, informed me that winter mailboxes are attached to the post with a myriad number of things. Duct tape, bungee cords, an old belt….whatever one can find to hold the mailbox together. After all, who wants to spend money on a new mailbox if the plow is just going to destroy it again? Makes sense to me. Our mailbox used to have a fancy piece on top, that had our family name on it. It lasted all of 2 seconds. We found it laying in the ditch last winter. A victim of the plow.

I guess my readers can already “see” what kind of day this is going to be at my house. Thanks for listening as I vented. I feel a little bit better.

I suppose I should go feed the cats…….

A Make Believe Life

I thought this article was too good not to be sent on. Readers may agree or disagree….that is the great thing about our country.

You Are Being Watched

The title of my blog today is not to scare anyone. Don’t worry. I am not a stalker….but, I am a people  watcher and a keen observer of human nature. I have been for most of my life. Not professionally mind you, but just because I’m drawn to people and their motives behind the behavior.  I am the one that is always asking, “Why would he do that?” or “What is she thinking?”

Yesterday I had some interesting experiences pertaining to being a people watcher. Many of you know that I have been in a 6 week long term subbing gig at the local middle school. The regular teacher is out on maternity leave and I am filling in while she is gone. Now, I could write an entire book on the motives and actions of middle schoolers. Some of the chapters could get fairly dicey so I will just suffice to say that they are a mess. The middle school years are difficult, with a lot of changes going on, none of which the children themselves understand. Thus, I am left with a confused bunch of 11,12 and 13 year olds.

My first class of the day is an unruly bunch of eighth graders. I will admit that they have tried my patience more than once. Yesterday in class we played a Jeopardy-style game using questions from the story we had just read. The game was being used as a study tool, in preparation for an upcoming test. The class was divided into teams. Many of the students laughed at the first group, calling the members of that team “stupid”. “You’ll  never win.” (the cruelty of this age group is a whole different issue—one that I struggle with. Why they feel the need to hurt their fellow classmates is difficult to comprehend. We have had MANY conversations in the classroom about this subject….) Anyway, the kids loved the game and I was pleased that they knew so much of the material.  Even better was the fact that the group that was called “stupid”, were the ones to win. Not only that, they won by a landslide. That was great, I was cheering for them….but, that is not the human nature side of this story. After class two of the boys on that team asked if they could talk with me. I said, “sure”. After everyone left they told me that they really do listen in class and that they did a good job, right? They are not stupid. “When they called us stupid, it made me want to win! I wanted to show them! We kicked their tail, didn’t we Mrs. G.? ” I told them, “You sure did. You should be proud of yourselves. I’m proud of you. I’m very impressed with how much you knew. Great job!” They left the classroom feeling like they could take on the world.

Wow. I felt a lot of things after talking with those students. My heart broke because I don’t like any child to think that they are stupid, or somehow feel like they are less because things don’t come as easily to them as they do to others.On the other hand, I felt happy for them because they had a renewed confidence in their abilities. They had proven themselves. Sure, it was just a game in an eighth grade classroom…but at that moment it might as well have been the Olympics. The human spirit prevailed against the odds.

The next event occurred later that evening, at McDonalds.  Now, you might not think of this particular restaurant as being a human behavior lab, but you would be wrong. This place is a human petri dish for observing human behavior. I could write an entire thesis on how people interact at Mickey D’s. Last evening my husband, oldest son, and I were enjoying (?) dinner at this establishment. We were half way through our burgers and fries, when an elderly lady (whom I had been casually observing eating alone near a window seat) slowly walked over to our table. She was smiling at us as she moved toward us. My initial thought was that she was needing our assistance for something, and we would have gladly obliged to help her. I was wrong. She wanted to tell us some jokes. No we had never seen her before……and she appeared to be fine mentally. She had seen us sitting there and wanted to share with us. She informed us before telling us that all her jokes are funny and not dirty, because she does not tell THOSE type of jokes. (“What did the plow say to the tractor?” Pull me closer, John Deere (dear).  Cute, huh? ) She told us three jokes and gave my son and I a hug, we thanked her for picking us to share with…..and then she was gone. Just like that. I watched her leave, as she struggled to walk out to her car, and then drove away. I wondered where she was headed? Home? Walmart? Does she talk to strangers often? Maybe her only intent was to spread some cheer to others, in the hope of brightening their day. I don’t know.  I wish I would have gotten her name. I could have kicked myself for not finding out more about her. If I ever see her at McDonald’s again, I’m going to tell her that she made me smile and I appreciated it. It wasn’t a huge event, it only was a few minutes, but she made a difference. What causes a person to want to reach out to others? To touch someones life?

Human behavior is an interesting study….whether one does that as a profession or just as a hobby. I am always amazed at the situations I find myself in while observing. Sometimes I am on the outside looking in and at other times I find myself on the inside looking out. A person’s motivation is not always discernible to me.

Even though I do not always know, or for that matter, always understand human  motivations…….I know someone who does. He knows us each intimately. He knows every hair on your head (or lack thereof), He sees each tear that falls—and never forgets. He celebrates our joys. He knows the second we were born as well as the second we will take our last breath. He knows our heart better than we do. In Hebrews, chapter 4, verses 12-13 tell us, “For the word of God is living and active. Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow; it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart. Nothing in all creation is hidden from God’s sight. Everything is uncovered and laid bare before the eyes of Him to whom we must give account.”

Our Creator knows us. He has known us from the very beginning. Psalms 139 tells us, “For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know them full well. My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place …..your eyes saw my unformed body, all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be. ………”

Thank you Lord for being the ultimate people watcher. For knowing and understanding your creations. For loving us.

School Rules For Radicals

I heard today that the NEA (The National Education Association) would like for Saul Alinsky’s Rules For Radicals to become mandatory reading in this country’s high schools.

Saul Alinsky was a community organizer…..who had some very debatable rules for whether the ends justify the means. I certainly wouldn’t want MY children to be forced to read his book. Sure, his book is controversial and yes, there have always been books that people struggle with….the thing is, if they are wanting that book read, what conservative book are they also going to make mandatory? In order to keep everything fair and balanced, of course. Hmmmm……?

I believe that the NEA is a liberal group. I was a member a long time ago, until I realized that my dues money was being used towards promoting things that I had no desire to promote. It is irritating that what is supposed to be a union for teachers, has become nothing more than a sounding board for the left.  What should be used to further true learning, has been distorted into something that doesn’t even resemble a union that promotes education for the children of this country. Make no mistake about it…there is an agenda.

If that isn’t bad enough….the state of Texas is deciding what to put in or delete from their textbooks.  They are considering taking out things that pertain to Christianity in the history of our country while adding many things about Islam and Hinduism. All this in the name of cultural diversity.  I hope people in the state of Texas state their opinion on this LOUD and CLEAR!

True education is not about distorting the truth. Yes, individuals are allowed to have differing opinions on things….but there are basic truths and trying to rewrite history because it doesn’t follow along with the liberal view is absolutely ridiculous.

The Possibilities In The Impossible

That’s impossible! There is no way that would EVER happen! Can’t you see that is just NOT going to work? Life is full of the impossibles. A broken heart. A broken life. A broken person. It is easy for us to believe that there are things in life that are absolutely impossible. Summits we will never reach. A life we will never know. That we are destined only for the ordinary. It’s easy to fall into the trap of the impossible.

Tonight I was thinking about my own life. Every so often I like to reevaluate where I’m going. I’ve been wondering lately if there is something I am missing. I can’t quite put my finger on it. I often find myself asking God, “What’s next?” “Could you please let me in on what is going on?” Do you ever feel like you are on the verge of something, but you just don’t know exactly what?

While thinking through all this, Luke 1:37 came to my mind. “For nothing is impossible with God.” Nothing. Is. Impossible. With. God.  NOTHING. Did you get that? It goes against our human nature to actually consider this verse. To believe it is true. After all isn’t life about all sorts of things that are impossible? God says, “No. Nothing is impossible WITH ME.”  And you know what? I believe Him.

My Blog Followers

I know I haven’t been able to blog for the past several days. Life happens….and wow, with all this life happening I am getting behind! Just wanted to let you know that I will be back to blog—probably on Friday. (When I will be able to actually take a deep breath and not have to run around at 100 m.p.h with my hair on fire.) I’ve good stuff to blog about!!!!

Livin’ The Good Life

Some say to be happy…

to live a life full of glam,

You need lots of money

But that’s sinking sand…

All the money in this world

loaded up with bling

those aren’t the things

that make the heart sing.

The riches the world craves

Leave one empty and cold

One can’t buy what’s important

No matter the gold.

I’d rather have friends

that show they care

Who will help when needed

and are willing to share.

A family that loves me,

and tells me so.

Who want only my best,

And to see that love grow.

The things of this world

can lead to regret

I’d rather have the colors

of a country sunset.

The stillness, the beauty

every star sparkles bright

A breathtaking display

to illuminate the night.

The world full of color

My God, He created

The richness of life

Creativity unabated.

True wealth

has nothing to do with mere things

God, love, and family

They make the heart sing.

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A Voice That Echoes Through Time

I am half way through a long term subbing gig. One of the teachers at the local middle school is out on maternity leave. I had agreed (during a short time of obvious insanity) to teach a group of 7th and 8th graders.

During the 8th grade block we have been studying The Diary of Anne Frank. This diary was filled with the normal stuff of a young teenager’s life….with the exception of the time period being WW II….and being a Jew….and in hiding. It truly is amazing that she stayed as upbeat as she did considering her situation. My heart was touched as I read her story, her last words made me cry…because sadly, even though she survived in hiding for 25 months before the Nazi’s found her family, she did not survive her last few months in Bergen-Belsen. Typhus spread through that concentration camp in early 1945 and many, many who were already so malnourished and abused succumbed to the illness.

One of the activities that the students are journaling about is this: If you had to go into hiding–and had to do it quickly—what would you take with you? What are the things that are important to you? This activity was designed to make the students think.  These 8th graders are the same age that Ann was when she first went into hiding with her family. As a teacher how do I make these children understand? How do I communicate what really happened during this period of history?

Some of my students are asking questions such as, “How did this happen? Who allowed it? Didn’t the German people understand what was going on? I don’t understand why the Jews were hated.” They have a difficult time understanding the horror of Anne’s circumstances–when all they’ve ever known in their own young lives, is freedom and privilege. How do I communicate truths to students so that their generation doesn’t let something like this ever happen again?

The Miracles In The Mundane Of Motherhood

Motherhood. In my naivete’,I just knew that I’d have it covered. Puh-leeze!  I could do this….after all I KNEW children. I took Child Development classes in high school. I babysat. I majored in special education in college and took myriad number of COLLEGE level courses on the child psyche. If anyone could do this it was me. Supermom at your service. For sure.

Then reality hit. When I say “hit” I mean kind of like a baseball bat. To the head. Ouch.

I had my son in May of 1995. Just 2 days after my 27th birthday. My pregnancy went well except for the 6 week stint of barfing. Morning sickness AND evening sickness. Brushing my teeth even made me gag, but I was a trooper. I was determined to be with child AND have a bright white smile and fresh breath. So, I carried on.

My son was born 2 1/2 weeks early according to the doctors. I blame it on the fact that the evening before he was born we had a tornado in Knoxville, Tennessee. The barometric pressure dropped and I think it messed with my uterus. I’m just sayin’. Except for being born with a little jaundice, which to be honest I thought looked like a nice tan, the delivery went well  and my son was beautiful. Of course I had an epidural so there wasn’t much pain…just a lot of pushing. My husband was a big help and to give the man credit…he put up with a lot. (the fact that I had back labor before getting the epidural—well, that is another story.)

Now, at this point I was exhausted but happy. My son is a joy. I’m happy. He’s happy. My husband’s happy. We’re all happy. Then it hit. Reality. My epidural wore off and I was sore like I had never felt sore before. After several hours I decided I could get up and use the restroom. The nurse told me she would have to go with me. I told her I was a shy pee’er and I wouldn’t be able to go if she was in the bathroom. I tried to convince her I’d been peeing my whole life, and at 27 I had the procedure down pat. She told me I could pass out because of something to do with the epidural having worn off, blah..blah…. I told her that was silly. She finally agreed to stand at the other side of the door, with the door cracked open. I grudgingly agreed and went to sit down when, yes you guessed it, I started to black out. The nurse caught me just before I cracked my head on the bathroom floor. I vaguely remembered her yelling for ammonia…and my husband in a confused state asking why she wanted to clean the bathroom? This is my life. I should have known that I had just embarked on a journey that was NOT going to be a piece of cake. Only a few hours into motherhood and I was already passing out.

The next few years consisted of me listening to my little one struggle to breathe when he got bronchitis. Staying up all night and staring at his chest. Watching it heave up and down. Knowing that his tiny body was so fragile…yet, so resilient. After that scary time, it never happened again. Thank you Jesus. Then at 2 and 1/2 he was with his father, outside, when he decided that he’d get on the picnic table. He fell and cut his head on the seat of the table on the way down. Head wounds. Lots of blood. A father in panic mode. A trip to the doctors office. Stitches. I came home from work that day to find my handsome son looking like he had just took a few rounds in the boxing ring. Bruised with stitches marching just above his eyebrow. So attractive, and just in time for his preschool picture day!  That following Easter we decorated Easter eggs. Fun stuff. I made the mistake of telling my toddler that we would eventually eat the hard boiled eggs. One evening he got into the fridge when I was on the phone and preceded to eat the egg with the shell still on it. He came into the living room a few minutes later. His face, teeth, tongue and hands, all a nice pastel shade of blue. I began to freak out thinking that my baby was exhibiting symptoms of some rare disease. Until, he informed me, “Mommy, the Easter egg is good.” At that, I burst into giggles and attempted to scrub my little Smurf back to his normal skin tone as I explained that egg shells are not the part of the egg that we eat, even if it did look pretty at the time.

Over the years there were the good times and the difficult times. Bedtime stories, hugs and sloppy kisses, birthday parties. Lots of laughter and tears. Family vacations, and him holding my hand. Church choir, camps, video games, and silliness. Those of you that have sons know what I’m talking about.

When my little boy was 4 his father, my husband, was diagnosed with an incurable heart disease. He died a mere year and four months later. You can imagine the sadness. We had only just started and it was over. Just like that. Standing at my husbands grave, that cold gray day in November 2000…I felt a little hand grab mine. A little voice coming out of the body of a 5 year old, but seeming so much older and wiser said, “Mommy, don’t cry. This is only Daddy’s body here. Daddy is in Heaven with God.”  God spoke to me that day through my son. He wanted me to remember the promise of  John 11:25 “I am the resurrection and the  life. He that believes in Me, though he dies, yet shall he live.”  That day I was reminded that out of the mouths of children can come great wisdom.

The next five years were filled with normal life kinds of things. Church, school, vacations out  West, family get togethers, sleep overs at friends houses, spelling tests, and math homework, goofiness and seriousness. All of life in a big jumble. We were doing okay….me and my sidekick.

After 5 years of widowhood God brought another man into my life. A man that understood what I had gone through. Our experiences were similar. He had lost his wife a few years before. We were kindred spirits. No one wants to join The Widow/er Club, but death doesn’t ask if one wants membership. It just gives it to you.

We married in 2005. Along with this marriage I got another son and two daughters. Just as I thought I had the whole being a mom thing under control…. then reality hit. AGAIN. These children had lost their mother. My heart broke for them, just as it had for my own son at the loss of his Daddy. How does one be a mom #2?  There is no manual for it. Believe me, if there were one I would have read it. A LOT. How does one mother the motherless? I wasn’t sure how this would happen. What do I say? How do I act? What if they don’t bond with me? What if they hate my guts?  Then what?  God, in His infinite wisdom spoke to my heart.

“LOVE THEM. ADOPT THEM IN YOUR HEART. THAT IS ALL YOU NEED TO DO.  Dawn, you are my adopted child. I bought you for a price. You were redeemed and now you are mine. I love you because I choose too. Do the same for them.They need a mother’s love…not to take the place of the mother that they had….but, to show them that I am God and I will take care of them. I am their provider.”

You know what? God is good. All the time. Even in motherhood. Even in widowhood. Even in life. Even in death. Even in trauma. Even in calm. Through bloody noses, or skinned knees, through arguments, and “it’s not fair!”. Through hugs and kisses, school and projects. He remains good when I’m having a great day or when I’ve just been awarded “the worst mom of the year award.”

I like to believe that I am much wiser than I was back in my twenties. When I thought I had motherhood all figured out. When I had my own motherhood map all planned. Motherhood is messy, and chaotic, and fun, and sometimes broken. I am thankful in the midst of all my mom mess-ups that I am holding the hand of the One who promised me that He has a plan for me and a future with hope. A-men.