“Are we there yet?”
“No.”
“When will we be there?”
“When we get there.”
“Is it the next stop sign?”
“Not even close.”
“How much farther?”
“305 miles.”
“How many feet is that?”
Really? Did she just ask me that? She really DID ask me that. She told me to “Google it.” She’s five.
Every journey is paved with anticipation. Some journeys are filled with an eagerness to arrive, others with anxiety for the trip and what lies ahead. We all want to know, “When are we going to get there?”
I like old houses. They are intriguing.
Do you know the kind of houses that I am talking about? The kinds that are vacant, varying stages of repair. Some have been refurbished, others are just a shell of what once was, barely holding together. You wonder how much longer it can stand before finally letting go. I’m referring to the old houses that you look at and think, “Wow! In its day, I bet that was an AWESOME house.”
Not only are they fun to photograph and walk through, but sometimes I find myself just staring through the old windows and wondering…
I’ve been seeing a lot of cute posts and pictures, reading a lot of words of kindness and encouragement, for delivery men this season. I get it. Trust me!!! I am eternally thankful to MY delivery guys AND GALS for all the hard work that they put in, especially during the Christmas season. I, a stay-home, homeschooling mom of four children, rarely get the chance to go to a store alone, like NEVER. I have ordered all my gifts this year…and last year…and the year before. I am on the “Thank a Delivery Guy” bandwagon and I am tooting the horn…the kids are banging the drums.
BUT, I want to take it a step further…further UP the chain…
I’d also like to shine the spotlight on another group of people…a very LARGE, incredibly important group of people. You could say that they are the grease that keeps the crazy mouse-wheel that we are on spinning. They are overlooked A LOT. In fact, they are often looked down on. They are grumbled and complained about more often than any positive or loving word is said about them….at least from the mouths and keyboards of people that I see.
The Santas that I want to tip my hat to remain hidden away, behind the scenes.
Truck drivers.
No, not just DELIVERY truck drivers, but also the big-rigs, 18-wheelers, over the road truckers. These are the drivers who sleep in dark truck stops or vacant lots, away from their families for weeks, sometimes months, on end. Most of them don’t know from one day to the next where their “home” is going to be parked, it’s all dictated by the all-powerful clock. They are battling a schedule that was borderline impossible to keep, right from the start of their current run.
It was a life-line. It was what I needed. The phone call, “I have a question for you.”
A question? What kind of question? Who starts a conversation that way? What does she need ME to DO?
“Do you want to come over tonight for dinner?”
What? Dinner? Hallelujah, YES!!!
It had been one of “those” weeks. Day-light savings just ended (mommy nightmare), three cars in and out of the shop, an electrical issue in the kitchen, every BIG bill that could be due was due, rain, rain, rain, stuck inside…
This mama was in a physical and emotional slump and she needed something, anything. Dinner with a friend, that I didn’t have to cook. Someone else’s house. Someone else’s messes…SCORE!!!
Gratitude…
Webster defines it: the quality of being thankful; readiness to show appreciation
We are reminded many, many times in the Bible to give thanks to God for the blessings that he has given us, but do we ever take the time to ponder how extensive these blessings truly are? As we sit around the table this Thanksgiving and name the many things that we thankful for, the list will include such things as family, friends, food, home, health, jobs…you get the idea. These are the “big ones,” the ones that stand out…prominent features. How often do we miss out on the less noticeable, hidden gems? Life can be so fast-paced. Often, we get caught up in the coming and going, so much to do. We fail to see it all. We miss what is right in front of us…so, so much beauty, wasted.
We were out of firewood. It was going to be a week before my parents could come to visit and bring some more, and the weather was supposed to be going down below freezing. The day before, we had gone out and collected as much wood from around the yard as we could. Mommy and the littles collected sticks, branches, and dead trees while daddy chopped. We had a nice little pile. Sunday morning came, mommy and the big girls went to church, daddy stayed home with the two youngest because one was sick and mommy had to teach Children’s Church. We were going to miss our church Thanksgiving dinner due to her sniffles so we decided to make homemade pizza and roast marshmallows on the fire. We burned through that little pile of wood that we painstakingly produced in no time. All that work…so little satisfaction. I told my husband that I would go to the store and get another batch of firewood just to get us through the evening…we had yet to roast the marshmallows. I went to our local Walmart to purchase a few bundles of wood because at the time I could not remember where I had seen firewood for sale and our fire was quickly burning out. I loaded several bundles into my cart and headed to the checkout…Garden Center of course. Those lines are always shorter. Continue reading “No Stranger to Kindness”
I hear it all the time, “I don’t know how you do it.”
Or I get asked, “How DO you do it?”
Do what?
Survive?
I just do…or I don’t…depends on how you look at it.
Have you ever been to the beach?
Have you ever been playing in the waves and found yourself knocked off your feet by a really big one?
You’re head over heels…
Rolling…
Flipping…
Spinning…
Round and round…
Not knowing which way is up.
Your head is above water for a second…gasp.
You think you’ve got it…feet on the ground…NOPE!!
There you go, rolling again, and again…
You get it? Been there?
Have you ever bled green?
No, I’m not talking sports teams here. I don’t even know which team “bleeds green.”
I’m talking about really bleeding green.
I’ve always been intrigued by these flowers. My daughter calls them her “birthday flowers.” They grow on “her tree” because they are usually at their fullest bloom in the weeks leading up to her birthday.
The flower, if you don’t recognize it, is a Hibiscus mutabilis, a confederate rose, or “cotton rose.” We have a huge tree planted outside of our old home. It was given to me by a lady, a stranger, outside of a restaurant one day. I don’t know her name, perhaps I can ask around and find out. I brought this plant home in a large can, the kind you would find in a school or church kitchen. I planted it, watered it, sheltered it in the winter. At one time, I would cut it back every year, but I stopped. I wanted it to just grow, reach its own potential…decide for itself how big or small it should be. It is now as tall as the house. When we moved, I took a small cutting from it, brought it along to our new home, and took the same care to root and plant that small tree as I did its parent. It now resides next to the shed at our new house and seems to be doing just fine.
It’s the last day of October, Halloween is here…
As I prepare the costumes for my children and plan how to paint/mask their beautiful faces, I realize that so many of us are already living with masks on. So very afraid of what others would think if they saw the “true us,” we make sure to cover up, hide behind our figurative masks before we leave the house and face the world.
Peanut Butter in My Hairbrush 