Sunday, July 27, 2014


Mothers are warmth and laughter mixed with the sweet scent of Bath & Body "Sweet Pea".  They are smiles from ear to ear when you tell them the same story over and over again; and full body hugs that are guaranteed to break the sad right off of ya, while simultaneously warming you all the way down to your toes.
They are the first person to love you, hold you, and witness your presence in this world.  The last person to let go, the longest one to hold on, and the fiercest believers of all who ever called them "Mom."
Mothers are forever.
Even the mothers we have kissed goodbye have left us with the lessons they taught, the tears they cried, and the stories they told.
Mothers have special powers.  They have the ability to believe in you while also knowing full well that you are up to no good at all.  They run on minimum battery power, and they struggle through an on the job training program that is constantly changing.

Mothers are Monday night taco night while you watch The Bachelor together; and "girls only swim days" on a sunny Saturday.  Jokes that only she understands.  Chips and salsa by the pool.  And ice cream sandwiches that remind you of your childhood.
Mothers are the silly moments where you laugh at who you are, who you've become, and what you will one day be.  They are reminders that life is meant to be soft, and tender, and smell like baby powder.  They are laughter and they are tears.  They are Hope and they are Tomorrow.  They are all things good.

At least my mother is.
And hopefully I am too.

Here's to having the best job in the world.
I am a Mother.

Monday, July 21, 2014

soul food

More times than I care to admit I find myself off track.  I look up and realize that I have been banging my head against the wall for God only knows how long; and I'm beginning to resemble one of those toy cars that promises to turn around and do fancy tricks, but really only knows how to work in one gear.
It's a gear.
I know because I frequent it.

It is then that I go back.
Back to the place I know the best.  Back to the place where I am always connected, understood, seen, and known.
I go to my Bible.  The Word of God.

And I ask the same questions I asked the last time I was there.
Why? How? When?
Why did I stay away for so long?  How can I forget this connection?  And when?
When will I move my focus back onto Him and off of the things that pale in comparison to His astonishing love?

Because here I find a peace that passes all of the understanding I could ever know.
Here I find a reminder that I was made with a purpose greater than I can imagine.
Here I remember that His joy is great. And it is available to be my strength.

So I purpose to lay down the things that hurt me today, yesterday, last week.
The words that stung, the plans that didn't go as planned, the reasons I sighed or felt like giving in.
The things that frustrated and overwhelmed me.  The moments I want to forget.
I set aside the anger, the plans to be self-important, and the ways I'm convinced I could solve it all.

And I just trust Him.
I will be me and He will be God.
I will believe and He will be faithful.
I will relax and He will work on my behalf.
I will take a step and He will provide the direction.

And all will be well with my soul.
Because I am His and He is mine.
(Song of Solomon 2:16)

Saturday, June 7, 2014

speaking of memory and pie and surprise blog posts...

Would you just look at how long it's been since I've written a blog post?  If you scroll down to the prior post you will see that February was the last time we spoke.  So, how have you been?

Not much.
Just consuming myself with all things unrelated to blogging as of late; while simultaneously berating myself for not blogging.
It's a new hobby of mine.  I work on one thing; while kicking myself for not doing the other thing.
I'm not caring for the hobby all that much; however, it does showcase my continued ability to multi-task.
And, I guess I'm sort of proud of that.

It's like the phone number thing.
You may not know, but I have this thing about phone numbers.
I refuse to write them down.
Because all of my life I've heard the stories about how I could memorize faster and better than any of the other babies in the nursery.
And I have seen (and heard) the cassette tapes that hold the sound of my wee little voice spouting off all the things I had learned and memorized that day.
I guess humility wasn't really my thing back then either.

But I'm here to tell you that the badge of honor for "having the best memory" has gotten a bit weighty in my old age.
What if someone corners me at the next family reunion with a stopwatch and a tape recorder??
You laugh.
But my nightmares are real, people.

Hence the phone number thing.
I consider it a form of exercise for my brain and sometimes I also count it as real exercise so that I can have a piece of pie afterwards.
Give me a phone number.  Any phone number.
Feel free to make it international.  Feel free to make it a tongue twister.
I'll force myself to not write it down and I won't allow myself to enter it into my phone until it has been twenty minutes and I am sure I have it memorized.
At which point I allow myself to enter the number into my phone so that I can go home and polish my memory badge.
And sometimes there is pie.

So there you have it.  The best I could come up with after four months of not blogging.
You don't have to be my friend anymore if this sort of thing concerns you.
But I'm a heck of a good time at reunions.

Wednesday, February 26, 2014

She's Beautiful..and she's on the cover of a magazine.

My son brought home an angel one day.
I'll never forget that day because it was the 4th of July, we were preparing to head to a celebration picnic, and he brought her home while I still had my hair in curlers.
I knew the moment I saw her that two things were happening.
First of all, the torch was being passed to the newer and younger generation who had naturally wavy hair and no need for hot rollers. I was suddenly no longer as young as I liked to imagine myself.
And secondly, I knew she was ours.
I knew it after the first few moments of meeting her.
All it took was seeing the way they looked at each other, the eyes through which she saw my boy, and the way he saw her....
I t was obvious.
His life had been forever changed.
And so had ours.

To know her is to love her.

Our Maggie.

Her story is highlighted in this issue of Beautifully You and is well worth the read.
Written by Maggie, herself, and touching to the end.
God is good.
And we are ever so thankful for His gift of Maggie in our lives.