~
So.
At 1:03 AM this morning, Jake woke me up.
To ask me:
"Mom. What is an antibiotic?"
Yes.
He did.
And because I continue to encourage learning and made a solemn promise to myself that I would always answer their questions using age-appropriate language, I rubbed my eyes, knocked on my noggin, and tried to answer his question.
I wasn't doing a very good job, because he wouldn't stop interrupting me with even MORE questions...
(ASIDE....to all of Jake's former, current, and future educators.....I AM SOOOO SOOOOOO VERRRRY SORRRRY!!!!)
(ASIDE #2......to the person who called us The Family of Interruptors....KUDOS)
So I switched metaphors and decided to use the metaphor of vaccinations.
I got his attention, because he's not a fan of .... SHOTS.
But he IS a fan of history! It's become his favorite subject in school, he loves watching documentaries, and he has begun to reference Revolutionary War, Civil War, WWII, and Vietnam battles by name. And he's become quite the expert on the 13 Hours of Benghazi. Loves learning about "almost all" of the Presidents....
So I decided to use the Polio Vaccine as an example.
I asked him if he knew of anybody famous who had Polio.
He excitedly exclaimed, "YEAH! FDR!"
Correct.
I then told him about Dr. Jonas Salk.
"His name was SOCK, Mom?"
"No, SALK. Like WALK, TALK...."
I try to move on. Since it's 1:13 AM.
I think I did a respectable job,
Until he started screaming. Yes, my lamb wa screaming. At 1:17 AM.
MOMMMMM!!!!!
YOU told DOCTOR JILL that it was OKAY to GIVVVVE ME
POLLLLLL EEEEEEEE OHHHHHHH????
WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU??????
Sigh.
If only he knew I "told" Doctor Jill to give him Measles, Mumps, Rubella, Diptheria, Whooping Cough, yearly doses of Influenza.....
I'll keep that little tidbit for another day.
Because, I am 100% confident that day will come.
~
Saturday, July 2, 2016
Friday, July 1, 2016
Arby's
~
So.
I got takeout from the brand new Arby's in Clermont tonight. WOOT WOOT!!! This town has been chomping at the bit for it to finally open!
Before I left, Jake said, "You know what I want, right?"
Me: Yes. A plain Roast Beef sandwich with Curly Fries.
Jake: Ok and NO ONIONS!
Me: Dude, it's NOT McDonalds. They don't have burgers. Just roast beef, chicken, and turkey sandwiches.
I left in the pouring Florida rain.
12 cars in line in front of me, 12 cars behind.
Got home in a much heavier rainstorm, dripping wet.
I got Jake's food ready for him, and allowed him to eat in front of the TV because it's Few Rules Friday and he "worked" so hard today, "helping" fix the roof by jumping off of it into the pool.
Whatevs.
He takes one bite of his plain Classic Arby's Roast Beef Sandwich and yells:
THIS IS NOTTTTT ROAST PULLED BEEF PORK!
Me: ??????????
Jerk, I mean JAKE: I WANTED that pulled roast beef pork sandwich with BBQ sauce on it that Dad makes!
Me: Did you want beef OR pork? Cuz they don't have pulled pork. Only deliciously sinful synthetic beef.
Jake: I THOUGHT you HEARD me CORRECTLY when you left! THIS is not roast pulled beef pork!
Me: You are correct. Beef comes from a cow, pork comes from a pig and Arby's comes from a laboratory.
JerkyJake: I don't want anything from there EVER again!
Me: Fine by me.
Jake: Except their roast beef curly fries. I DO like those.
??????????????????????
~
So.
I got takeout from the brand new Arby's in Clermont tonight. WOOT WOOT!!! This town has been chomping at the bit for it to finally open!
Before I left, Jake said, "You know what I want, right?"
Me: Yes. A plain Roast Beef sandwich with Curly Fries.
Jake: Ok and NO ONIONS!
Me: Dude, it's NOT McDonalds. They don't have burgers. Just roast beef, chicken, and turkey sandwiches.
I left in the pouring Florida rain.
12 cars in line in front of me, 12 cars behind.
Got home in a much heavier rainstorm, dripping wet.
I got Jake's food ready for him, and allowed him to eat in front of the TV because it's Few Rules Friday and he "worked" so hard today, "helping" fix the roof by jumping off of it into the pool.
Whatevs.
He takes one bite of his plain Classic Arby's Roast Beef Sandwich and yells:
THIS IS NOTTTTT ROAST PULLED BEEF PORK!
Me: ??????????
Jerk, I mean JAKE: I WANTED that pulled roast beef pork sandwich with BBQ sauce on it that Dad makes!
Me: Did you want beef OR pork? Cuz they don't have pulled pork. Only deliciously sinful synthetic beef.
Jake: I THOUGHT you HEARD me CORRECTLY when you left! THIS is not roast pulled beef pork!
Me: You are correct. Beef comes from a cow, pork comes from a pig and Arby's comes from a laboratory.
JerkyJake: I don't want anything from there EVER again!
Me: Fine by me.
Jake: Except their roast beef curly fries. I DO like those.
??????????????????????
~
Silly String
~
So.
Team Fallon has a tradition of whipping out Silly String on birthdays and special occasions. Reilly's 14th birthday party on the lake was no exception. When I handed over a case of Silly String to a few of the boys and said "Have at it, everyone's fair game, but you HAVE to get Reilly FIRST." They looked at me in open-mouthed shock, thinking I was either the craziest or the coolest Mom in the universe or a bit of both, until I nudged my head to where Reilly was standing, and then the 2016 Silly String War was ON! It was, as always, AWE-SOME, DUDES.
Unbelievably, a few cans of Silly String remained long after the party was over.
Fast forward 4 days and 15 minutes ago.
All I heard was a high pitched vampire-like scream, and a Ferocious Fourteen year old lowering the vampire voice to that of a wolverine as she bellowed, "YOU LITTLE Bxxxx!!!!!", followed by the slamming of the front door.
Whence Ferocious Fallon reentered the domicile, I asked in a normal tone of voice,
"Lemme guess. Jake came in the house and sprayed you with Silly String?"
Ferocious: YEAH! And, he did it IN THE HOUSE!
Wise, wise Mom: Hmmmmmm. And he was unprovoked?
Ferocious: Well....
Wise, wise Mom: (waiting ever so patiently)
Ferocious: I sprayed him first.......but I did it OUTSIDE!!!! I would NEVER do it in the house, MOM!
Wise, wise Mom hath decided to call this one a draw. Even though Reilly started it, and used an expletive and should be punished, and Jake should be punished for spraying Silly String in da house... I'm silently exploding with glee inside that Jake is FINALLY fighting back at the 8 or so years of bullying he hath endured at the hands of Ferocious.
Yeah, I'm a A Bad Mom. A Real Bad Mom.
~
So.
Team Fallon has a tradition of whipping out Silly String on birthdays and special occasions. Reilly's 14th birthday party on the lake was no exception. When I handed over a case of Silly String to a few of the boys and said "Have at it, everyone's fair game, but you HAVE to get Reilly FIRST." They looked at me in open-mouthed shock, thinking I was either the craziest or the coolest Mom in the universe or a bit of both, until I nudged my head to where Reilly was standing, and then the 2016 Silly String War was ON! It was, as always, AWE-SOME, DUDES.
Unbelievably, a few cans of Silly String remained long after the party was over.
Fast forward 4 days and 15 minutes ago.
All I heard was a high pitched vampire-like scream, and a Ferocious Fourteen year old lowering the vampire voice to that of a wolverine as she bellowed, "YOU LITTLE Bxxxx!!!!!", followed by the slamming of the front door.
Whence Ferocious Fallon reentered the domicile, I asked in a normal tone of voice,
"Lemme guess. Jake came in the house and sprayed you with Silly String?"
Ferocious: YEAH! And, he did it IN THE HOUSE!
Wise, wise Mom: Hmmmmmm. And he was unprovoked?
Ferocious: Well....
Wise, wise Mom: (waiting ever so patiently)
Ferocious: I sprayed him first.......but I did it OUTSIDE!!!! I would NEVER do it in the house, MOM!
Wise, wise Mom hath decided to call this one a draw. Even though Reilly started it, and used an expletive and should be punished, and Jake should be punished for spraying Silly String in da house... I'm silently exploding with glee inside that Jake is FINALLY fighting back at the 8 or so years of bullying he hath endured at the hands of Ferocious.
Yeah, I'm a A Bad Mom. A Real Bad Mom.
~
Wednesday, June 29, 2016
The Hangover
~
So.
Several months ago, we were treated to a visit from our St. Louis peeps, Aunt Debbie and Uncle Kelly. We visited them back in 2009 during our 'round the world in 40 days BIG TRIP', (Revisit them in Tending Bar and Motorcade ).
Anyhoo, we headed out for lunch at a Bubba's Catfish House here in Clermont. YUMMMM-O.
All of us were hankering for some seafood.
Except, of course.....
The Tweenager formerly known as Captain Jake Sparrow.
Let's just call him JAKE for now.
He doesn't like seafood. Actually, he DOES like seafood, he just THINKS he doesn't. Does this mentality ring a bell? Yeah, he's still the Captain.
So we talked him into ordering some popcorn shrimp and mac n cheese. He liked the sound of popcorn shrimp because he eats several bags of popcorn EVERY SINGLE DAY.
We chit chat for awhile, munch on some conch fritters, Jake becomes the center of attention, because, well, he's like the sun in his own galaxy. He doesn't do it on purpose. It just IS.
Food arrives. And it was just as YUMMMMO as expected.
Big Bad Dad and I are curious to see what Jake thinks of the popcorn shrimp.
He took one of the shrimp, and DOUSED it in cocktail sauce, then put it in his mouth.
I knew that "Somethin' Bad About Ta Happen", because I KNEW that he THOUGHT that he was dousing his shrimp in....KETCHUP.
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
He took one big bite, and his eyes popped out of his head, Muppet-style, he coughed, he gulped some water, his eyes were blinking, he swallowed, and he said:
"What the HECK kind of KETCHUP is THIS?"
I think it was Reilly who said, "Dude, it's not ketchup. It's cocktail sauce."
Oh buoy.
And then the drama started.
"Whoa."
"I'm not feeling so good."
"I think I'm drunk,"
"Dad, is this what it feels like when you drink a lot of beers?"
"Whew."
"OH WOW."
"I'm hammered."
"I think I have a hangover."
We all let this go on for several minutes, as the word 'cocktail' caused the hypochondria that was nothing but ketchup + horseradish in Jake's mouth.
Finally, Uncle Kelly had to end it. I was kinda sad, cuz this was wayyyyyy too funny to end.
Uncle Kelly: "Jake, do you know what the word 'cocktail' means?"
Drunk Jake: "Beer."
Uncle Kelly: "No. It means a 'mixture' of things."
Drunk Jake: "I don't think so. I'm pretty sure it means I'm drunk and I have a hangover."
~
So.
Several months ago, we were treated to a visit from our St. Louis peeps, Aunt Debbie and Uncle Kelly. We visited them back in 2009 during our 'round the world in 40 days BIG TRIP', (Revisit them in Tending Bar and Motorcade ).
Anyhoo, we headed out for lunch at a Bubba's Catfish House here in Clermont. YUMMMM-O.
All of us were hankering for some seafood.
Except, of course.....
The Tweenager formerly known as Captain Jake Sparrow.
Let's just call him JAKE for now.
He doesn't like seafood. Actually, he DOES like seafood, he just THINKS he doesn't. Does this mentality ring a bell? Yeah, he's still the Captain.
So we talked him into ordering some popcorn shrimp and mac n cheese. He liked the sound of popcorn shrimp because he eats several bags of popcorn EVERY SINGLE DAY.
We chit chat for awhile, munch on some conch fritters, Jake becomes the center of attention, because, well, he's like the sun in his own galaxy. He doesn't do it on purpose. It just IS.
Food arrives. And it was just as YUMMMMO as expected.
Big Bad Dad and I are curious to see what Jake thinks of the popcorn shrimp.
He took one of the shrimp, and DOUSED it in cocktail sauce, then put it in his mouth.
I knew that "Somethin' Bad About Ta Happen", because I KNEW that he THOUGHT that he was dousing his shrimp in....KETCHUP.
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
He took one big bite, and his eyes popped out of his head, Muppet-style, he coughed, he gulped some water, his eyes were blinking, he swallowed, and he said:
"What the HECK kind of KETCHUP is THIS?"
I think it was Reilly who said, "Dude, it's not ketchup. It's cocktail sauce."
Oh buoy.
And then the drama started.
"Whoa."
"I'm not feeling so good."
"I think I'm drunk,"
"Dad, is this what it feels like when you drink a lot of beers?"
"Whew."
"OH WOW."
"I'm hammered."
"I think I have a hangover."
We all let this go on for several minutes, as the word 'cocktail' caused the hypochondria that was nothing but ketchup + horseradish in Jake's mouth.
Finally, Uncle Kelly had to end it. I was kinda sad, cuz this was wayyyyyy too funny to end.
Uncle Kelly: "Jake, do you know what the word 'cocktail' means?"
Drunk Jake: "Beer."
Uncle Kelly: "No. It means a 'mixture' of things."
Drunk Jake: "I don't think so. I'm pretty sure it means I'm drunk and I have a hangover."
~
Tuesday, June 28, 2016
Revelation
~
So.
The world's a cray-cray place right now, isn't it?
As the (over-involved, yet not a "drone") parent of a Teen and Tween, WHOA!!!!
Jake is 11.
Reilly is 14.
At their level, which, even though they are extraordinarily intelligent and both are ALLEGEDLY 'geniuses' on paper, how does one explain "BREXIT" at their varying degrees of curiosity and attention spans?
How does one explain L? or G? or B? or T or Q? Honestly, I don't even understand T or Q. Really, I don't. I can't stop thinking about that scene in Kindergarten Cop where the 5 year old says "Boys have a penis, and girls have a vagina."
How do I tell my very strong, fiercely independent, dare I say 'ferocious' fourteen year old daughter that I cannot allow her to just go to the restroom alone while I shop at certain retail establishments? How do I explain to her that I am more concerned for her safety NOW than I was five years ago? She is unusually 'worldly' for her age. I'm sure some of you will judge me harshly for this, but she and I have been watching "Criminal Minds" together for YEARS. We share many interests. Including behavioral analysis. And serial killers. And how important it is for a beautiful, young girl who just so happens to fit the 'sex trafficking' profile to a TEE, to be able to arm, protect, and defend herself when she is alone, and what behaviors are necessary for her to learn to keep herself safe and ALIVE in this world where so many things just CANNOT be explained.
How do I explain that I CANNOT explain why, a young man, SLAUGHTERED 49 innocent who were just out doing some 'adult' partying, in THEIR BIRTHPLACE? How do I explain that I CANNOT explain that it still HAS NOT yet to be determined if there is another threat? If this monster was part of a vast global conspiracy? If individuals were targeted because of what they believe in?
How do I explain, that I can no longer PROCLAIM, pretty much ANYTHING?
Wait........WHAT?
Rojo?
Fallon?
Soapbox Stealer?
What the HELLLLLLLLLLLL?
Yeah.
I lose more arguments than I win.
I'm in Arguing Anonymous right now. Working on my first chip. Not there yet.
But I am apologizing like crazy. To just about everyone. Just last week, I apologized to someone for something I did a YEAR ago. She laughed. Not to be mean. She laughed because she didn't even remember. But I did. And then SHE apologized for laughing. And we're totally good. And I've got a pretty long list of more long overdue apologies that I must attempt.
And heretofore comes my latest revelation.
In case I haven't been "Crystal Clear" a la Colonel Nathan Jessup, I've been as far right of a right winger as one could be. No need to add any more than that. Just understand that I have been. That, jointly with my husband, we've raised our children with a certain conservative belief system that some of our families and friends have supported and encouraged, and yet some have raised many an eyebrow towards.
I'm no longer a far right wing conservative.
No one is more surprised than I am.
I'm 45 years old.
I don't think it's a middle aged crisis.
I am not on any mind-altering drugs.
I don't watch any news channels anymore.
I keep myself educated, as I absolutely love the art of learning. About anything. I just love to read. And I have an incredibly annoying habit of inundating my kiddos with "Fallon Fun Facts!".
So here's what I think I am now.
Confused.
Uncertain.
Leaning nowhere.
Desperately searching to find common ground.
Still conservative, but not a winged one.
I don't have a label.
I think I'm beginning to think that no one should have a label.
This is a bit problematic.
Because my husband is staunchly standing his ground that I am in direct opposition to his frame of mind, to a frame of mind I once shared, to a frame of mind that I directly or indirectly directed him towards from, as he is known to say, "Jump Street".
My world is a very confusing place right now.
But so is yours.
How do we explain this to our children?
I can't even explain it to myself.
~
So.
The world's a cray-cray place right now, isn't it?
As the (over-involved, yet not a "drone") parent of a Teen and Tween, WHOA!!!!
Jake is 11.
Reilly is 14.
At their level, which, even though they are extraordinarily intelligent and both are ALLEGEDLY 'geniuses' on paper, how does one explain "BREXIT" at their varying degrees of curiosity and attention spans?
How does one explain L? or G? or B? or T or Q? Honestly, I don't even understand T or Q. Really, I don't. I can't stop thinking about that scene in Kindergarten Cop where the 5 year old says "Boys have a penis, and girls have a vagina."
How do I tell my very strong, fiercely independent, dare I say 'ferocious' fourteen year old daughter that I cannot allow her to just go to the restroom alone while I shop at certain retail establishments? How do I explain to her that I am more concerned for her safety NOW than I was five years ago? She is unusually 'worldly' for her age. I'm sure some of you will judge me harshly for this, but she and I have been watching "Criminal Minds" together for YEARS. We share many interests. Including behavioral analysis. And serial killers. And how important it is for a beautiful, young girl who just so happens to fit the 'sex trafficking' profile to a TEE, to be able to arm, protect, and defend herself when she is alone, and what behaviors are necessary for her to learn to keep herself safe and ALIVE in this world where so many things just CANNOT be explained.
How do I explain that I CANNOT explain why, a young man, SLAUGHTERED 49 innocent who were just out doing some 'adult' partying, in THEIR BIRTHPLACE? How do I explain that I CANNOT explain that it still HAS NOT yet to be determined if there is another threat? If this monster was part of a vast global conspiracy? If individuals were targeted because of what they believe in?
How do I explain, that I can no longer PROCLAIM, pretty much ANYTHING?
Wait........WHAT?
Rojo?
Fallon?
Soapbox Stealer?
What the HELLLLLLLLLLLL?
Yeah.
I lose more arguments than I win.
I'm in Arguing Anonymous right now. Working on my first chip. Not there yet.
But I am apologizing like crazy. To just about everyone. Just last week, I apologized to someone for something I did a YEAR ago. She laughed. Not to be mean. She laughed because she didn't even remember. But I did. And then SHE apologized for laughing. And we're totally good. And I've got a pretty long list of more long overdue apologies that I must attempt.
And heretofore comes my latest revelation.
In case I haven't been "Crystal Clear" a la Colonel Nathan Jessup, I've been as far right of a right winger as one could be. No need to add any more than that. Just understand that I have been. That, jointly with my husband, we've raised our children with a certain conservative belief system that some of our families and friends have supported and encouraged, and yet some have raised many an eyebrow towards.
I'm no longer a far right wing conservative.
No one is more surprised than I am.
I'm 45 years old.
I don't think it's a middle aged crisis.
I am not on any mind-altering drugs.
I don't watch any news channels anymore.
I keep myself educated, as I absolutely love the art of learning. About anything. I just love to read. And I have an incredibly annoying habit of inundating my kiddos with "Fallon Fun Facts!".
So here's what I think I am now.
Confused.
Uncertain.
Leaning nowhere.
Desperately searching to find common ground.
Still conservative, but not a winged one.
I don't have a label.
I think I'm beginning to think that no one should have a label.
This is a bit problematic.
Because my husband is staunchly standing his ground that I am in direct opposition to his frame of mind, to a frame of mind I once shared, to a frame of mind that I directly or indirectly directed him towards from, as he is known to say, "Jump Street".
My world is a very confusing place right now.
But so is yours.
How do we explain this to our children?
I can't even explain it to myself.
~
Wednesday, June 8, 2016
Dream Dream Dream
~
So.
I think I've posted about my totally cray-cray dreams before.
I'd like to say they are a result of the mind-altering drugs I take.
But I've had crazy dreams all my life. Like, CRAYYYZEEEEEE dreams.
Two days ago I dreamt about Blake Shelton being a polygamist who chopped off all the left arms of his many wives. I was his third wife. He let me keep both my arms to help me secure him more wives.
Crayzee.
I know.
So, admittedly, I have more than just a secret crush on Blake Shelton.
I mean, like, HELLO? How can anyone NOT have a crush on this dude? Grown heterosexual MEN have ManCrushes or BroMances with this brilliantly talented, hysterically funny, giant, flannel shirt wearing, never clean shaven, self deprecating, Ford truck driving, hunk of a humble Oklahoman. Heckfire, if his next album was named, "I'm Blake and I'm YUMMY", it would probably break the internet.
I have such a gi-normous crush on Blake Shelton, that I've convinced my whole family to love him as much as I do. So much so, that even my HUSBAND loves him, and sends me links to youtube clips that I just "might" have missed. Like this one:
Highly unlikely, but I so appreciate that my husband lets me have a pretend boyfriend since he's out of town so much.
So last night, I had yet another Cray Cray dream about Blake Shelton. Which makes no sense, because I didn't see or hear any Blake Shelton yesterday. I wish there was a way to install a camera in my brain so I could just play it for everyone like a movie, rather than try to describe it.
I'll try, but it's Cray Cray, so if you can't keep track, don't worry, it's bizarre. But no chopped off limbs, thank goodness.
So.
I took my kids to school in the morning, and on my way home, I went to Walgreens, dressed in my usual "yoga panted, no makeup, clearly I'm a Mom" self. And there was Blake. In Walgreens. MY Walgreens. In CLERMONT. Wait....what? He was doing a surprise promotion of his new album.
Yeah, right, whatever. I figured I was at Madame Tussaud's. This couldn't have been real. But it was. And it was definitely a surprise, because there was NOBODY in the store. Except employees. And me. And....CARRIE UNDERWOOD holding a baby girl. Wait.....what?
Apparently they are married. And Blake is absolutely CooCoo for Cocoa Puffs over this baby girl.
Who is named SHELBY. He is singing songs to her and rocking her, and she just looks at his face and reaches a hand to touch his beard. And my heart is about to explode and I am about to bawl my eyes out over how much this man loves his little girl. I can't even move, I've been Jedi-mind-melded or something.
Eventually, they leave, said they have another engagement. Ok, whatevs. But as he walks out the door, he's holding this perfectly pink dressed little baby girl, and I JUMP on his back LIKE A MONKEY, and scream, "I LOVE YOUUUUU BLAAAAAAAKE!" Kind of like I do on his Twitter account with eleventy million other men and women every day.
So I go about my day. After I tweeted and texted and Facebooked eleventy thousand people "OMGEEEE, I hugged Blake Shelton today!!!!!" At the grocery store, I bump into this kind, older woman, who seems to be unaware of her surroundings. I ask her if I can assist her in any way. She smiles, and in an Oklahoma drawl, sweetly tells me that she needs a ride home because the person who was going to pick her up got held up. I told her that I would happily take her home, if she trusted me to do so. She was very kind, and smiled, and said, yes, she trusted anyone who would ask an elderly woman if she needed help. I told her I had to go pickup my kids from school, would she mind if we did that first and I would take her where she needed to go on our way home? She kindly smiled and said "Oh yes, I just love children!"
So we pick up my kids. Who are very confused about who is this strange old woman in our car. They get in, with all their "stuff", but don't close the doors. Suddenly, about 12 of my daughter's friends pile in as well. Wait....what??? Only one of them is on my approved "pick up list". None of the carline teachers seem to care. Maybe cuz it's Friday. Who knows. They are all fantastic kids and I love them all.
So, amidst all the teenage drama and chatter and chaos, I said, "Hey Dudes! Guess who I met today?" And my daughter's BFF said, "Duh, Blake Shelton." Wait.....what??? How do you know that? She said, "Why do you think all of us are in your car? All of our Moms who saw your posts on Facebook called the school and said you were picking us up so we can meet him too." Huh?
My daughter said, "I'm pretty sure she's making this up, but whatevs, We can just have a party at my house." Ummmm, yeah, okay. I guess. Since I've been entrusted with all these kids, I'm assuming that's okay. But....I don't know where Mr. Shelton is, as he left the Walgreens this morning, after I mauled him like a bear.
The kind, wide grinned old woman pipes up, "I know where he is. He's back at Walgreens."
Huh?
"I know this, because I'm his MOM."
SHUT THE FRONT DOOR! The entire herd of teenaged cattle in my SUV are wide mouthed and SILENT. I hit the pedal to the metal to get to Walgreen's faster than a speeding bullet.
Sure enough, there's my super not so secret crush, at the same table, signing autographs, his blue eyes twinkling, with a smile wider than Oklahoma. As we try to maneuver through the many people waiting in line, teenagers still wide mouthed and silent, Blake sees his Mama, and jumps up from the table and tears run down his eyes, and he just bear hugs her and keeps saying, "Mama! I love my Mama!" And she is just oozing with pride over the attention. And me and the herd o' teenagers just stand there in a trance-like awed silence. We eventually join the line of people waiting for autographs. I see Blake's Mama point to me and smile. And he gets this quizzical look on his face. He starts walking towards my herd. I'm about to have another heart attack. My daughter and her BFF start to literally shake. He embraces me like he does everyone he meets, and says, "I thought you were a crazed fan when you jumped on me this morning, but my wife Carrie said she thought you were genuine. And now that my Mama told me how kind you were to her, not even knowing that she was Blake Shelton's Mama, well now I know it too. Love you, SIS." And he walks back to the table.
OMGEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
Suddenly, my daughter and the herd think I am the coolest Mom in the universe of cool Moms. They are texting and Instagramming and snapping pics and taking videos and sharing them with the world. I cannot speak. My son tells me, "I love you, Mama." and hugs me big. I can't even move.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see that STEVE MARTIN (!) has entered Walgreens. Of course, none of the herd knows who he is. He walks directly towards me, and says, "Hello. My name is Steve. I was wondering if you would accompany to BLAKE'S PARTY AT HIS HOUSE IN WINDERMERE later tonight?" Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaat? I can't speak. My son and daughter in unison scream, "YES, SHE WILL!" I said, "Um, I'm married." Steve just smiled. My kids scream, "DAD WILL BE TOTALLY FINE WITH THIS MOM!"
Steve goes and stands next to Blake. Me and the Herd O'Teens finally reach the front of the line. I let all the kids go first. Blake gets all of them to engage and open up and soon they are all blushing and laughing and everyone of them buys every item he is selling. He smiles and says, "On the house kids. You have a good Mama. Can't put a price on that." Wow.
When I get to the table, Blake says, "Will you join my friend Steve and my Mama at our party tonight?" I start to stammer, I um, I um, I don't think I can, since I'm married. Blake pulls out a business card, and writes something on the back. He says, "I'm trusting you with my Mama, and I'm trusting you with this number. Please ask your husband to call me. I'd like for your whole family to join with mine. Steve Martin loves your blog. He wanted to meet you. And your kids."
Somehow I get the Herd and Blake's Mama back into the car, I take Mama home, shocked that she lives within walking distance of my house. Arriving at my house, the Herd jumps out of the car and heads for the pool. I sit on my couch in stunned silence. A few minutes later, my husband enters the door and says, "What are you doing? Shouldn't you be getting ready? We got us a party to go to! I don't think Blake Shelton wants to see you in yoga pants for the third time today."
And then I woke up.
So.
I think I've posted about my totally cray-cray dreams before.
I'd like to say they are a result of the mind-altering drugs I take.
But I've had crazy dreams all my life. Like, CRAYYYZEEEEEE dreams.
Two days ago I dreamt about Blake Shelton being a polygamist who chopped off all the left arms of his many wives. I was his third wife. He let me keep both my arms to help me secure him more wives.
Crayzee.
I know.
So, admittedly, I have more than just a secret crush on Blake Shelton.
I mean, like, HELLO? How can anyone NOT have a crush on this dude? Grown heterosexual MEN have ManCrushes or BroMances with this brilliantly talented, hysterically funny, giant, flannel shirt wearing, never clean shaven, self deprecating, Ford truck driving, hunk of a humble Oklahoman. Heckfire, if his next album was named, "I'm Blake and I'm YUMMY", it would probably break the internet.
I have such a gi-normous crush on Blake Shelton, that I've convinced my whole family to love him as much as I do. So much so, that even my HUSBAND loves him, and sends me links to youtube clips that I just "might" have missed. Like this one:
Highly unlikely, but I so appreciate that my husband lets me have a pretend boyfriend since he's out of town so much.
So last night, I had yet another Cray Cray dream about Blake Shelton. Which makes no sense, because I didn't see or hear any Blake Shelton yesterday. I wish there was a way to install a camera in my brain so I could just play it for everyone like a movie, rather than try to describe it.
I'll try, but it's Cray Cray, so if you can't keep track, don't worry, it's bizarre. But no chopped off limbs, thank goodness.
So.
I took my kids to school in the morning, and on my way home, I went to Walgreens, dressed in my usual "yoga panted, no makeup, clearly I'm a Mom" self. And there was Blake. In Walgreens. MY Walgreens. In CLERMONT. Wait....what? He was doing a surprise promotion of his new album.
Yeah, right, whatever. I figured I was at Madame Tussaud's. This couldn't have been real. But it was. And it was definitely a surprise, because there was NOBODY in the store. Except employees. And me. And....CARRIE UNDERWOOD holding a baby girl. Wait.....what?
Apparently they are married. And Blake is absolutely CooCoo for Cocoa Puffs over this baby girl.
Who is named SHELBY. He is singing songs to her and rocking her, and she just looks at his face and reaches a hand to touch his beard. And my heart is about to explode and I am about to bawl my eyes out over how much this man loves his little girl. I can't even move, I've been Jedi-mind-melded or something.
Eventually, they leave, said they have another engagement. Ok, whatevs. But as he walks out the door, he's holding this perfectly pink dressed little baby girl, and I JUMP on his back LIKE A MONKEY, and scream, "I LOVE YOUUUUU BLAAAAAAAKE!" Kind of like I do on his Twitter account with eleventy million other men and women every day.
So I go about my day. After I tweeted and texted and Facebooked eleventy thousand people "OMGEEEE, I hugged Blake Shelton today!!!!!" At the grocery store, I bump into this kind, older woman, who seems to be unaware of her surroundings. I ask her if I can assist her in any way. She smiles, and in an Oklahoma drawl, sweetly tells me that she needs a ride home because the person who was going to pick her up got held up. I told her that I would happily take her home, if she trusted me to do so. She was very kind, and smiled, and said, yes, she trusted anyone who would ask an elderly woman if she needed help. I told her I had to go pickup my kids from school, would she mind if we did that first and I would take her where she needed to go on our way home? She kindly smiled and said "Oh yes, I just love children!"
So we pick up my kids. Who are very confused about who is this strange old woman in our car. They get in, with all their "stuff", but don't close the doors. Suddenly, about 12 of my daughter's friends pile in as well. Wait....what??? Only one of them is on my approved "pick up list". None of the carline teachers seem to care. Maybe cuz it's Friday. Who knows. They are all fantastic kids and I love them all.
So, amidst all the teenage drama and chatter and chaos, I said, "Hey Dudes! Guess who I met today?" And my daughter's BFF said, "Duh, Blake Shelton." Wait.....what??? How do you know that? She said, "Why do you think all of us are in your car? All of our Moms who saw your posts on Facebook called the school and said you were picking us up so we can meet him too." Huh?
My daughter said, "I'm pretty sure she's making this up, but whatevs, We can just have a party at my house." Ummmm, yeah, okay. I guess. Since I've been entrusted with all these kids, I'm assuming that's okay. But....I don't know where Mr. Shelton is, as he left the Walgreens this morning, after I mauled him like a bear.
The kind, wide grinned old woman pipes up, "I know where he is. He's back at Walgreens."
Huh?
"I know this, because I'm his MOM."
SHUT THE FRONT DOOR! The entire herd of teenaged cattle in my SUV are wide mouthed and SILENT. I hit the pedal to the metal to get to Walgreen's faster than a speeding bullet.
Sure enough, there's my super not so secret crush, at the same table, signing autographs, his blue eyes twinkling, with a smile wider than Oklahoma. As we try to maneuver through the many people waiting in line, teenagers still wide mouthed and silent, Blake sees his Mama, and jumps up from the table and tears run down his eyes, and he just bear hugs her and keeps saying, "Mama! I love my Mama!" And she is just oozing with pride over the attention. And me and the herd o' teenagers just stand there in a trance-like awed silence. We eventually join the line of people waiting for autographs. I see Blake's Mama point to me and smile. And he gets this quizzical look on his face. He starts walking towards my herd. I'm about to have another heart attack. My daughter and her BFF start to literally shake. He embraces me like he does everyone he meets, and says, "I thought you were a crazed fan when you jumped on me this morning, but my wife Carrie said she thought you were genuine. And now that my Mama told me how kind you were to her, not even knowing that she was Blake Shelton's Mama, well now I know it too. Love you, SIS." And he walks back to the table.
OMGEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
Suddenly, my daughter and the herd think I am the coolest Mom in the universe of cool Moms. They are texting and Instagramming and snapping pics and taking videos and sharing them with the world. I cannot speak. My son tells me, "I love you, Mama." and hugs me big. I can't even move.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see that STEVE MARTIN (!) has entered Walgreens. Of course, none of the herd knows who he is. He walks directly towards me, and says, "Hello. My name is Steve. I was wondering if you would accompany to BLAKE'S PARTY AT HIS HOUSE IN WINDERMERE later tonight?" Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaat? I can't speak. My son and daughter in unison scream, "YES, SHE WILL!" I said, "Um, I'm married." Steve just smiled. My kids scream, "DAD WILL BE TOTALLY FINE WITH THIS MOM!"
Steve goes and stands next to Blake. Me and the Herd O'Teens finally reach the front of the line. I let all the kids go first. Blake gets all of them to engage and open up and soon they are all blushing and laughing and everyone of them buys every item he is selling. He smiles and says, "On the house kids. You have a good Mama. Can't put a price on that." Wow.
When I get to the table, Blake says, "Will you join my friend Steve and my Mama at our party tonight?" I start to stammer, I um, I um, I don't think I can, since I'm married. Blake pulls out a business card, and writes something on the back. He says, "I'm trusting you with my Mama, and I'm trusting you with this number. Please ask your husband to call me. I'd like for your whole family to join with mine. Steve Martin loves your blog. He wanted to meet you. And your kids."
Somehow I get the Herd and Blake's Mama back into the car, I take Mama home, shocked that she lives within walking distance of my house. Arriving at my house, the Herd jumps out of the car and heads for the pool. I sit on my couch in stunned silence. A few minutes later, my husband enters the door and says, "What are you doing? Shouldn't you be getting ready? We got us a party to go to! I don't think Blake Shelton wants to see you in yoga pants for the third time today."
And then I woke up.
Sunday, June 5, 2016
The Return of Team Fallon
~
I'm baaaaaaaaack.
It's been awhile, as the song says.
Lots has happened.
No surprise there, If you know anything about Team Fallon, and of course, since none of us four would know a secret if it walked up and shook our hands, thIen you old fans already know allllllll that's happened. But if there are any newbies out there, I'll get y'all caught up.
MOST importantly -
WE KICKED CANCER'S BUTT!!!!!!
It wasn't easy. We didn't do it alone. It could have been a lot worse. But all that matters is, we are now at the two year post-remission checkup, and Billy's numbers have NEVER been better. There is no sign of the Hairy Cells anywhere in his body. And the Oncologist doesn't seem to think that will change at anytime in the "near" future. Leukemia is weird. Like, they say you're in remission, but, that you'll always have leukemia. I used to be smarter, but even then I would have had a tough time grasping it. So I just hold on to the percentages. I'm kind of a statistic geek. Like, there's a 92% chance that the Hairy Cells will NOT return in the next 10 years. Those are awesome odds. Because if a baseball player hit the ball 92% of the time? Well, that means he'd be batting .920. And that's darn near impossible. So I'm thrilled with the 92%. We all are. Cancer changed Billy, in many ways. I think it changes him daily. Some good, some not so good. But all that matters is that he's still here. And we can ONLY be grateful for that.
One more thing before I tie up this mini-update:
We're not pirates anymore.
Ok, you can stop crying now,
We've all grown into different phases of new nicknames.
The Captain will ALWAYS be a Captain, of something. And he'll always be The Spawn, Buckshot, and Janice. Lately, his father and I will refer to him when texting each other as: YOUR BOY. As in, "you ain't gonna believe what YOUR BOY did today.'
Reilly the Red is currently red as a lobster, but she's also known as Thundercalves, Run Reilly Run, Faster Fallon Faster, Foulin' Fallon, Ralph, and....my personal favorite....The Alien Teenager Formerly Known As My Daughter.
Oh yeah. We are in the throes of adolescence. Many, many, many, stories to come in that department.
Two Swords? Doesn't do much swordfighting lately. Maybe because one of his children is taller, faster, and ALMOST stronger. ALMOST. So he pretty much declared himself BBD, or, Big Bad Dad. Cuz, he's all three, really. Me and the kids call him Grumpy McGrumperson. His buddies call him The Waffler. You'll soon learn why.
Me? I'm pretty much just plain Red. When I'm not being "MOMMMMMMMMMMMMMM!!!!"
Life as Team Fallon......to be continued.
~
Sunday, August 24, 2014
AUGUST: LAKE COUNTY
I've been remiss in posting since THE CANCER. A lot A LOT a lot has happened. I promise to bring y'all up to speed. Just read....
Wow. Trying to chill after a 24 hour marathon.
1).BBD returned after a week of building House of Waffle and asked me to
Lunch date at Burgercraft. (GO TO THERE, my friends. Their fries are worth a drive from Titusville to Clermont.)
2). Agonizing Budgetary Meeting of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. Ugh.
3). 5 super awesome and beautiful Tween and Teen young ladies with long, long legs and long, long, long, flowing hair descended upon our domicile to run their daily dose of 5 miles in 117 degree heat index (aka AUGUST: LAKE COUNTY) in the cross country terrain that is the woods behind us and the lake in front. LOVE THOSE GIRLS!!!
4). Bumpy readjustment to Big Bad Dad being home and uber disappointment that we couldn't "watch" our boy pitch last night but could only wait for the box scores to refresh every 90 seconds. Whew! Shouldn't have doubted #61yankee. #shanegreenegrewupinmydriveway
4). Pizza for breakfast, BBD played in the garage with Janet's innards all day while all my awesome housecleaning was leveled by kids and cats and dog and cats and kids. #soundslikelifetome
5). 4 hour solo attack on 3 grocery stores in an attempt to meet our new food budget. Unsuccessful - I went over by $7.36. I need to be sent back to TCCO Cost Camp Meridith Simeone!
6). The Tween has another suitor besides The Tweenaged DREAMY! An overly friendly #whereshoppingisapleasure employee...LOVES my 12 year old daughter. I thought he was 15 (dating is out of the question, young man)...but, no. CREEPY MCCREEPERSON is NINETEEN!!! (Dear God, thank you soooooo much for her beauty, but even more so for her SPEED!). Run Reilly, Runnnnnn!!!
7). The tree frog that has been squawking at 730 pm every night from some unidentifiable location inside our home jumped and squawked out of my "green" grocery bags onto another customer! SCREAMY, and her friend SCREAMIER, freaked out, I thought, justifiably, from a tree frog jumping on them at Aldi. Oh no, never that simple. They had to contain him and make sure he was okay and give him some water and put him outside in the grass, and they were deeply offended by my insensitivity to....ANIMALS. Oh buoy. Enjoy the REPTILE, laydeeeze. So glad that croaker is gone!
8). Got home, kids emptied my over budget groceries, BBD making supper, and I....jumped into the pool....with...all my clothes ON! The pool water was 95 degrees. Why waste a shower? Jake came careening from inside to ask me if I was "drunk or....on somethin'?" No and no. Recurring theme and foreshadowing here - LAKE COUNTY, AUGUST.
9). Aahhhhh. Most excited when BBD proposed, "Wanna go on a nighttime boat ride?" Heck ya! Woohoo! Some of my most favoritest of redneck peeps - eight boats wide, having an amazing time, singing my favorite songs, two kids safe at home, close enough I could swim home if need be, but no, I wouldn't need to...
40 minutes later.....
THUD
Cell phones start blowing up.
Emergency disembarkation.
10). Run Reilly Run is vomiting, has a severe headache above and behind her left eye, you know, the head and the eye from the Ginormous Skull Fracture Episode of 2010? Wait, what? You "bumped" heads with Porter at PE on THURSDAY as you both went for a soccer header? Wait, what? You don't remember what happened after that? Wait, what? And 20 minutes later you commenced a 5k atop the highest hill in Clermont in LAKE COUNTY, AUGUST????? What was yesterday? You don't remember? Reilly, how many eyes do I have? "Three?" Correct. I just sprouted a third eyeball.
BLESSEDLY.......
Our neighbors are an RN and a Paramedic. They came over in their Jammies.
My hard headed and soft brained daughter will live to see another day.
Mild concussion? Probably.
Headache at the old injury site? Expected.
Running 10 miles in two days after a "double" soccer header? Stupid.
Running tomorrow? Um, No.
Dehydrated? LAKE COUNTY, AUGUST
It's 3:30 A.M. and I am still going. Waking DOUBLEHEADER up every hour or so just to be safe.
Heather Fallon's Humira treatments are.....WORKING.
Without them - my 24 hours would have ended at Burgercraft.
God is good. All the time.
Wow. Trying to chill after a 24 hour marathon.
1).BBD returned after a week of building House of Waffle and asked me to
Lunch date at Burgercraft. (GO TO THERE, my friends. Their fries are worth a drive from Titusville to Clermont.)
2). Agonizing Budgetary Meeting of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. Ugh.
3). 5 super awesome and beautiful Tween and Teen young ladies with long, long legs and long, long, long, flowing hair descended upon our domicile to run their daily dose of 5 miles in 117 degree heat index (aka AUGUST: LAKE COUNTY) in the cross country terrain that is the woods behind us and the lake in front. LOVE THOSE GIRLS!!!
4). Bumpy readjustment to Big Bad Dad being home and uber disappointment that we couldn't "watch" our boy pitch last night but could only wait for the box scores to refresh every 90 seconds. Whew! Shouldn't have doubted #61yankee. #shanegreenegrewupinmydriveway
4). Pizza for breakfast, BBD played in the garage with Janet's innards all day while all my awesome housecleaning was leveled by kids and cats and dog and cats and kids. #soundslikelifetome
5). 4 hour solo attack on 3 grocery stores in an attempt to meet our new food budget. Unsuccessful - I went over by $7.36. I need to be sent back to TCCO Cost Camp Meridith Simeone!
6). The Tween has another suitor besides The Tweenaged DREAMY! An overly friendly #whereshoppingisapleasure employee...LOVES my 12 year old daughter. I thought he was 15 (dating is out of the question, young man)...but, no. CREEPY MCCREEPERSON is NINETEEN!!! (Dear God, thank you soooooo much for her beauty, but even more so for her SPEED!). Run Reilly, Runnnnnn!!!
7). The tree frog that has been squawking at 730 pm every night from some unidentifiable location inside our home jumped and squawked out of my "green" grocery bags onto another customer! SCREAMY, and her friend SCREAMIER, freaked out, I thought, justifiably, from a tree frog jumping on them at Aldi. Oh no, never that simple. They had to contain him and make sure he was okay and give him some water and put him outside in the grass, and they were deeply offended by my insensitivity to....ANIMALS. Oh buoy. Enjoy the REPTILE, laydeeeze. So glad that croaker is gone!
8). Got home, kids emptied my over budget groceries, BBD making supper, and I....jumped into the pool....with...all my clothes ON! The pool water was 95 degrees. Why waste a shower? Jake came careening from inside to ask me if I was "drunk or....on somethin'?" No and no. Recurring theme and foreshadowing here - LAKE COUNTY, AUGUST.
9). Aahhhhh. Most excited when BBD proposed, "Wanna go on a nighttime boat ride?" Heck ya! Woohoo! Some of my most favoritest of redneck peeps - eight boats wide, having an amazing time, singing my favorite songs, two kids safe at home, close enough I could swim home if need be, but no, I wouldn't need to...
40 minutes later.....
THUD
Cell phones start blowing up.
Emergency disembarkation.
10). Run Reilly Run is vomiting, has a severe headache above and behind her left eye, you know, the head and the eye from the Ginormous Skull Fracture Episode of 2010? Wait, what? You "bumped" heads with Porter at PE on THURSDAY as you both went for a soccer header? Wait, what? You don't remember what happened after that? Wait, what? And 20 minutes later you commenced a 5k atop the highest hill in Clermont in LAKE COUNTY, AUGUST????? What was yesterday? You don't remember? Reilly, how many eyes do I have? "Three?" Correct. I just sprouted a third eyeball.
BLESSEDLY.......
Our neighbors are an RN and a Paramedic. They came over in their Jammies.
My hard headed and soft brained daughter will live to see another day.
Mild concussion? Probably.
Headache at the old injury site? Expected.
Running 10 miles in two days after a "double" soccer header? Stupid.
Running tomorrow? Um, No.
Dehydrated? LAKE COUNTY, AUGUST
It's 3:30 A.M. and I am still going. Waking DOUBLEHEADER up every hour or so just to be safe.
Heather Fallon's Humira treatments are.....WORKING.
Without them - my 24 hours would have ended at Burgercraft.
God is good. All the time.
Tuesday, December 10, 2013
Sunday, November 3, 2013
Hurdles
Yesterday's Cross Country meet was the Florida State Championships for Middle Schoolers, grades 6-8. There were HUNDREDS of kids in each race. ALL of Reilly's teammates did fantastic...one girl placed 12th in State, and one boy placed 8th! But the whole team is headed to Athens, Georgia for NATIONALS (!) on December 5-6. When we made the family decision in January for Reilly to try to get accepted to Real Life Christian Academy and forego public middle school, we had no idea where the journey would take us. Reilly had to jump over a bunch of really high hurdles to meet their requirements. And all four of us had to not just physically and emotionally commit to this new way of life, but the financial engagement was more than a commitment, it was going to be a burden. Explaining the new outflow of funds to Jake was a pretty hard sell. But as Reilly cleared hurdle after hurdle, as the finish line towards enrollment was in sight, no member of Team Fallon ever looked back.
It is now November. Reilly just finished her first quarter as a "Raptor". And what a first quarter it has been. Academically, she has conquered the more challenging curriculum and overcome the higher grading scale, earning a 3.83 on her first report card. I had conferences with all of her teachers last week, and ALL five of them could not have sung higher praises. Every teacher told me that they could not find one single area for improvement. In fact one of them told me, "She's my favorite student of all the classes. I know I shouldn't say that, but I can't lie. Her AVERAGE is 100! I absolutely LOVE her!" When I suggested that perhaps Reilly wasn't being challenged enough, and that maybe we should consider giving her additional or more difficult assignments (even though I see her putting in several hours of homework every night including weekends), the teacher actually SCOLDED me, saying, "Mrs. Fallon! Did you hear what I said? She AVERAGES 100! Which means she is PERFECT! We don't need to do anything more, she is meeting AND exceeding all benchmarks!" When I pushed the issue a bit by again remarking that extra work should be a consideration, I was scolded yet again by the teacher who said, "Mrs. Fallon! Do you have any idea how HARD my tests are?" Sheepishly I replied, " Ummmm.....no?" Then came the tongue lashing. "They are VERY difficult. Reilly has the highest grade of all my classes. It is rare for any teacher to see a student perform with ZERO mistakes, but she is doing it, and I am not about to mess with what I view to be PERFECTION." I gave up. After all, the teachers are the professionals, I'm just a Mom. The teacher told me to go home and ask Reilly how hard the tests were. So when I got home, I asked Reilly if the tests in this particular subject were indeed as hard as her teacher indicated, Reilly sighed and told me, "Yeah Mom, they're pretty hard." Okay. Teacher 1 - Mom 0.
And now, Team Fallon's biggest hurdle is yet to come.
Billy Fallon was diagnosed with leukemia on November 1, 2013. As of now, that is all we know. We know we are in for some high, high hurdles. But we are locked, loaded and ready. And inspired by the miraculous survival of four of our best friends from a plane crash a week ago. Bring it on, cancer. Team Fallon is ready for battle once again.
Wednesday, October 30, 2013
Gratitude
~
As I reflect on the events of the past three days, the devastating plane crash involving four of my dearest friends, I've sadly realized that the last words I said to one of them were pretty nasty snark. College football related snark, but unGodly snark nonetheless. My friend is still alive, but the thought that those may have been the last words he ever heard from me have hit me pretty hard.
And then I think of the other three surviving friends. In the 13+ years since I married into this "family of friends", I'm painfully reminded of my own self-absorbed difficult entry into their fold. I couldn't understand the dynamics of their MONSTROUS "posse". But God being Awesome God, he lit the path for them to crash down my miles high walls, and break through my choking chains of self protection. But once they saw me stripped naked and fighting for my life in a hospital bed, for the very first of many times, well they had me. They had me at, "Hello". They had me at HELLO! Soon, Rebecca would become my matron of honor at my upcoming wedding. And soon, Scott would be my husband's groomsman. Their 3 year old, my ring bearer. Several years later, Rob and Jodi joined in Holy Matrimony. Our three families veered from here to there and back to here as we busied ourselves with investing in our marriages and raising our children. Some of us stopped working to stay home with their kids while others went back to work as their kids got older. Things weren't always peachy perfect. And most, if not all of the time, I was at the root and the heart of those issues, disputes, knockdown drag outs. I didn't know how to be a part of their Posse. My childhood was closed off to outsiders. i didn't know how to be a friend or have a friend. i didn't know how to fight, make-up, or share. My husband did his very best to encourage me that the Posse had no rules, that I just had to "be". I know that there whispers about Buddy Bill's Crazy Wife, and those whispers were 100% on point. Oh, I know I'm a whole barrel o'crazy monkeys, for sure.
But after disaster started to strike in our lives, I learned that I needed to break my own chains and slowly I began to engage. You name the catastrophe, and we lived it: heart attack, deaths of friends and family, surgery upon surgery upon surgery, failed business, scary, high risk pregnancies, rampant unemployment, freak near-fatal accidents, bankruptcy....and through it all, the Posse was there. ALWAYS. And the more that I reflect, the more that I realize how ridiculously obtuse I had been for far too long. Because this week, as I help to coordinate meal deliveries to the two families upon their return home, send a recliner to those with broken backs, loan my large and comfortable SUV for the purpose of bringing the wounded home, plan to be a daily home healthcare aide for Rebecca whilst she convalesces.....I now know that these aren't just Billy's friends who came with the marriage, like it or not. I can now affirm, beyond a reasonable doubt, that Rob, Scott, Rebecca, and Jodi Boyatt are now just as much my friends as they are my husband's. I deeply regret that it took an accident of this magnitude, a near fatal tragedy of gargantuan proportions, for me to see the light, the truth, and the way. These are GOOD people. There is nothing that any of them wouldn't do for ANYONE, let alone me, that stubborn, obstinate wife of Buddy Bill. I love you Rob, Jodi, Scott, Rebecca, and all of your children. Any and all of you are welcome at my home anytime. I am deeply sorry that it took 13 years and a calamity for me to say those words to you. Oh, and one more thing.....thanks for letting me into your Posse. I can't imagine Team Fallon without Boyatts in our lives.
~
As I reflect on the events of the past three days, the devastating plane crash involving four of my dearest friends, I've sadly realized that the last words I said to one of them were pretty nasty snark. College football related snark, but unGodly snark nonetheless. My friend is still alive, but the thought that those may have been the last words he ever heard from me have hit me pretty hard.
And then I think of the other three surviving friends. In the 13+ years since I married into this "family of friends", I'm painfully reminded of my own self-absorbed difficult entry into their fold. I couldn't understand the dynamics of their MONSTROUS "posse". But God being Awesome God, he lit the path for them to crash down my miles high walls, and break through my choking chains of self protection. But once they saw me stripped naked and fighting for my life in a hospital bed, for the very first of many times, well they had me. They had me at, "Hello". They had me at HELLO! Soon, Rebecca would become my matron of honor at my upcoming wedding. And soon, Scott would be my husband's groomsman. Their 3 year old, my ring bearer. Several years later, Rob and Jodi joined in Holy Matrimony. Our three families veered from here to there and back to here as we busied ourselves with investing in our marriages and raising our children. Some of us stopped working to stay home with their kids while others went back to work as their kids got older. Things weren't always peachy perfect. And most, if not all of the time, I was at the root and the heart of those issues, disputes, knockdown drag outs. I didn't know how to be a part of their Posse. My childhood was closed off to outsiders. i didn't know how to be a friend or have a friend. i didn't know how to fight, make-up, or share. My husband did his very best to encourage me that the Posse had no rules, that I just had to "be". I know that there whispers about Buddy Bill's Crazy Wife, and those whispers were 100% on point. Oh, I know I'm a whole barrel o'crazy monkeys, for sure.
But after disaster started to strike in our lives, I learned that I needed to break my own chains and slowly I began to engage. You name the catastrophe, and we lived it: heart attack, deaths of friends and family, surgery upon surgery upon surgery, failed business, scary, high risk pregnancies, rampant unemployment, freak near-fatal accidents, bankruptcy....and through it all, the Posse was there. ALWAYS. And the more that I reflect, the more that I realize how ridiculously obtuse I had been for far too long. Because this week, as I help to coordinate meal deliveries to the two families upon their return home, send a recliner to those with broken backs, loan my large and comfortable SUV for the purpose of bringing the wounded home, plan to be a daily home healthcare aide for Rebecca whilst she convalesces.....I now know that these aren't just Billy's friends who came with the marriage, like it or not. I can now affirm, beyond a reasonable doubt, that Rob, Scott, Rebecca, and Jodi Boyatt are now just as much my friends as they are my husband's. I deeply regret that it took an accident of this magnitude, a near fatal tragedy of gargantuan proportions, for me to see the light, the truth, and the way. These are GOOD people. There is nothing that any of them wouldn't do for ANYONE, let alone me, that stubborn, obstinate wife of Buddy Bill. I love you Rob, Jodi, Scott, Rebecca, and all of your children. Any and all of you are welcome at my home anytime. I am deeply sorry that it took 13 years and a calamity for me to say those words to you. Oh, and one more thing.....thanks for letting me into your Posse. I can't imagine Team Fallon without Boyatts in our lives.
~
Sunday, March 24, 2013
Seasons
~
"There is a time for everything, and a season for activity under the heavens." - Ecclesiastes 3:1
So.
For every time there is a season.
I know all about seasons.
If you've followed the telling of my family's journey, then you know that we've run the gamut of 'seasons'.
Weakness.
Strength.
Death.
Grief.
Joy.
Financial despair.
Unemployment.
Recovery.
We spent four years in what I refer to as the 'desert'. We resided in a very dry, barren place for a very long time. No work existed for my husband. My illness was raging. People died. We nearly lost our home. Our marriage was set to a pattern of test...re-test....test....re-test. Yet as difficult as the period was, so many lessons were gleaned from our time in the desert.
But which lesson was most important?
That ya gotta have faith?
That love conquers all?
That His love never fails?
That to everything there is a season?
I dunno which one was 'most' important. They were all important, and God knew that our time in the desert was temporary, yet necessary. And the same God who delivered Moses and His people out of slavery, so He delivered THIS family out of the desert.
We are now harvesting. Barren and arid no more, we are reaping.
YES!
My husband is thriving, because he is WORKING!
Our home is SAFE.
Though ailing, I am still HERE.
Reilly and Jake, are....well....Reilly and Jake! Bringing joy and love to all those who know them.
Very recently, I've gleefully watched my daughter take a turn toward Jesus! Woohoo! Heckfire that's a harvest like no other!
And my awesome husband has become a man of God in ways I never thought possible. Score!
In the past six months, our season has changed.
But today, I realized that it's possible to be 'in' more than one season at a time.
Not just figuratively but literally.
Lemme explain.
I live in Florida. Recently, we were joyfully blessed with an extended visit from my mother in law. Grandma was excited to be here. And she really enjoyed the weather. Especially since the Great White North has been unusually White this year. Grandma LOVES to be outside. Every day, she would go outside and sweep the dead oak leaves from the driveway.
Huh?
It's spring, right?
Yep!
Um, why are there dead leaves in your driveway, Rojo?
BECAUSE.....in Florida......we have fall in....the....SPRING!
Huh?
Yep.
Even though my centuries old Live Oak trees continue to shred their MILLIONS upon MILLIONS of dead leaves, my car is covered with pollen.
Strawberries are in season.
Oranges are blossoming.
The Corn Festival approaches.
Yet the shedding of dead foilage continues.
So, yeah, we are in two 'real' seasons at once, as I explained to Grandma. It's unusual, sure.
And now I'm finding myself in more than one figurative season.
Strength and Weakness.
Yeah, this is a recurring theme for me, but we've got a new twist, so hang with me, k?
I've been amped lately. Fighting the good fight. Having discovered what I believe to be my true purpose, I took the ball and ran with it. I've gotten plugged in at church, HELPING. I've been spending more time at my children's school, HELPING. I finally (!) accepted, after five long years, that I'm not meant to be a provider in this family, but a HELPMATE. God knew that I would not choose to stop working for the benefit of my family, so He made it happen, whether I liked it or not. Well, I did NOT like it, Sam I Am. AT ALL. Yet.....and it has taken me far too long to see this, to realize it, to accept it and to respect it, because I am...shockingly....stubborn as a mule, BUT...I now know that my husband's life, my children's life, and ultimately MY life are all better because I no longer work. I wish that my broken body would allow me to do more HELPING, but alas, as I conveyed to someone trying in vain to push me to do more, I do what I can. And I'm doing more than 'enough'. I believe that God is satisfied with me there.
Because...........
Of the weakness. I'm suffering physically. Gosh I don't like to. And I realllllllly don't like talking about it. Because it is chronic, and because it sucks, and because it will not go away. I've got some big hurdles to leap soon. And I don't want to jump.
But worse than me and my own corner on agony, someone else is suffering.
Captain Jake Sparrow.
Ouch. I know. It hurts me too. More than you can know.
My little pirate can be the Kryptonite to my Superman, believe me.
Yet he also melts my heart like no other.
A wise man once told me, "Boys love their Mamas". Wow. No truer words have ever been said.
Jake ADORES me. The feeling is, of course, mutual.
And right now, I ACHE for him.
The Sparrow is sick. I'm not going to aggrandize this. He isn't going to die. He doesn't have cancer and no, I'm not starting a website or Facebook page for people to check in daily. Yes, he is ill. Yes, it is serious. Yes, of course he needs prayer. His illness has a name, and it has a treatment, and it has a cause. We have isolated two of those three. It's Eosnophilic Esophagitis, and the treatment is dietary changes with medicine. But we are struggling to determine what food or foods are affecting him. He has stopped growing. He has been classified as "failure to thrive". You darn sure wouldn't know it if you spend any time with him, as he probably burns eighty THOUSAND calories a day, but 'tis true.
But he is suffering. This I know to be true. And while I am with him through this, every single step of the way, I am suffering right along with him. It hurts to watch someone you love suffer. I can't say this for certain, but I really think it's worse for a parent to experience their child's anguish. It just plain SUCKS.
In time, Jake will be okay. We don't know when, but we're told that he will. I'm counting on the Big Man Upstairs to make it so. Cuz I gotta have faith. I got nothing else on this one. Brand new territory here.
So.
We are reaping as we sow.
Two Swords and Reilly the Red are at the top of their respective ladders, picking the fruit.
Me and Sparrow are in the trenches, digging and disseminating.
To everything there is a season.
And God is surely with us, for He is most certainly NOT against us.
We are united as a family, and we are pointing to Him. He'll bring us through.
Cuz that's what He does.
He always has.
~
"There is a time for everything, and a season for activity under the heavens." - Ecclesiastes 3:1
So.
For every time there is a season.
I know all about seasons.
If you've followed the telling of my family's journey, then you know that we've run the gamut of 'seasons'.
Weakness.
Strength.
Death.
Grief.
Joy.
Financial despair.
Unemployment.
Recovery.
We spent four years in what I refer to as the 'desert'. We resided in a very dry, barren place for a very long time. No work existed for my husband. My illness was raging. People died. We nearly lost our home. Our marriage was set to a pattern of test...re-test....test....re-test. Yet as difficult as the period was, so many lessons were gleaned from our time in the desert.
But which lesson was most important?
That ya gotta have faith?
That love conquers all?
That His love never fails?
That to everything there is a season?
I dunno which one was 'most' important. They were all important, and God knew that our time in the desert was temporary, yet necessary. And the same God who delivered Moses and His people out of slavery, so He delivered THIS family out of the desert.
We are now harvesting. Barren and arid no more, we are reaping.
YES!
My husband is thriving, because he is WORKING!
Our home is SAFE.
Though ailing, I am still HERE.
Reilly and Jake, are....well....Reilly and Jake! Bringing joy and love to all those who know them.
Very recently, I've gleefully watched my daughter take a turn toward Jesus! Woohoo! Heckfire that's a harvest like no other!
And my awesome husband has become a man of God in ways I never thought possible. Score!
In the past six months, our season has changed.
But today, I realized that it's possible to be 'in' more than one season at a time.
Not just figuratively but literally.
Lemme explain.
I live in Florida. Recently, we were joyfully blessed with an extended visit from my mother in law. Grandma was excited to be here. And she really enjoyed the weather. Especially since the Great White North has been unusually White this year. Grandma LOVES to be outside. Every day, she would go outside and sweep the dead oak leaves from the driveway.
Huh?
It's spring, right?
Yep!
Um, why are there dead leaves in your driveway, Rojo?
BECAUSE.....in Florida......we have fall in....the....SPRING!
Huh?
Yep.
Even though my centuries old Live Oak trees continue to shred their MILLIONS upon MILLIONS of dead leaves, my car is covered with pollen.
Strawberries are in season.
Oranges are blossoming.
The Corn Festival approaches.
Yet the shedding of dead foilage continues.
So, yeah, we are in two 'real' seasons at once, as I explained to Grandma. It's unusual, sure.
And now I'm finding myself in more than one figurative season.
Strength and Weakness.
Yeah, this is a recurring theme for me, but we've got a new twist, so hang with me, k?
I've been amped lately. Fighting the good fight. Having discovered what I believe to be my true purpose, I took the ball and ran with it. I've gotten plugged in at church, HELPING. I've been spending more time at my children's school, HELPING. I finally (!) accepted, after five long years, that I'm not meant to be a provider in this family, but a HELPMATE. God knew that I would not choose to stop working for the benefit of my family, so He made it happen, whether I liked it or not. Well, I did NOT like it, Sam I Am. AT ALL. Yet.....and it has taken me far too long to see this, to realize it, to accept it and to respect it, because I am...shockingly....stubborn as a mule, BUT...I now know that my husband's life, my children's life, and ultimately MY life are all better because I no longer work. I wish that my broken body would allow me to do more HELPING, but alas, as I conveyed to someone trying in vain to push me to do more, I do what I can. And I'm doing more than 'enough'. I believe that God is satisfied with me there.
Because...........
Of the weakness. I'm suffering physically. Gosh I don't like to. And I realllllllly don't like talking about it. Because it is chronic, and because it sucks, and because it will not go away. I've got some big hurdles to leap soon. And I don't want to jump.
But worse than me and my own corner on agony, someone else is suffering.
Captain Jake Sparrow.
Ouch. I know. It hurts me too. More than you can know.
My little pirate can be the Kryptonite to my Superman, believe me.
Yet he also melts my heart like no other.
A wise man once told me, "Boys love their Mamas". Wow. No truer words have ever been said.
Jake ADORES me. The feeling is, of course, mutual.
And right now, I ACHE for him.
The Sparrow is sick. I'm not going to aggrandize this. He isn't going to die. He doesn't have cancer and no, I'm not starting a website or Facebook page for people to check in daily. Yes, he is ill. Yes, it is serious. Yes, of course he needs prayer. His illness has a name, and it has a treatment, and it has a cause. We have isolated two of those three. It's Eosnophilic Esophagitis, and the treatment is dietary changes with medicine. But we are struggling to determine what food or foods are affecting him. He has stopped growing. He has been classified as "failure to thrive". You darn sure wouldn't know it if you spend any time with him, as he probably burns eighty THOUSAND calories a day, but 'tis true.
But he is suffering. This I know to be true. And while I am with him through this, every single step of the way, I am suffering right along with him. It hurts to watch someone you love suffer. I can't say this for certain, but I really think it's worse for a parent to experience their child's anguish. It just plain SUCKS.
In time, Jake will be okay. We don't know when, but we're told that he will. I'm counting on the Big Man Upstairs to make it so. Cuz I gotta have faith. I got nothing else on this one. Brand new territory here.
So.
We are reaping as we sow.
Two Swords and Reilly the Red are at the top of their respective ladders, picking the fruit.
Me and Sparrow are in the trenches, digging and disseminating.
To everything there is a season.
And God is surely with us, for He is most certainly NOT against us.
We are united as a family, and we are pointing to Him. He'll bring us through.
Cuz that's what He does.
He always has.
~
Friday, March 8, 2013
And, He...Walks with me and He Talks with me...
~
So.
It's 113am.
If you have insomnia, you might as well do something productive other than just lay there, agitated to no end by spousal snoring or the bothersome sound of the pool pump which suddenly sounds frighteningly expensive.
And, if you have a gift, USE it.
That's what He just told me, anyhow.
So I traipsed my sleep-deprived self into the living room to lay it all bare once again.
My soul, that is.
I had an interesting day today.
I spent the better part of it in primitive mother mode.
Protecting and defending the rights and needs of one of my young pirates. It doesn't require a differential equation, or even fifth grade math to deduce as to which pirate this most likely was...
Irrelevant really.
The bigger story is Abraham.
Huh?
I know.
I write in concentric circles most of the time.
But then again, it's in the wee hours of the morning and I'm really tired but my racing mind and my aching, broken, sick body will not allow me respite.
Back to my primitive mothering moment and my "aha!' Abraham moment....
For the past five months, I have really gotten INTO The Bible.
IN...to....The Bible.
Not just flipping from here to there.
Not looking up "Suffering" or "Grieving" or "Weakness" in an online Concordance, and then jumping off the proverbial (!) diving board into wherever the passage takes me.
Nope.
I've been PLUNGING into the Bible.
It all started with James.
The Book of James, not my friend James. Although the Book of James certainly has become near and dear to my heart after I plundered through it.
Our new church called the journey through James: "Faith on Fire". Boy, they weren't kidding! As we trekked through James, my family's faith caught fire as if from the burning bush. Whoa. It was a crazy, crazy time, those six - eight weeks were. We got closer to each other, we got nearer to God, we gained ground in our lives, we lost people FROM our lives.... Yeah. Crazy stuff. Ultimately all good, and as always, all God.
So.
After James, I started to dive deeper.
Then...
Our church embarked on the 31 week series entitled "The Story". It's a book, which encapsulates about 40% of the Bible and tells "the story" of God's word in a novel-like, historical fashion.
MY kind of book.
I love me some reality based fiction, or historical thrillers.
Well heckfire, "The Story" has it all.
So.
I heard the first sermon, bought the book and went home and read the first chapter.
THUD.
That was the sound of the pounding in my head.
I didn't like the book.
Blasphemy!
Oops.
I mean....I didn't particularly care for the way in which the book was framing the Bible.
I got lost.
In Week One.
In Genesis.
Ugh.
The part of the Bible I've always struggled with....The Old Testament.
But don't a whole bunch of us sometimes struggle with parts of the Word? Not just figuratively by literally?
Heckfire, I struggle every single minute of every single day. From the moment my feet hit the floor (and a whole bunch of days I don't even make it out of bed) I have already screwed up, someway, somehow. Admittedly and ashamedly. Coulda, shoulda, woulda, but....didn't.
That's what I do.
It's called...wait for it....
S I N
Yep.
All day long, all the time.
But I digress.
Back to "The Story".
I trudged through the first two chapters, aka "weeks" in the study.
I casually mentioned to Two Swords, "I don't like the way they have written this.....it's just as hard for me to wrap my head around as the 'regular' Bible is.....I had high hopes that this would help me with studying the Bible more."
And then a funny thing happened on the way to the movies.....
Sorta.
We saw a trailer for "The Bible", a miniseries about, well, THE BIBLE!, produced by the husband and wife team of Mark Burnett (of Survivor fame) and Roma Downey (of awesome angelic Irish actress fame).
Me and Two Swords set our mental clocks and the DVR, just in case we forgot.
We didn't forget.
God wouldn't let us!
Last Sunday, we watched the first two hour segment of "The Bible" on the History Channel. And those two hours got me almost caught up in "The Story".
But a funny thing happened on the way to the story.....
Abraham happened.
Again, admittedly, and ashamedly, I'm not an Abraham addict. Or scholar. I never really 'got' him.
But WHOA, a funny thing happened on the way to the sacrifice.
Firstly, I was pretty riveted to the screen as the 'story' unfolded. Being the non-scholar of Bible lore that I am, I was enjoying the show as I was learning the parts of the Bible which were previously 'hard' for me for one reason or another.
But then.....
Abraham took his son Isaac for a walk. Or so thought Isaac.
I knew this story. I've known this story for a very long time.
And I have NEVER LIKED THIS STORY! AT ALL!
In fact, during commercials before the airing, I mentioned to my husband, "I'm gonna have a real hard time with the sacrificing of Isaac scene, I'll tell you that right now."
To wit my husband replied, "But you KNOW how it ends!"
"Yeah", I replied. "But I still don't like it."
"Weirdo" he correctly deduced as he shook his head from side to side.
Back to Abraham....
So, God instructs Abraham to trust Him. And Abraham is severely tested by God. God tells Abraham to bind up Isaac, and to sacrifice the life of his SON (!) to prove to God that Abraham truly trusts and loves God.
I did NOT want to watch this!
But I did.
But a funny thing happened....
For the first time in the gazillion times I've visited this particularly unsettling story, I had one of my 'epiphanies'.
You see, I'm a doubter by nature, a psychologist by degree, a Christian by life, a mother by design.
I've always doubted that a loving God WOULD ask a parent, a father, a mother....to kill their only child to please God.
And the psychology student in me recalls psychos in real life, like Andrea Yates, who claimed that God told her to drown her five children in the bathtub, one by one, even chasing some of the older ones through the house until the deed was finally done.
The Christian in me says, "Well, maybe God WAS speaking to Andrea Yates, just like He spoke to Abraham, and maybe only God will know if Andrea Yates is mentally ill or if she was being tested as well."
But then the mother in me had the final say.
NO WAY.
Not, no way that God had a chat with Andrea Yates beforehand.
Not that.
NO WAY.
There is NO WAY that I, yours truly, could ever, WOULD ever, purposely bring harm and certain death to my child.
I COULD NOT DO IT.
But....
How does that translate to my opinion of Abraham?
He's a better man than I'll ever be.
Huh?
WHAT?
Yep.
I finally got it.
I finally understood Abraham.
I finally understood that while I KNOW God, and I HEAR God, and I SEE the works of God, and I DO what God wants me to do 99% of the time that I'm able to discern that it really is HIM who speaks to me from within.......
well....
I finally understood that there is no way I would follow an instruction from God to kill my own child to prove my loyalty and love and trust.
Nope.
I can say, beyond a reasonable doubt....no, I can say with the greatest degree of absolute certainty.....I would NEVER hurt my own child, even if God presented Himself in such a way that I knew with the greatest degree of certainty that He was in fact, God, and not a bunch of jumbled voices in the crazy train that is my head sometimes.
So...
Abraham.
Dude.
I GET you now!
I UNDERSTAND, in a way that I did not before, in a way that perhaps I was incapable of grasping at a different time in my life....
That even though I can't FATHOM killing my own flesh and blood to please God, I can barely, just barely, begin to understand the personal hell that Abraham endured while wrestling with his decision, while preparing his precious son for slaughter, all the while, believing, hoping, praying....that God would make it all better.
And indeed, God did.
Isaac lived. And so did Abraham. And God's people were blessed for ages upon ages because of Abraham's testament of faith.
Faith on FIRE.
I trust God.
I know God.
I love God.
But not like Abraham did.
Admittedly and ashamedly, I love my children more than I love my God.
Wow.
I just said that OUT LOUD, and typed it for ALL THE WORLD to see.
My deepest, darkest, desolate secret.
God walks with me.
God talks with me.
But not like He did with Abraham.
But now?
He's talking to me THROUGH Abraham.
A dude in the Bible who I never really fully grasped before this week.
A greater, better, braver dude of God than I could ever aspire to be.
A funny thing happened on the way to the New Testatment....
I'm learning a whole bunch more about God.
And even more powerful than that...
I'm learning how much I'm lacking in the "Trusting God" department.
Just when I thought my Faith was on FIRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEE!
God said.....HA!
Blessedly, for me, there's more.
So....
much.....
more...............
So.
It's 113am.
If you have insomnia, you might as well do something productive other than just lay there, agitated to no end by spousal snoring or the bothersome sound of the pool pump which suddenly sounds frighteningly expensive.
And, if you have a gift, USE it.
That's what He just told me, anyhow.
So I traipsed my sleep-deprived self into the living room to lay it all bare once again.
My soul, that is.
I had an interesting day today.
I spent the better part of it in primitive mother mode.
Protecting and defending the rights and needs of one of my young pirates. It doesn't require a differential equation, or even fifth grade math to deduce as to which pirate this most likely was...
Irrelevant really.
The bigger story is Abraham.
Huh?
I know.
I write in concentric circles most of the time.
But then again, it's in the wee hours of the morning and I'm really tired but my racing mind and my aching, broken, sick body will not allow me respite.
Back to my primitive mothering moment and my "aha!' Abraham moment....
For the past five months, I have really gotten INTO The Bible.
IN...to....The Bible.
Not just flipping from here to there.
Not looking up "Suffering" or "Grieving" or "Weakness" in an online Concordance, and then jumping off the proverbial (!) diving board into wherever the passage takes me.
Nope.
I've been PLUNGING into the Bible.
It all started with James.
The Book of James, not my friend James. Although the Book of James certainly has become near and dear to my heart after I plundered through it.
Our new church called the journey through James: "Faith on Fire". Boy, they weren't kidding! As we trekked through James, my family's faith caught fire as if from the burning bush. Whoa. It was a crazy, crazy time, those six - eight weeks were. We got closer to each other, we got nearer to God, we gained ground in our lives, we lost people FROM our lives.... Yeah. Crazy stuff. Ultimately all good, and as always, all God.
So.
After James, I started to dive deeper.
Then...
Our church embarked on the 31 week series entitled "The Story". It's a book, which encapsulates about 40% of the Bible and tells "the story" of God's word in a novel-like, historical fashion.
MY kind of book.
I love me some reality based fiction, or historical thrillers.
Well heckfire, "The Story" has it all.
So.
I heard the first sermon, bought the book and went home and read the first chapter.
THUD.
That was the sound of the pounding in my head.
I didn't like the book.
Blasphemy!
Oops.
I mean....I didn't particularly care for the way in which the book was framing the Bible.
I got lost.
In Week One.
In Genesis.
Ugh.
The part of the Bible I've always struggled with....The Old Testament.
But don't a whole bunch of us sometimes struggle with parts of the Word? Not just figuratively by literally?
Heckfire, I struggle every single minute of every single day. From the moment my feet hit the floor (and a whole bunch of days I don't even make it out of bed) I have already screwed up, someway, somehow. Admittedly and ashamedly. Coulda, shoulda, woulda, but....didn't.
That's what I do.
It's called...wait for it....
S I N
Yep.
All day long, all the time.
But I digress.
Back to "The Story".
I trudged through the first two chapters, aka "weeks" in the study.
I casually mentioned to Two Swords, "I don't like the way they have written this.....it's just as hard for me to wrap my head around as the 'regular' Bible is.....I had high hopes that this would help me with studying the Bible more."
And then a funny thing happened on the way to the movies.....
Sorta.
We saw a trailer for "The Bible", a miniseries about, well, THE BIBLE!, produced by the husband and wife team of Mark Burnett (of Survivor fame) and Roma Downey (of awesome angelic Irish actress fame).
Me and Two Swords set our mental clocks and the DVR, just in case we forgot.
We didn't forget.
God wouldn't let us!
Last Sunday, we watched the first two hour segment of "The Bible" on the History Channel. And those two hours got me almost caught up in "The Story".
But a funny thing happened on the way to the story.....
Abraham happened.
Again, admittedly, and ashamedly, I'm not an Abraham addict. Or scholar. I never really 'got' him.
But WHOA, a funny thing happened on the way to the sacrifice.
Firstly, I was pretty riveted to the screen as the 'story' unfolded. Being the non-scholar of Bible lore that I am, I was enjoying the show as I was learning the parts of the Bible which were previously 'hard' for me for one reason or another.
But then.....
Abraham took his son Isaac for a walk. Or so thought Isaac.
I knew this story. I've known this story for a very long time.
And I have NEVER LIKED THIS STORY! AT ALL!
In fact, during commercials before the airing, I mentioned to my husband, "I'm gonna have a real hard time with the sacrificing of Isaac scene, I'll tell you that right now."
To wit my husband replied, "But you KNOW how it ends!"
"Yeah", I replied. "But I still don't like it."
"Weirdo" he correctly deduced as he shook his head from side to side.
Back to Abraham....
So, God instructs Abraham to trust Him. And Abraham is severely tested by God. God tells Abraham to bind up Isaac, and to sacrifice the life of his SON (!) to prove to God that Abraham truly trusts and loves God.
I did NOT want to watch this!
But I did.
But a funny thing happened....
For the first time in the gazillion times I've visited this particularly unsettling story, I had one of my 'epiphanies'.
You see, I'm a doubter by nature, a psychologist by degree, a Christian by life, a mother by design.
I've always doubted that a loving God WOULD ask a parent, a father, a mother....to kill their only child to please God.
And the psychology student in me recalls psychos in real life, like Andrea Yates, who claimed that God told her to drown her five children in the bathtub, one by one, even chasing some of the older ones through the house until the deed was finally done.
The Christian in me says, "Well, maybe God WAS speaking to Andrea Yates, just like He spoke to Abraham, and maybe only God will know if Andrea Yates is mentally ill or if she was being tested as well."
But then the mother in me had the final say.
NO WAY.
Not, no way that God had a chat with Andrea Yates beforehand.
Not that.
NO WAY.
There is NO WAY that I, yours truly, could ever, WOULD ever, purposely bring harm and certain death to my child.
I COULD NOT DO IT.
But....
How does that translate to my opinion of Abraham?
He's a better man than I'll ever be.
Huh?
WHAT?
Yep.
I finally got it.
I finally understood Abraham.
I finally understood that while I KNOW God, and I HEAR God, and I SEE the works of God, and I DO what God wants me to do 99% of the time that I'm able to discern that it really is HIM who speaks to me from within.......
well....
I finally understood that there is no way I would follow an instruction from God to kill my own child to prove my loyalty and love and trust.
Nope.
I can say, beyond a reasonable doubt....no, I can say with the greatest degree of absolute certainty.....I would NEVER hurt my own child, even if God presented Himself in such a way that I knew with the greatest degree of certainty that He was in fact, God, and not a bunch of jumbled voices in the crazy train that is my head sometimes.
So...
Abraham.
Dude.
I GET you now!
I UNDERSTAND, in a way that I did not before, in a way that perhaps I was incapable of grasping at a different time in my life....
That even though I can't FATHOM killing my own flesh and blood to please God, I can barely, just barely, begin to understand the personal hell that Abraham endured while wrestling with his decision, while preparing his precious son for slaughter, all the while, believing, hoping, praying....that God would make it all better.
And indeed, God did.
Isaac lived. And so did Abraham. And God's people were blessed for ages upon ages because of Abraham's testament of faith.
Faith on FIRE.
I trust God.
I know God.
I love God.
But not like Abraham did.
Admittedly and ashamedly, I love my children more than I love my God.
Wow.
I just said that OUT LOUD, and typed it for ALL THE WORLD to see.
My deepest, darkest, desolate secret.
God walks with me.
God talks with me.
But not like He did with Abraham.
But now?
He's talking to me THROUGH Abraham.
A dude in the Bible who I never really fully grasped before this week.
A greater, better, braver dude of God than I could ever aspire to be.
A funny thing happened on the way to the New Testatment....
I'm learning a whole bunch more about God.
And even more powerful than that...
I'm learning how much I'm lacking in the "Trusting God" department.
Just when I thought my Faith was on FIRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEE!
God said.....HA!
Blessedly, for me, there's more.
So....
much.....
more...............
Sunday, February 17, 2013
The MAN
~
My husband is a gear head.
He's all about cars.
ALL.
ABOUT.
CARS.
Like, if he had to choose between his Wife and his Jeep, well......yeah I'm pretty sure I know how that would go down.
And if he had to choose between his Jeep and college football? I think he might ask to be cut in half. And I'm totally serious. When he wastrolling courting me back in the day, he took me to my very first NASCAR race. He told me which driver I was going to follow (Dale Earnhardt, Jr.) and why (because he was a Dale Sr. fan, because Junior was a Rookie, and "I" was "his" Rookie, and then it would be easier for him to remember when AND I QUOTE "each of you came into the picture", and because it was the Budweiser car, and well, because he said so).
Yeah.
I raised an eyebrow, but went along for the ride. I had always been a sports fan, but I had never gotten into NASCAR before. I didn't understand how it was a 'sport' and, well, it was entirely TOO R-E-D-N-E-C-K for my hifalutin, sophisticated, educated, big word using, correct grammar using itself. I was quickly educated about restrictor plates, bump drafting, free air, Boogity Boogity Boogity....
So my first NASCAR race was February 18, 2001. It was the Daytona 500. Some of you may know where this is going....
Words can't do justice to the emotions I felt (and 100,000+ other people who were THERE) on that day. Billy had been a Sr. fan from the very beginning. To say he was his idol is an understatement. On that fateful day, Billy listened to Sr.'s chatter channel while I was "assigned" Junior's. After Tony Stewart's 20 car "Big One" pile-up, all the driveable cars were required to park it on the track while the wreckage was cleared. I soon learned this is called a "red-flag". We had excellent seats on the front-stretch, directly in front of the exit from Pit Road. Dale Sr. and his son Dale Jr. were parked side by side at the very front of the pack. Not much was happening while the tow trucks and ambulances did their jobs. I had my scanner headphones on. I will never forget, as long as I live, what I heard during that red-flag. Father and son were talking to each other.
Dale Earnhardt, Sr. said, "You're doing a real good job out here today, Dale."
His son, driving in his first Daytona 500 replied, "You are too....DADDY."
I immediately took my headphones off to tell Billy what I heard. He said, "Really? That is so cool!"
As a spectating sport fan, I had never quite experienced a moment like that before. I felt as if I was eavesdropping on a private conversation, a special moment between a father and son. I felt...special. I mean, how much more "involved" could I become as a fan? That was it for me! I really was enjoying the whole experience of that very long day thus far, our drivers were running 1-2, and I heard them cheer each other on towards the end of a long, hard race.
Before the checkered flag was dropped, I became NASCAR's newest rabid fan.
After Michael Waltrip crossed the finish line to win his first ever Daytona 500 with Junior a close second, Dale Earnhardt, Sr. was declared dead several hours later.
Yeah..
Those words that I heard on that scanner will ring in my ears forever. The way Dale Jr. said, "DADDY" actually sounded like "DIDDY" with his Carolina drawl.
My newlywed had lost his hero, or as he refers to him, "THE MAN", in a crash that looked so innocent. How could he have died when just an hour earlier there were NO fatalities nor injuries from a 20 car pile-up involving flying cars and fireballs?
But THE MAN who died? He died doing what he loved. In the presence of his wife and all of his children. Racing his own son to the finish line. Giving it all he could with all he had. Died instantly from his injuries, and did not suffer. Driving a super fast car, the man in black, number 3 for all the world to see, at his favorite and most successful track, the SuperBowl of NASCAR - the Daytona 500, surrounded by over one hundred THOUSAND fans. If there's a way to go, I'm pretty sure that Dale Earnhardt, Sr. would have picked that way if he had a chance.
I learned something pretty big that week. The death of this one race car driver caused millions upon millions of grown men to sob at the news of his death,calling in sick to work because they couldn't stop crying, glued to the television screen for hours upon hours of clips such as The Pass In The Grass from the 20 plus years of Dale Earnhardt racing.
He was indeed a legend.
I wish he and I had met sooner.
But I'll always remember the conversation on the scanner. Nothing can take that experience away from me. I'm just sad that my husband didn't get to hear it first hand.
My husband is a gear head.
He's all about cars.
ALL.
ABOUT.
CARS.
Like, if he had to choose between his Wife and his Jeep, well......yeah I'm pretty sure I know how that would go down.
And if he had to choose between his Jeep and college football? I think he might ask to be cut in half. And I'm totally serious. When he was
Yeah.
I raised an eyebrow, but went along for the ride. I had always been a sports fan, but I had never gotten into NASCAR before. I didn't understand how it was a 'sport' and, well, it was entirely TOO R-E-D-N-E-C-K for my hifalutin, sophisticated, educated, big word using, correct grammar using itself. I was quickly educated about restrictor plates, bump drafting, free air, Boogity Boogity Boogity....
So my first NASCAR race was February 18, 2001. It was the Daytona 500. Some of you may know where this is going....
Words can't do justice to the emotions I felt (and 100,000+ other people who were THERE) on that day. Billy had been a Sr. fan from the very beginning. To say he was his idol is an understatement. On that fateful day, Billy listened to Sr.'s chatter channel while I was "assigned" Junior's. After Tony Stewart's 20 car "Big One" pile-up, all the driveable cars were required to park it on the track while the wreckage was cleared. I soon learned this is called a "red-flag". We had excellent seats on the front-stretch, directly in front of the exit from Pit Road. Dale Sr. and his son Dale Jr. were parked side by side at the very front of the pack. Not much was happening while the tow trucks and ambulances did their jobs. I had my scanner headphones on. I will never forget, as long as I live, what I heard during that red-flag. Father and son were talking to each other.
Dale Earnhardt, Sr. said, "You're doing a real good job out here today, Dale."
His son, driving in his first Daytona 500 replied, "You are too....DADDY."
I immediately took my headphones off to tell Billy what I heard. He said, "Really? That is so cool!"
As a spectating sport fan, I had never quite experienced a moment like that before. I felt as if I was eavesdropping on a private conversation, a special moment between a father and son. I felt...special. I mean, how much more "involved" could I become as a fan? That was it for me! I really was enjoying the whole experience of that very long day thus far, our drivers were running 1-2, and I heard them cheer each other on towards the end of a long, hard race.
Before the checkered flag was dropped, I became NASCAR's newest rabid fan.
After Michael Waltrip crossed the finish line to win his first ever Daytona 500 with Junior a close second, Dale Earnhardt, Sr. was declared dead several hours later.
Yeah..
Those words that I heard on that scanner will ring in my ears forever. The way Dale Jr. said, "DADDY" actually sounded like "DIDDY" with his Carolina drawl.
My newlywed had lost his hero, or as he refers to him, "THE MAN", in a crash that looked so innocent. How could he have died when just an hour earlier there were NO fatalities nor injuries from a 20 car pile-up involving flying cars and fireballs?
But THE MAN who died? He died doing what he loved. In the presence of his wife and all of his children. Racing his own son to the finish line. Giving it all he could with all he had. Died instantly from his injuries, and did not suffer. Driving a super fast car, the man in black, number 3 for all the world to see, at his favorite and most successful track, the SuperBowl of NASCAR - the Daytona 500, surrounded by over one hundred THOUSAND fans. If there's a way to go, I'm pretty sure that Dale Earnhardt, Sr. would have picked that way if he had a chance.
I learned something pretty big that week. The death of this one race car driver caused millions upon millions of grown men to sob at the news of his death,calling in sick to work because they couldn't stop crying, glued to the television screen for hours upon hours of clips such as The Pass In The Grass from the 20 plus years of Dale Earnhardt racing.
He was indeed a legend.
I wish he and I had met sooner.
But I'll always remember the conversation on the scanner. Nothing can take that experience away from me. I'm just sad that my husband didn't get to hear it first hand.
Wednesday, January 9, 2013
Tuesday, December 18, 2012
Signs, Signs, Everywhere...SIGNS
~
So.
I don't know how y'all's day has gone so far, but lemme tell you about mine.
This morning, like most mornings, I sparred with Red and was outnegotiated by the Captain. Nothing new. The Pirates got on the school bus and went on their merry way. Done with being a stay at home Mom for t-minus 8 hours.
I took a shower and heard someone banging at the door. At 0800. Seriously? Hmmm. Got out of the shower, and no one was at the door. I opened the door and.....a very large box had arrived bearing Christmas gifts from West Virginia. Wow. Now that was nice. Awesome! Thank you!
Then I met up with a very dear friend, and prayed and broke bread after not seeing each other for a very long time. And God was the prime topic at breakfast. Said our goodbyes and off we went about our merry ways.
Went to my super awesome Doctor's office to pick up a form for theVampire, bloodwork. I had to wait a few minutes, so I tinkered with my smart phone, just checking in, seeing what's up on that ever present social media nonsense. Ouch. That hurt. Venom and hatred being spilled everywhere. Someone whom I have never met in real life typed words that actually HURT MY HEART. Wow. That's all I could think. Wow.
I got my form, and I headed on to my next stop.
Publix.
Where Shopping Is A Pleasure.
Except.....
God told me to take a RIGHT turn.
And I did.
Before I knew it, I was sitting in the administrative offices of the new church we have been attending and will soon become formal members of. I had no idea why I was there. Honestly. No clue. I just felt COMPELLED......CALLED TO ACTION.....
This church is a Mega church. 3,000 people go there. They have like 8 million pastors or something. 10% of our city goes there. It's big. It's even on TV. It's big, but it's real. And we have wondered, are we going to be just another 'number' here? Or will we BE ABLE to MATTER?
So I'm sitting on this leather couch talking to a woman I don't even know, and she is trying to assess my NEEDS. I insisted I had none. Really. I mean, we're good. We're awesome. We're on fire for Jesus right now. Big changes in our lives. Big. Radical. But RIGHT.
So she keeps talking to me, quizzically. I told her it would take me 20 years to share my 42 years of life with her, but hey, I'm writing a book, and you can read about it then. It will be finished soon. But I gave her a few clues. Been here, done this. Been there, done that. Have this, don't have that. God said this, God told me that.
She asks me if I'm interested in being a prayer helper at the end of each service, offering prayers to people in need.
No.
I knew that wasn't it.
And I told her so.
Nope. That's not what God wants me to do.
She pondered that perhaps it wasn't yet time for me to act. Perhaps I was still in a season of listening.
Nope.
I'm here, Lady. I don't know why, but there's like a whole bunch of people in this building and we gotta get it figured out RIGHT NOW. Because.....in my 'old' church....well, I used to be able to hit "Pastor" on speed dial and oh, he knew who I was, what I needed, what I was offering, whatever. And I've had more than one Pastor. And they are STILL on my speed dial, thank you very much. As are their wives. But I digress.
I needed to know, that even though we are committing to a church of gargantuan proportions, that we would MATTER. But I didn't mean, like, on the receiving end.
I said to her, "I don't think I'm here for ME. I think I'm here TO SHARE."
Listen, I know that probably 100% of you think I'm on the crazy train most, if not ALL of the time, but GOD SPEAKS TO ME. I have shared this before, and I am telling you right now, HE SPEAKS TO ME. I hear Him. I see Him. I feel Him. Through visions. Through dreams. Through goosebumps. Through the discernment of good or evil. I just KNOW. Ask Two Swords. He can tell you. Or my former pastors. They can tell you. Or some of my friends. They can tell you.
So I'm trying to tell this stranger, who is a perfectly fine, polite, nice, caring woman, "Listen Lady, I'm sure that like eleventy people an hour come in here and tell you that God speaks to them and they need to talk to somebody, but no, I don't need any money, and no, I don't need a frozen turkey but thank you so much for offering, and no, I'm not delusional, but I am SERIOUS."
So.
She starts quoting Jeremiah.
And I listen. Admittedly, I am not familiar with Jeremiah. But I will be soon. Trust me. As soon as I finish up with the business of James, I'm headed for Jeremiah.
She asks me if I looked at the life groups on line.
I told her that I had, but nothing really popped out at me.
And then she asked me...."What about our Real FREEDOM group?"
Huh?
I have no idea what she is talking about.
But God most certainly did.
I told her I didn't see it on the group list.
She said, "That's because it's under SUPPORT."
I said, "But I wasn't NEEDING support, so I didn't GO THERE."
And she puts her hand on my head as if I'm an imp and says, "You are so silly! You are meant to GIVE the SUPPORT!"
And it clicked.
Yep.
That's exactly where I am supposed to be.
Grief.
Divorce.
Addiction.
Healthy Relationships.
Damaged Relationships.
Suicide.
And 5 or 6 others.
They meet all at one time, have praise and worship for 15 minutes, then break into their respective groups.
I'm meant to be there to....COUNSEL. To....SUPPORT. To....EMPATHIZE. To....GUIDE.
All the things I am really, really, really, REALLY good at.
Okay Lady, so...I can't make this commitment right now, because my husband is leaving for South Carolina for two months and I'm about to become a single mom four days a week and then I will have to drive my kids six hours each way every weekend........
"No."
Huh?
"The group meets on Tuesday nights."
Whoa.
TODAY IS TUESDAY.
Goosebumps.
Got it, God. I understand. I know why you brought me here. And I know where I am supposed to be at 7pm tonight. Even though it's the finale of The Voice, I can DVR it. Seriously, I can do that.
I thought that was ALL that God had in store for me for the day.
PHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
SHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHTTTTTTTTTT
Anyhoo.
Off I go to my original destination.
Publix.
Where Shopping Is a Pleasure.
Always.
Always Publix,
Always a Pleasure.
I'm just wandering around, picking up random items. Not the usual way I shop. I usually have a list.
Not today.
I wander to the meat market.
And the Meat Man offers to help, as usual.
I said, "Yeah, can you tell me what to fix for dinner, because, seriously, UGH, I'm so TIRED of deciding what my family will eat every night."
And he did. And I was like, "Huh." Okay. Yeah. I'll try that. If the Captain doesn't like it, Off With His Head! He can walk the plank. Don't care.
Then I'm at the checkout register.
A man with special needs is my bagger today. He bags my items PERFECTLY. He does not struggle. He takes his time. But I have time. Lots of it. I'm good.
He finishes, the cashier finishes, and I'm headed out the door.
Nope.
God told me to take another RIGHT turn.
I went to the service desk.
A young lady asked if she could help me, very pleasantly, I might add.
I said, "Who do I talk to if I want to say THANK YOU?"
She said, "Huh?"
I said, "I want to say Thank You."
She said, (because I'm certain she's not used to hearing something this radical), "Ummm....for.....what?"
I said, "For making shopping a PLEASURE."
She looked at me like the Church Lady did. Like I had a third eyeball.
She went and got the manager.
She must have told him I was a nutjob, cuz he looked at me the same way.
I stuck my RIGHT hand out, and said my name and said, "I want to tell you this because I'm sure you are not hearing it very much, especially this time of year, but you should. I have been shopping at this store, 2-3 times a week since the day it opened ELEVEN years ago, and I have NEVER EVER EVER had a bad experience, from top to bottom. And I want to THANK YOU for making shopping a PLEASURE."
And the Manager lit up like a Christmas tree, pardon the pun.
And he needed to hear that today. Don't know why. None of my business. Don't know what fire he was fighting before the Nutjob Lady with the Third Eyeball appeared, but he needed it. And God knew it. That's why He sent me.
And he was gracious.
And then I said, "And one more thing. I am disabled. I want to THANK YOU for hiring people who have special needs."
And he lit up even brighter.
And he said, "THAT is OUR pleasure."
And I wished him a Merry Christmas.
And he stopped me and said, "Do you need help out with your groceries?"
And I said, "No thank you. Not TODAY."
And off I went.
To my next destination.
SHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
PHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHTTTTTT
God told me to put my grocery cart back.
I had to make another RIGHT turn.
ASIDE: As a NASCAR fan, and as a whackjob RIGHT wing Republican, this irony is not lost on me, I promise you.
An older lady was right next to me, putting her cart back.
She said, "It is sooooo nice to see YOUNG people putting their carts back."
SHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
Thanks for that, but I'm not so young.
Anyway.
I said, "You know, my PASTOR once told us that we should always put our carts back. Sometimes I take it all the way into the store, and sometimes I put it in the corral, but, yeah, we always put them back. In fact, my kids actually fight sometimes over who gets to put the cart back."
And she opined, "If only more people in this world could be like US."
And I said, "You know what? Perhaps they will. Perhaps they will CHANGE. Perhaps we just need to be examples for them."
And she said, "I hope you are right."
And I wished her a MERRY CHRISTMAS. And she returned it.
And then I headed to my next destination.
Nope.
Not another right turn.
Across the street.
To theVampire lab to have bloodwork done.
I saw a cross on the wall at the front desk.
Hmmm.
Interesting.
You don't see THAT everyday.
Cool.
Signed in, wrote my check, waited my turn.
And then theBlood Sucking Vampire Phlebotomist called me in.
And I sat down.
And I looked to my RIGHT.
On the wall.
Whoa.
I said, "Did YOU do that, or did THEY do that?"
She said, "Me and the other gal did it."
I said, "Wow. You don't see THAT everyday."
She said, "They are everywhere around here. Even at our corporate office."
Realllllllyyyyyyyyy?
Yep.
I asked her if I could take a picture of it.
She said, "Absolutely. Just about everybody who comes in here does."
And so I did.
And here it is.
Just another sign.
On just another day.
He is there. He is here. He is everywhere. You just have to look, listen, and live. I hope and pray that someone who reads this might also be called to action today.
I most certainly was.
So.
I don't know how y'all's day has gone so far, but lemme tell you about mine.
This morning, like most mornings, I sparred with Red and was outnegotiated by the Captain. Nothing new. The Pirates got on the school bus and went on their merry way. Done with being a stay at home Mom for t-minus 8 hours.
I took a shower and heard someone banging at the door. At 0800. Seriously? Hmmm. Got out of the shower, and no one was at the door. I opened the door and.....a very large box had arrived bearing Christmas gifts from West Virginia. Wow. Now that was nice. Awesome! Thank you!
Then I met up with a very dear friend, and prayed and broke bread after not seeing each other for a very long time. And God was the prime topic at breakfast. Said our goodbyes and off we went about our merry ways.
Went to my super awesome Doctor's office to pick up a form for the
I got my form, and I headed on to my next stop.
Publix.
Where Shopping Is A Pleasure.
Except.....
God told me to take a RIGHT turn.
And I did.
Before I knew it, I was sitting in the administrative offices of the new church we have been attending and will soon become formal members of. I had no idea why I was there. Honestly. No clue. I just felt COMPELLED......CALLED TO ACTION.....
This church is a Mega church. 3,000 people go there. They have like 8 million pastors or something. 10% of our city goes there. It's big. It's even on TV. It's big, but it's real. And we have wondered, are we going to be just another 'number' here? Or will we BE ABLE to MATTER?
So I'm sitting on this leather couch talking to a woman I don't even know, and she is trying to assess my NEEDS. I insisted I had none. Really. I mean, we're good. We're awesome. We're on fire for Jesus right now. Big changes in our lives. Big. Radical. But RIGHT.
So she keeps talking to me, quizzically. I told her it would take me 20 years to share my 42 years of life with her, but hey, I'm writing a book, and you can read about it then. It will be finished soon. But I gave her a few clues. Been here, done this. Been there, done that. Have this, don't have that. God said this, God told me that.
She asks me if I'm interested in being a prayer helper at the end of each service, offering prayers to people in need.
No.
I knew that wasn't it.
And I told her so.
Nope. That's not what God wants me to do.
She pondered that perhaps it wasn't yet time for me to act. Perhaps I was still in a season of listening.
Nope.
I'm here, Lady. I don't know why, but there's like a whole bunch of people in this building and we gotta get it figured out RIGHT NOW. Because.....in my 'old' church....well, I used to be able to hit "Pastor" on speed dial and oh, he knew who I was, what I needed, what I was offering, whatever. And I've had more than one Pastor. And they are STILL on my speed dial, thank you very much. As are their wives. But I digress.
I needed to know, that even though we are committing to a church of gargantuan proportions, that we would MATTER. But I didn't mean, like, on the receiving end.
I said to her, "I don't think I'm here for ME. I think I'm here TO SHARE."
Listen, I know that probably 100% of you think I'm on the crazy train most, if not ALL of the time, but GOD SPEAKS TO ME. I have shared this before, and I am telling you right now, HE SPEAKS TO ME. I hear Him. I see Him. I feel Him. Through visions. Through dreams. Through goosebumps. Through the discernment of good or evil. I just KNOW. Ask Two Swords. He can tell you. Or my former pastors. They can tell you. Or some of my friends. They can tell you.
So I'm trying to tell this stranger, who is a perfectly fine, polite, nice, caring woman, "Listen Lady, I'm sure that like eleventy people an hour come in here and tell you that God speaks to them and they need to talk to somebody, but no, I don't need any money, and no, I don't need a frozen turkey but thank you so much for offering, and no, I'm not delusional, but I am SERIOUS."
So.
She starts quoting Jeremiah.
And I listen. Admittedly, I am not familiar with Jeremiah. But I will be soon. Trust me. As soon as I finish up with the business of James, I'm headed for Jeremiah.
She asks me if I looked at the life groups on line.
I told her that I had, but nothing really popped out at me.
And then she asked me...."What about our Real FREEDOM group?"
Huh?
I have no idea what she is talking about.
But God most certainly did.
I told her I didn't see it on the group list.
She said, "That's because it's under SUPPORT."
I said, "But I wasn't NEEDING support, so I didn't GO THERE."
And she puts her hand on my head as if I'm an imp and says, "You are so silly! You are meant to GIVE the SUPPORT!"
And it clicked.
Yep.
That's exactly where I am supposed to be.
Grief.
Divorce.
Addiction.
Healthy Relationships.
Damaged Relationships.
Suicide.
And 5 or 6 others.
They meet all at one time, have praise and worship for 15 minutes, then break into their respective groups.
I'm meant to be there to....COUNSEL. To....SUPPORT. To....EMPATHIZE. To....GUIDE.
All the things I am really, really, really, REALLY good at.
Okay Lady, so...I can't make this commitment right now, because my husband is leaving for South Carolina for two months and I'm about to become a single mom four days a week and then I will have to drive my kids six hours each way every weekend........
"No."
Huh?
"The group meets on Tuesday nights."
Whoa.
TODAY IS TUESDAY.
Goosebumps.
Got it, God. I understand. I know why you brought me here. And I know where I am supposed to be at 7pm tonight. Even though it's the finale of The Voice, I can DVR it. Seriously, I can do that.
I thought that was ALL that God had in store for me for the day.
PHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
SHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHTTTTTTTTTT
Anyhoo.
Off I go to my original destination.
Publix.
Where Shopping Is a Pleasure.
Always.
Always Publix,
Always a Pleasure.
I'm just wandering around, picking up random items. Not the usual way I shop. I usually have a list.
Not today.
I wander to the meat market.
And the Meat Man offers to help, as usual.
I said, "Yeah, can you tell me what to fix for dinner, because, seriously, UGH, I'm so TIRED of deciding what my family will eat every night."
And he did. And I was like, "Huh." Okay. Yeah. I'll try that. If the Captain doesn't like it, Off With His Head! He can walk the plank. Don't care.
Then I'm at the checkout register.
A man with special needs is my bagger today. He bags my items PERFECTLY. He does not struggle. He takes his time. But I have time. Lots of it. I'm good.
He finishes, the cashier finishes, and I'm headed out the door.
Nope.
God told me to take another RIGHT turn.
I went to the service desk.
A young lady asked if she could help me, very pleasantly, I might add.
I said, "Who do I talk to if I want to say THANK YOU?"
She said, "Huh?"
I said, "I want to say Thank You."
She said, (because I'm certain she's not used to hearing something this radical), "Ummm....for.....what?"
I said, "For making shopping a PLEASURE."
She looked at me like the Church Lady did. Like I had a third eyeball.
She went and got the manager.
She must have told him I was a nutjob, cuz he looked at me the same way.
I stuck my RIGHT hand out, and said my name and said, "I want to tell you this because I'm sure you are not hearing it very much, especially this time of year, but you should. I have been shopping at this store, 2-3 times a week since the day it opened ELEVEN years ago, and I have NEVER EVER EVER had a bad experience, from top to bottom. And I want to THANK YOU for making shopping a PLEASURE."
And the Manager lit up like a Christmas tree, pardon the pun.
And he needed to hear that today. Don't know why. None of my business. Don't know what fire he was fighting before the Nutjob Lady with the Third Eyeball appeared, but he needed it. And God knew it. That's why He sent me.
And he was gracious.
And then I said, "And one more thing. I am disabled. I want to THANK YOU for hiring people who have special needs."
And he lit up even brighter.
And he said, "THAT is OUR pleasure."
And I wished him a Merry Christmas.
And he stopped me and said, "Do you need help out with your groceries?"
And I said, "No thank you. Not TODAY."
And off I went.
To my next destination.
SHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
PHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHTTTTTT
God told me to put my grocery cart back.
I had to make another RIGHT turn.
ASIDE: As a NASCAR fan, and as a whackjob RIGHT wing Republican, this irony is not lost on me, I promise you.
An older lady was right next to me, putting her cart back.
She said, "It is sooooo nice to see YOUNG people putting their carts back."
SHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
Thanks for that, but I'm not so young.
Anyway.
I said, "You know, my PASTOR once told us that we should always put our carts back. Sometimes I take it all the way into the store, and sometimes I put it in the corral, but, yeah, we always put them back. In fact, my kids actually fight sometimes over who gets to put the cart back."
And she opined, "If only more people in this world could be like US."
And I said, "You know what? Perhaps they will. Perhaps they will CHANGE. Perhaps we just need to be examples for them."
And she said, "I hope you are right."
And I wished her a MERRY CHRISTMAS. And she returned it.
And then I headed to my next destination.
Nope.
Not another right turn.
Across the street.
To the
I saw a cross on the wall at the front desk.
Hmmm.
Interesting.
You don't see THAT everyday.
Cool.
Signed in, wrote my check, waited my turn.
And then the
And I sat down.
And I looked to my RIGHT.
On the wall.
Whoa.
I said, "Did YOU do that, or did THEY do that?"
She said, "Me and the other gal did it."
I said, "Wow. You don't see THAT everyday."
She said, "They are everywhere around here. Even at our corporate office."
Realllllllyyyyyyyyy?
Yep.
I asked her if I could take a picture of it.
She said, "Absolutely. Just about everybody who comes in here does."
And so I did.
And here it is.
Just another sign.
On just another day.
He is there. He is here. He is everywhere. You just have to look, listen, and live. I hope and pray that someone who reads this might also be called to action today.
I most certainly was.
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