Twelve muddy feet tramping in the back door ,"Wait! Wait! WAIT!" "Let me get the hose and rinse you all down!" I couldn't help jumping into the fray with the water. I HAD to do a good job. Cleanliness is next to godliness! "Mom, that was fun!" "Yeah, especially since I had control of the hose! Heh heh heh" A time or two they got control of it and took turns dowsing everyone.
Sigh...I love those memories!
I used to feel bad because I never had money to take the kids to go do something special. Over the years that fact never seemed to change. Ugh! Most recently, I wanted to go see my first grandchild, but as usual, I can't. She is 5 months old today! The kids got to go do fun things whenever they spent the weekend with their Dad. He always seemed to have extra. Probably because he's a great planner.
I suppose I could be a better planner, but if I were a better planner I'd be a better planner! There are too many variables or stupid things that come up like much needed brakes for the car, mishap with my bank account, or the heat was left on and someone (I won't mention any names) left the bedroom window open all day in 40-degree weather...again! Murphy's Law. I just learned that Murphy was my great grandfather! I'm not saying things won't ever change - they have in some areas, they just haven't changed in others...yet. I had all but a few of my bills paid off in January of this year and now I have to start over. I guess great grandma Murphy was a prayin' woman. It's hard to see how I can make it without knowing how to pray. The beauty of having God present is knowing there is hope when there doesn't seem to be any. :o)
I was bemoaning the fact that whenever I want to do something (like go see my new grandbaby in NC and be able to take my youngest two kids with me) I appear to be on the short end of the paycheck. This time I mentioned the sentiment to my youngest son. I was shocked to hear what he had to say in his 17-year-old wisdom: "Mom, the only reason why you never had the money and Dad did, was because you have always been with us and he hasn't been. If you came to get us every 2 weeks, then you might have more money to spend on us like he did. In my opinion, it is more important to be there 24/7."
Wow! You know I cried. Thanks son! I needed that! I didn't expect to hear him say so much. Quick! I need to write it down in my journal!
I made it a practice to write down things the kids would say over the years because sitting down to read those pages of life always serve to make me laugh and cry. It encouraged me when life beat me up. The kids enjoyed hearing what I recorded about them too.
Here's one: I have a note that one of my sons wrote when he was about four years old. He asked me how to spell my name. I told him letter by letter J-O-A-N. He said, "I'm going to give this to Dad, so Dad will remember your name and not say 'Hey White Lady!'"
People used to give me a hard time because I chose to have "so many" children. They'd tease me about not having a TV, which we didn't for a long time! LOL. Another one is not knowing what birth control is. They would ask if we were Mormons or Catholics...etc. Neither. I just wanted a big family!
My babies came generally about every two years with one exception. There was only a year between our fourth and fifth. Hey! I got excited okay? My first three were fairly long, difficult births. Our oldest started out at 8.7 lbs., the second 8.15, and the third 9.3 lbs. Our fourth child was 9.0 lbs., but came in only 3 fast contractions. BLAM! She was here! And so it went with the last two. Our last baby was also born in a few minutes after the doctor got him turned around the right way - it was all good! He tried to face the world butt first. My fifth child, she took only about 20 minutes and 3 contractions. I mention her last because I could have sneezed her out. She was my little frijole or beanie baby because we had been in the ministry full time and let's face it preachers don't make as much money as nuclear engineers do! My husband worked for the Navy and had always been in part-time ministry. It wasn't until he finished his bachelor's degree that we went into full-time ministry, taking a church in the plains of West Texas. Beans and cornbread was our main sustenence for a good part of that pregnancy. Fortunately for us we lived next to a big Spanish family who liked to share their wonderful food. I'll never forget their tamales and homemade tortillas! My favorite was her chicken, corn, and zucchini dish. After beans most of the time, this dish was colorful and light. God knew how much I would appreciate my neighbors!
Six children. They're almost grown now. My youngest, as you recall, is now 17 years old, an' my leetle frijole is 19 years old.
There were times when I thought the dreams I had when I was a teenager would never come to pass. I got to experience pieces of the dreams, but it just never seemed the right time. I wanted to be a Mom and knew I would have a family some day. I wanted a LARGE family just in case there was ever any question about it. A large family means more than TWO. Large in today's dictionary is anything more than two. Well, I wanted more than four or six...maybe even eight! I came from a large family of eight children and I am the youngest. My parents actually had 11 children, but only eight survived. I am still the youngest, lol! Life in a big family has it's ups and downs, but we were happy. Happy together. It wasn't easy for my parents, nor was it for us. My husband was from a family of seven. My body wouldn't let me have any more after six, that and it helps to have a husband to help generate them. Everything changed after my last child was born. I'm thankful for the time I had with my little ones! I am truly blessed. I still am.
For all the heartache, the piles of laundry and dishes, scraped knees and bumped heads, beans and cornbread - I can honestly say I am glad I had them. I invested my life into my family. I didn't spend it - though I did "put my time in". I could have cut and run several times, but I didn't. It's not a bad thing to give of yourself though it hurts at the time. Having a big pile of kids to go along with the dishes and laundry isn't overrated! The results of what I invested might not be readily seen, but with all my heart I believe there will be a time when I will know what my investment yielded. I will get to understand why things happened the way they did. Maybe then I won't be the last one to know!
There are still things I want to do - that I need to do. Admittedly, I've wondered if I'm might be a bit old for some of it though I've been reassured that I'm not too old - that the best is yet to come. I like that.
So now I am watching as my last two children finish high school, get jobs, and grow up. I can hardly believe I'm at the threshold of some new things. All those years ago it seemed like an eternity just to get everyone out of diapers! Or to get them to stop stepping on my feet or keep them from "hanging in my elbows"! Clogged sinks/toilets, lost shoes, broken glasses! The proverbial basket of socks, scattered toys, and the years of sharp Lego pieces along side the little green Army men that stabbed me in the foot when I had to get up to help a crying child in the middle of the night! Popsicle sticks or Coughsicle (Otter Pops) wrappers, dried out markers because the lid was left off, dried out PlayDoh, and the missing puzzle piece that got kicked under the fridge. Sticky pennies from sticky fingers stuck under the stove. The Good Life. :o)
I'm not sorry and I'm not apologizing! Thank you God for my kids! I love the memories and I'm way over the piles of laundry and dishes. I made it through and can know in my heart I gave my best! My children were/are worth it!
I endured my blessings, all six of them!
Sunday, November 13, 2011
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Not What I Pictured
I had a totally different idea what my life would look like 30 years ago. I was excited to begin exploring what stretched out before me like a beautiful meadow complete with towering trees on a hill and flowers everywhere. I scanned the horizon and saw the goals ahead. I experienced following the leader, hide and go seek, and a few merry-go-rounds. I thought I knew what I wanted and set out for life with it all packed away deep in the closet of my heart ready to live it enthusiastically. Unfortunately, life has it's own way of unpacking or revealing itself and I wasn't invited to unpack it, just experience it.
Don't get me wrong I'm not complaining; it's kind of late for that now. I am content with "things" such as they are, yet I have to admit the picture turned out completely different from when I innocently began this adventure. The meadow was actually an alligator farm and some of the flowers made me break out in hives! The merry-go-round lasted longer than I thought it would, but after I got used to it - it wasn't bad! I didn't learn that I was knee deep in some one else's hide and seek game until after it was over because I was too busy following the leader to realize the game. The tree proved to be a refuge - tall and stately - a great place to rest. I thought I made it through the meadow only the meadow was much bigger than I thought. What should have been a walk in the park was actually an expedition into a wildlife refuge. Not at all what I was mentally or emotionally prepared for, but I gained from the experience. I enjoyed much of it despite the hives, some dizziness, and my lack of experience.
Here are 7 lessons I took away from that meadow:
Lesson 1: Say what you mean, mean what you say, and don't say what is mean.
Lesson 2: Make sure the leader you are following has The Leader (you know, the One) they are following or an excellent map/compass.
Lesson 3: Keep following the Leader/map even if your leader stops following.
Lesson 4: There is a huge difference between politeness and truth - one has it's place and the other owns the place.
Lesson 5: If you stop in the middle of a meadow it could very well be an alligator farm or a lion's den.
Lesson 6: Everyone sets out to cross the meadow, but only a few actually get to the other side. It's usually because they had a nice tall tree to climb so they could see the way ahead (and the alligators or the lions).
Lesson 7: Don't be sorry you gave your life blood for something. You should never apologize for giving or loving.
Life handed me gifts and I willingly became a fragile package handler, a porter of life and I carried what was stacked in my arms. I admittedly enjoyed my post at times, and what I didn't, in all honesty I tried not to complain about. I had my moments. I found that what I couldn't carry when the load became too great I passed off the burden to someone much bigger than I. Not only was this One fully capable, but graciously able to carry all of it. This lesson still applies.
So, the colors ran wild and the picture got smudged - not a pretty sight! I think it is the work of an artist who employs abstract symbolism. The artist's use of mistakes and flaws to enhance the beauty of the work is beyond me. I couldn't see it then. The textures, colors, direction of the focus is not what I imagined or would have chosen, but better than I could have imagined. I can see and understand a little more now. At the time, I was devastated. Where's the picture? Is there anything human even visible in this thing? Why me? Why you? Why them? I know...you don't have to tell me. I've already figured it out. Questions like these often don't have an answer, so don't ask. I probably wouldn't like the answer if I heard it anyway.
I once shook my fist at the sky and heard His strong yet tender voice say, "I take the blame". I lowered my fist and set my hands to work pulling stickers. My tears watered the dry ground of my life. I poured out my heart right there on the sin-filled soil of my ignorance. I revisited many times as a guard mans his post. I kept the stickers pulled and emptied my wound again and again. I walked away time after time only to find it brazenly painted in the picture when I got home. Torment or tenderness? Betrayal or beauty? Lest I forget? For a memorial of some kind in the distant future? My one vindication: the stickers were eventually gone. Though there are always stickers I now know how to rid myself of them.
I wanted to slash the canvas and rip it to shreds, but I knew if I did more would be destroyed than meets my finite human eye. Onlookers witnessed my every move, my breath, my heartbeat. They witnessed my whole life. What I count as broken or marred is art? How can this arrangement of my life's blood become of any value? I threw it on the ground! Not just once - many times! I left it for dead. I picked it up again and I seemed to just mar it all the more; I smudged it. I smeared the paint.
I accepted what was placed in my hands and cherished the gifts given me. I still do. I gave what I could and what I had. I didn't have any more to give. Was the lifeblood I spilled enough to finish the picture? Is it enough?
I am comforted to know there are those who see...now. There are those who knew the stickers and knew me. Know me and still love me to this day.
I birthed life and Life birthed me
I sing a song of bravery
He hands out gifts
He blesses tears
This artist who mastered me
Painted words and words of paint
textured into memory
heavy burdens lift
Angel voices theirs
by this artist who mastered me
Remember Me...(Oh I remember!)
You never left my side
was buried only yet to rise
life blood's spent, now heir
of this artist who mastered me
I birthed love and Love birthed me
I sing a song of laboring
He hands out gifts
He blesses years
This artist who mastered me
Surrendered then surrendered again
a lifetime lover's prize
sinew strength in gentle eyes
he mastered me then
he masters me now
This artist who mastered me
Why must I remember? What is the lesson here? There sits a painted testimony of a life. Not just a life that once was, but a life that continues. Don't ask me how it still continues with it's lifeblood painted upon an open canvas for all to see, to scrutinize, or observe. You don't have to tell me how it came out. As a matter of a fact, it is still kind of painful to see. Then certain areas are just too blurry for me to get the picture. I have accepted the artist's rendition and his viewpoint. After all, he is the master painter renown for his work and though the piece is not finished he exclaims, "Potential!"
I see a dried out piece of painted, marred Play-Doh depicted on a simple canvas. The master artist sees potential? I will take what He says to heart and wait until the day when it all makes sense. We'll see. I know who has helped me and He won't ever leave me.
Don't get me wrong I'm not complaining; it's kind of late for that now. I am content with "things" such as they are, yet I have to admit the picture turned out completely different from when I innocently began this adventure. The meadow was actually an alligator farm and some of the flowers made me break out in hives! The merry-go-round lasted longer than I thought it would, but after I got used to it - it wasn't bad! I didn't learn that I was knee deep in some one else's hide and seek game until after it was over because I was too busy following the leader to realize the game. The tree proved to be a refuge - tall and stately - a great place to rest. I thought I made it through the meadow only the meadow was much bigger than I thought. What should have been a walk in the park was actually an expedition into a wildlife refuge. Not at all what I was mentally or emotionally prepared for, but I gained from the experience. I enjoyed much of it despite the hives, some dizziness, and my lack of experience.
Here are 7 lessons I took away from that meadow:
Lesson 1: Say what you mean, mean what you say, and don't say what is mean.
Lesson 2: Make sure the leader you are following has The Leader (you know, the One) they are following or an excellent map/compass.
Lesson 3: Keep following the Leader/map even if your leader stops following.
Lesson 4: There is a huge difference between politeness and truth - one has it's place and the other owns the place.
Lesson 5: If you stop in the middle of a meadow it could very well be an alligator farm or a lion's den.
Lesson 6: Everyone sets out to cross the meadow, but only a few actually get to the other side. It's usually because they had a nice tall tree to climb so they could see the way ahead (and the alligators or the lions).
Lesson 7: Don't be sorry you gave your life blood for something. You should never apologize for giving or loving.
Life handed me gifts and I willingly became a fragile package handler, a porter of life and I carried what was stacked in my arms. I admittedly enjoyed my post at times, and what I didn't, in all honesty I tried not to complain about. I had my moments. I found that what I couldn't carry when the load became too great I passed off the burden to someone much bigger than I. Not only was this One fully capable, but graciously able to carry all of it. This lesson still applies.
So, the colors ran wild and the picture got smudged - not a pretty sight! I think it is the work of an artist who employs abstract symbolism. The artist's use of mistakes and flaws to enhance the beauty of the work is beyond me. I couldn't see it then. The textures, colors, direction of the focus is not what I imagined or would have chosen, but better than I could have imagined. I can see and understand a little more now. At the time, I was devastated. Where's the picture? Is there anything human even visible in this thing? Why me? Why you? Why them? I know...you don't have to tell me. I've already figured it out. Questions like these often don't have an answer, so don't ask. I probably wouldn't like the answer if I heard it anyway.
I once shook my fist at the sky and heard His strong yet tender voice say, "I take the blame". I lowered my fist and set my hands to work pulling stickers. My tears watered the dry ground of my life. I poured out my heart right there on the sin-filled soil of my ignorance. I revisited many times as a guard mans his post. I kept the stickers pulled and emptied my wound again and again. I walked away time after time only to find it brazenly painted in the picture when I got home. Torment or tenderness? Betrayal or beauty? Lest I forget? For a memorial of some kind in the distant future? My one vindication: the stickers were eventually gone. Though there are always stickers I now know how to rid myself of them.
I wanted to slash the canvas and rip it to shreds, but I knew if I did more would be destroyed than meets my finite human eye. Onlookers witnessed my every move, my breath, my heartbeat. They witnessed my whole life. What I count as broken or marred is art? How can this arrangement of my life's blood become of any value? I threw it on the ground! Not just once - many times! I left it for dead. I picked it up again and I seemed to just mar it all the more; I smudged it. I smeared the paint.
I accepted what was placed in my hands and cherished the gifts given me. I still do. I gave what I could and what I had. I didn't have any more to give. Was the lifeblood I spilled enough to finish the picture? Is it enough?
I am comforted to know there are those who see...now. There are those who knew the stickers and knew me. Know me and still love me to this day.
I birthed life and Life birthed me
I sing a song of bravery
He hands out gifts
He blesses tears
This artist who mastered me
Painted words and words of paint
textured into memory
heavy burdens lift
Angel voices theirs
by this artist who mastered me
Remember Me...(Oh I remember!)
You never left my side
was buried only yet to rise
life blood's spent, now heir
of this artist who mastered me
I birthed love and Love birthed me
I sing a song of laboring
He hands out gifts
He blesses years
This artist who mastered me
Surrendered then surrendered again
a lifetime lover's prize
sinew strength in gentle eyes
he mastered me then
he masters me now
This artist who mastered me
Why must I remember? What is the lesson here? There sits a painted testimony of a life. Not just a life that once was, but a life that continues. Don't ask me how it still continues with it's lifeblood painted upon an open canvas for all to see, to scrutinize, or observe. You don't have to tell me how it came out. As a matter of a fact, it is still kind of painful to see. Then certain areas are just too blurry for me to get the picture. I have accepted the artist's rendition and his viewpoint. After all, he is the master painter renown for his work and though the piece is not finished he exclaims, "Potential!"
I see a dried out piece of painted, marred Play-Doh depicted on a simple canvas. The master artist sees potential? I will take what He says to heart and wait until the day when it all makes sense. We'll see. I know who has helped me and He won't ever leave me.
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