ITS A BOY!

The birth of a baby is such an exciting time!

We were privileged to be present at the birth of all our grandbabies, and what a time it was. (Well, for us anyway, maybe not so much for the mothers)

When everyone is sitting in the waiting room....well, waiting, and then, finally, someone comes out and yells "It's a girl! or It's a boy!"  There's pandamonium for a little while.

Wouldn't you just love to have that job?  Being the announcer! The one where you run out and tell the waiting family if it's a girl or a boy.  "Can I go now?  Can I tell them, now?  Is it time?"  I think that would be the neatest job!

I've been thinking alot lately about the event that took place over two thousand years ago and it's still talked about today.  We all have stories about the birth of our children, but when I talk about mine, my boys just roll their eyes and say, "Mom, we've heard this before."

However, the birth that took place in Bethlehem still causes excitement.  It causes arguments.  It changes lives.

The ride to the hospital is always a fun story, too...yelling at road workers that have stopped traffic, to get out of the way, we're coming through; having to get a police to find the husband, who is taking classes, and tell him he's about to become a father...there's always a story, and those are a couple of mine.

But Mary's story isn't filled with fun antics, or fast trips.  It's a story of a woman, who could become a mother at any minute.  It's a story of wearisome travel through mountains and rough terrain on the back of a mule.  It's a story of cold temperatures and sleeping on rough, frozen ground.  It's a heartbreaking story of a woman in labor who can't even find a bed to lay on.

But, then, there's "the announcer." Just imagine the anticipation.  "Can I go now?  Can I tell them now?  When is it time?  Is it time yet?"  "It's time?!"  And then there's lots of ruffling of angel wings, lots of clearing throats and getting ready to sing.

Now, imagine, on a hillside somewhere outside of Bethlehem, sits some young boys.  As was the custom in that time, the youngest of the sons were made to be the shepherds, while the older brothers helped with the tilling of the land, sowing and reaping, building the barns and houses.  So, the youngest held the responsibility of caring for the sheep.

It's so cold outside, they can see their breath as they talk to their sheep and to one another. The air is so crisp that it hurts their skin, so they try to snuggle down into their clothing. They build a fire and then they build a sleeping place surrounding the fire by putting large, oblong stones in a circle and then fill the inside with soft limbs from trees, covered in grasses for bedding.  As they settle down for a long night in the cold, one of them will sit watch over the sheep.  He has his staff that has nails driven in one end to use as a defender of his sheep from predators.  So, he's ready.  He's taken his position on one of the stones for a better view of the sheep and surrounding area while his friends burrough into their warm beds for some rest.

 

As he sits there with thoughts springing through his mind, maybe singing to himself and watching his breath escape into the cold, night air, he thinks he hears something...some sort of stirring...and he prepares himself for protecting his flock. He wakes his friends and tells them to get ready, but before they can even grab their staffs for battle, there's an enormous explosion of light that fills the sky and a being, far too beautiful and far too menacing, stops them in their movements.  They are so afraid, they cannot move, they cannot speak, they cannot think.

This being, this person, this angel that is so frightening, yet so calming, tells them not to fear. And they listen.  They listen as the angel tells them about a birth!  It tells them it's a Boy!  But it's not just any boy, it's their Saviour.

As they're taking all this in, something else is stirring in the sky, some sort of movement and suddenly, behind the announcer, they see a choir!  It has completely filled the sky and the song is like none they've ever heard. And as quickly as it all happened, it was over...just stillness....just stars.
What a night!  What a story!  What a Saviour!

Luke 2:8-17, 20  And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night.  And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid.  And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people.  For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord.  And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger.  And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.  And it came to pass, as the angels were gone away from them into heaven, the shepherds said one to another, Let us now go even unto Bethlehem, and see this thing which is come to pass, which the Lord hath made known unto us.  And they came with haste, and found Mary, and Joseph, and the babe lying in a manger.  And when they had seen it, they made known abroad the saying which was told them concerning this child.  And the shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all the things that they had heard and seen, as it was told unto them.

My Sister's Sons

Day 26 is a bittersweet day of thankfulness.  I smile as I reminisce about my nephews as young boys and I cry for the decisions they are making today.  When they were born, I wondered if I could possibly love my own children that I would have one day as much as I loved them.

My sister is the closest person I have on this earth apart from my husband and my love for her is carried down to her sons.  When her first son was born, he became my living baby doll.  I cuddled him, carried him and played with him.  He became my little shadow.

He loved to watch Lassie and would cry broken hearted when it was over.  He loved his cowboy hat and blanket, he loved looking at books, and he was afraid of car washes.  We sang "Smokie the Bear" together, read books and played cars.  He was mine.

Along came little brother who had red hair and had enormous brown eyes.  He was mine too because us redheads had like a private club that only redheads were a part of.  It seemed he arrived talking.  That little boy could talk the warts off a frog.  I remember babysitting one time when he was about 4 or 5 and there was a little stream behind the house.  The last words his mom said was, "don't let them near the creek."  Well, before she was hardly out of the driveway I heard big brother screaming at me to come around the house, and there was my little redhead, dripping wet.  He had fallen in the creek and proceeded to tell us all he saw sharks and alligators while he was down there. 

They used to come and stay with me during the summer when I was a teenager.  So many memories.  How aggravating they could be and at the same time so much fun.  I was on a women's softball team, so they'd go to practices and games with me and have the time of their lives.

Then I started my own family.  I had one son when my third nephew was born.  I had never seen anything so tiny.  He was mine, too, because he became an extension of my own family.  He was the middle child between my first two sons.  He was best friends with my second son and they couldn't get enough of each other.  They'd sit face to face and whisper and giggle for hours.  I've never seen a child that hated going to bed more than him.  I can still see him coming in the living room when he was supposed to be in bed with a grin on his face, asking for water, or something to eat, or what were we going to be doing the next day, or....on and on it would go. 

Now, they're grown men with their own families.  They lost their dad a couple of years ago and now are facing terminal illness with their mom, but have faced the adversities like real men.  They've stepped up to the plate.  They've made difficult decisions.  And I am proud to call them my nephews. 

They are my blood and they are my heart.  I love them so and am so thankful that God chose me to be their aunt.

I'm Thankful for Tarzan, aka Big Brother

Day 25, and I skipped a couple of days.  Not that I wasn't thankful, but that I had a houseful of kids and grandkids and no time to get by myself, even if I had wanted to.

I've been thinking alot about my brother for the past couple of days.  When we were kids, you didn't see one without the other. Some of our favorite things were playing in Papa's barn with our cousins, playing army, and playing Tarzan.

We played in the loft of Papa's barn, moving the bales of hay to create forts, ships, or mountain cabins.  Our imaginations had no end.  My brother, my cousins, and I started the "Barnyard Club" and began to save our pennies.  My brother was the president, because he was the only boy.  One of my cousins was the vice president because she was the oldest, and the other cousin was the treasurer.  I was just the "member" because I was the littlest and the youngest.  We saved our pennies until we had enough to buy our grandma a little wind-up alarm clock.  Grandma kept this little clock until she passed away and now I think the Vice President owns it.

I never had the luxury of playing dolls or house with my brother because...well...he was a boy and boys play army and fighting stuff.  He and I went through one of Papa's dried up cornfields annihilating the whole entire field of "enemy soldiers" in one afternoon.  The whole field lay flat after our victorious battle.  Unknown to us, our uncle had driven down the road, parked and watched the whole battle take place.  Uncle Houston chuckled constantly as he recounted the complete story to Papa.

And, of course, Tarzan was one of our favorites since we watched him kill giant crocodiles with a little knife, underwater, on our black and white tv.  Tarzan could swing through the trees on the vines, call a whole herd of elephants and lions with his yell, and wipeout a tribe of maneating cannibals in an afternoon.  He had a monkey, Cheetah, and a girlfriend, Jane.  Well, I couldn't very well be Jane since we were brother and sister, so he called me Sally.  I could never pick out my own name.  I always wanted a pretty name like Michelle, or Cindy, but no, I was Sally.  No exotic names like Jasmine...just Sally.

On and on we would play.  We did get into some mischief occasionally.  It seems I spent half of my childhood hearing him yell, "Run, Joy, run!"  It was always interesting.

When my hero brother came home one day with a different look on his face, I began to worry about him.  He just wanted to talk about some girl named Judy, whose eyes were as blue as the sky.  Yuck.  I didn't know her, but I definitely didn't like her.  But to my satisfaction, the next day he was back to the same brother I remembered.

I got my love of books when I was just a young girl.  Every Saturday morning, my brother and I pulled out the skateboards and skated about a mile to the library, just off Chapman Highway, looked around for awhile, checked out a few books, and read to our hearts content until the next Saturday.  Then we went through our routine again.

We were very poor growing up, so we ended up with people's hand me downs of everything from toys to clothes to bicycles, or rather, just one bicycle.  But that didn't slow us down.  I was either on the seat while he stood and peddled, or I was perched on the handle bars.  There we'd go...speeding down the hill, while the neighborhood dog was nipping at our heels, me squealing with my legs up in the air. 

We've been lost together, we've been in trouble together, and we've loved each other through it all.  We were still close all through school and high school.  He was the nosy, protective big brother and I was still his little sister he needed to protect.  As far as I can remember, we only had two arguments in our lifetime, and the only reason I can remember those is because we never fought with each other. 

We don't talk everyday now.  We don't see each other real often, but he'll always be my Tarzan, and I'll always be his Sally.

I love my brother with all my heart and am so thankful he's always been my buddy.

My Life

Day 22 is Thanksgiving Day.  Right now it's all still and quiet in my home.  There's the song, "I'll Be Home For Christmas" playing softly in the background, the sun is starting to peep through the trees in our woods, and my dogs are running around in the yard protecting us from all the birds and squirrels that may dare to enter their domain.

I've started preparing for the meal that we'll gather round the table and share this evening.  Soon the house will be filled with the spicy smells of pumpkin pies, the mouth watering aroma of a stuffed turkey in the oven, and the vegetables' odor mixing together as they simmer on the stove.

Soon, my husband will stir out of his warm nest of blankets and shuffle into the kitchen to help me in all the preparations, my son will stagger down the steps to plop on the couch until his eyes can focus.

After awhile we'll hear the dogs barking as the cars begin to approach the house.  My children will be coming with their children to visit Gram and Papa.  There'll be hugs, kisses and coats piling on the bed.  Marilyn will be saying, "Papa, Papa, Papa" and smiling that little shy smile of hers.  Aubrey will come in with her whole face a smile with her one big tooth shining brightly.

We'll drag out the toys for the babies and my clean house will become a clutter of baby dolls, toy dishes and rattles.  My grown sons will laze around in the living room, legs thrown over the arms of the chairs and couches watching football.  I will hear the conversations and laughter in their deep voices but it will be a replica of their silliness in their youth.  And I'll smile.

My daughters in law will join me in the kitchen to help, but usually we spend as much time talking and sampling the food as we do working.

I'll get calls from family and make calls to loved ones wishing everyone a happy Thanksgiving.

Finally, when the last dish is placed, we'll gather at the table, we'll bow our heads and thank God for his bountiful blessings, and we'll reminisce about the ones who used to sit at our table, but now their seats are empty.  We'll smile at the new little faces that fill those empty spots.  And life goes on.

I am so blessed and so thankful for how God has blessed us.  He has blessed us with a beautiful home, plenty of food, warmth, and with a family of individuals whose hearts beat as one.

Psalms 95:2  Let us come before his presence with thanksgiving, and make a joyful noise unto him with psalms.

Mom and Dad

Day 21 has me thinking of Mom and Daddy.  As dysfunctional as we were, I still love them and am thankful for them.

Mom and Daddy got divorced when I was three, so life was hard for Mom.  She worked to provide for us.  We didn't have much in the line of material things, but she provided us a warm home, clothes and food to eat.  I didn't know we were poor.  I was just a happy, carefree little girl who's days were filled with giggles and fun with my brother.

Mom worked hard at a wool mill so I didn't get to spend much time with her because of that, but mom always kept a clean house and always had us something to eat at dinner time.

When Mom remarried, things got easier for her and she was able to quit working.  She sent us off to school every morning with a hot breakfast in our tummies.  And mom always made sure we were good kids.  She was a disciplinarian.  I remember some switchings I would rather forget!

Mom took us to church every Sunday and that's where I got my foundation for my belief in my God and Saviour.  She sang beautifully and sang with a group in our little church.  She always dressed so pretty and I thought she was beautiful. 

Mom is in a nursing home now, and suffers from dementia, but when I'm able to go visit her, we always talk of the people I grew up with and the people that went to our church.  She loves to reminisce of that time in our lives, and even though she suffers from dementia, she remembers those happy days.  We talk and laugh at some of the things she remembers about our friends, and we get quiet and sad when we talk of the ones who have passed.  And I love to guide her into conversations about her childhood and what it was like to grow up in that day and time with my grandparents.  I could listen to those stories for hours.

Mom's had a rough life, as far as her happiness goes, because she has always suffered from depression, but that made her laughter and her gorgeous smile that much more special.  My mom, truly was, and still is, a  lovely woman.  Her hair has turned silver, and her smooth olive skin has some wrinkles now, but the beauty of her youth is still seen in her face.

My dad wasn't around much at all when we were growing up, so I didn't spend much time with him.  He always worked on construction sites running the large equipment, like bulldozers and huge trucks, so mom would take me and my brother to see him at these sites, occasionally.  It's funny how things impress on our young minds, but the smell of freshly dug dirt always made me think of my daddy.  I can still see him sitting on top of one of those large machines, grinning down at me.

One summer, as a teenager, I stayed with him and my stepmom for awhile.  We spent the whole time camping with my uncle and his family.  I got acquainted with one of my cousins during that time and I still think of her and the fun we had that summer.

When Daddy got older, my brother who lived with him and cared for him, decided Daddy should spend some time with me, so Daddy came to my house for the first time ever.  Daddy was starting to lose his sight, but he still loved the outdoors, so I would take him driving up in the woods and mountains.  He kept wanting to see some deer, so I began to pray to myself that God would let him get a glimpse of just one buck while he was here.  We were driving on one of the backroads, when all of a sudden, I had to stop the car.  The reason was that the biggest buck I've ever seen in my life, slowly walked out of the woods right in front of my truck.  It casually strolled across the road, and, as light as a feather, jumped the fence on Daddy's side of the road.  It walked up the hill and out of sight.  As I sat there with my jaw dropped open, I glanced over at Daddy and he had a big smile on his face.  Because of his vision, I wasn't sure if he saw it or not, so I asked him if he did.  Still grinning, he just said, "yea."

Daddy would sit on the end of my couch by the window everyday and just sit there looking out, until one day I asked him what he was thinking.  He said he would like to see it snow while he was there at my house. 

Well, West Virginians know that you don't ask for snow, because it doesn't just snow here, it comes blizzards!  He got what he asked for.  It snowed so hard it knocked the power out for three days.  Thanks, Dad.

When Daddy was nearing the end of his life, I had a sudden urge that I needed to go visit him at the hospital, so I called mom, who was living in WV at the time, and told her I was going to see Daddy the next morning.  Me and Mom left at six o clock the next morning and was on our way to Tennessee.

When we arrived in the ICU, my sister was there and Daddy wasn't looking good.  I called my brother and told him that he needed to get there as soon as possible.  A few minutes later  when my brother arrived, we all gathered around Daddy.  There we were.  A dysfuntional family that had survived it all.  We were together once more.

Even though they said Daddy wasn't conscious, my brother leaned over to Daddy's ear and quietly said, "It's okay, Daddy.  We're all here now and you can go."  And within just a few minutes, we all watched as Daddy crossed over into life hereafter. 

No, we didn't have the normal "Leave it to Beaver" kind of household.  We were spread out and living our own lives, but in the end, when it counts, we were together.

I thank God for my mom and my dad and for all the traits they instilled in me.  It made me, me.  I love them both, and am so thankful for them.

In Laws

Day 20 and I woke up thinking about my sweet mother and father in law.  There's not been any two people that were kinder to me than they were. I miss them so.

When I was fifteen, my mom and stepdad moved back to Tennessee, but I stayed where I was.  There were nights I'd get scared by myself, and my soon to be in laws never said a word when I'd call their son, my boyfriend, to come and get me.  They opened their home as well as their hearts to me.  They always treated me with kindness and love.

My father in law was so sweet and loving.  He absolutely loved children more than anyone I know, and he adored his grandchildren.  They say imitation is the greatest form of flattery, and as I would watch my little boy, put his arms behind his back, lean forward and follow his Papaw through the house looking like his little shadow, I knew this statement was true, because as much as Papaw loved my boys, they loved him as much.

Papaw would pick at them mercilessly.  Everytime they would walk by him sitting in his favorite recliner, he couldn't resist a pinch, or a joke, or just anything to pester.  Sometimes they would say, "Aw, Papaw, don't do that" and he would kind of giggle, pull them up on his lap, give them a hug and tell them he won't do it again, and before they could hardly get off his lap, he was at it again.  Papaw was sure there was no one like his grandchildren.

He would drive miles to watch them play sports, and I don't think he ever came without bringing them some of his homemade peanut butter fudge.

When we moved away so my husband could enter medical school, Papaw went out and bought the lumber and made my two boys bunk beds.  My boys loved those beds and thought there was nothing like them.

When Papaw got so ill that he had to go to the hospital that was pretty far away from home, I got the priviledge of being the first one to stay with him.  But no one knew that he would pass on before anyone else would be able to come.  I was with him on his last day here.  I sat in a chair beside his bed, crocheting a scarf for someone, and talking to him about the boys.  He wasn't able to talk at this time, but he would let me know when he was uncomfortable or he would just smile.  It was unexpected, and it was traumatizing when he passed, but I'm so glad I was there with him, I wouldn't have it any other way.  It was just one small thing I could do for him after all he had done for me. 

My mother in law treated me as a daughter.  When she would go shopping and buy her daughter something, she would buy me something.  She was so good to me.  She taught me how to cook, how to do laundry,  and how to "keep" house.  She helped me with my babies when I didn't have any idea what I was doing.

There are many memories of sitting round her kitchen table while she told us stories of her youth.  She loved to tell those stories and we loved to hear them.

She and I would laugh and giggle together at whatever caught our fancy.  One time there were some dogs in the neighborhood that kept coming in the yard, so we took it upon ourselves to get rid of the problem.  We were sitting in her living room and she said, "come on, Joy", so I followed her through the kitchen to the back porch where she had a huge bag of potatoes.  She grabbed some and I grabbed some and we would open the door long enough to pelt the dogs with the potatoes and then go back for more.  We laughed so hard that we could hardly throw the potatoes.  We got rid of the dogs and we made a memory for a lifetime.

My mother in law was not an emotional kind of woman (other than if you did something to one of hers, then the fire came out), she wasn't a woman who spouted off "I love you's" or other endearing words.  She just showed you how much she cared by her actions.

When my mother in law was in the hospital, I went to visit her before I was leaving to go to Tennessee.  We talked about old times and fun times.  Before I left, I leaned over to give her a hug, and with tears in my eyes I said, "You were always so good to me and I love you, Mary."  She looked into my eyes, and with as much emotion, she said, "Joy, you were always so good to me." 

She doesn't know it, but she made me so proud that day to be her daughter in law.  I didn't feel like I had done anything for her, but she made me feel like I had. I do miss her , I miss our talks, I miss her phone calls. 

They're in heaven now with my daughter and my two nieces.  Mamaw is telling them stories and Papaw is picking at them mercilessly, and someday we'll see them again.

I am so thankful that these two people were my children's grandparents, I'm so thankful that they were my in laws and I'm so thankful they shared their lives with me.

Deuteronomy 4:9  Only take heed to thyself, and keep thy soul diligently, lest thou forget the things thine eyes have seen, and lest they depart from thy heart all the days of thy life: but teach them thy sons, and thy sons' sons:

It's All Good

Day 19 and I'm so thankful for God's creation.  I live out in the country and have a few acres, so I get to look out in my fields, and almost daily, see deer grazing.  I've seen turkeys and I've seen bear.  Once I even saw a mountain lion charging across my field! *shiver*  I've had escaped goats, cows and horses on my property.  You just never know what you might see when you walk out my backdoor.

I love my lunatic dogs that guard my home and make me feel safe (even though I know in my heart that they would probably hide behind me if something happened).  They are as big as small polar bears, but they think they're chihuahuas.  Cleopatra loves to hug...she'll stick her big head between my arm and body and wait for me to hug her neck.  Jezebel has a big ole sad face and is a gentle giant.  They love it when it snows and they'll lay out in the middle of the back yard when the snow has been frozen hard and the wind is whipping through the yard.   They look like big, bear skin rugs thrown out in my yard when they are being lazy.

When springtime rolls around, the woods around me are in a flurry with birds chirping, the trees are budding, flowers are blooming and there's a sweet fragrance in the air.  Springtime is my favorite time of the year.  I love looking out at the mountains of green, speckled with the whites of wild dogwood and the bright purples of redbuds. 

In the summertime, I love hearing the lawnmowers buzzing in a distance, and smell the sweetness of cut grass.  I love taking our boat out on one of the many lakes in our beautiful state and enjoying the solitude it brings when we're up in a cove with no one around us but the mountains, the lake as still as glass, and the squirrels and birds rustling in the woods.

I love when, in the fall, the mountains look like a large quilt that God has put together, with all the different colors on the trees.  The sky seems larger and it seems bluer than any other time of the year.  I love the smell of the leaves as they fall and dry up for a new start next year.

And, even though I do not like cold weather, there is such beauty in the way that God blankets the earth in pure white, and it causes the animals to quiten and the noises to still.  There's something so cozy about looking out the window at trees dressed in white, while we're inside listening to the fire crackle and pop in the fireplace.

I'm so glad that I have a God that loves me and that loved me enought to make the earth beautiful and for my enjoyment.  I don't believe there was an accidental creation, no "bang" and everything was formed and functioning for centuries upon centuries.  I believe a loving God blessed us with creation to look at, to smell, to enjoy.

Psalms 104:24  O LORD how manifold are thy works!  in wisdom hast thou made them all: the earth is full of thy riches.

The Crud

Almost didn't make it for day 18 because I've been in bed, sick all day.  But even though I feel like someone ran over me with a truck and poured hot lava down my throat, I can still be thankful.

I am thankful that tomorrow, or maybe the next day, I'm going to be feeling better.  I know that whatever this crud is, it will be gone in a few days and I'll be back to normal.  I'm not facing some terminal illness like some of my family and loved ones are.  I'll be getting better, so hopefully, I can still be a blessing to those I love to help them through their own illnesses.

I'm thankful that my husband takes care of me when I'm sick and that he tries to crack some corny joke to get a smile out of me, even though I don't want to smile and I want to throw my pillow at him.

While laying in bed, half the day, I have been able to think about getting ready for Thanksgiving Day, for how God has blessed us so that we'll be able to have enough food that everyone will be stuffed several times over.

I'm thankful that my family will be here, and that I have a loving family that doesn't fuss and squabble over things.  Our day will be filled with laughter and silliness, and I love every goofy thing that goes on.

I'm looking forward to getting out of this bed and getting my home ready for all my company.  I'm looking forward to another day that I can give thanks for all that God has blessed me with.

Psalms 103:2 Bless the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits;

Lazy Mornings

Day 17 is giving thanks for those lazy days when I can sit in my pj's and watch old movies with my family.

I got up this morning (late, I might add) wandered into the kitchen to make me, my hubby and my oldest son some breakfast.  While mixing the batter for homemade buttermilk biscuits, my husband sat and talked with me and moved around the kitchen getting me things I needed for our meal.  I had the bacon frying in the skillet, while I was rolling out my dough.  I use one of my large glasses to cut the biscuits because they like the huge biscuits for their eggs and gravy.

It doesn't take long for the smell of bacon to waft up the stairs to reach my son's room, so he comes down a few minutes later. 

The sun is shining through the windows, we see a few deer grazing in the field, and watch our dogs press their faces up against the window with their tails wagging.  They smell the bacon, too, and know what's to come.

After the bacon is fried crisp, the gravy is bubbling and the eggs are ready, we fill our plates and congregate in the living room to watch an old Christmas movie on the television.

As we sit there and watch the same movie we've seen a half dozen times, we reminisce about the first time we watched the movie and how we all giggled and laughed at some of the antics.  And while we reminisce, we still giggle and laugh once more.

As the movie is nearing the end, and as all Christmas movies do, it becomes touching, and I look over at my husband and he's all teared up...again...as in all the times before when we watched the same movie.  This gives me such a feeling of peaceful joy.

I love my life.  I love my family and I'm so thankful God has blessed me.

My Girls

Day 16 of thanksgiving.  I woke up this morning with my girls on my mind.   Well, maybe I should say my boys' girls...their wives...their fiance.  I am so blessed to have these three women in my life.

When my boys were young, I used to pray that they would find companions that loved God, and loved them above all others.  God answered my prayers.

My youngest son fell in love with a little girl in middle school.  They were young and carefree and in love.  Many people just kind of rolled their eyes at them because they were so young, but I could see something very lasting in my son's eyes and I only hoped that she felt the same.  Well, she did.  She was a couple of years ahead of him in school, so when she went off to college I was so worried that her head would be turned by all those cute college boys, but she was faithful. 

That was when I knew there was something so very special about her, her dedication, her loyalty and her love for my son. 

Through the years, she spent so much time at our home.  She, my son and I would laugh and giggle and just be silly.  We took many trips together and she became part of our family even before she was part of our family. 

Everyone kept saying they should wait until they were both out of college before they got married, and I kept asking why?  I knew they were in love, I knew they were going to get married, and I knew they were going to make it.  Why should they put their lives on hold because of some classes?  I was on their side.

There was a very sad day in our home when my dear, sweet mother in law passed away.  It just happened that her burial day was on my birthday, but there was one person who remembered it...my daughter in law.  She and my son gave me a necklace with a sweet, diamond chip heart on it.  It was so delicate, so beautiful.  I cherish that necklace because of what it means.  It said to me that in the midst of chaos and heartaches I mattered. 

When my middle son met a young girl that was friend's with my daughter in law, I knew nothing about her.  All I knew was that she was raised not too far from where my husband and I were raised, so that made us sort of kin.

She was a little shy when she first came to visit us, but it didn't last long.  We soon became more than acquaintances.  We became friends. 

When my son proposed to her, it was a family affair.  We had lots of people in our house that day, and we all knew the "secret", but she didn't have a clue.  When we saw our son take her out on the back porch, we knew it was time!  As he sat her down on a chair, he got down on one knee, and out in the field his dad drove up in his pick up with a huge sign on the side that went from the front to the back that said, "Will you marry me?" 

Everyone in the house had their noses pressed up to the windows watching all this unveil, while she was looking around at us with this comical, quizzical look on her face.  When it finally dawned on her what was going on, she just cried, and then I cried, and then everyone cried.  It was so emotional and so sweet.

Since that day, we've only gotten closer, my daughter in law and I.  While they were waiting on closing on a house, they were living in a motel room, which lasted several months, so I would go up, rent a room and hang out with her because I knew how hard this was for a young woman far away from family.  It was during these trips that our relationship became strong.  I've spent many days with them in their home and our favorite thing was going to Target and getting popcorn to munch on at night.  We even bought Target popcorn to take with us to the movies.  That stuff is good stuff! 

I've seen how much she loves.  Her family is so important.  Her God is so important. I'm very thankful she is part of our family and part of my heart.

And, then there is my future daughter in law, who is already a part of our family.  The thing that makes my daughter in laws so special is the fact that they adore my sons, and she is no exception.  She thinks my son is humorous, smart and can do anything.  I like this girl. 

I've watched her and my son encourage each other as they have gone through pharmacy school.  I've watched as they've supported each other through the exams, the rotations, and through graduation. 

I've watched her stand by my son when friends interfered.  And I've watched them work things out when things seemed hopeless.

She loves to shop...a girl after my own heart.  We've done some shopping, and have gone to movies, and I enjoy her company.  She loves her little family and that's so important to me.  Family is everything. 

As we sat at my table last night and began making plans for "the big day", I realized that our relationship, although good, is about to get even stronger.  She's already part of my heart, now she's going to be part of our family.  I'm looking forward to many fun days ahead, many girl's nights out, and lots of heart to heart talking.

So, you can see why I'm so thankful for my girls.  I love them, I'm proud of them, I'll defend them, and I'll open my heart and home to each of them.

My BFF's

Day 15 of thanksgiving moments will be about my dear friends.  Some have said that if you can say you've had one good friend in your lifetime then you can consider yourself blessed.  Well, I've been blessed a few times.  I have had lots of friends, but there are a few in there that have shared my heart.

My closest childhood friend and I were inseparable. I'll call her K.  We giggled through the nights, played through the days, and barely took time to eat before we were off on another adventure.  We kept the roads hot between our houses riding our bicycles.  We loved climbing the surrounding mountains together, taking our little lunch boxes with us (which by the way, on one of the mountains there are still two little boxes we left behind when we were scared and left in a flurry of screams, giggles and sliding down the mountain side). 

We had weddings in the front yard, complete with my sisters old prom dresses, we climbed monkey bars in the schoolyard and we whispered through the night about cute boys in the neighborhood.  There was no end to our imagination and where it would take us during our pretend excursions.

She could play the piano like a professional, so we talked my mom into letting her be the one to give me piano lessons instead of the lady down the street.  I hated piano lessons.  When it was time for her to come to the house for the lessons, we'd sit down on the bench, and it would be my turn to start playing all the little songs that I was supposed to have practiced that week.  Since I spent all my time playing and running around with her, I had no time for such a menial thing as piano practice, so while mom was out of the room, listening to "my" recital, K would playing the music herself.  We felt so clever for that little deception.

Halloween was fun for us.  It was back in the day when parents could let their children go throughout the neighborhood by themselves and not fear for harm.  Everyone watched out for each other's kids.  One particular halloween, we decided to dress as a two headed person.  We took a pair of pants and a shirt from my stepdad, we were so tiny we could each get into a leg of the pants, and we buttoned the shirt up around us with both our heads popping out the top.

You have to remember that this was back when the men's pants were pegged, or for those of you who have no idea what pegged is, they were sewn super small to just fit around the ankles of the men. So, instead of actually walking down the road, we were shuffling.

We were on a section of road, after dark, that was kind of secluded and we heard someone walking behind us.  We struggled to turn our two heads around to see who was behind us, only to see that it was the boy who had dropped out of school, wore cigarettes rolled up in his sleeve, had his hair greased back, and was rumored to have hurt a girl.  Why does fright cause little girls to giggle uncontrollably? Our hearts were beating out of our chests, we were whisper giggling , and shuffling so fast I think we were causing sparks! 

It's funny how I met my next special friend, R.   K introduced us.  K was a year older than me, so she was in high school and was moving on in her life to things that included other friends.  Our friendship never changed, just the time that we were able to be together.  From the moment R and I were introduced, it was nonstop laughter.  I mean the can't catch your breath kind of laughter.

My high school days included my new friend R.  We became inseparable, too.  We were at that "I'm in high school now, so I'm pretty sure I'm grown" stage.  We had classes together, we were cheerleaders together, and we were best buds.  Boys were our main topic of discussion.  Music was almost as important.

There were many times that after dark and time to go to bed, one of us would call the other and say, "Can I come over" so we'd meet half way between our houses, in our pajamas and laugh ourselves to sleep that night. 

Everywhere we went, we were accompanied by my german shepherd, who was about as goofy as we were.  I can recall many times when my dog would peel up some road kill and chase us down the road with it, while we were screaming and squealing.

Our daily escapades at school were even better when we'd rush home to tell her mother everything that had happened.  Her mom would laugh and giggle as hard as we would.  She loved hearing our stories and I loved telling her.  R and I would listen to the popular music of the day and would dance through her house and out the door.  There were nights of us dancing down her steps and onto her sidewalk, while we were clad in our pajamas.  I will never forget those carefree days.

Later on in life, after I had my own family, I met another lady at our new church.  Her name is S.  It probably wasn't a good idea for us to get together, because we fed off each other.  We also became inseparable.  Our families ate together, went to church together and hung out together, but it was when she and I were alone that it became borderline insanity.

Our favorite thing was driving around and looking at homes for sale. That's not so bad is it?  Well...it depends...and I'm not saying that we would do such a thing, but it has been noted that if the house is empty and the door is unlocked that some people might just go in and look around.  Just sayin'.

Shopping was always an adventure that ended up at our favorite restaurants...thus, the expanding waistline.  Thanks, S.  We travelled a few times together on mini vacations, and I won't go into details.  We'll just leave it at that.

S finally moved away to be nearer her children, and it's probably a good thing.  There was nothing but trouble when we were together, but, boy, it sure was fun.

I still have so many friends and I consider myself blessed.  But, those friendships were more than that.  They were sisterhood.  They were two people sharing the same heart and I still love my dearest friends and when we get together, it's like no time has passed. 

Aristotle said, "What is a friend?  A single soul dwelling in two bodies."  These were my friends, and I am so thankful that they gave me a part of their lives.

Proverbs 18:24  A man that hath friends must shew himself friendly: and there is a friend that sticketh closer than a brother.

My Sister My Friend

Day 14 is a day of thanksgiving memories of my sister.  I don't know how I'm going to condense my sister down to one page, because she deserves a book.

She was nine years older than me, so there are no memories of playing dolls together, or wearing each other's clothes, but there are stories of admiration, laughter and love.

My sister took care of me from the time I was born.  I guess I was her real life baby doll.  Our parents divorced when I was three, so Daddy wasn't around and Mom worked everyday, so we didn't see alot of her.  We were very poor, but I didn't know it because my sister helped make my life happy.

My brother, my sister, and I slept in one room, and I usually slept with my sister.  We had an old radio sitting at the head of the bed, and we'd go to sleep with songs from The Beatles and Elvis filling the room.  If we didn't have the radio on, then my sister would sing songs for me until I went to sleep.

Every morning when we would be getting ready for school, I would think how beautiful she was and always would ask her to twirl around so I could see if her skirt would spiral out like a ballerina's.  I don't remember her ever getting tired of that game. 

There were many times when she would take me on dates with her. I'm sure the boys just loved this idea...said with much sarcasm, but with a grin on my face.

On Saturdays, we would catch the bus to town, and we would window shop and occasionally go see an old Bob Hope movie at the Bijou.  When I graduated from kindergarten, I was in a play and mom said I needed a new dress.  It didn't occur to me that anyone but my sister would take me on this special day, so my sister took me uptown to shop for the perfect dress.  Since, basically everything I wore was hand me downs, this day was  wonderful.  I was "Mary, Mary ...how does your garden grow?" 

 We found the perfect little dress!  It was green with little, different colored flowers embroidered around the bottom of the skirt.  I felt like a princess.

When she would have a girlfriend over for the night, the girls got kind of aggitated at this little red headed intrusion into their discussions of boyfriends, school and teenage drama.  However, my sister saw no problem with it, and didn't hesitate to say so.  I admired her so.

When she got married and moved away, I felt so alone.  She was my sister/mom and I missed her.  But,  I think she missed me, too, and she would have me come and stay with her for days and days. 

My mom remarried and we moved to another state and my visits to my sister weren't as often.  However, during the summer, I would stay for weeks with her.  By this time, she had given me a little nephew.  He was my best little buddy.  I held him, fed him and played with him.  She never made me feel like I was an intrusion, or any trouble.  I was still her little sister and we had good times.

After I married and had my own family, we still made time for each other.  I would take my kids and go stay at her house, or she would come to mine.  This time of year always brings a flood of memories because she would bring her family to my house for Thanksgiving.

They would arrive on Wednesday evening.  My husband and her husband would settle down for some tv, while our boys would gather for some games and goofiness.  She and I would go to the kitchen, turn on the Christmas music, and the cooking would begin. We made homemade pumpkin pies, homemade stuffing, potato salads, macaroni salads, and jello salad.  We always traditionally made a green jello salad, with nuts, fruit, and cream cheese that got the name "puke salad" that everyone gagged at, but my sister and I loved it and we'd make it just to get that reaction. 

Usually, the day after Thanksgiving, after we'd stuffed ourselves like the Thanksgiving turker, we'd go on an outing.  We had an extended cab truck with a camper top on it.  We'd throw the boys in the back with sleeping bags and snacks while the adults would get in the front, and off we'd go to who knows where.  We made many movies of our outings and they are all filled with laughter.

Oh, and did I mention the laughter?  When she and I would get together, it became a contagion.  Everything made us laugh.  We'd laugh at everything that moved.  I can remember laughing so hard and thinking to myself "can someone actually die from laughing" because we couldn't stop and we couldn't get our breath.  I remember a time when we were sitting on my front porch of an apartment I lived in and the lady across the street was so nosy that she'd pretend like she was washing the window on her storm door just so she could see what we were doing.  After days of this, my sister and I decided we'd put our hands up to our eyes, like binoculars, and look back at her.  We did this and then we nearly fell off the porch laughing at ourselves.  We always cracked ourselves up.

A quote I read that is us, "Of two sisters one is always the watcher, one the dancer."-Louis Gluck.  She

was my watcher as I danced through life.

I love my sister.  She's been everything to me my whole life.  She's been mom, sister, and best friend, and I'm so thankful God put her in my life.

1 Thessalonians 5:11  Wherefore comfort yourselves together, and

edify one another, even as also ye do.

Proverbs 17:22  A merry heart doeth good like a medicine,

Wife, Mom...Me

Day 13 of thankfulness is going to be centered around me.  Yep, you heard it...me.  Today, I'm going to be thankful for being able to be Mom and a wife.

I have had many titles throughout my life...daughter, sister, cheerleader, secretary, student, office manager, billing clerk, and on and on, but my favorites are mom and wife.

When I first started this "wife" thing, I pretty much sucked at it.  I couldn't cook anything but eggs, toast, boxed pizza, and brownies.  I remember calling mom to get a recipe for her buttermilk biscuits.  So, I went out to the store and bought the milk, flour, and shortening.  Ohhh.  When one says flour, it needs to be specifically spelled out "self-rising flour."

I made these little flattened patties that could have been used to knock out a cow.  When my husband cracked one on the edge of the table, I didn't find it humorous.  Shortly thereafter, my mother in law bought me a cookbook. 

Housekeeping? Ha!  My mom wasn't much on me helping out when I was home other than making my bed.  She would rather do it herself, so that left me in a quandry.  For some reason, when I came home, my house wasn't magically cleaned.  And now, not only did I have to clean my own messes, I had to clean someone elses.  Well, I didn't sign up for this.

After thirty six years of marriage, I'm doing better.  I'm a really good cook.  Housekeeping? Nya.  I do okay but it's not one of my favorite things about being married.  As a matter of fact, it's so much more fun to be writing a blog than mopping floors.

Sometimes when I grumble about picking up socks, or putting away dishes, I'm reminded of a ladies group meeting I attended one time.  We were talking about these very things...dirty socks, dirty dishes, dirty house.  One elderly widow lady quietly replied, "I just wish I had someone's socks to pick up." 

Kind of puts a new perspective on this cleaning thing.  So, now when I find myself grumbling, I remember her statement and am so thankful that I have a husband (not the socks, so much).  I'm thankful that I have a husband who loves me above all others.  It's such a good feeling to know someone wants me to be happy, someone who, when he sees me smile, makes him smile.  It's good to know that I'm the most important thing in his life. 

Yes, he spoils me pitifully and I enjoy the spoiling.  It's not the things he gives me, but it's the reason he gives to me that spoils me.  Everytime he brings me home a moonpie (my weakness), it says to me, "I was thinking of you today."  He's so funny at Christmas time.  He's always grinning and telling me he saw "ole Santy" at the store.  I get so tickled at how much fun he has giving to me and it's fun to him because he loves me.  And I love that.

I love being his wife.  I love being introduced as his wife. I love that he wants to take me to his conferences and dinners.  I love that he loves being with me.  I love being his best friend.

Being a wife is like having this huge chocolate cake and you can eat it all without gaining any weight.  Happiness.  And being a mom is like smearing chocolate frosting all over it.  Ecstasy.

I never knew happiness or love existed in such intensity, until I held my first child.  My goodness, it makes your heart swell because there is so much love in there.

Being Mom has been the most satisfying experience of my life.  I cannot comprehend how anyone could ever even contemplate harming those little souls, or leaving them, or putting my own wants ahead of theirs. 

The job is demanding, exhausting, frustrating, aggravating, and overwhelming.  It's also fulfilling, heartwarming, joyful, hilarious, and extremely rewarding.  I wouldn't trade it for any amount of selfishness in the world.  My children's lives are much more important than anything I could want, more important than anyplace I could go, more important than any selfish desires I could have.  They are my life.  And I love my life.

My children are all grown.  I have a son in law and daughters in law.  They all have their own lives, but the "mom" feeling is just the same.  It never changes. 

I'm so thankful that the Lord allowed me to be a wife and mother.  I'm so thankful for my husband.  I'm so thankful for my children. Oh!.... and did I tell you about my grandchildren....

Proverbs 18:22  Whoso findeth a wife findeth a good thing, and obtaineth favor of the Lord.

Ephesians 5:25  Husbands, love your wives, even as Christ also loved the church, and gave his life for it.