Eighteen??

Today's the day!

Yes, it's a day of craziness and another day of sending Troy off to work at a job far away after he survived, nay, thoroughly enjoyed his first week. Add to it a birthday for a 13 year old complete with Harry Potter film fest, a basketball tournament and an out of town basketball game

and we are a family ON THE GO. Oh... of course today is Open House for the house, so I SHOULD be dusting, scrubbing, sweeping, mopping, straightening, or tossing something, but right now I have to pause to remember.

Eighteen years ago this morning I was waking up for the last time as a single woman. It was a muggy Louisiana morning (there are about 4 per year that aren't). I remember certain vivid details about my wedding day, few of them that you want to hear. I do remember my Poppa Max's booming voice as he prayed over us. I remember poor Roxanne, my maid of honor, had a sinus infection. It POURED on us after we left from our honeymoon. And I thought I loved Troy more than I ever would or could.

Eighteen years later I love him still and I love him more. I have made no secret of the fact that our marriage isn't perfect now and has had its share of trouble... which is why I love him so. We have both fought hard for what we have which makes it that much more precious.

Troy and I both are "out there" folks in our own way -- he is a networking/ making things happen guy, and I am the write about what has happened gal. God taught me years ago that my emotions and happiness don't depend on Troy (that is God's place in my life) but Troy very ably steps in and reminds me of my gifts, points out where I might best use them in God's kingdom, and when Satan tries to convince me it won't work or I can't do it, Troy points out the lie that is. The "being comfortable in my own skin" that has come with age has also come from being married to Troy. My skin is pretty comfortable next to him, too.

So, in the midst of this crazy day, happy anniversary to the love of my life. I hope we get way more than 18 more.

I thought this post, by Matt Hammit of Sanctus Real, was wonderful for today. If you haven't heard of his story, Matt's baby, Bowen, was born about 6 weeks ago with serious heart complications. Following surgery, several scary days, and a LONG stay in the NICU, Bowen FINALLY came home this week... one day before Matt had to leave for a show. He talks about his struggle to find that elusive balance we all look for.

Road Trip

This weekend I had the privilege of traveling to, and speaking at, a reunion honoring a choir instructor from my high school. I feel a little guilty because she could not have possibly had as much fun as I did at that reunion.

Roxanne and I were able to spend most of the day together and that was simply joy. No kids needing us, no husbands quietly sighing their boredom, no other family members needing just one more thing. Lots of talking, figuring, catching up, and reasoning.

Thing is, Roxanne and I talk enough that there wasn’t much catching up to do, so we were able to delve in. Go deeper. One thing we discussed is how glad we were that we grew up in that precious town, and how glad we are that we left it to grow our children up. We also talked about how great it was to go home and all insecurities and high school “caste systems” were done away with: it was just home. I think it took 20 years for it to be that way -- the 10 year reunion wasn’t quite so comfortable.

The travel there was easily the worst part of the whole weekend, especially considering the total travel time was exactly equal to the time that I was awake on Saturday: 17 hours. Obviously, I don’t travel by myself very often any more, so I had ample time to consider the pros and cons of solo travel.

Pros:

1. I am queen of the temperature.

2. I am queen of when to stop.

3. I am queen of when not to stop.

4. I am queen of the radio/ CD/ talk radio/ not-talk/ music/ volume.

5. No back seat drivers.

Cons:

1. It’s boring.

2. No one to blame wrong turns on.

3. So boring.

4. No one to dial/ text/ screen calls.

5. Boring really doesn’t adequately describe it.

6. No one to relieve you as a driver.

7. It is just! SO! BOOOORRRRIIINNNNNGGGG!!!!!!

So, as you can see, being queen certainly has its place, but it cannot outweigh the drawbacks of traveling alone.

Let me clarify -- this was a 500 mile (one way) trip. A shorter trip of about 150 miles would be a breeze and just about enough time to clear my head and get all my good music listened to. Mile 300 is about where I start to slide onto the floorboard and wallow.

The return trip on Sunday was brutal as it POURED rain for the first 250 miles, then drizzled for another 150. During the pouring rain there were cars all over the median and ditches, as well as a few 18-wheelers, that evidently can’t keep it at 75 in the blinding rain like they thought they could.

So, I’m thankful to be back safe. Thankful for the legacy I have and to celebrate it at a reunion.

What about you -- do you do reunions? Been to a homecoming this fall or planning to go to one? Why or why not? Talk to me people!

No, I mean a REALLY Good Friend

On Friday, Roxanne sent me a link to an article that pertained to something that happened 19 years ago. The article had me going through old letters from Roxanne looking at things from around that time.

I haven't done a 'tribute to Roxanne' blog post (have I? I honestly don't remember), though she has somewhat done one about me. (or two) While I was chuckling over letters, my kids asked me where I met Roxanne. It kinda all started here: But really, how cute are we? That was our first grade picture and let me say that I, like most of the rest of first grade, didn't appreciate the wise soul that is Roxanne. She is someone that was born an 'old soul' which is great and wise, but not-so-fun in 1st or 2nd grade. She was also a little, um, how might one say, LOUD. Roxanne has presence. Still does. Needless to say, her friendship wasn't always appreciated in elementary school, but in my very tiny school where my enormous class of 17 or 18 was the biggest (and worst behaved according to every teacher we had) sometimes you would take what you could get. If nothing else, she was simply always there.

In time, Roxanne and I did land in the same circle of friends, then we formed a ridiculously close friendship during play practice, on chorus trips, and out of town football games. Our friendship thrived on written communication. If you think I am a lover of words... wow. You just need to hear all of Roxanne's. After Roxanne teaches 8 sections of Language Arts and talks to her husband and children all day, she is about half-way through using her words for the day. So she calls me.

Roxanne has written me notes and letters and cards and emails and all manner of communication. Besides letters from my grandparents, parents, and Troy, I have VERY few letters that I saved from college other than the ones Roxanne wrote to me.

Reading back over those letters of 19 years ago made me laugh at the pie-in-the-sky (and always trying to lose weight) two of us. It made me wish I could gather both of us together sit us down and say, "Listen up, girls..." But I wouldn't have dared to do that, because I know we wouldn't have listened. We had plans, we had dreams, we had hopes, and we had 5 more pounds to lose. (Um, Roxanne, why is it that YOU were going to marry the cowboy and now it is I that lives in the desert, married to a cowboy, with a deer blind needing a home sitting in my back yard?)

My friendship with Roxanne -- just like my relationship with anyone else on this earth, I guess -- has gone through seasons. I wouldn't ever say a really bad one, but there have been many times it's been a blessing that she lived 350 miles away from me. Sometimes I had plenty (as my mother would say) "to say grace over" in my own life, I didn't have the strength or capacity to carry anyone else's burden, nor did I ask her to carry any of mine.

I have confessed to her more than once that were it not for her consistent "callin' to check on ya" to me that I would have let our friendship fall by the wayside in our twenties -- in that season of young adulthood when everyone feels the need to shed 'childish' ways and relationships, even those that may be of infinite value.

We are in a very comfortable season of frienship right now. I think it came about with the myriad of changes in Roxanne's life in the last 12-18 months and the one major one in mine (quitting work), it was easy and comfortable to turn to someone that didn't require much explanation or pretense. Through the sloughing off of externals that signify major change for each of us, we see that we still have each other.

As the event of last week brought out those letters, and I re-read them, I thought again of this friendship I have. This crazy, amazingly blessed friendship. The letters I was reading were from the summer of 1990 -- months before I even met my husband, who I am soon to celebrate 17 years of marriage with! That is a LONG friendship!

Roxanne has presence, as I've said. She also doesn't hold back: words, love, emotions. I vividly remember Poppa Max chuckling and saying, "You know, when you've been hugged by Roxanne, you've really been hugged!" As a teenager I confess a limited patience with such ooshy-gooshy emotion. It was too much for me, who put a LOT of effort into trying to always appear to be completely collected and even-keel.

So I read her proclamations of her friendship love for me -- that sounded similar to scripture you read about Jonathan and David. I have confessed not-too-long ago that their friendship just makes me uncomfortable. What I know now, my 2009 self, with same-sex attraction swirling everywhere, is uncomfortable with the love professed between Jonathan and David. I had to re-think those words as I read what my 1990 self would have read from a dear friend: the same type of profession of friendship love, a gratitude of a friendship that understands and that is unmoving.

And above all, I am grateful. Few people can claim such a friend ever in their lifetime. I have been able to claim such a friend FOR a lifetime.

And to All,... A Good Night!

The end of a wonderful Christmas Day in our home. We have no (blood) family in this town. That has left the 4 of us to become rather selfish with our Christmas Day. Maybe I'm doing my children a disservice, but it's pretty much a day devoted to whatever the world we wanna do. Which looked like this today: Wii, waffles, more Wii, a nap for me, more Wii, Ashley and Troy hunting, Wii challenge for Riley and me, a walk for Duchess and me, dinner, and now the Wii blazes on.

Oh... we got a Wii, can you tell? Back when two incomes were still rolling into this family, Santa sprung for a Wii and WiiFit for the fam. The WiiFit ... a little humbling, to say the least. I'm in not-bad-shape, but I can't get my WiiFit to even tell me I am my OWN age, much less any younger. Bummer. Leaves me with a goal, I guess.

I'm curious about the food traditions for Christmas for you... Breakfast? What's always on the menu? We have ALWAYS had 'monkey bread', but this year Troy wanted waffles. So, the kids agreed to waffles if I'll do monkey bread soon. Saturday it is. Also, we don't do turkey, et. al for Christmas day. I do something my whole family likes and will eat. Today, none of the cooking went too well. I burned the sausage with the waffles. The waffles didn't come out right. The dish I make for dinner we call "Angel Hair". Guess which kind of pasta I failed to pick up? *sigh* Again, this day is for screw ups and do-overs and rejoicing in the One whose mercies are new every morning. Good thing -- my cooking brain definitely took a holiday today!

That confession is especially for those friends that I boasted to yesterday "I am DONE with my shopping -- I plan ahead!!" Pride before the fall, as well as the spaghetti called "Angel Hair".

So tomorrow brings me back to more wrapping and planning and packing for another Christmas. Oh -- I didn't mention my ONE cooking success. Gingersnaps. OH. MY. STARS. I have easily eaten two dozen -- I'm not exaggerating a cookie, and may be underestimating. I got a WONDERFUL recipe that made a HUGE batch. Thankfully, after my gorging, I still have about 6 dozen to take to Louisiana. I really need them away from me. Maybe if I just eat them all at once...

Roxanne is Christmas without her daddy.

Judy is Christmas without her son.

John is Christmas without his son.

Prayers for each of these precious people and their families.

Hard Christmas for so many, but "we do not grieve as one without hope". Our hope lay in the hay thousands of years ago, just for us. May you find His blessings this season.

*sigh*

The sigh of the heavy-hearted. Heavy hearted I am. My coffee group just returned from an amazing trip to Alabama, photos -- albeit a little fishy -- here. Our plane landed at about 11 a.m. and pretty much as soon as I could turn my phone on (to take this picture of the back of Kris Kristofferson in the Birmingham airport) I got a text from Troy with some fairly annoying news for us. Then, later in the day, at Denise's parents for dinner, Roxanne called to tell me that her dad had passed away that evening. I'm debating about whether I will continue taking my cell phone while I travel. But we did relay the story of his Sunday leg to her parents. What guy.

The funeral was today. I still can't believe I'm not there. I'm supposed to be there. Roxanne is the closest thing I have to a sister, and her dad is gone. He has circled up with his own mom, as well as a host of others. He has two healthy legs now. He has received the ultimate healing. I'm so thankful for him, and so sad for her and her family.

As I try to console myself, I realize that, really, for most of the unscheduled big things in our lives, Roxanne and I have been there for precious little of it for each other. Yet we're there. We stood next to each other through both of our weddings -- me beating her down the aisle by a few months only meant I had to be labeled a 'matron' at her wedding, which I did NOT appreciate. But since then the big milestones have been 'caught up on' with email and phone calls. And this will be no different.

The funeral is there, 500 miles away, and I am here, juggling too many mom/teacher/wife/church-type-folk obligations to break free. I picked up the phone to call her 4 different times yesterday, but my throat tightened too much to speak and my tears blurred the phone to dial. I know I can't DO anything being there, but I need to help her cry. Evidently, I'm doing that from here.

On a far happier note, I actually won a prize-type-thing from Antique Mommy. Who knew, but chocolate is included in the prize, and I think it goes without saying that I could use some chocolate right about now. And that artwork from Sean? Will cheer me right up!

Roxanne and Harold

I'm letting Roxanne guest blog for me today/ tonight.

First, Roxanne tells you about our history together, as well as shows some hilarious and incriminating pics here. She continues the story and shows more pics here.

All of the pics, including one of my own recent posts, make me wonder if I am involved in some chin-sharpening experiment unawares. That is one pointy chin. I digress. As always.

Roxanne goes into detail telling a story I've always known, because I've always known Harold. (and never, never, to his face would I call him Harold and if you saw him, you would immediately refer to him as "Mr. xxx", as well -- an imposing figure, he is). But I've never walked through it quite so vividly. Roxanne, thank you for putting it down for us!

Seriously, you need to know this story:
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3