The Brother's Funeral

This was a day to remember my Dad's uncle. My grandfather's brother. A man I hardly knew, but now know, I should've. Over the last week, I have winced and cringed at the thought of the grief that would follow finding a loved one gone. Especially the one with whom you have spent 37 years with. Your soul mate. Given to you, yet taken away. A father, a brother, a husband, a friend.

The funeral was as I expected it to be...... filled with the King James, and the sounds of gospel songs that have survived many years- (with good reason), filling our ears. Our Hope.

I filed in with Martin, into one of the family rows.... feeling that I didn't deserve to be there- that I hadn't spent enough time to deserve a space. I listened to the description of the man, the words that were a testament to the man that I didn't know he was. How he bought that new minister his new study Bible, how he would press money into the pastor's hand on Sunday mornings, all those things, unknown to us. Later, my sister comment that she didn't know these things about him. I mentioned that I didn't either. "But", I said "it is the ones that do these things quietly, that most often do it with the right heart."

Later, I sat with her... my great aunt. She is looking frail, and thin. Her hair is no longer her own. I can tell that she didn't think that the circumstances would be like this... All of us there, at her brother's funeral. I wasn't sure what to say to her. But, I grabbed her hand, and she held onto it. I was surprised by how firmly she grasped it. I told her, "I wanted to come by and talk to you...." Tears filled my eyes. "You've always been so kind to me." I was shocked when she started to cry. Her once pleasantly plump face crumpled, and her now frail shoulders started to shake. She mentioned the photos of the boys that I sent to her every Christmas, and told me that they mean so much to her. I told her that I'm so sorry for her loss, and how the older I get the more I love my siblings, and how I can't imagine....

She just cried, and held my hand, and then started to make small talk about how he (her hubby) was supposed to run go get the car...

I just want to thank her for always being so thoughtful, and kind.... she seemed to always love to be on the lookout for neat things for us girls....

And I just want to say that I feel the loss of this, my family, deep in my heart. No, I wasn't the closest. But I have felt losses like this, first hand, and I have you all in my thoughts and prayers.

Soccer Game Life

Beka, Kelly, and I sat in the middle of the food court, munching on our nutricious lunches of mall junk food. We all eyed the escalators from time to time- you never know who you might bump into in the town you grew up in, and still live in.

We were already sitting beside the girl Beka went to high school with- Jennifer, and her two kids- one eight, one 11 months. Beka marveled about how quickly time goes by.

It was St. Patrick's Day, and we laughed at the gaggle of green clothed people moving down the escalator. Beka and Kelly have big plans for the night. Not me... I'll be sitting at home with my boys. Could've gone to a St. Paddy's Day dinner party we were invited too, but Martin and I decided to stay in since it's been such a busy couple of weeks. As Kelly and Beka discuss their green outfits, and feather boas for the night, I look up and see a lady from my old church coming down the escalator. She used to be one of my JV group leaders at church. I tell Beka, "Hey, look, there's Mrs. _______________". She says, "Wow, look at her..." I finish her statement with"Yeah, she has aged very well", to which Beka points out that she hasn't aged AT ALL. I guess that's a loaded compliment.

Anyway, I got to thinking about that, today. I started thinking about my Mom, and my Mom's friends from when I was growing up. And I was thinking about Ladies' Bible Study on Thursday mornings, and all the moms bringing in their pot-luck dishes and their pre-schoolers- all to have a morning out. I remember the scene well, since my school was within the church walls. I guess back then, I didn't understand the value of that group. Just looked like a bunch of Moms hanging out to us. But now, I know. It's funny looking back, how things seemed so cliche... the moms. Soccer games, car-pool lines- boring, boring lives. It seemed that way to me.

But now, NOW, I realize they were me, once. And now, I'm becoming them. I LIVE for my coffee day with girlfriends on Wednesday mornings. It is a life-line; one way to have 2 or 3 hours out that might save your sanity for the week. How, when you're husband's out of town, you're all alone, and you NEED those other women. But it's not cliche. It's not a boring, boring life. It's a good, good life. Stressful, sometimes, but good. You can tell from my blogs that I have good days, and I have bad days. But I will say, that on a good day, the contentment that comes from meeting my family's needs is so fullfilling. And the knowledge that I am doing what God would have me to do, right now, at this time in my life, is very rewarding.

I write these blogs, never knowing where they will end up. Sometimes they end up way too long... sometimes too mushy, but I always have this need to communicate ideas, and they form on their own.

So, here's to my cliche, soccer game life. Lord, thank You for it.

Round Two

Ever feel like you do things two many times? My motto now, with two kids is, "It's not done until I've done it twice".

In a snapshot- cleaning those squished peas up off the high-chair, scrubbing down the chair, and giving it a good, detail cleaning... only to have Mason hand Coen (who's happily playing, not eating in the clean high chair) a handful of spaghetti sauce covered pasta. Enter second cleaning, of chair, and baby.

Diligently and carefully planting those brand new geraniums in their flower pots- carefully watering and applying Miracle Gro- only to turn around and see Mason "helping" carry the pot up the brick porch steps... "KERPLUNKKKKK", and down it goes, upside down- Miracle-Gro, potting soil, geraniums, and all. Enter second potting, as well as a good sweeping of the front porch steps.

Wrestling my squirming, squealing piglet of a baby, trying to dress him in PJ's- desperately and quickly attempting to stuff in a leg here, an arm there; only to get the other leg in, and find that he's pulled leg number one back out.

Just a few examples. I won't bore you with more. But, such is my life among the squished peas.

At times, it's hard to find the reward, and the humor among the circumstances. Other times, it's cracks me up. Depends on the day, I guess. Here's hoping it happens for you the first time around....

Squished peas, anyone?

Well, the little bundle of joy shown in my profile picture has now decided that he WILL NOT be a baby any longer.

Today, he reaches the official 9 month old mark, and must've known it because he's letting me know in every way possible. Just in the last week, he's gotten the crawling thing down, and is busy trying to investigate the Spanish moss of my fake Ficus tree, eat the wrapper off the firewood (you know, the store-bought stuff, for us), and chew and go for anything that looks remotely electrical- outlets, cords, and more. Don't worry, we're working on the child-proofing thing, but he keeps thinking up new ways for us to child-proof.

As for eating habits, he now buttons his lips shut, and/or cries everytime we bring a spoonful of baby food towards his mouth. No more of this mushy stuff for him. He's much happier with cheerios, or chopped pieces of pear or peas. Really though, the transformation has happened seamingly overnight. Two weeks ago, he was fine being a baby, but as of today- fawgetaboutit.

And so, we begin the battle of feeding time. Scooping out mushed peas, soggy cheerios, and Lord knows what else from his chair, hair, diaper and everywhere else. The parenting books say to put down newspaper under the high chair, so you can just scoop it all up after they've thrown it everywhere. I have to say.... not looking forward to this part....