Saturday, July 25, 2009

I Don't Like Caves

My husband's a Drilling Fluid Engineer. He drives 3-400 miles a day and maintains the correct drilling fluid properties on an average of 4 rigs a day. He's the 2nd most important person out there all though they are all important or the job wouldn't get done. What I did not know about the job is that it is cyclical. Meaning he either works 24/7/365 or nothing, ziltch, nada. Right now it's nothing, ziltch, nada. At least we are prepared for it this time, financially that is. He's been off work for 8 months. It's fine. We're fine. But between working on the T-Bird until 3AM with two other men I might add, then sleeping until 10 to make up for it, listening to and watching the news beginning with Rush at Noon and then Glenn Beck at 4 and solving the Rubik's Cube in between (I'm very impressed with that). I'm feeling a little bit claustrophobic. Kind of like I'm living in a Man Cave. How about I go get my hair done, take my mother to lunch, go see Amy and the precious babies then go shopping, go shopping, go shopping. Thank you I believe I will. I'm blessed.

Thursday, July 23, 2009

Sleeping With the Enemy

Do you realize we are at war? Not only at war but in war? I don't mean our country. I mean us, you, me, him, her. We sleep with, eat with, watch TV with, clean house with, walk with, talk with, work with, bathe with, brush our teeth with and constantly think with, the enemy. The enemy is within. The enemy is me, myself and I. When I accepted Jesus Christ as my Saviour for the forgiveness of my sin I received the gift of eternal life. His Holy Spirit came to dwell in me. The Holy Spirit did not replace my human nature. So now I have two natures living in me, my human nature and His Holy Spirit. Thus at 8 years old I entered a battle. It's a battle I have been and will continue to fight until the day I die. It has never been more clear to me than this week when fear, frustration, worry and pride came crashing in and I succumbed to blaming my husband for a situation he can not help. I felt myself actually jump from the spiritual nature to the fleshly nature. After 5 days and a major confrontation I jumped back again. It was like black and white. Hear and there. Now I'm battling a sinus infection. I've known for several years that my sinus/bronchitis episodes are directly related to my emotional and spiritual state. Oh, How Great is Our God and how little we understand about the interconnectedness of all things. Continue to teach me Lord and forgive me for being so self-righteous and stubborn. The battle is on 24/7/365. CHARGE! I am so blessed.

Plain and Not Plain

I love to cook. Well, maybe. . . . I think I do. I love to read cookbooks and search internet food sites and copy recipes and gather ingredients. But actually cook? . . . . Not until today. My wonderful tender-hearted husband has been working on his T-Bird trying to get the gorgeous obnoxious thing finished. (It was a 1965 piece of junk, now it's a 1965 collector's item) While he's been busy in the garage, I've been busy in the kitchen, or thinking about it anyway. The problem is my dear husband only likes meat and potatoes plain. Preferably fried. I have managed to incorporate a few green vegetables, but they must be plain. So today just for the fun of it and hoping in the back of my mind that he would taste them and declare, "This is fantastic!" I decided to whip up two recipes from TheVeganChef.com. I was bustling around in the kitchen almost singing when he came in for water, shirt soaked with sweat and asked me what I was making. I replied, "Green Beans Admondine and Garlic Mashed Potatoes". He very kindly said, "Well, maybe you could keep me some potatoes out?" My first thought was, "Oh come on!" But then I felt a compassion come over me and I said, "Sure." And I realized, it's not me he doesn't like and it's not that he thinks I can't cook, he just likes his food plain. A wave of peace has come over me because I can have my cake and eat it too as long as I make his plain. I am so blessed.

Tuesday, July 21, 2009

Just Can't Do It

Why is it that men think eating a meal is synonymous with watching TV? And maybe it's not just men and maybe it comes from the single days and just wanting a little noise in the house. But if I've put my heart and soul into preparing a meal and I don't do it every day the last thing I want to do is share it with my husband while he's glued to the TV. Oh, granted he does put it on mute to say the blessing most of the time. But then who cares what we eat if it's only an interruption to TV time. I've tried every which way to adjust to this but I am just unable to. That's one of the reasons why I like eating out so much. Rosa's anyone? Still Blessed.

Saturday, July 18, 2009

Visited By Angels? Nah, Just Men.


Two men came to the door and asked Mike if they could see the Garage Queen, I mean the Thunderbird. They ended up tinkering here and tinkering there and working on it until after midnight. The next day one of the men phoned Mike and said he wanted to bring a friend over to "see" the bird. They came over after working all day in their respective jobs and got to work, non-stop until close to 2 AM! The cavalry has arrived! Blessed again.

Friday, July 17, 2009

I Just Wanta Be Normal


Have you ever just wanted to be normal? Maybe I'm the only one, but I'd just like to eat supper every night at the same time. I'd like to sit down to a perfect, completely balanced, totally nutritous, fully satisfying meal and have the whole family push back from the table and say how wonderful it was and how content and healthy they feel. Am I asking too much? Isn't that normal? Why do I think it is? Ohhhh, too much 1960's TV? Oh yes, "Donna Reed", "Father Knows Best". "Patty Duke". The "perfect/normal" shows I watched religiously while I was growing up. I loved and absorbed every ounce of their propaganda. They lead me to believe that some where out there when you grow up, get married, become a homemaker, life is going to be perfect. If I know it's not true, why do I keep trying? Trying results in disappointment. Disappointment leads to frustration, and repeated disappointment and frustration moves to anger and suppressed anger turns into; not feeling well, loss of creativity, inability to think, reason, feel and express emotion, and an inability to see the beauty all around me. And just a downright crankiness to boot. Really, by wanting life predictable and routine and always the same I am trying to control. I'm telling God how to bless me instead of allowing Him to bless me beyond what I can think or imagine. I'm learning to live moment by moment. My husband is teaching me by example. I get up every day and I do not know what we're going to do, how we're going to do it or what we're having or even when we're having supper. Our life is very simple and I can do anything I want. I've found out however, I really don't want to do anything other than keep up the house, spend time with Amy and my precious grandbabies, enjoy this time of sabbatical with my husband and listen to God's voice. It's a relief not to feel as if I have to cook a picture perfect meal every evening thus proving to the world I have a "normal/perfect" life. Spontaneity. Live the moment. Enjoy the time. That is the new normal. I am so blessed.

Sunday, July 12, 2009

Ride Baby Ride




Our grandson rides motorcycles. He's six. He started riding when he was four. He had already mastered four-wheelers so they put him on a motorcross. His not yet four year old brother rides too. They invited us to a race and I stood there with my mouth gapping open. Where have I been all these years? I didn't know 4, 5, 6 year old kids could do that!! Aren't they supposed to be in the sandbox playing with little trucks and cars?

Saturday, July 11, 2009

I Did Share, I Thought


I had wonderful parents. They taught us everything we needed to know to grow up to be perfect, well adjusted, productive, law-abiding, Christian human beings. One of the first things I learned was to share. I shared everything, with everybody. I shared with my brothers, my cousins, the neighbors, my classmates. If I had something and someone else walked into the room or came over to play I shared. I shared because I had to. I was taught to share and my temperament didn't dictate that I challenge or question what I was taught. But sharing begin to feel like I was losing myself along with my stuff. Who was I and what did I want? Then, twelve years ago I got married and I learned to share for real. My husband gave me everything. Not because he had to or because it was his obligation as a husband, but because he loves me. And everytime I goofed he said, "That's OK." I really in my lifetime had never heard so many that's oks. He also constantly asked me, "What are you thinking?" Nobody that I could recall in my entire 43 years had ever asked me what I was thinking. Just a few days ago I found out he asked me what I was thinking all the time because I never talked. Well, I TALK NOW!! And I share now. Not because I have to. Not because I was taught to. Not because it is my obligation. But because he's given me so much it's overflowing. He taught me not only by giving and giving and giving to me but by helping himself to my food. Now no one has ever eaten off my plate, used my fork or drunk out of my glass. Even my babies had their own glasses and plates and spoons, etc. The first time he ate the second half of my English Muffin I cried. We'd only been married a couple of weeks and I was a bit overwhelmed. Besides he'd already had cereal and he didn't say he wanted a muffin. He said he was sorry. Now we share everything and I don't give it a second thought, in fact, I prefer it, towels, scrubbies, razors, deodorant, probably even toothbrushes (without knowing), always a drink out of which ever one of us has a glass of water, tea, or both. Always a bite of whatever we have on our plate or in our bowl or in our hand. It wouldnt' seem right if we didn't. Wouldn't taste as good, wouldn't be as refreshing. It seems to express in a tangible sense the reality of being one. One flesh, one mind, one soul, one spirit. And it's overflowing. I'm happy, I'm free and I want to give everything to everybody. The last brownie bite? Ummm . . . How about we half it? Blessings.

Wednesday, July 8, 2009

"I Was Wrong."


I said it. I said, "I was wrong." My husband and I were discussing, not a heated discussion just a discussion regarding the meaning of a legal notice he received about a piece of property his mother was heir to. Now he and his siblings are heirs. It's being sold for taxes. I had one assessment of the meaning and he had another. Chery called the lawyer. Mike's assessment was the right one. I said, "I was wrong." Later, I said, "I'm so glad I was wrong." Not because of the meaning of the assessment. It just felt so good to not be right and to admit it. I am so blessed.

Tuesday, July 7, 2009

Bye, Mom


It happened. It was wonderful. Ten days later I am still sorting through my emotions and tearing at the avalanche of out of this world memories.
On June 27, 2009, Aaron, my first-born son married Susan, the love of his life. It was a wedding weekend enjoyed by 100 plus people that will equal no other this side of heaven. Aaron and Susan worked with a wedding planner for over a year. Together they blessed their family and closest friends to a marvelous weekend. Lindsey, my precious niece and Aaron's cousin described it as magical and American royalty. Those are the words I've been missing. That was it exactly.
We danced, Aaron and I, it was a dance I'll always remember. I hugged him, hugged him tight and cried.
THE moment, the moment I'll cherish in my heart as long as I live on this earth is the moment Aaron and Susan, both so radiant, both so happy they could burst, came hurriedly down the steps amidst a shower of brightly colored confetti and before stepping into the limousine Aaron saw me, we made eye contact and quickly grasped each others arm in a forearm clasp, hand-to-elbow. Aaron excitedly, at the height of happy, contentment and completeness, said "Bye, Mom" and I knew it had happened; my first son, totally capable, totally amazing, sensitive, caring, strong, kind, just-lift-the-bar-higher-and-he'll-reach-it-son, had passed from one era of his life into the next. My job as his mother was done, not over, but complete for now. God blessed me with the greatest blessing and honor a mother can experience this side of heaven. I am forever grateful. May God bless us all.

Monday, July 6, 2009

Get A Job!!

Do you know what really bothers me? I mean, I used to have compassion, I used to feel sorry, I used to try to help whenever I could. But it's happening too often. Mary Kaye said it's because we drive a new Denali. I don't know if it's because we drive a new vehicle or not but several times in the last few months we have been approached by "desperate" people trying to get to "Abilene". Well, the first time a lady really did look destitute and had a cross racial little girl in the back seat drinking a . . . "Hey, it looked like a child's cup from Sonic . . . now that I think about it". . . . she, the "mom" asked me for gas money. I gave her the $7.00 I had in my purse and apologized for not having more. Mike was approached at 5 AM at a Town and Country by a young white man in a blue Nike wind suit who needed "Forty dollars to get to Abilene because his mother died." Mike said, "I'm going to give you the forty dollars, but I don't believe you." Two ladies standing outside Walgreens with a gas can asked my mom and me for a few dollars, we neither one had any cash. I felt badly because I felt they really were desperate. But who really knows. Two weeks ago we were approached by a lady who looked similar to the first lady minus the little girl needing just a little help to get to Abilene so "we could take care of this problem". Mike said no in a nice way. I'm sorry, but "we" don't have a problem and they are taking applications at Whataburger. More than once in the past couple of months I've been approached in a parking lot by a middle aged black man asking for donations for his church and he'll give you a carnival sized lollipop or other sensational-sized sugar whatever. Last night we were approached as soon as we got in the car by a hispanic man with a "wife and kids" in his car who reached his hand through the window past me to "shake" Mike's hand and poured out a sad story about being stranded and needed to get to "Abilene". Mike gave him $20 and the man reached through the window again to shake Mike's hand and said, "God Bless You." They all say that. I wanted to say, "Are you related to the lady who needed to get to Abilene a few weeks ago?" Is it just us or are people like this coming out in droves? We have decided that our answer in the future will be, "No". Don't make eye contact, don't engage, don't approach. It feels heartless but we're not. It's just not safe. Mary Kaye's here from Dallas, she's an EMT and told us countless stories about kind-hearted people just helping a "destitute" and ending up being shot or worse. I don't fear for my life or my safety because I know the Lord is in charge of my life and is protecting me but I do know we have to be wise and I know the closer we get to the end of this age the worse it's going to get. I'm thankful for churches and agencies where destitute people can get help to get to "Abilene", but career beggars can "Get A Job!"

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