It's been 28 days since my last post...

And I am still pretty much at a loss for words. Sure, I have plenty I could say, but really I'm not sure anyone wants to read it. Unless you suffer from insomnia. Then it might be helpful.

So, I'll give a quick run-down of the things I've done in the last 4 weeks...

We had my granddad's funeral May 5th. It was a great an honorable service. He would have been proud. Initially, my dad and his siblings were leaning towards not having the honor guard at the cemetery. I'm glad they changed their minds. I made a video on my digital camera - and as soon as I have time to figure out how to post it, I probably will. I am sure there will be those who feel it's irreverent or inappropriate and that's okay with me. Know why? My grandfather fought in WWII so we have the freedom to disagree.

Each year I travel for work. I visit all of our facilities (30 in 3 states this year) to present our benefits information as well as meet our staff. It's a good break in my norm, and I really enjoy visiting with our employees. So far, I have visited a total of 18 facilities, so I am a little over halfway done. I am spending the next week in the office so I can help with our invoicing, and then it will be off to the races again. The last few weeks of my travels are to our further away locations, so while I visit fewer locations, the travel is still pretty extensive.

On May 24th, my dad presented his testimony to our church. It was an incredible service. In a twist of fate (which for me means by God's ordination), it just so happened that my mom and another member were singing the special song. I had asked my dad if he would ask if I could pray as well, so it was a family affair. I managed to not cry big tears through his testimony until he got to talking about last November. He has been in many dangerous situations for his job(s), but given my age and cognisance of those events, they didn't hit me the way November's shooting did (and still does - since the investigation is ongoing and has yet to go before the grand jury - a formality of course, but one that feels like is DRAGGING!).

This weekend we went to my second cousin's wedding. It was a beautiful ceremony in the Armstrong Browning Library on Baylor's campus (Bryan folks - do y'all remember going on a field trip there? I'm trying to remember what grade we were in), and the reception was in the Roosevelt building downtown. It was elegant and classy and all of those things a girl dreams of for her wedding day. In spite of all of that (or maybe because of it), I pretty much lost it after the cake cutting and couldn't stop the crocodile tears from flowing.

God love my sister though, she took notice and subtly decided it was time for us to go. We did a little convenience store shopping, and hung out at the hot tub with my brother's family for a while. Then the bridal party (the family parts of it anyway) joined us and we had a good time just chatting. All's well that end's well, huh?

Papa

My grandfather passed away on Friday morning. He was gone barely 30 minutes after I left for work. It was a shock, because although he was 92, he was in perfect health. In fact, when my dad called the Dr. to let them know, the Dr. called back because he couldn't believe it. He was staring at the results of bloodwork done on Tuesday and everything was exactly as it should be. Just goes to show, we should never take time for granted because we are not guaranteed our next minute.

Since the grandsons will all be pallbearers, they thought it would be nice to give the granddaughters the chance to speak at the funeral on Tuesday. Following is what I have prepared...


In searching for the perfect thing to read here, I was at a loss. Sure there are plenty of poems and prose available, but they were not right. The sentiment was there, but the words were just too flowery to be what I wanted. Papa was not a flowery man – though he planted them when Granny asked him to. He was a potato, tomato, corn, peas, okra and onions kind of man. He was a cow working, sharpen his own tools kind of man. Poems with flowery words would not do him justice.

Papa lived a life full of stories and if you knew him a minute, you knew he could tell a tale. Visits to their house growing up meant sweet tea as only Granny could make it, soft peppermint candy from the jar in the kitchen, and getting beat at checkers on a homemade board by Papa.

They almost always also included a true – well mostly true, and sometimes completely false story told by Papa. He shared stories from his childhood. Given my mom was from the Tyler area, he often shared driving there with his dad in a Model T Ford to pick up his brother. It was an all day event and as a young child – maybe 8 or 9 years old – Papa would drive part of the way. The memory was so clear to him that he often asked about the brick streets when he retold the story while staying with us.

He told tales of a toothbrush salesman who would give free toothpaste to people as a way to lure them in. Only the toothpaste was not really toothpaste, and after using it, customers always needed a toothbrush. See any of us for the rest of that one. He shared another story about foiling a kidnapper who stopped to barter with him. The man was from Iowa and traveled with a little girl. He built Papa a chest for his sister in exchange for the wood he needed to build his own chest as well. He recounted being struck by lightening and the lifelong impact that had.

His prose took us to Japan with him as he retold his experience of fighting in World War II. One of the most profound stories shared was of the Army receiving excess meat that they were going to have to dispose. Being a man who didn’t waste anything, he asked some of the Japanese ladies if they could use it instead. They were thrilled to receive such a treasure. Not only did he provide sustenance and avoid waste, he showed kindness and compassion to people were victims of the war equal to the Americans being attacked. He had an opportunity to revisit Japan through pictures Kerri sent from her winter trip. The day they arrived, he nearly met me at the door to show me the album and share the story of her visit.

For Papa, the story was not as much abut the topic, as it was the presentation. He his eyes would twinkle and his mouth would shape into his story-telling grin. He practiced emphasis and inflection as well as gestures to make sure the tale was told exactly as it needed to be told. I am grateful for the gift God gave my parents and I to have him in our house the last nine months. It was an honor and a joy to hear his stories one more time.

Papa lived a life of example. He worked hard, valued family, served his country and had an unwavering faith in God. He enjoyed his garden, working cows, any ballgame and Blue Bell ice cream. He taught us to never let anyone win at checkers and to live a life worth retelling.

My Spot

Last week I was talking with a friend about the places we seek for solace and clarity.

Today was our second day of nothing but gray skies...perfect for how I felt. This afternoon my mood was of the second to worst combination - worried and tired (the worst would be tired, worried and PMS in case you wondered). My family is dealing with a pretty significant change in a very short period of time.

Back story...my Gdad came to spend the weekend with us during Hurricane Ike. After that, he pretty much decided to stay. He still has his house in Madisonville, and he visits from time to time, but he is staying pretty permanently at Chateau Stewart these days. It's been great getting to know him in a new way and I am thankful to have this time with him in this way. He went home for a visit with my uncle last week (and to do a little gardening). He has been totally different since he got home. My best guess is that something at the house was a trigger - but all of a sudden he is very disoriented and forgetful. He has been talking about seeing people who have been gone for years (my Gmom, his brother, etc). It's so very strange how quickly he seems to have declined. We went through some of this with my mom's parents, but their decline was much more gradual (until my Gdad died and my Gmom declined quickly). As hard as that was, I can see how it prepared us to deal with it again. He went to the doctor today and they are doing some tests. Hopefully it will be something remedied (or improved) with medication adjustments. I'll be praying for that (feel free to join me if you feel inclined - I would really appreciate it).

Anyway, so that's what's been on my mind since last Friday (when he came home). I worry about my dad too because he isn't getting much sleep (my Gdad has started to wander at night). And today he was driving in the rain with less than the ideal amount of sleep. I'm glad to report they both made it home safe and sound, and so far, my Gdad is in bed. Maybe tonight will be the night he makes it through until morning.

With all of that, and because of my recent reflections on my spot, I thought it'd be nice to share photos with you. When I had my driver's permit, my parents would let me drive around the resort where we vacationed (which is conveniently about 5 miles from our current house). In my discovery driven drives (you know I love alliteration), I really developed an appreciation for the peace and quiet that came with these two spots.

The first spot was at the end of a road which dead-ended to a pier which of course ends in the water. They have since built condos around it, so it is a little less serene during vacation season (though still lovely and peaceful this time of year). It's where I would go when I needed quiet back then...and where I have gone since moving when I needed calm. It's where my ex and I first said I love you (puke, I know), and where I often worked through a Bible study last spring.




My second spot is now a park (though still contained within the resort property). Before they put up the sign declaring it's park status, it always felt off the beaten path...though there was a definitive dirt road that led the way. To get to it, you have to wind down several roads, past a few houses and with a turn here and there. It didn't matter that we visited one time per year, after the first finding, the map to "my" spot was burned into my being.

A few years ago they designated it as a park and added a picnic table. When I went today, the picnic table was gone, and there was a huge pile of limbs and debris to the left of the shore. I'm sure the table will be back...but until then, I enjoyed the view, sounds and smells from the comfort of my new favorite flip flops (which are now profoundly muddy!).





Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid. John 14:27

The Best?

How do you define the best?

In most competitive sports, it would seem that the winner is always the best. Though, I think there is room for argument there. Sure the opposing team may have won, but that doesn’t necessarily mean they have the best talent used in the best plays, does it? Even the best have an off day, right?

This may come as a shock to you, but I’m not a competitive person. It’s probably why I am the queen of one year when it came to sports. I tried soccer for one year. I played basketball for one year. I took tennis for one year. I played softball one year. I was on swim team for one year. See the pattern? I always finished the year, but it wasn’t always fun. I really didn’t have the drive to care if we won or lost. The only thing I did longer than a year was dance. I danced for about 8 years. Go figure that my longest lasting activity was non-competitive.

I’ve never been the best. Maybe that’s due to my lack of competitiveness…but it’s true. I was certainly not the best of any of the above mentioned sports, nor was I close to the best dancer (Katy was and will always be the best dancer I’ve known). I participated in academic competitions – UIL and such, and placed in several events…but I don’t recall ever being first. I did well in school, but wasn’t valedictorian, nor did I graduate college with honors. I made perfect scores on test and papers, but even that didn’t designate me as the best.

I’m not the best daughter, sister or aunt (though I’m Alanna’s favorite…I taught her to say “please, you’re my favorite” when she wanted something and it’s stuck. I’m pretty sure if you asked her she would tell you she has 3 favorite aunts though). I work hard at my job (and succeed most of the time), but I bet I’m not the best HR Director in the world either. If you’ve read much of my blog, you know I’m not the best writer, nor am I the best at consistent blogging. I’m not the best of God’s children, nor do I always make the best decisions.

My intentions are mostly good – but we know about those and their connection to the road to hell. Some days feel like they are more about survival than succeeding. So I guess I wonder…though I may be the best at being me, am I the best I can be?

Speechless

Ever felt totally at a loss for words? Those reading who have known me longer than 10 minutes know that rarely happens to me. But here lately, I don't seem to have much to say on my blog. I have certainly written a blog for week 4 of our Bible Study...but the more I read it - the more I feel like it isn't worth posting. As a result, I have writer's block for weeks 5 & 6.


Don't get me wrong, I have a ton of thoughts and things swimming around in my head...but they are the same ol' things said different ways. This may be the very definition of being in a rut. I spend the bulk of my time at work, home and church, with the occasional tanning bed break (yes I know about skin cancer and the risk I am taking...frankly, it's the most living dangerously I do - aside from my walk to Mexico a couple of weeks ago - so humor me).


I feel some guilt for my writing absence. You see, I love reading other blogs and am actually one of those people who get a little tiny bit agitated when there isn't a new post for a while. I have never claimed to not be a hypocrit :-) But really, how much can one person expect another to read about how much I hate being single at this stage in life, how things have not gone as I thought they would, yada yada yada? In fact, I have probably exceeded most of your limits already.


For my married with kids friends, I want you to know - that even on your worst day, there is someone a little jealous of your life. Sure, I enjoy that I can travel and make plans without much thought and little consideration for how they affect others (dog-care is not as hard to hustle up as child care, I'm sure). I don't have to consult with anyone about a dime I spend. If I choose to wait an extra day or two to do laundry - no one is really the wiser.


But oh my goodness, think of the impact you are making on the world. You are responsible (albeit overwhelmingly at times) for another beings, well, being. You are their whole world, and the things you do with that child can leave a lifetime of good in the world. You know without a shadow of a doubt someone else needs you...that their success tomorrow is directly related to whether or not you are there. You know you matter. What a blessing!!

On a side note...my pastor referenced Habukkuk 2:3 on Sunday, "For the vision is yet for the appointed time; it hastens toward the goal and it will not fail though it tarries, wait for it; for it will certainly come, it will not delay." While I know it certainly isn't all about me, I can't help but hope this is a reminder from God reminding me to be patient, for all things come in His time.

Bible Study Sessions 3

Howdy folks! I’m later than I planned to be on writing this (and even later than that because last week was so busy!). I had hoped to blog within 1-2 days of each Bible Study, but aside from last week being crazy busy (more on that later), this week’s study offered a lot to ponder and has taken time to digest. And I’m not sure I’ve still completely absorbed it, but I’ve chewed long enough to share.

This week began Beth Moore’s portion of the study, and if you’ve never seen her speak, find a way. She is incredibly powerful and motivating. Maybe it’s just me, but everything she says just makes me feel called to do more. I was fortunate to attend a simulcast last July, and came away fired up to do something different in our church with the Women’s Ministry. I shared my desire with the right people, and am now serving on that committee and feel very good about the things we have planned for our church. But I digress…

Anyway, Priscilla Shirer covered the anointing, and Beth Moore covers the transformation. During the course of her presentation at our last meeting, Moore made several excellent and quotable points. In talking with other women attending, we have all found ourselves repeating them – either in our heads or out loud throughout the days following. One point was that baggage attracts baggage. Yours may come in Gucci and his in a paper sack, but both enter into a relationship with baggage (maybe my problem is that I don’t have enough baggage to attract guys in my age group who seem to bring enough grocery sacks with them to fill several landfills? I digress…). She also made a point about seeking deliverance from your next pit instead of delaying it.

Perhaps the most resonating statement she made was that we have to get over our devastation with God. When she said that, I believe most of us had light bulbs click with realization, several of us felt relief to have a name for the feeling, and most of us were grateful to know we were not the only ones who had felt that way. There was also a sense of guilt leaving the room as well. I admit that I have felt disappointed in God and devastated by His apparent plan for my life. Though I realize I made active choices that no doubt had affect on my direction, I also fully contend that I am where He wants me to be. Am I the only one who has a hard time reconciling His plan for my life with what I had always envisioned my life would be like?

Rest assured a more than healthy amount of guilt comes with having that hard time. I don’t believe though that God is surprised by our inability to make His plan work with all of our expectations, desires, wants, or whatever you want to call them. I know assuredly that I am thankful that more than a few of my prayers were answered no. I prayed fervently that my ex would be the man I needed him to be…and that didn’t happen. It really couldn’t have happened; not because I do not think God could change him…He was the only one who could; but because I didn’t have near enough Gucci (or grocery) bags lying around to bring equal baggage to the relationship.

I do not want to be bogged down in the lonely hearts club - or have a pity party of one almost 30 year old, but that is my devastation. And I'm really not sure how to get past it. Maybe that will come with session 4.

Bible Study: Session 2

What a blessing this study is. Obviously, I am blessed by spending time in the word and with God, but I am also blessed by the fellowship of the ladies in our study. More than ever I am convinced there is more to it than my private worship and church attendance. I learn so much from those around me.

Doing the homework for week one, I had a light bulb moment that I shared with our group Monday night. There were a series of three questions. The first question had us read the story of Jacob and Rebekah's deceit of Isaac, and describe all they ways they manipulated him. The second had us compare that story with Abner's death in 2 Samuel and why David had peace. The third question - the one that tied it together asked how someone might feel who had tried controlling everything that they shouldn't. I wrote "anxious, suspicious, worrisome, stressed" and a few other words.

It hit me then, that the areas of my life where I experience the most worry and anxiety are the ones I have my fist gripped tightest around. They are the very ones I give to God in pieces...or give and take back when things are not happening by my timeline. Once I feel the anxiety and fear set in, the rest of the situation typically spirals until I am at my wit's end. But once I pray through it and hand it to God, I immediately feel peace.

It is powerful, albeit difficult for someone so independent, to realize the comfort that comes when I do not try so hard to be in control.

Along the same longs, I have had several reminders in the last few days of how God equips us to do His calling. The first reminder came in our homework, which lead me to read notes from a Beth Moore simulcast (she referenced 2 Timothy 3:17), and then today I received a devotional that said God equips those He calls. None of us can do it alone. But with Him equipping me, I can do exactly what He wants me to.

As a side note, I thought this was a wonderful definition of FAITH - A CONVICTION THAT HE CAN AND A HOPE THAT HE WILL.

Be blessed <><