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Watch your back, Peyton Manning

August 7, 2012 by

Dear Peyton Manning,

I think you’re great. I mean…well, truthfully, had I not married into a family full of sports nuts, I probably wouldn’t know who you were. I’d likely have only a passing awareness of your name, but I would not be intimately aware of the details of your life, your big moves (Go Denver! Okay, I totally had to pause to go look that fact up and make sure I was right before hitting publish…) and your familial affinity for the game of football.

But my life involves a whole lot of Sports Center, so I do know these things. I know you’re considered one of the greatest Quarterbacks of all time (at least, I think you are. Actually, I don’t really know all that much at all…) Anyway, my point is this – you’re really good. I know you are. But you might want to watch out, because this kid?

He just could de-throne you.

What’s that?

Who am I?

Oh…I’m just this kid’s Mom.

Note to self - We need to invest in one of those giant tents because the Florida sun is intense.

Yes…I know that makes me partial and that my opinion is completely biased and I seem to have very little true knowledge of the ins and outs of your sport but…

What? Why do I think he’s out to take your spot as one of the greats?

Also need one of those water packs. Brilliant!

Oh, you know…only because he threw four perfectly spiraled passes for four touchdowns in his first football game ever after only three practices, one of which he did mere seconds before being sacked.

Watch your back, Peyton. There’s a new kid in town and he’s got quite the swagger.

Oh and by the way…he also has a little brother who happens to be a sports prodigy so you might want to tell Eli to watch out, too. Today it’s the Manning Brothers but give it twenty years…it just might become the Stuart Brothers.

In my totally and completely biased opinion…

PS – I used to think there was nothing cuter than a little boy in a baseball uniform. I was wrong. Little boys in football uniforms take the cake.

Do you have any budding little athletes in your house?

Filed Under: Family, Florida, Kids, Sloan, Sports, summer fun Tagged With: , , , ,

.41¢

August 6, 2012 by

I took the boys with me, a Mama and son date. Tia spent the weekend having her girly tank filled with her cousins. They did hair and played dolls and giggled and laughed. And so it was that I was alone with the boys for three days and errands were an unwanted necessity.

The kid’s school requires uniforms so I’ve been on a quest for the cheapest shirts possible however, the color shirt they’re required to wear is not very common, which lead us to the uniform shop in a rougher part of town to pick up several shirts specific to their school.

We rolled to a stop after exiting the highway and Sloan saw him first. He was standing back from the road a bit, his thin slice of carboard offering a two word plea.

HELP PLEASE.

 

Had I been alone, shamefully, I would have ignored him. I would have stared straight ahead so as not to make eye contact and avoid the awkward. I would have said no to the least of these.

But I wasn’t alone. I was in the car with a nine year old who is determined to change the world – a nine year old who just might do that someday if I don’t mess him up.

“Mom, give him some money! He needs help!” He said this as he rooted for loose change and reached for my purse. But I didn’t have any money. I never have cash on me. Cash means Starbucks to me so I rarely carry it to avoid the temptation.

“I don’t have money, babe,” I said, regret lacing my words.

“Yes you do,” he cried, holding up a handful of coins triumphantly. One quarter, one dime, one nickel and one penny. Every coin represented.

“Honey, that’s not really much money. It won’t help him. You can’t do anything with .41¢.”

“Well, he can save it, then, until he gets a little more,” Sloan replied and really, how could I say no? My child was asking me to do good. Like I said, here’s to hoping I don’t mess him up…

I rolled down the window and motioned the man near. He walked with a limp to the car window. “I’m sorry it’s not more,” I said, my face flushing a bit. Why was I embarrassed? Why do I still feel like I must do something big for it to hold any lasting impact? “It’s all we had and we wanted to help.”

The man took the four coins with dusty hands and his eyes filled with tears. “Ma’am,” he said as he separated the penny from the rest of the group and held it up in the sunlight. “If you had just given me this one penny, it would have been enough but you chose to give more. I can’t tell you what this means to me.”

I smiled and blinked back my own tears. The stoplight was soon to change, I knew this, so I turned quickly and pointed to my freckle-faced boy. “It was his big heart who wanted you to know that we see you and we love you and we will be praying for you.”

Sloan leaned forward so he could see out the window and the man looked at him deep. “You’re a good young man,” he said. “Listen to your Mama and stay in school, you hear me? And don’t ever let anyone tell you you’re not good enough, because you are.”

Sloan nodded and then spoke, his words filled with a grace beyond his years. “Thank you, sir,” he said. “I will be praying for you every day.”

The light turned green and we moved forward. The man stepped back from the road and as we made our left turn, I looked back to see his face buried in his hands, his shoulders heaving. In his clutched fist, he held tight to .41¢.

We pulled into the uniform store a few minutes later and Sloan looked at me with heavy eyes. “We should do more for him,” he said and I nodded. I felt it, too. “Like, can we buy him a house or something?” he asked. Just like his Mama, he thinks big.

I smiled and ruffled his thick hair. “We can’t buy him a house, but we could buy him a meal,” I said and he smiled. So that’s exactly what we did. After picking up shirts for the next school year, we swung through a local restaurant and ordered a meal and a bottle of water then rushed back around to the spot where we first met him.

He was gone.

Sloan’s face fell as he clutched the bag of fries and burgers. “Where did he go?” he asked, his face scanning left and right. “Oh I see him!” Landon screeched from the back seat, excited to be a part of this moment with his brother. Our friend sat under a bridge with another man. He was smoking and speaking animatedly.

“How are we going to get to him, Mom?” Sloan asked and just then the man stood up and started walking back toward our corner. We didn’t have long. I grabbed the food, jumped out of the car and waved at him, setting the food on the curb then rushing back to the car. He hurried over, his face registering shock.

“I was just telling my friend Peter about how much you blessed me and now this?” He looked genuinely surprised. The light turned green and I pulled forward. “God Bless you!” he called as we rounded the corner and he disappeared. A few minutes later, as we merged on the highway, Sloan spoke up again. “Will we see him again, Mom?” he asked.

“Probably not,” I said.

“Can I pray for him now?” Sloan asked and I nodded my head yes. And with eyes swimming, I drove us home while my nine year old demonstrated a faith that moves mountains. The faith of a child.

Did you know that .41¢ could change the world?

Yeah, I didn’t realize it either…

Filed Under: faith, Grace, Kids, Kids do the darndest things, Ministry, Sloan Tagged With: , , , ,

Ready, Break!

August 2, 2012 by

I like to call this Portrait of an iPad.

I am on technology overload this week and I’ve hit the burn out zone, which can only mean it’s time for a much needed break.

Sometimes the constant noise leaves me feeling emotional, unsure of myself and altogether irritable so I’m just going to take a few days off to collect my thoughts, get a little rest, clean that mystery stain on the couch and try to solve the issue of the ants in the bathroom.

WHERE ARE THEY COMING FROM?!?!

In the meantime, I’ve seen some really amazing posts online this week. I will leave you with the words of those who are wiser than I am and will hopefully come back next week a little more rested and a little less grouchy.

Shaun’s post on why bigger crowds are less compassionate rumbled through my head all week and gave me much pause for reflection.

He also launched the new and improved Compassion Bloggers site and it’s clap your hands awesome. You should check it out!

Becke’ strung together words in the most beautiful way yesterday nearly leaving me breathless. She is ridiculously talented.

Sophie made me laugh out loud (LOL? No…) with her exciting new heights of under-acheivement.

McKayla Maroney rocked her vault leaving me a little stumped as to how on Earth the judges could have given her any less than a perfect score. Perhaps they are robots, incapable of emotion? Her post vault reaction also made me wish I could bring her home with me and put her in my pocket just so I could pull her out and have her jump up and down and say “Yay,” every time I needed a little cheering up.

Angie Smith wrote about her table and managed to make me cry in the process.

The Olympic Swimming Team’s cover of Call Me Maybe makes me so very happy. It will make you happy, too. How cute is Missy Franklin?!

That’s it for me this week. I’m off to take the kids to the park, buy some school supplies, hopefully take a nap and spend a little time just being quiet today. You know, I remember a time when the internet wasn’t around, when there weren’t 52,000 TV stations to watch and when the only thing that tweeted were birds.

Because I’m that old.

Does anyone else ever feel like they’re on sensory overload? No? Just me?

Super…

Filed Under: Blogging, Compassion International, discipline, Life, Sports Tagged With: , , , , ,

To us, they really will always be kids…

July 31, 2012 by

It’s all Olympics all the time around here. I’m exhausted. If we could get a medal for dedication to watching and cheering on, I feel I deserve at least a bronze. I went to bed at ten last night after looking up the results online because I was just too tired to spend another night watching TV so that knocks me down a bit in the medal stand.

The Olympics are emotional. No matter who wins or loses, I find myself in tears almost every single time. Every race, every match, every event is the culmination of dreams come true for some and dashed dreams for others. We are watching lives unfold before our very eyes, and it is exhausting.

P & G’s Thank you, Mom series of commercials isn’t helping. This particular commercial turns me into a blubbery mess every single time.

The other one that messes with me is this one, because it’s true. No matter how old, or how big, or how great they become, to us Mama’s they’re frozen in time, the little ones who begged for nighttime hugs and kisses, one more drink, a few more snuggles and can I please sit on your lap, Mommy?

Their giggles are frozen in time, the freckles that dot their noses imprinted in our memories until the day we close our eyes for the final time. As much as I love to watch the athletes succeed, I love to watch their parents even more. With each twist and turn, each stroke made, each stride, the mothers and fathers who walked this road alongside them move. You can see the tension in their faces, the relief in their eyes when it’s all said and done.

Most of us parents won’t be sitting in those sidelines. Most of us won’t welcome home an Olympian or a Super Bowl Champ or a World Series MVP. Most of us will allow those dreams to foster in our kids knowing that it’s probably not really in their futures and we’ll be okay with it.

But we will all watch our children grow and learn and succeed and fail in different areas – maybe on a world stage, maybe in an office cubicle, maybe in a classroom or a mission field or a boardroom or as parents raising their own children. We will watch them grow and develop and become who they were meant to be.

And we will love them fiercely and deeply and proudly.

Some of us will be disappointed by the decisions our children make. We will sit back and watch them struggle and we will ache and cry and pray and long to see them crawl out of the pit that they have dug for themselves.

And we will love them fiercely and deeply and proudly.

As we drove home from Sloan’s football practice the other night, he shared with us some of his fears. He is not an aggressive child making football an odd choice for him. He’s built for the game and is talented enough, but his heart is so tender and competition is not really in his genetic make up.

But he wanted to play, so we signed him up.

“I’m afraid I’ll hurt someone,” he said. “And, I’m afraid I won’t do a good job and you will be disappointed.”

“Son, let me tell you something,” Lee said, turning the rearview mirror so he could look into the eyes of his first born. The one he loves fiercely and deeply and proudly. “You can make every single play, throw the ball perfectly and win the top championship in the world, and I will be so proud of you and I will love you,” he said and Sloan nodded.

“And you can miss every pass, fumble every ball, miss every tackle and trip over your own two feet the entire game, losing every game you play and I will be so proud of you and I will love you.” Sloan nodded again.

“There is nothing you can do on or off that football field that will change the fact that I am proud of you and I love you. Because you are my son and that’s all that matters to me.”

To us, they will always be kids. They will fail and they will succeed. They will hurt and mess up and get angry and they will still be our children.

I don’t need a gold medal or a championship ring or a World Series pennant to be a proud and emotional Mama.  

Are you watching the Olympics? Are you as tired as I am?

Filed Under: Family, Kids, Lee, Sports Tagged With: , , , ,

Softer, Younger Looking Skin? Yes, Please!

July 29, 2012 by

I don’t do a lot of reviews around here, but every once in awhile the product is either fun enough, or catches my eye enough to make me holler Yes! And then I share it with you.

This product is not a new one to me as I’ve been using Dove products since I was in high school. (Or since the “olden days” as my children like to say when referring to my youth. *eye roll*) But when the tag line of Dove’s new line of body wash is Visibly more beautiful skin from a body wash, well, I am all in.

Remember, I am the girl obsessed with all things skin related. If a product promises me younger looking skin, I buy it hook, line and sinker. And I like to think my obession is paying off. Just this week two different people told me I didn’t look old enough to have a nine year old. I shared this with my husband in an attempt to get him to quit trying to add up how much I’ve spent over the years on skin care goodies.

It’s best for everyone involved if we not focus on that aspect…

Me being dorky with my Dove Body Wash, which is very photogenic, I might add...

I’ve been using the new Dove® Visible Care Renewing Creme Body Wash for a week now and I love it. First and foremost, it smells delicious, both clean and pretty. But not so pretty that Lee couldn’t use it – cause my man likes to smell like a man.

Honestly, I can’t say that I’ve noticed a huge difference in my skin since I began using it, but I do love how I feel when I get out of the shower.

Yesterday we spent the day at the beach and I came home sandy and salty and dirty. The Dove® Visible Care Body Wash was especially reviving afterward and I could see it being extremely useful during those dry winter months when your skin threatens to grow scales.

Or at least mine does…

Here are a few of the benefits you will reap when using Dove® Visible Care Body Creme:

  • You will be using a revolutionary line of premium body wash.
  • It contains the highest concentration of Nutrium Moisture techology across the Dove portfolio.
  • It gives you visibly more beautiful skin in just one week.
  • It is available in three different variants – New Dove® VisibleCare Toning Crème Body Wash (helps to promote skin’s elasticity and strength), Renewing Body Wash( nourishes and replenishes skin), Softening Body Wash (softens skin and dry spots).

Now this blog post is not just another product pitch. Oh no. There is potential involved for your endurance in reading through my love of all things skin related.

First, visit Dove® VisibleCare® to get a coupon for $1 off so that you can try out their new line of skin renewing body wash for yourself!

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Disclaimer: This is a paid promotion on behalf of Blogher and Dove. I was provided a sample of the product to try out. All opinions expressed are my own.

Filed Under: Product Reviews Tagged With: , , ,

The Decision

July 26, 2012 by

I wrestled endlessly this Spring with our schooling decision. I made lists, I attended open houses, I prayed, I cried, I decided and waffled and changed my mind and stressed and worried and fretted and wished and hoped.

And I finally went to my husband with all of the information, laid it out in front of him and put the decision in his hands. I told him my first choice, a hybrid homeschool program in which the kids would attend three days a week and I would facilitate lessons the other two, but it had a cost involved that concerned us both.

I told him my willingness to homeschool again if he felt like we needed to and I gave him all the information on the public school. And I asked him to decide because I was paralyzed. I had analyzed and dissected every option and was well versed on each Pro and every Con and it left me completely inept to see what would be best.

So I gave it to Lee and waited for him to make the decision. After a few weeks of thought and prayer he pointed me to the public school and, while that had been my last choice, I felt a huge weight lifted off of my shoulders. A decision was made by my husband and I had no doubt that it was the right choice.

He wasn’t plagued by every little detail like I was. He simply knew what would be the best next step and I trust him so Tuesday I marched to the public school and enrolled Sloan and Tia for next year.

I feel peaceful, but I’m nervous. I know it’s right, but there’s the unknown that keeps me prayerful.

I loved homeschooling the kids. I really did. I enjoyed it far more than I thought I would. Something really special happened this past year when I had them home with me.

I fell in love with them.

Of course I always loved my children, but I didn’t always love being with them. I was happy to ship them away whenever the chance presented itself and I hoarded my alone time with no small amount of selfishness. While they were home this past year, though, I really enjoyed just being with them.

We laughed a lot.

We learned a lot.

We enjoyed one another more than we ever have before.

We had freedom to go where we wanted to do what we pleased and learn what was interesting to us. I loved that.

However…

I firmly believe that homeschooling is the best education a child can receive if the parent teaching them is doing it really well. While I was having fun with them, I still did not feel like I was giving them the best educational foundation simply because I don’t know how.

I don’t know how to teach Math or Science. I didn’t love trying to break down grammar and teaching a six year old to read is just short of being stabbed in the eye with a hot poker. It’s hard.

I really believe there are other people more qualified to teach my children core subjects at this stage in our lives, but I also don’t doubt for a second that I will homeschool again someday. I can really see myself enjoying it a little more when they’re older and are a little more independent in their studies and I have more resources for help in the subjects I am not qualified in.

In short, I loved everything about homeschooling but the schooling part. Which…well, it’s kind of a key component.

Now, to be fair to myself, I will say I did a good job teaching them this past year. When we started the year Sloan was reading at a first grade level, could barely spell and had very little exposure to Subtraction. By the end of the year he was reading at a fifth grade level, spelling at a fourth grade, writing beautiful poems and paragraphs and had a working knowledge of Multiplication.

It’s not that I can’t teach them. But I did live under a constant wave of stress all year long and there are areas where I know they would benefit from a teacher who understands how to break things down more than I did. I never doubted my ability to teach them well. But I did fully realize that if I were to homeschool again, I would need a little more help in some key areas.

So next year they will go to school, and Landon will be in preschool five mornings a week, which means for the first time in nine years I will be alone during the day time hours on a consistent basis. I’m not going to lie – that’s an attractive thought.

But it’s also scary. I’m going to miss them. So when they all start back to school, to celebrate my first day home alone, I have vowed to go to Busch Gardens and ride every single roller coaster in the park.

By. My. Self.

How do you make the education decision for your children?

Filed Under: Family, Homeschool, Kids, Life, School Tagged With: , , , ,

Why I Will Continue to Eat Mor Chikin

July 24, 2012 by

Chick-fil-a Rally Cow. Source Unknown

Unless you’ve been hiding under a rock or you are one of the few who don’t have a Facebook account (the horror!), then chances are good you’ve heard about the recent controversy surrounding the nation’s premiere seller of all things chicken.

Dan Cathy, son of Chick-fil-a founder Truett Cathy, made a statement last week that incited waves of both rage and support. It was a bold move and, as much as people may not like his decision to publicly state his beliefs, it was an inevitable move. For several months I’ve watched, slightly bemused, as people began posting the news on Facebook of the organizations financially supported by Chick-fil-a.

Given the intense scrutiny they were under for the organizations they chose to support, I figured it was only a matter of time before Chick-fil-a was forced to make some kind of statement.

For days now, I’ve watched with a bit of confusion as people left and right, from Facebook posts, to official statements by major companies and public rants by elected officials, have tossed out words such as “tolerance,” “diversity,” and “discrimination.”

“You can’t have a business in the city of Boston that discriminates against the population. We’re an open city, we’re a city that’s at the forefront of inclusion. That’s the Freedom Trail. That’s where it all started right here. And we’re not going to have a company, Chick-fil-A or whatever the hell the name is, on our Freedom Trail,” huffed Boston Mayor Thomas M. Menino.

“The Jim Henson Company has celebrated and embraced diversity and inclusiveness for over fifty years and we have notified Chick-Fil-A that we do not wish to partner with them on any future endeavors,” stated CEO Lisa Henson.

“I, along with many others, are boycotting chick-fil-a for your bigotry,” someone wrote on Chick-fil-a’s Facebook page.

And my personal favorite from their Facebook page: “Chick-fil-a is anti-gay!”

More than anything, I find the terminology being used here disturbing. What Dan Cathy said is anything but discriminatory. He stated a belief and an opinion, both of which he has every right to uphold. He did not say that anyone who believes different was not welcome to work at his chain or eat at his restaurants. Let’s not diminish the horror that is true discrimination.

Not allowing blacks to share the same bathrooms, sit on public buses, eat in public restaurants and so on…that was discrimination.

The holocaust was discrimination.

History itself is rife with examples of true discrimination.

Supporting an organization financially out of your own earnings is not discrimination. To try and compare the two is absurd. Chick-fil-a has not denied anyone any rights so the words discrimination and bigotry cannot be used in the truest sense of what they mean.

Is Chick-fil-a intolerant for their belief? Well, it seems that depends entirely on where you stand on the issue at hand. There has been little mention in the media of Office Depot’s $1 million pledge of support for Lady Gaga’s “Born This Way” foundation, a large supporter of same-sex marriage. No one is breaking down their financial statements on Facebook with battle cries of “Anti-Traditional Marriage!” Or “Office Depot discriminates against heterosexual marriage.”

Chick-fil-a has every right to support who they want to support and fight for what they believe in. Should Mr. Cathy have taken his stance public? That’s hard to say. Again, I’m not sure he had much of a choice, but perhaps it’s wise moving forward to not toe the line of political hot button topics.

On the other side of that token, we have every right as a population to decide what we believe and how strongly we believe it. If you disagree with Chick-fil-a and don’t want to eat there, you have that right. Personally, I cannot imagine a world without waffle fries and the perfect chicken sandwich.

But that’s just me.

We all have the right to support and back those things in which we strongly believe. Not eating at Chick-fil-a may be enough to prove a point, but it’s not going to change anyone’s mind about how they feel and what they believe and, in all honesty, it’s probably not going to hurt Chick-fil-a’s business in the long run.

We can all stand up for what we believe, to be sure, but we can’t sacrifice free speech in the process. Dan Cathy was firmly within his rights to express his beliefs, even if the repercussions were a few less sandwiches sold.

Mayor Menino is firmly outside of his rights to block Chick-fil-a from building in Boston simply because of what they believe and support. If that’s the stance he’s going to take, then chances are he’s going to have to boot a lot of businesses and churches out of his city as well. I wonder if he’s really ready to try and strong arm his way through that battle.

Chick-fil-a is not discriminating against a population of people. Everyone is welcome inside their stores. Everyone can order from the same menu, eat at the same tables, use the same bathrooms, drink the same glorious lemonade and benefit from the same clean environment and excellent service, regardless of race, gender, orientation or religious belief.

It’s not an easy topic to cover and believe me when I say I don’t write these things without a measure of trepidation. I don’t like cyber fights and it is not my intention to start one here. I believe in our rights as individuals to express what we believe freely and to fight for what we think is right and good. Your opinion may differ from mine, but I hope that together we can come to a place of respectful, mutual dialogue and not resort to petty name-calling.

What are your thoughts?

Please be nice. What if I throw in a happy emoticon for good measure? Would that help? 🙂

This is the part where I would compliment your hair or your shoes in an effort to let you know I think you’re super cool and don’t want to offend you or hurt your feelings and still want to be your friend and maybe we could go get a chicken sandwich later? Wait…

No.

How ’bout a Starbucks. They’re neutral, right?

Have a nice day!

Image credit

Filed Under: Grace, politics Tagged With: , , , , ,

Til Death

July 23, 2012 by

His bent frame curved low over the chair in which he sat. His head was bald, but a photograph in the corner told me he once sported quite a mop of dark hair. His face bore a perpetual smile and his hands trembled mildly as he passed me a black and white photograph of a young woman dressed all in white.

“We were married 60 years, 4 months and 22 days before she passed away,” he said and he offered a wide smile. “She was the prettiest girl I ever laid eyes on.”

I was in a Waco nursing home on an afternoon service project. On my left hand, the engagement ring sparkled and shined and I wore it with such pride that some days I wondered if my heart would burst. As I sat and spoke with Abe, I couldn’t take my eyes off of the picture of his wife, who had passed away only months earlier.

“Tell me about her,” I said. When he spoke of his wife, his face split in two and his eyes sparkled. Love has a way of preserving youth, doesn’t it? I could see the young man Abe had once been when his eyes danced in the memories.

“She had a lot of spunk,” I remember him saying. “Did you know we were married for 60 years, 4 months and 22 days before she died?” I nodded.

“That’s wonderful,” I told him. “I am getting married in just a few months.”

Leaning forward he looked deep in my eyes. “You enjoy it,” he said very seriously. I nodded and he leaned back, satisfied and content. He was, quite possilby, the most joyful man I have ever had the honor of speaking with. “Did you know,” he asked me again, “that we were married 60 years, 4 months and 22 days before my wife passed away?”

I wish I could remember all that Abe told me that day. He shared at length stories of his life with his beloved wife. Stories of the war, of raising children, of traveling and of growing old. And every other sentence was peppered with the fact that they had been married 60 years, 4 months and 22 days before she died.

When I walked out of that nursing home, I rushed to Lee’s house and told him all about Abe. “That’s what I want for us,” I said, lacing my fingers through his. “I want to be married for 60 years, 4 months and 22 days…plus some!” And that became our mantra. I even had it engraved inside his wedding band, which he lost a year ago. Some day I’ll replace it.

On our wedding day, Lee and I recited vows that we had written ourselves. In the vows we included the line, “I will never divorce you.”

Later, someone made the comment that she thought we were irresponsible for using those words. “How do you know what will happen in the future? How can you say you’ll never divorce someone?”

My first inclination was to react defensively. What do you think ‘Til death do us part’ means? Our vow was not meant to be a holier than thou approach to the institution of marriage. Rather, it was the acknowledgement that  marriage is hard and we were in for the fight.

Yesterday we marked twelve years since vowing to spend the next 60 years, 4 months, 22 days plus with one another. I can honestly say it’s been the best twelve years I could have ever imagined. Not the easiest, but the best. Our path hasn’t been smoother than anyone else’s. We’ve had to fight for one another, but it’s been more joy than fight and for that I’m so desperately grateful.

We have been through unemployment, the frustration and discouragement of wanting to be pregnant and not being able to get pregnant, the fear of nearly losing a child, two big moves, a house renovation (oy), the death of loved ones, loss of hair, thickening of waists and the list could go on and on. There have been times when I did not like him much and other times when I was not all that likeable. We are no different from any other couple on the planet.

But in the midst of it all there has been joy so deep that sometimes it takes my breath away. Lee makes me laugh harder than anyone else on this planet and there is no one on this Earth I would rather spend a day with than him. Marriage hasn’t been easy, to be sure.

But it hasn’t been that hard either.

I know how blessed we are. I have seen marriages fall apart and I know that sometimes divorce is the only option. I used to not think that. I used to believe that one should stick it out no matter what, but I know better now. I’ve seen people who were abused in their marriages, emotionally and physically. I’ve seen friends fight tooth and nail for their marriage only to realize that it would be healthier for everyone to just walk away. There is a lot of healing that can take place when someone leaves an unhealthy marriage. Sometimes walking away is necessary and I will never stand in judegement of a failed marriage.

I don’t proclaim immunity to difficulty in our marriage. We are falliable human beings, Lee and I, entirely susceptible to temptation and selfishness and capable of breaking the vows we uttered a dozen years ago. But deep in my heart, I know that there is no one better suited for me than the man I stood before as a fresh faced, naive twenty-two year old.

And with that in mind, I will continue the fight and will keep carving a path toward forever by his side. I will fail, he will fail, but together I believe the two of us are in for quite a journey. One thing I know without a doubt, we’re going to have a good time along the way.

We’ve got 48 years, 4 months and 22 days plus some to keep figuring this thing out.

Image by Avodah Images.com

Edited to add this link to my current favorite song. I love me some Ingrid Michaelson. Listen to it. Download it. Love it. Amen.

Filed Under: Family, Lee, Life, Marriage Tagged With: , ,

One more glance

July 19, 2012 by

We are on our last days of vacation. Tomorrow, the kids and I begin the two day drive home from Arkansas where we’ve enjoyed a week of swimming and playing with family. I’m tired and looking forward to sleeping in my own bed.

I’m still plugging away on the novel. It’s coming, very slowly but very surely. Some days the words flow freely. Others days it’s like plodding up Everest with a bag of rocks on my back. Some characters are sure and free and beautiful. Others are chunky and in need of a good editor.

But it is coming along.

This character, Maria, is coming into her own. Her story is heart wrenching and a couple of times I’ve had to stand up and walk away, the emotions have run so high. When I told Lee this he looked at me with narrowed eyes. “You know you’re the author, right?”

Yes. I do know that. But sometimes I’m not writing the story.

Kinda weird.

Here is one more piece of Maria’s story:

 

For three full days we rocked slowly along the tracks, all of us stuffed in tight and wrapped in heat and terror. After the first day, when dehydration and starvation began to set in, emotions ran high. We were a car full of teenage girls, all ripped from the ones we loved and forced into a situation of extreme stress. The tears fell freely and emotions ran hot. By the afternoon of our second day on the train, girls were screaming and wailing. Panic set in and several beat on the sides of the train until their fists were raw and bloody.

Others tried to shut out the wailing. Polina and I wrapped our arms around one another and slid to the floor, each a lifeline to the other. After awhile fatigue set in and most of the screaming faded into pitiful wails.

If the sounds of our enclosement didn’t set me over the edge, the smells threatened to. We all forfeited every bit of dignity we had as time went forward. Girls defecated publicly, and threw up repeatedly from stress and heartache. Even I had to finally give in to the calls of nature and with the deepest of sorrow in my eyes I released the pressure on the floor right where I sat.

Never have I felt such a sense of shame.

Polina did all she could to allow me some sense of dignity. She did not mention it and gently turned her eyes away from me when I could resist no more. And she did not complain when together we finally had to sit in the mess.

By the third day, everyone had made a sort of pile on the floor. In an unspoken agreement, we all allowed the smaller girls to lay on top of the larger ones, making a sort of long patchwork of grief and fatigue.

It was this day that I thought we would die. I envisioned the Nazi’s pulling open the door to find us all rotting in our own stench and somehow I took some comfort in this vision.

But it was not to be so.

Instead we finally pulled into a station and stopped. We had made many stops along the way, but this was the first time that the door was opened. The light that streamed into the cabin assaulted my eyes and left me blind. We were all so weak by this point that the Germans who began herding us out the door had to physically lift most of us and set us on our feet. Polina and I did not let go of one another’s hands. We clung tight as they set us upright and both of us, stiff-legged and squinting, followed the line of females into the unknown.

We were soiled, dirty and smelled of human feces and vomit. We did not look like young girls, but old women who had endured years of abuse. What a difference three days made.

There were four girls who did not make it. I watched as their lifeless bodies were pulled from the train car and tossed on a waiting truck with such indifference that I wondered if our captors were, indeed, even human. How can one witness death with no expression at all?

I don’t understand it.

©Kelli Stuart, 2012

Filed Under: Novel, writing Tagged With: ,

Home Base

July 17, 2012 by

GEEK ALERT GEEK ALERT GEEK ALERT

There is an episode of the show LOST that has been running through my head on a constant loop this past week, kind of like the constant loop that Rousseau’s message ran on for sixteen years.

Have I mentioned my obsession with the show LOST in the past?

I have?

I apologize.

So this episode was the fifth episode of Season Four ran some time during Season Four and was called The Constant and I can’t remember what it was titled…

Ahem.

If you aren’t LOST fans, bear with me for a second. I swear I have a point. If you ARE LOST fans, doesn’t the mere mention of the show make you want to go watch the entire series all over again?!

Image from Lostpedia.com

 

In this particular episode, a character named Desmond starts experiencing unexpected side effects from his prolonged exposure to the time traveling mysterious island.

Of course he does.

Desmond repeatedly loses consciousness and when he does, he flashes to an alternate reality in the past. The time flashes become severe and, naturally, his brain cannot withstand the strain of these two realities.

On one of his “trips” to the past, he runs into Daniel, who works as a scientist at Oxford and who also happens to be one of the characters who have mysteriously shown up on the island a few episodes earlier. Thus he is both in Desmond’s past and his present.

Confused yet? This is why you should watch the show!

Daniel of the past tells Desmond of the past that the time travels will continue to occur and will eventually, likely, kill him if he doesn’t find some sort of constant to keep him grounded in one place. “If you don’t have a constant to attach yourself to, you won’t be able to tell the difference between the past, the present and the future,” Daniel of the past  tells him.

Naturally, Desmond’s first thought goes to his love, Penny, and he takes steps to connect with her in the past and make her promise to listen for a phone call from him in the future. In the nick of time, future Desmond manages to call future Penny, just as his brain is beginning to hemorrage. Reaching out to his constant was like touching home base. It stabilized him and allowed him to remain stable in the present, move forward in the future, and hold dear to the past.

Do you see where I’m going with this?

No?

This isn’t perfectly clear?!

Sweet friends surprising Sloan for his birthday.

 

Our week last week in St. Louis was like touching home base. It was reaching out and grabbing hold of our constant. Before heading back I worried if I could emotionally handle the visit. What if it made me long to go back? What if I left feeling overwhelmed and scared of the future without so many of the people I love so dearly?

It was exactly the opposite. We were loved fiercely for a week. We were poured into, prayed over, fed and hugged by the people that know us deeply. And as we pulled out Saturday I felt peace. I felt like life stabilized a bit in the present and it gave me the courage to keep looking forward.

It was a reconciliation of our past, our present and our future. The friends we have in St. Louis are a part of our past, but this week showed me they are also a part of our present and our future as well. They are our constant and after that week I feel so much more confident in my ability to continue to walk boldly into our future.

I am constantly amazed at the God-given capacity we have to love. God has woven into our beings the inate ability to love many people and many places. A piece of our hearts will always be in St. Louis and it will always be home to us, probably moreso than Texas, which is where we started our marriage.

Our first house is there. Our children were born there. Our family originates in St. Louis. That won’t go away, even if we no longer live there.

But our life is now in Florida and there is a place for us to build new memories and there are friendships that are blossoming and growing and we have a future there that is new and exciting and promises to hold blessing. Our past and our future blend together in our present and as we prepare to head home, I have no other thought than this one:

We are desperately loved and more than adequatly blessed.

How is your summer going?

LOST Image credit

Filed Under: faith, Family, Florida, Life, Moving, the boob tube Tagged With: , , ,
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