Things I Am Thinking About Tonight In The Quiet Of The Dark

Some are real. Some I just wish were......

A giant barn full of country music and multi generational laughter and dancing.

The hem of my daughter's green cotton-gauze dress waving in the wind with her wheat colored hair.

Staring into the eyes of an abused third world teenage girl and convincing her with nothing but eye contact that I care.

Light blue Adirondack chairs on a beach.

Saturday morning classic rock countdown on the radio in our kitchen while I poked my tongue through the space in my missing teeth.

Friendships formed from living in one place your whole life. I don't know that.

Laying on the trampoline watching puffy clouds make shapes in the sky.

Laying on the hood of a car watching puffy clouds make shapes in the sky. :)

Slow kissing. Whether or not it's related to the above.

A long front porch on a siding covered house.

Pink orchids.

Cherry sours.

My Grandpa's silly stories and a sweet and extremely meaningful conversation with him just days before his death.

A pendant I received from a second grade crush.

The morning I got saved - sixth pew back on the right side and a one-eyed preacher with the most welcoming smile I've ever seen.

Being hugged, honestly, for a really long time.

Rollerskating to "Xanadu" in a friend's backyard that backed up to the bay - with lots of other little girls too young to know about social politics or competition.

Seeing my daughter's heartbeat on a sonogram, after it wasn't.

Secrets I hold in my heart and ones that I've told someone else who has kept it faithfully and ones that some people give themselves too much credit for thinking they know, but I get the last laugh.

Watching my friends push their severely mentally handicapped daughter into my other friend's father's funeral. She always has a colorful bow in her hair and is so perfectly groomed despite being 31 years old and wearing a diaper. That to me is love.

People who sit with other people without any agenda other than to be available when the other is ready to talk.

My son getting back on his bike even after he made hamburger of his knee.

Sweet tea.

When I "just happen" to read exactly the right verse for whatever I'm dealing with that day.

How EVERYTHING I have ever experienced in my life seems to become extremely useful at a future time I could never have envisioned while it was happening.

Driving away from the stress toward a vacation.

The Great Town-wide High School Scavenger Hunt. I remember pushing my friend down the grocery aisle in a shopping cart at 5 a.m. and doing high kicks in the island of the highway.

A certain night in my apartment with my husband-to-be, and yes, we were fully clothed, and tenderly grieving his father's passing.

The zillion stars in the sky over our neighborhood, that I didn't think I wanted to move to.

My face when I could still recognize it as me. (This one made me cry, finally. It's been a long time coming.)

The flickering light of a swimming pool.

The time my kids all ran to the ice cream truck in only their underwear. I'm just going to sit on this one for a while before I continue typing.........

The little purple flowers my son handed me with his proud 2 year old smile.

My daughter's GORGEOUS heart.

My son being the only one to recognize that I needed to cry - and how to handle it.

The lights of the town over the ridge below our house.

Sitting in bean bags watching episodes of Mr. Rogers with my cousins, then running all over my Grandma's town unsupervised.

Hearing I'd not only made the team, but made officer as well.

Seeing 4 certain people I don't get to see right now because they are in Heaven.

Knowing how to worship properly without even trying for ever and ever.

Being included in old inside jokes.

Knowing that I've earned my womanhood.

Deep sleep in a soft warm bed.

The first bite of soft warm carrot cake.

Sitting in a boat in the middle of the lake at night.

The way my kids smiles are stuck on at the carnival.

Having a small, modest lake property to regularly retreat to.

Those old time cruising bicycles with really long fenders and a basket.

Screen porch doors and wood floors.

When American flags on the roof guttering and pickup sports and "please" and "thank you" and "yes, ma'am" and "no, sir" were all the norm.

Holding my children against my chest, then and now.

Wishing Jesus was tangible right now.

Wishing Heaven wasn't somewhere so far away.

Venting

I'll start with the most recent. My index finger is STINGING as I burnt it on popcorn JUST NOW as I began to type! Cr*%#p it hurts! And did I mention that the popcorn IS my dinner tonight?

If this post is going to sound too much like complaining, and it probably is, then you'll want to move on down your blog roll right now. First, let me preface by saying that I DO know that I am blessed SO FAR above anything I could ever deserve, and that I DO know that I could have it so much worse, and I REALLY am keeping everything in proper perspective outside of THAT moment (of which there have been several lately) that you can't keep perspective because you don't a half second to look beyond the small part of the picture that is an absolute emergency at that exact time. REALLY I am.

I will also say that in my experience, God NEVER goes without tempering the bad times with at least some small glimmers of blessing and I could recount several. But I have saved those for my prayer time. I'm using the blog to get all the JUNK out so God and I can have more enjoyable conversation. :D I am venting. Because we all understand that blowing off pressure a little at a time sometimes prevents a big explosion later on down the twisty curvy hair-pinned road.

And speaking of explosions, my husband narrowly missed one yesterday. Came upon a rural intersection on the way home from work where two men were RUNNING from their diesel-filled rig while motioning him to tear out of there as well! It was on fire. That was NOT what I needed to hear at the end of a stress FULL day! (The rig was totaled, but everyone did get away safely.)

We could not afford to travel this year, even locally overnight, but we have been awaiting Spring Break with more angst and yearning than EVER before! We NEEDED this break. Only guess what? The kids have been sick since I picked them up an hour before school even let out on Friday. That's right. Fevers, aching, congestion AND puking all the way around! Fun, fun stuff I must say! Of course my husband's hours have been ALL OVER THE PLACE so I've been mostly going it alone. He has always worked relatively varied hours just by definition of his vocation (construction), but I usually have about a day's notice of what the day will look like for him. Not this week. He's like a doctor on call, only out in the heat and the dirt and for way less pay and with clients who considerably more healthy enough to argue energetically. So I have hardly spoken to him all week. Since the kids are so sick, I have obviously not left my house in almost six days. And did I mention IT IS SPRING BREAK!

And the poor kids; they feel awful! They are SO SAD that they are laying in bed on the very break they have been CLAWING their way through school to get to! We also missed church again because they were sick - and last week we were gone to welcome home my brother-in-law from four months away. (A good thing.) But when we can't be there, we REALLY miss our classes and the encouragement we get!

Also, I'm LONELY! We aren't even eating together as a family since my husband's been gone so much and the kids can't hold anything down. And of course, no one can come to visit because of the germs. Besides, very many of my friends have their own issues they are dealing with. THREE of my friends lost their parents in the last three weeks and another has announced plans to divorce. I am so, so sad for them.

Yesterday and today, I've spent a total of about 15 hours tackling our garage mess (I'm a little less than halfway done) just to get outside while the kids have slept! I now feel like a Sumo wrestler sat on me! And after 15 hours, mere progress becomes a poor substitute for the finished product (although I am thrilled to be this far - I've been needing to do this for 2 years now!) Anyway, both days the neighbor kids have come over while I've been working and they are just not very respectful. I'm trying to be really nice now. Actually the way they speak would warrant corporal punishment for my children. The problem is, I don't even know their parents! THAT kind! Normally, I would TRY to have more patience with them, but I think we all have our limits sometimes and mine was at the point where they invited another friend of theirs THAT I DON'T EVEN KNOW to play in OUR YARD with OUR STUFF when they weren't even invited themselves! Then when I told them NO, the response from the 11 year old was "you are supposed to share things with guests." From an 11 year old! One who had just walked into my garage to get a Popsicle without asking! A Popsicle that was being frozen specifically for my son to maintain hydration! COME ON! Who elected me neighborhood babysitter?!

I was already grouchy because I have permanent scarring from whatever this is that invaded my face originally before it turned into the infamous staph infection of summer '08. The staph is gone, but the original problem persists and has worsened considerably. No one seems to be able to diagnose it. But everyone seems to agree what it is not. Acne. So here's my theory. I'm no doctor, and I don't know the medical practicality of this, but it's my gut feeling due to a number of factors I'm too lazy to recount just now. I wonder if it isn't the debris of a 19 year old car wreck working itself out. This would make a lot more sense if I explained why I came to this conclusion. And at least one trusy medical professional has said this is entirely plausible. But like I said, it would take too much time. What stinks, though, if I am right, is that nothing can be done about it. Of course, nothing is anyway. So I continue to look like the spotted freak show whereever I go. Which right now, of course, is NO WHERE!!!

And then just now, getting ready for bed, I realized that in my zeal to procure a garage we can park in before the 100 degree heat hits, I haven't kept up very well with the laundry. So I must wear the hubby's boxers to bed. With no blinds on 3 of our windows and I don't EVEN want to get started on the WHY behind that. But considering the garage door opener, some bad lighting (as in not working), the DVD player, and the car transmission have all broken lately as well, why am I surprised?

O.K

There.

I'm done.

And I AM DETERMINED tomorrow is going to be a better day, despite the forecast calling for cloudy skies after 5 PERFECT days of sunshine and breezes. SHEESH!

O.K.

No, really this time. I'm officially done.

Starting........NOW!

BORED

It's a feeling I often JOKE I'd like to be more familiar with. But in truth, I don't like it. It's not that I DON'T have anything to do. It's just that I'm not doing it! Spring Break couldn't start quick enough around here! In fact, we've been anticipating it more eagerly than ever before! My oldest left within an hour of school letting out to go on a weekend trip to Six Flags. My daughter had a sleepover with her girlfriend and together they made crafts and baked cookies and jumped on the trampoline and stayed up until 3 o'clock this morning!!! I only made it to 1:30! My youngest got tired of having no one to play with and decided it was better to be a good sport with the girls than have nothing to do at all. He let them "do his hair" and dress him up for their own personal fashion show entertainment. I have to tell you, this is a BOY'S BOY - ALL THE WAY! So you know he was BORED!

We woke up late today to dark and dreary skies and a child with the flu! But now it's a GORGEOUS evening, the clouds have broken, my husband is out building a pen that our dogs CAN NOT constantly escape, and I am stuck here.

I saw "Horton Hears A Who" earlier for the first time ever and it was fantastic! But another movie sounds boring. No one feels well enough to play a game. I'm too tired to read. I'm too energetic to sit around inside. I can't vacuum because the patient is sleeping. And, not that this is in any way remotely related to my mood, but I'm craving an orange and don't have one. I'm agitated without being unhappy. Ever feel like this? So what do you do when you can't figure out WHAT you want to do?

(SIGH.)

The Last Car

It's strange, but whenever I cry slow tears, they always fall from the left eye. I tried to wipe them away inconspicuously as I looked up toward the front at Staci. She looked particularly beautiful, stunning actually, like she had gussied up to embark on an anniversary cruise, not watch a preacher speak comforting words over a casket. The sanctuary where we were gathered seemed like all there was to the world last Saturday. Birds could be heard chirping outside between carefully chosen ballads as the soft glow of Spring sunlight flooded the room through amber windows.

Even from my pew near the back of the opposite side, I could read her thoughts. She is my friend and I know her well. It pained me so deeply to know that the one person she longed to have tell her everything would be all right was her daddy, and he was not there, despite the longing in her eyes that yearned for him to return just long enough to help get her through the next hour. I've known Staci now since our boys met as Cub scouts in Kindergarten, seven milestone-packed years ago. In that time I have heard countless stories about Jim Gazaway, and every single one of them were told with a reminiscent smile.

Just 5 1/2 weeks ago, I finally met him for the first time. Jim and I had both come to see Staci's new home. She and her husband had just moved back to their rural childhood town where her parents no longer live. Our connection was instant and comfortable, just as it was when I met Staci herself. There is something so likable and easy about every single one of her family and they've always considered me just one of them. I felt almost like a school girl receiving needed praise that day when he shook my hand and asked Staci how she managed to have friends just as pretty as she is. I admired how he lavished her with such loving compliments, even though his pride in her was so obvious without them.

A week and half later, Staci called me crying. They had taken "Daddy" to the hospital the night before for a headache that wouldn't stop and they had come home with a stage 4 cancer diagnoses. But he had not come home with them....and he never would. Four weeks later, just over a month after I met him, he died.

Now I sat alone in the last of a train of cars about to embark on a 45 minute drive toward the setting sun. It seemed so symbolic, ironic - and perfect. I turned on the radio as the flashing lights of sirens fell in behind me and I'll be darned if it wasn't the same sweet country song that had just concluded the service! It spoke of a daddy encouraging his cowgirl to keep on riding when she falls. I simultaneously smiled and cried.

I have never been the very last car in a funeral procession before. But something about the perspective it afforded me and the slow songs on the radio made my deepest ponderings run wild. Even though this day was not about me, there was something so personal and comforting about that officer behind me. He knew who to watch for. He recognized me. He knew I belonged with this group while those behind me didn't. With a small, reassuring smile of protection, he so diligently waited for me to catch up at each intersection, signaling him to then race back to the front where my dear friend followed her daddy in the last car that he would ever ride in. It was as if he was checking on us both. Each time I reached him again, he would swerve behind me for just a moment to signal to the traffic stopped in reverence that I was the Last Car. After me, they were free to continue.

As we passed through four towns of rolling hills, blooming dogwoods, and greening grass against the bluest skies, not a single driver failed to pause their busy agenda in honor of this ordinary man. Long lines of vehicles were stopped in acknowledgement that this man with no fame or fortune must have meant something to this world. A couple dozen soccer fans even removed their caps and saluted our cavalcade from behind a chain link fence. It was so profoundly moving. So many that day stopped their lives just long enough to communicate, "We're sorry. May you find comfort in remembering he was special." And then life went on. We passed and they went on about their day, just as Staci will soon be learning to do.

As we approached the cemetary and the hearse pulled in, the officer nodded at me to acknowlege he was leaving. I looked for a open patch of grass to park while another of Staci's friends carried Staci's baby daughter toward the grave on her hip. We all gathered and just a few more words were said under a green tent on a fiercely windy day. A prayer was offered, the dismissal was given, and we lingered just a moment as if to mentally map this 18 square feet of dirt on the Earth. I turned to leave and Staci's brother thanked me for being there for her. "You're one of her best friends" he said as he hugged me. "This sucks!" he said angrily over my shoulder. "I know," I said. "I can't completely UNDERSTAND, but I know." He invited me back to the house for the meal and I told him I had plans with my family. Then he chuckled warmly and wiped his eyes and said something that made me smile at Providence. "Well, alright. But if you get hungry later, come on back out. You're more than welcome. We'll be there. Well, maybe not Staci. You know her. She'll probably be out here a while. I'm sure she'll be the last car to leave." Of all the ways he could have put it.