So Bee It

     I haven't blogged since February!  Can you believe that?!!?  Shame on me.  Life has a way of getting away from you, doesn't it?  Typing that last sentence reminded me of a story my Aunt Pat tells about a swarm of bees chasing her down a hill and how her head got way out ahead of her feet, and she ended up rolling the rest of the way.  Life is like that.  I'm like that.  Instead of ordered steps, I let my "head" lead the way.  That's just how I roll. Bahahaha!  Get it?  Roll?  Seriously, though…

     In my time off school in the last several weeks, I've taken a long, brutally honest look at myself.  And between you and me, I'm pretty pathetic.  I just can't seem to get it all together.  The changes in my life in this year have been staggering, and, honestly, as dream-fulfilling as some of them have been, they have come at a great cost.  The cost will never stop breaking my heart.  It just never will.  I'm not sure I could even give it up now.  It's all I have left of so many years of my life.  When it seems like everyone and everything else has moved on and forgotten it, the hurt reminds me that I loved…and that God is love…and if that's the only way I can be like Him, then so be it.  It has brought me closer to Him, and in a way I can't explain, I can feel Him healing and working in spite of it.

     I wasn't expecting to say all of that, but there ya go.  Just so you know, I'm still here.  I would promise to blog more, but we both know that's just a lot of hooey.  I do love you, friends.  And if you're among the ones I seldom see face to face, let me encourage you to stop trying to outrun the stings.  You can never thank God for His healing if you never love so much it hurts.   

Standing By

A post I began last Friday, and just got around to finishing up:

   

     This morning, after hearing school was cancelled because of an ice storm, I sat down at my desk, in warm jammies, with a hot cup of coffee, excited to begin studying Ezekiel.  (sidebar:  I don't know if there's a limit on how many prepositional phrases are allowed in one sentence, but I'm pretty sure I just karate chopped that rule with that one.  Anyway…)  (Wait.  Another sidebar:  I was only half-excited.  The prophets scare me.  There.  I said it.  I struggle to grasp and hang on to everything in them.  With that being said…)

     I started in Ezekiel 1:1 (duh), and literally never made it past that verse.  It wasn't my normal start and stop, start and stop, start and stop confusion that left me there, though.  God used the three words, "among the captives", as a sort of balm to my hurt.  Amazing, how three words can take up so much time, have so much meaning, and make life seem a little more faceable.  Faceable…is that a word?  I don't think it is, but I think you're pickin' up what I'm puttin' down. 

     There are times in life when we feel captive.  Feeling captivated is wonderful, but feeling captive is another, entirely.  Can much come of captivity?  In Ezekiel's case, the heavens were opened and he saw visions of God he would have missed in Israel.  He and Daniel (& Jonah, in Nineveh) were the only prophets of the Old Testament who lived and prophesied anywhere but in Israel.  That seems significant to me.  You'll never convince me that God intends for us to live a life of captivity, but I am equally convinced that He can use it to our advantage…and more importantly, to the advantage of others.  Here, by this river in Babylon, Ezekiel sat down and saw visions of God.  I wonder if he would have missed the opportunity back in Israel.  I wonder if he would have slowed his service long enough to hear what God had to say.  I wonder how much like Ezekiel I have been. 

     There's no point in wasting time pretending that if God allows us to be "sifted", there's not something that needs sifted.  Israel's captivity was the reaping of sins they had sown, and Ezekiel was there to call them to repentance…and to repent, himself.  What a loving Savior to visit our "captivity" with "visions" of judgement…and then, of forgiveness and restoration!  He may seem to be in the shadows…but be sure that He is standing by.  Our harps may be hanged…but they're not hidden from our sight…or His.  The song is still the Lord's!

"But when the children of Israel cried unto the LORD, the LORD

raised them up a deliverer…" Judges 3:15

Brethren, Pray For Us

     I haven't the time for writing today.  School clothes need picked out, laundry needs put away, lesson plans need reviewed, and on and on and on.  As much as I would like to say some deep life lesson has placed me at the laptop this evening, I'm sitting here wondering how on earth some people could be so cruel - how others could be so clueless - and how the enemy knows just how to send them to kick you when you're down.  I simply had to stop and ask for your prayer.

      Let's be honest.  There are times when God, Who is "our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble" doesn't feel very present...and strength is the very last thing we seem to possess.  Refuge seems like a thing of the past in these times.  Everything feels exposed and vulnerable, and we're left feeling like outsiders looking in.  I hate those times.  I hate this time that I'm in.   

     People keep telling me I'll look back and realize some great victory came of it all.  As much as I appreciate their words of encouragement, I'm just not sure they're right.  Sometimes, there's only loss and pain.  It's just the world we live in.  If you're staring down your nose at this critically, you just haven't been where I am.  I won't hold that against you.  I hope you're never here, friend.  I really mean that. 

     Several weeks ago, Clark and I made the most difficult decision we have ever had to make.  Instead of feeling like a death, it has felt like a hundred deaths…none so grievous as the ministry we loved and cherished.  I have never been more proud of my husband for his integrity and spiritual leading in the matter. The grief of it all hasn't made us doubt God's command in the matter.   But, no matter how sure I am that it was the right decision, the grief simply seems unbearable right now.  I am thankful to know He is leading, but we're still searching the valley for green pastures and still waters.  I am asking you as friends to pray for us.  We have no axe to grind.  We just want to heal.  Our love for our fellow brothers and sisters in Christ has only grown in the absence, and now, more than ever, we pray they are blessed.

"I'm not driven down this path I trod. 
I follow Him by choice.

I don't need to see the way ahead. 
I only need to hear the Shepherd's voice."

"Brethren, pray for us."  I Thessalonians 5:25

Resolution

res·o·lu·tion - a resolve or determination:  the mental state or quality of being resolved or resolute; firmness of purpose.

    Another year over…  James could have penned no truer words than those describing life as a vapor.  It really is, isn’t it?  This day is always a bittersweet one for me.  I always stand amazed at God’s provision throughout the year, but I am always left wondering if I’ve used what He has provided for His purpose and glory.  I try to thank Him for the blessings He’ll bestow in the new year, but find myself on edge that this could be the year…we lose a loved one, the year we lose a job, the year someone we love turns from the truth, the year (you fill in the blank).  The blank can be terrifying.  And if you’re anything like me, you have probably found yourself piling it full of every horrible thing imaginable…even rummaging through old closets, digging up past failures and the disgrace they could bring and tossing them onto the blank with all the rest of the unthinkable.  I have never been good at filling in blanks.

     I used to be terrified of making New Year’s resolutions.  Honestly, it still makes me a little sick to my stomach.  Because, no matter how well-intended, mine have mostly been things that I was determined to see change…not necessarily things I was determined to do until the change came about.  Some criticize resolutions, but it is important to remember that the difference Daniel made stemmed from what he had “purposed in his heart.”(Daniel 1:8)   Historically, very little difference has been made where there was no one resolved to die trying.  “And Solomon determined to build an house for the name of the LORD.” (2 Chronicles 2:1)   There has also been little accomplished where people resolved to stay the same.  Even God’s Word is ineffective where people refuse to be changed by it. 

     I certainly am no scholar, but I have read enough of God’s Word in the last twenty years to know that it never implies passivity.  “Do unto others” implies action.  We are not commanded to just leave folks alone so they’ll leave us alone.  We are to go beyond that, and actually do unto them what we would have done unto us…whether the favor is returned or not.  (If any of my 7^th & 8^th graders are reading, they probably just rolled their eyes.   I throw this one at them all the time.)  We must be very careful to realize that merely wanting change, and even praying for it is, most often, simply not enough.  If that were the case, the Bible would have no other command, besides prayer. 

     I am afraid we have turned our faith into some sort of voodoo, mind-over-matter mysticism, where we think as long as we want the right things, we’re right.  Nothing could be farther from the truth! “Pure religion and undefiled before God and the Father is this, To visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction, and to keep himself unspotted from the world.” (James 1:27)  This is an imperative command, and nothing about it suggests inactivity.  Ephesians 6:13 “…and having done all, to stand.”  The standing here certainly doesn’t mean passivity.  Even if it did mean standing at rest, (and it doesn’t) it is only after we have “done all”.  And, oh my dear friends, there is so much to be done!

     It occurs to me when seeing the definition of resolution, that it really isn’t a certain action or task, but rather the driving force behind any accomplishment.  It seems to me that it is a thing to be greatly desired.  I know that my Father owns the cattle on a thousand hills, and He can (and so often does) provide miraculously, but may we never be guilty of taking His generosity for granted.  Perhaps, instead of constantly asking for a quick fix, we should be asking for the resolution to accomplish something to please Him.  And before you count your weaknesses, remember that “ye have not because ye ask not.” 

     So, here’s the list.  As best I can know my own heart, I have purposed to do all I can to glorify God in these areas.

1.       To be the wife and mother God has called me to be, above all…no matter what must become secondary to do so.

2.      To be more real, more transparent, and more honest…no matter how difficult.

3.      To stand.

4.      To serve.

5.      To speak.

6.      To love…no exceptions.

7.      To change.  My God who changes not is nevertheless a God of change. 

Go ahead.  Make the list.  This could be the year  (you fill in the blank).

 “Thou crownest the year with thy goodness;” Psalm 65:11

Lord, I Need You

     A few weeks back, at choir practice, we began to practice a song we sang years ago in a Christmas program.  As much as I love the song, I remembered standing with my choir during that year’s play, weeping uncontrollably.  I was mortified.  I just couldn’t stop.  The memory of sobbing publicly isn’t what bothered me in choir practice, though.  As soon as the first line began to play that evening, my heart ached to know that the situation that bothered me so much that night, nearly ten years ago, bothers me today.  If anything about it has changed, it is only that its grip seems stronger, its casualties many more, and the hope of it ever changing seems nearly dissolved.  As relieved as I felt that it was easier to choke back the tears over it (because when I lose it, it gets UGLY, y’all!), something about that left me uneasy.  I felt more uncomfortable that I was uncomfortable where I should feel most comfortable.  Does that make sense?

      I was cursed to be born with the desire to do my very best at everything I do…unless it’s something I hate to do.  And if it’s something I don’t do well, I hate it.  Does that make sense?  I’m a good laugher.  I like to laugh.  Laughing is my friend.  We’re buds, me and Laughing.  But I don’t cry well.  Therefore, I hate crying.  I ignore it and avoid it at all costs. So, if you see me crying, then something has defeated me.  I’ve lost the fight.  Crying and I went toe to toe, and I got whipped.  I know the distaste for appearing vulnerable is rooted in pride, so I hate that, too.  So, I try not to appear vulnerable to keep from appearing prideful.  Yes, I know.  More pride.  But then, to say I hate my pride would sound prideful.  Does that make sense?  Back to the song…

     As they practiced, and I wrestled, it occurred to me that having discarded hope of the situation changing was a far deeper root of pride than not wanting folks see me cry.  Job 8:13 comes to mind here.  “So are the paths of all that forget God; and the hypocrite's hope shall perish:” To know He is Almighty, yet entertain the thought that we can really know His final decision in a matter (besides the absolutes of Scripture, of course) is forgetting who He is, and to personally know Him, but believe He doesn’t consider every desire of my heart is hypocritical.  And, take it from someone who has learned the hard way…it only leaves you hopeless. 

     I didn’t cry that night…not there, anyway.  But, be sure that at home late in the night, God and I discussed the matter and I found myself where I usually find myself…needing more of Him.  And, as I tried to croak out the words to that song, He assured me He knew how much I needed Him and that He was in control of the situation.  Of course, He is.

     But, let the record show…I still hate crying.  I still hate what makes me cry and what makes me not want to cry, too.  Does that make sense?

                           “It is good that a man should both hope and quietly wait for  

the salvation of the LORD.” Lamentations 3:26

LORD, I NEED YOU

By Ron Hamilton

Sometimes when life seems gentle and blessings flood my way,
I turn my gaze away from You and soon forget to pray.
But when the sky grows darker and courage turns to fear,
My anxious voice cries upward with words you long to hear.

Lord, I need You when the sea of life is calm.
O Lord, I need You when the wind is blowing strong.
Whether trials come or cease, keep me always on my knees…
Lord, I need You. Lord, I need You.

Lord, help me to remember I'm weak but You are strong.
I cannot sing apart from You, for Lord You are my song.
Although I'm prone to wander and boast in all I do;
Lord keep my eyes turned upward so I depend on You.

Lord, I need You when the sea of life is calm.
O Lord, I need You when the wind is blowing strong.
Whether trials come or cease, keep me always on my knees…

Lord, I need You.  Lord, I need You.

Prayer for our President

 God of Heaven, prize of my heart,

     Thank you for America.  Help me to never forget that my life could be very different today.  You privileged me to be born here to wonderful parents who have only ever loved and taught me Your Word and mirrored your characteristics. 

     This morning, I will stop to vote on my way to school.  My girls will be with me to witness the great privilege of our democracy.  May they always remember and realize the importance of this day and have the same honor when they’re grown.  God, bless our president.  I know even the king’s heart is in Your hand and, like water, You can turn it wherever You would have it go.  May our president do justly, love mercy, and walk humbly.  May he value all life You give and love Israel and her God.  I pray he has the heart of David, the valor of his mighty men, the wisdom of Solomon, and the love of Your Son. 

We love you, Jesus.

Amen.

“This matter is by the decree of the watchers, and the demand by the word of the holy ones: to the intent that the living may know that the most High ruleth in the kingdom of men, and giveth it to whomsoever he will, and setteth up over it the basest of men.” Daniel 4:17

Satisfied Early

     Today, I’m catching up on housework and preparing for our next school week.  I have found now that I’m working every day, my time at home seems more precious.  The Saturday mornings in p.j.’s are invaluable, and coming downstairs to a clean kitchen sets the tone for my whole day.  Surprisingly, after a late evening at the school yesterday, the kitchen was clean this morning…and it has been a good day. 

     Earlier, I had a few minutes to sit out on the porch and watch my girls play on the trampoline.  Watching them did what it usually does…it drew me back to when I was a girl.  Their age difference is about the same as the years between my cousin Shannon and me, and since she was more like my sister, I found myself on memory lane, once again, next to her at the creek behind her house.  I remember so well the place where we used to build dams in the creek and string clotheslines from trees.  It was lovingly named “The Rock”.  We named it that.  We were creative that way.  It was named after a big…umm…rock that was there along the creek.  (Cut us some slack!  We were little.)  We worked to build the best dams, made brooms out of tree limbs to sweep our “house”, had church services, funerals, and the occasional baptism (against orders).  We rowed downstream to help neighbors who were sick.  All pretend, of course.  The Psalmist said, “we spend our years as a tale that is told”, and boy, do our years have some tales to tell! 

     When I came in to read a little, I found myself in Psalm 90 reading that very same passage.  The verse that seemed to strike a chord with me most was verse 14, “O satisfy us early with thy mercy; that we may rejoice and be glad all our days.”  Early in life, God showed Himself to me.  I certainly hope my life is one that rejoices in the mercy He has shown!  Then, just two verses down, he says, “Let thy work appear unto thy servants, and thy glory unto their children.”  Maybe I’m wrong, but it seems to me there is little glory being passed down to children these days.  Could it be that their parents haven’t been looking for opportunities to serve?  Could it be that in our rush from one activity to the next…one store to the next…one game to the next…we’ve stopped being servants?  I think Shannon and I spent our playtime “working” because it was all we had ever known.  We had seen our parents serve in and outside the church, giving their time and energy for all that really mattered…for people and for the God they loved.  Their example was mirrored in our pretense and the glory of their work has shown in our lives.  Please don’t misinterpret this as bragging.  It is only the grace of a loving heavenly Father, and I marvel nearly every day that He would lavish me with a past and present life so blessed. 

     A few days ago, I found myself pretty exhausted and wondering if it would all really pay off.  When I read my cousin Matthew’s facebook post, I was reminded that it isn’t about the payoff at all.  Mother Theresa said, “If we have no peace, it is because we have forgotten that we belong to each other.”  As generic and overused as it sounds, it is all about love.  My heart’s desire is to leave an example of service for my children, a willingness to work, but most of all a legacy of love.  And, this may be a little off subject, but I pray their memories are also filled with river rock, bare feet, and tree branch brooms.

 “And let the beauty of the Lord our God be upon us:  and establish thou the work of our hands upon us; yea, the work of our hands establish thou it.”~Psalm 90:17                

Time Will Tell

     There is hardly a day that passes without finding me anxious to check in with everyone here at The Daring Life.  And yet, my intentions, however sincere they may be, never seem to place me here at the keyboard often enough.  (Now would be a great time to promise to blog more often or set some sort of goal, but who are we kidding?  This is me, here.)  I’m no busier than anyone else.  Actually, my life is probably less hectic than most lives these days.  Usually, the problem is having five thousand things I want to say and not being able to narrow them down to the one or two I think people may be the slightest bit interested in reading about.  But enough of that.  I’m sitting here now, so here goes…

     Occasionally, you have a short time to sit alone in the quiet and realize and recount how many wonderful things have just happened.  That “short time” occurred for me this morning on my front porch.  Even though it’s a little stuffy out, it smells like Fall this morning, and something about watching the first red and yellow leaves slip from their branches and twirl to the ground makes me nostalgic and, frankly, a little weepy.  My girls are vegged out in front of the TV (another occurrence you’ll seldom see around our house) and Clark was called in to work, so I feel like I have a few minutes to myself.  I’m trying not to be giddy about that, so I don’t fight the guilt later.  ~sigh~ Scratch those last two sentences.  They have already been up here.  I put them in a bubble bath.  That buys me a good thirty minutes.  What better use of my time than to share with you a few of the blessings recently afforded me?      

     In the last month or so, I have begun serving in a ministry long dear to my heart.  Any ministry is dear to our hearts, but occasionally God allows us the privilege to find that one that seems to fit so well and we find ourselves wondering how we made it so long without its presence.  It seems almost human, like a dear friend who, even in your time away, never left your heart and has been waiting patiently for you to find your way back…a friend that accepts you for all the changes time has made in you, yet knows you’re still just you and that’s okay.  I am honored to be teaching at Seneca Trail Christian Academy this year.   

     The mornings are almost always foggy on the hill where the school is, and nearly every time I round the curve to pass Miss B’s house, I find myself squinting through the fog, like searching for a face in a crowd…waiting for that reassuring glance that lets me know my “friend” is still there. I imagine our school  like a Mary who lavishes every bit she has to bless the Lord she loves. She is there where I left her nearly a decade ago.  She has been hard at work and time has made its changes in her, too.  But, to me, her changes have left her even more beautiful than when I departed.  More beautiful for the lives she has touched and changed.  More beautiful for all she represents…and more importantly, for Whom she represents.  What made me love her is all still there and what time has changed makes me respect her heart and determination. 

     This past week, I was also privileged to see my grandparents renew their wedding vows in celebration of their fiftieth wedding anniversary.  Last night, as I looked over the photos I snapped that day, it was plain to see time is no more a respector of persons than of places.  For an instant, I was tempted to think of time as a cruel thing…a mocker, a stealer of youth, a ruthless changer of all we build and hold dear.  Then it occurred to me how much more beautiful someone is when the testimony of their life is apparent.  When the moment we see their face, we also see years of hard work, tears, or laughter, they are so much more beautiful than the inexperience of youth, and we wonder what secrets time is keeping.  Even seeing the physical effects of sin, whether it was their own personal sin or the effects passed on from a choice made by someone else, we are grateful for a loving and forgiving Savior.  We love Him because He first loved us.  And, just maybe we love Him even more for loving the ones we love.

     I hope, my friends, you are blessed to know as many beautiful people and places as I am blessed to know.  Perhaps, today you’ll find yourself with an old friend or even a stranger in a check-out line wondering what made them so beautiful.  Was it love?  Heartbreak?  Laughter?  Years of labor?  Maybe, like me, you’ll wonder if you will be fortunate enough to be so beautiful some day.  I wish I could say…but only time will tell.

“And he changeth the times and the seasons: he removeth kings, and setteth up kings: he giveth wisdom unto the wise, and knowledge to them that know understanding:  He revealeth the deep and secret things: he knoweth what is in the darkness, and the light dwelleth with him.”~Daniel 2:21-22

That's a Rap

     Upon finding a deer pleasantly munching on tomatoes inside our electric-fenced garden, today...I was moved...moved to grab three rocks, sneak through the yard, and madly hurl them, while screaming at the top of my lungs.  It was really something to see!  Almost instantly, I started composing a rap about it in my mind.  Enjoy.

They hear my name & they tremble in fear.

They know I’ll chase ‘em.  I’m the terror of deer.

Far & wide, they let each other know

That I don’t like ‘em.  I’m the foe of does.

Ya think you’re tough, buck?

Think raiding gardens is fun?

You better just tuck

Your white tail & run.

You’re in for quite the painful shock.

When, Laura Dare proceeds to pelt you with rocks.

Word.

     I typed that in bold print because it seemed more "hood". 

All Shook Up

     Have you ever came to the end of a day, week, or month and had to seriously wonder if all of that really just happened?  Every so often, we live surreal things.  We wake up and realize we just lived what we most often only read about in books or the news.  Some people look back and say things like, “It really wasn’t as dramatic as I imagined it would be.”  Let me just say that those people need friends and family like mine.  Drama is in no short supply around this chick.  Let me be clear.  I am not the least bit dramatic…only very descriptive.  (Certain friends would strongly disagree, but that’s okay.  I love them despite their misconceptions.) 

     Most folks who read my little blog live in the area that, like ours, was pelted by the 2012 Super Derecho.  Just for the record, I think “super” shouldn’t have been included in its description.  “Extremely Large Very Inconvenient Scary-as-all-get-out” or ELVIS, for short, seems much more appropriate.  Since I live in my own reality, I’ve decided that henceforth, the storm will be referred to as Elvis.  (Just a little heads-up to help you better understand the rest of the blog.)

     So, here goes.  That morning, my friend, Bek & I set out for a day at Sherwood Lake (really Lake Sherwood, except to the people who grew up there).  Sidebar:  ~Bek is my pal who keeps me grounded, but doesn’t let me dig my heels in too deep.  She seems to know what’s Always on My Mind.  Her It’s Now or Never attitude reminds me to seize the day, to not let Trouble drag you down and keep you there, because, it’s Funny How Time Slips Away.  She helps me Get Back to what makes me happy when my Suspicion runs rampant and my mind convinces me I’m a failure.  She’s my Sweet Brown In the Ghetto.  (Only she will get that last one.)  ~

     So, off we go with our children in tow…wait that reminds me…my toe.  Another sidebar:  ~Before we met to go laking, I had to swing by my other friend’s house so she could check out my toe.  Now, despite the fact that my toes possess a natural beauty that people “can’t help falling in love” with, she only wanted to see it because I had been “cryin’ all the time” with it.  It’s good to explain here that she’s not just my friend, but my doctor as well.  She was pretty sure it was gout and ordered some tests to confirm that.  She was right, by the way.  Of course, I wasn’t about to delay my fun in the sun with my Sweet Brown, so I decided to wait and get the tests done the next day.  She, of course, looked at me like I was crazy to put it off.  She was right, by the way.  (Please don’t tell her I said that twice!)~ 

     So, since Fools Rush In, we trek up to Sherwood, and, despite the quickly worsening toe pain, have a great time, watching our kids swim and picnicking under the shade trees.  We make it back to town and sit down on the porch to enjoy supper at a local pizzeria, when we’re asked to come inside since a storm is coming.  No biggie, right?  Ummm…wrong.  It was, most definitely, a biggie.  Long story short, we spent the next four hours making a normally twenty minute trip.  What we thought was going to be a little Kentucky Rain ended up being the Devil in Disguise, and the song running through my mind was If I Get Home on Christmas Day.  (Okay, not really.  But still.)  Even longer story short, we spent most of the next week together with no power or water, running (me hobbling) back and forth between water holes, trying to cool off or bathe. 

     One Night can change everything, can’t it?  It changed a lot for me.  I kept thinking of a skit Bro. Randall Topping did at church camp one year called “The Big Toe of Sin”.  Now, let me quell Suspicious Minds…I don’t believe I had gout to be punished, but I do believe it may have been a wake-up call, of sorts.  I’ve spent too much time lately at Heartbreak Hotel.  I would be lying to pretend I’m not still struggling, but just like the night Elvis danced through our neck of the woods, I’m Gonna Get Back Home Someway. 

     So, there you go.  Undoubtedly, my cheesiest blog yet.  Don’t Be Cruel.  I don’t get out much.  And, whatever you do…lay off my Blue Suede Shoes.

Take Me Back

     Today, I saw the most lovely picture of dogwood blooms.  Instantly, my heart ached to sit and talk with my beautiful grandparents.  For so many years, the biggest dogwood I’ve seen grew in their front yard.  So many times, I sat in its branches looking over at the nests built in the big birdhouse across the yard.  I can clearly see the big snowball bushes and cement planters around the porch and smell the scent of biscuits, gravy, fried apples, and coffee drifting from the kitchen.  It’s funny how things take you back. 

     I can hardly remember a day growing up without spending some, if not most, of my days with my grandparents.  No doubt, they tired of it.  I literally remember sitting against the wall outside the bathroom while my hard-working grandmother bathed and patiently answered my questions and listened to my stories through the door.  And there were so many walks along the railroad tracks with Papaw, kicking rocks and listening to stories of his childhood. I could never remember a specific one.  They all run together in my mind, all rolled into one big memory, one existence, one life that seems so long ago…but still, so much like yesterday that I can feel the hem of Mamaw’s robe and smell Papaw’s Old Spice aftershave and tobacco.  I would very much like to go back…but only if I could take my husband and girls with me.  Everyone should see and hear memories as sweet as the ones afforded me.  Memories my family before me worked and suffered to hand down, memories that cost so much.

     Now, before you picture two little old people holding hands in rockers, you need to realize my Mamaw also was a drag racer in her younger days (literally) and my Papaw drove a street bike.  Papaw would fight a buzz saw, and I have a sneaking suspicion Mamaw would have had his back.  They were no pansies.  They were daring.  They were hard-working, fight for who you love Americans who endured much pain and heartache all throughout their lives. But what I love most is that they were real, and that I was privileged to know them and be loved by them.        

     There is so much more to tell!  One day, I want to write a book about my heritage.  One day, I want to devote more time to writing.  It may never happen, I know, but something about writing frees me.  So, when given the chance, I’m going to write.  It will doubtless be sporadic and riddled with nonsense and mush.  So be it.  That just makes it that much more real, doesn’t it?  Isn’t life that way?  Up one day, down the next?  I’ve decided to not let the down keep me down, to not let the sadness or disappointments silence me, to be real for everyone to see.  Because, who am I kidding?  Everybody sees it anyway.  Now, they’ll just see it in writing.  And just maybe, someday I’ll have a grandson or granddaughter who reads of precious time spent with a real grandmother.  Or maybe, one day I’ll wake up ready to give in to the cruel parts and people of life again, and realize that life is much more that what I’m thinking.  Maybe seeing it in writing is all that will be able to remind me that my life was real.  Perhaps, when I go through another time of not feeling significant, that maybe I haven’t even been real, a scribbled page will take me back…and remind me that I have lived a daring life.