A Mother's Love

I never knew true love, exhaustion, excitement, heartbreak, joy, confusion, sadness, or gratitude on a monumental scale until I became a mother.  I don't know why it is, but even when your children defy your authority, ignore your request, smother you with love, obey your rules, or throw you under the bus, you still love them and would walk through a hail of bullets for them, even when they think you won't.  Mike had a rough night last night and it was apparent I wasn't going to sleep anytime soon, so I finally got up at 3:30 to make a cup of cocoa.  I've been working my way through four seasons of Downton Abbey online and sat down to finish the episode I'd stopped when I went to bed.  I love Cora, the mother of Mary, Edith, and Sybil.  She reminds me of myself when I've watched my girls growing and learning, accomplishing life goals and becoming young ladies in their own right. 


So I sat in the dark in the kitchen, at the table, all the lights in the house out, drinking my hot cocoa, watching the episode where Sybil gives birth.  Sometimes in shows or movies, you can gather clues throughout the story or the episode that clue you in on something coming around the bend.  I was not prepared for Sybil to die after giving birth, but she did die, with her entire family in the room witnessing it.  Cora's fear and grief were so PALPABLE.  Clutching Sybil's hand and crying  desperately for her baby.  So raw and deep and aching and I absolutely sobbed.  Not because I was caught up in the story, but I was seeing a "mother" facing the unspeakable horror:  Losing a child.  It didn't matter that I was watching an actress portray the emotion.  It made me face that in my own mind.   I pray that nightmare never comes to visit at my door, but we mothers play that over in our minds.  What would we do?  Would we collapse, or stoically set our jaw and soldier on despite the grief?  I have had friends who lost a child and my thought was, "There but for the grace of God go I."


Back in the early 90's I read Elizabeth Glaser's book about contracting HIV through a tainted blood transfusion when giving birth to her daughter, Ariel, who died very young from AIDS, and then Elizabeth followed several years later.  I was no where NEAR as strong as my walk with the Lord as I am now, and the book terrified me.   Katherine was two or three years old at the time and I was absolutely delighting in my darling little girl, so petite and beautiful and funny.  The thought of losing her then was paralyzing, but I have learned so much about faith in God and knowing to trust Him with my girls.  When I was given a diagnosis of cancer four years ago, my first thought was, "What about my girls?"  The Lord spoke to my heart and showed me, "I created them, I knew about them before you did, and I placed them in your womb.  I love them so much more than you ever can because My love is that of having created them.  Do not fear for them if you come Home to Me because I am there to walk them through life when you can't."  Opening up my hands and letting the reigns go to Him was freeing and peaceful, yet seeing Cora in her raw grief reminded me of how deep and consuming a mother's heart really is.


I think about the rough and rocky roads I've traveled with Katherine, there's a lot of pain there, on both sides, and a lot of laughter and joy.  No one can break your heart like a child, and no one can mend a broken heart like a child.  I'm watching her work her way through life, growing as a wife, leaving the Navy behind, embarking on whatever future she goes after.  For an admitted control freak, I have made my mistakes when I tried to step in and go, "You did what?  You dyed your hair pink and you're getting out of the Navy and going to be looking for a job WITH PINK HAIR and a nose stud??"  I have had to learn to walk that fine line between wanting to offer advice (let's face it, not offering advice but trying to impose MY blueprints for her life on her) and standing back with folded hands and quiet lips and let her make the mistakes you KNOW are coming, yet you promise yourself to stifle those words that may come back to bit you on the butt:  "I told you so."  This period of my life with her is like being the Mars rover:  A lot of people watching this strange little vehicle bouncing along over rocks and sand and seeing things that make you go, "Wow," and then victory!  There's an unexpected photo of some amazing area on the planet and you surprised everyone, most of all yourself.  I have learned to put all my fears and worries and hopes in my cupped hands, and then raise those hands to Him with the words, "Here you go, Father.  She's yours and I love you and I love her and I only ask that you make sure she sees how much I truly do love her and I'm not her enemy.  God, just keep us safe.  Please show her that unconditional love means she must do NOTHING in order for me to love her, but unconditional love does NOT mean unconditional acceptance of everything she does or every decision she makes."


If Cora were a real woman, and I could actually speak to her, my words would be this:  "It's going to be alright.  Take my hand and we will cry together, but everything will turn out alright, and maybe I'll come back with another cup of cocoa tonight to watch as you walk through this fire and come out the other side, still able to breathe, function, and still be a mother."

Downton Abbey

In one week I've worked my way through nearly two seasons of Downton Abbey and I have the following observations:

1. I do not believe there is ANY country in the world whose people have the most amazing talent and ability to completely ignore the elephant standing in the room. They can be so blissfully ignorant by their own choosing. The word obtuse was created for the British, I do believe.

2. God help their teeth.

3. PRUDES. The act of courtship is comical. "I'll walk the foggy bottoms with you and we shall stand 18 inches apart and you must laugh at my weak jokes and I'll hide my bad teeth and flirt with you and you can cluck your little giggle and cover your face shyly and laugh at my impossibly bad jokes, and after we've known each other for three weeks and our political views are examined and we can both agree on everything, I think we need to be engaged and I'd very much like to have a drink with your father in the study and discuss this transaction with him. Pip pip. Hmmmm, yes..."

4. The Brits can have entire conversations WITHOUT moving their lips an iota.

5. The word "ghastly" is way overused. As is "jolly". It's just, well, jolly ghastly, the overuse.

6. Someone please, PLEASE send some dentists over there.

7. A bottle of brandy and an old British woman is funnier than anything we can come up with.

8. These people must consume enormous quantitioes of starch because they are so U.P.T.I.G.H.T. And obtuse. I love that word. I want to believe that Lord Grantham is one to find an empty hall and cut loose with a silent but violent fart and then race to the nearest empty room and stiffle his laughter as someone walks through the cloud. You just don't see them doing the "pull my finger".

9. Where else other than the English countryside will you find a group of people get apopleptic over riding a bunch of horses side saddle to chase a bunch of hyperactive beagles, barking and baying, then spending the evening toasting the day.

10. Now I know why we left England to come over here. Bless their hearts.

Brother, can you spare a....burger?

We rarely visit the drive thru anymore but today as we headed out to errands Mike
wanted a burger. A burger it is. After a few mind changes, we pulled away and ended up with three one-dollar cheeseburgers that we thought we'd told the girl to take off the order. "I thought you told her to remove them?" I asked him as I looked into the bag. He shrugged and I set that bag aside. An bit later we were wrapping up our run and waiting at the stoplight was a man on the side of the road with a sign. "Laborer--I need work to eat."

We went through the intersection and Mike turned to head back. "Just hang with me, God told me to do something." We headed back and I was dispatched into Jack in the Box to get a large drink. We headed back out to the intersection, stopped and I rolled down the window as Mike motioned the guy over to the truck.

"I don't have a job for you but I can feed you, brother. Will this be OK?" He gave me the bag of extra burgers and together with the soft drink we handed it all to the man.

Some people you can look at and see that they haven't spent a night outside in their life yet they stand on the side of the road, grunged up to look pitiful, hopeless, and destitute. As a rule we don't hand out money to panhandlers, but we have been led several times to share extra food with people. As the guy came close to the truck, it was easy to tell that he had, indeed, walked a very rough road and he gratefully took the bag and the drink

"Brother, thank you. This means the world. It will definitely help." He headed over to an area away from the corner and began unwrapping one of the burgers.

When I realized that the three extra burgers were not a mistake, but saw God's hand in their appearance in our bag, I grinned. They'd been paid for, but what was a mystery to US was simply how He does His business.

As he's struggled with the illness that nearly killed him last year, there's always an element of "Why? Why this cross to carry, Lord?" Admittedly Mike asked God to use him for the Kingdom, and truthfully he would have willingly chosen ANYTHING other then necrotizing fasciitis, but it is what it is and this is where God has chosen to use him. Before his knee injuries and the bout with nec/fac, he would ask me, "How is it that God talks to you and not to me?"

"Well, it's not like he literally speaks to me. More of a leading, or a "knowledge" of something He wants me to do."

"I ask Him all the time to speak to my heart and I hear nothing."

"Be patient. When He's ready to reach you, you will know."

Over the past year or so, as he's been down more, not so distracted by the busyness of the world, he is discerning more and more God speaking to his spirit, to his heart. I am thankful that he heeds the prompting of the Holy Spirit and grateful that Ali got to see her father in his obedience. We had a good discussion with her about why she is never to approach anyone on her own, but she saw her father reaching out to share a meal and the love of God with a stranger and I couldn't be more proud of him.

I'm a Barbie girl, in a Barbie world...

Ali and Barbie (the doll) have finally clicked and in our living room is a three story doll house, about 20 different dolls from over the years, two cars, and a three-drawer Rubbermaid unit to keep the clothes and accessories in.  This doll has done EVERYTHING in the world.  Even down to Sea World Barbie, who trains dolphins, Pediatrician Barbie, complete with baby scale and baby, and Fashionista Barbie.   However, little has been written about the following Barbies over the years that were introduced and failed miserably.  They are:

Proctologist Barbie:  Failure.  Have you ever seen Ken naked?

Inner-city Welfare Barbie:  Missing some teeth, dyed and ratted hair, bra strap hanging down on her arm, beer can for her hand, the doll comes with a personalized welfare check and five children, each noticeably different from the other; each has a different baby daddy.

Ashram Barbie:  Press a button on her back and she says, “Namaste!”   Bendable in multiple yoga positions, comes with a hemp skirt and tie-dye shirt, hair braided and eye iris’ permanently dilated from too much pot.

Amway Ken:  Attired in jeans and a plaid button down shirt, accompanying bottle of laundry detergent.  Press the button on his back and he cries out:  “It’s not a pyramid scheme!”

Tupperware Barbie:  Suburban outfit of capris and a top, doll comes with a small variety of Tupperware for a direct sales home show.  Lids actually burp.  

NASCAR Barbie:  Bears a strong resemblance to Danica Patrick, complete with permanent scowl and finger outstretched to point the blame on everyone around her.

Presidential Ken doll:  Nattily dressed in a blue double-breasted suit, glasses, right hand fingers clenched and index finger pointing.  Press a button on his back and he utters the following phrases:  “You didn’t build that!”  “Pahkeystahn!” and “Damn flies!”

First Lady Barbie:  Mattel designed her face to look like Dana Carvey’s Church Lady.  Press a button on her back and she admonishes with the following phrases:  “Put those fries down!” “ Eat your peas.“  “I do NOT have a camel toe!”  and “For the first time in my life I’m proud to be a product of Mattel!”  

AARP Barbie:  Comes with a garden hand shovel and fake potted plant, a bottle of Metamucil, and a bottle of hormone replacement pills. 

AARP Ken:   Comes with a folded copy of The Wall Street Journal, reader specs, and a bottle of Viagra.

Menopause Barbie:  Has a permanent grimace on her face, loosely buttoned blouse, wears glasses.  Press a button on her back and the glasses fog up.  

Occupy Protestor Barbie:  Complete with Birkenstocks, camouflage pants, wife beater tank top, braids, backpack, protest sign, megaphone.  Bend her legs and press a button on her back and she craps on Ken’s pink convertible.

Acorn Community Organizer Barbie:   Dressed in sensible flats, a mid-calf cotton brown skirt and plaid blouse, chin-length pageboy hair style.  Press the button on her back and doll says, “Are you registered to vote Democrat?” and “I don’t care if you already voted.  Do it again!”  and “I have six different addresses you can use to register to vote Democrat.” 

Chris Kyle, Rest in Peace

I am watching with Mike the memorial service for Chris Kyle at Cowboys Stadium. As I watch, I see the clear delineation of lines that are being drawn in this country.

On one side there is an interloper in the White House that couldn't be bothered to worry about an ambassador that was under fire, after ignoring request after request for more protection, he got his five o'clock update and then disappeared somewhere in the White House with the woman that publicly refuses to place her hand over her heart to honor the flag that flies outside the very house she lives in.

On the other side, you have the memory and legacy of a young man that grew up humble, fought hard and valiantly, and died humble. Humility came from every pore on his body. Arrogance leaks from every poor on the body of the other one.
One took an oath to protect and defend the country, the people, and the Constitution of the United States of America. The other took the same oath, and laughs it off, calling that same Constitution a document of limited rights for HIM.

One has a following of sycophants and people that want everything for free. They look at the government as one giant breast from whom everything they need flows. The other represents people who have worked for everything they've been given, are the first to respond when a friend needs a hand up, not a handout. He represents the Americans that fly their flag proudly, shake the hands of soldiers in thanks for their service, small town parades, old veterans from former wars that stand on the sides of the streets with tears running down their face, while the other stands with a wife that mutters, "All this for a damned flag?", refuses to put her hand over her heart, and has the balls to say, "For the first time in my life, I'm proud of my country." That man being laid to rest fought overseas on foreign lands so she could say that phrase and not face imprisonment.

One worships the god of HIMSELF, accepts praise offered to him on the alter of ME.

The other was raised with biblical principles. He workshipped the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. Jesus was his Savior and it's Jesus whose hand he holds now, with the other hand of Jesus comforting his family.

We no longer have the lower, middle, and upper class. That's been erased and replaced with THEM and US. THEM is the contingent that hate what America represents, hate freedom, hate individual accomplishment and excellence. US is the United States, who proudly stand for that individual accomplishment and excellence. If the Lord continues to tarry, that line, that chasm, will grow wider and wider.

And our house is PROUD to stand with God, with Jesus, loving and supporting our men and women in uniform, the US.

Message from Mike

Hello to all of you and in the name of Jesus, I wish you all peace, even as insane as this world is.  As most of you know, this blog is Lori's doing.  She's so much better at the electronic world and typing and if it were left to me, my cell phone that only takes and sends calls and text messages, I wouldn't even have that.  It is through her that I communicate with everyone, for the most part.

The Lord has put on my heart the following things that I'm going to say to you here.  I don't know for sure how many of you are that are out there, but I am so grateful and feel such honor and humility for all the prayers and spiritual support I've received that I feel the need to share this with you also.  It seems that I have become just slightly left of humble with regard to all that I have been through with my leg.  It was brought to my attention through the Holy Spirit that I have gotten spiritually lazy and have not exactly lived up to what I asked of Him to do through me, so I need to apologize to all of you that have taken so much time to pray and keep me in your prayers.  Understand, I haven't been doing bad things with my time, I have sort of fallen into a rut of predictability.

Every other day go in to have the dressings changed, listen to the nurses that, don't get me wrong--I have great admiration and respect for--tell me what a great job I'm doing.  For the longest time, I would deflect any praise from me and lay it all at the feet of my Savior, Jesus Christ.  I hadn't been spending as much time in the Word of God as I should have, and I quit deflecting the praise for my progress.  It wasn't that I meant to, and nor has it ever entered my mind to usurp the glory and the praiseworthiness of my Savior for getting me this far.  I just out-and-out got lazy.  I have also suffered with a restlessness, I think even a little prideful, attitude.  Things like, "I have repairs that need to be made to my truck," which is our only source of transportation right now.  I have a fall and winter's worth of neglect to our property that I need to fix.  So instead of keeping my eyes on Jesus and resting in the security of an all-powerful and all-knowing Savior, I was trying again to do the heavy lifting myself and I also found that I lost the fellowship that I'd had before.  The reason why I'm apologizing to all of you is that I feel like I have insulted and wasted all of your precious prayers that you have given on my behalf and for me, with my years of military and law enforcement, comes my sense of honor and duty and I feel that by not living up to the things I've said earlier, about how Jesus has been the one to spare my life and my leg.  I found myself giving in to frustration and trying to move my way on my own understanding and my own strength.  For that, I am truly sorry to both my Lord and Savior, and to you folks, who I hardly know personally many of you.  I know Adrian Bateman, my Ontario connection, and maybe a few others, and you know who you are.  I am still humbled and most grateful for the prayers and support from all of you, and I would like to reiterate the fact that time is running short on this Age of Grace that we find ourselves in, and I intend to renew my drive to serve God, which is what got this whole thing started in the first place.  I wanted Him to use me in a way to testify and bring more people into the Kingdom.  So, if there are any of you out there who are either riding the fence or aren't saved, or maybe you have lost fellowship, too, please go back and find Him.  For those of you that aren't saved, feel free to contact me via this blog and I will be happy to take the time to try and introduce you to Jesus.  If there are any of you that, because of my testimony, this blog, this road I never knew I had the strength to travel with God or even by myself, if because of this you have given your life to Jesus, I would really, really love to hear about it from you.  I may have slipped up a bit, but I don't want to fail in what God has chosen to use me for.

Again, thank you one and all from the bottom of my heart, or is that the heart of my bottom?  :o)  for standing with Lori and I with your prayers.  You have NO idea what it means to have more than just my very small family standing with me.  Again, thank you, thank you, thank you.  In the name of Jesus Christ, Shalom.

Mike

Let me entertain you.....

I'm not a huge television watcher.  Used to be, not so much anymore.  After I started the wedding calligraphy 12 years ago my time for watching television disappeared.  Now, it's only after Ali's in bed, Mike's ready to wind down for the night, the dishes are washed, orders are organized, dogs have peed, cats are ready for bed, that's when I sit down to surf the channels for a bit and see what garbage awaits my mind.  Thankfully, I can't stand the Kardashians (dammit, Bruce, grow a pair and get your woman in line, for the love of all that is holy!), Honey Boo Boo makes me want to scrub with Ajax, and that's just my EYES, and I'm documentaried and reality-showed out of my mind.  But the past several years, some REALLY good stuff has been created and it was always at the times I was busiest, putting the child and the day to bed. 

I'm not one for chick flicks or chick shows.  Not only can I not remember the names of the shows I've taken a look at and turned off because they were so insipid and ridiculous, I'm THANKFUL I can't remember the names of them.  Seemed like I hit a dry spell for anything that was intelligently written, interesting, and relevant.  My tastes might surprise some people, but I know the world isn't a pretty place full of kind people.  They're out there, but we live in dark times.  A show that will work on that premise and be intelligent is going to keep me ever so much more interested than something along the lines of Romy & Michelle's Class Reunion.  Although that was absolutely hilarious.

I didn't start watching 24 until season five.  It's like sitting down on the rollercoaster car, dropping the bar in front of you and HANG ON.  I LOVE, LOVE this show.  The writing was really clever (except how many times can you hear "What are you trying to tell me--he's a terrorist?"?  They really overused that "Are you trying to tell me......" a LOT).  But still, it's racing with your hair on fire furious and who doesn't love Keifer Sutherland blowing away terrorists?  By season seven I was like, "Good God, how much torture can one man endure?"  Apparently, a LOT.

So I bought all eight seasons of 24 on DVD.  I like to pop them in while working on calligraphy.  After all, nothin' says lovin' like the sound of bullets blazing from whatever weapon Jack Bauer is using.  All in the name of defending our country.


Then I found Touch, also with Keifer Sutherland.  I only saw one or two episodes online last year until this last weekend when I started watching the remainder of Season One.  It's FABULOUS.  I love the pulling together of several different lives all touched by circumstances and it all starts with his autistic child's discovery of a sequence of numbers.  MASTERFUL.  In 24 Sutherland was "take charge and dodge my bullets".  He wrote the rules as he went along, and broke them to suit his purpose.  This time his character has to obey the rules or lose his son.  It's heartbreaking to watch his understanding of his son come through in facial shots--you see that moment of, "I get it!  Jake, now I see what you were trying to tell me!" without his mute son saying a word.  I don't know who the little boy is that plays Jake but his face is exquisite.  I love how Martin Bohm gets to convey the emotions of the face and reach out to show compassion where before Jack Bauer shot first and asked questions later.  The story lines are so intelligent and complex, like life.  And as I'm going episode through episode, I see story lines starting to join episodes together.  It's masterful.

The Booth at the End.  I loved Xander Berkeley in 24.  In this show, he's a mysterious man that sits in the same booth in a diner every day, with a steady stream of people in and out of the seat across from him.  They've heard that he can grant them a wish but they have to be willing to do whatever task he gives them, even if the task goes against everything they believe morally, scripturally, emotionally, every way.  And again, all of the stories in one way or another wind themselves throughout each other.  It's a creepy premise--who is this man and how does he have the power to grant these wishes?  Who is he to ask someone take the life of another if that means the person's wish is granted?  Makes you question yourself, morally, as to what YOU would do if you had a desire of the heart and you were asked to do the unthinkable to make it happen. 

Revolution was another good one.  Again, weaving "what had been before" story lines through "what is happening now" and doing so with good writing, characters you either stand and shout in support of, or wish you could run over the villains with your car.  Smart story and entirely plausible in this day and age we live in with the threat of EMP's flying around.

The Following with Kevin Bacon.  Fast-paced, intelligently written.  Again, bring the past and what was into the present and what is.  Gruesome and graphic, yes, but then again, life is from time to time the same way.  The plot of the story could very well happen at the drop of a dime.  In fact, look over the past several years' of news stories and you'll find serial killers all over the place.  What I LOVE about this show is you don't KNOW who is and isn't a follower or has been affected by the villain, a scumbag that develops a cult of followers who are more than happy to do his murderous job for him.  Right now, there are three characters I'm watching in this show that I'm on the fence about.  Could be his followers, maybe not.  But I'm enjoying watching the show to find out.  Someone said that Kevin Bacon wasn't aging very well.  He's in his 50's, lost a ton of money to investments he made with Bernie Madoff, I don't want Wren from Footloose leading me through this storyline.  The crows feet and lines in his face lend beautifully to the stress of the dead and dying in this show.  It's not for the faint of heart, but I love it.

I am not a stupid person.  I can think and appreciate a show that recognizes that and writes a story as such.  Friends was funny, but the writing was terrific.  I'm not captivated by eye candy.  I want a story and writing that makes me think, has twists and turns, impresses me with weaving the story lines in and out of each other.  Please, take Kim Kardashian and ship her off to Miami or wherever she needs to go.  Just give me intelligent shows and Hulu and leave me alone.