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Showing posts from October, 2011

I will show you a miracle marvelous rare.

After much wrangling and argument, I was able to convince my son to guest blog for me using a paper he recently wrote for his dual enrollment class because he fantastically amazing like that. The agreement is as follows, I am only allowed to refer to him as MY SON and no clever blogosphere nickname is to be utilized in any way. At all.
 So here's a lovely tribute from MY SON, of whom I think so highly, who maintains a B average and is a boy after my own heart...
Men Don't Ever Grow Up: Their Toys Just Get Bigger
My mother has a father and he's an excellent and interesting man, loving father and husband, and a completely outspoken and sometimes ridiculous 'hot rod' enthusiast. From head to toe he stands as a symbol of rebellious attitude towards growing up. One occasion quite recently we went to dinner, he approached our table in a way that made my mother's as well as my grandmother's eyes roll. There he was standing at 5 foot 8 with a bleach colored, mechanic …

Into marvelous light I'm running.

Momma Nearney lived to be over a century old. She kept a neat garden and baked cookies until the very end. We would visit her tiny apartment adjacent to the home of her son. A part of her legacy was that a couple of her great grands and great great grands, including me, resided in Momma Nearney's apartment and it contains her essence many years later. Her greatest legacy was how her solitary faith influenced all the generations she begat. She discovered Jesus without benefit of a family heritage and we children and grandchildren and uncles and aunts and cousins accept this as ours, largely due to the example she set.

She loved and lived humbly and I am grateful for this rich heritage as I watch my babies come into their own, realizing finally the sweetness of His love, fragrant in creation. As they develop eyes to see no other Fount can quench the longing and ears to hear the calling on their lives, choices are made and voices raised in humility.

Humbly, we are almost whole. It …

When songs give place to sighing.

The news is grim for a young person. Fresh college grads can't find jobs. Their folks' real estate is worth half what they paid for it. There's legitimate fear attached to enlisting in the military. People are trepidatious at best with consideration to money, money, money. Revolutions here and there. Squabbling politicians at home and abroad, fist fighting in parliament and such. The constant search for a scapegoat is disheartening.

If only somebody could get organized, they may occupy Wall Street yet.

Is it any wonder when a young man fails to launch? As if video games and pornography were not emotionally paralyzing enough for a generation, now they cope with a pseudo socialist transformation and What To Do in the Meantime.

'Cause if the check's coming, hadn't we better just sit tight and wait for it? Or how much rejection can one take in a highest tech eats high tech world? And where is the moral compass in cyberspace? Shouldn't the lines be clearer in …

It's getting hot in here.

Bring me sunshine in a cup and I will return the favor with something good to eat. Or a sentimental smile. Or clap my hands together gleefully.

Bring me sunshine in a cup and I will be grateful if the winter's too long. Or my flowers aren't thriving. Or my toes just can't get warm.

Bring me sunshine in a cup and I think of faraway places like Carlsbad. Or big boats sailing the Caribbean. Or island hammocks.

Bring me sunshine in a cup because I like to hold babies. And put stickers on bitty fists of littles. And have kittens curl into my neck for naps.

She's cheer captain and I'm on the bleachers.

Senior Year brought a real prom with Lovin' Boy's public school rather than the requisite Jr/Sr Banquet at my small, Christan school. This momentous occasion required grooming above and beyond. This was, after all, the famed Peabody Hotel, not the local country club. This promised to be a classy, sophisticated affair with a local band and crystal punch bowl. This requires the kind of overpriced meal which leaves prom going teenagers uncomfortably dissatisfied after failing to eat the entire day due to excitement and anticipation.

I was definitely gonna need a manicure.

My Aunt P was on the job. She was enlisted as my personal manicurist. My mother and I trekked across town to her with visions of glam dancing in our heads.

Imagine my shame when she judged my cuticles to be disgraceful. Among the worst she'd seen, said she. She worked diligently and skillfully to remedy my poor finger grooming skills while I endured continuous commentary on the state of my hands: "S…

You keep bringing me back home.

I spend an inordinate amount of time considering the mentally ill mind. I wonder, for instance, how often it feels discouraged versus delusional. I wonder how often the moods and fears and thrills are accompanied by physical sensations. I wonder if it understands the depths of it's madness but is reluctant to articulate because it will easily frighten. Does it miss the familiarity of irrational thoughts when medication is doing it's job?

I sometimes panic over the swirling thoughts that must accompany every day with mental illness. And night. Is there a lonely feeling or just a different kind of normal? Desperation must be ever present and it hurts my feelings. So I try not to think about it after all.

But I can't help but wonder if Street Person Samuel ever considers the mentally stable mind. As he wanders down Summer Avenue, waving his arms and punching the air, he hollers indecipherable messages at the sky. Does he consider another way for minds to work or is all his …

"And they were frightened and called him the most wild thing of all..."- M. Sendak

Upon hearing a reading of Michael Rosen's We're Going On A Bear Hunt, little boys say:

"If a bear came in here, I'd punch 'em."

and:

"If a bear came in here, I'd hit him with a jackhammer."

and, even:

"Oh yeah? I would put gasoline in his eyes!"

"I'd put gasoline in his pants."

"I'd throw a house on him."

and, my personal fav:

"We could give him a papercut."

Real stuff my dad says:

"The other day in Biloxi, when Larry was in the cage in his gorilla suit, we coined a phrase, 'We have Stupid on speed dial'.

The seaweed is always greener.

Near the ocean, a little birdy scampers his birdy scamper across the sand, freshly dimpled with raindrops. His buddies have moved on down the beach, congregating for snack time with toddler girls adorably beautiful in their bikinis. Further still, some teenaged girls are dangerously beautiful in theirs. A young mother wades carefully out into the calm water with her baby boy propped on her hip. He likes the water but not when she puts him down.

The water is so calm, I can hear my beautiful daughter call to me from the waves. She and her lovin' man are enjoying one another on this beach day.

I am safely tucked away on the shore beneath two umbrellas, a slathering of 50spf and what once took the form of a cowboy hat now misshapen in an effort to protect my eyes, ears and nose from this Florida sunshine. It's lovely reflecting on the waves but harsh to freckle and burn fair skin.

A man child, ever increasing in stature, digs a hole next to me. This is his beach time specialty.…

Stay until your love is alive and kicking.

My HMB has nasty asthma which has plagued him practically since birth. We have spent countless hours in the emergency room only to find that he has another pneumonia so we'll be sticking around for a couple of days.

He would fight and make such a fuss. After a couple of days, I would begin to pester the doctors to release us. He refused to let any nurse even give him a Tylenol much less a temp check or a breathing treatment and if I was to nurse him, I'd prefer sleeping in my own bed and eating meals that didn't include milk cartons and jelly packets. He benefited greatly from the IVs although once they put it in the arm attached to his sucking thumb which made for some dreadful nights where I was forced to crawl into his hospital baby bed, rails and all, before either of us could get any sleep. One's dignity is secondary when one's child's has his sucking thumb all taped up.

Once or twice, sleep deprived and anxiety ridden, I channeled Aurora Greenway. I'…

"I'll teach you to jump on the wind's back, and away we go!" - Peter Pan

Sometimes, I am raring to go to the library.

Sometimes, I wonder how I will make it through Tuesday. Or Friday.

Sometimes, a redheaded sixth grader who is leaving this school forever (or maybe until next quarter) is having his last hurrah and his wild eyed apprehension has infected his classmates as evidenced by the bean bag tossing and floor wallowing which has commenced immediately upon entry.

Sometimes, I surrender and have redheads come sit by me and chat a while because he is untouchable when it comes to conduct points or pulled cards and this is my only real option to diffuse the situation.

Sometimes, I remember how charmed I am by boys that won't grow up and don't wanna go to school but I know that the Wendy would take charge so I do my best to herd the ruffians into "quiet reading" so they can reach their goals for the quarter.

Sometimes, dark eyed boys will request a second chance at being quiet so I might remove their name from the board at the end of clas…

That's the reason they're called lessons, because they lessen from day to day. - The Gryphon

Mack came into the library with his usual zeal. (I am discovering a marked difference in the zeal of 1st graders versus kindergardeners. Those Firsties are a tougher crowd.) This day, Mack's zeal included exclamations of zeal, bug loving zeal and female classmate taunting zeal.

He sang loudly upon entering the library so as to ensure I recognized his zeal. Something about underpants and ladies in France.

He was the first and only to zealously exclaim that, yes, he did like bugs on his tongue as I as paused to engage the class while reading a story about a poor kitten who got bugs on his tongue while pouncing after moonlight.

Mack then zealously revealed to the class how he spied the underpants of his female classmate who is not French at all. To be fair, she did perform a back roll in her jumper on the Jesus carpet during the culmination of the kitten's adventure.

Mysteriously or miraculously, a bug then appeared on the sock of Mack's neighbor during a follow up tale of We…