My Mom

I’m still overwhelmed with feelings, thoughts and emotions from Thanksgiving.  And as I continue to reflect on that day, my thoughts keep turning to my dear, sweet mom.  I haven’t blogged about her yet because she’s so precious to me.  I have such love, such admiration, such deep respect, such high regard for her - - well, the fact is - I’m afraid.  Afraid I cannot come close to expressing just how deeply I feel about her.  Afraid I cannot come close to conveying just what a remarkable woman she is.  Afraid that my meager words will somehow detract from the beauty of that woman!  But, at the same time, my overwhelming love for her at this very minute compels me to try.  So here goes.

Tell me - have you ever seen two more beautiful women?

Most of you know my mom - - who doesn’t know “Miss Bootsie” from the Daycare?  But my Mom is so much more than “Miss Bootsie.”  She is the epitome of a perfect, Godly mother.  She basically began her journey of motherhood at the death of her own mother when she was just 12 or 13 years old.  Motherless and daughter of an alcoholic, Mom raised herself (on mustard sandwiches and canned tomato soup she claims).  And she also raised her baby sister, Ginny, who was only 6 or 7 when their mother died.  (To this day, my sweet Aunt Ginny sends my mother - her sister - flowers every Mother’s Day).

My mom has, I think, always known pain and heartache.  She never talked about her mother a whole lot - it was probably just too difficult to do.  But I do recall her telling me how very hard it was to go see her mother dying in the hospital from a brain tumor.  She apparently cried out during the night in pain - - so much so that Dr. Maria Mangold told Mom, years later and in front of me when Mom had taken me to her office as a child for a check up, that she remembered hearing Mom’s mother cry out during the night from the hospital across the street.  Mom shared how, at the end when her mother could no longer talk, she would turn her ahead away from Mom and toward the wall and just cry and cry when Mom visited.  Mom surmises her mother was probably struggling with the horror of knowing she was about to leave three very young girls alone with an alcoholic father.

Mom knew not only the pain and heartache of having her mother snatched from her at such a difficult, young age, but also the pain and humiliation of growing up poor and in the home of an alcoholic father and an alcoholic step-mother.  She related how she used to dread having to ask for anything and how once, when she asked her dad for money to buy panties, he responded “Well, Bootsie Baby, I’ll see what I can do.”  I often wondered if Mom got panties at that time but was too embarrassed for her and too sorry for her to ask her.

Mom knew the pain and struggle of being a young farm wife way out in the country.  And then, perhaps the biggest pain of all, she knew the pain of watching with fear as her oldest child, Danny, struggled for his very life.  Danny was the most beautiful, healthy, normal baby.  You should see his baby pictures!  The Gerber Baby had nothing on Danny!  Beautiful blonde hair.  Big, bright, lively, blue eyes.  The happiest smile you ever saw.  He walked, talked, and potty trained earlier than Steve, Brad and I did.  He was bright and fun and adorable and smart and curious and all the things a healthy baby boy should be.  And then one day, he had an epileptic seizure.  I don’t think it was the first, but it was the most serious.  Danny was taken by ambulance from Eden to the King’s Daughters Hospital in Yazoo City.  Unsure what to do, the doctors medicated Danny with Dilantin.  He went into a coma.  I don’t know how long he was in the coma (of course, I wasn’t even born yet and Steve was but a baby), but Mom told me that the doctors told her he would likely die, and if not, would live his life as a vegetable.  Finally, not knowing what else to do, the doctors took Danny off the Dilantin and waited for his death.  Slowly, however, Danny came out of the coma.  He lived!  But, he had suffered irreparable brain damage from the overdose of Dilantin.  And so Mom carried home from the hospital a very different baby than she had admitted into the hospital. 

Please don’t think that I’m at all sad or disappointed about Danny.  He’s the sweetest, funniest, most loving man you’ll ever meet.  He has the biggest heart of anyone I know and loves all people.  I think the world of Danny.  In fact, when I had to write a paper on a hero for Mrs. King in high school, I wrote about Danny.  And Mom is not sad or disappointed in him either.  She loves him wholeheartedly, maybe even more than she did before the tragic event.  But, still, my mom knows the pain of watching a child nearly die.  She knows the pain of watching a child suffer brain damage.  She knows the deep, deep pain of watching a child - her child -  get teased and ridiculed by thoughtless people over the years. [I have to pause here to say thank you to all of my friends who did accept Danny and who never teased or ridiculed him.  You were all so great to him!].

I could go on and on about the pain and heartache my mom has had to endure during her lifetime.  About people (including us kids, our dad, and her own parents) who hurt her and let her down.  About dreams that she gave up for us kids.  About hopes dashed, and disappointment running rampant throughout her life.  About Dad’s long, 8-year terminal illness and how very, very hard that was on her. About her own physical pain and suffering that she is subjected to daily now as a result of back and disk issues.  But the pain and heartache aren’t really the point.  The point is what Mom’s done with those things and what she’s allowed them to do in and through her.

My mom has the most grateful heart of anyone I know.  Not once have I heard her ask “why me?”  Not through any of the heartaches.  Not once have I even heard my mom express a desire or longing for any material thing.  Rather, what I’ve heard from my Mom is soft, countless expressions of gratefulness and thankfulness.  She has this gift of seeing God’s hand in everything.  The big things.  The small things.  Everything.  For example, she might find a good parking spot in the rain one day.  She rejoices over that simple discovery, completely convinced that God opened it up just for her!  And she praises him for the blessing.  For every blessing.

My mom also has given more freely of her heart and time than anyone I know.  Even now, even after all the years of attending all (I mean ALL) of the events and activities that we kids of hers participated in, she’s back to it all over again with her grandchildren - - maybe not every, single event now due to having to work and due to some of her grandchildren living too far away but, despite that, I doubt anyone can show me an example of a woman who’s been more present for her children and grandchildren.  And I am so ashamed that I did not openly express to my mom the appreciation she deserved back then.  I can honestly tell you she never missed one football game half-time performance I marched in, one parade I marched in, or one band contest I marched in.  And not only was my mom at every single half-time performance, both home games and away games, she and Danny also drug that heavy band box to the fifty yard-line just before every half-time performance and off the field again just after every half-time performance.  And I promise you.  I do not exaggerate when I say “every.”  Just ask any of my band friends.  Frankly and to my utter shame, I never even thought about Mom and Danny, Friday night after Friday night, when I marched across the field and up the steps of that box that they had carefully placed  on the 50-yard-line so that I could direct the band during its half-time performance.  Looking back, I don’t recall even one time telling my mom or Danny “thank you” for doing that for me. 

My mom also made every single basketball game I played in.  Actually, I should say every single basket ball game - home and away - that my team played in.  I didn’t do a whole lot of playing back then.  Ha!  But I did so love being on the team - being a part of the team.

My mom is very tender.  She cries easily and readily.  I think that often embarrasses her.  But I look at those sincere tears pooling in that sweet woman’s eyes and spilling softly down her cheeks and see them not as tears at all but as expressions of love from a heart so full of love that it can’t help but spill over in some fashion.

I love my mom’s wit and sense of humor.  Frankly, those are traits I either never noticed or took for granted back during my very busy school days in Yazoo City.  But I see them now in her clever posts.  Speaking of posts - - my mom is also WAY COOL.  How many people MY AGE can boast that THEIR MOMS text and facebook.  Just this past weekend, Steve and I were teasing her about how she will probably start tweeting on twitter soon.  (Did I use those terms correctly?   I don’t really have the twitter/tweeting thing all figured out yet.)

My mom has a deep and sincere love for all people (I guess that’s where my brother Danny gets that).  You day care families - I can’t tell you the tears of both joy and heartache my Mom has shed over you and your families as you’ve experienced blessings and setbacks.  My mom has rejoiced with you in your victories and cried with you during your heartaches.  She’s prayed for you in your struggles.  She has worried about you and your children.  You may not know it, but that woman has cried over you and your kids and  prayed for you and your kids through every trial, hardship and setback you’ve faced.  And she has rejoiced over all your victories and accomplishments and praised God for each of them.  My mom loves you all so much that sometimes I think she actually forgets that she only has 4 kids.  Whether you know it or not, you are all a huge part of our family.

As I watch my own children (particularly my daughter since I am a daughter) grow and mature and gain independence and spread those wings, so eager to leave the nest, I can’t help but feel deep sorrow over the way I treated my mom during my teenage years.  I don’t think I was ever openly mean or hurtful to Mom (I truly hope I wasn’t).  And Mom and I never faced that mother/daughter struggle that I hear that every mother/daughter go through and, I assume, we were supposed to go through.  Frankly, I guess there just wasn’t time.  Mom was giving her all to raise and care for 4 kids including a special needs kids.  She was also running a household and helping Dad farm.  And I was a typical self-absorbed teenager.  But, what I’m quite sure I did do was neglect my mom.  Back then I saw her as “a mom” - a “thing” to meet my needs.  I failed to see her as “my mom” - a beautiful, tender, caring, woman who needed not only to love but to feel she was loved too.  I discussed this recently with Mom and expressed my deep sorrow and regret.  She sweetly claimed that she always knew I loved her.  But, still, I did not take the time or spend the time with my mom that I should have.  I took her so for granted.  And I never made a real point to offer her companionship during what must have been very lonely years for her.  How I regret that!

Mom, if and when you read this, please know how very sorry I am.  Truly, deeply sorry.  I know what it’s like to be a mother of teenage kids.  I know what it’s like to raise those kids alone.  Though you didn’t go through divorce like I did, you did raise us alone.  Dad was quite absent and, even when physically present, was rarely, if ever, emotionally present.  You never missed one half-time performance I marched in from 7th grade through 12th grade.  Dad only made one half-time performance ever.  And he arrived at that performance late and, after it was over with, when I so longed to hear some expression of admiration or appreciation, he told me that may have been the coldest he’s ever been.  (I couldn’t help but cry as I looked down at myself and mentally compared what I was wearing (a uniform that consisted of shorts and a top) to what he was wearing (long pants, boots, long sleeve shirt, and an over coat).  Anyway, Mom, what I really want you to know above all else is that it did matter.  You did make a difference.  And you continue to do so every day not just to me and my brothers but to hundreds of families that love and appreciate you.  Oh how sweet your reward will be in heaven!  Oh the crown of jewels God will undoubtedly place upon your head!

I love you, Mom.  More than I can ever express.  More than you will ever know.  And I just hope that somehow I am able to convey to my own children even an ounce of the love, security, and comfort that you have always conveyed to me.

Thanksgiving Thoughts

Another day, another blessing - - thank you, sweet Jesus!

So many thoughts flood my mind as I think about this most recent Thanksgiving and Thanksgivings past (sort of like Christmases past from a Christmas Carol but no ghosts).  First and foremost is how very blessed I am.  This year, neither alone nor lonely.  Spent the day in the midst of family and friends.  That in itself is a blessing - a prayer answered.

Second, is the sensual overload I experienced - the smells of a roasting turkey, a baking ham, chocolate cake right out of the oven, and my 12 year old son’s cologne as he sat down next to me to eat (that one surprised me - - had to bite the inside of my cheeks not to giggle right out loud).   The sounds of laughter around the table, gun shots from hunters in the nearby woods, a 4-wheeler in the distance, balls scattering on the break on the pool table at Ribeyes as I enjoyed playing pool with two of my most favorite guys (my Jack and my brother, Steve) and my sweet friend karaoke-ing in the next room.  The sights - - people I love, side by side, heads bowed, holding hands and encircling the room in prayers of Thanksgiving; Jack, his brother and my son walking ahead of me through the woods checking for deer scrapes and rubs; my brother, Danny’s ear to ear grin over just being with everybody; my mom’s warm, welcoming “you’re home!” smile, and those same old, tired Christmas decorations I marched past year after year down Main Street.   Ahhh.

Third, is of people I’ve shared Thanksgiving meals with before but, for various reasons, either was not able to do so this year or am simply no longer able to do so at all - Katy, Rick, Daddy, Granddaddy, Mamaw, Mamaw Ward, Brad, Rebecca, DH. George Bradley, Anna Mac, Laura Lee, Jordan, Aunt Dee, Uncle Rob, Robyn, Uncle Buddy, Aunt Joanne, Buddy, Paul, Kim, Aunt Ginny, Tom, Beth, Tracey, Terre, Sherry, Peter, Non, Pop, Mary, Jim, . . . so many others. . . .  After thinking about these sweet people whom I have shared so many Thanksgiving meals with, my mind wandered to other people who I never sat down to Thanksgiving turkey with but, who were nevertheless, important parts of my life.  I was a little saddened by the fact that I never got to share a Thanksgiving meal with these people.  I was more deeply saddened by the fact that many of these people are no longer a part of my life.  But, as I reflected on people in my life and on how suddenly some of them appeared in my life - - how quickly others disappeared from my life - - I was reminded that God brings people into our lives for either a reason, a season, or a lifetime.  I recognized that some people - - the reason people - - are gone because they have served their purposes - accomplished what God purposed them to accomplish.  And so, though I miss and long for them, I can, nevertheless, feel so very thankful that God did send these people into my life - - right where and when I needed them!  Thank you and bless you, my reason friends.

I also recognized that other people - - the season people - - are gone simply because the season is over - - “this, too, [did] pass.”  Sad, but God himself tells me to move on.  (Isaiah 43:18-19: “Forget the former things. . . “).  So . . . how could I not?  But, still, the longing for some of these relationships is deep and intent.  At the same time, some - perhaps many - seasons of our lives are meant to be closed books.  And, knowing God, that, too, is probably a blessing (even though it might not feel like it).  I remember you fondly, my season friends, and I’ve grown and matured through you and because of you.  Thank you.

Finally, the lifetime people - - oh, God, how I thank you for them!  These are those sweet, sweet people who you love and who love you from the moment you meet.  These are the people that encourage you, share with you, challenge you, correct you, connect with you, accept you.  They’re the ones that make you better for just knowing them.  They are the ones that, although many years might pass between visits, you can pick up with them right where you left off when you do meet again.  No awkwardness.  No tense voids to fill.  Just catching up.  Sharing dreams.  Remembering.  Being of such like mind that you complete each other’s sentences, share each other thoughts.  I love you, my lifetime friends.  You’ve blessed me richly and continue to do so.  Oh that I might bless you as well.

Good-bye, sweet Thanksgiving.  Thank you so very much!  I loved you and will cherish the memories of you too - - just like all the others before you.  As I say good-bye to you, I look forward to Christmas and all the magic it holds.  May my focus be most on the Christ-child this year!

I still - -

I still . . . 

love my first ever boyfriend;

love going through a carwash (especially the ones with the rainbow colored soap that smells like cotton candy);

believe in romance, fairy tales, dreams coming true, and happily ever afters;

eat peanut butter right out of the jar;

wipe milk from my mouth with my shirt sleeve when no one's looking;

cry in movies;

miss having sleeping babies on my chest, smelling their sweet baby lotion smells, and watching them breathe peacefully with their whole little bodies;

ride down Grand Avenue every  time I go toYazoo City hoping to see my friends out dragging Grand;

look over my shoulder for my mother-in-law when someone calls me "Mrs. Deaton" or "Ms." Deaton;

kiss my babies' foreheads while they sleep;

kneel by my babies' beds and pray over them while they sleep;

feel every heart break;

blush;

dip my chocolate chip cookies in milk;

double dip;

read 3 or 4 books at one time;

underline, highlight and write in the books I'm reading (even the fiction books);

appreciate a little sarcasm and quick wit;

slip out of the office early to shoot a few outdoor pictures;

tease my brothers;

make up stories about who I am and what I do for a living when I meet someone;

try to convince my children that my mother was raised on a tulip farm in Holland;

collect bird houses, bird nests, angels, crosses, and wooden boxes and crates;

write letters;

dream;

lie on a blanket outdoors to watch for shooting stars;

miss my grandmother;

regret not spending more time with my grandmother her last few years;

am a little angry with my dad;

regret that I didn't come home for the last family reunion my dad was able to attend;

grieve over my many mistakes;

dream of being a bride and having the wedding I never had;

think that Jack Dearman is the most handsome man I know;

stay up way too late;

lick the bowl;

get lost nearly everywhere I go;

purr (NOT snore) when I sleep;

procrastinate;

like to go to rodeos;

like to write poetry and short stories;

wonder why God chose me to mother such beautiful, special children;

refer to my children, now 12 and 16, as "my babies";

love baseball;

run to the mailbox just hoping to find a card or letter there;

am genuinely surprised when there is no card or letter in my mailbox;

wish upon the first star I see at night;

smell my dad's old shirts, hoping to find his familiar scent still lingering;

tell people I love them;

intently study people;

pronounce "wolf" as "woof";

listen to Kenny Rogers;

drive around on Christmas Eve to look at all the lights;

get car sick;

laugh when I'm nervous;

cry when I'm mad or frustrated;

withdraw when I'm hurt;

seek approval;

long for the good ole days when porticos and verandas were porches, a study was a home office, and a hand-shake was binding;

believe in miracles

Things Divorce Has Taught Me

Wow!  What a journey I've been on over the last almost 3 years since my separation and divorce.  And please don't think for a minute that I'm okay with divorce.  Divorce is sin.  Pure and simple.  I divorced; therefore I sinned.  I broke vows to someone.  Vows I made to someone in the presence of God as my witness.  God's word clearly tells me that he hates divorce.  (Malachi 2:16).  But it also tells me that he forgives us and that he even blocks out from his very remembrance all of our transgressions when we repent and seek forgiveness.  (Isaiah 43:25:  "I, even I, am he who blots out your transgressions, for my own sake, and remembers your sins no more.")  How awesome is that?  But, then again, isn't that exactly what we should expect from an awesome, redeeming God?  So, though I hate the fact that I took the journey in the first place, I'm thankful for all the journey's taught me, all it's led me to, and all the Biblical truths it's played out for me - - some truths that, though I had read about them in The Word, I had never internalized them and claimed them.  This will be a continuing blog - - one I will come back to and edit and add to rather that start a new blog with each lesson revealed to me.  So, if you're interested or curious, come back to this one from time to time and scroll down to the bottom to see if anything's been added since your last drop-in visit.  And I'd love your insights, your thoughts, your comments.  The way I see it, we're all on some sort of journey.  And a journey traveled by friends is not as lonely as the journey traveled alone.  Amen?

So, here goes.

November 22, 2010

1.  Romans 8:28 ("And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.") is truth.  God really does take and use all things (even divorce, sinful as it is) and use them for good for those who love him.  He doesn't just say that he will in his word.  He really and truly does!  Amazing!  God has taken the tragedy of my divorce and has worked it for good.  Through divorce, God has drawn me closer to him.  He's given me more empathy for all people.  He's sanded away some of my own judgmental-ness.  (How do you like that word?).  He's given me a love for hurting people.  He's helped me to see that hurting people hurt [others].  He's convicted me of the vanity and fleetingness of my pre-divorce pursuits (certain home in a certain neighborhood, certain lifestyle, certain automobile, membership in certain clubs and organizations, expensive clothes, jewelry and trips, etc.).  And he's brought me full circle back to the place in life where I stopped listening to him whisper ("this is the way, walk in it") and started setting my own course.  He's brought me back to working with the first ever law firm I ever practiced law with (um, and that was 21 years ago) and back to my very first love, Jack (which initially began 31 years ago with the sweetest, purest, most innocent kiss I've ever received).  How amazing is that?

2.  In my recent search for and pursuit of my very own house - not one I co-own with my ex - God stopped me in my tracks and whispered, "I'll give you a house, honey, if that's what you think your heart desires.  But it ain't [who knew God says "ain't" sometimes???) gonna be your home either.  I am your home.  Glory!

3.  The Holy Spirit convicts, but he never, ever condemns.  Any condemnation I feel is not from God!  Enough said!

4,  Not only did I sin when I divorced, but I sin as well (maybe even more so) when I continue to carry the guilt and condemnation from divorce with me after repenting and seeking his forgiveness.  See, Jesus suffered (I mean really, really suffered - far beyond what we can grasp - - recall the movie, The Passion of Christ?  Well, though that is such an awesome depiction of the cruelty, the suffering, the emotional and physical pain Christ must have endured, I'm quite sure it doesn't even come close to what he actually felt - - what it actually felt to be the one without sin taking on all of the sin of the whole entire world (not just my and your sin but great big sin - -  like crashing a plane of innocent people into the Twin Towers kind of sin - - and, yes, I know that sin is all the same in God's eyes but, from our own little perspective, I think it is good to recall just what Jesus took to the grave with him) - - and, in the midst of that, being rejected and denied even by those who had professed their love and loyalty to him (Peter)).  He suffered for a reason - - that I (and all who will accept) be forgiven.  Well, if I don't live forgiven, what does that say to Jesus?  Does that smack him in the face or what?  Does that scream either "I don't really believe what you did for me on the cross?" or "What you did on the cross doesn't really matter?" or what???

5.  God is an artist, the artist, the master artist.  He gives us so much beauty in the world to enjoy.  (Oh that we would open or eyes and see, our ears and hear, our hearts and feel!)  He splashes our world with the most vivid, amazing colors.  He fills it with sounds sweeter than angels' voices - - the sound of a two-year old's hysterical giggly, laugh; a momma bird calling her babies to breakfast; the sound of a new born breathing with his or her whole little body as he or she sleeps right on your chest.  God gives his artwork dimension.  And depth.  And contrast.  You know my very favorite pieces of God's handi-work?  His wild-flowers.  I mean have you ever stopped long enough to actually look at that old, falling down, decaying barn to see how beautiful it looks right there in that lonely, deserted, field admist the golden rods growing all around it?

6.  God created each of us with a longing in our hearts.  Each one of us has it.  Not one of us does not.  And we spend our energy, often our lives, trying to fill that longing - - to fill that void - - that empty place that is desperate to be filled.  In fact, we become addicted to trying to fill that longing.  And we try to do it with all sorts of people (think of all your broken relationships) and all sorts of things (material things, activity, etc., etc.) - - sometimes even really "good" things like church work and charity work.  But there is only one thing that will fill that longing.  There is only one thing that will ever fill that void.  And that, my dear friends, is God himself.  Oh he is relational to the core!  The very reason he created us - - the very reason he pursues us - - is for relationship.  Our God longs to be in relationship with us.  And he created in each of us a longing for him as well.  Why, oh why, does it take us so long in our life journeys to get that one?  Why, oh why, do we get it only after we've tried  over and over and over to satisfy the longing and failed over and over and over to do so.  Whoever said - - and seems like it was some artist in a song - - that when we finally have nothing but God - - when we're finally stripped of everything else - - then, and only then, will we find that He is all we ever needed - - whoever said that was right.  That, my friend, is also truth.  Glory!

7.  Being in close relation with God is not at all what I imagined or assumed.  It is not ritualistic.  Or stuffy.  Or rigid.  Or, well, somewhat boring.  It is wild and exciting.  It has me waking up each day (okay most days - - some days I still wake up and think "I do not want to do this; I do not want to face this day; my life is hard; I don't feel or see anything hopeful right now - - blah, blah, blah - - I'm a work in process - what can I say?) just wondering "how is God going to amaze me today?"  or "how is God going to show off today?".

8. Joyce Meyer has it right (and she got it straight from God's Word).  The mind really is the battlefield.  It controls us and leads us in all kinds of places we shouldn't go.  And it's fickle and easily influenced.  Take doubt for instance.  A little, fleeting thought of doubt (does he really love me?) shows up in the mind.  If we welcome that little doubt in rather than cast it out, it soon grows into something really big and ugly (he couldn't possibly love me - - if he did, he wouldn't have said "such and such".  if he did, he would have called by now.  if he did, he would know, just know, that I have this particular need which I haven't expressed to him but which I am nevertheless expecting him to meet as the evidence I, in my flesh, need).  Joyce points out in her two books about the mind being the battlefield the solutions.  And guess what?  The real solutions - the only things that actually work - are straight from God's Word.  First, we have to take every thought captive.  (". . . take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ" 2 Corinthians 10:5).   Then, we have to change those thoughts through renewing of the mind.  ("Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will."  Romans 12:2).  Finally, we have to replace that thought we took captive.  We have to put something else in its place or it will return.  ("Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things."  Philippians 4:8).  Again, how awesome is our God?  He give us the 1-2-3 step process right there in his word.

Anyway, dear ones, enough reflection for today on what I've learned on my journey.  Deadlines are calling.  But I'll be back with more.  God's laid so much on my heart to share.  Love you, have a blessed day!

9.  When it comes to family (and friends), take the best and forget the rest!  Hear me?  "Forget"!

10.  You pretty much find what you look for.  If you look for (expect) bad in people, you'll find it.  If you look for people's mistakes, you'll find them.  If you look for people to disappoint you, you'll be disappointed.  BUT if you look for the good, you'll find it.  If you look for the beauty, you'll see it.  (That's the coolest thing about my latest hobby - photography - it puts me behind the camera "looking" for something beautiful to shoot.  And, I promise, when you look for something beautiful, you WILL find it).

So alright then - -

- - later - -

11.  My friend Tracy is wise (and right) - - "God don't like ugly!"

12.  God is good.  All the time.

Brother blog!

A brother is a blessing; how lucky I am to have 3!  I couldn't be prouder of my brothers. All 3 have faced great trials and difficulties.  All 3 have come through with flying colors.  Let me introduce them to you.

My oldest brother is Danny.  Here he is -

As you might know,  Danny is "special" due to a series of epileptic seizures, a doctor's overdosing him with Dilantin, and resulting brain damage.  But, in reality, this tragedy is not at all what makes Danny "special."  What then, you might wonder, makes Danny special?  Why, it's his love for all people without respect to race, gender, national origin, or social economic status.  It's his child-like faith in and love for Jesus.  His delight at the sound of Christmas music and the sight of Christmas lights - - (of course, to all of our dismay, he likes the ones that blink - ha - but, then that’s just Danny’s personality - shiny, sparkly).  It's his deep concern for Mom - - to the point that he hid the coffee pot to keep her from having anything to eat or drink the morning of a little procedure she was having not too long ago.  He had heard her tell others that the doctor had said no food or drink after midnight.  He apparently didn’t trust Mom to be able to resist her morning coffee.  So he removed the temptation for her.  How precious is that?

Another thing that makes Danny special is his sense of humor - - you should see him when he laughs and gets "carried away."  Most people laugh with just their mouths.  Some people laugh with their mouths and their eyes.  Danny laughs with his mouth, eyes, and whole body.  He spreads his long arms wide or raises them in the air and all but leaps off the ground when he gets very tickled - - especially when he's pulled one over on mom or one of us siblings.  When I was an immature and foolish kid, this used to embarrass me.  Now, I just delight in watching Danny and secretly envy being able to feel and express joy so demonstratively.

Danny understands and enjoys contentment better than any of us Dews.  He can't read or write, and he doesn't really enjoy television.  Yet, never once have I heard him complain about being bored!

Danny is careful and precise.  He wants everything "just so."  When he buys something, he keeps the package that something came in.  And when he's done with that something for the moment, it has to go right back in the package just the way it came out.  (This often involves taping the package back together so that it looks unopened).

Danny's very particular about his things - very neat and tidy.  He has a certain place for all of his things and he cannot rest without cleaning his boots if he happened to have gotten the slightest bit of mud on them.  How many times Mom's begged him to just wait until morning before cleaning his boots!  How many times he's waited - - not until morning but until Mom was asleep - - to get up during the night to clean his boots!

Oh, how I love Danny!  And how I admire him.  And how I long to be like him in ways.  I wish I had his inner peace.  I wish I could just once experience the contentment he experiences — the joy he experiences.  I wish I had his love for people - all people.  I wish I had the ability to simply delight in the simple things he delights in.

My middle brother is Steve. 

 He, too, really enjoys people - being around them - talking with them - doing for them.  And he's quite the story-teller.  Every happening in his life is re-told us as a story.  Steve has the gift of entertainment.  He’s comfortable around strangers and could talk to a brick wall.  He gets that from our dad.

I'm proud  of Steve for so many reasons.  But, most of all, I'm proud of him for claiming God’s gifts of mercy and grace, setting his heart on God, putting his hope in God, and climbing back up after falling.  I'm proud of him for completely turning his life around.  For the humility that he’s developed along his journey.  For loving and caring for his girls.  For loving our mom and traveling home so many weekends after working such long weeks to spend time with her.  He hasn’t always done that.  But boy has he made up for the times he didn’t over these last few years.  But I’m probably most proud of (and somewhat envious of) the way Steve has grown to love and care so deeply and so demonstratively for Danny.  I can't tell you the one-on-one time he's spent with Danny over this past year.  He’s taken Danny home with him for a week at a time many times this year and, quite often as the particular week drew to an end, called Mom and pleaded with her to let Danny stay one more week.  He’s given Danny his time and his heart.  He’s taken Danny places Danny enjoys going, and he’s done things with Danny that Danny likes to do.  And, this year, he’s really tried to see and love Danny the way God does.  He’s become so very empathetic and has sought to love Danny more, understand Danny more, and see the world as Danny sees it.  A perfect example of this is with pictures Danny took.  Danny just “snapped away” with his digital camera one day (as he so often does), taking pictures of all kinds of things that most of us wouldn’t notice.  They weren’t particularly great pictures.  Few of them were in focus.  But they were Danny’s pictures.  My sweet Steve took the time to get those pictures developed.  He then scanned them onto his computer and e-mailed them to us.  You know what he typed for the subject line of his email?  “The world through my brother’s eyes.”  Glory!  Oh, I love you, Steve!  I love your deep, rich heart.

And then there’s Brad.  [wow - can't believe I couldn't find a pic of Brad].  I can’t help but smile and shake my head a little when I think about Brad.  He’s so funny!  He, like Steve, always has a story to tell.  And what great stories they are!  I’ll never forget the day, while coaching 5th and 6th grade girls basketball (note that he coached this team when he didn’t even have a child playing in this league), he called to tell me about a particular game.  He was so funny as he related to me, in clear shock and surprise, that some of his girls had cried during the game.  I couldn’t help but relate his story to that scene in A League of their Own where Tom Hanks says “There’s no crying in baseball.”

Brad, too, has taught me much.  He’s taught me about love and sacrifice.  And he’s done it without uttering one word.  I just watch him as he lives out his life.  He works so hard!  Very long hours.  Very long weeks.  And he’s on the road a good bit managing hotel properties.  But no matter how long he’s been gone, no matter how tired he is when he returns - - the minute he walks in his door at home - - he gives his all to his family - to his wife and his 3 kids.  He is so very involved in their lives, and I’m not sure where he learned that - - certainly not from our dad.  (From our mom, I guess - more about her wonderful, constant presence in a blog to come).

When Brad’s oldest child, DH, first learned to sit up, Brad began sitting in the floor with him and rolling a ball to him.  It wouldn’t even have occurred to most people to do that with such a young child.  But Brad did it.  Brad is to each of his children what each of his children need.  Somehow he recognizes and meets their unique and individual needs.  To DH, he is a an avid sports fan and coach.  DH is very athletic and loves sports - all sports.  At 3 years old, the kid would sit still (next to Brad) and watch whole NFL football games on tv.  At 5, he could dribble up and down his driveway - - which, in itself, is quite a feat at 5.  But DH did this with a ball in each hand.  At the same time.  Or he would drive his go cart up and down his driveway, steering with one hand and dribbling a basketball out the window with the other hand.  DH loves sports.  So Brad loves sports.  Granted, that’s been a little easy for Brad because he’s always loved sports anyway.  But, the point is, Brad’s gone the extra mile to spend time with DH the way DH most loves to spend time.

Brad’s middle child, George Bradley, is an awesome athlete too.  He truly is.  But he doesn’t love sports the way DH does.  Other things appeal to him more.  Well, guess what?  Now they appeal to Brad more too.  I can’t even imagine the hours Brad’s spent sitting side by side with George, playing video games with him and just living in his world.

And then there’s Brad with Anna Mac.  That precious niece of mine has more energy than anyone I’ve ever seen (except perhaps her own sweet mother, Rebecca - - it’s nothing to Rebecca to bring 3 or 4 extra kids home with her for the whole weekend after teaching all week and going to all of her kids baseball, basketball, football and dance practices.  And then, with a house literally full of 6-8 kids all under the age of 8 in full tow, Rebecca can whip up the grandest Thanksgiving meal you ever had!).  Anyway, Anna Mac is constant motion.  She’s never still or quiet.  You cannot lull her into a nap - believe me, I know.  And she has this incredible imagination.  Well, what does Brad do?  No matter how tired he is or how hard he’s worked, he walks in that door and he becomes Anna’s best playmate.  He allows her to dress him up sometimes (okay, not all the way, but he might let her stick a hat on his head or something), and he plays tea party or prince and princess or whatever Anna’s little heart desires for hours at a time.

Brad is there for his children.  He’s there mentally.  Emotionally.  Physically.  He’s there observing, encouraging and praising (never criticizing) everything they do.  He’s at every ball game they play.  Every dance recital they perform in.  And a whole lot, if not every, practice they ever attend.  And he teaches his kids by example.  He sets a high bar for them and as they meet his expectations, he raises that bar.  For example, as I’ve mentioned, DH is awesome with a basketball.  He always has been.  He’s the tiniest thing you ever saw out on that court.  But he’s truly amazing.  At 7 years old, the kid could easily handle the ball with either hand.  Lay ups.  Reverse lay ups.  Jump shots.  Hook shots.  He’s quick and agile and has his mind in the game too.  No lie, the last of DH’s basketball games I went to, I noticed he was setting screens.  I asked Brad if he had taught him that.  He had not.  DH picked setting screens up from watching the pros on tv.  Anyway, when DH has played on other teams for other coaches, it was nothing to hear the coach yell down the court “just get the ball to DH.”  He knew he could count on DH to score.  But Brad understands that life is not all about scoring baskets every time we can.  It’s not all about earning glory for ourselves.  Sometimes it’s about being a part of the team rather than leading the team.  When Brad coaches DH, he really reigns DH in (and that makes Brad’s father-in-law so mad - - funny to watch).  He actually puts a number limit on the amount of times DH can shoot in a quarter.  He makes DH pass off the ball, even if DH has a clear and open shot, a certain number of times.  And that was hard for DH to do.  Especially at those moments when he knew he had an open shot, knew he could make the shot, and knew his team needed the shot to win.  But, through consistent discipline from Brad, he quickly learned that Brad would not praise those glory efforts if Brad had instructed him not to shoot this time.  In the process, DH has made some unbelievable assists.  He’s learned to feed that ball in and make good, clean, often unbelievable passes.  And he’s learned about the glory in team work.

I often wonder if Brad knows how much he’s taught DH about ball, team work and life.  I often wonder if that’s been his intent all along or if he was just bending over backwards so as not to favor his own kid while coaching him.  In either event, Brad’s taught DH (and me through my observation of them) a lot about life and how to succeed in life and the rewards in assisting others even if he didn’t set out to do so.

My 3 brothers are dear to me.  Unbeknownst to them, they have taught and inspired me.  And they have done so by example.  Danny has taught me there is peace and joy in contentment.  Steve has taught me that, when we get our hearts right and accept God’s gifts of mercy and grace, we can have victory; we can climb up out of the deepest pits.  Brad has taught me that love is action.  It is sacrifice.  It is doing the right thing, walking the walk, denying self.  Thank you, my precious brothers.  May our God bless each of you richly!

Tribute to Luke

Last (solely because of birth order) in tributes to my children is Luke.  Like Rick, Luke is incredibly handsome - but in his own, unique way - - he looks nothing like his brother.  He looks like - - well, like Luke.  At only 12 years old, Luke has a look of strength - of substance - He has a reassuring look that says “I’m here for you.”  Just look!

Which brings me to one of Luke’s most enduring qualities.  He is kind.  Pure and simple, Luke is kind.  And he’s kind to all.  He befriends quickly and easily.  I can’t tell you how many teachers over the years have told me that, of all the kids in the class, Luke was the one who sought out the kid who needed a friend and befriended him or her.

One of the reasons Luke is such a great friend is he’s completely non-judgmental.  He simply does not judge people.  At all.  Under any circumstances.  He truly enjoys people - - people like him - - people different than him - - all kinds of people.  And he’s willing to give everybody a chance.  Take swim meets.  Luke swam for a while and is a good little swimmer.  But swimming was not something he really enjoyed.  He did enjoy the companionship but not the sport.  When he stopped swimming, he still had to spend whole weekends at swim meets because both Katy and Rick swam and he had no choice but to accompany us all to the swim meets we went to.  I never had to worry about not being able to find Luke or where he might have wandered off to at the crowded events.  I could always find him on the floor in some hallway with the group of kids that was playing cards or with leggos or with gameboys.  More often than not, Luke didn’t even know the kids.  And I can’t tell you the number of times when he asked if he could leave me and walk around.  When I’d ask where he was going to be, he’d respond “with friends.”  When I’d asked, “which friends?”, he’d respond, “the ones with toys.”

Luke is also easy to please.  He readily defers his opinion to the opinions of others and is never, ever self-centered.  When I ask the three kids where they’d like to go out to dinner for instance, Rick and Katy always have an opinion (usually different opinions).  Luke, however, simply defers.  He says that it doesn’t matter to him and to let Katy and Rick choose.  And he never complains about their choices.

God blessed all three of my kids with incredible minds.  Luke is so very smart and observant.  He sees and picks out patterns easily and quickly.  I can’t buy a leggo set - no matter how many pieces it comes with - that he can’t put together in an hour or two.  He’s a quick learner and he remembers and retains what he hears.  So often I am surprised when he mentions some hunting fact or some information about shotguns or rifles or cross-bows or knives that Jack might have mentioned to him on one occasion and just in passing. 

My Luke is extremely affectionate and respectful.  He’s not intimidated by adults and, unlike most kids today, can easily talk to adults. He intuitively seems to know the power of touch and is quick to slap a back, offer a high five, or just brush an arm with me, other family members and friends.  And he’s very respectful of adults.  Because of this and because he’s so easy going, I can’t tell you the number of parents over the years who have told me they love having Luke in their homes and that their own children are easier when Luke is there.

I could continue to tell you how awesome my Luke is.  But you just need to get to know him, and you’ll see.  You’ll immediately be drawn to him.  You’ll feel comfortable with him and just enjoy being with him.

Luke, you are my youngest son - my youngest child - but by no means the least.  You are extraordinary - as good as gold.  And, I’‘m having the time of my life just watching you turn into a man right before my eyes.  It’s hard to believe that, at just twelve years old, you’ve already learned to snap the head off a dove you’ve shot (ewww) so it won’t continue to suffer and that you’ve already shot your first deer!  Now if you and Jack would just pick up that deer meat and if he’d just teach you how to make that awesome fried cube steak with biscuits and gravy, I would be a happy woman!  Seriously, my son, I love you and I’m so very proud of you.  You delight me and amaze me and I’m proud to call you “son.”  You’ve got what it takes, buddy.  You are going to do so well in this world and, I know, with your kindness, patience and love for people, you are going to be one awesome dad some day!

Tribute to Rick

Blogging about Katy naturally leads me next to my oldest son, her twin, Rick.  (And Luke, buddy, you know I love you and have lots to blog about you too - - it’s coming!).  A big ole smile just spreads across my face right now as I think about Rick.  He is an amazing man already, even though he’s only 16.  As you can see from his picture, my Rick is unbelievably handsome.  And that runs core deep.

Rick has an incredible sense of humor.  He’s very quick-witted and keeps everyone around thoroughly entertained. 

Rick is very generous with his friends.  He often leaves for school quite early cause one of his friends needs a ride.  He gives and gives and gives, from his heart, from his incredibly busy day, and  and from his wallet.

Rick is so very, very intelligent - way smarter than I am.  (Now I get why he looks at me like I don’t know what I’m talking about sometimes).  I won’t state his GPA and ACT score here because I think that would embarrass him and would seem like bragging as well.  And bragging can get ugly and like my dear hometown girlfriend, Tracy King, says, “God don’t like ugly.”  That said, I do have to tell you that Rick is currently ranked 3rd out of 493 kids in his junior class at THS and that last year, as a sophomore, Rick scored a pretty close to perfect ACT score.  Which brings me to what I just very well might admire the most about Rick.

Rick is extremely dedicated, goal-oriented, and driven to achieve the high (nearly impossible) standards he sets for himself.  In school, despite being the very cream of the crop, Rick has challenged himself to improve his class rank. He’s taken and continues to take all of the hard, AP classes he can take rather than looking for the easy A.  And, despite his very high ACT score, Rick’s already signed up to take the ACT again this year - his goal is a perfect score.  Rick has also signed up to take the SAT.  Apparently, unlike a zillion years ago when I took the SAT, you now take some sort of basic or core SAT and then an SAT in a subject area as well.  Apparently, most kids take the SAT in one subject area though THS encourages them to take it in two subject areas.  Challenging, driving himself, and pushing a little farther, Rick has signed up to take the SAT in 4 subject areas.

And swimming - wow!  Swimming has allowed Rick to really demonstrate his talent, drive, dedication, loyalty and willingness to sacrifice.  He’s been swimming on the local aquatic team since he was 4 years old and on the THS team as well since he was in the 7th grade.  One year, when Rick had set his mind up to make the zone team (which he did), he refused a snow skiing trip with me, Katy, and Luke over spring break in order to stay back in Tupelo and train for zone competition.  He felt that, since he had made the zone team, he owed it to his team to give 100%.  To Rick, that meant making every practice and staying in the water.  To Rick, that meant choosing to stay in Tupelo so as not to even miss one single practice leading up to the competition, rather than going to Lake Tahoe for snow skiing with Katy, Luke and me.

Additionally, Rick gets himself up and to those early, 5 am, before school, optional weight training sessions and swim practices.  He’s never even once asked me to make sure he’s up.  And he never misses.  How do I know Rick’s gone to one of those early sessions or practices?  When I hear the garage door open when he returns around 6:20 or so to start getting ready for school.

As with my blog about Katy, I could just go on and on about Rick.  In case you can’t tell, I’m incredibly proud of him.  But instead, I’ll just (I’m sure to his utter embarrassment) address him briefly here.

Rick, you absolutely rock!  I am so amazed by you - who you are and all that you accomplish.  I love how you “make a plan, work a plan.”  Time after time in your 16 years, I’ve witnessed you set a goal - - usually a pretty high goal - - one that would be impossible to many - - one that most would dare not even set - - and I’ve watched you put in the time and sweat equity to achieve that goal.  And when you achieve the goal, what do you do?  Move the bar higher, back up for a running start, and charge the pole again.  That’s so impressive and will take you so far in life.  Oh, it's been such a privilege - such a joy - to be your mother!

I’ve never had to put pressure on you about school or swimming or anything that you’ve chosen to do.  You’ve always put so much pressure on yourself and worked so hard that you’ve never needed and probably wouldn’t have even noticed any extra pressure from me.  I do worry that you put too much pressure on yourself.  You are so very hard on yourself - so very critical of yourself.  I wish you could see yourself the way God, others, and I see you!

I’ve loved you your whole life.  I’m quite sure you don’t understand my mother’s love for you or have a clue about how deeply it runs.  But, my hope is that someday you’ll know.  Not only do you rock but you have been a rock as well.  Following my and your dad’s divorce, you really “manned up” and became the man of my household.  I hate that circumstances required you to do that, but I love that you did so without complaint.  You assumed the role so easily.  You provided strength and security that I - - that we - - desperately needed.  Thank you, my strong, handsome, loyal, dedicated son - for all you do and for who you are.  I love you.

Intro and Tribute to Katy

I'm new to blogging.  My sixteen-year-old daughter, Katy, invited me to "check out" her new blog.  I went there expecting to find something about what she had been thinking or feeling but, instead, found the sweetest tributes.  A tribute to her "timeless friend", Kara.  A tribute to her "best friend", Margaret.  A tribute to her favorite place (and my hometown - yay!), Yazoo City.  I never thought of blogging as something I'd be interested in doing.  Or would take the time to do.  But, after reading Katy's blog, it occurred to me that I, too, owe a whole lot of tribute to a whole lot of people.  And so, here I am - - blogging away.  Well alright.

So many people have touched (and continue to touch) my life that I want to pay them tribute here.  But, I'm hesitant to do so for three reasons.  First, I fear that I may forget or fail to acknowledge someone who is or has been dear to me.  (There are so many!).  Second, I fear that a friend, loved one or family member might visit my blog and leave hurt or disappointed, thinking I had not remembered him or her (when, in all likelihood, I just hadn't gotten to him or her yet).  Third, I fear that someone dear to me might question my love for him or her or where he or she ranks in my life because of the order in which I end up paying tribute.

My hope is that all who visit here will wait patiently.  That all who visit here will understand that my tributes will not necessarily be written in any order of rank or importance.  Rather, my intent is just to pay tribute to whichever particular person God lays on my heart at the time.  And tonight, Katy is that person.  (Forgive me God, for not paying tribute here to you first.  Thank you for being big enough and confident enough to know that you are first with me and always will be and for allowing me to share about Katy tonight.  She's just so on my mind (having spent a good part of the day with her)).

Okay, here goes - - my Katy.  My Katy is a beautiful young lady.  Truly, she is - inside and out.  If I can figure out how to add pictures, you'll get to see just how beautiful she is on the outside.  If you are blessed enough to spend any time with her, you'll get to see just how beautiful she is on the inside.  She's all heart!  And what a heart she has!  It's sincere, yet playful, and true, as true can be.

When Katy is happy, she's a delight to be around.  Her eyes literally twinkle, and her laugh is infectious.  She's the kind of girl that just makes you feel better just because you're in her presence.  And what a presence that is!  Despite her petite frame, Katy just fills a room when she enters it.  Her radiance can't be missed.

Katy is deeply spiritual, even at 16, and has the gift of encouragement.  She loves Jesus, and she lets HIM love others through her.  She spends time in The Word and, at just 16, already always seems to have just the right verse to share at the particular moment of need.  Shortly after my divorce, I was feeling especially sad, lonely, and quite overwhelmed one day.  My Katy text'd me Lamentations 3:22-23:  "Because of the Lord's great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail.  They are new each morning; great is your faithfulness."  Even today, after Katy and I parted company, she knew I was feeling guilty for leaving her and her brothers victims of divorce.  She sent me the sweetest text of encouragement:  ". . . don't be remorseful; it's worked out for the best.  I just hate it bothers you so much and wish there were some way I could relieve you of that. . . y'all did what was best for us; y'all always do.  And God has a brilliant reason behind it somewhere, I promise!  I've loved getting closer to you and spending time with you this past year!"  (Crying again as I copy this just as I was when I first read it).

Katy is so diligent.  Nobody works harder than Katy.  She puts her whole heart, mind, soul, and body to the things she sets out to do, and she does them well.  No wonder she won the class award for "hardest worker" in 6th grade.  (Was it 6th grade, Katy?).

Katy's creative, clever, and witty.  she comes up with the catchiest little expressions and phrases that you can't help but find yourself repeating them.  Like the "not JUST another pretty face here" response she gives me when I compliment her on the cleverness of something she did or said.  And, though she'll never admit it and will in fact deny it, Katy has a lot of artistic talent.  In addition to singing like an angel and dancing like Cinderella, the kid can write and draw!  I have saved and now treasure beautiful prayers and funny little stories she's written and great little pictures of all sorts of things she's drawn from the tree trunk with the carved initials, to the sail boat, to flowers, and houses and raindrops.

I could go on and on.  But, instead, I'll invite you to meet my Katy if you haven't met her, to get to know her if you don't know her.  You'll be blessed.  I promise.

And to you, Katy.  I just adore you!  You are my beautiful princess.  It is and has always been my deep pleasure to be your mother.  I just hope along the way I've touched you even a small portion of the way you've touched me.  I am so very proud of you and the beautiful lady you're becoming.  Girl, you are captivating!  And lovely.  And precious.  And intelligent.  And graceful.  You are all things good.  In the Genesis account of creation, we're told that God created on days 1-5 and "it was good."  We're told that HE created man on day 6 and "it was very good.."  My Katy, I just know that when God finished knitting you together in my womb in that "fearful and wonderful" way that HE did (Psalm 139), that he just sat back, smiled, and said "Now, my friends, THIS little girl is THE crown of my creation - - quite possibly my most splendid work yet!"  (And then you were born, and came here screaming your head off, and spent those first whole two years screaming your head off, but that's another story for another blog!).