scrapbooks etc.

I've mentioned my photograper niece Mindi before. Well the following post is directly from her blog. I wanted to humbly bask in the fame of my niece and great niece. This is too cool.


Mindi writes:
guess who is on the cover of October's "Scrapbooks etc."????? my annabelle!

i've been keeping this a secret for SEVERAL months, in fear of it falling through and me looking like an idiot. you have no idea how hard it's been! but i finally picked up my copy at my local scrapbook store tonight (they should hit the shelves at Wal-Mart/Hobby Lobby/Michael's/other bookstores, sometime around September 11th, i think.

aside from the fact that they seemed to "edit" my photo and make it incredibly over brightened, i'm happy. (as a photographer, the editing is really making me cringe, i have to admit, but hey, what can you do?)

annabelle is so over the top excited and can't wait to take it to school. dustin went out of town tonight for business, and took the copy with him to show everybody.

as soon as i can, i plan to buy a few more copies and probably frame one!

so here's how it went down:
i have a few pictures of my kids posted on a scrapbooking website (under photography) and one of the editors for this magazine (which is put out by Better Homes and Gardens) emailed me back in December, asking to use a picture of Julian as a possible cover idea for March/April. She wanted the picture in color, not b/w which is what i had posted. i sent them a copy, and they all debated it, and ended up going with a different photo.

however, for the next couple of months, i started getting submission requests that they sent out to a slew of photographers/scrapbookers, which you have no idea how excited/honored/flattered that made me.

then, a month or two later, another editor contacted me about possibly using Annabelle's soccer photo for the Oct. issue, since it was "sports themed". I told them yes, but didn't really get my hopes up. But this time, they voted to use it, and finally, months and months later, I have it in my hands!


There is a little write-up about the photo on one of the first few pages of the magazine, that gives photo credit to "Mindi Bartell", and talks about what we were doing when we took the photo. so neat, because 2 years ago, i added to my list of "goals", to
"Have SOMETHING published. anything. a story, picture, scrapbook page, anything."

finally, something to cross off the list. although, tonight julian made me promise that he can be on the cover of a magazine next.
we'll see what we can do about that...

fostering

Hi everyone. Nothing all that noteworthy happening here. I'm thoroughly enjoying this life I have. It's a wonderful life. Quiet and savory. That isn't the case much longer though. I've given notice at my little job and will be quitting at the end of September. Then I'll be headed to Arkansas for October to see my adorable grandson Roman. (I'll see a lot of other people too but at this moment Roman is the drawing card.:-)) Gordon is taking some time off work and since the girls are in school, he's arranging his schedule to be both Mom and Dad for a few weeks. Bless his heart, he is good.

When I get back home from Arkansas, things will pick up enormously. We are going to start foster parenting again. We did that from 1998 - 2002 (with lots of breaks to maintain sanity). There was a straight up learning curve, so I'm happy to be familiar with and fairly aware of what it will be like. For the most part our experience was good. Our hearts were broken in 2002 and we got out of it saying we'd never do it again.

Several months ago a baby died in foster care in Edmonton. The foster mother was charged. The media was all over it and it awakened the desire to foster in me again. Despite our own heartbreak in 2002, I know that every child that came through our home left better than they arrived, many left very noticeably improved. It was hard work, but enormously fulfilling. We had 19 foster children in that time frame, most of them short-term. Our longest stints were 1 year. We had 3 for a year or nearly a year.

Back then we were more open to what ages we would take. We took mostly teenagers and babies and we had an 8-year-old girl for a year. But now we're committed to only getting children younger than our own. We're thinking 4-8 year olds.

The girls are pretty excited about it. We have given them a lot of veto powers. When they say "no more" we will comply. I know of people whose natural children got emotionally hurt in the fostering process and we don't want that. Deborah and Hannah can't wait to foster. Rachael is happy some days and against it other days. We shall see where she levels out.

That's the most exciting news around here.

Just wondering

My dear sister-in-law recently sent this to me. Now she is years and years and years older than me so I've deleted from her list some of the things I couldn't remember and added a few of my own. When one stops to think about it, there have been lots of changes in my life.

DO YOU REMEMBER WHEN ...?

It took a few minutes for the TV warm up? We had a clothes hanger on the channel knob to better the reception. Sometimes when the static would be bad we'd argue over who had to get up to hit the side of the tv.
Nobody owned a purebred dog? I take exception to this. I am quite sure our dogs were purebreds. Purebred hounds. Is there such a thing? :-)
Your Mom wore nylons that came in two pieces? Hey, those are back and I bought some. Fortunately they don't require that awful belt at the top with the little snappy dilly.
All your male teachers wore neckties and female teachers had their hair done every day and wore high heels? Well my teachers didn't necessarily wear high heels, but they dressed nicely.
You got your windshield cleaned, oil checked, and gas pumped, without asking, all for free, every time? And you didn't pay for air? "Fill 'er up," is what Mama always said.
Quaker oats had little gifts in the canister. Mama's favorite cup, plastic white with green swirlies on top, came from Quaker oats.
It was considered a great privilege to be taken out to dinner at a real restaurant with your parents? It was such a privilege that I never got it, not till I was a teenager.
When people went steady? Kids these days call it "going out" even if they don't go anywhere. I think the kids are trying to mess with our minds. Then too, I remember using the phrase "going with." But even back in my day, I occasionally got stumped with that one. One day my friend told me she was "going with Jeff" and I said, "going where?"
No one ever asked where the car keys were because they were always in the car, in the ignition, and the doors were never locked?
Lying on your back in the grass with your friends and saying things like, 'That cloud looks like a ..."
Stuff from the store came without safety caps and hermetic seals because no one had yet tried to poison a perfect stranger?
Candy cigarettes?
Home milk delivery in glass bottles. I don't think this ever happened in my area, but maybe it did and I didn't know. It certainly didn't happen in the country. However, just for the thrill of telling it, my house has a milk cupboard by the back door. This cupboard opens from the outside, where the milk man would leave the bottles, and from the inside, where the lady of the house would retrieve the milk. Isn't that quaint? It's not unusual up here, though I'd never seen it before moving here.
Party lines. We shared a line with Mrs Nash. She and Stacie gave each other a run for their money. They were both quite the telly-gabbers.
45 RPM records. Gordon still has loads of these. I married a sentimental man who can't part with his youthful hobbies.
Green Stamps. I loved it when Mama would take her green stamp books and we'd go redeem them in Fort Smith.
Metal ice cubes trays with levers. Man did I ever lose lots of tongue skin on those babies.
Carbon paper. That stuff was a thrill to have. I found some once and it was a treasure. I made all kinds of tests for friends to do. I got to be the teacher when we played school because I was the one with the carbon paper.
Roller-skates. Gordon was the king of roller skating. He still has them and no matter how many garage sales I've tried to put them in, I've never been allowed.
Drive in movies. I miss these. I think we'd have some great family fun at one of these. And I'm serious.
Lincoln Logs. I never owned any of these, but I loved playing with them during recesses at school on rainy days.
5 cent packs of baseball cards with a pink slab of bubble gum.
Jiffy Pop popcorn. I remember the commercials although we never bought any. The commercial sure did the trick making me want some though.
Decisions were made by going 'eeny-meeny-miney-moe'?
Catching the fireflies could happily occupy an entire evening? We don't have "lightening bugs" here, but often on summer nights I think about them and wish I could see some and see my girls catching them like I did.
The worst thing you could catch from the opposite sex was 'cooties'?
Spinning around, getting dizzy, and falling down was cause for giggles?
The worst embarrassment was being picked last for a team? This happened to me more than once and yes, it was very embarrassing.

Thursday Thirteen

Television Shows from my childhood - shows we actually watched.

We had one channel, Channel 5 out of Ft. Smith. If the weather was just right, we might turn the antenna -- a big heavy antenna that stood beside the front porch -- toward Tulsa. If we were lucky we could pick up Channel 7. But Channel 7 didn't grace us often.

1. Petticoat Junction. I'd love to see this show today. It was about a lady who ran an inn and her 3 daughters. It had something to do with a train too. I can't remember too much, but I remember the train tooting at the beginning of the show and the steam rising.

2. Lawrence Welk. Saturday nights, 6:30. Stacie and I would dance to the big bands.

3. Gunsmoke. 4:00 pm. Only if Daddy wasn't around to forbid us from doing something as lame as watching tv. If he caught us watching tv during the day, he'd find work for us. Typically we kept one eye on the tv, the other looking out for Daddy. When we spotted him, the tv went off FAST and we quickly started peeling potatoes or something like that so we looked busy. Awh, what a fond memory.

4. Billy Graham. He was never a regular program, as you know, but whenever he had a crusade and it was on Channel 5, we watched it. During Just As I Am at the end, I always got saved again. That's a joke. What I mean is that I wasn't sure I was a Christian, so just to be safe, I always invited Him into my heart again, and again, and again. Billy Graham crusades kind of scared me. They reminded me that I wasn't sure I was going to heaven.

5. Emergency. I'm not sure what they were saying, but "Rampirt" was what I thought they were saying. It was about Firemen and Paramedics. When they were working on a patient they always called Rampirt and reported the dilation of the eyes, pulse, blood pressure, and respiration. I felt I had the credentials of a doctor after watching Emergency.

6. HeeHaw. Yes, we were faithful HeeHaw watchers. "Where oh where are you tonight? Why did you leave me here all alone? I searched the world over and thought I'd found true love. But you found another and pluuutz, you were gone."

7. This wasn't a show, but a movie that was on tv. We never went to the theatre for movies. That's what the Methodists and Catholics did, and we weren't like them at all. We did watch movies on television. This particular movie gave me the scaredy cat willies. If there is such a thing as opening up oneself to demons, I got one or two that night. After that movie, I was pretty sure no one could be trusted. No one. Anyway, the movie was called, Diane the Devil's Daughter. I didn't see it once, but twice. I'm sure I didn't understand it, but one thing I knew was that everyone turned on her. I mean they turned on her in a really wicked way. Their eyes would spin real demon-ny like. Even Jesus in the stained glass window of the church had spinning, evil eyes. It was really quite a horrible movie for a little impressionable girl. I've often wondered if my hardship trusting others stemmed from that movie. It was quite critical to my emotional formation, I fear.

8. My Three Sons. I think we watched this after school when Daddy wasn't around.

9. Marcus Welby, MD. Another medical credential of mine.

10. WWF. World Wrestling Federation. This was NOT my choice. This came on on Saturday afternoons during the NBC's Wide World of Sports, I think. I hated the show. Michael was the wrestling buff. I cringed as he grinned evil grins while he watched it. It meant he was going to try those moves on me. And indeed he did. I knew lots of wrestling tricks. I don't mean to imply I could do them, rather I was on the receiving end of them.

11. Hogan's Heroes. Daddy would have had a conniption if he knew we watched these shows after school when there were potatoes to be peeled and fried. Seriously though, most of my tv exposure was sneaking it after school.

12. Brady Bunch. "Here's a story of a lovely lady, who was bringing up three very lovely girls,..." I thought Greg was "hot" although I didn't know that expression back then. My girls use it now, so now I know that was what I thought of Greg. I thought that middle girl Jen was so petulant. I never liked her.

13. Andy Griffith. What a great show. I still love it, although I never see it. But Gordon bought me some DVDs of it a few years ago. My girls even get a kick out of it. We have all kinds of Barneyisms around here, but not as many as my sister Diane has.

Now, in the above I know I sound critical of my dad. I don't mean to be disrespectful. However he was terribly rigid about tv, especially watching it during the day, and he was quite the task master too.

So to balance that perspective, I will share a memory that is sweet. Daddy had a rocker that was his and his alone. For all my growing up years, it remained in the same spot. The rocker was replaced a few times with a new one, but it always went in the same spot. In the evening when we watched tv, I always sat on Daddy's left side with his arm wrapped around me. It was my watching-tv spot. I felt very secure and comfortable there. It's a very special memory.

You might be Dutch if...

Most of my readers will not be able to fully appreciate this. But for the few Dutchies who visit, this is for you. It's especially for my pure blooded Dutch husband.

You might be a Dutchman if...

You finish the food on your plate in a restaurant even though it is burnt or otherwise unfit for human consumption. (I have the easiest husband in the world to cook for. He'll eat anything. Whatever I make and no matter how badly I screw it up, he eats and doesn't complain. This was especially helpful in our early marriage.)

You reused plastic margarine containers long before anyone had heard of the environmental movement. (True story; last week after an ice cream social at church, Gordon plucked the empty pails out of the garbage to bring home. "I have all kinds of uses for these babies.")

You have a two volume address book, Volume I: A-U Volume II: V-Z (For those who don't get this, many many Dutch names start with van. Dykstra doesn't start with van, as you know, but it is the second most common name in the Netherlands. It means they "live beside the dyke.")

You have never skipped church to watch the Superbowl. (Dutch Reformed folks, most Dutch people are Dutch reformed, are really really committed to the Dutch Reformed church.)

Your main contribution to gender equality was the switch from King to Wilhelmina brand peppermints. (Queen Wilhelmina was a heroin and Dutch people take their mints really seriously too. I know a Dutch home school family and for a science research paper, the son researched brands of mints. Kind of weird, eh?)

Your range of restaurants is restricted by the contents of a "Buy one meal, get one free" coupon book that you purchased to support missionaries in Sierra Leone. (Again, this is a joke about the commitment to the Dutch reformed church and its missionaries.)

You wipe the last of the butter out of the container with your bun. (This doesn't need an explanation, but oh my, how true it is.)

Your closet is divided into work clothes and Sunday clothes. (Again, it's all about THE church.)

Your church attendance record is not disrupted by childbirth. (I think by now you're getting the drift.)

Your Sunday routine resembles: church, coffee, roast beef, jello salad, snooze, and church. (I have to admit, most of my Dutch connections are more into tea than coffee.)

You have a living room but never sit in it.(Gordon taught me there are two strands of Dutch. The formal and the very informal. I married into the latter, but I've met a few of those "never sit in the living room" types. They vacuum that room they never sit in a couple times a day, seems like it anyway.)

All your cookies taste like almonds. (True mostly, but I'd add anise seed to that too. Almonds or anise seed cookies, your choice.)

You have always been to church on New Year's Eve. (You remember the church thing don't you?)

You can sing "eere zij God" even though you can't speak Dutch. (I can sing a song in Dutch. Well that's too strong, my in-laws laugh at it, but it sounds to me like I'm saying it right. I can't get that throaty h sound. My Deborah does it amazingly well.)

You think that being progressive means discarding the church hymnbook in favor of Keith Green songs on the overhead. (In THE church, tradition is everything. You do not stray from it. I don't know if in real life the hymnbook is ever discarded in THE church.)

Seeing raised hands during worship causes you to look around for a stick up man. (I knew a man who tried to bring "revival" to the church. He suggested they stand more while they sing. He was ostracized as a radical.)

You are still trying to justify owning a dishwasher. (Holland was occupied during WWII and many people had nothing to eat. I go to church with a lady whose family survived on tulip bulbs. Thriftiness is inherent it seems, if you're Dutch.)

At your wedding everyone is swaying but no one is dancing. (Dancing is wrong.)

You have lace on your windows but not on your underwear. (It's true but I don't know the explanation. Rather I should say, the lace on windows is true. I don't know about anyone's undies but Gordon's and you know what, they don't have lace. Go figure.)

Your two permanent Saturday jobs are to wash the car and make sure you have enough single bills for the offerings. (Can't explain it, but I've seen it enough to believe it.)

All of your recipes are adapted to fit a 9 x 13 pan. (Functionality is supreme.)

You can't imagine a funeral reception without ham buns. (This is funny to me, because it's so true.)

The usher never needs to ask you where you want to sit. (Tradition is everything. But consider this, in the old world they actually own the pews they sit in. Yes, it's true. I suppose there are pews there for visitors to use, but the regulars have their own pews that they purchased and always sit in.)

You consider ketchup a spice. (I don't really get this one. Seems to me that my connections are more mayonnaise people. We had a delicious meal at my mother-in-law's a few nights ago. There was a jar of mayonnaise on the table. Gordon and his mom put it on their bread. From my perspective is was so out of place, but it's what they do.)

The above I got from my Dutch blog-friend Joan. But to add just a few of my personal observations:

Dutch people sniff whatever they take out of the refrigerator. We became good friends a few years ago with a Dutch couple. I was telling them how Gordon's family always sniff their food when they take it out of the fridge. The looked at me like I was weird and said, "You don't? Don't you want to make sure it's still okay?"

Dutch people put lots of stuff on their walls and in no particular order.

They leave their blinds open lots. When you go for a walk after sundown you can see in houses. Many times I smile at the houses with their blinds still open well after dark. How do I know they are Dutch? The cluttered walls and the Dutch shoes that are hanging.

They LOVE flowers. I love flowers. They LOVE flowers. The first year we were married, Gordon's cousins came to visit. We had a wonderful time. They were great guests. (They wouldn't eat corn. They said corn was bird feed. I've since learned that many Europeans consider it bird feed.) Once while we were out, I asked one of them to tell me the biggest difference between our countries. She didn't hesitate. "We have many more flowers." She went on to tell me how much she was missing seeing flowers.

I meant for this to be really short and sweet. I could elaborate more, but I'm falling asleep. As a disclaimer: I wrote this somewhat in jest. It is purely a light-hearted observation only meant to humor and shed a bit of light on my take of this sub-culture I married into.

Some of the most wonderful people I know are Dutch and I'm very serious when I say that. I love my Dutch connections.

From Lawana

I couldn't resist posting this. I got it today from my favorite sister-in-law.

FRIENDS VS. SOUTHERN FRIENDS

FRIENDS: Never ask for food.
SOUTHERN FRIENDS: Always bring the food

FRIENDS: Will say "hello".
SOUTHERN FRIENDS: Will give you a big hug and a kiss.

FRIENDS: Have never seen you cry.
SOUTHERN FRIENDS: Cry with you.

FRIENDS: Will eat at your dinner table and leave.
SOUTHERN FRIENDS: Will spend hours there, talking, laughing, and just being together.

FRIENDS: Know a few things about you.
SOUTHERN FRIENDS: Could write a book with direct quotes from you.

FRIENDS: Will leave you behind if that's what the crowd is doing.
SOUTHERN FRIENDS: Will kick the whole crowds' back-ends that left you.

Friends: Would knock on your door.
SOUTHERN FRIENDS: Walk right in and say, "I'm home!"

FRIENDS: Are for a while.
SOUTHERN FRIENDS: Are for life.

Having given it a good 10 seconds worth of thought, I have a couple to add.

Friends: Might say, "Oh my, I bet you were humiliated."
Southern Friends will say in a sing-songy voice, "God love ya, bless your heart."

Friends: Might say, "Look at that idiot, his fly's down."
Southerners say; "Bless his heart, his thingy's showin'."

Friends: Might say someone is ugly.
Southerners would say, "Bless her heart, she's kinda hard to look at, in't she?"

Friends might say someone is stupid.
Southerners would say, "Bless his heart, he's not the smartest pup in the litter."

Not bad for 10 seconds (give or take :)) of thought, eh?

Granny's Last Words

I just posted the last words of some famous people. I found them very interesting. The exercise reminded me of some last words that were very special to me.

My granny died of breast cancer in 1985. The cancer had been untreated for years and her breast were huge and hard as rocks. They were so huge with tumors that they had split open. Her neck was swollen too as the tumors had spread into her throat. She was in horrible pain.

She lived in a nursing home and I saw her every day for the last couple months of her life. Stephanie was a newborn and was always with me when I'd go see Granny. Granny loved to see Stephanie and called her "my baby."

As Granny deteriorated, we knew it was just days or maybe hours till she died. She was mostly unconscious for the last week or two. As she was laying there, mostly asleep but occasionally groaning in pain, I asked God to let her know we were there. She lay there, seemingly oblivious that we were there. But I continued to ask God to let her know we were.

Stephanie was a great baby and I have no recollection of her crying when we visited Granny. But one day as I was sitting near Granny's bed, Stephanie began to fuss a bit. As I was undoing my blouse to nurse her, Granny opened her eyes and said, "I hear my baby."

Within hours the nurses said she was in a coma and wouldn't be waking up again. She died a few days later.

Her last words, "I hear my baby," were the answer to my prayer that she'd know we were there. She knew.

Another special memory.

Churchy Chuckle

For those who don't read the comments, I'm posting my Aunt Jill's comment on Taking the Ball by the Horns. It's too funny.

She wrote:

"This story reminds me of an embarrassing moment for Paul's nephew. He was preaching on how bad habits can become like a ball and chain. During the altar call he said, "Why not just come and bring your balls to the altar?" You can imagine what that did to the invitation. That comment beat him to town. He stopped at a convenience store immediately after church and heard all about it from guys who hadn't been in church."

I love churchy chuckles. (Actually in this case, I think it was a churchy belly-laugh).

Happy Birthday to May

Today, May 12, is my mother-in-law's birthday. We don't get to celebrate it with her, as she's in the Netherlands visiting her siblings and other family. I miss her and am thankful to have arrived at this place. When Gordon and I married, and even years into our marriage, I felt little affinity with May. She was my polar opposite and all the qualities I was struggling so hard to accept in my new husband, May seemed to possess in even more concentrated doses.

I wasn't a nice daughter-in-law. I was moody, impatient, petulant, and angry. I was guarded, self-protective, and secretive. May had more reason than anyone to retaliate, poison others against me, "get in her son's ear" against me. She didn't do any of those things. She loved me in spite of me. She gave kindness to me when I was terribly undeserving of it. She overlooked dozens and dozens of offenses and kept sowing love into my life.

I am thankful for the work of the Holy Spirit in her life, as I have been a primary beneficiary. May is forgiving and has consistently shown love and nothing less to this girl who brought so much baggage into the family.

When my father-in-law died in 2002, I felt I'd lost the only Dykstra family member I could identify with. He was the only one I was comfortable with and frankly, I couldn't imagine my life in the family without him to neutralize and mellow things for me. But through that loss, God opened my eyes to see May for who she is rather than who I thought she was. I've enjoyed the journey. One of the great ironies of it all is seeing similarities in us. Who I thought was a polar opposite wasn't that different from me after all.

I respect May for many things. I respect her for the grace she showed me and continues to show me on a regular basis.

Her walk with God is intimate, personal, and powerful. She prays, reads her Bible, and consistently seeks hard after God. I hope when I'm her age, I'll be like her, still seeking God with all I am.

I respect and love May for being the mother of the most wonderful man I know. Gordon is a man of character and integrity and I know May is largely responsible for that.

Maybe, way over in Holland, May will read this. May, happy birthday. I love you very much and we miss you enormously - especially on Saturday evenings.

Happy happy Birthday.

Thursday Thirteen

13 Quirky Things About This Family

1. Our dishwasher is our "recycling bin."

2. Gordon couldn't stay in the bathroom to brush his teeth to save his life. He wanders around the house while he brushes.

3. Rachael runs - always runs - to the bathroom during the night.

4. We have found many many "treasures" among other people's garbage. That bites to admit, but it's true. I personally stay out of others' garbage, but my kids and husband have brought home many cool things.

5. When the kids are whining, but she got to do it, that's not fair, I counter with, "that's because she's my favorite." I know, it sounds sadistic, but it's wonderfully effective in making my kids smile and change the subject.

6. Hannah puts on her pajamas right after school even though she plans to play outside. No doubt the neighbors think we're strange to allow that.

7. Deborah has a wart the size of Memphis on her knee. She cries at the mention of having it removed. Gordon calls the wart "Deborah's friend" because she cries at the idea of getting rid of it.

8. The girls and I speak for our dogs. When we are petting Lucy, Bear comes running yelling, "Break it up."

9. We have more dressers and desks than anyone I know. I'm having a garage sale in a few weeks to get rid of some.

10. My garage sale proceeds will go to sewing classes.

11. We have a big water jug that we all drink out of. At meals, there's one jug on the table that the girls and I share. Gordon thinks he's too good for it. He uses a glass.

12. Deborah's best friend from next door uses the same jug. Yesterday she came upstairs and said, "Where's the water jug?" (Don't you know her parents would be thrilled to know this.)

13. The girls and I are pretty loosy goosy with our toothbrushes. We use whichever one is handiest. But we don't use Gordon's.

Poppy and Tata

I love having a photographer in the family. This is another photo shot by my niece, Mindi. Her lovely subjects are my brother Michael, my sister-in-law Lawana and all their grandbabies; Ezra, Juju, Bella, and Jocelyn.

I love these people!!

Happy Birthday to Me

With much second guessing and trepidation, I am posting my favorite birthday greeting of the day. If you want to say something nice and send me your greeting, please know you have my blessing in the comment section. If you wish to be mean to me, go to www.bemeantovalerie.com. There you can leave all the rude stuff. This birthday wish is from my sister Stacie.

Happy Birthday, Valerie.

You always write such eloquent birthday tributes to those you love and this simple greeting seems so pale in comparison.

What do I love about you: You have the most wonderful humor. You can make me laugh like no other and you laugh with me so whole heartedly. You writing is so fun to read because it can make me laugh though you are so subtle in the effort. I'm so impressed.

You are a great listener. Truly. You don't interrupt (like me) and I always feel like you really hear. Poor souls that have no one to listen. You listen to me blab on about what I made for dinner, what I wore to work, all the places I went, blah, blah, blah. Wonderful.

You are a willing learner. I mean, you've learned to sew, candle make, quilt make, cake decorate, geneology sleuth, write, etc? You do it with gusto and competently. I stop before I start because I know I can't be an "expert".....

You are humble. Yes, you are and no, you haven't always been.

You share freely and graciously your mistakes, misjudgements, hurts, pain, embarrassments, social errors, mis-steps, etc. There is something "freeing" about it when you share your confessions so honestly. God bless this trait.

I think I may be out of room, but you are a wonderful sister. I love you so much and I am so blessed to have such a dear dear friend and confidant. You are important to me and I miss you ever so much. Post this if you like and maybe others will add their love. If they don't, I know you will humbly learn from it :)!

Happy birthday, stacie

Crazy

Crazy people get a bad rap, ever notice? I like crazy people. I find them refreshingly transparent.

When my family was together in November there were all kinds of strange and unusual things that happened. I will say, to our credit, that none of us saw Elvis or any UFO's. But in other areas, we may seem pretty tilted.

During one particular crazy conversation in my mom's living room, my niece Misty said, "We don't relegate crazy people to institutions or basements. We bring them out in the open for family entertainment." It was a fitting observation.

There use to be a television show about four Southern ladies called Designing Women. I respected and wanted to be like Julia. She was cool-headed, grounded, intelligent, and the wisest of the four. My brother-in-law always accused me of being like Suzanne. (I think her name was Suzanne - years ago, can't be sure). Suzanne was petulant, snarky, shallow, and self-absorbed. I didn't particularly like her character. In my mind, I was Julia.

Once Julia got particularly perturbed with some one's discrimination of a less fortunate soul. With feisty conviction she rebuked, "Here in the south, we are per-roud of our crazy people." (That word was southern for "proud").

Since I'm talking about Designing Women, my favorite Suzanne scene went like this: She was up north and was at a social event with some proper, sophisticated, arrogant women. She was feeling a bit looked down upon, but was nervously trying to contribute to the conversation. She asked some of the ladies, "So where ya'll from?" One of the snotty women replied, "Do you realize you just ended that sentence with a preposition?" Suzanne quickly retorted, "I am so sorry. Let me try that again. Where ya'll from, Bitch?" I howled.

I am no stranger to crazy people. They seem to really like me and want to be my friend. Gordon is no stranger to the less fortunate either. I could write a small book on encounters he or I have had. I love his stories about dealing with drunks, mentally challenged, disoriented, and crazy people. He is so kind to them and I respect him for it. The nature of his job seems to take him into all kinds of weird worlds. But even before this job, he seemed to always be there for those society looks down on.

Once we were at a live theatre. Sitting beside us was a downs-syndrome couple. They were close to 30 and were married, complete with brass wedding rings. During the performance there was a scary scene. It really wasn't scary at all, but to this downs-syndrome lady, it was. She jumped on Gordon's lap, buried her face in his neck and cried. Her husband stared blankly at her. Gordon patted her on the back and promised her she would be okay. She sat there until the intermission.

Occasionally we'd see them in town and they would always hug Gordon first. That is just the kind of person he is. People open up to him all the time.

Recently he had an experience that was so funny. Now I promise you, he gets this kind of thing often, but this particular scenario was a first.

He was called to a scene where there was trouble. The trouble is irrelevant to this story. But during his time at the scene he met a man who very matter-of-factly claimed to be Jesus Christ. In Gordon fashion, he engaged the fellow in conversation and even gave him a ride to a homeless shelter.

On the drive the man opened up about the hardships of being Jesus Christ. Being Jesus Christ in Edmonton in 2007 isn't an easy life. For one, no one respects you. Seems like everyone and their dog knows that part in the Bible about "turning the other cheek" and that is what he's always expected to do when someone tries to steal his bottle of whiskey.

Even his family treats him with hostility. His younger brother is so jealous of him and his being famous and all that he tried to sabotage the whole thing. His brother, in a fit of jealousy, started a rumor claiming to be the real Messiah. Gordon's new acquaintance was royally "pissed off" by his brother's claim.

Gordon listened with patience and amusement and interjected an occasional question. One question was what his brother calls him. He answered, "J.C. It's shorter that Jesus Christ and it doesn't call so much attention to me."

J.C. asked Gordon if he'd ever read the Bible and Gordon said he had. JC offered to explain things to him because "some people just don't get it."

Gordon asked him where he was born and his answer was Edmonton. Curious, Gordon gently asked JC why the Bible says Jesus's birthplace was Bethlehem. Without missing a beat, JC said that that part about Bethlehem wasn't precisely accurate. "I was born right here in Edmonton. That part about Bethlehem is to keep the whole world from flocking to Edmonton to see me."

Gordon dropped JC off at the shelter. As he swaggered in, JC swore at some "low-lifes".

A Christian Affair?

If you read this blog, you may have already deduced that I grew up in a Christian fundamentalist home. (Recently I heard someone say that radical Christian fundamentalism is no less dangerous than radical Islamic fundamentalism. I've been chewing on that and I've decided I agree.)

To share a story that reveals some of the fundamentalism still flowing through the bloodlines, I want to share a line from my niece. Mind you, it was all a joke, but it's a joke only someone with fundamentalist exposure would make.

We learned about a person we know who was having an affair. It was a sad story, and we were all deeply sobered by it. But we, as dysfunctional as it may be, sooth our pain with laughter. As we learned the few sordid details that were told, we were all on brief downers.

My niece Misty knew just how to bring us out of the funk that had descended. "You know it's not even like he's having an affair with a good Christian girl. Think about it. If they get married they will be unequally yoked."

Hemmies

When I was growing up, my family was kind of rigid and uptight in matters relating to anatomy and bodily functions. I vowed (and carried out successfully) that I would create a much different environment in my grown-up home.

Some have asked what we called "those" things. Those who ask that clearly don't understand what I mean. We didn't talk about those things, therefore we didn't have to name anything.
We did however make references to elimination. "Use it," was short for use the bathroom. So when we needed to "go," we said, "I need to use it." That said it all.

(On a side note, once I was at my Granny's when she was encountering plumbing difficulties. I told Granny I needed to "use it." She was troubled as she didn't want me using the facilities before the plumber came. She asked me if it was my kidneys or bowels that needed to move. I was mortified that we were having this conversation. Firstly, I didn't know the difference between the two, secondly, it wasn't supposed to be discussed beyond saying, "I need to use it.")

We weren't so terribly uptight that the men in the family couldn't fart. Females however, went to private places to do that. "Fart" was a cuss word, so we called that function, "let one." For instance: "Oh gross, Daddy let one."

You would be forgiven for wondering why on earth I'm telling these things. It's because I want to tell a conversation that happened when I was in Arkansas. To appreciate it to its fullest, one must recognize "from which we've come." Believe me, the following conversation would never ever ever have happened years ago.

Because of the sensitive subject matter, (pun intended), I will give all the characters aliases to preserve their dignity. Now to the intended story:

One day quite a few of us were sitting in my mother's living room when a relative, Joni, walked in. Having recently had a colonoscopy, she was stricken with painful hemorrhoids -- not something most people cared to know. Evidently there comes a time in suffering when you just quit caring what people think. Joni had reached that point.

Having not recently seen Joni, Tommy, (remember everyone is bearing an alias in this story), quickly engaged in conversation. Innocently enough, he asked how she was doing. Well that was all she needed to open up. "Lord have mercy! Have you ever had hemorrhoids?" she blurted.

Tommy and Joni fixed eyes; clearly he was elated to meet a fellow sufferer. "I can tell you about hemorrhoids," he chimed.

"Next time anyone suggest I have a colonoscopy, I'll be quick to tell them, 'no thanks,'" she said. She quickly rose from her chair. As she headed determinedly toward the bathroom, she said apologetically, "ya'll excuse me. I've gotta go scratch."

Indeed we were aghast with the level of openness. What we didn't know was that another sufferer was about to come out of the closet.

When Joni walked back into the living room, Fred joined the conversation. Rubbing his thumb and fingers together to illustrate, he suggested that massaging the hemorrhoids with Vaseline would ease the itch.

The three of them engaged in details of their afflictions. Tommy, determined his were by far worse than any one else's, said, "I've had hemorrhoids so bad I had to wear a jock strap backwards." The grossed out family erupted into gales of laughter, knowing he was more than a bit exaggerating.

Fred was quite confident that his were still worse. "I've used enough Preparation H to slide from here to Dallas," he unashamedly confessed.

As they discussed their woes, I admit I had a little offering. Once to prepare me for surgery, I was given some medication that had the most grievous side affect. Specifically, it attempted to turn me inside out. As they bantered about who was the worst afflicted, I put in my week's worth of sorrow. I told my story, but since you know who I am, I'll refrain from the details. My problem was short-lived, but I joined with Joni in claiming if they ever tried to put me on that medication again, I'd protest.

In this 15 minute conversation, I learned a wealth of grossly funny information. Loved ones have suffered in silence for years, but finally the walls were coming down.

Fred went on to tell a well kept secret. His problem was so bad he had had surgery. He made us acutely aware that we didn't want to go that route. "I'm telling you, first time I went to the bathroom after my surgery, I swear, I thought I was crapping a freight train."

As these stories were shared, we were grossed out, yet thoroughly entertained too. There was still another sufferer about to walk into the light. Actually he didn't walk into the light, his child exposed him. He too had had hemorrhoids so badly he had had surgery. She told that Barry was so uptight and tense for his surgery that they had to bring in extra nurses to hold his butt cheeks apart. Again, the laughter erupted.

So if you're a sufferer -- they are certainly more common than I ever knew -- having heard enlightening details on the subject, I say sincerely from the bottom of my heart, I'm so glad it's you and not me.

Lifestyle Change

Well something good is cooking. Hummm. Poor analogy, at least in this context. I'm going to lose weight. Yes, simple as that, I've started a "lifestyle change." Diets are so out of style. Lifestyle change is where it's happening.

I've been on a waiting list to get into a program called Weight Wise. My first appointment was last Friday and it was amazing. I left full of hope and inspiration. The good vibes are still there. My appointment was 1 1/2 hours long and I met with an RN and a dietitian. They were very helpful. Now I keep going back, they'll talk sweet to me, and presto, I'm thin.

Seriously, I was so encouraged and I've not been encouraged in this department in years. The first thing I had to do is buy a pedometer to measure my activity. I'm supposed to walk 10,000 steps a day. Today I put on 15,000 steps and am so pleased with myself. You readers may do that every day of the week, but it's part of my new "lifestyle."

Secondly I eat "right" and write it all down so they can brag on my "lifestyle changes." I thrive on affirmation and since they are paid to affirm me (and offer me gentle assistance when needed) this should be a piece of cake. Oops, another bad analogy.

So if you're out there in the Alberta region and you have a lot of extra weight, check with your doctor about this program. It's great. I'm so excited.

On a side note, yet still connected, a friend who happens to be overweight herself, asked me if I really planned to tell the truth when I wrote down what I've eaten. I told her, that yes of course I planned to play by the rules. She belied her own weakness by asking, "what if you eat 3 candy bars?"

She told me she'd not admit all the overeating she does. She said she would tell them she had a boiled egg and half a grapefruit for breakfast. Mid morning 2 baby carrots. For lunch a tossed salad with romaine lettuce, spinach, tomatoes, cucumbers, with a sprinkling of sunflower seeds. No dressing of course. And finally, for supper, broiled cod, 4 brussel spouts, a small serving of cauliflower, and a fresh pineapple ring for desert. I laughed.

All that reminds me of a story from years ago. Somewhere, for some reason that I cannot recall, my brother-in-law Herbie was asked to tell what he had for breakfast. He casually recounted the picture on the side of a cereal box, listing them all: Special K, half a grapefruit, a slice of toast, and a glass of orange juice.

My mom was amazed that he had that kind of a breakfasts. "You really had that for breakfast?" she asked.

He answered her more honestly than he'd answered the other person. "Why no," he said, "I had a Ding Dong and a Pepsi."

Ezra

I have a new great-nephew. He belongs to Mindi, and Mindi belongs to my brother Michael.

Baby's name is Ezra.

When I was in Arkansas, Mindi and Dustin were still undecided about the name Ezra. Michael mockingly derided it. "My grandson deserves the name of a major prophet, not a mere minor," he claimed.

He makes me smile.

Canoing Mishap

First off, this is not me in this picture. However, when I saw it I was instantly reminded when something similar -- perhaps worse -- happened to me.

We were camping in Saskatchewan. We had a lovely beach. Sunsets were idyllic, somewhere between romantic and spiritual. The setting was amazing.

Gordon rented a canoe. I anticipated our family canoe trip around the lake at sunset.

Finally the sunset was upon us just as Gordon pulled the canoe to shore for us to board. After all the girls were clad in the life jackets, Gordon got them situated just so, making strides to distribute the weight proportionately. Problem 1: there ain't no way the weight distributes evenly in this family.

After the girls was seated safely, Gordon took his place. At the time I wondered why he sat before me, but now I realize it was the continuation of the aforementioned effort to distribute the weight. Reminder: there ain't no way the weight distributes evenly in this family.

With camera strapped around my neck -- important to capture this special event in photo -- I walked toward the place Gordon instructed me to take. The girls smiled lovingly; their moods were appropriately set for this spiritual moment of canoeing as a family on a calm lake at sunset. I lumbered awkwardly into the canoe. It rocked precariously. Gordon looked pensive, the girls were wide-eyed. When Gordon gave me the go-ahead, I sat down. That was problem 2. The canoe sank to the bottom of the lake and everyone leaped up yelling, "MOM."

I lost all presence of mind. I sat there waiting for the canoe to buoy, to rise back to the surface. Of course at this point the canoe is not just burdened with me, it is also holding a hefty amount of lake water. As the kids yelled at me, I regained presence of mind and realized the boat was not going to rise to the surface.

Again I lumbered awkwardly, this time out of the boat, now fully aware of what had just happened. Gordon tipped the canoe over to empty the water and then the family reloaded the canoe and went for a ride in the sunset. I took pictures from the shore.

Happy Birthday Diane

Today is my sister Diane's birthday. She is the oldest of my siblings, 8 years older than me. Diane married Herbie right out of high school, the summer before I started 4th grade. They moved away shortly thereafter. Fortunately for me, they moved back when I was in high school. After I married, she and I became best friends. As the years rolled by, we got closer and closer. Finally we were so close and so similar that I wondered if it were possible to be any closer. We thought so much alike that when she phoned me from Canada in the summer of 1992 and said, "Guess what? I met your husband last night," I took her seriously. Sure enough, 4 months later Gordon came to Arkansas and we hit it off. Diane got that ball rolling on her very own.

My best memories from living in Arkansas as an adult have Diane in them. We talked about almost every thing and laughed at nearly anything.

While I was in Arkansas recently, Diane got a hotel room with one king size bed. She, Stacie, and I stayed up talking into the early morning hours. As you may know, Diane is the only sibling that is of normal body proportions. Stacie and I quickly carved out our niche on both edges of the bed. When Diane came out of the washroom, she found Stacie and me sprawled out greedily. Diane stood at the foot of the bed, stretched out her arms about 4 inches apart. As she motioned down the center of the bed, she asked, "Is this my crevice?"

A good sport, Diane accepted her fate af sleeping between her rotund sisters. Up at the crack of dawn - she said we both snored - Diane got dressed and ready for the day. When she came out of the bathroom, she again positioned herself at the foot of the bed. The time she clapped her hands lightly and said, "Time to wake up Little Cherubs."

Diane has always been quick to laugh and see the funny side of things. This of course is one of my favorite things about her. I have a fine repertoire of Dianisms that only a person who knows her could appreciate. "By crackies," "them selfish giraffes," and many other Barney Fife expressions. (She mourned and phoned all her kids when Don Knotts died.)

Diane is smart, an inquisitive researcher, a knowledgeable Bible teacher, a loving, devoted wife and mother. She loves a challenge and doesn't shy away from hard work. She did the tile work in their new home. It is beautiful and impressive and one would never guess it wasn't done by a professional. Diane takes pride in whatever she does, always doing her best.

She has many gifts and talents, but her ability to laugh and make others laugh are my favorites. Her wisdom, gained from years and years of being a student of the Bible, is what I most respect about her. I love and respect her very much.

Diane, I hope this birthday and this year are wonderful. You bless my life in so many ways. I'm thankful to God that you're my sister. I love you. Happy Birthday.

Philippians and Thanksgiving Holiday

Philippians 1:3 "Every time I think of you, I give thanks to my God."

I recently returned from visiting my family in Arkansas. My heart is tender and warm thinking about my time with these special people.

Michael and Lawana got the ball rolling getting me down there. When Michael learned that Stacie would be in Arkansas for the holidays, he phoned my dad and my mom to see if they'd join him in paying my way down. Each of them bought a ticket, allowing Rachael, Hannah and me to go. Not only did Michael and Lawana buy a ticket, they also carried most of the work and financial burden of the Thanksgiving meal. Michael made a turkey, ham, pork loin and a brisket. Lawana made vegetables, dressing, and desserts. On different days they took us out for supper. They treated us like royalty while we were there. Truly I was very touched by their kindness and generosity, over and over and over.

Stacie and her family joined us in Arkansas. They were only there for a couple days, but our time together was good. Stacie and Jimmy have 4 great kids and they are such joy to be around. They're helpful, gentle and kind. Stacie is a best friend and always great fun to be around.

Diane is another best friend. She gave me lots to laugh about and we enjoyed hours of great converation.

Christopher. I didn't have any alone time with him, but once the festivities were passed and the crowds started thinning, I saw Christopher's tender, gentle side again. How his gentleness blesses me.

Stephanie. Pretty as always, it was good to see how marriage and pregnancy are agreeing with her. She's about 7 weeks along and still feeling pretty well.

Misty, my niece. A bundle of energy and captivating personality, she entertained me for hours, making me laugh over and over.

Jeff, my nephew in "transition." He too gave me plenty to laugh about.

CJ, another nephew. I love his affection and am happy I got to see him, as I didn't see him my last visit down.

Mindi, my niece that is most like me, always warms my heart and gives me plenty to laugh about. A few days away from delivering Baby #3, she was physically lethargic, but her great personality was alive and well.

Amy another niece. Nothing about Amy ever reminded me of myself until this visit. A new mom, I saw clearly how motherhood had changed her. Baby Jocelyn altered her life much the same that Stephanie's altered mine. I loved watching her and Salomom so connected to each other and to Baby Jocelyn. I was pleased to see how motherhood and wifehood fit her so well.

Daddy. Always the tightwad, I was very blessed by his contribution to getting us down there. It was the first time in my adult life to benefit from his generosity. Thanksgiving Day was clearly a blessing to him and I loved seeing him excited and happy.

Mom and Pabob. Unfortunately they got stuck with picking us up and delivering us back to DFW. I know that was a hassle of enormous proportion, so I'm thankful they rose to the occasion. (And I promise to never fly into DFW again.) Mama worked hard cooking for our Thanksgiving meal too and it was her idea to rent the community hall. And did that ever improve the day.

On my last day there, Mama, Memaw and I were involved in a car accident. It was one of those that easily could have been much worse. I'm thankful for getting off as easily as we did. Poor Mama got the worse deal, a broken foot that has to have surgery next week. I'm sorry about her foot, but thankful to God that she and Memaw are alive.

As I read Philippians 1:3 this morning, I thought of all the above people and how they blessed us last week. I sincerely thank God for all of them and for the joy they gave me in Arkansas and give me in life just by knowing they exist.

Philippians 1:7,8 "It is right that I should feel as I do about all of you, for you have a very special place in my heart... God knows how much I love you and long for you with the tender compassion of Christ Jesus." My thoughts precisely!