The aging little man...

Does he look sad, or is it just me? This is my sweet little dog Rusty. Okay, he's never been sweet, but he's my little dog. If his eyes look empty to you, it's because he's blind. Notice the cute little gray moustache he has too. He still looks sort of like a noble lion though, doesn't he?

Eight years ago, we went to the humane society to "just look". We didn't have a pet at the time, and we did have in mind that we would find a small dog that would be just perfect for our home and our four girls. We wanted a short haired breed, so we didn't have so much of the shedding, and we preferred a puppy that could grow up with us. As we wandered through, a chihuahua caught our eye. Looking back, man, she was ugly. Eyes so bugged out that she could tip forward at any time. She had been brought in with her "brother", abandoned by irresponsible owners. We told one of the workers that we'd like a visit with her, and we went into the little room and waited.

The worker came in with the chihuahua and the brother. Immediately, the chihuahua started yipping at us and was jumping around like she had too much caffeine in her food that morning. The brother came to me, sat down in front of me, and looked at me with these big, brown eyes. I've always wanted a dachshund, ever since my best friend in high school had one named Mrs. Beasley. (Yes, the dachshund was the brother of the chihuahua. Go figure.) This dachshund, however, was unlike any one I had been around before. His fur was long and shiny brown, and he just had the sweetest face. I looked down and said, "I've always wanted a dachshund." Ken said, "you want HIM, don't you?" I said yes.

They told us he was 2 years old, but that was merely an educated guess. He was housebroken already, and he had already been "fixed". We stopped by the humane society store and bought him a bed and decided we would pick up the rest of what we needed at Wal-Mart later.

Because of his color, we quickly named him Rusty. (I know, not original, but it stuck.) That night when we got ready to go to bed, I said, "Come on Rusty, let's go to bed." He followed me up the steps and went straight to his little bed beside mine, and he curled up to go to sleep. As far as I know, he didn't move all night. I think he was just happy to be home.

He's been pretty grumpy throughout his life, but he sure has loved his family. He especially loves Ken, for a similar reason the girls and I love him. Ken is fun, entertaining, and he spends time with Rusty. When Rusty isn't feeling well or wants to rest, he curls up beside me. When he wants to be comforted, he comes to me. Lately, he has come to me a lot. We aren't real sure when he started losing his eyesight, because it happened rather quickly. One day he was jumping around playing, as much as he ever really played, and the next minute we were tossing him Goldfish crackers just to watch them bounce off his nose because he never saw it coming. Now he's bumping into walls, struggling to climb the steps, and running into the backs of my legs when he follows me. He sleeps a lot, and when he's lying down, his breathing is labored. When he looks at me, he just looks sad. When I look at him, I feel sad.

This is quite the dilemma, as we now face the fate of our aging canine companion. To look at the prospect of our home without Rusty just tears me up. The questions come up constantly... "Is he in pain? Is this inhumane? Are we being selfish?" When does one know it's time to make that awful choice to humanely end a pet's life? It's like watching him lose a battle to a terminal disease, and just having to wait until it's his time to go. It's greuling really, and I wasn't prepared for the toll it would take on my emotions.

Rusty isn't our only dog, but he's our only Rusty. He's a proud little booger, but he's quickly becoming a very dependant one too. As we watch him wither, the thoughts of his fate have rolled around in my brain. I am Biblically educated enough to understand that because dogs have no souls, they can't trust Jesus as their Savior and can't go to Heaven. On the other hand, I lead myself to wonder if maybe God allows the sweet ones to go so they can be companions for us when we get there. Then I remember that Rusty isn't one of the sweet ones by anyone's standards, because he's been grumbly and grumpy most of his life. So then I realize that when he's gone, he's gone. Shoot. I really hate the way that feels. Yes, I know he's only a dog, and believe me I have my priorities straight as far as animals versus people go. Until you go through it though, don't judge me, because my little noble lion doesn't have very much longer.

A little something special from Nubia Group....

Praise God from Whom all blessings flow! Have a thankful Thursday!!

A limousine to Pizza Inn...

Doesn't that sound funny? I mean, if you had a chance to take a limo, would you take it to Pizza Inn? Well, that's where I'm going today, and that's my mode of transportation!

You see, we have these fundraisers each year at school, and the top sellers get to take a limo ride to a local restaurant and have lunch and hang out with their friends. This year, that restaurant is Pizza Inn. I get to "chaperone" this event. (Geez. I'll do it if I have to and get paid for it.) I have to tell you that when I did this last year, it was my first time in a limousine. I was just one more kid in the group. It reminded me of Tom Hanks in the movie Big when he was in the back of the limousine. (Except mine was blinged out like the one above, loud, and much cooler.) I was touching everything, eyes as wide as saucers, and even rolling the windows up and down. (Snapping stupid pictures with my phone, showing my goofy grin.) If I could have done it without getting in trouble, I would have opened that sunroof and popped up through it just like Tom Hanks did in that movie.

Instead, I took it all in and watched the kids' reactions to everything. There was one little boy in particular, smaller than the others, that I just couldn't take my eyes off of. (I happen to know this little boy from my class at school, and he's a real sweet kid.) He's a precious Latino child from a hard-working family whose parents are doing their very best to provide a good life for their children. This child, like myself, had never been anywhere near a limousine. You think my eyes were wide, you should have seen his big brown eyes. He asked me if he could roll the window down, and I told him he could as long as he kept his arms in the vehicle. He did, and it was like I was watching a scene from an Oscar winning movie in slow motion. He leaned toward the window, closed his eyes, and let the wind blow through his black hair. A smile crept on his face, and he slowly opened his eyes. He continued to look out the window, all the while smiling, and his eyes had this sense of peace that I don't think I've ever seen in a child. I could almost hear his little mind saying, "Wow... Look at me world... I am in a limousine!" I wanted to speak to him, but I didn't want to ruin the moment, and frankly I was teary and afraid I would break if I opened my mouth. He didn't even know anyone else was there, however, and that's just how it needed to be for him.

Later in our trip, I said to him something along the lines of this all being pretty cool. He nodded and whispered a quiet "yes". I asked if he'd ever been in a limousine before, and he said no. I told him that I hope when he grows up he will be able to ride in a limousine any time he wants to. He took his eyes from the floor right up to my eyes and smiled, and I'm pretty sure I saw a tear. I bet he saw one too.

So today, I must sacrifice my class time for another tough limousine ride with the kids. I hope that today, just like last time, God will take my attention away from myself and place it where it needs to be. When I look at those children, I ache for them, because I just don't really know what their future holds. Today I will look at them with a smile, remember Jose, and pray that God will give each of them a future of pizza and limousines.

Umm... Can't think of a clever title for this....

So you know how a newspaper issues a retraction when something inappropriate is printed or inaccurate is stated? Well, yesterday's post was truthful, so I'm not retracting. However, I would like to share the rest of the story....

The past few years have been tough ones financially. Heck, they have been super crappy. We have been through job losses to the point that the last one left me saying, "oh well." It's a horrifying thing the first time it happens, because you think, "where will we live? how will we eat? what about the kids?" By the 4th loss, you think, "dang, God, here we go again. I know You'll provide like You always do."

Ken has been out of work A LOT. This is a man who wouldn't back down from hard work for anything in the world, especially when it comes to his family. I mean, the man went from being an account executive making good money to delivering pizzas to put food on our table. If there was a ditch to be dug, he would have been a ditch digger. Having said all of that, let me tell you why Ken doesn't hear his alarm in the mornings.

He's pooped. Life has beat him up. His butt has officially been kicked. It may take him a little while to get going, but when he does, he goes at it with everything he's got. He started a new job just a few weeks ago, hopefully the last one before he retires, and he has really worked some hours. He said the other night, "man, I don't even want to count up how many hours I've worked this week." Guess what? I did. It was between 75 and 80. Holy cow. That's a lot. It's especially a lot when you have been out of work and doing nothing for 3 months. It's quite the adjustment. That's a hard-working man. He told me when he started this job, "Honey, I'm going to give this job everything I've got." I replied, "Babe, you always have."

So I'm not retracting what I said yesterday, because Ken even by his own admission just had a rough morning. He came home last night and said, "Sorry I was an a** this morning." I just nodded and said, "Yes, you were, but I forgive you." Pretty cool, huh? (Can I get that in writing?) Do I still wish he would get up when his alarm goes off? Absofreakinlutely.

This is alarming...

For many years now, my alarm clock has gone off at God-awful times in the morning so that I may run the daily race of accomplishing all that a wife and mother must do. These days, the alarm sounds at 5:20, and it's truly like the gun at the starting line has just gone off in my head. I know that if I don't jump up, get in the shower, and continue running, somehow my schedule will be thrown off and something won't get done on time. This is why the following is so puzzling to me.

Ken (husband) was so angry this morning. For our entire married lives of 20 years, he has had multiple alarms that sound in the morning. However, when he hears them, well, he either doesn't hear them or chooses to ignore them. So, this morning, at 6:20, I lovingly said, in my loudest without disturbing the neighbors voice, "YOU WOULD THINK A 44 YEAR OLD MAN COULD GET UP WITHOUT HIS MOTHER TELLING HIM 10 TIMES!!!" (Grace is my daughter's middle name, not mine.) He finally rolled himself out, and he started busting around like there was no tomorrow. He said, "how does my alarm just not go off?!!!" Um, it did. Just like every other morning of our lives. You just didn't get up like always! No, I didn't say it, but I was thinking it. Listen, for years I have gotten myself up by 5:30, gotten myself ready, cooked breakfast, helped 4 daughters get ready, gotten things together, and headed out the door. I can count on just a couple of fingers how many times my children have been "tardy" for school. I'm not bragging, because it is not on my own power that I do anything, but it is beyond me how I can do all that and still have to help Ken get out the door!

Please don't think I'm man-bashing, and those of you that know me know that I love my husband dearly, but please tell me I am not alone in this. I have a friend that I used to work with that would get so aggravated because she had to cook breakfast for her kids. You see, her husband usually gets up, wakes the kids up, brings her coffee and a poptart to the bed, wakes her up, starts the shower for her, and then cooks breakfast for the kids and takes them to school. SHUT UP! Are you kidding me? If that happened in my house, I would wake up terrified because it would mean there was a strange man in my home and he has Ken tied in a closet somewhere! Then, if I rubbed my eyes for a second look and saw that it was Ken, I would be sure that it was INVASION OF THE BODY SNATCHERS in South Carolina!!

Years ago when we were first married, before children, we lived in a cozy apartment. Ken worked at UPS in the preload division, and he had to basically get up in the middle of the night to go to work. I didn't, however, but he had 4 alarm clocks. One of those clocks was one of those old time wind up jobs that had the bells on top. It would clang clang clang so hard that it would almost make me throw up when it went off. To make things worse, Ken kept it across the room so that he would have to get up to turn it off. (Thinking that maybe it would KEEP him up. WRONG.) Guess who ended up turning it off most of the time? I can't remember if it was the third or fourth clock to go off, but one night it just hit me totally wrong. I had it. That clang, clang, clang had that clock jumping around on the dresser. I jumped up, grabbed the clock, and threw it as hard as I could at Ken. It missed his head, thank goodness, and it busted into about 5 pieces against the wall. Mission accomplished. Notice I have since learned to use my words to express my anger.

I was watching Annie one day, and there is one part of the movie that a man dances in with flowers in hand, and he gracefully gives them to Annie. I said, "I wish a man would dance into the room and give me flowers." Here's the funny thing, a man like that would drive me crazy. Maybe it's because I'm not accustomed to it. If I had someone waiting on me hand and foot, I would probably make fun of him for not being more of a man. So, you may ask, what do you want? Flowers? Breakfast? Peace, love, and joy? Nope. I just want my man to get up when his alarm clock sounds. Maybe when he turns 45?

Do the happy dance!!!

DON'T YOU TELL ME YOU CAN'T DANCE! EVERYONE CAN, JUST SOME NOT AS WELL AS OTHERS!!

IT'S FRIDAY!! DANCE LIKE NO ONE IS WATCHING!!! WOO HOO!!

Overwhelmed with joy and gratitude!

Who would ever think that a 41st birthday could be so much fun? Wow!! It started out great as I had received a dare to wear my birthday crown to work yesterday morning. I put it on before leaving the house. *Insert movie quote here...* Nobody puts Baby in a corner.

Lauren and I dropped off Cassie and Kylie at school, and we proceeded to the Chic Fil-a drive thru for a little buy one/get one free breakfast. When I pulled up to the window and handed the lady my money, she said, "OH, look, it's your birthday! Honey, take this money back. It's our treat!" All the while, the manager was leaning out the window singing, "Happy birthday to you...." I was laughing and thanked them profusely, let the manager complete the song, and drove away. I stopped at the edge of the parking lot and looked at Lauren. She looked at me and said, "That was SO WEIRD." HAHA... It was fantastic!

When I got to school, my crown was a hit. Teachers and students alike were wishing me a happy birthday, but about mid-morning I started feeling a bit obnoxious. I left the crown in the classroom. I sure was happy to let my dare friend know that she had provided free breakfast for me that morning! The day went by quickly, and I went for a haircut. Shorter is better when it comes to my hair. It looks just lovely if I must say so myself.

When I got home, it was clean and decorated with party decor, and there was a home-baked cake sitting in the kitchen! My oldest daughter had spent her morning preparing these treats just for me! What a kid she is! When Ken arrived home, he had pizza and my favorite movie of the time, BlindSide, that he had bought just for me. We enjoyed a nice relaxing evening at home with pizza and that wonderful movie.

Just as overwhelming, and you can say what you want about social networking sites, but my Facebook just blew me away yesterday. I usually check in the morning, midday, and at night. (and a couple hundred times in between) By morning I had between 15 and 20 notifications from family, friends, and those I haven't seen in years. By lunch time, I had 19 more. Last night, I had 14 more. I really didn't realize I even knew that many people that well! Each note meant so much to me, because just the idea that they thought of me as they typed "happy birthday" warms my heart.

I didn't get to spend the day with my grandmother, but she and I talked of course and planned to be together next Saturday. Next year, God willing, I think I'll take a day off to be with her on the 21st. That sure would make me feel good. Anyway, the day reminded me of how truly blessed I am. God has been so good to me. Have you thanked Him lately for all He has done for you? My goal in life is to live a life of thankfulness. Thank you Lord for all that you have given me and for the loved ones you have placed in my life!

It's my birthday!!!

It has already been a wonderful day, and it hasn't even started yet!! It brings me to reminisce about past birthdays....

I'm not sure how old I was, but mom and dad were having the usual wonderful birthday party for me. We were clowning around, and I climbed a tree. Moments later, I fell out of said tree. I'm sure I was crying, but my next memory of that moment was that I was lying on the sofa in the living room. My smarty pants cousin reminds me that I was asked, "What did you hit?" (Meaning "what body part is hurting?") I replied, "THE GROUND!" I have never lived that one down.

At another party, or maybe it was the same one, I had a see-saw that I loved. My cousin, who is a year older than me, was a little bigger than me at the time. We were rocking that thing hard when suddenly she hit her end really hard, and I flew through the air and landed across the bar between us. Ouch. Another lovely birthday memory.

Okay, one more. I was 16. We gathered up I'm not even sure how many people and headed to my Grandma's house. Many things are memorable about that day, because it really was loads of fun, but I did hobble around on a sprained ankle all day.

There are three things that really stand out to me about my birthday, other than the painful memories. I ALWAYS had great birthday parties. Mom and Dad were always sure to honor me in some way, and most of the time it involved lots of friends and family. They always, no matter our financial situation, were sure to get me something great for my birthday. They really made me love my birthday.

Another thing is that my Grandmother Birdie always called me on my birthday and sang to me. She had one of those voices that most people would qualify as making a joyful noise, but I'd give anything to hear that voice sing again. When I grew up and had children, Grandmother would call me around 11:00 a.m. because she knew that was a good time for me. The year that she passed away, it was only weeks before my birthday. On my birthday, my phone rang at 11:00 a.m. There was no one on the other end. I held on to that phone for the longest time, just longing to hear her voice one more time. I'm not sure why my phone rang that day, but I sure did feel like it was God's way of saying that Grandmother was thinking of me on my birthday.

Finally, I was born on Mammaw's birthday. This is my Grandmother Ghent. She said the day I was born, my grandfather went out and bought her a beautiful gold wedding band. She has told me that she will give that to me someday. While that will be so special, I sure hope it's a long time before I get that ring. The saddest thing to me today is that I can't see her. You see, she lives in another town and I'm working. I know all of that is hard to avoid, but it just doesn't seem fair. If it were really up to me, I would have dropped my girls off at school, stopped to buy some beautiful flowers, and headed straight to her house to take her out to lunch. My birthday wish would be to spend the day with her. My fear is that we will run out of those birthdays together one day, and I'm going to wish I took that day to do just what I said. I'll call her, and I'll hear her voice, and we will have to spend time together another day.

Anyway, happy birthday to me, and happy birthday to Mammaw. And God, if you want to make my phone ring at 11:00 a.m., that sure would be cool.

Where did it go?

"Time marches on." I'm not sure where that quote comes from, but I tend to lean more toward, "Time flies." When we're growing up, we hear that we are growing up so fast. When we have young children, we hear that we should enjoy every moment because it passes in an instant. Guess what? All true.

Tomorrow I will be 41 years old. Uggh... Just to say it just doesn't feel right. Next month, my oldest daughter will graduate from high school. Uggh again... Unbelievable. My "middle" daughter will start high school in just a few months. Are you kidding me? Where did time go?

Several months ago, we visited a college campus as we were considering where my oldest would pursue her education after graduation. I sat in that auditorium and felt like I was in another world. Did I not just do this for myself? Am I not the one who should be going to college? Holy cow. Where did time go? Now I find myself putting my daughter on an airplane with her boyfriend's mom to spend a weekend visiting him in Chicago, and I suddenly think, "Oh my... At some point she will just want to stay there." (I mean, she already does, but someday she will more than likely just stay there.) He's wonderful, and that will be great when it's time, but where did MY time go? I feel like everyone is slipping away...

I'm very proud of my children. I know that my job is to train them up in the way they should go. I know that God will lead them into whatever He has for them, and I am positive He will watch over them always. I'm just left wondering if I spend enough time doing the important things. I think I do, but when they are all grown up and I'm gone, will they remember that? Geez, I hate to get all serious, but it's on my heart today.

Jordan will soon be 18. She will graduate, go on to college, and eventually marry the man that God has prepared for her. (And I'm pretty certain we already know that guy.) They will pursue a life together and someday have children of their own, possibly asking the same questions that I find myself asking now. "Where did time go?" "Am I doing enough?"

Lauren, Cassie, and Kylie will go through the same motions I'm sure. They will complete their educations and move into the life God has for them. I imagine it will be at that time that I will sit and think the most. Have I done what I needed to do up to this point? Of course, part of me wants to interject at this time that if I haven't, darnit I'm too tired to do more anyway. I will tell my children to enjoy every moment, that time goes way too fast, and that they should savor every day of their life no matter what it may bring. I doubt they will take it to heart though, because I didn't, but life will someday show them that time really does fly.

Party with the Peeps!

As I said in my previous post, I am always up for a trip. Something I never have been a fan of however is parties. Yep, I said it. I was a party hater. I didn't like having parties and I didn't want to go to parties. Don't even get me started on "showers". Wedding showers, baby showers, please don't make me go!!! I know, I know, you want to know why?!

At wedding showers, you watch the bride open, over and over again, crap that she will never use in her life as she pretends to love every bit of it. Formal china, formal glasswear, formal silverwear, formal schmormal! All of that stuff merely clutters up a china cabinet which clutters up a dining room, and it leaves you feeling obligated to use it occasionally because it just cost everyone so dang much. 2 toasters, 3 crockpots, 4 sets of rubbermaid, and a partridge in a pear tree. All useless.

At baby showers, once again we gather around to watch the cute little mom to be open gifts. Some she will open and have no clue what to do with. (The blue bulbous "booger sucker" as we called it... Who knew you'd have to do THAT?) Other things that are opened we just "ooh and ahh" over, and the mother-to-be coos over how cute it is. (While in the back of my mind I think, "That ruffle is going to irritate that baby to death... They think that will STAY white?") I'm sure I'll change my mind when I'm watching one of my four daughters open those gifts, but it all sure has been painful for me so far.

Parties for me in the past have involved being with people I barely know or don't care to know, talking about things that I don't even care about, wearing things that I hate, and listening to stories that would bore me nearly to tears. I've forced myself to laugh at things I didn't think were anywhere near funny, and I've maintained eye contact with people during stories to the point that I should be given an Academy Award. I've sat drinking my Diet Coke while watching idiots around me become bigger idiots, drinking God knows what. Okay, so you get the picture. I've always hated parties.

Well, darn it, I have been partying with the wrong people! I have these friends now, the Varners, who throw the best darn parties this side of the moon. Okay, that's my opinion, but if you can win me to a party, it's a really good one. They have this wonderfully beautiful home that is just super conducive to parties. As my husband has said, their home is like being at our second home. They set up the tables, let us lay out all the food and drinks, and they enjoy it all with us without stressing over how 50 people are milling about in their yard somewhere. That sure takes a special spirit. The latest blowout was a luau this past weekend, and I saw pictures from the party this morning. You know what stood out to me? In every single picture, everyone there was either laughing or smiling, and it wasn't any of that phony, award winning stuff. We genuinely have fun when we are all together. Whether we were sitting around talking while the kids swam, yep, swam in April, or we were learning to shag from one of our good friends (who happens to be our associate pastor), we were happy and enjoying ourselves. No drama, no stress, no craziness, no drinking, no cussing, no stupidity (but a LOT of silliness), just good old, downhome, family fun.

I have the best friends in the whole wide world. They have led me to a new place in my life. They helped me get over my hate of parties. I think they just happen to know what a party is really supposed to be. Now that I look back on it, I think that before I was just attending social gatherings. Now, I really know how to party....

Just don't make me go to a shower.

Trippin'

My two youngest girls left this morning with their 3rd grade classes to go on a field trip to Columbia. I felt so weird as I dropped them off, because I do love me some field trips. There was a time in my life that if my kids were going on a field trip, I was THAT mom. I wanted to be there right in the midst of them, and I sure did enjoy those days.

With my oldest daughter, my favorite field trip memory is when we went to Charleston. We went with the school group, and I was in charge of a group of spirited, yet not very bright, 4th grade girls. Two funny thing stand out to me about that trip. Now take it, we live only a couple of hours from Charleston. That night, as we settled into our motel room, one of the girls called her mom. The end of the conversation I could hear went something like this... "Hey mama..... Yes... I miss you too.... it's so much fun here, and pretty too... Mama, it's 9 o'clock here. What time is it there?" Yep, for the love of all that is holy, she asked that. I suddenly had to go to the bathroom and laugh my butt off. Not the sharpest spoon in the drawer, huh?

The next thing about that trip is how I wanted to liven up what seemed to be a boring visit to a retired naval vessel there in the harbor. The girls were complaining, tired, and just plain done with the whole thing when we entered this "special" hallway. There were windows along the hallway that were motion sensored, and when you walked by it would tell you an interesting fact. I called the girls back to the beginning of the hallway, excited about this bright idea I had. "Okay girls. Here's what we're going to do.... We are going to count to three and run as hard as we can down this hall and make all of these things talk at the same time! One, two, three!" Screaming and running, we flew through the hallway to the other end, and as I burst out of the door, I heard a teacher saying, "What in the??" before she realized.... I was a grown up. Oops. They never asked me to go anywhere again, but that sure was fun.

Another wonderful field trip memory that I have is also Charleston, and it's with my next oldest daughter. She is what I would call my middle child, being stuck between my oldest and the twins. I hate to stereotype her, but she does have that sweet, calm, peacemaker spirit of the typical middle child. Our trip to Charleston was taken without her class, but we did go with another mother and daughter. We went at the same time as her class, but we made our schedule so that we wouldn't be caught in the crowd of students. That was, in my memory, one of the most relaxing trips I have ever taken, even though the other little girl with us was quite unhappy the entire time. I just remember how wonderful it was to have time with just Lauren, and I remember how beautiful her little smiling face looked when she was gazing out over the harbour. It was like our bond doubled during those two days, at least to me, and her sweet spirit just touched me and calmed me. No crazy running or dumb phone calls. Just peace, relaxation, and enjoyment.

Finally, the greatest trip that I've taken with my twins to this date is to the South Carolina State Fair. They were scheduled to sing there with their honor choir, and I had to take a day off of work to be able to go. It was so totally worth it. Again, I was in charge of a group of 3rd and 4th grade girls. They were such a joy! We were all over that place, and we rode every ride we could get on at least once. One little girl was scared of the ginormous ferris wheel, but with a little encouragement from me she said, "I'll go, but I might throw up." Thank the Lord, she didn't throw up, and we had an amazing, exhausting day!

I could go on all day about trips that I've enjoyed and crazy things I've done. Field trips, day trips, road trips, plane trips, business trips, family trips, mission trips.... I feel more stories coming on!! In fact, I'm trippin' this Summer to West Virginia (MISSION TRIP!!!) and Chicago (visit the Navy boyfriend of my daughter trip!!!) Anyway, if you plan on trippin' and want to take along a little entertainment in case of being bored, or a little calming influence in case it may be stressful, I'm always up for a trip!

It's a Small World After All...

As I found myself, as I do many evenings, on the playground with my youngest two girls, I was once again taken with the sight of them playing "tag" with children of all different nationalities. Immediately, a song popped into my head....

"Jesus love the little children, all the children of the world. Red and yellow, black and white, they are precious in His sight. Jesus loves the little children of the world."

However politically incorrect the "red and yellow, black and white" may be perceived in the 21st century, what a beautiful thought. Sad thing is, we sang it as children while many times being taught prejudice and sometimes even hate. (Fortunately for me, not by my family.) Not that the adults around us really meant to, but we come from a culture that has risen from this prejudice. In reality, the song is so true, and if the God of the universe loves them all, who are we not to?

Many years ago, we were at Disney World with our two oldest daughters, then ages 6 and 9. We got on the boat to ride through "It's a Small World". As we traveled deep into the cavernous, music filled mountain, the animatronic children started singing... "It's a world of laughter, a world of tears. It's a world of hope, and a world of fears. There's so much that we share that it's time we're aware, it's a small world after all." My children, and myself I must admit, were wide eyed as we watched the animated figures and listened to them sing. I turned to the girls and said, "If you will look closely, you will notice that the children singing are dressed differently like they would be all over the world. They are all different colors and look different, yet they are singing the same song together." One of my girls looked up at me and replied, "Just like Heaven, Mama." Yes, honey, just like Heaven.

I had to turn my head that day as the tears were flowing at the realization that it was in fact much like Heaven, but that we were missing something here on Earth. Walt Disney was wise beyond his years at the time he conceived the whole "It's a Small World" idea. I don't think he meant for it to be a simple theme park ride. I like to think that he imagined us riding through, being struck by the truth that we are all in this together, no matter where we live, what color our skin happens to be, or where we've come from. I don't know if he was a man of faith, but I wonder if he envisioned a little piece of Heaven when he created this theme park attraction? Even if he just meant to entertain us, what a great lesson we receive when we think deeply of all that it truly should mean.

"Jesus love the little children. All the children of the world. Red and yellow, black and white, they are precious in His sight. Jesus loves the little children of the world."

Introducing.... ME!!!

I am so excited to be here!!! It has really been a long time coming for me, a writer at heart, and I'm truly not sure what took me so very long. Pouring my thoughts and feelings onto paper is really second nature to me, but I think this very public venue scares me to death! Oh well, I'm not one to let a little intimidation stop me. Could we really live this life if we let a little thing like that hinder our progress?

Let me start with telling you a little about me. I am a wife and have been for nearly 20 years to the man that God sent to me. I am the mother of four beautiful girls, with the two youngest being twins. I work full time as an academic assistant with 5th grade students. I am saved by the blood of Jesus Christ, and my real life's work is to share His love with all of those with whom I come into contact. My family is so important to me, I am fiercely patriotic, and I just enjoy enjoying life!

Now for my blog title... starting with the crumbs. One of my biggest pet peeves is crumbs in the butter. I will write more on that later. Another of my pet peeves, which I will also cover in a later blog, is eggshells left in the sink. My two cents is, well, my two cents. Hopefully this leaves me open to talk about pretty much whatever I feel like when the mood strikes me.

Nice to meet you all, and I look forward to sharing more of life with you, my new friends!