I did it!

It is done! last weekend I gave 17+ inches of hair to Locks of Love. WOW! It was a lot. My hair had grown past my waist line and now it comes to my chin and stops. We went to the cooolest guy in Austin to have it cut and he did it Free! You all know that made me happy. It is called Micheals Hair Co and his Web site is http://www.michaels-hair-co.com/ He did such a great job. He spent a lot of time on me. I have what is called an undercut now and he gave me some styleing with a blow dry. Tim says I am cute as a button I think that is cool.

Grandmommy

Dearest Grandmommy,

You have been a rock in my life. Unchanging and ever present to love and comfort and play. It is with great pride that I call myself one of yours. I couldn't begin to say what you mean to me there wouldn't be enough words to do that. I don't remember a time when you weren't available to be whatever I needed. There was a time that I popped in while you were getting your hair done, Friday morning, I knew as soon as I walked up I hadn't been thinking. But if I remember correctly, you bought me Taco Bell that day when I came back.

Even when you were working I remember sitting at the pick-nik table with scrap slip and cookie cutters making Christmas ornaments that still hang on my tree. You would threaten a knot on our heads for various reasons but I don't know of one of us that ever got one. What a treat it was when we got to glaze in more than one color. What a tragedy when one broke, which often was the case. We would walk over with hundreds of little tiny pieces in our hands and what seemed like an impossible task; only to return to see our treasure beautifully reconstructed so well you could hardly see the lines. I still have pieces that didn't quite get all the chips retrieved from the crash site but whole they are with evidence of your patience and understanding.

I remember the joy that came after the house burned because we got to spend the whole week at Grandmommy's house. "This is gonna be just like vacation" I thought as I compared it to going to Austin. We spent the week stealing Grandaddy's chair, playing ride the horse-y, and woops-she-got-away while you sat and crocheted or quilted. It met every expectation I had. I learned to crochet at your house. If I remember correctly I crocheted one piece that started out a purse, then a hat, no maybe some house shoes and ended up a doll blanket. Now I use that skill in ministry, and quilt oddly spaced stitches on a project that I probably won't finish in this century.

Every year I think back on how precious those memories are as I dress the bed in Grandmommy's beautiful Christmas quilt. Christmas at Grandmommy's always meant waiting on cameras, followed by literally swimming through wrapping paper. I hated to watch it being picked up. I think of you every season as I change out the throws you've given that lay on the back of the rocker that was yours as well. I remember cutting flowers in your back yard to give to teachers at Bowie. We would get up early and pick the prettiest ones, and you would cut them all, leaving your bushes and beds bare, as we marched to school so proud with your glory. We would come over Saturday's and mow the lawn. Wow, you got a deal! Even in the 80's. But we got Ice Cream, (and pink cookies) so I guess that evened us out a bit. Your house was the place to stop after shopping on that side of town to get a coke and a rest (and pink cookies). I remember when I began to drive, I was able to stop by on my own. I would plan my route in order to take a "facilities" break at Grandmommy's.

While I was sick you washed my hair for the last time. It was in the kitchen sink, that weekend it was put in a braid for the last time. Your house was the quarantine from the flu, I missed "the fam" but what peaceful fun it was, especially to have someone in the house with me all the time. You will certainly remember Houston during radiation; I am still amazed that I didn't give Grandaddy another heart attack when I drove your car. When it was almost over, you came and cleaned my room. It had gotten so out of hand during radiation and hospital stays, I didn't know where to start. You came in and worked diligently and quietly until it was finished, far after I pooped out. That was so precious to me. You were the one when you offered help I knew it was real and sincere, so I was never afraid to take it.

I remember bringing Tim home and explaining Sunday lunch at Grandmommy's. He had no idea. I asked him what he remembered and he told of the first time he went to lunch. How everyone was finished as he reached for seconds, and then thirds, and I said to him "there's dessert." I still remember the look on his face as his eyes got wide and he looked up with his mouth half full, questioning "Dessert?!" I feel certain you remember the same face when you allowed him guardianship over Buddy's camera. With it he has taken countless pictures that will soon stock his blooming photography business. He also remembers how much you took care of him while we lived in Abilene. You were the calm in a storm at that time, especially for Tim.

Your house has always been that; a calm in the storm. It seems that no matter what problems, struggles, or stress I may come to you with, it all just seems to melt away whenever I walk the stepping stones to the door. I know where ever I may be that you are always available with a recipe, a hint from Helloise, or yet another aloe vera plant. One of these days I will keep one of those alive. For us, time stops for a while at Grandmommy's, and all that presses in on us is blocked by the rock of your timeless love and understanding.

This is but a scrap of what you have been in my life. You and Grandaddy have taught me much, I couldn't begin write the legacy you continue to leave in me; it exists in ideals, morals, and graciousness. God has blessed my life with you. I can only hope that my life and my home will someday be for someone, what yours has been for me.

With all my love,
Emily

It's My Birthday!

Yesterday was "that day" for me. The day when most people stop counting how old they are with numbers and begin the word problems. For example:
Emily is celebrating the first anniversary of the day she turned 29. How old is Emily
-or-
the 9th anniversary of her 21st.
-or-
The ratio of life lived to life left is <1/3

The posiblities are endless. I don't think this will be my course of action. Word problems confuse me anyway. I have been surprized how it has all hit, 2 months ago I got really excited, I began answering the "how old are you" question with "Almost 30!" Then this week as I told Tim he was approching his last chance to make out with a girl in her twenty's, I began to ponder 30 more like the way normal people do "am I losing my youth?"

Embracing age has never been a problem for me. There were too many Dr's and such that said I wouldn't have any age to embrace. So I suppose it is that part of me that sits here the day after and thinks of a word problem that goes more like this:

Emily is 1/3 of the way to 90yrs. She has learned in that 1/3, more than she could hope to learn in the next 2/3, She has accomplished less inthat 1/3, than she will by default accomplish in the next 2/3, And she is growing closer to her home with each passing day.

So what I am looking forward to in the next 2/3 (pending of course that I have 2/3 left)?

I am looking forward to learning the Spirit's path. Especialy how to listen to it, and follow with blind faith. I am looking forward to learning love. How to love, and how to accept love. How to recognize love from others when it does not look the way mine would. How to give love to others who do not love the way I do. All, I think are quite lofty goals for 60 yrs.

Mostly however, I look forward to Tim. I have 1/3 (roughly) of my 30 years with my beloved Tim. I already can't tell where he stops and I start, I don't remember a time without him and I have only known him 1/3 of my life, yet I learn more about him every day. I am looking forward to turning that ratio on it's head. so ask me what it's like on my 60th birthday when I will have only spent 1/3 of my life without him. God grows us closer every day, that, I am very much looking forward to

So, 30 feels good. It is, at least for me, one of those default accomplishments I could have never made at 29 no matter how hard I tried.

How Do I look?

So I was talking with a newly married friend the other day about "How do I look?" She has not been married long enough to know to steer away from such a question. Why? Because any God fearing man in his right mind is actually going to answer the question. Most of the time we ask this question after searching and searching through our closet to find just one thing suitable to the event and we know it is the only thing left to leave any kind of dignity intact. So we get dressed and ask our poor unsuspecting husbands "How do I look?" Tim and I have this worked out, I tell him exactly what I want to hear and he is glad to oblige "Tell me I'm beautiful." I can say at any time and he will respond with enthusiasm "You're beautiful." Most times he even steps it up a notch to "You're gorgeous." or "you're the most beautiful woman in the world." I Love it! I know it may seem lame to others but I don't have unrealistic expectations for him to read my mind and it works well. I have had people tell me it isn't the same if they have to ask. But if it is important it is worth asking for.

Men at Work

It's a funny thing, Men at work. Right now we are having our sewer re routed. Exciting, I know, but it is something we have been needing to do for about two years now. Although I am glad to get it done I feel trapped. Yep, that's it just trapped. OK trapped and a little anxious. We usually tackle enormous projects like this, by ourselves, with no help, no experience and no knowledge of what we're doing. So to leave it up to the professionals just makes me nervous. We considered tackling this by ourselves. Anyone can dig a hole, right? We have friends with machinery.

Today, I will sit and "supervise" (from the front bedroom) until I can no longer go to the bathroom then I will leave, but I will still feel anxious... and trapped. I will feel like I have to get back home because I am the homeowner and I have to make any unforseen decisions. That's the man's job. Yes this was supposed to be done last week when the man was home. Today is his first day back at his real job. If it wasn't for those people with the slab leaks it would have been done last Thursday, darn plumbing emergencies. So I find myself opening blinds to look out and wondering what it's like out there, and trapped. Probably not nearly so much as the dog however. They are doing exactly what Nestle has dreamed of her whole life: Digging up the entire back yard! And she can't help or watch or study technique, or go potty, or leave. So I suppose I have a cell mate.

Tonight the project will be completed and waiting for inspection. Tomorrow the long deep hole will be filled in and the plumbers will take an enormous amount of money from me. All that will be left is figuring out a way to keep Nestle from digging it up again. Why aren't there professionals for that?

Rock and a hard place

It's the proverbial rock and hard place. I must say, if I would learn to keep my mouth shut I wouldn't have nearly so much to concern myself with.

Thus the rock:
I was at a staff meeting and my boss asks "So what do ya'll think about E-tools" the room becomes a buzz with "I love ... It's great when ... My members just adore ... " and me totally in awe of the whole situation. You really must understand you can hardly navigate this web site, even entering a search is abnormal. So (keep in mind she asked what we thought) I said "I just plain don't like it" figuring there would be at least one other person that would feel the same way. There wasn't, and I got the idea immediately that she really didn't want to know what we thought. She proceeded to go into how we are going to be expected to push this part of the program and we all need to get more familiar with E-tools.

So, the hard place:
I get an email from my boss that there will be a contest to see who can locate 14 things on this medieval site and if your correct you will be in a prize drawing. Now this is not mandatory thank goodness but I try it out any way to make a few brownie points. After an hour and a half of 3 questions I was done. Now I hate the stupid E-tools even more! I don't think this was the desired result. I couldn't help but think that growing my disinterest into hatred was not a good idea. But I opened my mouth at staff meeting. Am I vane or will my boss be watching and waiting to see if I (me specifically) did the exercise or not?

So here is my miff with the whole thing:
Too many people ask questions that they don't really want the answer to. Are we afraid of the truth or do we not prepare for it. Are we just naive and think that every one thinks exactly the same way we do. When will I learn all the canned answers for all the stupid questions people really don't want answers to.

The Bills

Ahhh yes it is time for everyones favorite task, the bills. I wonder sometimes how much we cripple ourselves by making things easier. We have a debit card so we don't have to write checks, automatic withdrawls and automatic deposits, a computer to keep up with transactions, balance, and let us know when things are comming due, and I still manage to spend hours doing the bills each month. It seems that no matter how much you have going for you, it still comes down to the pencil and paper. Debits vs. Credits. Bottom line, one mistake and it's the end of the world as we know it. Why is it that such a simple thing becomes an insurmountable task just by the bank putting things in a diferent order than you do. I hearby make a proclomation that in the evolution of this new cashless society we seem to be falling into, the bank needs to come to me to get a balance! All in favor?

My baby sister's baby girl

This is my new niece in her loving parents arms. Tim composed, took, and edited the picture. It has been so great to see him doing what he loves so much again. It was a fun time. Rachel is certainly not camera shy (that is definitely inherited).

Rachel (the baby), has been born into an estrogen thirsty generation of our family. As the first female child born from any of four siblings, all girls, she has a lot to live up to. At least there will be many things to expect. For example: she will always have the attention of everyone in the room; she will be able to con her Daddy into many things he never planned; she won't be allowed to date before thirty (in fact her parents will strongly consider an all girls school); she will be referred to as "princess' for the majority of her life; and she will never be in need of anything pink. Not really a bad life to look forward to. I know that God has many blessings for her. May He pour them out unceasingly!

Welcome to the world, baby girl.

Just for Rebecca

I am so glad I have a great friend like you to troubleshoot my blog wilth.

Parking in the Lot

Neat story happened the other day. I was doing my normal Tuesday afternoon deliveries for Threads of Love. I usually check in the church office to see who we have in the Hospital and do a little visiting while I am at the hospital. If I have visits to make, I park in the lot; but if not I park in a delivery space. This day I had forgotten to check the office board and was contemplating, "It would be really easy to just deliver and be gone today. But I would hate to miss someone I know. I'll just park and call when I get in; the 1/2 mile walk would do me good anyway." Lo and behold there was no one in the hospital that day so I began the reverse 1/2 mile back to the lot thinking to myself, "I could have parked up front and been gone right away." as a lady walked briskly toward me and asked,
"Do you have a light?" I looked up to see a rail of a woman looking desperately back at me. She was thin, very thin, her clothes probably children's size hung on her. She had disheveled hair, and only one whole tooth in front, black with decay; the others looked as if they had been filed off slowly by cavities that were still there. In her hand she held in her hand a cigarette.
My mind began to spark with thoughts like "Lady, the last thing you need is a light" and "I'm not going to help you kill yourself" the spirit calmed me enough to rationalize "She is at a Hospital and probably stressed out, now is not the time to tackle her short falls" So I looked back apologetically and answered,
"I'm sorry I don't" I turned, now truly remorseful, that I couldn't help her out; or could I? "Hey, I've got one in my car" I called as I saw a relief sweep across her face "come with me." I began some small talk, "Why are you up here today?"
"My son" she said "he has appendicitis. They said it wasn't and then his Dr in Gatesville, that's where we's from, Gatesville, said he[Dr] thought it was[appendicitis], and we needed to come here[Scott and White], so we got here, and they said it wasn't[appendicitis], it was just bowels you know, like he had to go to the bathroom or somethin' and now they're[S&W] sayin' it is appendicitis and he[son] is gonna have surgery in an hour or so"
"Wow, Well I'm glad they are finally getting things taken care of"
"Yea, me to, I feel like we're at least gettin' somewhere now"
She expressed a few more details while we waited. and I gave my coveted lighter. After she lit I asked, "Do you mind if I pray with you for your son?"
"No, tha'd be great!" she responded. I held out my hand and she went to put her cigarette down
"It's OK God knows you smoke" We had a laugh as I began to pray. I could hear her take long steady drags as I prayed for God's mercy, and for his will. I talked of how we know that He knows the pain of mothers for their children because of his Son, yet, how that doesn't make it easier on this side of things. I finished with a blessing and call for God's will above ours as I squeezed her hand and let go. She thanked me sincerely and I felt a desire to have something else I could do for her, in hind site, a desire to stay with her longer. I gave her my phone number and name and assured her if she needed anything I could hook her up. Then I watched as she began her hike back to the building.
It was fun to tell the story to Tim and to my friends that night. I expressed how I really hoped she'd call with something I could do, how I felt an emptiness inside that all I had done was pray and yet I felt like I didn't let an opportunity go by, that God really used me. I felt like God had encouraged me to park in the parking lot!
A few days later I got a call. It turns out the boys appendix had already ruptured by the time they did the surgery, but he was doing just fine. What's more, God was working with her husband at the very same time he was putting us together. You see she didn't have a lighter because her husband had gone back to Gatesville to shower and get back for the surgery and on his way he helped a man that was broken down on the side of the road. I don't know what went on from there, but she said that when they saw each other the dialogue was something like
"I gotta tell you somethin'"
"No, I gotta tell you somethin'"
"It's just like you said" she told me "He takes care of all of us"

I don't think I will park by the building anymore and I think I will always have a light