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Posts Tagged ‘Family’

Harry Edenfield, a Christian author, offers a thought-provoking daily devotional for this season of Lent.

Today’s verse is from Genesis 19:16: “But Lot lingered. So the angels seized him and his wife and his two daughters by the hand, the Lord being merciful to him, and they brought him out and set him outside the city.”

Edenfield reflects, “Lord God, your servant Lot lingered in Sodom. Sometimes I love my chosen place too much. You urge me to leave my sin spot.

I linger.

I linger even if it may be injurious to my loved ones. Remember me: I, too, need an escort from the magnet of sin.

As we leave together, Holy Spirit, urge me to have no regret about the exit from sin. Urge me not to look back.”

Amen.

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Glimpses into our day…

Local farmers’ take on Santa, a combo of hay bales and spray paint on the side of the road.

One of the stores we purchased presents from, had this sign. Although this sign may well have been posted also at our local Victoria’s Secret, where they locked us out after opening time and otherwise shunned shoppers, quelle horreur!

Thank you, aunts and uncles, for sending us all manner of healthy Stuff! The cheeses are going into my unnoticed 14 cheese mac&cheese on Christmas.

This is what it looks like lining up Stuff for each of 4 kids’ stockings on Christmas Eve, lay it all out! Are your stockings too heavy to be hung by the fireplace with care?

Present-wrapping

One elder son will tickle the ivories on Christmas and regale us with his talent, another son who envied his older brother’s talent, will receive piano lessons for a Christmas present and will enhance his current musical talents.

Christmas Eve

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In the last installment, Subtropical storm Alberto was about to impose on my world. Perhaps the main twisted part had to do with the media coverage elsewhere (for ratings’ sake) than what actually was the case here.

The good news was it provided some great surf for the local surfer fanatics who don’t have the luxury of living in Australia or Hawaii. And that my kid’s skull wasn’t impacted. The bad news came home this morning:

No worries, we were able to save the ankle tether and this was just a backup surf board.

Now we’re just waiting for a “real” storm.

I don’t think I’ve introduced you to Donut the therapy dog yet….Santa brought him at Christmas to our house from a very special place across the country, for our special needs kids:

(when in my lap, he doubles as Toonces the Driving Dog)

He is decked out for Memorial Day.

God bless all who sacrificed their lives for ouR freedom….

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…pulled into the driveway of the nice neighbor up the road to get some Satsuma oranges (cross between mandarins and tangerines). Funneled $5 in jug and grabbed bag top-middle and used shredder at home to make orange zest to throw into cranberry sauce the second it came off the stove…

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Captured this sunset on the commute home, because there was a 2-car accident on the sure-fire alternate route to avoid holiday traffic, and another couple of smash-ups on every other viable route home. God bless the slow-n-steady…I got home safely and savored the colors in the sky in the process:

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Came home to this sight…. (friends, study the spud)

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Yes, I have a jar of shells (or fifteen) around the house, including on the kitchen counter. I have never, however, had an army guy sticking out of a potato greeting me upon walking in the door. This was a first. I noticed the children parked the army-guy-in-potato near some of my cookbooks (which I rarely use). I believe they were trying to tell me something which I shall analyze tomorrow, probably and unfortunately after the fact. In the meantime, I will take the hint that there may be heavy combat in my kitchen between now and Black Friday.

In other accomplishments today, I:

~Reassured a young child why his mother’s cancelling his home pass for the Thanksgiving weekend due to his not-that-negative-behavior days before (even though he did his level best for a whole day prior) and her perception of inconvenience was justified…have a heart, ma!

~Reassured a set a parents why their child’s insistence that they did not want to go home for Thanksgiving because they can’t stand the fighting between Mom & Dad, was justified…knock it off already, y’all.

~Tried to help a 9 year old understand why he could not go home just for one day for Thanksgiving because his mother preferred to have men with meth over for Thanksgiving instead of complying with Child Services’ request that she attend family therapy so that the child might come home for a home pass…and we wonder why the world is going the way it is?!

~Explained to an 8 year old why Mommy was more interested in preventing domestic violence by going by boyfriend’s wishes to have her all to himself instead of 8 year old coming home even for a few hours on Thanksgiving…put ‘cher big-boy-boxers on, dude. Really.

~Comforted a seven-year-old about why Mommy can’t be with him because she has to work the ‘hood selling her body instead of being with him tomorrow. No comment.

God bless the owner of the bowling alley who offered these children a discount diversion for the day of Thanksgiving, and the owner of the skating rink who opened his business and heart to them the day after Thanksgiving, just cuz.

And the only reason I can’t take them all in myself is because it would be a gosh-darned ethical “conflict of interest,” and besides, my mother with Alzheimer’s is spending the day – and she’s mad as a freshly-uprooted fire ant right now right now because as POA I stand between her and her every dime she wants to give to every unscrupulous charity which hits her up at every opportunity by mail and phone. If only I could bring home the kids and feed them all and let them play on our Wii and pick out their favorite shells and stuff, Grandma would be amply diverted and fulfilled in the giving of her time and energy, and we’d have a big ol’ time.

Somehow I fantasize were HIPAA and privacy laws not such a barrier, everyone would get their physical and emotional needs met and be provided for, just fine thank you very much, the down-home way.

Kind of like the Honor Jug above.

Thanks, God, for the ways You help even when we feel helpless, for the ways You move in the lives of others that we can’t see in our finite glimpses. Thank You for making everything right when things can seem so wrong. Thank You, Lord, for the ways You meet the needs of those who are the neediest in Your eyes, not ours. Thanks, God, for teaching us to give thanks for all things, even those we can’t fathom.
God, thank You for meeting the needs of the dear friends here, too, needs which may be overshadowed by man’s perception and definition of “needs.” Thank You for loving us all as we are in our various stages of need, and for cutting through all the red tape we put between You and us. Thanks for knowing our hearts, even so…

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Pierhenge

 

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Play Ball!

Nothing says “welcome to spring!” quite like Opening Day for Little League, especially on Daylight Savings weekend.  Today we were blessed with playing the very first game at 0830 sharp. While we clutched our toasty tumblers of coffee in the crisp, early morning air, we also got first dibs on parking, seating, concessions, and even the sun. By the third inning, sweatshirts were being peeled off and slung on the backs of chairs, and coffee gave way to cool Co-cola.

Like any other American rite, opening day is full of things that make a community home. Old and new friends, old and new memories, old and new experiences. The actual game of baseball is core, of course, but it’s about way more than that. The sights, sounds and smells of opening day are woven into our minds and hearts, and then into the greater tapestry of community.

Our eight year old bit his lip with fond anticipation as we approached his field. There in front of us was something different from what he’d practiced on the past month. Seeing it anew, the field was a rich green surrounded by red clay dirt, outlined perfectly with bright white chalk, punctuated by brand, spanking new bases. It was almost a shame to see it mussed up by the first few players, but even after the game, it bravely clung to its dignity:

Home Plate

Most ball parks have sponsors’ banners lining the fence with names of businesses most people recognize. What makes this home is our backdrop of banners which advertise businesses unique to what we call home: maritime services, offshore deep-sea fishing charters, local resorts, and the always-practical hurricane shutter business. And this year a new one, an in-memory-of banner in honor of two beloved members of our community who perished at sea last year while out fishing one day.

It’s hard to beat the smell of freshly cut grass, but I think this one had it beat: The aroma of the giant grill cooking fresh hamburgers and hot dogs, which wafted all over the park and was carried aloft by the salty breeze off the nearby beaches:

Da Big Grill

The auditory hodgepodge was a mix of sizzling meat, the crack of the bat, and the occasional errant seagull crying when he realized he’d been duped, that the airborne baseball is not bread. You also hear lots of applause and encouragement. In the South, you won’t hear direct instructions being given to the little men in uniform, like, “Run hard, guys, RUN!” No, this morning’s sideline shrieks were more along the lines of, “UNHOOK THE U-HAUL, Y’ALL!” The names on the backs of the jerseys were not your standard names, either – here it is common for the names to start with a La-something or a Du-something, or end in -eaux. Or all of the above. The French roots live on.

Other savory sights included seeing the first slushies served of the season, with children running amok with berry-blue lips which extended ear to ear; swatting the first horse fly of the season; hearing many of the teams pray together before they hit the field; and little monkeys in precious smocking, hanging off the lower limbs of the giant, old oak tree which shades a strategically placed picnic table, suitable for reaching that lowest branch. How many monkeys can you count? One, two, three, four…no, there were at least eight children playing in the tree.

No one cracked their coconut open falling out of the tree, and no one filed any lawsuits against the park citing it as a liability. Yes, this is the park you can spank your unruly toddler in public while the other parents look on with approval. Heck, this is the park where other parents parent each others’ children. Raising our future is a community effort, especially on opening day when things can be a little hectic. I was overseeing the concession line at one point, ensuring nobody cut:

Concession Line

And nobody did.

I think about the only thing missing was some good ol’ American apple pie. A la mode. This should be a staple at every ball park, right along with peanuts and sunflower seeds. Now there’s a potential business! Speaking of which, I am looking forward to the rest of the season and perfecting my sunflower-seed-husk-spitting skills. (But only when the other moms aren’t watching).

What tells YOU that you’ve sprung forward into spring?

Thanks, God, for baseball and boys and bbq and bats and balls. Thanks for cultural pastimes and community fellowship. And thanks for helping our boys unhook their U-Hauls and pull ahead to win at the last nail-biting second. Yeeee-haaaw! Er, I mean, amen.

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Now that the afterglow of completing my fifth half-marathon has worn off and feeling has been restored in my lower extremities, I thought I would share some observations and recommendations for those of you contemplating taking on a long-distance race. These issues seem to crop up in every race I’ve run, from the take-it-easy Turkey Trot 5K all the way up to the monster marathons.

And if you’re an *amateur like me, you don’t hang with the diehards in your local road runners club so you might never think or hear about some of these things until you’re (%*&%$#) in the middle of your first race. So after more than a decade of running behind other people in these races, here are some tips you might find helpful:

(*Disclaimer: Emphasis on amateur. I am probably omitting something critical. Experienced runners, do not laugh – you had to learn all this at one point, too!)

1.) TRAIN: This goes without saying, but I’m gonna say it anyway. I cannot tell you how many people sign up for these races (usually children and macho businessmen who have something to prove) and mistakenly believe they don’t need to practice beforehand. There are those who don’t train and take off like jackrabbits when the pistol goes off, only to wind up on the side of the road a mile or three ahead, rubbing their cramped calves. Then there are those who think they’ve trained, but misjudge the effects of distance and time on one’s body. Get a book, research online, find a training/pacing guide and follow it for the length of race you plan to run. And don’t wait until the week before to go your longest distance – that’s the week you should be resting and/or doing short maintenance runs and mentally revving up. Even though you may be doing it for fun, it’s only fun if your body and mind are prepared.

2.) PLAN LOGISTICS AHEAD OF TIME: Something has failed me in every race, usually something very small and annoying with long-lasting negative effects. Kind of like trying to put  up with a pebble in your shoe that you don’t want to stop to remove.

*What do you need to carry? How will you carry it? Keep it simple. Just the necessities, with identifying and emergency information scrawled on the back of your race bib, at the very least. I can’t tell you how many cell phones I stooped to bend over in last week’s race, because the owners were oblivious to the phones bouncing out of pockets, falling off of clips, etc. I think the smartest arrangement that caught my eye (and just as quickly averted my eye) was a gal I first thought had undergone surgery for breast cancer. No, it was her phone tucked into her bra. Me? I like a tiny fanny pack on long races, enough to fit my phone, ID in case I keel over, my emergency inhaler (yes, running increases lung capacity, I’ve found) and my car key (singular – less is more). On short races (5 or 10Ks) I just have my iPod and keys. Period. And don’t forget the sunglasses.

(And another thang: I’m old enough that on my first long race, I packed a bigger fanny pack with my Sony Walkman and (yesindeedybob) cassette tapes, like prehistoric Madonna and Michael Jackson. That was back in the days of bag phones, kiddos, so there was no phone to carry, no GPS, no nuttin’. Whoa. Oh, and I threw in my unreliable and inaccurate pedometer. Apps in those days were handheld and manual.)

*iPod or other musical device, if you are in need of musical motivation, like most race participants…download good, positive music that you know will carry you through. I went through my playlist the day before the race, but during the race I discovered one song I should have deleted: “The Road to Nowhere” by the Talking Heads had an upbeat enough tempo, but the lyrics made me slow my pace a little – not the most motivational song. And by gosh, make sure whatever electronic device you carry is charged.

*Clip your nails. Toenails, that is. Admittedly disgusting topic but lemme tell ya, one nail that’s ever so slightly not completely trimmed is going to jam into your shoe with each step of the race. Try this on a 26.2, and you’ll wind up with a black toe and months of black nail. And a much slower finish time. See? I told ya these aren’t things you’d normally hear about. Keep ’em short. And ladies, thank the Lord for nail polish.

So what failed me this race? My last fanny pack broke and I waited until a quarter till closing to remember that I needed to see if the new cycle/triathlon shop in town carried any. They did, but it had a water bottle holder I didn’t need (there are plenty of drink stations along the route), making it larger than I bargained for. So I took the bottle out and used the round space to roll up my Ace bandage in case I needed it for my sometimes-annoying knee, and stored my sunglasses inside of the bandage so they wouldn’t fly out when I didn’t need them. The fanny pack worked great until I noticed after the race that the damned strap left a black smudge around my light-pink tank top. Nice.

3.) PLAN ON SOME SPONTANEITY: Anything unforeseen can lend itself to an adrenaline rush. Rain and other elements can be a good thing (pretend you’re in a movie). A song on your iPod you didn’t expect. Wear something nobody else expects. Surprise yourself. Find things along the route that give you motivation (see caption to last picture at bottom of post). Give others a pleasant or humorous distraction, like this runner:

This guy had a papoose-like cut-out baby in his backpack...

4. REMEMBER: Where you park…there is nothing worse than hobbling off after a race and forgetting which side street you eventually managed to find a space to park on, which typically is a mini-marathon-length itself away from the start and finish lines. Major drag. This year I wised up and texted my husband this info before the race, since I knew I probably wouldn’t have my wits about me till well after the race. And one’s mind is still racing long after the finish line, so all I could fathom was my car was near the corner of Whatzit and WhoHaa. Surely I raised eyebrows with the runners parking nearby when I zipped into a handicapped spot, slapped up my placard, and jumped out of the car alone in my race gear and bib prominently displayed. I knew I needed the spot because my handicapped child, who’d meet me at the finish line, would be riding home with me after the race. Judge not, y’all.

5.) DITCH THE FRAGRANCES: Okay, you offenders know who you are. You are doing no one any favors, especially us asthmatics who are already oxygen-challenged. You are clogging up the airspace. I would rather smell your body odor. Really. It makes me want to pass you at top-speed. Don’t think you are sparing or impressing anyone. One of these races I’m going to carry a mace-sized can of Lysol to neutralize you. Phewy!

6.) KEEP YOUR SHIRT ON: Please. What’s that, you’re hot and sweaty? Well, me too, After all, I might have liked to go topless, too. Sports bras are jug-jail in my book. But this is a family event, not Mardi Gras in New Orleans. Let’s have some decorum. This gentleman and I played leapfrog throughout the race…I was going to pass him in the last 2 blocks, but he had the decency to put his shirt on just as the dizzying busy-ness of the finish line first came into view 1/4 mile away straight-on…so I held back and let the nice man finish before this middle-aged whippersnapper…

Shirt Up, Dude

Ya gotta have respect for the elderly out there – none of us could say for sure if we’d have what it takes when we’re their age, to do such a thing. I admire these people tremendously!

7.) DON’T PSYCH YOURSELF OUT DURING THE RACE:  There are countless ways to do this, all to your detriment.

*Be realistic, don’t kill yourself – take time for rests/breaks, be happy with whatever time you’re making. Do not compare yourself to the internationally competitive Kenyans or out-of-towners taking the lead who are trying to qualify for the Boston Marathon. If you choose someone to try to keep up with and they leave you in the dust, pick another one. Focus on the goal, not the moment. Conversely, focus on the here-and-now to get through each mile, not on how much farther you have. I know, this is contradictory. This whole thing is more mental than physical, I assure you. At one point you will need far-off goal thoughts, at the next moment you’ll need the here-and-now. Alternate accordingly. Mentally pat yourself on the back with each mile, and with each uninvited thought in between. You are doing this for fun, not practicing for the Olympics. And for Apollo’s sake, you don’t have to actually RUN the whole thing. Alternating running/walking sometimes puts you ahead of the OCD folks who insist on running the whole race, but may not pace themselves and peter out in the latter half.

*DO NOT ignore pain, or you could wind up permanently disabled and you may find yourself helping to finance your orthopaedist’s new yacht. Some pains you can run/walk through and they pass – but some you should not. Pay attention to your body, do what it tells you, baby it when necessary. Drop out if you must. There is no shame whatsoever in exercising sound judgment, wisdom and prudence.

*And lastly, pay no mind to the 70 year olds passing you with “50 States Marathon Club” on the backs of their shirts. They may be bionically altered or very close to living in a wheelchair. You can’t really compare yourself to others in most other areas in life, so don’t try to with perfect strangers during a race, of all places.

I LET them beat me in the race out of respecting my elders...yeah, that's it!

8.) DON’T PSYCH OTHERS OUT DURING THE RACE: Leave plenty of room when you pass someone – you may startle or distract them. Say only positive things and encourage your fellow racers. When you are closing in on the finish chute, don’t dart ahead of others to shave a few seconds off your time. Don’t judge other runners, even in your head – remember there may be some runners with a hidden disability, running in memory/honor of another etc. Resist the temptation to yield to adrenaline’s self-serving tendencies, and humble thyself to your fellow racers. If you must psych out others, make it something interesting to think about or look at without distracting too much.

This couple wore their favorite matching kilts for the race.

9.) BE SAFE: Keep your music low enough that you can hear what is going on around you. I can’t count on one hand how many people were so unaware in this last race, that a motorcycle policeman blaring his siren to move racers from two to one lane, crept up behind and then next to some racers deep in their own world. Be aware of your surroundings – races start early; beware of questionable characters popping out of hidden alleys. Stay in or near a pack of other racers. Stop to help an injured runner get to the curb. Move unexpected debris in the road if you come upon it. Obey the traffic guards and remain in marked race lanes. A shortcut could cost you your life if you meet up with a disoriented driver having to divert due to the race.

10.) BE COURTEOUS: Don’t darken your fellow racers’ doorsteps with these race-wreckers:

*Keep your music in your earbuds. This was a problem in last week’s race – somebody mistakenly assumed her favorite, motivating music – cuss-tainted rap at loud levels – would also be our favorite. Then she’d turn it off before every water station so she didn’t get caught – way to ruin a race, chickie.

*Don’t run/walk with your buddies more than two abreast – this is typically a problem in the first few miles of any race. Clumps of coworkers and flocks of friends can make it race-hell for those behind them. We really don’t want to have to be prisoner to your pace and have to listen to your account of the latest office gossip. Save it for the water cooler on Monday.

*Watch where you spit. I can’t believe I have to address this. That’s right, look first in the direction you’re about to spit, before you spit. Nothing like a loogey landing on your left shoulder because of a misguided mouth missile. Better yet, don’t spit at all. That’s just plain uncouth.

*Likewise, watch where you toss your cup after you leave the relief station. Get to the side, look behind you first (see above), gently toss the remaining liquid into the grass or brush, then put the cup in the provided container, if there is one. If there isn’t, toss your cup where you see the most other cups, to make it easier for the poor volunteer who has to dispose of all the used, slobbery, sweat-covered cups. Most seasoned runners have learned this the hard way (read: unexpected Gatorade shower courtesy of the careless guy ahead who did not think to heed this nugget of advice).

*Greet/thank security, volunteers & police who are stationed at every intersection and safety station. Okay, so maybe it’s not realistic to thank all of them throughout the race, and granted some of them look like they’d rather stand there in their orange vests and dream about going back to bed when they get home (you’re not the only one who arose at the crack of early to make this happen). But hey, when you can, show your appreciation for their efforts to make your race a safe and enjoyable one. It’s not easy to risk life and limb to reroute irate drivers, or manning the drink stations passing out little cups of water and such to sweaty, stinky, mostly-speechless racers.

Thank you, Officer Friendly!

11.) REST WELL AFTERWARDS: Go ahead, pamper yourself: Advil, bananas (to avert cramps), Advil, pasta or favorite replenishing food, Advil, favorite beverages, and if you share your bed with anyone, apologize in advance before you go to sleep for potential Charley-horses which could well result in a swift kick in their netherparts. And, if you can, hit the beach!

12.) THE MORNING AFTER: Put your coffee down before you sit down to drink it. You just might be sore, and basic things like sitting and standing are best done slowly and very deliberately, without a scalding beverage looming nearby. Be careful driving, especially the first time you go from the gas to the brake pedal. And keep pampering yourself. You’ve got bragging rights, now.

P.S: GO AHEAD AND HAM IT UP FOR THE CAMERAS AT THE FINISH LINE…YOU NEVER KNOW IF IT MIGHT BE YOUR LAST ONE!

Best unexpected motivator during the race: Running past the hospital where I was rushed last March for emergency surgery, moments from death. Life's short - Carpe Diem!

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Pie on the Porch

Welcome, friend…and happy Thanksgiving to those in the U.S.

Thanksgiving at the beach is delightful. It was sunny and warm both indoors and out.

You know what the beach looks like, and you know what Thanksgiving fixins look like. So instead I will share other scenes from heeyah today:

At approximately 18,000 pounds each, these cotton modules are worth about $17K apiece.

Our equine neighbors were enjoying their Thanksgiving, too.

Down here, camellias are now in full bloom and their bright, colorful flowers will carry us through the winter..

 

As we were clearing our plates, it dawned on us that we should have dined al fresco today. So instead we had pie on the porch.

 

Our pet gecko had a happy Thanksgiving after we spotted the grasshopper behind the azalea bloom...can you?

 

We planted pineapple tops on a whim this summer...and they are taking off! Who knows if they'll actually yield fruit, but they love the sandy soil.

 

A seasonal stoplight, the Japanese Maple is green in the spring and summer, yellow in autumn, then red in time for the holidays.

 

Our family tradition is to walk it all off down on the pier every Thanksgiving sunset. Arriving a bit early, the sun illuminates the bubbly fountain.

 

At ease, sailor...

 

We hope someday to meet Chloe & Isabelle; they loved their Yaya & Gpa...and we'd like to ask them what they meant about the elevators...

 

An uprooted tree still left over from Katrina reminds us of the things we're all thankful for today. How quickly we forget....

 

Yo, dude, check out that dark-haired chick right under ya...she's busy texting and just outta my range!

 

Last check on the crab traps near the Loch Ness Log

 

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Salute

…to all the people who served our country, that I could have the freedom to blog here and now, with a clear conscience and with no fear…

…to the talented man on the Kitty Hawk whose service is reflected on my mantle in the form of a properly folded flag…

…to those who’d hoped to serve but didn’t, or couldn’t…but are just as patriotic….

…to all the men like Buddy (10/22/11 post), who returned from the Delta alive, who were greeted with ignorant piss instead of with grateful reverence and respect…

…to those who stood by those who served…

…to the very young men under my roof who have unwaveringly expressed a desire to serve…sons of sons of sailors…

…to those who protested those who served, who now, in their older wisdom, realize their foolishness, and are ashamed to admit it…

…to those who proudly put themselves in the very face of danger on foreign soils to protect not only our country, but the essence of freedom…

…to those who still live who served and fought for righteousness for my father through WWI and my mother through WWII…

…to the men and women who believe in our country despite its shortcomings, and still enlist…

…to A.K., who is from another continent, but has proudly become a citizen and leaves me on schedule for drill in preparation to serve….

…to the brave men and women in uniform who will show our children around the C-5 Galaxy, Apache, C-130, Iroquois, F-18 et al. this afternoon at Homecoming and will – in word and deed – help us instill in them the character trait of patriotism…

…to the veterans with whom we will share a rolling tear today, hand over heart during the Star Spangled Banner,  as we salute our flag and their valued service…

…to the dear friend who brought out his Navy uniform, even though it no longer fits, to reflect and reminisce, that we could all be reminded of the threads of courage, pride, willingness, duty and belief in freedom – all tightly woven to hold our country together…

God, please bless our veterans with love, appreciation and peace…may they know how much the rest of us do not take their service and our freedom for granted, how much we love them, and how proud we are of them. Every single day of the year.

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Helluva Monday, it was. I did nothing but explain stuff:

2:38 am: To two young children, why it was not time to get out of bed and plug in a Three Stooges DVD.

4:45 am: To my body, why I was ignoring the alarm and snoozing another 1/2 hour, when I hate snoozing.

6:19 am: To algebra teacher via email, why child is not living up to potential, and what we will do to rectify situation.

8:06 am: To supervisor, how I was able to heed her advice to not think about “this place” over the weekend, by hitting the beach.

10:32 am: To irate grandparent, to their face and with authorities present, why I was recommending their rights to child be terminated.

12:14 pm: To coworkers, why they ought not kidnap and take me on 3 mile run on lunch tomorrow, because I’m still weak from illness.

1:20 pm: To myself, why I’m missing my dad when he’s long gone.

2:03pm: To several children swarming me, why each of them could not have my undivided attention immediately and simultaneously.

2:46 pm: To coworker, why I will never ever ever reveal the location of this blog, over my dead body, etc.

3:14 pm: To child, why an unavoidable obstacle preventing her expectations from being met, feels like being lied to.

4:09 pm: To administrator with a windowed office, how and why another one of my good intentions paved yet another road to hell with my staff.

4:43 pm: To myself, why I just now “got” something somebody told me months ago, while dreaming and flying over the bridge over water.

5:01 pm: To my car, why I switched to the left lane because the right was too slow, only to have the left lane slow down thanks to the guy 3 cars ahead slowing down to turn left. Then switching back to the right, only to have the right lane slow down thanks to the guy another few cars ahead hold us up to turn right. Repeat left and right, two more times.

5:14 pm: To husband, why I am late. Again. Aaargh.

5:49 pm: To inquisitive eight year old, why God won’t rain manna right now, why we can’t have “smart marshmallows” rain down instead that we can eat and instantly get smart, and to sage twelve-year-old, why God doesn’t just rain down wisdom. And what the heck manna is anyway.

6:35 pm: To laptop, how the month got away in rare form for me, and why I was paying a bill online instead the usual way.

7:52 pm: To three-year old, why mommy doesn’t have the same equipment that all the other guys in the house do. And what it’s called instead.

8:31 pm: To my keyboard, why I should restrain myself from responding to the missions outfit that sent a plea in the mail today for us to support their unemployed missionaries while they hang here in the States until “God provides,” listing the identical financial obligations I also am faced with.

9:02 pm: To my disabled child, why he should not be afraid to go to sleep even though he will probably “see dreams.”

9:52: To God, crying out why life is so hard, then feeling guilty for crying out because others have it harder… hungry but not able to eat, weary yet not able to rest, grateful but too downtrodden to show it, joyful but too grieved to celebrate, surrounded and loved, but lonely.

Hey, God…do your stuff. That’s all I know to pray right now. This was one crazy day!! Your will, not mine. I’ve plain run out of ways to explain myself. You do the rest, please. Thank you, Lord!

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