Then its off to Florida for some Aunt Deeb, Uncle Andy, and a much needed bonding time with Taylor, Bethany, Grace, and lil Jillian.
Coco Beach
Then......I'm dropping off the kids with Tony. They are going on a camping trip.
I'M GOING TO ALERT!!!!
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Things that will be comin!
In June me and the kiddos are headed to "Sweet Home Alabama" for some granpa Tom time...aka fishing, getting filthy dirty, playing the fields of fresh produce, and maybe some target practice! Seeing aunt VeeVee, aunti Wooz-Tater, Brandi, and Dustin.
Then its off to Florida for some Aunt Deeb, Uncle Andy, and a much needed bonding time with Taylor, Bethany, Grace, and lil Jillian.
Coco Beach
Then......I'm dropping off the kids with Tony. They are going on a camping trip.
I'M GOING TO ALERT!!!!
Then its off to Florida for some Aunt Deeb, Uncle Andy, and a much needed bonding time with Taylor, Bethany, Grace, and lil Jillian.
Coco Beach
Then......I'm dropping off the kids with Tony. They are going on a camping trip.
I'M GOING TO ALERT!!!!
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Random Moments
It's random moments that sneak up on you that remind you that something is missing. I know this is my first post in what feels like forever, but to be honest things have just been nuts. I should warn you this is going to be personal and transparent.
Back to random moments.
Yesterday as I was going through my mental list of things I need for my trip home to Alabama. Then before I knew it I was sitting in my rocking chair in my kitchen sobbing. It was the first time I had cried, like seriously cried about a loss that hit my family like a devastating tornado. They always warn you about the stages of grief, it comes in waves, it will wash over you, it will strip you of your strength, anger, ect. They never tell you the stages come when your not ready, when your guard is down. Being the guarded person that I am, I kept the showing my grief to a minim...or maybe it was because I was so busy trying to be strong for my husband and our two beautiful children.
On April 21st Tony's dad, my Poppa Bear, the Peepaw, the loving husband, the kind of daddy a child dreams of having lost his battle with pancreatic cancer.
For days I sat and wondered how Tony was going to be, how he was going to recover from losing his daddy. The man that from day one carried him in a back pack on hunting trips until he was too big for the pack. The man that gave him his first beer, taught him how to use an ax, shoot a gun, how to start the perfect camp fire, the man that taught my husband how to be a man.
For weeks leading up to the end I laid in bed worrying about Avery and Paiden, their Peepaw was always at soccer, drove them to school while I was mission trips, that had a running "What kind of bird is that?" list at the cottage with Avery, Paiden's digging for cow heads buddy. How HOW HOW were they going to recover?
I would have conversations with God pleading for Ron's life on my way home from work. I knew it was coming as I was kneeling in my flower beds Paiden was sitting next t me and said "last night I had a dream that Peepaw was all better mommy, he's going to be all better when he gets to heaven". With in days it was over.
I thought I was going to be fine, and then yesterday happened.
When you fill out your passport information you are required to give the contact information for someone you would never travel with. This is the person they (the authorities) notify if something happens to you while traveling. Ron was my person. I remember the day I asked him. It was in the drive shed over a beer and ribs i was plucking off the BBQ when his back was turned. I opened up my passport and saw his name written in ink...
Back to random moments.
Yesterday as I was going through my mental list of things I need for my trip home to Alabama. Then before I knew it I was sitting in my rocking chair in my kitchen sobbing. It was the first time I had cried, like seriously cried about a loss that hit my family like a devastating tornado. They always warn you about the stages of grief, it comes in waves, it will wash over you, it will strip you of your strength, anger, ect. They never tell you the stages come when your not ready, when your guard is down. Being the guarded person that I am, I kept the showing my grief to a minim...or maybe it was because I was so busy trying to be strong for my husband and our two beautiful children.
On April 21st Tony's dad, my Poppa Bear, the Peepaw, the loving husband, the kind of daddy a child dreams of having lost his battle with pancreatic cancer.
For days I sat and wondered how Tony was going to be, how he was going to recover from losing his daddy. The man that from day one carried him in a back pack on hunting trips until he was too big for the pack. The man that gave him his first beer, taught him how to use an ax, shoot a gun, how to start the perfect camp fire, the man that taught my husband how to be a man.
For weeks leading up to the end I laid in bed worrying about Avery and Paiden, their Peepaw was always at soccer, drove them to school while I was mission trips, that had a running "What kind of bird is that?" list at the cottage with Avery, Paiden's digging for cow heads buddy. How HOW HOW were they going to recover?
I would have conversations with God pleading for Ron's life on my way home from work. I knew it was coming as I was kneeling in my flower beds Paiden was sitting next t me and said "last night I had a dream that Peepaw was all better mommy, he's going to be all better when he gets to heaven". With in days it was over.
I thought I was going to be fine, and then yesterday happened.
When you fill out your passport information you are required to give the contact information for someone you would never travel with. This is the person they (the authorities) notify if something happens to you while traveling. Ron was my person. I remember the day I asked him. It was in the drive shed over a beer and ribs i was plucking off the BBQ when his back was turned. I opened up my passport and saw his name written in ink...
Sunday, December 20, 2009
The good the bad the ugly
Christmas bring out all of these things are more in me. Like so many other posts I believe it is my duty to be real, transparent, I don't play pretend well and I'm not going to now.
I love Christmas for so many reasons. Giving praise and sing songs of thanks to our Holy Father for his son who offered his life so that we may live with grace and freedom. For he is the reason for this season (teehee i'm a poet...haha) ok i'm gonna get back to the subject. Without Jesus we would have no reason to even have Christmas, December 25th would just be another day. We give presents as maybe a reminder that its better to give then to receive. Coz really God gave right? We had nothing to give Him that He didn't already have. I'm not talking about our love and devotion, nor giving Him our hearts. I'm just saying He has never asked for us to give Him a new toy or IPOD. This is the time of the year where I'm physically blown away by God's hugs believe me after working 96 hours this week, it's only God's strength that keeps me going.
The bad part about this time of the year....I get a bit ugly ok I'll be honest I get REALLY ugly. I guess exhaustion takes over my body, heart, and mind. I take everything personally. I get so home sick that I become bitter. I hate that I will spend another Christmas with out my parents, sister and her wonderful loud house. I loath that fact that I have never ever EVER had a big loud family holiday. I squirm that my in laws are not big "yay it's Christmas people", and they never have been.
Then the overly controlling part that insets that the kids get what they asked for from Santa is under that tree even if I have to sit on the floor drinking coffee at midnight waiting for the stock personnel to unload the truck (yes, I got that Moxie doll named Avery and I only had to stay at Wal-Mart three nights to get it. I screamed like Avery will on Christmas morning after I paid for it too.)To be honest again, I do love that I am that type of mom, I love giving to my children, they give me the kisses and prayers that make me smile even on my darkest days, and if a Moxie doll is what will make Avery smile...I would go back to Wal-Mart again tonight and wait for the trucks to unload again.
I love that by living in Canada I get to have the white Christmas I dreamed about as a child. I love that my husband is strong enough to deal with my emotional roller coaster. My heart bursts with pride that God blessed me with amazing children. But there is such an ugly part of me that longs to be home. I want to laugh at the loudness of my children playing with my sisters kids. I wanna see my daddy's face when he watches for the first time; his grandchildren opening up their gifts on Christmas morning. I wanna eat my Mommy's pancakes with with loud "can you pass the butter" yells from across the table.
But being the woman God made me to be, I will praise and rejoice because I know in my heart that when you are faithful with the things God gives you...He will bless you with more, when He knows you're ready.
I love Christmas for so many reasons. Giving praise and sing songs of thanks to our Holy Father for his son who offered his life so that we may live with grace and freedom. For he is the reason for this season (teehee i'm a poet...haha) ok i'm gonna get back to the subject. Without Jesus we would have no reason to even have Christmas, December 25th would just be another day. We give presents as maybe a reminder that its better to give then to receive. Coz really God gave right? We had nothing to give Him that He didn't already have. I'm not talking about our love and devotion, nor giving Him our hearts. I'm just saying He has never asked for us to give Him a new toy or IPOD. This is the time of the year where I'm physically blown away by God's hugs believe me after working 96 hours this week, it's only God's strength that keeps me going.
The bad part about this time of the year....I get a bit ugly ok I'll be honest I get REALLY ugly. I guess exhaustion takes over my body, heart, and mind. I take everything personally. I get so home sick that I become bitter. I hate that I will spend another Christmas with out my parents, sister and her wonderful loud house. I loath that fact that I have never ever EVER had a big loud family holiday. I squirm that my in laws are not big "yay it's Christmas people", and they never have been.
Then the overly controlling part that insets that the kids get what they asked for from Santa is under that tree even if I have to sit on the floor drinking coffee at midnight waiting for the stock personnel to unload the truck (yes, I got that Moxie doll named Avery and I only had to stay at Wal-Mart three nights to get it. I screamed like Avery will on Christmas morning after I paid for it too.)To be honest again, I do love that I am that type of mom, I love giving to my children, they give me the kisses and prayers that make me smile even on my darkest days, and if a Moxie doll is what will make Avery smile...I would go back to Wal-Mart again tonight and wait for the trucks to unload again.
I love that by living in Canada I get to have the white Christmas I dreamed about as a child. I love that my husband is strong enough to deal with my emotional roller coaster. My heart bursts with pride that God blessed me with amazing children. But there is such an ugly part of me that longs to be home. I want to laugh at the loudness of my children playing with my sisters kids. I wanna see my daddy's face when he watches for the first time; his grandchildren opening up their gifts on Christmas morning. I wanna eat my Mommy's pancakes with with loud "can you pass the butter" yells from across the table.
But being the woman God made me to be, I will praise and rejoice because I know in my heart that when you are faithful with the things God gives you...He will bless you with more, when He knows you're ready.
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
The Jeans....
ok, look i know this is uberly stupid and at the same time maybe its not....to me...it's not stupid. but i could see how someone would think it pretty vain.
this past weekend i took a drive with my favorite two girlfriends and we went shopping, after a great dinner and some retail therapy we all had some money left over. ok....pause for just a sec and rewind. during our travels we found out that a jeans and shirt store....cough cough..Holster...cough cough was have a GREAT sale on jeans. ok fast forward to where we were.
we had money left over and we were SO EXCITED..jeans for 29.95 at Holster, this was going to be the cool moment where i was going to be able to buy myself a great pair of HOT jeans....and not feel guilty coz they were only going to cost me 29.95 + tax.....
my excitement went to an ego blown right out of the water...actually i was down right angry. don't get me wrong i was still very excited for my favorite ladies that they were both able to find and fit into the hot deal. but yes i was angry that all the working out i've done, all the running, the weight i've lost, the soreness of lifting weights...... added up to nothing....well at least nothing i was going to fit into.
i realize that this is stupid and vain, but come on people i have been just about the same size my whole life....and those jeans wouldn't even fit over my thigh. and i'm really not a "bigger" girl...i'm actually a small girl....with a butt and some legs.
then tonight i was reading an old magazine and i read a quot from Christina Applegate that said....if you don't think the jeans are going to fit....just don't try them on, you are perfect and beautiful without having to try to fit into the mold.
so while i was working out thinking...am i ever going to fit into a hot pair of jeans i have decided that i'm going to think of it this way....the jeans i wear will be hot coz i'm the one wearing them, and wouldn't it be wonderful if more women felt this way...
Truly ladies we are all sexy, beautiful, hot women.....because God made us all perfect.
this past weekend i took a drive with my favorite two girlfriends and we went shopping, after a great dinner and some retail therapy we all had some money left over. ok....pause for just a sec and rewind. during our travels we found out that a jeans and shirt store....cough cough..Holster...cough cough was have a GREAT sale on jeans. ok fast forward to where we were.
we had money left over and we were SO EXCITED..jeans for 29.95 at Holster, this was going to be the cool moment where i was going to be able to buy myself a great pair of HOT jeans....and not feel guilty coz they were only going to cost me 29.95 + tax.....
my excitement went to an ego blown right out of the water...actually i was down right angry. don't get me wrong i was still very excited for my favorite ladies that they were both able to find and fit into the hot deal. but yes i was angry that all the working out i've done, all the running, the weight i've lost, the soreness of lifting weights...... added up to nothing....well at least nothing i was going to fit into.
i realize that this is stupid and vain, but come on people i have been just about the same size my whole life....and those jeans wouldn't even fit over my thigh. and i'm really not a "bigger" girl...i'm actually a small girl....with a butt and some legs.
then tonight i was reading an old magazine and i read a quot from Christina Applegate that said....if you don't think the jeans are going to fit....just don't try them on, you are perfect and beautiful without having to try to fit into the mold.
so while i was working out thinking...am i ever going to fit into a hot pair of jeans i have decided that i'm going to think of it this way....the jeans i wear will be hot coz i'm the one wearing them, and wouldn't it be wonderful if more women felt this way...
Truly ladies we are all sexy, beautiful, hot women.....because God made us all perfect.
Thursday, November 5, 2009
The Path
Every now and the you come to a point in your life when you really just don't know which way to go.
Then sometimes you know which way to go, but you still have to wait. You know God has a plan for you; still waiting is the hardest part.
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
Chapter 2
Operation Christmas Child
Chapter 2
So now that I have I shared with you how a simple red and green box can change the way a child looks at life. How something as simple as a doll or a stuffed dog, stickers or pencils and paper, tooth brushes or soap, socks and underwear can open up a window for a child to feel good about themselves, the door to a future, and a gateway to a world where their imaginations run free. That these little boxes can encourage a child to dream for a better tomorrow.
Ok, I need to stop there for just a moment and tell you about two little girls I got to meet while I was in Guatemala. Maybe after I tell you about them you will see why this year this project has become a little (understatement) personal.
Kimberly, she is the spitting image of my daughter Avery. Their birthdays are just weeks apart, they are in the same grade, enjoy the same things, and the both love soccer and their momma’s. Kimberly is the youngest of 4 kids. Through Compassion International her 3 brothers are sponsored and receive an education, meals, and just general help with things that are very much needed. Kimberly however is over looked by the organization because you can not have more then three kids sponsored. Without people personally sponsoring her, she would be unable to go to school because her parents wouldn’t be able to pay for her uniform. I went to Kimberly’s house during my second visit to Guatemala, and to be completely transparent with you. I wanted to just take her. I wanted to bring her home and love on her, buy her the things I think she should have. I wanted her to have a toilet that flushed, a room filled with toys to play with, crayons and paint to illustrate her creativity. Her parents are loving and hard working parents that give her, and her bothers everything they can. Her momma Anna is a beautiful woman and I could only pray to become Godly woman like her. This is not a family looking for a hand out, but a family that is living with what they have.
Katrina aka Katty, is an amazing young girl whose love for all things that are simple and “tom boy” toughness reminds me a lot of myself. I met her on my first trip to Guatemala. I can tell you that this little girl personal dragged me back to the Lord. She is the oldest of three children of a single mom who works in the Guatemala City dump. She goes to school, but when things get tough she helps her mom, and looks through the dump to find glass or metal so that her baby brother and little sister can have dinner. Her house is smaller then most people’s bathroom. There are no toys for her or her siblings to play with. Katty is not playing house she is the second parent and sometimes she has to be the primary parent. Again not because she feels like she ‘has too’, but because she knows that’s just the way it is for right now. She doesn’t begrudge her mother, be rejoices that she is able to help. This little girl loves blindly without reason; she looked at me one day and reminded me that I didn’t have to do anything for God to love me. He loved me just the way I was…..and so did she.
These two girls and so many more kids (300+) and their families receive clean water from a church/community center/after school center/medical center that Northview Church out of Georgia built and funded. But is pains me beyond belief that there are still children out there that have NO access to clean water or medical care.
When Sumatran’s Purse deliver the Christmas boxes the workers themselves go in and talk to the villagers see what they need. If its medical care or water filters they want to see kids and adults to be given a chance to survive the harshness of their world. They don’t just go in drop off boxes and run.
This year one on the many countries that will receive boxes from Canada will be Guatemala. This country holds a piece of me that I will never be able to explain. It’s a place that I found myself, I found the woman that God had intended me to be. I pray that you give this country and many others a fighting chance this Christmas. Remember is so much more then a box.
Chapter 2
So now that I have I shared with you how a simple red and green box can change the way a child looks at life. How something as simple as a doll or a stuffed dog, stickers or pencils and paper, tooth brushes or soap, socks and underwear can open up a window for a child to feel good about themselves, the door to a future, and a gateway to a world where their imaginations run free. That these little boxes can encourage a child to dream for a better tomorrow.
Ok, I need to stop there for just a moment and tell you about two little girls I got to meet while I was in Guatemala. Maybe after I tell you about them you will see why this year this project has become a little (understatement) personal.
Kimberly, she is the spitting image of my daughter Avery. Their birthdays are just weeks apart, they are in the same grade, enjoy the same things, and the both love soccer and their momma’s. Kimberly is the youngest of 4 kids. Through Compassion International her 3 brothers are sponsored and receive an education, meals, and just general help with things that are very much needed. Kimberly however is over looked by the organization because you can not have more then three kids sponsored. Without people personally sponsoring her, she would be unable to go to school because her parents wouldn’t be able to pay for her uniform. I went to Kimberly’s house during my second visit to Guatemala, and to be completely transparent with you. I wanted to just take her. I wanted to bring her home and love on her, buy her the things I think she should have. I wanted her to have a toilet that flushed, a room filled with toys to play with, crayons and paint to illustrate her creativity. Her parents are loving and hard working parents that give her, and her bothers everything they can. Her momma Anna is a beautiful woman and I could only pray to become Godly woman like her. This is not a family looking for a hand out, but a family that is living with what they have.
Katrina aka Katty, is an amazing young girl whose love for all things that are simple and “tom boy” toughness reminds me a lot of myself. I met her on my first trip to Guatemala. I can tell you that this little girl personal dragged me back to the Lord. She is the oldest of three children of a single mom who works in the Guatemala City dump. She goes to school, but when things get tough she helps her mom, and looks through the dump to find glass or metal so that her baby brother and little sister can have dinner. Her house is smaller then most people’s bathroom. There are no toys for her or her siblings to play with. Katty is not playing house she is the second parent and sometimes she has to be the primary parent. Again not because she feels like she ‘has too’, but because she knows that’s just the way it is for right now. She doesn’t begrudge her mother, be rejoices that she is able to help. This little girl loves blindly without reason; she looked at me one day and reminded me that I didn’t have to do anything for God to love me. He loved me just the way I was…..and so did she.
These two girls and so many more kids (300+) and their families receive clean water from a church/community center/after school center/medical center that Northview Church out of Georgia built and funded. But is pains me beyond belief that there are still children out there that have NO access to clean water or medical care.
When Sumatran’s Purse deliver the Christmas boxes the workers themselves go in and talk to the villagers see what they need. If its medical care or water filters they want to see kids and adults to be given a chance to survive the harshness of their world. They don’t just go in drop off boxes and run.
This year one on the many countries that will receive boxes from Canada will be Guatemala. This country holds a piece of me that I will never be able to explain. It’s a place that I found myself, I found the woman that God had intended me to be. I pray that you give this country and many others a fighting chance this Christmas. Remember is so much more then a box.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Operation Christmas Child
Operation Christmas Child
About this time every year I get uberly super excited about a program that I LOVE LOVE LOVE!!! Yes, I love it for obvious reasons, but this year my reasons for loving this program are VERY different. This year it’s personal!
This year I’m not calling this program Operation Christmas Child, this year I am 'nicknameing' this program Operation Christmas Hope. The reason you ask? Well like I said this year it has become very personal! These boxes go where children dream of Christmas but are caught in a world that’s filled with reality; there is no time or place to dream.
While I was in Guatemala and then in Uganda I had a few experiences that left the mommy in me torn into shreds. Now hear me out! I’m not new to the mission field. I started around the age of 12 and did my first “mission trip” four years ago. But I saw something that broke me, and I know nothing in me will ever be the same.
Have you ever seen a 5 year old little girl carrying her 2/3 year old baby brother on her back while hoeing a dry dusty field? Have you ever see that baby hours later crying for their sister, not their mommy, but their sister? Have you ever held the hand of a little boy and looked in his eye while he was being tested for HIV, the same disease that had stolen the life of every member of his family? Have you even see and child digging through garbage and actually eating what they find? Have you ever see and held 5year old little girl that wore a white ring she got off a milk jug as a bracelet with a men’s button up shirt with only a top button left to cover her little body?
I looked in to the eyes of these children and more, and I can tell you that these little red and green boxes mean a lot more then a Christmas gift to these children. They are a ticket to a place where imagination runs free. It opens a door to a long forgotten window filled with dreams, unleash world filled with make-believe and fantasy. They are reminding children that they are not forgotten.
As I told you before this year it personal, the list of the places that will receive the boxes that Canada as a whole will collect will be shipped to the following places: Central America & the Caribbean:
Costa Rica / El Salvador / Guatemala / Haiti / Nicaragua
South America:
Argentina / Bolivia / Chile / Paraguay / Uruguay / Venezueua
West Africa:
Cote d'Ivoire / Ecuatorial Guinea / Guinea Bissau / Senegal / Sierra Leone.
Friday, September 25, 2009
The Words on a Coloured Leaf
Avery was asked to make a list of things that she loved about her mommy, she could not go into detail, and she could only make a list of using one word.
My Momma
Beautiful
Funny
Loving
Patient
Cooking
Brave
Reading
Hero
So like any good nosey momma I asked her to tell me why she chose those words. I won’t repeat everything, but I just had to share this part.
Avery “mommy, you I have watched you walk away from your dreams to make me and Paiden your dream. I have watched you pack up your stuff to love on kids that don’t have a mommy. You have held me when I was sad and didn’t push me to talk. You get up every morning and make us a hot breakfast and you cook dinner even when your not here.
Mommy, you are such a good mommy”
As I sat there with tears in my eyes, I thought about all the things I have missed by working and dedicating my time to everything else in the world. And then I thought about the promise I made to my family…that they would come first from now on. And how just being there has made my daughter so proud.
I have realized it’s not always what you do with your moment here on earth…fame, wealth, and successfulness will pass when you leave this earth. But it’s the legacy you leave behind in the hearts of your children that carry on forever.
My Momma
Beautiful
Funny
Loving
Patient
Cooking
Brave
Reading
Hero
So like any good nosey momma I asked her to tell me why she chose those words. I won’t repeat everything, but I just had to share this part.
Avery “mommy, you I have watched you walk away from your dreams to make me and Paiden your dream. I have watched you pack up your stuff to love on kids that don’t have a mommy. You have held me when I was sad and didn’t push me to talk. You get up every morning and make us a hot breakfast and you cook dinner even when your not here.
Mommy, you are such a good mommy”
As I sat there with tears in my eyes, I thought about all the things I have missed by working and dedicating my time to everything else in the world. And then I thought about the promise I made to my family…that they would come first from now on. And how just being there has made my daughter so proud.
I have realized it’s not always what you do with your moment here on earth…fame, wealth, and successfulness will pass when you leave this earth. But it’s the legacy you leave behind in the hearts of your children that carry on forever.
Saturday, September 19, 2009
Forgive...but maybe not forget
Late last night as i was driving my children home, Avery started talking about things that she has obviously been holding on to for a while. She thinks everything through before she speaks, yes i realize i can learn alot from her. anyways...
she started talking about someone who has hurt our family deeply, and to her the things that this person has done are just unforgivable.
i took a deep DEEP breath and said crap (very loudly in my head). I too have been really REALLY....did i cover the really part? Struggling with forgiving someone who just seems to hurt me on a regular biases..... tony says that i give this person all the tools they need to keep doing this and maybe i should just walk away for a bit until it doesn't hurt so bad...yep i'm doing that but my face turn a number of shades of red...and its daily.
i found myself reminding her that before we can go to the Father and say "i'm sorry Lord, can you forgive me" that we have to forgive those who have wronged us. As you can imagine it felt like i was whipping myself with the whoppin spoon as we were talking.
avery-she said but momma, this person has stolen my trust. me-i know baby, and i know it will be hard to forgive them. but trust me baby...its so much harder staying mad it them.
she started talking about someone who has hurt our family deeply, and to her the things that this person has done are just unforgivable.
i took a deep DEEP breath and said crap (very loudly in my head). I too have been really REALLY....did i cover the really part? Struggling with forgiving someone who just seems to hurt me on a regular biases..... tony says that i give this person all the tools they need to keep doing this and maybe i should just walk away for a bit until it doesn't hurt so bad...yep i'm doing that but my face turn a number of shades of red...and its daily.
i found myself reminding her that before we can go to the Father and say "i'm sorry Lord, can you forgive me" that we have to forgive those who have wronged us. As you can imagine it felt like i was whipping myself with the whoppin spoon as we were talking.
avery-she said but momma, this person has stolen my trust. me-i know baby, and i know it will be hard to forgive them. but trust me baby...its so much harder staying mad it them.
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Tijuana's Live-In 'Prison Angel'
Today Tony called me while I was at work, not to tell me he loves me, but to tell me about a woman. This woman's story moved him to chill bumps and he couldn't wait to share it with me. I was able to find her story on the internet, so I have copied and pasted here for you to read.
I hope her story moves you.
Tijuana's Live-In 'Prison Angel'
American Nun Brings Hope to Inmates on Border
By Mary Jordan
Washington Post Foreign Service
Wednesday, April 10, 2002; Page A01
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
TIJUANA, Mexico -- Mary Clarke was an all-American Beverly Hills beauty, accustomed to luxury and her weekend beach home. She had eight children before a divorce led her to tear up her life and start again.
So as a middle-aged California mother she crossed the border into Tijuana in the late 1970s. She traded her sparkling gowns for the simple black habit of a Catholic nun, her English for Spanish and her airy Los Angeles home for a musty Mexican prison cell. For the last 25 years, Sister Antonia, as she is now known, has been the Prison Angel of Tijuana, a tiny woman in a spotless white veil ministering to the miserable.
Her mission is practical: She provides aspirin, eyeglasses, false teeth and bail to thousands of petty thieves and other impoverished convicts. She washes and prepares for burial the grotesquely tortured bodies left in the gutters by drug gangs. She sings in the prison chapel to lift the spirits of the down-and-out and counsels rapists and drug traffickers as well as the guards who carry automatic weapons.
Inside La Mesa State Penitentiary, one of the roughest prisons in Latin America, she lives in a concrete room about 10 by 10 feet with pink walls. She keeps little more there than her English Bible and Spanish dictionary. Long-timers recall when the 5-foot-2 woman halted a riot, walking into a hail of bullets to demand that the shooting stop. Inmates, stunned that she would risk her own life and let the tear gas burn away at her Windex-blue eyes, put down their guns and jagged broken bottles.
President Vicente Fox recently met and lauded Sister Antonia, who this year is also honored on a calendar praising women who have made great contributions to Mexico. Another president, Ronald Reagan, also wrote to her, in 1982, saying he was amazed at her "devotion to a calling beyond the ordinary."
Hollywood has come knocking, too. The Californian has always turned down the movie producers and generally has shied away from publicity. But now, at 75, and after a quarter-century in the prison, she consented to extensive interviews.
"I always felt for people in prison," she said. Then she laughed lightly, as she seems to all day long, telling a visitor that maybe some of her long-ago relatives spent time behind bars.
"It is different to live among people than it is to visit them," she said. "I have to be here with them in the middle of the night in case someone is stabbed, in case someone has an appendix [attack], in case someone dies."
All four of her grandparents came from Ireland and many people in Tijuana refer to her as the "Irish nun." She is a curiosity to many who do not understand why anyone would willingly live in a place known for stabbings and the smell of sewage, and who sings "Danny Boy" and other tunes while she does.
"There is no other way to describe her. She is a saint," said the prison warden, Carlos Lugo Felix.
Lugo said her work extends to helping poorly paid police and prison guards. Those people get little respect, in part because so often those who carry guns in Mexico abuse their power. But Sister Antonia embraces them, raising money for the children of Tijuana's long list of murdered police officers and hugging the guards as she walks about the prison. She also gives the guards ethics classes.
Lugo said their Prison Angel should be nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize, like Mother Teresa, who came to Tijuana in 1991 and chatted with Sister Antonia about their shared mission of bringing dignity to the poor.
Even with her serious heart problems and her chronic shortness of breath, Sister Antonia rises before dawn and seems to never stop moving. She is increasingly devoting time to organizing the religious order she recently founded. The order is specifically for older single, divorced or widowed women who have decided to devote their lives to the poor. It is called Servants of the Eleventh Hour, a reference to their late start in their vocation. Seven woman have joined.
"I can't die without giving other women, and someday men, the chance to serve as I have," she said.
Sister Carmen Dolores Hendrix, a widow with four children from Orange County, Calif., is part of the new order, which has the blessing of the Tijuana archdiocese. Formerly an electronics assembler for Rockwell, she now cares for the sick in Tijuana.
Joanie Kenesie, another California widow who works alongside Sister Antonia, said she was drawn to her obvious love of what she is doing. Kenesie has accompanied Sister Antonia to Tijuana's red-light district and around town. As they go, prostitutes and former inmates wave and honk.
"They will scream out the window: 'Remember me? Look at my car. I paid for it. Are you proud of me?'. . . . They love her."
As word of her work has spread, growing numbers of lay people -- many of them not Catholic -- have come to Tijuana from the United States to meet her and donate to her charities, such as a hospice for women and children with AIDS. Truckloads of medicines and mattresses and other donated items come nearly weekly from San Diego to the Tijuana prison. Caring for prisoners and others in Tijuana with tuberculosis, AIDS and cancer is also a significant part of her work.
La Mesa is vastly different from prisons in the United States: Wealthier inmates live in relative comfort in little houses with sofas and stereos, while the poorest inmates cannot afford a bed and so sleep on the ground. Inmates are expected to pay for their living expenses -- from clothes to medicine -- and so Sister Antonia has made it her mission to help the poorest behind bars.
"I am hard on crime, but not on persons," she said. "Everyone deserves to be treated with dignity."
At a recent Mass inside the prison celebrating her 25th year of living among the inmates, hundreds of robbers and drug traffickers and murderers interrupted the service to give her a standing ovation. They cheered and whooped at the little elderly woman on a makeshift stage.
On the prison soccer field that day one inmate recalled how Sister Antonia ran to an all-night Tijuana pharmacy to get painkillers for him after stopping a prison medic from sewing up a gash on his hand without anesthetic.
Inmate Jorge Perez Ruiz pulled up one leg of his jeans and exposed a festering sore. "She paid for my medicine so this wouldn't get worse," he said, dabbing at a year-old bullet wound. Martinez Lopez Serrano, a convicted burglar, chimed in, saying he was feeling miserable until Sister Antonia arranged for him to be transported to an outside hospital for treatment for his hepatitis.
The government has given Sister Antonia the concession to sell soft drinks to 5,500 inmates. She has used the money to free more than 2,000 poor first-time offenders by paying their bail or fines. She has also paid to fix the teeth of more than 3,000 inmates. Some lose teeth in prison fights; others lose them because they have never owned a toothbrush or known how to use one.
"Pleasure depends on where you are, who you are with, what you are eating," she said. "Happiness is different. Happiness does not depend on where you are. . . . I live in prison. And I have not had a day of depression in 25 years. I have been upset, angry. I have been sad. But never depressed. I have a reason for my being."
Mary Clarke was 18 when she married, and, according to her daughter, Kathleen Mariani, she was depressed when her marriage of 25 years ended. But, Mariani said, her mother sold their Los Angeles house and did more and more charity work. Several times she went to Tijuana, a place where she increasingly felt she could do the most good. She played records to learn Spanish.
Mariani, who lives in San Diego, said her mother used to faint when one of her own children needed stitches and literally passed out at the sight of blood. "That is the greatest marvel of all," she said, noting the gritty work she now does. "To watch her walk into that prison is incredible."
Sister Antonia resists any discussion of her life before she entered the prison. But she keeps in contact with her seven living children by phone and weekend visits. Her former husband has remarried and the two have almost no contact.
While she often tells those she counsels that "only love can break your heart," the brutality she has witnessed has also strained it. Many of the inmates and police officials she counted among her friends have been murdered. She spoke to the Tijuana police chief the day before assassins pumped 100 bullets into his body two years ago. She knew well the La Mesa prison warden who was dragged from his car and executed in 1995. She comforted and housed the mother of the man convicted in the 1994 killing of presidential candidate Luis Donaldo Colosio in Tijuana, one of the most infamous murders in modern Mexican history.
Manuel Martinez Rivas, a prison guard who has known Sister Antonia for 12 years, said she brings calm and warmth to Tijuana and the prison.
"She gives us a good talking to before we become guards. It's part of our training," he said. "She asks us to be better with our families, with our wives, to be faithful husbands, not to drink, and to treat the prisoners well."
Guards and others who know her say she helped get rid of the torture racks and other techniques guards used against prisoners in years past. Even at her celebration Mass last month, she used her few minutes at the microphone to ask for the closure of the so-called punishment cells, where prisoners are often beaten by other inmates.
"Little by little, I would like to think I have been an influence on getting better treatment for the prisoners," she said. "For so many of them, their only crime is poverty."
© 2002 The Washington Post Company
I hope her story moves you.
Tijuana's Live-In 'Prison Angel'
American Nun Brings Hope to Inmates on Border
By Mary Jordan
Washington Post Foreign Service
Wednesday, April 10, 2002; Page A01
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
TIJUANA, Mexico -- Mary Clarke was an all-American Beverly Hills beauty, accustomed to luxury and her weekend beach home. She had eight children before a divorce led her to tear up her life and start again.
So as a middle-aged California mother she crossed the border into Tijuana in the late 1970s. She traded her sparkling gowns for the simple black habit of a Catholic nun, her English for Spanish and her airy Los Angeles home for a musty Mexican prison cell. For the last 25 years, Sister Antonia, as she is now known, has been the Prison Angel of Tijuana, a tiny woman in a spotless white veil ministering to the miserable.
Her mission is practical: She provides aspirin, eyeglasses, false teeth and bail to thousands of petty thieves and other impoverished convicts. She washes and prepares for burial the grotesquely tortured bodies left in the gutters by drug gangs. She sings in the prison chapel to lift the spirits of the down-and-out and counsels rapists and drug traffickers as well as the guards who carry automatic weapons.
Inside La Mesa State Penitentiary, one of the roughest prisons in Latin America, she lives in a concrete room about 10 by 10 feet with pink walls. She keeps little more there than her English Bible and Spanish dictionary. Long-timers recall when the 5-foot-2 woman halted a riot, walking into a hail of bullets to demand that the shooting stop. Inmates, stunned that she would risk her own life and let the tear gas burn away at her Windex-blue eyes, put down their guns and jagged broken bottles.
President Vicente Fox recently met and lauded Sister Antonia, who this year is also honored on a calendar praising women who have made great contributions to Mexico. Another president, Ronald Reagan, also wrote to her, in 1982, saying he was amazed at her "devotion to a calling beyond the ordinary."
Hollywood has come knocking, too. The Californian has always turned down the movie producers and generally has shied away from publicity. But now, at 75, and after a quarter-century in the prison, she consented to extensive interviews.
"I always felt for people in prison," she said. Then she laughed lightly, as she seems to all day long, telling a visitor that maybe some of her long-ago relatives spent time behind bars.
"It is different to live among people than it is to visit them," she said. "I have to be here with them in the middle of the night in case someone is stabbed, in case someone has an appendix [attack], in case someone dies."
All four of her grandparents came from Ireland and many people in Tijuana refer to her as the "Irish nun." She is a curiosity to many who do not understand why anyone would willingly live in a place known for stabbings and the smell of sewage, and who sings "Danny Boy" and other tunes while she does.
"There is no other way to describe her. She is a saint," said the prison warden, Carlos Lugo Felix.
Lugo said her work extends to helping poorly paid police and prison guards. Those people get little respect, in part because so often those who carry guns in Mexico abuse their power. But Sister Antonia embraces them, raising money for the children of Tijuana's long list of murdered police officers and hugging the guards as she walks about the prison. She also gives the guards ethics classes.
Lugo said their Prison Angel should be nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize, like Mother Teresa, who came to Tijuana in 1991 and chatted with Sister Antonia about their shared mission of bringing dignity to the poor.
Even with her serious heart problems and her chronic shortness of breath, Sister Antonia rises before dawn and seems to never stop moving. She is increasingly devoting time to organizing the religious order she recently founded. The order is specifically for older single, divorced or widowed women who have decided to devote their lives to the poor. It is called Servants of the Eleventh Hour, a reference to their late start in their vocation. Seven woman have joined.
"I can't die without giving other women, and someday men, the chance to serve as I have," she said.
Sister Carmen Dolores Hendrix, a widow with four children from Orange County, Calif., is part of the new order, which has the blessing of the Tijuana archdiocese. Formerly an electronics assembler for Rockwell, she now cares for the sick in Tijuana.
Joanie Kenesie, another California widow who works alongside Sister Antonia, said she was drawn to her obvious love of what she is doing. Kenesie has accompanied Sister Antonia to Tijuana's red-light district and around town. As they go, prostitutes and former inmates wave and honk.
"They will scream out the window: 'Remember me? Look at my car. I paid for it. Are you proud of me?'. . . . They love her."
As word of her work has spread, growing numbers of lay people -- many of them not Catholic -- have come to Tijuana from the United States to meet her and donate to her charities, such as a hospice for women and children with AIDS. Truckloads of medicines and mattresses and other donated items come nearly weekly from San Diego to the Tijuana prison. Caring for prisoners and others in Tijuana with tuberculosis, AIDS and cancer is also a significant part of her work.
La Mesa is vastly different from prisons in the United States: Wealthier inmates live in relative comfort in little houses with sofas and stereos, while the poorest inmates cannot afford a bed and so sleep on the ground. Inmates are expected to pay for their living expenses -- from clothes to medicine -- and so Sister Antonia has made it her mission to help the poorest behind bars.
"I am hard on crime, but not on persons," she said. "Everyone deserves to be treated with dignity."
At a recent Mass inside the prison celebrating her 25th year of living among the inmates, hundreds of robbers and drug traffickers and murderers interrupted the service to give her a standing ovation. They cheered and whooped at the little elderly woman on a makeshift stage.
On the prison soccer field that day one inmate recalled how Sister Antonia ran to an all-night Tijuana pharmacy to get painkillers for him after stopping a prison medic from sewing up a gash on his hand without anesthetic.
Inmate Jorge Perez Ruiz pulled up one leg of his jeans and exposed a festering sore. "She paid for my medicine so this wouldn't get worse," he said, dabbing at a year-old bullet wound. Martinez Lopez Serrano, a convicted burglar, chimed in, saying he was feeling miserable until Sister Antonia arranged for him to be transported to an outside hospital for treatment for his hepatitis.
The government has given Sister Antonia the concession to sell soft drinks to 5,500 inmates. She has used the money to free more than 2,000 poor first-time offenders by paying their bail or fines. She has also paid to fix the teeth of more than 3,000 inmates. Some lose teeth in prison fights; others lose them because they have never owned a toothbrush or known how to use one.
"Pleasure depends on where you are, who you are with, what you are eating," she said. "Happiness is different. Happiness does not depend on where you are. . . . I live in prison. And I have not had a day of depression in 25 years. I have been upset, angry. I have been sad. But never depressed. I have a reason for my being."
Mary Clarke was 18 when she married, and, according to her daughter, Kathleen Mariani, she was depressed when her marriage of 25 years ended. But, Mariani said, her mother sold their Los Angeles house and did more and more charity work. Several times she went to Tijuana, a place where she increasingly felt she could do the most good. She played records to learn Spanish.
Mariani, who lives in San Diego, said her mother used to faint when one of her own children needed stitches and literally passed out at the sight of blood. "That is the greatest marvel of all," she said, noting the gritty work she now does. "To watch her walk into that prison is incredible."
Sister Antonia resists any discussion of her life before she entered the prison. But she keeps in contact with her seven living children by phone and weekend visits. Her former husband has remarried and the two have almost no contact.
While she often tells those she counsels that "only love can break your heart," the brutality she has witnessed has also strained it. Many of the inmates and police officials she counted among her friends have been murdered. She spoke to the Tijuana police chief the day before assassins pumped 100 bullets into his body two years ago. She knew well the La Mesa prison warden who was dragged from his car and executed in 1995. She comforted and housed the mother of the man convicted in the 1994 killing of presidential candidate Luis Donaldo Colosio in Tijuana, one of the most infamous murders in modern Mexican history.
Manuel Martinez Rivas, a prison guard who has known Sister Antonia for 12 years, said she brings calm and warmth to Tijuana and the prison.
"She gives us a good talking to before we become guards. It's part of our training," he said. "She asks us to be better with our families, with our wives, to be faithful husbands, not to drink, and to treat the prisoners well."
Guards and others who know her say she helped get rid of the torture racks and other techniques guards used against prisoners in years past. Even at her celebration Mass last month, she used her few minutes at the microphone to ask for the closure of the so-called punishment cells, where prisoners are often beaten by other inmates.
"Little by little, I would like to think I have been an influence on getting better treatment for the prisoners," she said. "For so many of them, their only crime is poverty."
© 2002 The Washington Post Company
Friday, August 21, 2009
The southern way for the northerners
One of "The Ladies" asked me if I would make a list of how southern people deal with the heat, well I'm just going to give you instructions for dealing with summer, after the last thunder storm.
So for my sweet, beautiful, God lovin friend...Vicki.
There are many ways of dealing with the weather of summer. Southern weather can be as unpredictable as gathering of Southern Baptist ladies at an after church lunch-in.
There is nothing like hearing blue haired ladies talking about the 'wickedness of the world'. Such as:Bless her heart, did you see Bobby Sue walking through Belks with that Jake guy? Nope, but I did see her holding hands with Jed at Bob's BBQ pit. The nerve....humf! Oh, Bless her heart, but she can't hold a tune any longer then Bubba jr, can stay away from the all you can eat buffet.
See southern women know, that you can say whatever you want, when ever you want as long as you bless their heart first. Learnt that myself from one of my favorite southern women....
Ok, sorry got side tracked. To survive the summer.
1. Drink lots of sweet tea. (ice tea for them northern gals)
*Boil water in a medium sauce pan, steep 4-5 tea bags for 5min, pour into a 1 gallon pitcher, add 1/2 cup of brown sugar and 1/2 cup of white sugar, stir, add cold water until pitcher is filled, stir again. Place some mason jars in freezer, and wait about 15-20min. Fill jar with tea and enjoy. While your kids run through the sprinkler and your husband mows the grass.
2. Fill jar with tea, and then head to the mall where the temp is always around 65. Or meet up with friends at The Wal-Mart, where you walk around a look at things you don't need. Its always better to hang out some where someone else pays for the air conditioning
3. This is by far the thing I miss the most about my life in the south. Fix yourself a jar of tea, grab a great book, and head out to your front porch swing, and wave at the down home people as they drive by.
4. During thunder storms, asses the situation. Is it gonna be bad? Or REALLY bad, you can tell by how hot it is outside before and during storm. I will have to break this down into two categories.
*In the car. If you are driving on the interstate or 400 series highways and the rain is coming down so hard its like someone is standing in front of your car with a water hose. Turn on your flashers, get behind an 18 wheeler and just cruz along behind him. If the rain is SO bad you cant see his tail lights pull under a over pass ramp, leave flashers on and wait until you feel safe to drive. If the storm calms to the point of no movement and you hear/see a tornado coming get out of your car climb up the slanted side of the over pass where you are protected and STAY! If there in no over pass get out of you car, and get in a ditch tuck yourself into a ball and wait.
*At home first find something for your kids to do when or if the power goes out, so you don't feel the need to throw them out in storm. We dance, board games, make paper cutouts ect. Cook dinner early or make sandwiches something you can eat by the oil lamps. Keep a radio with batteries and a flash light handy. If there is a tornado warning for your area and you have a basement hang out in there for a bit, if not gather your family and pet into the most center room of your house with blankets and pillows.
When I was a kid we often had camp outs in the storm pit...it was always so much fun, though the grown ups will tell you s different storey.
5. Hang out by the lake with your friends! Blow up a big float that you can sleep on, fix yourself a big ol' bottle of tea and then tie one end of a long piece of a rope to your toes and the other to the dock so you don't float away. When you get really hot or just wanna jump in tie the rope to the float.
6. Homemade ice cream and warm watermelon is a favorite of the southern ladies. Its the best thing to have around 7-8 pm, not to close to bed time but after the sun has gone down.
Things you should NEVER do! Use baby oil for tanning, drink beer or wine coolers (alcohol and sun don't mix well), leave things like a dog in your car, go anywhere with out a glass of tea or water.
I do have to admit I love summer! Enjoy everybody!!!!
So for my sweet, beautiful, God lovin friend...Vicki.
There are many ways of dealing with the weather of summer. Southern weather can be as unpredictable as gathering of Southern Baptist ladies at an after church lunch-in.
There is nothing like hearing blue haired ladies talking about the 'wickedness of the world'. Such as:Bless her heart, did you see Bobby Sue walking through Belks with that Jake guy? Nope, but I did see her holding hands with Jed at Bob's BBQ pit. The nerve....humf! Oh, Bless her heart, but she can't hold a tune any longer then Bubba jr, can stay away from the all you can eat buffet.
See southern women know, that you can say whatever you want, when ever you want as long as you bless their heart first. Learnt that myself from one of my favorite southern women....
Ok, sorry got side tracked. To survive the summer.
1. Drink lots of sweet tea. (ice tea for them northern gals)
*Boil water in a medium sauce pan, steep 4-5 tea bags for 5min, pour into a 1 gallon pitcher, add 1/2 cup of brown sugar and 1/2 cup of white sugar, stir, add cold water until pitcher is filled, stir again. Place some mason jars in freezer, and wait about 15-20min. Fill jar with tea and enjoy. While your kids run through the sprinkler and your husband mows the grass.
2. Fill jar with tea, and then head to the mall where the temp is always around 65. Or meet up with friends at The Wal-Mart, where you walk around a look at things you don't need. Its always better to hang out some where someone else pays for the air conditioning
3. This is by far the thing I miss the most about my life in the south. Fix yourself a jar of tea, grab a great book, and head out to your front porch swing, and wave at the down home people as they drive by.
4. During thunder storms, asses the situation. Is it gonna be bad? Or REALLY bad, you can tell by how hot it is outside before and during storm. I will have to break this down into two categories.
*In the car. If you are driving on the interstate or 400 series highways and the rain is coming down so hard its like someone is standing in front of your car with a water hose. Turn on your flashers, get behind an 18 wheeler and just cruz along behind him. If the rain is SO bad you cant see his tail lights pull under a over pass ramp, leave flashers on and wait until you feel safe to drive. If the storm calms to the point of no movement and you hear/see a tornado coming get out of your car climb up the slanted side of the over pass where you are protected and STAY! If there in no over pass get out of you car, and get in a ditch tuck yourself into a ball and wait.
*At home first find something for your kids to do when or if the power goes out, so you don't feel the need to throw them out in storm. We dance, board games, make paper cutouts ect. Cook dinner early or make sandwiches something you can eat by the oil lamps. Keep a radio with batteries and a flash light handy. If there is a tornado warning for your area and you have a basement hang out in there for a bit, if not gather your family and pet into the most center room of your house with blankets and pillows.
When I was a kid we often had camp outs in the storm pit...it was always so much fun, though the grown ups will tell you s different storey.
5. Hang out by the lake with your friends! Blow up a big float that you can sleep on, fix yourself a big ol' bottle of tea and then tie one end of a long piece of a rope to your toes and the other to the dock so you don't float away. When you get really hot or just wanna jump in tie the rope to the float.
6. Homemade ice cream and warm watermelon is a favorite of the southern ladies. Its the best thing to have around 7-8 pm, not to close to bed time but after the sun has gone down.
Things you should NEVER do! Use baby oil for tanning, drink beer or wine coolers (alcohol and sun don't mix well), leave things like a dog in your car, go anywhere with out a glass of tea or water.
I do have to admit I love summer! Enjoy everybody!!!!
Monday, August 17, 2009
7 years 7 lessons
September 2nd is a very important anniversary for me. No, its not my wedding anniversary or even the day I became a Christian, but its a very important day.
As of September 2nd....I will have lived here in the great province of Ontario for 7 years. *deep sigh* Yep, I know its hard to believe coz its hard for me to even think about it. Don't get me wrong I love living here, and to be honest this past year was the first year I didn't feel home sick everyday.
Two very different group of friends have made living here bearable. There have been a few lessons I've learned....the HARD way while living here, actually there is seven. Yep, you got it! I learn something new each year. I figure after living here for 20+ years....if I make it that long I will write an instruction manual for southerns moving north.
Year 1 When you are out of diapers and there is a blizzard outside...you still have to leave your fear behind get in your car and drive to Wal Mart. Driving in the snow is NOT the same as driving through a thunder storm.
Year 2 Always keep a 1/2 to a full tank of gas! The condensation in your tank freezes and will leave you stranded. Better yet keep a 4-6 pk of gas de-icer in your car.
Year 3 You can never ever have too many pairs of mittens, your children lose them, you drive off with then on your roof, they get wet and nasty. Just keep a small trunk on them next to your back door.
Year 4 It actually gets cold enough to freeze your car battery, keep jumper cables on hand.
Year 5 If you have children you must have a pair of snow pants coz they don't care how cold it is...they will skate outside until their feet have frost bite.
Year 6 Dusty hay has to be watered down, during the winter...its best to just fill a water bucket up in the barn instead of trying to use the outside water speckit.
Year 7 And by far my favorite! When your car door freezes open on shut...your best friends become an extension cord and a hair dryer.
There are a few other lessons I've learen butI will save them for another day.
As of September 2nd....I will have lived here in the great province of Ontario for 7 years. *deep sigh* Yep, I know its hard to believe coz its hard for me to even think about it. Don't get me wrong I love living here, and to be honest this past year was the first year I didn't feel home sick everyday.
Two very different group of friends have made living here bearable. There have been a few lessons I've learned....the HARD way while living here, actually there is seven. Yep, you got it! I learn something new each year. I figure after living here for 20+ years....if I make it that long I will write an instruction manual for southerns moving north.
Year 1 When you are out of diapers and there is a blizzard outside...you still have to leave your fear behind get in your car and drive to Wal Mart. Driving in the snow is NOT the same as driving through a thunder storm.
Year 2 Always keep a 1/2 to a full tank of gas! The condensation in your tank freezes and will leave you stranded. Better yet keep a 4-6 pk of gas de-icer in your car.
Year 3 You can never ever have too many pairs of mittens, your children lose them, you drive off with then on your roof, they get wet and nasty. Just keep a small trunk on them next to your back door.
Year 4 It actually gets cold enough to freeze your car battery, keep jumper cables on hand.
Year 5 If you have children you must have a pair of snow pants coz they don't care how cold it is...they will skate outside until their feet have frost bite.
Year 6 Dusty hay has to be watered down, during the winter...its best to just fill a water bucket up in the barn instead of trying to use the outside water speckit.
Year 7 And by far my favorite! When your car door freezes open on shut...your best friends become an extension cord and a hair dryer.
There are a few other lessons I've learen butI will save them for another day.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Forgiving VS Anger
Yesterday I was deeply hurt by one of my friends, the bad part is, I wasn't really shocked by their actions...it's something he/she does on a rather frequent biases. But it still hurt the same.
In response of my anger I posted something the goes a little like this on my Facebook account:
ok, i tried to practice keeping my anger in...but i really have no room in my life for opportunist that step on and over people because they so desperately need attention. Let me ask you a question...how many of you would do the things you do if no one but God was watching?
Then I said this:
I'm just having an issue with fame hores. and the last button got pushed. Now I've been doing pretty good about not getting angry and keeping my temper in check, but today. I feel like I was standing on a rug, and it was mine...because it was something personal and close to my heart. And then someone walked up and ripped it out from under me. But it will be ok, all things come around...they'll get a bite in their behind.
I see now that this was very wrong of me.
I was so angry at this person for taking my "rug", something I felt was so personal....pure, and using as another thing to put on a resume.
After calling my sister and erupting, she had to remind me that some people are just fame whores, they need somebody to look at them and give them constant attention and validation. It is those people that battle evil insecurities on a daily biases, in order to feed their addiction of attention they will step on people. They often don't really care or even think about who they hurt along the way until its to late.
Deb reminded me its those people that feed on the judgment of others that need our prayers.
So while I was still choking on my anger, I had to remind myself that God tells us to forgive. Even if it hurts, we have to forgive.
So today? Yes, I'm covered in goose bumps and so mad I feel like I could cry. But I know God knows my heart, and I know he will restore what was broken/taken. And if that person walks past me...I will never tell them how bad they hurt me, I won't expect an "I'm sorry". Maybe its because they will think that they never did anything wrong, or maybe its best for some people to learn on their own. Or maybe just maybe...its. Simply because I know one day they will have to answer to someone way more powerful and bigger then I could ever dream of being.
God, give me the strength to forgive this person and show them love and patients.
In response of my anger I posted something the goes a little like this on my Facebook account:
ok, i tried to practice keeping my anger in...but i really have no room in my life for opportunist that step on and over people because they so desperately need attention. Let me ask you a question...how many of you would do the things you do if no one but God was watching?
Then I said this:
I'm just having an issue with fame hores. and the last button got pushed. Now I've been doing pretty good about not getting angry and keeping my temper in check, but today. I feel like I was standing on a rug, and it was mine...because it was something personal and close to my heart. And then someone walked up and ripped it out from under me. But it will be ok, all things come around...they'll get a bite in their behind.
I see now that this was very wrong of me.
I was so angry at this person for taking my "rug", something I felt was so personal....pure, and using as another thing to put on a resume.
After calling my sister and erupting, she had to remind me that some people are just fame whores, they need somebody to look at them and give them constant attention and validation. It is those people that battle evil insecurities on a daily biases, in order to feed their addiction of attention they will step on people. They often don't really care or even think about who they hurt along the way until its to late.
Deb reminded me its those people that feed on the judgment of others that need our prayers.
So while I was still choking on my anger, I had to remind myself that God tells us to forgive. Even if it hurts, we have to forgive.
So today? Yes, I'm covered in goose bumps and so mad I feel like I could cry. But I know God knows my heart, and I know he will restore what was broken/taken. And if that person walks past me...I will never tell them how bad they hurt me, I won't expect an "I'm sorry". Maybe its because they will think that they never did anything wrong, or maybe its best for some people to learn on their own. Or maybe just maybe...its. Simply because I know one day they will have to answer to someone way more powerful and bigger then I could ever dream of being.
God, give me the strength to forgive this person and show them love and patients.
Friday, August 7, 2009
Deebs
On the eve of my sister's birthday, that I have give props to a kick butt woman who molded me with her own two hands.
My sister, Debbie...better know at our house as Deeb's, could never be put in the category of just sister. She is SOOOOOOOOOOO much more!!!
You could imagine my sister's surprise at the ripe ol'age of 8 when she found out she was going to be a sister. But what she didn't know was God was rolling on the floor laughing until tears were pouring down his face when he got the notation of giving my sister me. Sometimes I think he placed us in the same family for a good laugh, but other times I know he placed us together because he knew that no matter what, when, or where we would always complete each other and back each other up....even when that meant sacrificing ourselves.
My sister and I were always left alone when we were kids, and growing up in Joppa, Alabama...we had nothing better to do then to torture the living crap out of each other from dusk till dawn. My sister always won the battles! She would lock me outside during a thunder storm, put dish soap in my bed coz I woke her up early (by pouring water on her...hehehe), would trick me into doing her chores, and I will never forget all the times she looked at me and said "who's mom and dad going to believe? you are me?"
While waiting for the bus she would pelt me with little green tomatoes and tell me that I was a nuisance. But then one day a little boy punched me in the face....she kicked his butt from one end of the bus to the other. I would wait for her after school outside her classroom so she could drive me home. All of her friends would call me little Debbie, and this would be the greatest complement of my life.
My sister and I would hang out in her room late at night coloring and drawing with neon crayons with the black light on so the would look all cool. I would sneak down to my sister's room when she had friends over and she would always let me in. When the nights got scary I crawled in her bed and she would hold me until the storm of life blew over. Debbie made my breakfast, woke up with me in the night, taught me how to use the potty, took me to my first bar, and my first concert.
When we were kids we would always sneak down the hallway wearing socks on Christmas morning to get our stocking before our parents woke up. We would quietly open our stockings in her bed, laughing and trying to keep our voices down. I still remember our last Christmas morning together...she had came home from college the night before, and I can't tell you how happy I was to have my sissy back down the hall from me.
My sister took me to my fist gyno appointment, and just to make me feel better the took me out for the largest white chocolate chip macadamia cookie. Led me on a historical adventure of Mobile, Alabama that took us to the beach. Debbie and I have traveled the world together and done mission work in Guatemala...."Oh, Picayo...the girl can't look me in the eye-o"
Though my sister and I have seen and done it all together, there is one memory that stands out more then any other moment our life together....
On February 26th, 2001 at 7am, my sister walked through the doors of Brookwood Women's Center on a mission...her mission? Me, I was in labor with my first child. She walked through the door of the delivery room with a sense of calmness that I was grateful for. With her coffee cup, lip chap, and smile in tow, she held my hand when I looked at her scared and in pain, she just tilted her head to the side and said..."it's going to be ok, I'm right here." When I cried about the pain, she would reassure me and say "I know it hurts." My sister had already had three beautiful children by this point. When the time came she took my hand and talked me though the delivery of Avery. Debbie was the first to hold her, she cut the cord, and wrapped her in a blanket. Debbie stayed with me that night, she slept when I slept, and talked to me when I was awake. At one point we laughed and sang out loud as we were watching MTV.
Today my sister is a Groovy mom to four amazing children, who never throws in the towel. She is a wife to a man who has now loved her for more then half her life. Debbie will tell you its not easy to live with her, but I know its harder to live without her down the hall from my room.
Debbie blesses children with her laughter, honesty, and compassion as a school nurse. She has prayed over a dying children, stuck band aids on more knees then most of will ever see, took medical calls from yours truly.
My sister....yea she's SO much more then a sister. Debbie is my forever miracle.
My sister, Debbie...better know at our house as Deeb's, could never be put in the category of just sister. She is SOOOOOOOOOOO much more!!!
You could imagine my sister's surprise at the ripe ol'age of 8 when she found out she was going to be a sister. But what she didn't know was God was rolling on the floor laughing until tears were pouring down his face when he got the notation of giving my sister me. Sometimes I think he placed us in the same family for a good laugh, but other times I know he placed us together because he knew that no matter what, when, or where we would always complete each other and back each other up....even when that meant sacrificing ourselves.
My sister and I were always left alone when we were kids, and growing up in Joppa, Alabama...we had nothing better to do then to torture the living crap out of each other from dusk till dawn. My sister always won the battles! She would lock me outside during a thunder storm, put dish soap in my bed coz I woke her up early (by pouring water on her...hehehe), would trick me into doing her chores, and I will never forget all the times she looked at me and said "who's mom and dad going to believe? you are me?"
While waiting for the bus she would pelt me with little green tomatoes and tell me that I was a nuisance. But then one day a little boy punched me in the face....she kicked his butt from one end of the bus to the other. I would wait for her after school outside her classroom so she could drive me home. All of her friends would call me little Debbie, and this would be the greatest complement of my life.
My sister and I would hang out in her room late at night coloring and drawing with neon crayons with the black light on so the would look all cool. I would sneak down to my sister's room when she had friends over and she would always let me in. When the nights got scary I crawled in her bed and she would hold me until the storm of life blew over. Debbie made my breakfast, woke up with me in the night, taught me how to use the potty, took me to my first bar, and my first concert.
When we were kids we would always sneak down the hallway wearing socks on Christmas morning to get our stocking before our parents woke up. We would quietly open our stockings in her bed, laughing and trying to keep our voices down. I still remember our last Christmas morning together...she had came home from college the night before, and I can't tell you how happy I was to have my sissy back down the hall from me.
My sister took me to my fist gyno appointment, and just to make me feel better the took me out for the largest white chocolate chip macadamia cookie. Led me on a historical adventure of Mobile, Alabama that took us to the beach. Debbie and I have traveled the world together and done mission work in Guatemala...."Oh, Picayo...the girl can't look me in the eye-o"
Though my sister and I have seen and done it all together, there is one memory that stands out more then any other moment our life together....
On February 26th, 2001 at 7am, my sister walked through the doors of Brookwood Women's Center on a mission...her mission? Me, I was in labor with my first child. She walked through the door of the delivery room with a sense of calmness that I was grateful for. With her coffee cup, lip chap, and smile in tow, she held my hand when I looked at her scared and in pain, she just tilted her head to the side and said..."it's going to be ok, I'm right here." When I cried about the pain, she would reassure me and say "I know it hurts." My sister had already had three beautiful children by this point. When the time came she took my hand and talked me though the delivery of Avery. Debbie was the first to hold her, she cut the cord, and wrapped her in a blanket. Debbie stayed with me that night, she slept when I slept, and talked to me when I was awake. At one point we laughed and sang out loud as we were watching MTV.
Today my sister is a Groovy mom to four amazing children, who never throws in the towel. She is a wife to a man who has now loved her for more then half her life. Debbie will tell you its not easy to live with her, but I know its harder to live without her down the hall from my room.
Debbie blesses children with her laughter, honesty, and compassion as a school nurse. She has prayed over a dying children, stuck band aids on more knees then most of will ever see, took medical calls from yours truly.
My sister....yea she's SO much more then a sister. Debbie is my forever miracle.
Thursday, August 6, 2009
Moment for the ladies
Growing up I was always on the small side, 5ft 3in 105lbs from the time I was 13-22. We do have to take into consideration that I was pregnant when I was 21 and I shot up to 145, but I walked out weighing in at 110.
Yep I was tiny and I praised myself for it. I worked hard to have a body that I could be proud of, and still struggled daily with self image issues. I always felt I was never pretty enough, the other girls I went to high school with always had dates and would get hit on by the hotties while we were out 'cruising' on Friday nights. I always got the "oh, Juli...you just so cute and funny." I was one of the guys and though I have to admit I loved was always being on the inside loop of the "man's" world, and would NEVER trade in my guy friends for any girl in the world. But I craved for someone to say I was pretty, or dare I even say it...SEXY!
Now, at 28 years old...kissing 29, I'm an active mom of two and I know I will never be "tiny" again, and I know my husband thinks I'm hot no matter how big my butt gets, but he did tell me that if I got as big as my hero Paul Dean, that he would love me....with the lights off. I just love him and how he just lays it all out there....don't worry he was joking, at least he said he was anyways. Anywho, my beehind ain't a size 2 like it once was, and now I starting to get over it.
No I'm not having one of those high and mighty feel for me moments, but I have a serious complaint!
Earlier tonight I read a blog written by a woman I have bundles of respect for, and it hit me. Are you ready for this...THERE IS A HUGE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN HAVING A BODY OF A 16 YEAR OLD GIRL AND HAVING A BODY OF A WOMAN THAT HAS BY GOD'S LOVING GRACE PLACED A LIVING BEING INSIDE OF YOU! THERE IS A DIFFERENCE IN HAVING A BODY THAT CARRIED, PROTECTED, AND NURSED A GIFT FROM OUR HEAVENLY FATHER AND A BODY THAT HAS JUST BEGUN LIFE!! WOW, I feel better already.
Did you know that the North American culture is one of the VERY FEW cultures where (i'm not talking about actively fit women) stick skinny women are valued. And don't be fooled they are valued, you see them every where on magazine covers, TV, or posing in clothes that people like America Eagle and Holster what us to buy. There is media out there telling our daughters that if they don't fit into this size 0/2 or heaven for bid they actually have curves that they're fat and covered in cellulite. Tabloids calling Jessica Simpson "fat!"
just pisses me off. No, my boobs arn't ever going to be as big as hers but I trump her by well, we'll just say a few pounds, and I would like to think I'm not 'fat'.
This kida stuff just puts the BIGGEST bee in my bonnet.
I really hate that we have become a society that values a 'girl' type body, when we should be showing appreciation to the 'woman's' body. I hate the we have become a society that gets pleasure out seeing girls/women clad around in clothing and bathing suits that arn't big enough to cover my big toe, and I have really little feet. Marlin Monroe...
one of the most beautiful women in movie history wore a size 12-14 and she had curves. She was not a rail that only ate salads, and skipped meals so she wouldn't be called names by the media, never foced to lose weight to play a role in a movie.
Now I'm not saying that I love my body, of course I don't no girl 'loves' everything about her body. But I am saying it would be a whole lot easier if the media and those little peons that make snickering smart a** remarks about ladies that don't fit into the extra small stores like the Garage would just shut their stupid traps and eat something. That has a few more calories the celery.
I'm just saying there is a big difference between having a body that looks like it belongs to a 12year old and having a body that woman should have, you know a bit of junk in the trunk. I hear Paula Dean has some great ways to add a bit of cushin on you tushin....
Yep I was tiny and I praised myself for it. I worked hard to have a body that I could be proud of, and still struggled daily with self image issues. I always felt I was never pretty enough, the other girls I went to high school with always had dates and would get hit on by the hotties while we were out 'cruising' on Friday nights. I always got the "oh, Juli...you just so cute and funny." I was one of the guys and though I have to admit I loved was always being on the inside loop of the "man's" world, and would NEVER trade in my guy friends for any girl in the world. But I craved for someone to say I was pretty, or dare I even say it...SEXY!
Now, at 28 years old...kissing 29, I'm an active mom of two and I know I will never be "tiny" again, and I know my husband thinks I'm hot no matter how big my butt gets, but he did tell me that if I got as big as my hero Paul Dean, that he would love me....with the lights off. I just love him and how he just lays it all out there....don't worry he was joking, at least he said he was anyways. Anywho, my beehind ain't a size 2 like it once was, and now I starting to get over it.
No I'm not having one of those high and mighty feel for me moments, but I have a serious complaint!
Earlier tonight I read a blog written by a woman I have bundles of respect for, and it hit me. Are you ready for this...THERE IS A HUGE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN HAVING A BODY OF A 16 YEAR OLD GIRL AND HAVING A BODY OF A WOMAN THAT HAS BY GOD'S LOVING GRACE PLACED A LIVING BEING INSIDE OF YOU! THERE IS A DIFFERENCE IN HAVING A BODY THAT CARRIED, PROTECTED, AND NURSED A GIFT FROM OUR HEAVENLY FATHER AND A BODY THAT HAS JUST BEGUN LIFE!! WOW, I feel better already.
Did you know that the North American culture is one of the VERY FEW cultures where (i'm not talking about actively fit women) stick skinny women are valued. And don't be fooled they are valued, you see them every where on magazine covers, TV, or posing in clothes that people like America Eagle and Holster what us to buy. There is media out there telling our daughters that if they don't fit into this size 0/2 or heaven for bid they actually have curves that they're fat and covered in cellulite. Tabloids calling Jessica Simpson "fat!"
just pisses me off. No, my boobs arn't ever going to be as big as hers but I trump her by well, we'll just say a few pounds, and I would like to think I'm not 'fat'.
This kida stuff just puts the BIGGEST bee in my bonnet.
I really hate that we have become a society that values a 'girl' type body, when we should be showing appreciation to the 'woman's' body. I hate the we have become a society that gets pleasure out seeing girls/women clad around in clothing and bathing suits that arn't big enough to cover my big toe, and I have really little feet. Marlin Monroe...
one of the most beautiful women in movie history wore a size 12-14 and she had curves. She was not a rail that only ate salads, and skipped meals so she wouldn't be called names by the media, never foced to lose weight to play a role in a movie.
Now I'm not saying that I love my body, of course I don't no girl 'loves' everything about her body. But I am saying it would be a whole lot easier if the media and those little peons that make snickering smart a** remarks about ladies that don't fit into the extra small stores like the Garage would just shut their stupid traps and eat something. That has a few more calories the celery.
I'm just saying there is a big difference between having a body that looks like it belongs to a 12year old and having a body that woman should have, you know a bit of junk in the trunk. I hear Paula Dean has some great ways to add a bit of cushin on you tushin....
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Comforts of Home, yummy stuff to be found
Hey ya'll check out my other Blog.
You will find it under Southern Stuff
You will find it under Southern Stuff
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
A Sound
I have been holding on to this post for a while, but after the email that I received (that i posted just a few minuets ago) I decided to post this one. You'll probably see it as cheesy, but here goes.
I spent the first 5 1/2 years of my life living at Holloman Air Force Base in Alamogordo New Mexico. My daddy, was an F15 Eagle tech, his last rank before retiring was Master Sargent. He was in charge of many, many fighter jets, and often slept at the flight line 7 days/nights at a time and came home for just a few days.
As a child I always thought growing up of an Air Force base was a dream come true. I often fell asleep at night listening to jets doing touch and goes just down the road from my house. I would lay there in bed at night and could identify the type of jet by its sonic boom.
There were other times that my momma would drive me out to the flight line (when she had enough of me screaming for my daddy) and my daddy would then take me out by the runway. I would tuck myself in his arms, take in the comforting smell sweat and grease, close my eyes, and relished in the loud pitch. The sound would get louder and softer it eventually would rock me to sleep.
Those loud starry nights are my favorite memories as a child. One night while I was wrapped up in the safety of my daddy's arms I asked him "daddy, why do you like jets so much?" and He held me a little tighter and whispered in my ear..."Taterbug, there is no other noise like jet noise. Jet noise is the sound of freedom. When you hear a jet, remind yourself that the noise represents the heart beat of a pilot willing to give you his life."
Those words remain with me today.
Many nights while I am pulling into work I hear the loud humming of a plane, sometimes...I'm blessed to here a fighter jet.
For those brief moments when I get to hear that noise...that only a fighter jet can make, I stop breathing, tears well up in my eyes, my heart pounds out of control, and I am covered with goose bumps.
The sound takes me back to the days when I was just a daddy's girl, but also remind me to pray for those who make our freedom possible and their families.
I had to shareLuke AFB is west of Phoenix and is rapidly being surrounded by civilization that complains about the noise from the base and its planes, forgetting that it was there long before they were. A certain lieutenant colonel at Luke AFB deserves a big pat on the back. Apparently, an individual who lives somewhere near Luke AFB wrote the local paper complaining about a group of F-16s that disturbed his/her day at the mall. When that individual read the response from a Luke AFB officer, it must Have stung quite a bit.
'Question of the day for Luke Air Force Base:
Whom do we thank for the morning air show? Last Wednesday, at precisely 9:11 A.M, a tight formation of four F-16 jets made a low pass over Arrowhead Mall, continuing west over Bell Road at approximately 500 feet. Imagine our good fortune! Do the Tom Cruise-wannabes feel we need this wake-up call, or were they trying to impress the cashiers at Mervyns early bird special? Any response would be appreciated.
Respons:
'A wake-up call from Luke's jets' On June 15, at precisely 9:12 a.m . , a perfectly timed four- ship fly by of F-16s from the 63rd Fighter Squadron at Luke Air Force Base flew over the grave of Capt. Jeremy Fresques. Capt Fresques was an Air Force officer who was previously stationed at Luke Air Force Base and was killed in Iraq on May 30, Memorial Day.
At 9 a. m. on June 15, his family and friends gathered at Sunland Memorial Park in Sun City to mourn the loss of a husband, son and friend. Based on the letter writer's recount of the fly by, and because of the jet noise, I'm sure you didn't hear the 21-gun salute, the playing of taps, or my words to the widow and parents of Capt. Fresques as I gave them their son's flag on behalf of the President of the United States and all those veterans and servicemen and women who understand the sacrifices they have endured..
A four-ship fly by is a display of respect the Air Force gives to those who give their lives in defense of freedom. We are professional aviators and take our jobs seriously, and on June 15 what the letter writer witnessed was four officers lining up to pay their ultimate respects. The letter writer asks, 'Whom do we thank for the morning air show? The 56th Fighter Wing will make the call for you, and forward your thanks to the widow and parents of Capt Fresques, and thank them for you, for it was in their honor that my pilots flew the most honorable formation of their lives.
Only 2 defining forces have ever offered to die for you....Jesus Christ and a Soldier. One died for your soul, the other for your freedom.
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Paiden
A few weeks ago my sweet baby boy turned4. The night before I spent the evening looking at pictures of Paiden before he became "Paidzilla" or "Zilla" as we often call the firecracker of energy that runs through our home.
He was born at 12:53 am weighing in at 8lbs 14oz and 21inches, it was a huge joke because my Poppa Bear (aka father in law) had made a bet with that Paiden wouldn't weigh over 6lbs.
Paiden is the baby of our home and he knows it, he can get away with stuff that Avery could have only dreamed of. He will often sneak into the bathroom while someone is showering and flush the toilet and then bolt it up stairs, he also hides under our beds to scare us as we walk by.
But there is another side of Paiden that mostly I get to see. Everyone knows Paiden as the head strong "tank", but I know him as my sweet baby that will tell you his momma is the most beautiful woman in the world. I know the Paiden that crawls up into my bed and holds my arm like he's holding a teddy bear to fall back asleep. That cries when he knows he hurt Avery's feelings (which is often).
He has brought me so much joy as a mom, and he is the one who has taught me that a messy house will still be there, there will always be war in the world, and there will always be bills you may not be able to pay. But your children.....you only have them for a moment, and no moment is worth wasting.
He was born at 12:53 am weighing in at 8lbs 14oz and 21inches, it was a huge joke because my Poppa Bear (aka father in law) had made a bet with that Paiden wouldn't weigh over 6lbs.
Paiden is the baby of our home and he knows it, he can get away with stuff that Avery could have only dreamed of. He will often sneak into the bathroom while someone is showering and flush the toilet and then bolt it up stairs, he also hides under our beds to scare us as we walk by.
But there is another side of Paiden that mostly I get to see. Everyone knows Paiden as the head strong "tank", but I know him as my sweet baby that will tell you his momma is the most beautiful woman in the world. I know the Paiden that crawls up into my bed and holds my arm like he's holding a teddy bear to fall back asleep. That cries when he knows he hurt Avery's feelings (which is often).
He has brought me so much joy as a mom, and he is the one who has taught me that a messy house will still be there, there will always be war in the world, and there will always be bills you may not be able to pay. But your children.....you only have them for a moment, and no moment is worth wasting.
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