It isn't often you can walk into a room full of women and feel comfortable. It isn't often you can vocalize prayer requests and find yourself immersed in a 20-minute "therapy" session. It isn't often that you feel the love of other women so powerfully you know you can call on any of them for a shoulder to cry on, a meal for the freezer or a special confidant concerning your marriage, weight, insecurities or other social maladies.
Not everyone is as blessed as I am to have a group of women to meet with every Tuesday morning. Freshly showered, full makeup and fancy clothes 100% optional. Sweats, yoga pants, skirts, jeans, dresses and tank tops. Our group is a varied as our outfits... and we love it that way. We are being the best "me" we can be and we are all loved by one another for being just that. Our own best self. Scared, tired, overwhelmed, successful or brave.
This month we dive into a brand new study. Something out of the ordinary for us. A challenge. A challenge to be Brave and Honest.
Brave: Honest Questions Women Ask by Angela Thomas is going to open your eyes to your own life. It will build solidly on the list of dreams you made this past session. It will lead you to places you may have not yet realized you wish to go.
This bible study was the origin of the Tuesday Morning Book Study Intended for the Female Parental Persuasion. Also affectionately known as the Tuesday Morning Group, Book Study Group and Mom's Group. Whatever you call it, this study was the start. The inception. The realization. The spark that lit the fire.
Several years ago I was stressed, worn out, had a thorn in my side and a deep and burning desire for "more". What I was doing wasn't working for me and it showed. I realized I needed to make a change.
I
knew I was a wreck, but I didn't know it. Ya know? I thought I was doing
all the right things, being involved at church. Staying home with the
kiddos, who at the time were three and almost one. "Aha!" you say. THAT
stage in life. Yes. THAT stage. Get out and go join a moms group! Join
another at church! Do playdates! Do all that you can to engage yourself
in mom-culture while stimulating the social side of your children!
But doing all that I could was undoing me. And some of the "relationships" I was in were undoing me.
In the course of that Bible study I realized I wasn't getting what I wanted from my groups and interactions.
I wanted something more.
I needed more.
I deserved more.
Before you get all judgy on me, think about this. We all want, need and deserve things.
Being deserving of something to fill your cup isn't being selfish. By
filling your own cup, you can fill to overflowing the cups of others!
As
we studied more, I realized I didn't just want, need and deserve more. I
was motivated to do something about it. Now that's something. When you
hit the point where wishing and hoping turns into planning and doing. I
said it out loud in that Bible study. I said I wanted to start a study
group for moms. Focused on moms and digging deep. Getting into
stuff. All the stuff. Fun stuff, messy stuff, sad and lonely and tired
and scared stuff. "Nobody knows this but I need to get it out" kind of
stuff. But it had to be a safe place. A friendly place. A non-judgy
place.
That
was the start. The first step. I pushed back from the other commitments
and said "no, thank you". Then I called on my supportive and motivating
friends to help me out. I needed help to make it work and I knew that.
Getting help isn't my strong suit, ya'll. So again, that was big. I
guess it became a year of bigs for me.
Big realization.
Big motivation.
Big growth.
Big change.
So here we are, three years later, and I'm excited to take you into this study. To see where it leads you. To see what Brave thing you will be inspired to do with your fits and talents!
Dear Lord,
May the study of this devotional bring all of us a fresh understanding of our roles in this life you hav blesssed us with. Help us to recognize what is wearing us out and how to change that worn out feeling. Help us to open our eyes to you and the rest that you have promised when we put our hope in you.
Amen
Tuesday, October 28, 2014
Monday, October 27, 2014
Lack of Style
My dearest friend from babyhood asked me to consider writing about "helicopter parenting". Hah! I don't have a parenting style, how could I possibly consider writing about parenting styles?
Ask your parents and grandparents what their parenting "style" was and they'll probably laugh and ask when parenting gained style. Don't we do what works for our kids? Shouldn't we do that at least? I don't know about yours, but my kids are two completely different styles of children. They require variation in parenting methods. My husband is writing in his blog, Midwestern Father, about how some of the tactics we employ with our kids have to be tweaked per the child. (Wait for that blog post, it isn't out yet.) In short, we use behavior bucks and bedtime "tickets". Behavior bucks are redeemable at the prize box and bedtime tickets are good for tv shows the following day, should they be retained by staying in bed.
Ella is a people-pleaser. (Unless those people are her parents, then she doesn't care as much!) But the systems work well for her. She loves to be helpful when that prize she's been eyeing is within reach. The bedtime tickets help her get to bed, but so far we have no real methods for getting her to sleep before 10pm. But she's a LOT like her momma. She stays up late, isn't much of a morning person, doesn't require a ton of sleep on most occasions.
Cassius likes to cheat the system. Circumvent. Work it to his advantage. The challenge with him involves staying in the confines of his slumber station and not asking for food after teeth are sparkling and feet are on the bed. His first system cheating session involved handing over ticket #1 for a hug, banana or toy. Then a refusal. Refusal to turn in ticket #2 when he reappeared 20 minutes later. "I never got back in bed, Daddy."
Touché, kid. Touché.
(This kid is a lot of work. As they all are. But this one requires a touch more brain power sometimes.)
So what's our parenting style?
We definitely aren't helicopter parents. My mom's most well-remembered piece of advice came when she once mentioned, "Kids are capable of so much more than their parent's realize." She was right, ya'll! She understands that kids have to do things for themselves sometimes. Hovering over them, helping with every tiny little detail of life isn't doing them any service.
My kids can do a LOT by themselves.
They don't always want to, but they can.
Get dressed. Check.
Brush teeth. Check.
Go potty. Check.
Buckle into seatbelt. Full check for Ella, 1/2 for Cassius. (He's getting there.)
Clear the table. Check.
Put away your laundry. 3/4 check. (I may assist with sorting and hanger-ing clothes)
You get the point. Check.
It was a few years ago when I decided to introduce the aforementioned chore chart system/behavior bucks, etc. in our household. It went well for a while, but after a few months I was overwhelmed. I spent most of my day checking chore charts, handing out stickers, tracking behavior bucks, etc. I'm tired thinking about it. Too. Much. Work. Way too much.
I had forgotten my mom's advice when shoes were strewn about the floor, coats hanging off chair backs, socks meandering through the dining room to the play room, underwear hanging from lamp shades when guests arrived...
I got overwhelmed. I got pissed. Yup, that's exactly it. P.O.'d TO THE MAX! And when I get PO'dTTM nobody survives. There is hell to pay by all involved and some in the vicinity. If you know me, you know this. It isn't fair in any stretch of the imagination. I'm working on that quirk of my personality. (I honestly am.)
Anyway, I was PO'dTTOM that January morning full of good intentions and New Year's Resolution plans. I was going to get us organized. Charted. On-course. I was going to have less mess in my life. What I ended up with was less mess but more stress and it was my fault for micro-managing my kids.
Today they have to pay the price for not putting their shoes away. The price being not having a clue where they are when it comes time to put them on! Deal with it, kids. Find the closet or go on a shoe-hunt. Your choice. I don't care until you make us late. Then I'm PO'dTTM again, but not so often anymore. Seriously.
Don't get me wrong. We still have chore charts, behavior bucks, bedtime tickets and problems. Kids are a crap-shoot. In all senses of the phrase. If you have kids, you understand that all-too-well.
***
If you don't have kids, or "get" what I'm gettin' at, here's a brief "tangent alert" story to get you in the loop.
When Ella was an infant she was on the changing table, diaper-less. She sneezed and shot poop all over the walls. There. Now you are in the loop. The messy, crappy loop. Welcome.
***
Back to the kids and the chore charts, etc. Like I said, kids are a crap-shoot. Knowing what will work from day to day with each child is your biggest challenge. Need an example? Check out my friend Ashli's Blog, Baby on the Brehm, and read this post. Or this one.
I can't predict if today will be a successful chore chart day or not, but what I can predict is that I have to go with it. I'm not losing behavior bucks, they are. Not. My. Problem. Seriously.
Today's chore charts are simple. The big things. Feed your designated animal. Brush your teeth. Get dressed. Put your dirties in the laundries. (Everything ends in "ies" with a six year old girl in the house.) And it works. Chores get done on a near-daily basis. I'm fine with that.
Helicopter parenting? Not my spot. I might be on the edge of it when it comes to social situations with my kids. I like them to behave, and I hover over that. I think that's ok.
Want my opinion on it? I'm not hip on giving opinions where I'm not an expert. (I'm an expert on zip-zero-zilch, by the way.) In a nutshell, I think kids who are the heli-pad of life never learn to take care of themselves in a highly-productive and responsible way. Yes, they'll learn to brush their own teeth and wipe their own heinies eventually, but they'll rely on others far too much. And their own kids (if they have them someday) will pay the price for them not "knowing" how to do things for themselves. Cook, clean, make decisions and negotiate contracts. Plan things. They just won't "get it" and I think their self-esteem could suffer. Or they could feel so entitled to being waited on that they don't notice how incompetent they are. I'm not an expert. Obviously.
Every kid has their own style. Every parent has their own style. Let them style.
My style is right. Your style is right. Or we're both wrong. God only knows.
Style on, ya'll. Or don't. Whatever works for you.
Ask your parents and grandparents what their parenting "style" was and they'll probably laugh and ask when parenting gained style. Don't we do what works for our kids? Shouldn't we do that at least? I don't know about yours, but my kids are two completely different styles of children. They require variation in parenting methods. My husband is writing in his blog, Midwestern Father, about how some of the tactics we employ with our kids have to be tweaked per the child. (Wait for that blog post, it isn't out yet.) In short, we use behavior bucks and bedtime "tickets". Behavior bucks are redeemable at the prize box and bedtime tickets are good for tv shows the following day, should they be retained by staying in bed.
Ella is a people-pleaser. (Unless those people are her parents, then she doesn't care as much!) But the systems work well for her. She loves to be helpful when that prize she's been eyeing is within reach. The bedtime tickets help her get to bed, but so far we have no real methods for getting her to sleep before 10pm. But she's a LOT like her momma. She stays up late, isn't much of a morning person, doesn't require a ton of sleep on most occasions.
Cassius likes to cheat the system. Circumvent. Work it to his advantage. The challenge with him involves staying in the confines of his slumber station and not asking for food after teeth are sparkling and feet are on the bed. His first system cheating session involved handing over ticket #1 for a hug, banana or toy. Then a refusal. Refusal to turn in ticket #2 when he reappeared 20 minutes later. "I never got back in bed, Daddy."
Touché, kid. Touché.
(This kid is a lot of work. As they all are. But this one requires a touch more brain power sometimes.)
So what's our parenting style?
We definitely aren't helicopter parents. My mom's most well-remembered piece of advice came when she once mentioned, "Kids are capable of so much more than their parent's realize." She was right, ya'll! She understands that kids have to do things for themselves sometimes. Hovering over them, helping with every tiny little detail of life isn't doing them any service.
My kids can do a LOT by themselves.
They don't always want to, but they can.
Get dressed. Check.
Brush teeth. Check.
Go potty. Check.
Buckle into seatbelt. Full check for Ella, 1/2 for Cassius. (He's getting there.)
Clear the table. Check.
Put away your laundry. 3/4 check. (I may assist with sorting and hanger-ing clothes)
You get the point. Check.
It was a few years ago when I decided to introduce the aforementioned chore chart system/behavior bucks, etc. in our household. It went well for a while, but after a few months I was overwhelmed. I spent most of my day checking chore charts, handing out stickers, tracking behavior bucks, etc. I'm tired thinking about it. Too. Much. Work. Way too much.
I had forgotten my mom's advice when shoes were strewn about the floor, coats hanging off chair backs, socks meandering through the dining room to the play room, underwear hanging from lamp shades when guests arrived...
I got overwhelmed. I got pissed. Yup, that's exactly it. P.O.'d TO THE MAX! And when I get PO'dTTM nobody survives. There is hell to pay by all involved and some in the vicinity. If you know me, you know this. It isn't fair in any stretch of the imagination. I'm working on that quirk of my personality. (I honestly am.)
Anyway, I was PO'dTTOM that January morning full of good intentions and New Year's Resolution plans. I was going to get us organized. Charted. On-course. I was going to have less mess in my life. What I ended up with was less mess but more stress and it was my fault for micro-managing my kids.
Today they have to pay the price for not putting their shoes away. The price being not having a clue where they are when it comes time to put them on! Deal with it, kids. Find the closet or go on a shoe-hunt. Your choice. I don't care until you make us late. Then I'm PO'dTTM again, but not so often anymore. Seriously.
Don't get me wrong. We still have chore charts, behavior bucks, bedtime tickets and problems. Kids are a crap-shoot. In all senses of the phrase. If you have kids, you understand that all-too-well.
***
If you don't have kids, or "get" what I'm gettin' at, here's a brief "tangent alert" story to get you in the loop.
When Ella was an infant she was on the changing table, diaper-less. She sneezed and shot poop all over the walls. There. Now you are in the loop. The messy, crappy loop. Welcome.
***
Back to the kids and the chore charts, etc. Like I said, kids are a crap-shoot. Knowing what will work from day to day with each child is your biggest challenge. Need an example? Check out my friend Ashli's Blog, Baby on the Brehm, and read this post. Or this one.
I can't predict if today will be a successful chore chart day or not, but what I can predict is that I have to go with it. I'm not losing behavior bucks, they are. Not. My. Problem. Seriously.
Today's chore charts are simple. The big things. Feed your designated animal. Brush your teeth. Get dressed. Put your dirties in the laundries. (Everything ends in "ies" with a six year old girl in the house.) And it works. Chores get done on a near-daily basis. I'm fine with that.
Helicopter parenting? Not my spot. I might be on the edge of it when it comes to social situations with my kids. I like them to behave, and I hover over that. I think that's ok.
Want my opinion on it? I'm not hip on giving opinions where I'm not an expert. (I'm an expert on zip-zero-zilch, by the way.) In a nutshell, I think kids who are the heli-pad of life never learn to take care of themselves in a highly-productive and responsible way. Yes, they'll learn to brush their own teeth and wipe their own heinies eventually, but they'll rely on others far too much. And their own kids (if they have them someday) will pay the price for them not "knowing" how to do things for themselves. Cook, clean, make decisions and negotiate contracts. Plan things. They just won't "get it" and I think their self-esteem could suffer. Or they could feel so entitled to being waited on that they don't notice how incompetent they are. I'm not an expert. Obviously.
Every kid has their own style. Every parent has their own style. Let them style.
My style is right. Your style is right. Or we're both wrong. God only knows.
Style on, ya'll. Or don't. Whatever works for you.
Saturday, October 25, 2014
It's Everyone's Tree
"I'm sure I will be, honey. What did you do?"
"The big kids told us we couldn't play under the tree because we were little kids. And I told them it's everyone's tree, we can play here if we want!"
Well, there ya go. Proud momma moment. She even let me know that those big kids left. Didn't even want to play under the tree anymore.
Way to go, kid. I AM proud. SO proud.
We've had chats about bullies. Kindergarten and preschool-level chats.
- Be nice to everyone.
- Include everyone.
- If someone is being mean to someone, tell them to be nice and include that kid being picked on.
- Look for kids that are lonely and be their friend.
- Stand up for yourself. From the get-go. Don't get bullied even one time.
- When someone is mean to you don't let them get away with it, not even once.
- Stand up for yourself, but no hitting, kicking, etc.
- Tell a teacher/adult immediately.
- Stand up for yourself and others.
She's at the bottom of the proverbial totem pole right now. Kindergarten. Little kid. Easytobullygrader.
My girl doesn't always exude confidence. She's timid. She's quiet, shy, apprehensive, fearful... a prime target for bullies.
But some days that kid of mine, some days, she's a real tough cookie.
Don't mess with this one. Don't try to take away her tree. She plays with her friends there and you can't tell her otherwise. So scram, big bullies... my girl won't stand for it. And don't try to bully her friends either, because her momma taught her to stand up for herself AND her friends.
Know what else her momma has taught her? To be a friend. To everyone. Because her momma is scared too. This sweet little girl's momma is afraid that someday her little girl will be one of the mean girls. And being a mean girl means living with that forever.
I wasn't one, but I knew some. I know some who were and who regret it. They realize as adults how horrible and degrading they were. How rough that person's life already was without their insults and comments and exclusion added to the mix. They have to live with that forever. I want the choice that Ella makes, that she has to live with for the rest of her life, to be the choice to be a friend. Compliment, include, care.
Maybe that should be our new mantra about bullying.
Compliment, include, care.
Because you know who else needs compliments and inclusion and caring? The bullies. Bullies are mean kids. Why are they mean kids? Someone has been mean to them. Maybe they don't know how to handle social situations. Maybe they are bullied at home. Maybe they just want friends but don't know how to make them. Maybe they need someone to stand up to them and be their friend. To include them. To care.
Remember how I said I am a scared momma? I'm not just scared about what choices Ella will make, I'm worried about the other kids too. I'm worried about the kids that are so picked on and crushed in spirit and beaten down that they take it out on their classmates when they get older.
I'm worried about the kids who are so picked on and crushed in spirit and beaten down that they hate themselves and they take it out on themselves when they get older. I've known some of them.
I'm worried that as kids get cell phones and ipods and gaming systems that they forget how to be a true friend. How to care and listen, give support and be a real and true friend. Through thick and thin. Through differences of opinion and interests. Through distance and time. Real and true friends are hard to come by. I'm worried that kids will become so engrossed in their devices and themselves that they won't even notice the kid that just needs a smile. A friendly wave. An acknowledgement of their existence. I'm worried about that kid that needs someone. Anyone.
"So what is Ella's next lesson?" you ask. Well, her next lesson is going to be to share that tree. Don't run the bullies off. Her answer was spot-on for her first bullying experience. "It's everyone's tree, we can play here if we want to." Next time, I'll teach her to add, "So let's all play under the tree together."
Because It's Everyone's Tree.
Thursday, October 23, 2014
Talent from the Heavens
You know how there are those people from high school that once you graduated you figured you might never see again? Even in a town of 432 people, there are some that kind of drop off the face of the earth, never to really be seen or heard from again. There was one of those guys in my art class. He was amazing. Talent from the Heavens this guy had. Even as a student in our middleofnowhere high school you knew there was something special there. He was destined for greatness in the art world.
And as far as I can discern, he's reached some significant level of greatness. It might not be widely known, but he's still great. Last summer he was the speaker at the annual alumni banquet in our hometown. So I went. I never go to that. Why did I go? I'd seen some of his work on his facebook page. But this stuff, I needed to see it in person. You can't truly appreciate any piece of art until you've seen it in person, in my humble and honest opinion.
I went. And I was wowed.
Again. No, still.
Talent from the Heavens. And it has grown and matured and become something so truly magnificent.
This guy right here, he doesn't just find a picture and make a drawing from it. He involves himself in the experience. He goes out to the ranch. He rides the horses and captures the essence of the moments on film. Then he picks just the right images to bring to life with his pencils. Yes, pencils. I know, take the time to go back and look again. Look closely. REALLY close. Yes, that's a pencil drawing.
Need proof?
Here is a progression of another of his drawings...
So who is this mystery man? This incredible talent hidden in the world?
His name is Tim. He does carry with him a somewhat uncanny resemblance to Tim McGraw. I was definitely on the tricked end of this photo at first glance...
When you head to his Riders of the Light Facebook page to like and follow and be a part of something so cool, don't be tricked by this one either...
 |
| "I don't see anything that I do as fantastical or amazing. I just do what I do because I love it, and because I know God has blessed me with a very special gift that I want to use to glorify Him, in the end." - Tim Kliewer |
But I digress...
The work this guy does in his spare time is what I'm still amazed by and jealous of 20+ years removed from that HS art class and the giant SouthWestern something-or-other style of painting he did that caught my breath. Now my breath is catching at these magnificent drawings.
Someday may my breath catch more frequently as I gaze at one hanging on the wall of my office where I write. Because as you all know, I'm a country girl. And this, well this is country art at its very finest.
A Talent from the Heavens.
To top it all off, he knows his Talent from the Heavens really and truly is from God. He's a humble guy. He wants to have his talents go to the glory of our Lord.
True Talent from the Heavens.
Monday, October 20, 2014
My Earthly Heaven
Unless you have the time to sit down and enjoy a good long read... wait. Just wait. Because this one is long and drawn out and a labor of love and is so much the epitome of me I can't wait for you to enjoy it. So wait until you can sit down, relax and enjoy.
**************
What is it that catches your breath? Makes you stop? Makes you, YOU. What ties you to your roots?
or a quick ride with my little girl...
There are so many lyrics to so many songs that hit a home-run to my heart. My husband picks on me for making our kids listen to country music all day. They sing along. No forcing required. Cassius requests Tim McGraw's, Meanwhile Back at Mama's on a daily basis. Ella can sing almost any song that comes through the speakers. And me? The one that catches my breath and takes me "home, home"?
This one.
Listen: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KxeocgQIj4Q
Read:
Thanks Kenny. Thanks for taking me "home, home" anytime I need to go.
Do you know what "home, home" is? My home is in the "city" now. We live in a small suburb of a city. There are cornfields in our 'hood. But "home, home". That's where you came from. That's who you ARE. At least for me it is. I love to go "home, home". My parents live in the same house they built when I was a baby.
Home.
The place you go and it "fits" just right.
Where everybody knows who you are. And who your parents are. And who your siblings are...
Where someone is always ready to help out.
Where when your daughter walks down the street people say "She looks JUST like you did when you were that age!!!" and they actually KNOW that she really and truly does. Really.
"Home, home" is the place where that little girl got to be Miss Poppy like her mom was twenty-some years ago. Where she got to sell poppies and collect the money for the veterans. Got to help put out flags and crosses at the cemetery in preparation for the Memorial Day Services. Got to be a part of something special and important and to learn.
Then she got to really have fun and ride on a float on a cold day in June in the annual Hampton Days Parade. Decorating the float, throwing out candy and waving to the crowd on a trailer behind grandpa's pickup. That's "home, home".
"Home, home" is where you go for...
#2 there in the river? He's getting it too. Farm fever. Rock piles, tractors, four-wheelers and dirt. He's into it. Someone (protecting the not-so-innocent here by omitting a grand-parental name) thought it a grand idea to teach the littlest how to start the 4-wheeler at a particularly dangerous age. (Let's say 18 mos.) Yes, the brake is on, the 'wheeler in neutral, etc.
Learn to drive your first "vehicle"...
For me there's nothing more enjoyable than spending a nice weekend or longer at my parent's house. That image of my kids on the 2014 version of a slip-n-slide? Heaven. For all of us. I picked and tipped beans for canning while they played and played and played... they were so happy for HOURS!
I know, you can get this in the city too. But to me setting up the slip-n-slide in the backyard in the city isn't the same. There's room to breath out here. There's a sense of safety. There is peace and quiet. Calm. You can hear the birds singing, turkeys come visit the ground below the bird feeders. Deer wander into the yard during dawn and dusk. The coyotes come out to howl at the moon while the people gaze at an expanse of sky that is truly magnificent.
Seriously.
Everyone has a favorite season.
Spring comes to mind. Sunshine, fresh air, warmer temps and the visibility of God's promise of new life. A release from the cabin fever of winter. Freshly plowed fields.
Summer is on the list too. Lake time. River time. Fishing, swimming, hanging outside with friends. Cold beer on hot days and nights.
Winter. That one comes in a distant fourth. Dead last in my book. (At least as a resident of Nebraska.) I do love the first fresh snow. From inside my warm house with a cup of hot cocoa.
I love the changes of season. Especially the other one. The transition to fall is like nothing else. I don't know how fall looks to you, but at "home,home" it looks just like this...
And it is magnificent.
There are beautiful leaves on trees and pumpkins and crisp air. Combines and grain trucks. Lines at the elevators. Chaff in the air and shredders in the fields and blue skies as far as the eye can see. And Saturdays where everyone's facebook status says GBR!!!
This is the season where those words from Ecclesiastes come to life.
The season where the farmers toil harder than ever. Earlier than early mornings and later than late nights. Missed events. Meals in tractors and on tailgates. The season where the labor of the winter in the machine shed, spring and summer in the fields, comes to fruition.
The season when you are silly enough to get married on a game day, during harvest, and the people who's kids you babysat for 20+ years ago drive 118 miles to be there. During harvest. That's big.
The same neighbor who gives your kids rides in the tractor during that endlessly busy season. The one who rounds up his brother, son and son-in-law to spend the better portion of a day cleaning up storm and tornado damage because its the nice and neighborly and Christian thing to do. Because it would have taken my parents and me weeks to accomplish with our little chain saw and four-wheeler and trailer what they did in hours.
That, THAT is what "home, home" is about.
This is the place I love. The dirt roads I love to drive down with the windows open. The creek beds and wooded back yard I love to explore. The old barn with a hayloft I love so much.
The "home, home" with a deck that opens up to the most beautiful view I've ever known. A view of a grand front yard, the pond, the fields and the country church at the top of the hill.
It is the place I long for, day and night. It is the place I love to be and never want to leave.
It is "home, home".
**************
What is it that catches your breath? Makes you stop? Makes you, YOU. What ties you to your roots?
My blog title says it all. That's who I am. That's what catches my breath, makes me stop, and made me, ME. I am a country girl. I love a good afternoon of muddin' in the river with my husband...
or a quick ride with my little girl...
There are so many lyrics to so many songs that hit a home-run to my heart. My husband picks on me for making our kids listen to country music all day. They sing along. No forcing required. Cassius requests Tim McGraw's, Meanwhile Back at Mama's on a daily basis. Ella can sing almost any song that comes through the speakers. And me? The one that catches my breath and takes me "home, home"?
This one.
Listen: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KxeocgQIj4Q
Read:
"Back Where I Come From"
Well in the town where I was raised,
the clock ticked and the cattle grazed
Time passed with amazing grace,
Back where I come from
You can lie on a river bank,
paint your name on a water tank
Miscount all the beers you drank,
Back where I come from [Chorus]
Back where I come from
Where I'll be when its said and done
I'm proud as anyone
That's where I come from
We learned in Sunday school,
who made the sun shine through
I know who made the moon shine too,
Back where I come from
Blue eyes on a Saturday night,
tan legs in the broad daylight
TV's they were black and white,
Back where I come from [Chorus]
Back where I come from
Where I'll be when its said and done
I'm proud as anyone
That's where I come from
Some say it's a backward place,
narrow minds on a narrow wage
But I make it a point to say,
that's where I come from [Chorus]
Back where I come from
Where I'll be when its said and done
I'm proud as anyone
That's where I come from
That's where I come from
I'm an old Tennessean
Well I'm proud as anyone
That's where I come from
the clock ticked and the cattle grazed
Time passed with amazing grace,
Back where I come from
You can lie on a river bank,
paint your name on a water tank
Miscount all the beers you drank,
Back where I come from [Chorus]
Back where I come from
Where I'll be when its said and done
I'm proud as anyone
That's where I come from
We learned in Sunday school,
who made the sun shine through
I know who made the moon shine too,
Back where I come from
Blue eyes on a Saturday night,
tan legs in the broad daylight
TV's they were black and white,
Back where I come from [Chorus]
Back where I come from
Where I'll be when its said and done
I'm proud as anyone
That's where I come from
Some say it's a backward place,
narrow minds on a narrow wage
But I make it a point to say,
that's where I come from [Chorus]
Back where I come from
Where I'll be when its said and done
I'm proud as anyone
That's where I come from
That's where I come from
I'm an old Tennessean
Well I'm proud as anyone
That's where I come from
Thanks Kenny. Thanks for taking me "home, home" anytime I need to go.
Do you know what "home, home" is? My home is in the "city" now. We live in a small suburb of a city. There are cornfields in our 'hood. But "home, home". That's where you came from. That's who you ARE. At least for me it is. I love to go "home, home". My parents live in the same house they built when I was a baby.
Home.
The place you go and it "fits" just right.
Where everybody knows who you are. And who your parents are. And who your siblings are...
Where someone is always ready to help out.
Where when your daughter walks down the street people say "She looks JUST like you did when you were that age!!!" and they actually KNOW that she really and truly does. Really.
"Home, home" is the place where that little girl got to be Miss Poppy like her mom was twenty-some years ago. Where she got to sell poppies and collect the money for the veterans. Got to help put out flags and crosses at the cemetery in preparation for the Memorial Day Services. Got to be a part of something special and important and to learn.
Then she got to really have fun and ride on a float on a cold day in June in the annual Hampton Days Parade. Decorating the float, throwing out candy and waving to the crowd on a trailer behind grandpa's pickup. That's "home, home".
"Home, home" is where you go for...
(That's sweet corn on a tailgate, folks. Straight from the field,
ready for husking, washing, cooking, cutting and freezing.)
(That's my winter stash... you know you're jealous.)
People ask me, "how do you know how to ______?". That's how I was raised. I grew up doing those things. I learned to drive a tractor when I was probably 5 or 6. I had to. Someone had to drive it while the adults laid pipe.
I got yelled at while driving that tractor. Dad didn't like me driving over the corn. (say whaat?) He claims to not remember, but mom and I sure do. I also had to go shut the well off sometimes. In the dark. By myself.
Mom taught me to sew. Against my will. But now I can fix things, sew a simple outfit for Ella, piece and finish a simple quilt for my kids and reinforce baseball pants for my girlfriend's son.
Mom taught me to bake. I was a fully cooperative student on this one. I can make you a pie, cake, cookies, etc, from scratch. And I will love every second of it! Go ahead, ask.
You know what else all these life skills have taught me? To be independent.
Need a picture hung? Go get a hammer, a nail, find a stud and (channel your best Dan Whitney) get 'er done, girl.
Need food for an event? Make something. And be proud of it.
I want my kids to be independent. I want them to know how to do things for themselves without being babied and having their hands held all the time. To be tough, gentle, respectful and honest. To relax and take it all in.
To just be.
Mom taught me to sew. Against my will. But now I can fix things, sew a simple outfit for Ella, piece and finish a simple quilt for my kids and reinforce baseball pants for my girlfriend's son.
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| That's Cassius' quilt top prior to finishing it... which I did! |
Mom taught me to bake. I was a fully cooperative student on this one. I can make you a pie, cake, cookies, etc, from scratch. And I will love every second of it! Go ahead, ask.
Dad taught me how to use a drill, a chainsaw, a hammer and a gun. I can still use all of the above. He taught me how to drive the old white pickup in the field after harvest.
You know what else all these life skills have taught me? To be independent.
Need a picture hung? Go get a hammer, a nail, find a stud and (channel your best Dan Whitney) get 'er done, girl.
Need food for an event? Make something. And be proud of it.
I want my kids to be independent. I want them to know how to do things for themselves without being babied and having their hands held all the time. To be tough, gentle, respectful and honest. To relax and take it all in.
To just be.
This one here? She knows how to "just be". She's my first farm kid.
Fishing? Loves it. The nightcrawlers part? No problem. She'll take you right into True Value, straight to the cooler and pick out her box, then dig out the one that's just perfect for catching a "big mouth".
Construction? Pshhh. She's in the shop with grandpa building a birdhouse or making his woodcut heart into a ladybug.
Gardening? Chhhheeeeckkkk! She'll water any plant that needs it and a few that don't, check on the beans, tomatoes, apples, currants and taste-test the raspberries for you.
#2 there in the river? He's getting it too. Farm fever. Rock piles, tractors, four-wheelers and dirt. He's into it. Someone (protecting the not-so-innocent here by omitting a grand-parental name) thought it a grand idea to teach the littlest how to start the 4-wheeler at a particularly dangerous age. (Let's say 18 mos.) Yes, the brake is on, the 'wheeler in neutral, etc.
So for years we could predict with 100% certainty the first words/actions of our son upon his arrival at Grand's. Now we just hide the keys. He's far too good at figuring things out for a kid that is creeping up on year number four.
I want them to realize how special it is to be able to go to Grandpa and Grandma's house and just run and play outside. Totally throwing caution to the wind. Because in the city you don't go outside to play by yourself without asking and having someone keep one eye on you at all times. But at the Grand's house? Go for it kid! Go explore. Show me what you find. Enjoy life the way I believe God intended it to be enjoyed.
Slip on that slip-n-slide...
Learn to drive your first "vehicle"...
For me there's nothing more enjoyable than spending a nice weekend or longer at my parent's house. That image of my kids on the 2014 version of a slip-n-slide? Heaven. For all of us. I picked and tipped beans for canning while they played and played and played... they were so happy for HOURS!
I know, you can get this in the city too. But to me setting up the slip-n-slide in the backyard in the city isn't the same. There's room to breath out here. There's a sense of safety. There is peace and quiet. Calm. You can hear the birds singing, turkeys come visit the ground below the bird feeders. Deer wander into the yard during dawn and dusk. The coyotes come out to howl at the moon while the people gaze at an expanse of sky that is truly magnificent.
Seriously.
middle of nowhere
That's my heaven on earth.
Ecclesiastes Chatper 3 says:
There is a time for everything,
and a season for every activity under the heavens...
and a season for every activity under the heavens...
9 What do workers gain from their toil?
10 I have seen the burden God has laid on the human race.
11 He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the human heart; yet no one can fathom what God has done from beginning to end.
12 I know that there is nothing better for people than to be happy and to do good while they live.
13 That each of them may eat and drink, and find satisfaction in all their toil—this is the gift of God.
Everyone has a favorite season.
Spring comes to mind. Sunshine, fresh air, warmer temps and the visibility of God's promise of new life. A release from the cabin fever of winter. Freshly plowed fields.
Summer is on the list too. Lake time. River time. Fishing, swimming, hanging outside with friends. Cold beer on hot days and nights.
Winter. That one comes in a distant fourth. Dead last in my book. (At least as a resident of Nebraska.) I do love the first fresh snow. From inside my warm house with a cup of hot cocoa.
I love the changes of season. Especially the other one. The transition to fall is like nothing else. I don't know how fall looks to you, but at "home,home" it looks just like this...
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| Photo Courtesy of Ediger Simmental |
And it is magnificent.
There are beautiful leaves on trees and pumpkins and crisp air. Combines and grain trucks. Lines at the elevators. Chaff in the air and shredders in the fields and blue skies as far as the eye can see. And Saturdays where everyone's facebook status says GBR!!!
This is the season where those words from Ecclesiastes come to life.
9 What do workers gain from their toil?
12 I know that there is nothing better for people than to be happy and to do good while they live.
13 That each of them may eat and drink, and find satisfaction in all their toil—this is the gift of God.
The season where the farmers toil harder than ever. Earlier than early mornings and later than late nights. Missed events. Meals in tractors and on tailgates. The season where the labor of the winter in the machine shed, spring and summer in the fields, comes to fruition.
The season when you are silly enough to get married on a game day, during harvest, and the people who's kids you babysat for 20+ years ago drive 118 miles to be there. During harvest. That's big.
The same neighbor who gives your kids rides in the tractor during that endlessly busy season. The one who rounds up his brother, son and son-in-law to spend the better portion of a day cleaning up storm and tornado damage because its the nice and neighborly and Christian thing to do. Because it would have taken my parents and me weeks to accomplish with our little chain saw and four-wheeler and trailer what they did in hours.
That, THAT is what "home, home" is about.
This is the place I love. The dirt roads I love to drive down with the windows open. The creek beds and wooded back yard I love to explore. The old barn with a hayloft I love so much.
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| Photo Courtesy of Kat Hannemann Photography http://www.khphotos.net/ |
The "home, home" with a deck that opens up to the most beautiful view I've ever known. A view of a grand front yard, the pond, the fields and the country church at the top of the hill.
It is the place I long for, day and night. It is the place I love to be and never want to leave.
It is "home, home".
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