Little girl with black eyes

My little girl tried to do a back flip in a pool. She didn't get out far enough and hit her head. She had a huge goose egg and otherwise ok, except these black eyes.

People keep giving the stink eye when they notice.  Our little girl told one man, "it may look bad, but you should see the other guy!"

Life is What You Make it

My grandfather, we call him Gramps, will be 90 years old in May, but this week his doctor recommended hospice care. A few months ago we were told that his cancer was back, but it was too far gone and he was too weak to progress with any kind of treatment. After getting choked often while eating, to the point of needing the Heimlich, he now has a feed tube - a port where his meals are poured out of a can into a tube and straight into his stomach - 5 times a day.

Through it all my grandmother has been there - for the hospital stays, the new treatment regimens, all of the visits to all of the doctors, and on the other end of the tube 5 times a day. She slept in their Volkswagen vanagon in the parking lot of the hospital in Amarillo the first time he had cancer, when they didn't know what he had, when they installed and when they fixed his defibrillator.

She was also at the coffee shop when my grandfather came in with his cousins the first time they met. She was there with his infant daughter when he got home from the war. She was there every night when he got home after work with his meal on the table and in the passengers seat as they explored all of the 50 states. She was there when they welcomed 2 daughters, 4 grand kids, and to date 6 great-grand kids.

During his last stay in the hospital some of her former students from more than 30 years ago approached her in the hallway and reminded her of their favorite thing about her class. She taught a Zig Ziglar "I Can"course and at the beginning of each class they would do a cheer saying, "Act Enthusiastic and You'll Be Enthusiastic!" They would all chant in unison three times before each class. The irony of lyrically repeating THAT phrase outside her partner of more than 60 years hospital room... but sometimes it's true.

You can succumb to what life hands you - growing up with an alcoholic, abusive father or dealing with the passing of your mother as a young boy - or you can choose to live a beautiful life, to leave a legacy, to be there.

Every day that the sun comes up, you have to purpose to make it a great day. Do the best you have with what you're given and live to make your memories part of your happiness.

Love New Family

My sister found out this week that she's having a girl. We really already knew, but it was nice to have pictures to back it up!

Side Story: My dad was having morning sickness right along with my sister. He was sick when my mom was pregnant with both of us and when I was preganat with my girl, but not when I was pregnant with my 3 boys... go figure

We are really excited about another girl. My daughter says we already have a boy cousin so now it's time for a girl sister cousin... she's right.

But those boys are just too cute and they love each other so much!

I Spy a GREAT Party

I really enjoy party planning. I REALLY enjoy celebrating my children. And birthday parties are a great time for me to get to do both!

Preston's 6th Birthday Party was too much fun - 25 kindergarten boys playing spy games at our first ever Spy Academy was more fun... we made secret messages in invisable ink, made up spy names, got in our secret spy costumes, played with "bombs"... it was an action packed party!

Before the party we asked our birthday guy if he'd worn 5 completely out, done everything that he wanted to do as a 5 year old, made the most of every day of 5. He said, "yea." I think that our nostalgia was a little lost, but he got the idea.
We made a great memory for our little guy.

Merry Christmas from the Medleys

Going Green and Emailing the Christmas Letter... enjoy!

From the first coin toss of the year, we kept our eye on the end zone, coaching our little players and cheering every play...

We welcomed a new 9lb 7oz rookie to the team in April—Trenton Todd (#4) is fitting into the team quite nicely. His first season will be complete April 6th. Not long after the initial snap at school, I was on the sidelines watching Clayton (#1) go in for a touchdown at kindergarten graduation. This fall he played his first season of flag football. After finishing a stellar 3rd season at Parents Day Out Preston (#2) became a free agent and was picked up by Shallowater’s Pre-Kindergarten in August. In the red zone of summer, Clayton and Preston played baseball - Clayton played on 3 teams! So as not to cause a personal foul, Addison (#3) took a dance class too and mostly stayed in the pocket to avoid being sacked. She also played her first season of soccer on a team with Preston.

Always quick on the return, Billy is always my MVP, running car pool, fixing everything from appliances to boo boos, and keeping the team morale high. Watching the play clock run out on the year, we are thankful for fans who stick with us calling audibles, running out of bounds, intentionally grounding at times.

So here’s to the extra point and another season full of plays worthy of the highlight reel!

Billy and Heather Medley— Clayton, Preston, Addison and Trenton

Weekend Update

Make a Smilebox scrapbook

Last Week was a Month Long

Monday was our 7 year anniversary. we are used to being busy, it's true. Seven years and our oldest is 6. We are expecting our 4th - we are used to being busy.

Monday...well, we should start with last Friday because that is the day that Preston had his tonsils out. Makes for a long weekend. But we went to the movies to keep everyone entertained and we played game at home. Sunday, Preston looked at us like we were crazy when we asked him if he'd just like to stay at home and cuddle. "No, it's church day," he said. So we went. Then we had a small group meal together that night.

Monday Billy ran to the office, we got Clay off to school, Addy to Parents Day Out and with Preston in tow, I caught up to Billy for a "romantic" Anniversary Breakfast - can anything be romantic over grits, really? Billy dropped Preston off with my grandparents, recently back in the States from a European Cruise down the Danube for their anniversary and I rushed to the OBY/GN office for our sonogram appointment.

Billy got there a few minutes before we were called back and as I was laying there trying to look an images of our new little one, Billy and the sonographer talk shop - science, genetics, game boys even. Guess if you talk to chicks all day you make the most of a conversation with a man anytime you can.

After we learned that #4 is a boy and realized we better get to thinking of some boy names, Billy head out to El Paso for the week and I went to love on my Preston, look at my grandmothers trip photos and eat chicken nuggets with my granddad.

That night we got a last minute call to come eat with my ex-uncle, I guess that what he is. So I ate enchiladas, tried to help Preston find something he could eat, corral Addison and chat with Clay about his day and visit with my family. Billy went to Outback Steakhouse in El Paso by himself - how romantic - what an anniversary!

The week went on with pain medication every 4 hours -and all night long too - an antibiotic twice a day...and Popsicles and new bunk beds and laundry and dishes and homework....

Thursday we had a luncheon at work. I was running about an hour late that morning. Couldn't get a hold of Billy. I was bringing a side dish and a turkey. I forgot the turkey at home and had to go back to get it. On the way I got a call from George, Billy's boss.

"Billy's fine," he starts...
no, he's not or you would be calling me, I'm thinking. And a million horrible things run through my head. I knew we didn't have enough life insurance!
"There's been a car accident."
Ha, I knew he wasn't fine. And even if he is, he's not going to be!

I still couldn't get a hold of him. I called Ann at the church to ask our church family to pray. I didn't know much about what had happened, but I know prayer works. When I did get a hold of Billy he was on the way to the ER and told me the car was totaled. Someone pulled out in front of him. They t-boned. Air bags went off. He was sick to his stomach. Shoulders hurt. I was too far away. Helpless.

I told a few people, a few emailed after they got the prayer request via email, but I really couldn't talk about it. The possibilities were just too real. All the what if's crowded my thoughts. I cried at my desk hoping no one came in my office. But I didn't want to leave. What else would I do all day? At least I was occupied.

Before we could even talk about options, George sent someone down to help Billy so that they could finish the job and then come back to Lubbock together. Finish the job? I want him home now!

Finally when Billy walked through the door on Friday night, anniversary grits and sleepless nights of tonsil medicines didn't seem to be that big of a deal anymore. He was home and that was ok.

God's Economy or We Met the Veggie Tales

Don't you just love God's economy? You give it away and it comes back to you - 10 fold it seems. The Law of Sowing and Reaping. It works.

For example, my little sisters best friend from high school (follow that?) gave me some of her maternity clothes, but I'd loaned her mine at Heidi 's wedding - the weekend we got pregnant with Addison - who knew?

Plus, this weekend she gave us toys, a jumper, and some baby cereal too. Instead of holding onto the entire bag full of unopened cereal for the next 7+ months and trying to find a place to store it, I gave it to the ladies at Parents Day Out where my children go twice a week to use with the kids there, to share with the other parents, etc. As I was walking out the door that morning the lady at the front desk commented that I had ulterior motives - that I knew God would return to me what I gave away.

I do know that!

I got an email this week about a local Christian Radio Station needing volunteers to help with a Veggie Tales Live Event that was in town. I called and told them I could help during the 3PM show, but that I had tickets to bring my kids to the 7PM show. It was a great afternoon. I took photos, passed out free stuff, signed folks up for a drawing....not much different than what I do at my day job really. After the show I rushed to pick up Clayton and we went straight back to the church where the Veggies were so that we could get in the first come first serve line - to get better seats. My mom was going to come about 30 minutes later with the little one and Billy was working on getting over there from taking care of his dad. I was really sort of in a panic hurrying to get the best seats I could. I would have to find 6 all together.

I should have known that the one who loves me best already had it all worked out for me. As Clay and I walked in to give the gals our tickets, the lady I volunteered for earlier that day was standing right there and told me that the seats in the middle of the front row were roped off for us. The best seats in the house! I was amazed. God knew and already had it worked out.

The kids had room to dance and chase bubbles and interact with the characters on stage. It was a truly memorable night. Watching them sing every word to the songs, praising God and being silly was a blessing.

And to make things even sweeter, during intermission they were giving away Meet and Greet passes for after the show to folks who could answer Veggie Trivia Questions. Guess who won? Billy! So we all got to go shake hands and hug on Bob and Larry after the show.

Is my God good, or what?

Oh Yes

And baby makes six.

It starts out awkward, peeing on a stick and then showing to others, and just keeps getting weirder as 40 weeks inches across your midsection. Sickness. Exhaustion. Your body's not your own. Heartburn. Swollen feet. Bathroom breaks. Bursts of Energy. Rushes of Emotion. Anxiety. You're not yourself. Strangers talk to you and share personal stories. Family gathers around to watch your belly.

This one will be number four at the Medley House. We are joking about calling the baby "Lastin" because it will be the Last one.

Billy is elated. He's probably already called to tell you.

Clayton has decided that the baby can sleep in his room and he thinks that he would like to help "wash it" and "maybe feed it sometimes."

Preston wants a tiny baby. Like mustard seed tiny according to his hand motions.

When I asked Addy where the baby was going to sleep, she said "in a cage." We'll keep an eye on that one for sure.

I'm not sure how I feel now. It's a new adventure - that's for sure. I thought that I was done. Four seems overwhelming at this point, but then again I just took three to Wal-Mart...Wal-Mart can be overwhelming when I'm by myself.

Nevertheless, he we go again!

Our First Kindergartener

He started school this morning, And he seemed so very big.As I walked there beside him

In the Kindergarten hall.

And as he took his place beside

the others in the class,

I realized how all too soon

Those first few years can pass.

Remembering, I saw him as

He first learned how to walk.

The words that we alone made out

When he began to talk.

This little man so much absorbed

In learning how to write.

It seems as though he must have grown

To boyhood overnight.

My eyes were blurred but hastily

I brushed the tears away

Lest by some word or sign of mine

mar his first big day

Oh how I longed to stay

And take him by the hand

To lead him through the places

That he couldn't understand.

And something closely kin to fear

Was mingled with my pride.

I knew he would no longer be

A baby by my side.

But he must have his chance to live,

To work problems out,

The privilege to grow and learn

What life is all about.

And I must share my little man

With friends and work and play;

he's not a baby anymore --he's in Kindergarten today.

Book Club: Big Russ and Me

My sister and I are on our third book club book with our dad. Since we are reading Tim Russerts book about his father in our book club, here are a few questions:

Thinking about the whole book:

1. Big Russ and Me can be considered a collection of anecdotes. Did you have a favorite story? Why? Did it remind you of personal stories about your father or your upbringing?

2. It is implied throughout this book that the values of the 1950's and 1960's should be incorporated in our contemporary culture. Do you agree? Do you think this is happening?

3. Big Russ represents good values and common sense. Do you think these are unique traits of his personality or are they a reflection of his generation?

4. Russert takes pride in his city of origin: Buffalo, New York. Do you think his stories would be as interesting if they were set in another city?

5. Russert speaks with pride about his Irish-Catholic heritage. Do you think the values that he refers to in the book are heritage specific?

6. What is the appeal of Big Russ and Me? Is it a rags-to-riches story? Is it the reminiscence of simpler times? Or, is it just entertainment?

7. Have you watched Tim Russert on NBC News or Meet The Press? If so, did you notice anything in his reporting style that reflects his upbringing?

8. Tim Russert died unexpectedly on June 13,2008. There was a sizable public response of tribute, mourning and loss. Which do you think most contributed to his popularity, his books or his TV personality?

9. Big Russ and Me inspired many readers to send their own stories to Tim Russert. Consequently, he published another book with those stories titled Wisdom of Our Fathers: Lessons and Letters From Daughters and Sons.

My Inheritance

This weekend my mom, sister and I went to San Antonio for a girls weekend with Beth Moore - and boy was it incredible!

Thinking about where you are and where you're going...you have to decide - to choose if one is going to affect the other. If we are join heirs with Christ and his inheritance is the same as ours in Gods economy - I have a beautiful inheritance!

Psalms 16:5 The LORD is(F) my chosen portion and my(G) cup; you hold my(H) lot.6(I) The lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; indeed, I have a beautiful inheritance.

Sitting next to my mother and my sister, thinking about my inheritance in temporal ways, I was quite impressed to think about all of those things that I have inherited from the two ladies that I have spend more time with than any others - faithfulness, humor, loyality. They are pretty impressive women.

Heidi, my sister, was the spotlight Siesta on the Siesta Fiesta Blog. She is just amazing.

Spending time in the word with Bible Teacher, Beth Moore was incredible, and building memories with my favorite Siesta's was priceless.

Travelin' Man

Have you ever seen that AT&T wireless commercial — the one where the dad is always traveling and he takes along his daughter’s stuffed monkey. You know, the one where he takes pictures of the monkey while traveling and sends them to his wife and daughter? That is our reality quite a bit of the time. Billy is leaving again tomorrow.

While I know that our situation is not uncommon on the whole, it is among our circle of friends and family.
I typically get one of two reactions to our situation –
I don’t know how you do it. That would make me crazy! or
You’re so lucky! I wish my spouse traveled! Does he have any openings?

For the most part, our situation works for us (we make it work). Our time apart makes our time together even more precious and exciting. I like having alone time -whatever that means with 3 kids under 5. But I like doing things my own way. I have always been a very independent person, and I fancy myself a type of Super Mom, Wonder Woman. I can fix minor electrical problems. If there is a plumbing leak I could probably find the source and remedy it. I’ll haul and move heavy objects — and don’t you dare tell me I can’t. I’ll mow the lawn and shovel dirt. I can chase kids and play at the park and then slip on a dress with heels for a business meeting. I can multi-task and take care of myself, my husband, my career, our kids and home. I take care of the logistics of our life. And while I can get overwhelmed at times, I think I really thrive on it.

As time drudges on, at times I get a little uneasy. How will my husband’s hectic traveling schedule continue to fit into our family life as the kids get older and busier? And more importantly, how will I stop myself from resenting him? He gets to leave town, sleep in a quiet hotel, dine on the company’s dollar, and worry about taking care of no one but himself. All the while I am up to my hips in laundry, with dished falling out of the sink, two want juice the other's ready to go outside and play, I'm covered in almost every bodily fluid imaginable...It gets a little hectic.

The only other couple that I personally know with a situation similar to ours has not faired well. There has been infidelity, a complete breakdown of communication, and the traveling spouse has a less-than envious relationship with their children. I know I have an amazing husband — kind, sensitive, supportive, and hard-working. He loves our children and we have continued to work at making our relationship wonderful. There are HUGE differences between us and this other couple, but it has to make you wonder how much affect a traveling spouse has on a marriage and family.

Military families do it all the time. We were watching the new PBS documentary, "Carrier," last night where moms and dads aboard an aircraft carrier talked about being away from home. They said that being gone and coming back into the routine are both hard.

To make the being gone and the coming home easier, I think that I am going to take more photos/video to send to him while he's gone. We will keep setting a place for him at the table when he's gone; I think that the kids like that. We may even see if we can do a webcam so that he can still read to them at night.

I think that knowing he'd rather be at home makes him leaving a little less painful for us all.

Today I Love My Job or The Middle Child

Today I stayed home with the little ones. My mom, who usually watches them on Tuesdays went to be with my grandparents out of town.

About the third time that Billy called this morning with his usual, "What's going on?" I told him, "Nothing. Still Nothing." But of course, every mother knows it's just the usual. I made breakfast, cleaned up, did laundry, dishes, vacuumed, played, colored, cleaned up again. Then it was time to make lunch and clean the kitchen all over again.

Even in the face of the raging Mom War, I have always known that I wanted to keep working outside the home after I had kids. I know that no matter what choice a mom makes - to stay at home or to go to work - the best thing for a child is a happy mom. By the time I saw Billy this afternoon, I was not a happy mom.

We went to Wal-Mart.

Addison was asleep when we pulled up to the store, but she was really compliant about getting up and at 'em. The kids wanted to ride in one of the carts with the seats for children that face each other. Fine. One can go in the basket and the other two sit in the seats. But as soon as we gathered our fresh fruits and vegetables and were into the meat section, Clayton declared he had to "go" bad. After making a plan to deviate from the planned Wal-Mart route, he decided that he could in fact "hold it." And we proceeded with our typical million questions, pestering of the siblings and asking for obscure items "because we've never had it before." As we made our way winding through the aisles, we played a sibling rivalry version of musical chairs asking to get in and out of the cart. All the while I am fumbling for coupons, trying to get the best deals, maneuvering my troupe to stay out of others way, and still playing the million questions game.

When we made our way back up to the front, Clayton took off running. He still had to go to the bathroom. But Preston and Addison followed him. So I abandoned the basket I'd just spent almost an hour filling to chase the line of little sprinters through the check out stands. I nabbed Addison, just in time to see the boys dart into the men's restroom. So I get in the check out line right in front of the restroom, so that I can wait and still be a little proactive. When they come out and before they look around to find me, they decided to get a drink at the water fountain. Great. But then they proceed to try and stick their heads under the water so that they can comb their hair forward like the "big guys." Yuck. So this time I leave my over flowing cart with my child in it to educate my children about etiquette at public drinking fountains.

Back in line I am ready for the final push from the troupes of the "Moma, can we have a..." but I stood strong and finally it was our turn to load up the belt with our bounty. Clayton was helping. Addison was handing things over. And Preston was still playing with the impulse buy items on the near by shelves. He went to examine the goods of the shelves over on the next aisle and I could hear him talking with his never-met-a-stranger banter. I was still unloading the goods, watching the kids, examining the totals, listening for the beep of the register as it scanned our loot. Billy called - instant multi-tasking overload. And I did a quick head count - I always take inventory when he calls. One... Two... Damn!

"I can't do this right now, Billy. I can't find all of your kids." Once again I leave my basket and dart out into the aisle, this time barking instructions at Clayton to stay with his sister. And a lady passing by says, "Are you looking for a little boy? He's at Customer Service" just as I hear my name over the loud speakers. She said, "He's crying." to which I replied, "Good." (You can start filling out your Mom of the Year Nomination forms at this point) I march down to the center of the store, thinking all the while, "He knows better. How'd he 'get lost' from one aisle over? That kid! ugh" And when he sees me he smiles a great big smile and says, "Hi, Mom!" and jumps off the counter top where he'd been charming the cashiers. As the ran to me, both the ladies in the blue vests said, "Bye, Preston."

I could have rung his little neck right there in front of the whole town. I lectured him all the way back to the check out where I'd ditched my other children. Clayton was screatching to make Addy laugh and the cashier was still checking things out. I told you the cart was over flowing. Clayton and I loaded what once fit into one cart into two to get it out of the store.

Pushing one cart, pulling the other, navigating my way through the other Wal-Mart coma induced shoppers, we made it to the front doors. Addison was in the child seat of the first basket. Clayton was patrolling the area. Preston was strapped into one of the double seats in the second cart. And a man behind the convoy told the kids, "That's a super mom!" And Preston, knowing the depths of his pending punishment, said "Yep, she's my mom!" I just smiled as the man followed us a few steps out the double doors telling the kids to be nice to their mother "because she's taking good care of you." Little did he know I lost them - twice! Threatened them. Ignored them. Gave into them more times than I want to admit.

At tee ball practice tonight, I told a few of the other parents what had happened on our shopping trip. And before I told them which kids had pulled the Houdini act on me, they already knew.

God bless mothers who take their brood to Wal-Mart

An Ordinary Life

During Bible college a professor took us to the synagogue for a service. It was a lesson in being "grafted in," a back to your roots kind of hands-on lesson. They were even going to have a cookies and punch reception for us afterwards. And this Saturday happened to be Holocaust Remembrance.

The Rabbi told a story about a hangman who moved into town and set up his gallows and on the first night he knocked on a the door of a house, took a man out and hanged him. The town people were horrified. And the next night the same thing. And the next. Until there was only one man left. The man cried out, "Why? Why are you doing this?" And the hangman replied, "because no one stopped me." And with that, he handed him.

It was on this day in 1943 that an uprising in the Warsaw Ghetto began. It was the largest ghetto uprising of World War II.

Hitler's army had invaded Poland in September of 1939. Warsaw was the last city in Poland to submit to the Nazis, but on September 27, after three weeks of resistance, the city finally surrendered. One Warsaw man wrote a chilling account in his diary, "All about us buildings lie in ruins. … If there is a Hell, this is it. [The] hospital was set afire. … The shrieks of those trapped in the flames could be heard for blocks around, even above the crash of shells and bombs."

Conditions only got worse. There were about 300,000 Jews in Warsaw to begin with, but thousands more Jewish refugees streamed in from smaller towns. On October 3, 1940, about a year after the invasion, the Nazis officially announced the establishment of the Warsaw Ghetto.

They built a wall around a section of the city measuring about 20 blocks by six blocks. Jews were given a month to move into the ghetto, and all non-Jews were ordered to leave. Jews had to leave almost all of their possessions in their homes, and many of the Poles who left the ghetto area moved into their old apartments.

Almost all of the Jews in Warsaw lost their jobs, and many of them went around collecting rags, bones, tin, and paper to sell to the Germans. Some worked in factories and shops set up by the Nazis. Others started trading on the black market.

In the winter, there were often fuel shortages, and not much gas and electricity. Pneumonia, influenza, bronchitis, and other diseases were common. Many people got frostbite, and some elderly people and children froze to death in their beds. The ground was so hard that graves had to be blasted out with dynamite. Fur coats, wood, and coal were smuggled in to keep people warm.

Eventually, small resistance groups began to pop up in the ghetto. One socialist group formed cells of five members each, so that the member only knew of the other four people in their cell. Underground newspapers were published in both Polish and Yiddish. The Nazis had confiscated almost all of the printing presses in the city, but people reconstructed presses from discarded machinery and printed the newspapers on paper they found in the trash. All the official schools were closed down, but secret schools were formed in basements and abandoned buildings. Professional musicians who had managed to keep their instruments began playing beautiful music on the streets. One survivor said they "turned Warsaw into a city of song."

In the summer of 1942, the Nazis began Operation Reinhard — the deportation of Jews from the Warsaw Ghetto to the concentration camp in Treblinka. From July to September, more than 300,000 Jews were deported, leaving only about 50,000 people in the ghetto. When reports of mass murder leaked back to the ghetto, a group of people, mostly young men, formed a resistance group called the Z.O.B. — which in Polish stood for Jewish Fighting Organization.
Members of the group began ambushing Nazi officials and stealing their weapons, and they got more weapons by smuggling them in from outside the ghetto. The leader of the group, a 23-year-old man named Mordecai Anielewicz, organized several underground factories for making grenades, bombs, and mines. He also supervised the creation of a chain of tunnels, trenches, and bunkers for people to hide out in.

In January of 1943, ghetto fighters opened fire on German troops as they tried to round up more people for deportation. The Nazis were forced to retreat and the Jewish fighters gained the confidence to go ahead with a bigger revolt. Then, on this day, April 19, 1943, the first day of Passover, hundreds of German soldiers entered the ghetto in rows of tanks, planning to destroy the ghetto in three days. But resistance fighters fought back with the guns and grenades they had been storing. Fighting went on for days; when they ran out of grenades the Jews fought with kitchen knives, chair legs —whatever they could get their hands on. They hid in their trenches and tunnels and in the sewers. They held out for almost a month, but on May 16 the revolt ended. Nazis burned down buildings, shot many of the remaining Jews, and sent the rest of them to concentration camps.

On the 45th anniversary of the uprising, a survivor named Irena Klepfisz said, "What we grieve for is not the loss of a grand vision, but rather the loss of common things, events and gestures. … Ordinariness is the most precious thing we struggle for, what the Jews of the Warsaw Ghetto fought for. Not noble causes or abstract theories. But the right to go on living with a sense of purpose and a sense of self-worth — an ordinary life."

Be blessed to live an ordinary life.

Marriage Battle

I once read that all weddings are happy. It’s the living together afterwards that causes all the trouble. I often feel as if my marriage has parachuted into the middle of enemy territory taking sniper fire from all sides. Other times it seems as if I am married to the enemy! Sometimes I am the enemy!

I had a co-worker tell me this week that it might be time for this marriage to end, like it was that easy. That really bothered me. I know, this world is not the friend of marriage. I was raised in a single parent home. But God is a friend of marriage; it was His idea! I know that we want a great marriages but we may feel as if the relationship has endured too much pain, that there is no hope. No matter where I am or where we've been in marriage, I belive the rest of our marriage can be the best part. Nothing is Impossible with God!

I have only been married for 6 years. And I can tell you, it's hard work. I'm not sure that we'd be at the place we are now without the supernatural work of God and certainly not without many tears, great pain and plain old hard work. Even before I met Billy I began learning truths about about marriage from watching others around me, but choosing commitment over comfort everyday is at the top of the list!

Truth: When the going gets tough, the tough stay right where they are!

A successful marriage requires commitment. The Spanish explorer, Cortes, insisted on total commitment from his men. They landed in Mexico planning to invade the land of the Aztecs. Sensing the fear of his crew Cortes gathered them all on shore and set fire to their ships. Turning to his men, Cortes explained, “Now there can be no turning back!” Marriage demands this level of commitment.

As much as I struggle with this I know this commitment also includes being submissive to your husband. Submission is a Godly heart attitude of reverence and respect; not the warped concept touted by the world. Are wives supposed to be silent partners, willing to follow blindly? Absolutely not! We are equal partners in the marriage relationship, sharing our hearts, using our talents and abilities while trusting God to work through our husband. Submission is the result of total faith in God. I was told one that the level of submission to our husband illustrates our level of submission to God. Will husbands make mistakes? Of course! But can God work through them? Yes! Submission then becomes a precious umbrella of protection and safety.

It seems that we live in a world of pre-packaged, disposable marriages. If it doesn’t work, we can simply throw the relationship away and find another! Some even start as recycled material. The result is pain and destruction that takes years of commitment and prayer to overcome. Commitment is not based upon changing, temporal feelings; feelings cannot build a solid marriage. Nowhere in the Bible does it say that love is the basis for marriage. It does say however, that marriage is the basis for love.

If you are hanging on in midst of a tough marriage let me encourage you that God is well aware of where you are! Someone once asked Napoleon to explain his bitter defeat at Waterloo. He responded, “The British didn’t win because they were better trained, larger or more equipped. They won because they fought five minutes longer!”

I sometimes wonder what battles we have lost because we gave up just a little too soon! Hold on! Hold on to your commitment to God and to your marriage! Because in marriages that really work, when the going gets tough, the tough stay right where they are!

When I was in junior high our youth pastors wife asked us to make a list of qualities that we wanted in a spouse. I thought it was corny, but as I grew in the Lord, I added to it, but never took anything off. And sometimes I get that list out to remind myself about the qualities that attracted me to Billy in the first place - and then I thank God for those traits in my husband. Now I'm going to go find Billy and thank him too.

Bucket List

Last night, at the suggestion of my great aunt, we watched the Prime Time Special highlighting Randy Pausch. Pausch, 47, has pancreatic cancer, a terminal disease. So far he has defied the odds, but the cancer has spread to his liver. His prognosis is poor.

Pausch, a professor at Pittsburgh's Carnegie Mellon University, isn't about dying, however. He's about living. Living for his wife and their three young children. Living a good life as long as he can.

Watching it I remembered reading Tuesdays with Morrie with my high school students. We talked about people who have made a profound difference in our lives—someone who changed our lives, made us think more deeply, set our feet on the right path. For some it was a teacher we met in a classroom, but it could just have easily been a coach, a youth group leader, a family or community elder, or religious leader. Then I asked my students to write a tribute to such a teacher, someone who has taught them an important lesson that they still remember.

The best lessons are the life lessons, you know.

Morrie didn't have to meet with his former student week after week and Pausch knew that he could cancel his "last lecture" but here's why he did it: "... by speaking, I knew I could put myself in a bottle that would one day wash up on the beach for my children, Dylan, Logan and Chloe..."

Isn't that why so many of us do the things that we do? Things that we don't want to do. We do them any way. Compelled by love.

Here were the life lessons of this lecture...

Always Have Fun

Dream Big

Ask for What You Want

Dare to Take a Risk

Look for the Best in Everybody

Make Time for what Matters

Let the Kids Be Themselves

In the course of this lecture he also shared some of his childhood dreams - some of which people have made come true for him. It made me think. I still have time. Where were my childhood dreams? I still have time to make those come true. What can I do today to help me realize those dreams?

So what are your childhood dreams?

We all know that death is eminent. Very few have ever esacped it. Virtually every one goes through it. It is a rare person who actually knows how much time they have left. My step-uncle - if there is such at thing - knows that he has less than a year. The doctors told him that yesterday. My own father was told 3 years ago that he'd be lucky to see another Christmas with the Conjestive Heart Failure he's got...time is precious.

What am I going to look back on when I hear my times up? How will I feel about the time I've spend? What life lessons will I have taught my children?

Write down five things that you would like to do during your life. Ask your loved ones to do the same and then share with each other. What can you do to help each other make those dreams come true?


A house is made of walls and beams; a home is built with love and dreams. Author Unknown

Unsinkable

It was on this day in 1912 that the R.M.S. Titanic departed Southampton, England, on its maiden voyage across the Atlantic. It was supposed to arrive in New York City on April 15th.

It was the biggest passenger ship ever built at the time at 882 feet long and 92 feet wide. Its hull had a capacity of more than four and a half million cubic feet. The Titanic is generally remembered as a luxury liner, but only 325 of the 2,224 people on board were traveling in first class. Many of the passengers were European immigrants hoping to start new lives in America.
On the fifth night of the ship's voyage, the weather was clear and windless. There was no moon. It had been an especially warm winter and many icebergs had broken off from glaciers farther north, so the lookout men had been told to keep an eye out for them. At about 11:40, one of the lookouts, Frederick Fleet, saw a huge dark object floating in the water in front of the ship. He yelled, "Iceberg right ahead," and rang an alarm bell. Many of the passengers awake that night later said that they felt a slight bump.

The sinking of the Titanic was one of the worst maritime disasters in history, and it has been a great inspiration to all kinds of artists. More than 500 songs were written about the disaster, most famously "It Was Sad When That Great Ship Went Down" by Pop Stoneman, with the lines, "Oh they threw the lifeboats out o'er the dark and stormy sea / The band struck up with 'Nearer My God to Thee' / Children wept and cried as the water rushed through the side / It was sad when that great ship went down." We used to sing that one at summer camp, echoing "oh it was sad, mighty bad" yelling. Never thinking about the words, the people. The disaster has also been the subject of more than a hundred books and at least a dozen movies.

One of my favorites is the 1964 movie where a fictional story of Margaret Tobin Brown, better know as The Unsinkable Molly Brown. Born and raised in wilderness, Molly left to Leadville to seek her fame and fortune, where she met Johnny Brown and the two found their fortunes in silver and gold mines. After striking it rich, they moved to Denver to mingle with the wealthy. However they do not receive the welcome mat from the high society of Denver so they head for Europe to improve their image. While in Europe, the Browns meet the "Crown Heads" of Europe and invite them to Denver. Only to end up in a huge scuffle that ends up in the sports page of the local paper. Johnny is fed up with this rich lifestyle and wants to return to Leadville. However, Molly wants to return to Europe. So the two go their separate ways. While in Europe, Molly begins to miss Johnny so she decides to travel back home on the infamous Titanic where Molly gains her nickname by her bravery through the disaster. When Molly meets Johnny back in Denver, the two make amends.

In the movie, Molly Brown decided not to be content with the circumstances that life dealt her. This week I met women at an area wide ladies function who choose not to be content with what life handed them either. Both have dealt with cancer, one helping her sister through brain cancer it and the other in the throws of breast cancer herself - and pregnant.

Monday started it all off with one huge challenge after another. The kids weren't getting around in the morning, couldn't even put their shoes on by themselves. Clayton was late to school. I was late to the orthodontist - even got pulled over for rolling through a stop sign even - in too much of a hurry ...once I finally got to work, it was discovered that we hadn't invited any students to the education class we were hosting the next day - shift to "Plan B." Billy was out of town for business half the week. We need a new roof and our air conditioner went out this week. We've already allocated our tax refund money about 6 different ways. I was feeling pretty defeated, pretty covered up by the circumstances - trying to dodge the icebergs.

But Thursday I heard the stories of these women, listened to them talk about their dealings with God, saw their joy amidst the waves. It's amazing how God places people in your path who lift your head to Him at just the right time. I was too worried about the sinking ship that I never saw the life boats, never trusted that He's already sent for help. And what if He's already moved the icebergs and the ships not sinking after all?

I want to weather the storm like Molly Brown, but I don't want to be counted as brave, just faithful.

a Family Birthday

Today Addison is 2 years old. She is a vibrant lover of life, a joy spreader with a contagious smile, a hugger, and a child with a playful personality. She is creative and imaginative. She is an explorer and a little nurturer.

And this week we celebrated all the things that she is - she loves life and those that love her get to share in that with her. Her birthday is a day to cheer that. We planned her party together for weeks, months maybe. She loves Veggie Tales so that was our theme. She helped me plant tomatos and cucumbers for party favors. She recounted her guest list for me the days before "my party day." She was excited and not for the presents; I'm not even sure that she knew gifts were part of the deal. She was excited because it was about her. We were celebrating Addy! We sang, "Happy Birthday to you" at least half a donzen times - and once it was even sung by the musican at the resturant!

Life is valuable, a gift.

I want her to remember that she is amazing. That she is worth the fuss of party planning. She was born with a destiny and a purpose, born to taste the grapes, to be a mountian mover and a lion slayer. One who can do all things through Christ who strengthens her.

Once a year we set aside a day to remember and remind her, that she is a gift - an absoutly amazing treasure!

Our Little Book Club

My Dad, who has congestive heart failure, saw Steve McKee one morning on the Today Show, sent my step-mother to buy his book for my sister and I, and invited us to join a "book club" with him. He told me that the book was about a guy whose dad had two heart attacks, died when he was like 16 and now he's got heart trouble too. "It's about family and heart disease," he said.

Since my sister and I spent our weekends at our dad's house growing up sitting on his couch watching TV, and just because he'd never asked us to do anything like this before, we jumped at the chance to create a book club.

We decided to read a chapter a week and talk on Sunday nights about what we read. Tonight was our second three-way call. First, we created a family tree chart to help us keep the characters straight and we talked about our dad's dad and his reaction to our grandma's death, a bit about my aunts funeral, and about the joy the authors mom had just spending time with her dad- even if it was a boxing matches and baseball games. So many similarities and connections between just being families. We are smaller in number, more southern in location, and exponentially shorter on detail, but sharing a knowing resemblance - just because it's the shared human experience of a family.

At the end of the second chapter, McKee says, "In the uncanny way the family generations spill one onto the next, revisiting, reinventing, repeating themselves, that's what happened." So as we read this book together as a family and talk about what it means, we are talking about those moments we want to replay for our own sprouting families and those that are better left alone.

So maybe it's taken awhile for us to move from the silence sitting on the couch to reading and talking to each other, but we are there now - and even though we just hung up the phone, I can't wait for next Sundays phone call.

From Steve McKee comes “My Father's Heart,” a memoir of a father-and-son relationship cut short by heart attack, and the powerful pull of love across the empty years. An excerpt:

About two years before the heart attack that killed him, I had told Dad in so many words that if he didn’t clean up his act, he’d be dead in five years. Quit the smoking, get some exercise, stop nailing himself to the cross of his job. We were sitting at the kitchen table, he and Mom and I. Kathy was away at school. Dad had already had one heart attack, in 1963, when he was forty-four. It had been such an obvious warning shot across the bow. How could he not have heard it, when I so clearly had? He looked straight at me and said, “You’re right.” I wanted to reach across the table, grab him by the collar of the white dress shirt he always wore to work, and shake him. All these years later, I still do.

Shake him for proving me right with years to spare. Shake him for the cigarette cough my sister Kathy and I woke up to every morning of our lives. For missing my high school and college graduations, my wedding in 1978. For not being here for me and my wife, Noreen, to share with him the baby, Patrick, that we adopted in 1990. And for Mom, the former Helen Theresa O’Neil of Seneca Parkside, for being his widow for thirty-seven years, fifteen years longer than she was his wife.