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.

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.

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.

Modesty Myth

Yesterday, running errands with a colleague the subject of tattoos came up as we watched droves of young girls walk through the retail store with tattoos covering more surface area than the ads at the local mall. I told him that in my younger days, I thought about getting one something small and unassuming - seemed like the thing to do at the time, but I could never decide on one symbol that summed me up, one symbol that I wanted on my body forever. And I told him that as I got older, I could see how men might view tattoos on women as suggestive.

He told me that it was alluring, those tattoos that peek out from clothing. They are kind of trashy, he said honestly. My husband agrees. It was one of the first things that he asked me. "Do you have any tattoos?" He was relieved when I told him no.

When you’re young, modesty protects innocence, but when you’re older it protects profound connections. Modesty prevents us from being vulnerable with the wrong people. It also protects deep, erotic connections between the right people. Consider kind David who saw Bathsheba washing, lusted after her, committed adultery with her, fathered a child, murdered her husband, and brought much misery upon himself and the nation (2 Samuel 11:2-5).

Today, this generation of twenty-somethings are taught that meaningful, long-term relationships with one person that eventually culminate in marriage and sex aren't realistic, but that it's ok to have casual hookups, where you meet a person at a party, have sex, and then never see the person again. That fact people get drunk before they "do it" is significant—it’s a concession to modesty. So we have to drug ourselves in order to pretend otherwise. Look circumstances that surround the current twenty-somethings who frequent the tabloid news.

Modesty is about the opposite of prudery. Neither the promiscuous person nor the prude can be moved or touched by anything. The modest person can be moved by something and wants to be moved by something in the right circumstances. Modesty communicates so much about how a person feels about themselves. One who recognizes their own strengths and weaknesses who has become comfortable with him or herself will feel no competition with others and how they expect to be treated by others. Modesty presupposes certain standards. In this day, where underwear has become outerwear for both genders, these reminders of modesty also apply to men like no other time in history.

As I get dressed, I evaluate what I plan to wear based on my roles for the day: mom, business meeting, church go-er... And I try to wear items that will make it easier for the men in my company to treat me with dignity and respect. And I know that goes far deeper than just clothing.

The inward spiritual adornment is more precious and more effective than outward physical adorning.

1 Peter 3:3 "Whose adorning let it not be that outward adorning of plaiting the hair, and of wearing of gold, or of putting on of apparel."

1 Timothy 2:9-10 "In like manner also, that women adorn themselves in modest apparel, with shamefacedness and sobriety; not with broided hair, or gold, or pearls, or costly array; But (which becometh women professing godliness) with good works"

Colossians 3:12 "Since God chose you to be the holy people whom he loves, you must clothe yourselves with tenderhearted mercy, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience."

And The Men

want back in:all the Dougs and the Michaels, the Travis’s, the Erics and Josés,

they're standing by the off-ramp of the interstate

holding up cardboard signs that say WILL WORK FOR RELATIONSHIP.

Their love-mobiles are rusty.

Their Shaggin' Wagons are up on cinderblocks.

They're reading self-help books and practicing abstinence,

taking out Personals ads that say

"Good listener would like to meet lesbian ladies, for purposes of friendship only."

In short, they've changed their minds,

the men:they want another shot at the collaborative enterprise.

Want to do fifty-fifty housework and childcare;

They want commitment renewal weekends and couples therapy.

Because being a man was finally too sad—In spite of the perks, the lifetime membership benefits.

And it got old,telling the joke about the hooker and the priest

at the company barbeque, praising the vintage of the beer and

punching the shoulders of a bud

in a little overflow of homosocial bonhomie—Always holding the fear inside

like a tipsy glass of water—Now they're ready to talk, really talk about their feelings,

in fact they're ready to make you sick with revelations of

their vulnerability—A pool of testosterone is spreading from around their feet,

it's draining out of them like radiator fluid,

like history, like an experiment that failed.

So here they come on their hands and knees, the men:

Here they come. They're really beaten. No tricks this time.

No fine print.

Please, they're begging you. Look out.