More Starlight

I used to live in Orlando. Whilst there, I ran around with the “College and Career” group at a church. After a couple of years, it boiled down to 3 girls and 3 guys, for the most part. One of the guys was obviously madly in love with one of the girls, and she was cautiously accepting the pursuit, so they got married.

Nothin’ like a little pressure. The rest (4) of us were in our mid-to-late 20s, never been married, had steady jobs. Of the 2 guys, one was obviously madly in love with God- he even taught Bible studies about the joys and benefits of being single.
I was pretty happy single, too- I had seen my parents’ marriage crash and burn after 22 years, and was able to travel, do a fulfilling job well, and grow friendships.

The couple in charge of the “College and Career” class, were very, very happily married. So happy, they wanted everyone else to have the same happiness. Not that they ever said anything aloud, but I look back now at some dinners where I was placed across from some single men, and I wonder…
If I had to get married, though, I sure wanted it to be a guy who loved God more than anything.

The other girl in the “Single Foursome” had chased the God-loving guy down to Orlando after college, where they had dated a little. But she also dated the Fourth Wheel. Her parents also expected her to get advantageously happily married.

After 4 years, Godly Guy courted and married the other girl. Couple In Charge didn’t let up on getting me married. I married Mr Wonderful about a year later, and cried a lot the first 4 or 5 years. OK, 8.

But I had said, “I do”, and I will. For better or worse, richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part. And it’s gotten better, little by little, year by year. (At this rate, we’ll be terribly happily married about a year before I get Alzheimers and he gets buried!)

It’s been 14 years. Mr Wonderful and I live in Georgia, they live in Orlando. We hear about each other through mutual friends, and wish each other well. Then, last month, her dad in Alabama got sick…

Godly Guy and The Other Girl came to visit last weekend. I was expecting Sucessful Ministering Couple, complete with Super-Holy Kids. (Their 3 are each born about 6 months before my 3.) I was happily disappointed. They were almost able to successfully deal with their 3 kids, and that was it.

Her age lines are on her forehead. Mine are at my eyes. One of us has been worrying, one laughing. My kids ended up teaching manners to hers. Godly Guy told Mr Wonderful that he’s always been a bit of a nerd, not the Superhero I’d imagined.

So many lessons. If I could go back in time, and had the choice, I guess I wouldn’t pick Godly Guy after all. I wouldn’t pick Mr Wonderful, either, frankly- I really was happily single. But Mr Wonderful does bring laughter and adventure to my life, and I’m liking him more and more.

My deep desire here in Real Time, however, is that my kids choose to pursue God, not Marriage, not Singleness, not Career. God. He’s the anchor in the trials of life, and the only One Who can heal and grow the deepest places in our hearts when every other person disappoints us.

She was looking for fulfillment from being married to Godly Guy. I was looking for fulfillment in my circumstances. Both of those are too weak to handle long-term Reality and give fulfillment. Only God, my children, can triumph over it all.

The Thanksgiving holiday was not as bad as I’d anticipated. I’m ready for some quiet, however, to chew over the lessons. (And everyone talks about chewing over the turkey!)

Justice is for the Other Guy

For me, I want mercy, thanks.

#1 came to me the day after Thanksgiving. “My bottom braces are broken.”

Great, there’s no way the orthodontist is open today. “Show Dad”, says I.

“It’s just that one of the brackets has slipped”, is his estimation. “It’s not poking her, no danger of a cut, just call the orthodontist Monday.”

OK, the orthodontist works out of his Far East Two Counties Away office on Mondays, I’ll call Tuesday (today). We manage to snag a 2:30 appointment.

Orthodontist’s assistant says the dreaded, “uh-oh” when she looks in #1’s mouth. The whole apparatus is broken, apparently. $182 to replace. Assistant calls doctor over to #1’s chair.

“Well,” considers he, “We were going to take it out in 3 months anyway, and her teeth don’t usually move, so let’s try just leaving it out. Watch her bottom incisors, keep the apparatus in a safe place, and if we need to fix it and put it back in, we can.”

“BTW”, he continues, “She can take out her retainer during the days now, too. Just make sure she puts it in to sleep at night.”

“#1″, I ask, “What were you doing that the bottom braces broke?”

“Chewing a lollipop”, admits she. “I just don’t know my limits.”

Orthodontist, assistant and I roll our eyes.

Let me get this straight: #1 chews something she knows she is not supposed to be within 10 feet of, breaks a $182 piece of equipment, and gets to have her braces taken off 3 months early and her retainer disappears when she’s in public, so she looks like a movie star instead of Ugly Betty? Where’s the punishment for doing wrong?

Oh, right, that’s my job! (Missed that part of the Mom Manual.) No sweets at all for a month. That sounds more like “justice”.

(Heaven help us, she’s got her daddy’s luck, #1 has…)

A Nice Holiday

Last week was nice. Normally I hate the word “nice”- it’s terribly overused, and a fallback excuse for not employing a more descriptive word. To me, it is especially insidious because it avoids the confrontation of things that should be cleaned.

I would much prefer that someone describe me as “blunt, but usually objective” than “nice”. I’d actually prefer that everyone describe me as “extremely likeable and attractive beyond human understanding”, but that’s unlikely, since it’s wildly inaccurate. But please, not “nice”.

For one reason, because “nice” means “tiny”, and I. am. not. But even by the modern usage, of “congenial”, “amiable”, or “not likely to cause me any irritation”, I. am. not. Most folks I know are not nice (unlikely to cause me any irritation), but I love ‘em anyway, just as they love/like me. Warts and all, as my dad used to say.

Last week was quite unusual for our family, and not something I would have volunteered to live through if I had a choice, but I didn’t get a vote, so I adjusted my attitude and went on. Amazingly, it wasn’t torturous. Certainly better than 8 days in a hospital, or attending a teenager’s funeral. Not as enjoyable as a day at Sea World with $200 spending money (after purchasing tickets), or watching a new Agatha Christie PBS movie.

I’m beginning to think the modern definition of “nice” isn’t “not likely to irritate”, but is actually “average”.

You certainly won’t find me using “nice” to mean “normal”, since our family threw that word out the window into the hurricane about the time the 18-wheeler destroyed our electric lines and left the other homes around us unscathed.

The holiday week included encounters with people who have irritated me tremendously on several occeassionns. My FIL, for example, who was a lamb the whole 48 hours he was here to check on #2’s recovery. FIL did pinch one of Mr Wonderful’s nerves, of course, but family is better able to do that, aren’t they?

Well, #2 is up and reading this as I type, so I’m going to follow my personal rule of “people trump machines” and log off and hold her a while. Back to you dear people later. Enjoy a cuppa this morning and be nice to each other until I get back, OK?

Star Light

I just can’t express how proud I am of #2. She has, with a tiny smile, sometimes taken advantage of people’s solicitousness over the past month. Usually, with a phrase Rootie taught her: “I am a delicate flower of the South”. We try to limit her taking advantage, though.

Emotionally, she’s doing great- no nightmares, making jokes, etc. She is looking to me for cues, which is a two-edged sword. I’m not the most socially adept person, nor the most healthy, emotionally. However, between advanced age and knowing my weakness, I’ve tried to learn social grace.

Last night we had dinner with the De’s, who were in the truck. Officially, we have forgiven them. Emotionally, I’m not mad at them- especially since they turned out to be GREAT people. (Oh, that Gina can cook! She’s Italian and makes it all from scratch- heaven! And they are both very, very funny people. Their boys are polite, etc, etc, etc.)

It was eerie to pull into the driveway and park next to the truck that hit my daughter. If she hadn’t been with me, I probably would’ve looked for blood on the front bumper. Can you spell “morbid fascination”? It was awkward- for me, I don’t think I showed it enough to embarass him- for Joe to tell me how happy he is with his truck- he’s only had it a couple of months.

I want to spend more time with them, for a lot of reasons. First, we do have a lot in common. Joe did his Master’s thesis on homeschooling, but they are both public school teachers. I’d love to read it, and get a fresh perspective and possibly avoid some socialization problems for my kids. I’d like to show them the local Christmas lights, and see their boys’ eyes get wide, and go to a soccer game to see their sons play.

We’ve invited them over for New Year’s Dinner- very German, very different from their usual. I hope they enjoy it as much as we enjoyed last night.

Whirr, whirr

My head is just spinning. We aren’t even having family over for Thanksgiving, or planning the traditional meal, or anything difficult. It’s all just catching up.

We’ve been off the Internet for almost a week- turns out the ethernet card was busted. Now we have Internet, and (for the first time in 6 months) our scanner works, but the sound is gone. Theory is, the sound card is busted, since the CPU doesn’t recognize it’s old friends the speakers anymore.

Mr Wonderful’s dad came for an impromptu visit. He needed to see that #2 is ok with his own two eyes. Turns out Mr Wonderful’s class needed the same thing, so we all spent the night at O’Charleys to prove she can eat like a regular 10-year-old. Oh, yeah- and Mr Wonderful got an A in the class, too.

We paid off the car this week. In about 18 days we’ll get the title, which we will promptly turn over the to insurance company of the woman who hit Mr Wonderful 4 days before #2’s accident. Said insurance company will promptly hand us a check for $3600 and the fun (I’m using that facetiously) of finding a reliable commute for Mr Wonderful will begin. Merry Christmas to you, too.

Did I mention we haven’t gotten down to LaGrange to replace the dishwasher by using the store credit Mr Wonderful earned by clowning at the Habitat ReStore there? Los kiddos are exchanging time off from a variety of homeschool subjects for housecleaning.

To sum up, there are just too many strangers in my life, IMO. A couple is coming from Orlando to visit. Serious history with this couple- they met me about 2 days after I became a Christian, but they went to the same college (where I was an extreme pagan). The college is 45 minutes from my house, and I’ve been back several times, to visit Rootie whilst she lived there, but they haven’t been back in 20 years or so. They want my family to go with them and their 3 kids. It boggles my mind how we will look at the same concrete, unchanged buildings and roads and traditions, and see through such different eyes.

‘Course, I may be beyond boggled at that point, since we are going to dinner at the De’s house Monday night. The De’s were the family whose truck hit #2. They live about 2 miles from us, have kids the same age, are both teachers like Mr Wonderful and I, volunteer at AWANA like we do. So we all agree we should be friends. Strange way to meet friends, wouldn’t you agree?

We’re taking chocolate cake with chocolate chips in the batter and chocolate icing, since that’s what I asked for. It’ll be my birthday, you see. (No, the De’s don’t know. It’s not about me.)

Dear God, I freely admit Your imagination is much, much bigger than mine. Logically, that means You could imagine my life even weirder- much weirder- than it is already this week. But please, please don’t.

About every other night I lay down about midnight and scenes of my beloved daughter, laying bleeding on the asphalt, rise up in my eyes. I cry quietly a little while, to not wake Mr Wonderful, who has to get up for work at 5, then I reach for my Father in heaven and fall wearily asleep.

Each night that happens, I also pray for my friend, whose son would’ve been 15 at the end of October, except he died of a gunshot wound in June. She found his body. My child is asleep in the next room, and will kiss me good morning in a few hours.

But God, please, please don’t.

Welcome to Autumn!

Must be Monday

Last night #3 saved our bacon. Mr Wonderful was moping that “We never spend time together as a family”. At #3’s suggestion (I hadn’t even remembered we own a set) we played Cranium. What a blast! #1 (artsy) and #2 (wordy) were paired together (along with Mr Wonderful) and learned to appreciate each other’s strengths a bit more. #3 and I laughed so hard we bumped heads- but just a little- and won. Thanks, #3- next time I’ll make popcorn, too!

Today we have to go back to the hospital for #2. The enterologist’s office is next door. (We have to go back again for the neurologist next Monday.)(No, they wouldn’t schedule the appointments on the same day. I’m chalking it up to “stimulating the economy”.)
I’m very, very much looking forward to taking a side trip back up to ICU to say “Thanks again” to the staff there, and to letting the kids play in the ground-floor playplace, walk the garden, browse the library, and visit the chapel. (This hospital is almost as fun as Disneyland!) Wish I had an alarm clock on my watch, though- I’d hate to miss the appointment for the fun!

I do already have the alarm clock at home set for midnight- we’re going to go out on the back porch and watch the Leonid meteor shower. Supposed to be the best one this century. Are you going to catch it?

Tuesday is a 7:30 doctor appointment for #2- I’ll probably leave #1 and #3 to sleep at home- and Mom’s Night Out at the coffeeshop on the square. Night driving has become an issue for my old eyes, so I’m glad we live only 3 miles away. I actually have an excuse to be on Facebook Tuesday night- I catch up with a young lady for Bible talk at 10.

Wednesday-Thursday is the usual whirlwind of AWANA and teaching. We’re covering Edgar Allen Poe in AmLit, and I recommend you read “Fall of the House of Usher” if you haven’t already. That is one spooky guy!
In AmLit, we not only have weekly short readings but assignments of greater depth that span several weeks. We’re about to cover Uncle Tom’s Cabin (yes, I’ll have tissues in my purse). In a nice piece of irony, my English classes are beginning To Sir, With Love. Wonder what I’ll learn about the history of racial prejudice in English-speaking societies?

Friday we (5) are supposed to go to Home Group at the M Boys’ House (7). So are the AWANA leaders (3), the Newlyweds (2), the JV Leaders (4), the M Boys’ cousins (4), the ChimneySweeps (4). Since our church only has 3 home groups, and the other 2 aren’t able to easily accomodate families with young kids, we’ve invited the Minnesotans (6) and the New Family at Church (4?). Am I the only person who can do the math here? 39 people in one family’s living room for “Bible study”? Do you realize 39 people would be considered a mid-size Protestant church in modern Europe??
I am begging God to let me take everyone aged 8-15 to another part of the house (there’s a finished basement) for an age-appropriate study of our own. Last time, they all snuck off at various points in the discussion, anyway…. but the Bible study leader says the kiddos “get something from the discussion each time, so they should stay with the adults”. Mr Wonderful and I are ready to leave the Home Group. I’m tired of pretending it’s fellowship when it’s really social networking for everyone in our family. Yep, I’m that picky about spiritual things.

I’ll be on the blog and Facebook, no matter how busy the week gets- unless we lose power! See ya later!

1, 2, 3, Awww!

#1 is not feeling well this morning. I’m not, either, so we’re staying home.

It’s ok- #1 has always enjoyed planning parties. Today she’s starting with a big Pity Party.

Altogether now: 1, 2, 3…

Bittersweet

I’m so old now I wear reading glasses on top of my contact lenses. I have the glasses on a “granny chain” around my neck, so I can pull the glasses off as I walk around the house.
If I wear them while walking, I get a little sea-sick. If I put them down before I start walking, I invariably need them whereever I stop.

Anyway, this morning I was making Oatmeal Bars for Monday’s breakfast, and had my glasses around my neck. Thought I knew the recipe, donchaknow.

All the ingredients went in, in the proper amounts, and were mixed thoroughly. It was only when I was putting away the containers that I realized I had mistaken the bottle of Kahlua for the vanilla….

Up For Air

Most of the laundry is done.
Most of the dishes are done.
Most of my mind is gone.

The Great Mommy Chauffer years have officially begun. #1 has to be at church Saturday afternoon to make spaghetti sauce and brownies- the Youth are hosting a Spaghetti Lunch Sunday to promote their Summer Missions Trip to Wyoming. #1 will finish at 4.

#3 has to be at his AWANA leader’s house (with Mr Wonderful) for a cook-out Saturday evening at 5. They should be home around 8.

Sunday is: 9 am Sunday School, 10:30 service, noon Spaghetti Lunch, Mr Wonderful off to a gig 5 pm.

#2 has an appointment with an enterologist Monday afternoon- I have no idea where his office is. (I suppose I’ll be calling the office Monday morning to get directions…) Her digestion is not back 100%, so it’s good we’re seeing him.

She has an appointment with a physical therapist Tuesday at 8 am. Nope, don’t know where that one is, either. She’s still walking with a touch of a limp, so it’s good we’re seeing him/her.

So here’s the plan: Tie up loose ends with the kids’ homeschooling tomorrow. They need to finish the Science chapter on Bats. #1 is in the middle of a page in Italics. They all have a few spelling words to quiz.

Starting next week, and until Thanksgiving passes, the only schoolwork will be math. We won’t count those days, but we will at least work on the times tables on the computer. (Only #2 knows hers well.) Chores will stay- especially since we have company the Friday and Saturday after Thanksgiving.

That leaves me exactly 1/2 brain to straighten out my Co-op classes, all of whom received the bad news today about their exam grades. Cutting back on homeschool leaves me a free hand to cook, which I haven’t been motivated to do in 3 days. (Stop rolling your eyes, Rootie! The menfolk have survived worse things than sandwiches and chips!)

Give me 6 hours solid sleep, and I’ll probably develop half a heart, too.