Scratching Post: Snarky Media Dissin’ Real America Solutions

The media snarkiness irritates me, especially when it is condescending snarkiness is about something I just might do.  Like actually believe the Bible to be true, pray for answers, or. . . write notes on the palm of my hand.

When Sarah Palin wrote her talking points on her palm, and the media snarked her, well, they snarked me, too.

My talking points for a college class ended up on my palm one time.  I had forgotten my notes.  No paper left me with one choice - my palm – the solution to my dilemma.

Who would you rather have leading the country? A quick-thinking, can-do person who has the confidence to go out in front of a group of people and talk with knowledge and passion with a few organizational prompts on their palm or someone who reads what they  have to say from a teleprompter?

I spent years teaching college composition with an oral presentation requirement. Reading a speech earned a significantly lower grade. We talked about poor speech habits, like “Uuuuhhhh” – and discussed the need to eliminate them, though it did not lower the grade.  It was a freshman class after all.

However, on the national stage, we have a president who reads a speech written by other people from a teleprompter and former governor who motivates groups across America utilizing only 4 to 5 organizational keywords on her palm. And the media disses the governor?

The 21st century media is no Thomas Payne.  The President is no George Washington or Abraham Lincoln. And I am intrigued that a woman is the only one man enough to go out and speak to the American people without a computer telling her what to say.

This political season has provided wonderful opportunities for teaching my sons about the United States government- capitalism versus socialism, the pitfalls of compromise, the 3 branches of government, the constitutionally defined role of the president, the importance of reading contracts that bear financial responsibility, small government versus big government, the rules apply to us so pay your taxes, and no not all government officials have affairs.

Yet, recently, we’ve been left to explain why a president needs a teleprompter to talk to people in an elementary school, why it is not o.k. to say, “uuhhhh” repetitively when you’re talking to people (because your oral presentation teacher will dock your grade), and the importance of being respected in your career field of choice through expertise, dexterity, knowledge of that field’s subject matter.

Sadly, the president is not helping. “Gee, mom, I don’t have to do that stuff. I’ll just be president,” is something I live in fear of hearing on a daily basis.

However, I love it that there is someone out there who is faithful to their husband, chooses life, has common sense answers (at least common sense in my little ol’ corner of the world), and only needs keywords to talk for a long period of time over what she believes in. It sounds like she can talk the talk because she is walking it, too.

My boys?  They better grow up able to talk the walk.  Talking the teleprompter won’t get them anywhere down here in real America.

Blue Cotton Joy

The mission statement for Blue Cotton Memory is to “share homespun stories that provide laughter, insight into raising sons, solution options for challenges faced on both mothers and sons in and  outside that relationship.”

Raising sons includes teaching them how to handle success, failure, pride, fear, competition, anger, relationships, humor, hurt, peas, ice cream, banana peels, and yes, even joy and mourning. Sadly, the posts of the last month have focused on the latter.  I have been so blessed by the blogahood – either with sweet comments that made me smile or cry or both – and wonderful posts I read that made me laugh: Olga, Sarah and the Gentlemen, Lily, Kristi, Jennifer, Shell, Corrie, RCubes, Rebecca Jo, Christy Rose, Patti, JDaniels4Mom, Meg, Mika, Kelly, Tina, Rebecca, Raising My 4 Sons, Colleen, Sasha, Jana, Paula, Beverly, Karen, Michelle, Heather, Summer, Teresa, and Jessica.

Thank you ladies for encouraging me through the journey through Blue Cotton Praying to Blue Cotton Mourning to Blue Cotton Joy – I’m getting there. This closes a chapter of posts on mourning.  You have been brave, courageous women to stop by and drop a line of kindess.  You blessed me.

“I will turn their mourning into gladness; I will give them comfort and joy instead of sorrow” (Jeremiah 31:13)

When David’s child was sick, he mourned.  Those closest to him thought he was losing his mind, so much so they were scared to tell him, fearful of what he would do. Instead, he “arose from the earth, and washed and anointed himself and changed his clothes.  And he went into the house of the Lord and worshipped”(2Samuel 12:20).

David ate and his servants questioned him asking, “What is this thing you have done?  You have fasted and wept for the child while he was alive, but when the child died, you arose and ate food”(2Samuel 12:21).”

David answered, “But now he is dead.  Why should I fast?  Can I bring him back again?  I shall go to him, but he will not return to me”(2 Samuel 12:23).

And that my friends is how sorrow is turned into Joy!

Thank you God

for knowing that we would love people down here with all our hearts

and not want to be separated from them forever

proof of your compassionate never-ending love

Heaven is just a further example of that love.

Because love is a reflection of you,

and you think of everything before we even realize or need

your gift of eternal life is further evidence

Just as you want us to come home to you

so do you want that home full of those we have strived to love

just as you love us

Thank you God for knowing, giving us the hope

to meet again those we love

And I pray that you send laborers across the paths

of those who have not entered into the family of God

so that the door to Your home

Heaven

will be open to them to

so they will not be left out

of the great family reunion

“You have turned for me my mourning into dancing”(Psalm 30:11)

 

Where’s that Miracle?

I taught college composition for quite a few years.  Content develop is the key to success. When developing an argument, I would tell students, “You need three reasons for why you believe anything.  One does not show a pattern. Neither does two.  However, three shows you’ve given the matter sincere consideration.”

A few weeks later, a non-traditional student came in boasting, “I used your “3-reasons” for belief argument and stopped some of my friends from going to church.”

What have I unleashed, I asked myself.  Then I thought, “Oh! No!  What if he asks me?”

So I started to think of three reasons.  I fell into a trap on my first go-round, trying to be theological.  persuading someone to believe through Scripture alone does not work – especially with people who do not know God – and when I say know I mean someone who reads His words and seeks Him out in a “As-the-deer-panteth-for-water-so-my-heart-panteth-for You” kind of seek. 

It took me a week.  After all, I was a college instructor - I needed to sound wise. Then the truth just smacked me in the face. It was so simple.  The Three Reasons I believe? He held my son in the palm of His hand on the day he was born, protecting him for 16 minutes until he was born healthy and whole.  Another son couldn’t hear in one ear and He opened his ears.  Another son had stomach pain for 6 years.  Specialists and doctors kept blowing us off.  One day, I hit the floor and cried out to God.  Two days later, another mom gave me the name of a doctor who decided to scope him, found the problem, and prescribed the solution. Big miracles and little miracles – that’s why I believe. Everytime I’ve cried out, God has answered.  Maybe not in the way I thought, but He answered.

Before Christmas, we all started praying for a miracle – “an extraordinary event in the physical world that surpasses all known human or natural powers; such an effect or event manifesting or considered a work of God.”

You can imagine the struggle in our household now.  The little guys – they believe in miracles, but somehow because a miracle didn’t happen last week did not shake their belief.  They are comforted that their Papaw is in heaven.

My great-niece said it all at the visitation, “Mama – you said Papaw’s in heaven.  He can’t be in heaven.  He’s right there.”

However, there’s struggling going on – probably not just with my older guys – but there’s struggling going on. 

One of my sons said today, “The minister stood there and said, ‘A miracle’s going to happen.’ Well, it didn’t. Papaw died.  I don’t know if I believe in miracles.  I prayed, but nothing happened.” His heart is broken and his faith is shaken.

Do you ever have thoughts that swirl around your mind? They swirl but do not really have a place to settle?  And you wonder if those thoughts should ever see the light of day?

And a moment comes where that thought that had been swirling, formed clearly and landed in your heart instead of your mouth?

That’s what happened when my son finished talking and said he was going to take a long bath.

I grabbed one of my thank you cards, wrote the following note, and slid it under the bathroom door. And I believe it with all my heart:

“Did you ever think that the true miracle is the lives changed through Papaw’s death.

Nobody wanted Jesus to die, but how His death changed lives!

If we consider what Papaw was to this family, I can only think that people are looking at themselves and asking, ‘Am I living how Papaw wanted.’

Why now?  Not in 10 years?  Maybe because someone needed that change now – and Papaw is the kind of man who would do that for those he loves.”

Maybe God whispered that to Papaw! I believe when the minister prayed for a miracle, God heard him.  It just wasn’t the miracle we were looking for. However, I believe it was the miracle Papaw would have wanted – after all, he was always a man who did for others first.

Scratching Post: Masquerading as Jane Austin

                                                                      
I love cats – except when my cat starts stretching and clawing on my grandmother’s braided, older-than-me wool rug. I love how cats, when they get irritated in a cartoon-esque kind of way, unleash their claws and just swipe at something – except when the swipe is either at me or the boys. Once every blue moon, she’ll hiss.  It’s so unusual, our eyes widen and then we laugh.  If it were a daily thing, I’d toss her outside and not let her back in.

Every now and then, I need to unleash the claws of my frustration and swipe at something – not my boys or my husband, though. Scratching posts are expendable – so cats can scratch.  Nothing of value is damaged. Today, my post is a scratching post to relieve stress and pressure without damaging something valuable.

In the last nine months, I’ve experienced the three most stressful occasions in one’s life, or so I’ve been told: a grown-up son’s marriage, moving to a new state, and the death of a family member (my father-in-law). However, sometimes just being a mom is stressful enough.

My pressure release activities are exercising (which I just started), candles (remember the yummy pear candle from Bath and BodyWorks a few years ago? Discontinued! Target’s Anjou Pear smells just like it!), and reading.

Reading anything Jane Austin will do.  Sadly, Austin’s supply is limited.  I’d read Sanditon, a novel started by Austin but completed by another author. The effort, while true to Austin’s characters and culture still show that just because someone who loves you, raises your child after you are gone with the intent to instill in them your values – a difference still exists- as was everything after the 11th chapter of Sanditon. Upon reading, though, I did not feel cheated.  I just missed Jane Austin.

It was the same with Elizabeth Ashton’s novels.  From Mr. Darcy’s Daughters to  The Exploits and Adventures of Miss Althea Darcy, Ashton stays true to Austin’s detail of culture, behavior morés, dialogue and plot development. The only out-of-character decision was Eliza Darcy leaving her daughters at such important ages to go traipsing around the world with her husband. If you are an Austin fan, then Ashton is an author who strives to remain true to Austin’s story telling, providing authentic Austin treatment.

We have now reached my scratching post.

If Ashton is to Austin’s novels what Mr. Darcy was to Eliza, then Joan Aiken,  author of Eliza’s Daughter’s is what Wickham was to Georgiana Darcy – Deceiving, ignoble and full of thievery.

Publishers Sourcebooks Landmark are culpable in the deception, calling this a sequel to Sense and Sensibility. Every Austin character – the heroes and heroines of Sense and Sensibility – are derided, portrayed as thoughtless, selfish, pridely ugly-hearted people. To call a Jane Austin novel a sequel and then to shred her characters into something unrecognizable is a deception equal to selling arsenic as ibuprofen.

The book ignobly strays from Austin’s “goodness-can-be-spun-from-any-life-if-you-apply-common-sense,-goodness-and-restraint” modus operandi.  I love 19th century literature because goodness prevails.  In graduate school, I grew to dislike 20th century literature because it was so hopeless. Aiken’s book reeks of 20th century hopelessness dressed in 19th century clothes.

While Austin never strays far from the socio-economic culture of her characters, poverty and its effects on woman are recognized and avoided at all costs but never brutally uncovered.  However, Aiken strips away the thin veneer of polite society to reveal every vice imaginable – rape, child-stealing, murder, thievery, with more alluded to. Jane Austin would never be so direct.

Austin’s novels are not just a study of women’s lives in the English culture within a particular socio-economic status (respectability standing on the brink of destitution), but more importantly through verbal wit or nit-wittery slices and dices through society’s rules, to ultimately reveal the heart: its depth or shallowness, sturdiness or frailty. Morality stories? Undoubtedly!

Aiken tagging her book as a sequel to Sense and Sensibility is like me putting on one of Carrie Underwood’s beautiful dresses to sing at the Grand Ol’ Opry.  Just wearing the dress does not make me look like Underwood or sound like a singer. Record producers would recoil in fright.  It’s a wonder Aiken’s publishers did not react the same way.

Aiken committed nothing short of thievery – the kind of thievery like an organization who says they are collecting money for children in impoverished countries and then pocketing that money.  Except, I was buying into spending a few hours in Austin’s world, albeit a promised look-alike world because no one can every be Jane except Jane. I did not want to reduce my stress level with pills, chocolate martinis, or ripping into my family members.  I wanted to relax, read a book and let that tension just drift away. Instead, I was flim-flammed - tricked, swindled, cheated. You truly cannot judge a book by its cover, especially when it is covered with false advertising.

A sequel makes promises – Mr. Darcy-like promises, not Wickham-like promises.

I will now sheath my claws and put away the scratching post of Aiken’s book.  I needed to release the stress and pressure.  While the book did not provide it, it provided a punching bag to just vent, albeit indirectly, about something that in the end did not really mean a whole lot to my life. We all need relaxation and healthy ways to vent. Maybe the book needs to be re-packaged – Scratching post for someone who needs to let off steam.

Please forgive my cattiness – and if I scratched too hard on your nerves with my ill humor- I apologize!  However, I’m now cozily ensconced back in my 19th century philosophy that goodness prevails and hope is never wasted!

A Hospice Experience

The last few days of my father-in-law’s life was spent in a Hospice facility.  What did I learn about Hospice?

Big rooms to hold a big family

sparkly clean and warm

Big hearts in support staff

caring, helping, caring, understanding, caring 

Family rooms, rooms to pray

 coffee shops with free coffee to help you keep up your energy,

60 cent soft drinks,

plenty of places to sit,

a peaceful spirit enveloping

and a dog

Hospice ? - a waiting room to heaven!

Thank you Hospice!

 

The Day Papaw’s Spirit Soared

Bad news moms – no matter how much I explained going to heaven, it did not stop the tears.  As a matter of fact, the littlest one came home from school telling me his cousin had said, “Papaw’s going to die in 4 days.” I asked him what he said, and he responded, “Nothing. I didn’t know Papaw was going to die.”

Another one of those speechless mom moments!  I guess I’d never used the word die or he skipped out into Little Boy Imagination Land during the middle of our discussions.

Last night Papaw’s spirit soared off to heaven.

Someone told me a story about how before someone they loved died, they said, “Send me pennies so I know you’re in heaven.”  The person replied, “I’ll send you quarters.”  And she found quarters everywhere for the next year.

My sister in law told me that last year,when her sister in law died, it started snowing as they left the graveside service.  She said that was this precious woman letting them know she was in heaven by showering them with the snow she loved.

Last night when we left hospice, it started snowing.  She said it was her her sister in law letter her know Papaw was in heaven.

My oldest son had a dream two nights ago that he was talking with Papaw.  He asked  him if he needed anything.  Papaw told him he was ready to go on home to heaven.

God is merciful!

There are hugs galore.  If you hear a bunch of noise today and tomorrow, it’s the sound of stories being told, enough stories to last a life time – stories to outlast the grief.  There’s a special fraternity of grandsons in this family – 12 of them, not a single granddaughter, who have inherited his nobleness, quick wit and love of family.  Of course, it didn’t just fall on them.  He taught them from the first moment he held them in the hospital when they were born, at his knee and standing beside him man-to-man.  All I can think is what a privelege it is to have become a part of this family, how blessed my sons were to have him as a grandfather!

I want to include one of Papaw’s  favorite poems today. It’s the kind of man he tried to be and the man he wanted his sons and grandsons to be – and to thank you for your prayrs and encouragement!

If

by Rudyard Kipling

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or, being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream – and not make dreams your master;
If you can think – and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with triumph and disaster
And treat those two imposters just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to broken,
And stoop and build ‘em up with wornout tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: “Hold on”;

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings – nor lose the common touch;
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run -
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And – which is more – you’ll be a Man my son!

 

 

Explaining Going to Heaven to My Children

About 11 years ago, my son, the Fire and the Power of the Holy Spirit, survived a cord-prolapse, crash c-section.  The last thing I heard before they knocked me out was, “I don’t have a heart beat.” Coming to, I was terrified – would my son be dead or alive.  Laying on my side in intense pain, with my eyes closed, I heard my father in law talking to someone, teasing about my snoring.  Then I heard those precious sounds only a newborn makes.  I knew everything was o.k.

Today, my father in law is in a hospice facility.  He’s snoring a lot. I wish I could say something to make everything o.k. However, that’s his gift, not mine.

My sons are part of an amazing group of young men: 12 grandsons who adore their papaw. Coming up behind them is a group of great-grandchildren who are in the Candy-and-Coke Store Fan Club group.  It’s a pretty special, select group. The benefits?  Unconditional love, hugs, trips to the Candy and Coke Store, front-row fans at any activity, a front door always open, a sit-down-let’s talk about life attitude, and tremendous generosity of spirit – like a vacation a few years ago when my husband and I -very out of shape tried to play tennis with him.  Three days of grueling play left us hobbling.  We were so grateful when he cried off due to a sore muscle, but I bet he just knew we couldn’t take it any more.

The birth of my second son found papaw hand-cuffed to anything, oh, about the level of couch legs, bench legs, table legs.  After about 48 hours, he probably wished he’d never bought those hand-cuffs for the new big brother.  However, he just loved making those boys smile.

I remember one of my nephews crying when he was about 4 years old.  He’d spent the weekend at Nanny and Papaws.  He hugged so tight to Papaw when  it was time to leave, sobbing into his shoulder. He’s feeling the same way today, and he’s all grown up.

We’ve prayed for healing. Daily. My boys have seen each other healed through prayer, so they faithfully joined in. 

The other day, the littlest one asked what was wrong with Papaw.  I guess he realized this wasn’t your typical, run-of-the-mill cold or flu.  I explained cancer: “You know when you watch Star Wars and the bad guys send drones into the land they want to take over?  Well, the bad guy is cancer, and they go into parts of the body, kind of like a planet in the universe.  When they take that over, they go to other parts of the body – like other planets.”

Being the Star Wars fan, he understood.

Last week, though, I had to move into phase two.  Phase 1 – you pray for healing.  Phase 2 – when you realize God has other plans – going-home plans. Then, it’s time to help that person go to the other side – cross over into heaven.

Peter Marshall, the famous United States chaplain, made even more famous in the movie, “A Man Named Peter,” describes dying the following way: “It’s like going to sleep in your mother’s bed and waking up the next morning only to find yourself in your own bed.”

Every person who lives for Jesus spends their entire life traveling to the gates of heaven.  Brad Paisley and Dolly Parton explain it perfectly, “When I get where I’m going, there’ll be only happy tears.”

Of course, the getting there can be kind of tough. . . on everybody.  We all want one more hug, one more joke, one more political debate, one more chance to say how much he meant to us.  But then, he always knew we loved him.  Telling him would just embarrass him.  He always said, “Words mean NOTHIN’.  Your actions are shouting so loud I can’t hear your words.” I guess he and Obama could have had a debate on “Words… just Words.”

The little guys and I were talking about what Papaw’d do in heaven.  Yep, play tennis. Yep, hug those babies he didn’t get to hug down here. He’ll walk with that Papaw-spring in his step. He won’t debate politics, though. We decided that there wouldn’t be political debate in heaven. But I can see him grabbing an orange or an apple and peeling, just like I’ve seen him do a thousand times.

I remember my oldest son’s middle school basketball coach was arrested for smoking marijuana on some backwoods backroad.  He really like this coach and tried to give him an ethics break, “His mom died.  He was just coping with his grief.”

I just looked him straight in the eye and said, “I hope that when it’s my time to go to heaven, that you will celebrate my life instead of going to some backwoods backroad and drowning your sorrows in drugs.”

Crossing over is an odd time – it’s kind of like blue cheese and honey. The sweet and the pungent – but when mixed together, it’s just right.  Now is the time of great loss, but also the celebration of a life well lived and well-loved. The sweet and the pungent!

Some dear friends from when we lived here before bought the Candy and Coke Store a few years back.  They called Nanny the other day and told her, “If Papaw can’t come to the Candy and Coke Store, the Candy and Coke store will come to him.”

I bet Heaven feels like Papaw taking you to the Candy and Coke Store.

Brad Paisley and Dolly Parton did an excellent job singing about what it’s like when we get where we’re going.  It’s great to sing about our own little selves going. It’s just tough when the life of the party, the heart of the family, the world’s greatest father in law, dad, husband and Papaw head there before we get to.

I wish he wasn’t leaving the party so early!

When I Get Where I’m Going

by Melvern Rutherford Ii, George G. Iii Teren

When I get where I’m going
on the far side of the sky.
The first thing that I’m gonna do
Is spread my wings and fly.

I’m gonna land beside a lion,
and run my fingers through his mane.
Or I might find out what it’s like
To ride a drop of rain

(Chorus:)
Yeah when I get where I’m going,
there’ll be only happy tears.
I will shed the sins and struggles,
I have carried all these years.
And I’ll leave my heart wide open,
I will love and have no fear.
Yeah when I get where I’m going,
Don’t cry for me down here.

I’m gonna walk with my grandaddy,
and he’ll match me step for step,
and I’ll tell him how I missed him,
every minute since he left.
Then I’ll hug his neck.

(Chorus)

So much pain and so much darkness,
in this world we stumble through.
All these questions, I can’t answer,
so much work to do.

But when I get where I’m going,
and I see my Maker’s face.
I’ll stand forever in the light,
of His amazing grace.
Yeah when I get where I’m going,
Yeah when I get where I’m going,
there’ll be only happy tears.
Hallelujah!
I will love and have no fear.
When I get where I’m going.
Yeah when I get where I’m going.

Briefly Losing My Voice

When my youngest son was born, I had a planned c-section due to the previous crash c-section delivery.  My goal?  To minimize the pain – because the pain in recovery from the previous delivery had been staggering.  After the littlest guy was born, the anesthetist told me to tell him if I was uncomfortable.  If so, he would knock me out.

There I was chatting happily with my husband.  My chatting grew less frequent until it totally stopped.  The anesthetist asked how I was doing.  My husband replied, “Not well. She’s not talking. When she’s not talking, she’s in distress.” The guy in control of the drugs graciously knocked me out.

While I cannot be knocked out now (no medical excuse), distress is what has kept me wordless this week. My mom’s heart-attack that wasn’t (they gave her nitro glycerin and the pain went away), my father-in-law battling cancer being told “no more chemo,” then immediately being admitted to the hospital because of difficulty breathing and pain, teen-age angst, all while my Knight in Shining Armor had been out of the country for over 2 weeks.  He returned yesterday. Amazing how those Knight-in-shining-armor-guys make a damsel in distress recover. However, it was tough for him, staggeringly tough.

My voice is coming back.  There are things I want to say, but will do so later.  My FIL is going home today.  Hospice is coming in.  Yesterday, they drained 3 liters of fluid from around his liver.  Afterwards, he ate, walked, and, though thinner, seemed restored.  It was as though Jesus had said, “Arise Lazarus and walk.” His razor-sharp wit, love of debate, and can-do-ness – all there. He laughed and teased each of the boys individually, making them the star on the stage like he always does. 

My sons are just 5 of 12 grandsons (no granddaughters) with great-grandchildren my little guys’ ages.  If you ever want to feel old, wait until the 6-year-old ring-bearer from you wedding marries and has a baby.  I’m a great-aunt without even trying!

There is a constant stream of family. One of my nephews commented at the beach a few years ago how lucky we are because we love hanging out together. Our children love to play together. What a blessing!

My FIL lives to love his family. We want him to continue living that dream for as long as possible.

I want to thank you for your prayers.  The power of those prayers made a difference this week.

Updated Prayer Requests

  God has so blessed me with a wonderful husband, 5 sons who are truly are gifts from God, my mom, a single mom who worked so hard for my brother and I to raise us up ethic rich, family tradition rich, and value rich – and all on minimum wage.

God gave me an extra special surprise – a father-in-law who has been like the father I never had and a mother in law who loves unconditionally. I’m ususally hesitaant about posting current pictures of my boys, but today it is worth it.  The picture to the left is at last years Veteran’s Day celebration.  All the boys showed up at the little guys’ school for a ceremony that honored so many of our veterans.  Nanny and Papaw drove 3 hours to attend.  Since then, we moved to their hometown (where they didn’t have a Veteran’s Day Ceremony due to the ramped-up-scare-’em-to-death Swine Flu, but that’s another post). 

Today’s post is a prayer request for my mom and my father in law – the world’s best Papaw.  My FIL was diagnosed with cancer before Christmas and is going for his 3rd Chemo treatment tomorrow.  1/21/2010 – no more Chemo.  They admitted him to the hospital. Please pray for healing and strength.

***Prayer Results 1/20/2010 – thanks for the prayers.  When they went in there was no blockage.  She said to say thank you  because it was all those prayers that made the difference! I thank you from the bottom of my heart

And Please pray for my Mom.  She went into the hospital last night with chest pains and heart “activity.”  She’s a spunky fighter! She’s overcome a brain tumor, cancer, and raising me and my brother – I think she can overcome anything.  But it’s a sure bet when God’s behind you.

Loaded Potato Soup

 

The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach – right?  So what did I learn to do when I, um, married a man and had a bunch of sons – learned how to cook some mighty fine fixin’s, that’s what!  Let me tell you, it has not been a cake walk! 

My husband could care less about food – and he married the woman who believes to the tips of her toes that all moments are not complete without a food moment! 

My oldest son grew into a health-conscious individual whose high nutritional ethical standards could not be tempted with his mama’s cooking (well, the oysters work their magic – and a pint of Marble Slab ice cream). He turned his nose up at the birthday cake I made him a few years ago. Sigh!  He was on a sugar diet.  The next day, I found him devouring my Marble Slab Deep Dark Chocolate with Key lime.  He’d finished his sugar diet. 

You have to hide food from the second one.  Mid-night snack?  That’s him.  Left-overs?  Gone before the clock strikes mid-night. He loves it when I cook my yum (or rather Southern Living’s yum) shrimp and pasta or Giada’s grandmother’s spicy shrimp and rice.  Savor?  I don’t really think he knows what anything tastes like.  He inhales his food.  However, he avoids vegetables like a good Charles Dickens novel. 

The Joyful one – he just smiles, looks in the oven and asks, “Can Nanny come over and take it out.  It’ll taste so much better if she’ll do that.” I just stand there blinking.  He left me speechless when he asked if I could take Wal-Mart’s frozen lasagna over for Nanny to cook because it would just taste that much better. And then he smiled that great big joyful smile.  No matter what your opinion is, you cannot say that your cooking is better than your MIL.  The stinker had me in check-mate-kitchen style!  

The youngest one just wants white sauce (Alfredo)  on everything.  And dipping sauce for his vegetables.  He misses the food from his “old” school.  He cannot stand the new school’s food.  This is the boy who cried when he got in the van after I made him take his lunch on spaghetti day. He loves cereal, pancakes, broccoli and carrots. If I’ve got the sauce – I’m the kitchen queen.  Oh, he adores my mashed potatoes.  I had to give Nanny the recipe so he would eat hers! LOL 

 The way to one son’s heart is through a bowl of Loaded Potato Soup – O’Charley Style.  However, since we cannot go to O’Charley’s all the time, I searched for a recipe that would soothe the soup beast within.  About nine  years ago, a lady at church gave me the following recipe.  

2 packages Pioneer Brand Country Gravy Mix 

1 lb. Velveeta cheese 

Potatoes, cut in small cubes, simmered until soft 

2 cups milk 

Bacos 

Prepare gravy mix according to directions.  Add 1 lb. velveeta cheese cut up to help melt.  Stir until melted in mixture.  Add 2 cups milk.  Then add potatoes. Simmer until warm.  Serve with 1/2 tsp. Bacos sprinkled in the middle. 

Whip up a little Loaded Potato Soup and watch those hugs come in! What could be more beautiful, more Simply Saturday! 

  

 

A Mother and her Masks: The story of the mother of the prodigal son

 

Alisa over at Faith Imagined has developed a monthly e-magazine for women Sanctified Together.  She invited me to contribute to her first edition. I am so honored and excited to be included! For quite awhile, there had been an article idea trying to get out, but there were challenge facets to the content.  When she sent me the theme, Masks, I knew God was saying – “See – I want you to write it.” 

Motherhood has moments of greatness – moments of great love, great laughter, great sacrifice, great anxiety, great hugs, great celebrations and great challenges. This post is all about being a mother during those moments of great challenges when motherhood is a walk of faith!

The Mother of the Prodigal

Masks are for hiding, deceiving, concealing, and protecting. They hide shame, hurt and wrongs – the wrongs we have done and the wrongs done to us. 

We never hear her voice or her story; but if we could, I bet the mother in the story of the prodigal son could tell us a lot about masks – and about throwing them down (Luke 15:11-32).

To continue reading “The Mother of the Prodigal,” where I am a guest contributor please join me at the new on-line magazine Sanctified Together: Belt of Truth edition  here.

Six Mom Stages of Raising Boys to Men

Raising Boys to Men has moments of glory and moments of unabashed obscurity.

For some reason, God put the mama (and Dad) in charge of filling these boys with humbleness, loyalty, honesty, courageous, hard-working,  resourceful and caring – and independence without sassing, breaking the rules, or not telling us where they are going. Like any big job, there are stages – and as a mom, each of these stages has particular job requirements, benefits, and challenges. The newest stages to each of us individually usually require an adjustment period.  It has been the same with the last stage with my oldest son who recently married. However, an insightful post from the blogahood has helped me with that adjustment. Let me start from the beginning, so you can get a feel for the last great challenge in the relationships with our sons. As Mamas of these boys to men, our relationships go through various stages, but one things stays the same – prayer.

Survival Mom - Face it, for the first 3.5 years of their life, our sons cannot survive without us.  We feed them, change them, potty train, teach them how to walk, to talk – all the basic fundamentals.  Our reward?  Great big slurpy kisses, hugs, and unconditional adoration.  Survival mommy rules the world and prays that God show her how to rule his little world.  Prayers for healing, strength, insight, patience, solutions, and, oh, for that God protect his wife – already!

Rock Star Mom - ages 3.5 to 7 – They love us, adore us, and want to marry us. Life without mom? Unimaginable. We create art projects, find books to inspire, set play dates to develop friendships, and teach them to swim, swing a bat, throw a football, play an instrument, sing songs, and to love Jesus. Full time  instructor mommies training our little guys for the next step of independence, but they so desperately do not want to leave us. Separated from mom? Appalling!  Huge Tears! Wailing! They want their mama! And their mama prays for guidance, for their life, for their struggles, for healing, for solutions, for good character (in each of us), and, yep, for their future wife.

Fading Star Mom - 7 to 12 – That mom-son love is still there, but it comes and goes, like watching a star on cloudy night.  The pull to independence starts, realization that mom is not perfect – and maybe a little uncool, leads to testing, questioning, and developing their own tastes, likes, and dislikes.  They go into school without looking back, or trying not to look back.  However, they still love mom-son time.  They love it when you make hot chocolate on a snowy sledding day!  They’ll still snuggle, cuddle up while you read a roaring good book, and tell you absolutely everything that happened at school.  However, they really love hanging out with Dad now. It’s an equal-love world developing in the house. They want to pick their own books to read now, which movies to see, and don’t wake you up in the middle of the night to climb in bed with you. And we pray – for Godly friends who help lift them up when they fall down, for wisedom, insight, favor with God, solutions for challenges, and, yes, for their wife.

Underground Foundation  Mom - 13 to 19 – Stealth support, is how I define it. The quest for independence steps up, but tricycle-style independence still rules. We finance it, we attend it, we transport it, support it – Sports, music, extra-curricular activities, here they come. My husband and I have sold pork butts, stood with athletic teams outside Wal-Mart to raise fund-raising money for the entire team, pancake breakfasts, sat through music practices, lessons, and recitals.  We let them drive our cars (I need therapy after this), learn how to cook, choose friends, develop a social calendar.  We drove them home from soccer games where they seethed anger at their performance (whether they won or lost). We get to help them pick their tux out for prom. We helped cook beautiful dinners for two proms where we along with other parents served  the attendees and then sat down to eat after they left. I stayed up all night on Project Graduation working so my son had a great night, a safe night. We reigned in poor choices, encouraged good choices – and prayed – for safety, wisdom, laborers to come across their paths to bring them closer to God, insight into God’s calling on their lives – and for their future wives.

Occasional Mom - 19 to 22 –  At least, that is how it seems on the outside with the  Independence-with-Training wheels stage.  Off to college, off to find their future and take it. Success or failure, it is all up to them, but at least they have a soft place to fall – home – and a mom and dad who are there to lift up, encourage, and pray – for good choices, insight into their future, a good work ethic, Godly friends who help lift them up when they fall – and, yes, their future wives.

Confused Mom - Post-College – All independent, out in the world (but hopefully not of the world), seeking and finding their wife, building a life of their own, as it should be.  The book, I’ll love you forever, “I’ll love you for always, as long as I’m living, you’re mommy I’ll be” – is so true – however, I do not think my daughter-in-law would appreciate me climbing in through her window every night, rocking my son,and singing that line to him.  I think it would freak her out.  It is a book that has so much potential, but really misses it there in an ”Everybody-Loves-Raymond-kind-of-way.” There’s more to this mothering-job than climbing in his window at night when your son is all grown up.

 There are times I felt like Galadriel from The Lord of the Rings when she says, “I have passed the test. I will diminish, and go into the West, and remain Galadriel.”

So what was my Role? What was my mommy-job in this phase?  Mommy-ness doesn’t just stop because  they get married. 

Then, last week, I read Lidj’s post “Alabaster Jar,”  from Crown of Glory where she wrote:  

  ”As a mother, I am called to be the “family remembrancer,”

the one who remembers,

the one who points out the signposts.

I am also the gatekeeper,

 the watchman who stands guard,

 the priest who intercedes,

and who holds the cup of God’s healing oil.

May I be found faithful”(Crown of Beauty, 35-37))

I am no longer Confused Mom. My role is two-fold.  Foremost, it is about prayer.  It was all along – Intercessory prayer, vigilant prayer, healing prayer. Secondly, my role is to witness – to remember, to tell the stories of how God moved in our family, protected us, healed us, gave us life, sustenance,  of God’s faithfulness to His promises – and still does! As Lidj asked, “May I be found faithful.” My role for the son who has grown up and moved out?  Prayer Mom who tells stories – I can do that! I will so have this stage down by the time by youngest one gets married!  Thanks Lidj!

God Knew

 

God knew

I’d like Polka Dot goloshes

God Knew

I’d like to mix my pottery with my china.

God Knew

I’d be terrible at keeping secretes.

God knew

 I’d love coffee shops and cats.

God knew

Injustice would torment me.

God knew

Orange Dulce Tea would be my favorite

and that I’d be opinionated.

God knew

I would not be a perfectionist

and that I would struggle with its effects.

God knew it all because He put it in me

and He knows I can overcome anything

He has called me to overcome

because He also put that within me

He knew,

I’d be glad not to have to overcome

my admiration for

polka dots

What has God put in You?

 

 

Blue Cotton Encouragement!

A couple of friends in the blogahood left a couple of sweet gifts in my mailbox over the holidays!  What a sweet pick me up when I was down over the holidays, trying to walk the faith walk about our move but having difficulty talking that faith walk. Well, God picked me up, dusted me off, and filled me with hope and vision, but that is really a whole different post.  Today, I want to share that encouragement – to pick someone up who is maybe down, so I thought maybe it was time to express that appreciation!

The Circle of Friends Award was a wonderful Christmas Gift passed to me from The Red-Headed Riter!  The blogahood is full of wonderful women who share their faith through stories, challenges, and messages God has put on their hearts.  It is amazing how these women’s moments with God brought forth messages I needed to hear.  Because of their boldness in sharing, they served as messengers from God to help me on my journey. Now, that is the best kind of circle of friends!

The rules for this award are:

• Grab the award
• Post it on your blog along with 5 things you love to do
• And 5 other bloggers you want to recognize

The five things I love to do?

1) I love watching the snow fall outside (I’m doing that now)!

2) I love coffee dates,whether with my husband, my sons, or my friends! (This is my favorite coffee shop where we used to live)

3) I love cooking for people!

4) I love watching old movies with my husband – any movie is better when he’s there with me! I love his laugh and humor! No movie experience is complete without him.

5) I love reading – and I love it when my sons love reading.  Another perfect Christmas present I gave was the play and the movie The Devil and Daniel Webster - my 14 year old had asked for both since the summer! I guess I felt like Lionel Barrymore did when he discovered his children loved acting or how Billy Graham felt when he discovered his son wanted to go into ministry!  When your children embrace what you value, it is a testament that something you planted,  cared for and nurtured stuck. Like when my oldest son prayed about his wife – seeking God’s will in his marriage. As moms, we talk it (which can be quite exhilarating, frustrating, or confusing), but the greatest moments are when we see our children walk it!

Now, to the important part of this award – the ladies who have become a circle of friends (The Redheaded-Riter included) that fits my definition above – and that I would love to throw a party for – cooking and coffee (two of my favorite things)! Each has been a sweet blessing to me this year!

1) Lidj at  Crown of Glory

2) Christy Rose at The Secret Life of an American Wife and Mom

3) Teresa at Too Many Heartbeats

4) Lemonade Makin’ Mama (Who I hope does NOT change her title – I could write a post on why that is such a great name! – The gauntlet is thrown down Sasha!) 

5) Deb at He Gave Me a Dream

6) Mocha Mama at Life Be In It

7) Kelly at My Front Porch

I received The Gorgeous Blog Award From Alisa at Faith Imagined.  What an award – as a mom with 5 sons, anyone using the word gorgeous in reference to me I accept with girlish delight (interpretation – I am raising sons, meaning words like gorgeous are not used in my house unless by me and then I only get blank stares or raised eyebrows)! I am passing this award to Genny at My Cup to Yours - elegant, wise, and a blog wonderfully put together.  She is a mom who knows how to turn a disaster into success! You should see the cupcakes her daughter made!

 The Splash Award – The Red-Headed Riter passed this award to me before Thanksgiving. It is given to alluring, amusing, bewitching, impressive and inspiring blogs. The blogs below definitely fit the bill here!  They have inspired, amused, and impressed me continually with their humor and individual blog sparkle magic!  The rules for this award are:

• Put the logo on your blog/post
• Nominate and link up to 9 blogs which allure, amuse, bewitch, impress or inspire you.
• Let them know that they have been splashed by commenting on their blog.
• Remember to link the person from whom you received your Splash Award.

 1) Sarah and the Gentlemen

2) Helene at  I’m Living Proof that God has a Sense of Humor

3) Raising My 4 Sons

4) RCUBES in Off the Beaten Track

5) Corrie in Just Because My Pickle Talks Doesn’t Make Me an Idiot

6) Tina at My Lipstick Life

7) When Did I Become My Mom

A Blonde Duck at A Duck in her Pond

9) The Pioneer Woman

10) Alisa at Faith Imagined

11) Jennifer at Our Fruitful Vine

12) Mummy McTavish at Samster.com

How Good is Santa?

How Good is Santa? Well, let’s just say that the Christmas season has magical moments – moments you will hold tight to your heart when you’re 97 years old.

Sometimes Santa knows things the boys do not know – like a Brad Paisley concert coming to town.  What do you get boys when toy trucks are passe?  Brad Paisley tickets!

Santa also knew we wouldn’t let him buy any of those expensive Stetson hats, but he found two look-alikes 25% off $29.00 with a feather.  No, he didn’t bring one for the biggest one of the all, but he brought them for the two littlest ones.

Santa might, however, sneak back to get one for the big guy!  Maybe a Christmas in June birthday present?

They wear their hats everywhere – except in the bathtub!

A Christmas letter to Santa has traditionally been written by our oldest for, oh, probably about 10 years.  Last year he passed that tradition on to the second oldest.  Imagine the Whos going to Scrooge to tell them what they wanted for Christmas!  I stepped in this year.  We thanked Santa for last year’s gifts – yearly we do this.  Then each boy talks about what they want.

The 4th one said, “If you ask for just 2 things, you’ll get what you ask for and won’t be disappointed.  If you ask for more, you won’t get what you want the most and then you’ll be disappointed.”  All the boys followed his example.

We had a great time.  I printed the letter off a few days later when my husband and I left to, ahheemmm, go have a consultation with Santa.  My husband was reading the letter and gave me a funny look, “Did you write this?”

 ”Yeah, I helped the boys write it.”

“Did you write this?”

I took the letter and read a paragraph that had been added, “Santa could you please bring my hardworking, magnificent mom a ring with her birth stone on it or a diamond ring. I know it would make her really happy” followed by our 4th son’s name.

I was amazed – not just at the ring request, but at the kind, sweet words. All I can say is moments like that are the best! 

Santa found one for 25% off $25 at Macy’s – it looked like this ring: 

Santa put it in my stocking.

I think the addendum to the family Christmas letter was the best Christmas gift in the whole wide world!

Another gift, somewhat quirky was a moment listening to my freshman talk to his younger brothers about the North and South Pole.  “Santa lives at the North Pole,” he explained.  “The elves are born at the South Pole.  You see, you plant an elf head first in the ground(when they die) and four new ones pop out.  It’s Ecology.”

A little sweetness, a little humor, and pink polka dot gollashes – what more could a mom ask for!

Santa is pretty darn good! And, Christmas still has magical moments!

The Magical Sleepytime Hour

“I can’t go to sleep,” said the littlest of them all. 

“Try counting sheep,” I suggested.  He and his brother giggled all over their beds while counting sheep, eyes wide open. “With your eyes closed.” Mass giggles again. I turned off the light.

“I can’t go to sleep,” the littlest one said again, his voice carrying down the hallway.

“Close your eyes.  Sleep will come,” I answered.

“Not working,” he peeped up about 2 seconds later.

“You have to keep your eyes closed for about 20 minutes,” I countered, sighing, amused – knowing that when the littlest one out grew sleepytime antics there was not going to be anyone following up from behind to take his place.

“My eyes are burning,” he whined, flinging himself all over the bed.  “I can’t close my eyes.  It makes my eyes burn.”

Have you ever tried to reason with a little guy?  Any aged little guy?  You cannot persuade them to admit their eyes are not burning.  “Not possible,” is how my little guy would explain it.

I walked down the hallway into their room. “Do you need me to snuggle with you?”

“Me, too, mom,” the older one eagerly invited. 

I gave the older one, after a big hug, the following instructions, “Close your eyes.  Imagine all the different ways you can score a soccer ball.” He settled in.

I climbed into bed with the littlest one of them all. “Do you need me to snuggle with you?” I asked, expecting a sassy negative.

“Yes,” he said, immediately making room, snuggling up against.  It kind of reminded me of Theodore in The Chipmunks.  It also reminded me of how wonderful it is to be simply needed.

I started singing. We had not had bedtime snuggly sings in a long time.  Singing to a “Demand Performance Crowd” is the only way to do it!  They think my voice is wonderful – or most likely, they like my songs the best. There are a lot of Blue Cotton Originals – but they don’t induce sleep.  They needed to go to sleep.  It was a school night.

We Started out with Veggie Tales: “Know that where ever you are, it is never too far.  Just think of me and I’ll be with you.”

I then moved to “This old man” with more a jazzy melody than what I grew up with.  It turned into a duet.

I then launched into “Ten in The Bed.” It is one my father-in-law used to sing to my oldest son.  We found the book, which has such great pictures that we launched freed us to use our own names.  All the brothers fell out of bed last night, all their best friends fell out while getting a lesson in the various ways falling out sounds, “Dink, Splash, Crash, Skuttlebump, Kerthump” with great sound effects, too.

The boys were back to laughing uproariously.

I started singing “Holy and Anointed One” by John Barnett

“Jesus, Jesus,
Risen and exalted One,
Jesus
Your name is like
honey on my lips,
Your Spirit like
water to my soul,
Your word is a lamp
unto my feet,
Jesus I love
You, I love you”

The little guy snuggled, my arm under his head.  His eyes closed.  No burning.  No sleeplessness.  He just needed his mama to help him wind down and let the day go.

A Demand Performance – you bet! I’ll be there every time!

Sadly, sleepytime ears are more discerning than wake up ears. The next morning, before 7 a.m., all the boys were bundled in the car.  Snow was falling.  The sun was not awake yet.  We were going to feed Papaw’s cows.  While my older son got out to go feed, I belted away, “Let it Snow! Let it Snow! Let it Snow” to much moaning, complaining, and demands to “Stop! Stop! Stop!”

I didn’t – because I know that deep down inside, they really wanted me to keep on singing!

Never Give Up!

There is something oddly baffling when the advice you give your children ends up on your situation doorstep.  I found myself, giving myself this bread-and-butter life-philosophy staple this week.  And just like my kids, I did not like being on the receiving end of one of my lectures, even though I needed it:

You might not be the smartest

or have the best skill set

but you never give up

the journey

the quest

the heart’s desire

the dream

because sometimes the smartest or those with the most talent

do not have the gumption,

the determination

the stick-to-it-ive-ness

innate hope

to never give up

to develop those skill sets

to learn the knowledge needed for the dream

and those are the ones,

the ones who never give up

who achieve

their heart’s desires

 

 

Uncle Sam to Decide Your Child’s Value for Medical Treatment

When I was 4 years old, I was sitting in my grandmother’s lap on the passenger side of the front seat.  Life was good.  My hand was wrapped around the window frame.  We’d just finished Friday grocery shopping and were heading to lunch.  Excited, I held onto the window frame of my aunt’s car doo, eager to eat.  We did not go out often. My grandmother pulled the door, hefting it, slamming the door shut.  Screams!  Major Screams. 1/3 of my thumb was severed.  My aunt and my grandmother rushed me, screaming at the top of my lungs to the pediatrician’s office.  My pediatrician snipped off the dangling 1/3 of my finger, popped it in an ice cup and sent us to the emergency room. 

Still screaming, I was handed to a  young intern and taken to surgery. A young intern re-attached my thumb.  He was not sure the fingernail would grow back.  My mom had to soak and scrape the nail bed nightly.  It did grow back.  Even with a thumb print, today you cannot see where it was severed.  This young intern went on to become a world class limb attachment surgeon. 

Today I wonder if under Obama’s Health Care plan my children or their children receive the same care I got?

A friend of my delivered a baby whose stomach and organs were pushed up into the lung area.  The symptoms were flagged by an experienced nurse, the problem quickly identified and immediate surgery put everything back where it belong.  Timely intervention saved her life.  She is a normal, regular run and fun little girl today.

My mom was diagnosed with a brain tumor. She needed surgery within weeks.  During the pre-surgery testing, a rare separate cancer was discovered in early stages. They were able to quickly do the brain surgery and a month later remove the cancer.  She was 64 years old, earning slightly higher than minimum wage, matching her employer for insurance. No medicaid or Medicare for financial help. In case you are wondering, she raised two children on that type of salary without government assistance. 

A friend of mine’s husband had a heart attack while unemployed.  The hospital agreed to write off the costs.

The state of Tennessee has a program for the “uninsurable” – an exploding, fraud-filled program whose prices have staggered.  I knew people on that program who did not have to pay for doctor visits, treatment, medications or surgery.  They owned businesses.  Some had good incomes.

I like the quality of my health care.  I like the choices I have.  Yes, I admit it.  I am disturbed that they want to destroy a health care system that brings people from around the world because of the quality of medical treatment offered.  Yes, I also know there are readers out there who think Cuba has better care than we do.  I really don’t know of many people eager to go to Cuba for quality health care, but if that’s where you want to go, fine. I still say the United States has the best health care. I find it disturbing that people are trying to fix the part of health care that is not the problem.

What is even more disturbing is government run-health care weighing my treatment by considering “what’s good for the community than for and individual,” said Dr. Exekiel Emanuel, White House Health Policy Adviser.   Author Scott Lazarowitz in his article “ObamaCare and the Value of Human Life, counters, “This implies that if an individual is not useful to the community, he has less value as an individual and may not be a worthy as others for medical treatment.” 

Do you really want someone besides God determining your value, someone else to tell you to throw in the towel – or rather grab the towel away from you before you make a decision to stop fighting for your right to live? There is a reason now why you have to sign a legal document giving someone that right – most of use have few people we trust to make that decision for us – much less a government appointed “advocate.”

ObamaCare smells when you look at the behavior of the Senators supporting the Legislation.

Florida (D) Representative Alan Grayson asked Attorney General Eric Holder to send a blogger who criticized him to jail - that’s – Go directly to jail – do not file a complaint, do not go to trial befor a jury – just go to jail. People like him are going to decide if my mama, my boys, or I have value?

It sounds so “high school” to have someone judge your ability to give to society in order to determine whether you “earn” the really good treatment.  Who is going to determine what adds value to a community? Money? Belief System? Skin Color? Political Beliefs?

Do you really want a bunch of stab-you-in the back, send-you-to-jail-for-disagreeing-with-me people determining whether you contribute value to society?

When a government starts playing God, while taking God out of the public square, the public school house, and public history lessons, I would think their definition of value would be different than mine.

As  a matter of fact, their values seem vastly different than mine – I do not make decisions that affect millions under the cover of darkness.  I do not take money for favors.  I do not turn off the phone so I cannot hear the people I am responsible for. I do not blatantly lie.  I read all documents before I sign my name because I am ultimately responsible.  I pay my taxes. If I hold my hand over a bible, place my hand over my heart, and pledge to uphold the Constitution, I would.  Oh, wait – I do not even need to play my hand over a bible, my hand over my heart – and I don’t even have to pledge it.  I live it.

Yes, their values are vastly different that mine.  I guess a bonus to ObamaCare is that I will not even have to pay to go to a lawyer to give permission for the government appointed advocate to make that decision.  The government will trump family and law. Amazing, isn’t it. Who do you trust to determine whether you have enough value to live?

A Congress’s Betrayal of the People

“We’ve got to pass health care now.  People are dying right now,” is what I heard Senator Harry Reid say before Christmas last week. Reid’s comment was not quite forthright. This bill will not help people “dying right now” – It does not take effect for a few years. Hence, the urgency was subterfuge – an artifice or expedient used to evade a rule, escape consequences, hide something.

For the last month, Congress has met under the cover of darkness, voting in the early a.m. hours deep in the weekends to push this reform forward.  On weekends, apparently, you do not have to answer your phones, so phone calls went unanswered from the people they represent. They shut the people’s voices down in this stealth attack.

These not-so- illustrious representatives have broken rules to stop the reading of the bill, shorten debate and keep the bill behind closed doors.  It boggles my mind that these “representatives” do not read the bills – they boast about not reading the bills.  If I did not read the essays I used to grade, I would be fired.  What kind of people are they to not read a bill that will change my life expectancy and take money out of my pocket? Capricious! Reckless! Unthinkable in real world business.  Maybe I would not read the small print in contracts either if I were irresponsible and somebody else was paying the bill – but then I would be foolish, inconsiderate, and immoral to act on wrong principles instead of right.

While the D.C. Federal government closed on a Monday morning due to harsh winter conditions, the Senate managed get to the Capitol, open it, and vote.  You know something is fishy when someone decides to work on a snow day! I could see this determination if we were in war, but we are not-or at least that is what our president says.  Why our president was not even notified of a foiled terrorist attack on one of our planes for three hours – is health care more important than our national security?  Is not that the only job specifically define for our representatives in the Constitution?

These representatives gave the little people an additional back-handed slap by voting on Weekends.  Do you realize that when they were meeting and voting on Saturdays, they did not have to answer their phones – because it was a weekend?

Deals in the dark smell – liars, cheats, thieves, and sell-outs deal in the dark – that is the modus operandi people use to shield you from seeing the truth. Jesus was betrayed and arrested under the cover of darkness – sold out by one within the inner circle – sold out for gold coins.

Which is what our Congress has done to us.  Just as surely as Judas betrayed Jesus, so did our Congressmen betray the people of this country. I would think buying votes was illegal – but vote-buying is splashed all over the front of the newspapers.  I guess Congress thinks the laws are only for people like me – like this insurance deal will be for people like me, while they get premium-Congress only policies.

Even more insidious than cutting deals in the dark of night behind closed doors is that the money my family earns, tithes from, thanks God for will be used to fund abortions – it will be required that each person contribute to abortion coverage in this new insurance deal they are cutting in these back rooms under the cover of darkness..  Lila Terhune in her book, Cross Pollination points out that every great move of God is preceded by the killing of children.  Granted, I want God to move, but I do not want the blood of unborn children on my hands from money taken out of my pocket and handed to my government.  Do you realize that most abortions are of the first born child? And my government wants me to pay for that?  I do not think so! Can I be a conscientious objector?

This is not a political blog – it is a blog about a simple mom raising American sons to be Godly young men worthy of the sacrifice that our ancestors and your ancestors made to live in this country – and as such, this discussion is about them. I want my sons raised in the free American where I was raised where through sheer work ethic and determination you can make a life better for your self, where you have the best medical care available in the world, and where you have the choice to lift up your fellow man-not a government-mandated choice, but a personal choice.

Last week, I watched the Jimmy Stuart movie, Mr. Smith Goes to Washington.  I recommend watching it.  It’s a lesson of our government at a time where when our representatives were held accountable for noble and ignoble actions.

Last week, Congress played foully with the American people while their attention was turned to their families, their faith, and the hustle and bustle of Christmas. Maybe there is a war going on and that is why they worked on Christmas Eve – Sadly, this war is against their own people.

Merry After-Christmas!

May you have a Merry After-Christmas season

full of Surprises

filled

with

blessings!

Simply ChristDay EveryDay

Morgan Weistling.com

My Savior, entered the world a baby, needing a mother’s love, strength and nuturing.  His mother held His hands to steady Him as He learned to walk.  She taught Him how to break the bread at supper. She encouraged His first words, so that His Father could be the Father to all men who believed in Him to enter the kingdom through Him and know that these promises were for every man, every ethnicity, every culture.

The Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit

made available to the whole world

offering to

“Strengthen the feeble hands,

 Steady the knees that give way,

 Say to those with fearful hearts,

‘Be strong,

do not fear,

your God will come,

He will come with vengeance

With divine retribution

He will come to save you’” (Isaiah 35:3-4)

Born a sweet, soft, baby to cuddle – so vulnerable, so helpless – the greatest Christmas gift of all – came to call me into His family so His Father would protect me with a vengance. 

Saving me and then saving me again!

Every day is a Christ Gift – not just Christmas!

 

Christmas Truffles

The Christmas Candy Trinity at our house consists of Truffles, Majeskas, and Bourbon Balls. Christmas Truffles have delighted my Christmas since I was old enough to walk. Rich, not too sweet, and totally decadent – the stuff culinary of dreams!

Christmas Truffles

1/2 Cup Sugar

4 tbsp. flour

2 Cup 1/2 &1/2

2 egg yolks

3 1/2 bags Ghiradelli semi-sweet Chocolate Chips

Mix sugar and flour, stirring together in a double boiler. Add 1/2 and 1/2 gradually.  Heat over double boiler, stirring constantly.  Add egg yolks slightly beaten.  Cook until thickened.  Cool.

Melt 3.5 bags of  semi-sweet chocolate chips.  Mix with custard.  Sit overnight.  Roll into balls.  Roll balls either in unsweetened cocoa or sprinkles of your color choice.

A Santa favorite!  Only sprinkles on Santa’s plate Christmas morning at our house!

 

The Devil of a Christmas

For You, Little Child

You who find happiness in a teddybear,

You with your innocent and curious stare.

For you. . . .

Well, that’s how my oldest son’s first Christmas poem I wrote started 23 years ago. The Thomas the Train has been packed away, along with the Knights jousting on horses with its castle walls. GI Joe’s have faded into I-don’t-know-where land while the 2nd and 3rd sons talk of joining the military. My 9 year old is in a gift-tween stage – Santa’s scratching his head over him. The junior is a gift-tween, too. I’m scratching my head, too!

However, Let me share what Santa’s bringing Joyful – I’m so excited. We saw the movie last year, “The Devil and Daniel Webster,” a 1941 movie about a farmer who sells his soul to the devil and Daniel Webster, a leading American Statesman in the early 1800s defends him to save his soul. Webster agrees to an “American judge and and American jury” but crafty Mr. Scratch calls forth a jury of the damned – historically fascinating. A great story about selling out noble ideals out of greed and fear and redemption. He has been asking me since then for the book. Well, Santa is bringing the play(never been a book or short story) and the movie.

Can a 14 year old still believe in Santa? He questioned it last year – yes, just last year. I just gave him the stare and said evenly, “As long as you believe in Santa, Santa brings you gifts.” Sadly, 13-year-olds are a bit obtuse, and I had to repeat it a few times, focusing the stare more intensely each time. I told him that if he look it up in my grandmother’s dictionary, he would find Santa, “A person who gives.” Then I repeated the code: “As long as you believe in Santa, Santa brings you gifts.” I still get gifts from Santa – my mom delivers them every year! Apparently, Santa has not learned of my change of address yet!

Santa also told me that Joyful should get a book of Daniel Webster’s speeches – HHhhhhmmmmm – more fun and more fun!

The Fire and Power of the H.S. (Holy Spirit) pointed out earlier this year in a discussion of Christmas Wish Lists: “If you just ask for 2 things you really want, then you get everything you ask for.” 

This will be my first Christmas without my firstborn, Perceiver of Truth. Something Christmasy is missing. He has written the letters to Santa for years, calling all the boys together to record their wishes, thanking for last year’s gifts.  Faithful just doesn’t have the same touch – imagine Scrooge before “the change.” Appalled sighs waft through the van when Christmas music comes on. I keep trying to shake off the “Bah Humbug’s” – but I have not given up. Perceiver of Truth is really going to miss the annual Christmas Nerf Gun Family Battle.  Santa always stuffs stockings with Nerf Guns and ammo.  You gotta be here to collect that one!

My mantle is decorated. “The Man who Came to Dinner,” “The Bishop’s Wife,” “It’s a Wonderful Life,” “Charlie Brown Christmas,” “White Christmas,” “The Polar Express,” “A Christmas Carol” and “The Nativity” are lined up for a snuggle night of Hot Chocolate.

Maybe I need to whip up some of my Uncle Luther’s homemade eggnog – that should kick some spirit into me!

Tonight the little guys and I pulled out “The Jesse Tree Devotional” – an advent book another website recommended – if it was you, please leave a note and I’ll link to your site – thanks so much. We sat down, and they loved it. One read the bible passage and the other the devotional in the book.  And the questions they asked, “Did God have a mom?” or “If everyone was killed in the flood, does that mean we’re all related?”

HHHHmmmm Christ = Christmas Spirit!   Joyful, Joyful We Adore Thee – Christ in Christmas makes Christmas meaningful.  Each Christmas brings change – the sound of the Christmas Bells on my Grandmother’s door, the faces of my children on Christmas morning, the types of gifts, the people around the table, and the decorations – all that changes.  Christ in Christmas does not change. That’s where Joy to the World,

“God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen”

(traditional English Carol, pre 1823)

“God rest ye merry, gentlemen,
Let nothing you dismay,
Remember Christ our Savior
Was born on Christmas day,
To save us all from Satan’s pow’r
When we were gone astray;
O tidings of comfort and joy,
Comfort and joy,
O tidings of comfort and joy.
From God our heavenly Father
A blessed angel came.
And unto certain shepherds
Brought tidings of the same,
How that in Bethlehem was born
The Son of God by name:
O tidings of comfort and joy,
Comfort and joy,
O tidings of comfort and joy.
The shepherds at those tidings
Rejoiced much in mind,
And left their flocks a-feeding,
In tempest, storm, and wind,
And went to Bethlehem straightway
This blessed babe to find:
O tidings of comfort and joy,
Comfort and joy,
O tidings of comfort and joy.
But when to Bethlehem they came,
Whereat this infant lay
They found him in a manger,
Where oxen feed on hay;
His mother Mary kneeling,
Unto the Lord did pray:
O tidings of comfort and joy,
Comfort and joy,
O tidings of comfort and joy.
Now to the Lord sing praises,
All you within this place,
And with true love and brotherhood
Each other now embrace;
This holy tide of Christmas
All others doth deface:
O tidings of comfort and joy,
Comfort and joy,
O tidings of comfort and joy. “

Grandmother’s Christmas Coffee Cake

 
It’s beginning to look like Christmas – the mantle is decorated, the snowman wreath is on the front door, and the stockings are up.  That means it is time for my Grandmother’s Christmas Coffee Cake which can be found coming out of my oven through Valentine’s Day.  A teacher’s gift, a Christmas morning staple, and some warm tangible love for my boys’ tummies – that’s Grandmother’s Christmas Coffee Cake.

Cream 2 Sticks Butter

Add 1/2 Cup Sugar

Blend two together until creamy

Add the following mixture 1/3 at a time to the creamy mixture: 2 Cups Sifted Flour, 1 tsp. Baking Powder, 1/2 tsp. Baking Soda

When mixed, add 3 well-beaten eggs

Next, add 1 Cup Sour Cream

Make a 1 tsp. cinnamon/3 tbsp. sugar mixture

Line 2 loaf pans with wax paper and scoop 1/4  + 1/4 of mixture into the bottom of each loaf.  Sprinkle sugar mixture liberally over the batter.  Scoop the remaining 1/4 + 1/4 into the loafs, topping of with liberal sprinkling of sugar mixture.

The recipe orginally called for a bundt cake, but they were too big for basket gifts and teacher gifts, so I started using loaf pans.  They freeze great, too, so you can make bunch and store for winter usage!

Bake at 350° for one hour.  Do not remove from oven until cooled.

 

From my house to yours, a very Merry Christmas – may this recipe bring to your house the smiles it brings to mine!

Sittin’ Down with God

 “You have been a refuge for the poor,

a refuge for the needy in his distress,

a shelter from the storm

and a shade from the heat”(Isaiah 25:4)

Injustice and unfairness used to tear me up inside, especially when it dealt with my children. One day a friend said, “You’re going to be going around this tree (i.e. the same problem/different situation) until you get this figured out.” 

Then one day a while later, I realized that instead of chasing this problem around this tree, I just needed stop chasing, sit down, and rest in the shadow God provided under that tree. 

God was the tree.  Instead of resting and letting God take care of it, I needed to let the problem go.  It sure is easier to sit in the shadow of His love, His protection, and His comfort.

Of course, this does not mean you should not have a dog-with-a-bone attitude about problem solving. A couch-potato mentality is not an over-coming mentality. It just means that obsessively thinking about an injustice or unfairness will just tear you up, leaving you on edge, turning you into a victim, no sleep, no peace.  Injustices come.  Life is unfair – blame it on Adam and Eve for that old apple.  That apple released Satan in our world to steal, kill and destroy. However, God overcomes!  Amazingly, if you will let Him, for every injustice, God Blesses.  His blessings are always bigger than an injustice.

I still get riled up – those patterns of behavior are hard to break.  However, it has gotten easier to stop those thoughts.  I did not think it possible, but nothing is impossible for God.

During this Christmas season, sit in the shadow of God’s cooling, comforting presence.  Stop, listen and just sit with God. Sometimes you do not even need to say anything. We always think about God-time as prayer/communication time – asking, praising, repenting, thanking, reading His word.  It is also work – a helping hand to a stranger, a friend, family, or church community.  However, just sitting with God, just being with God, in the quiet, watching those Christmas lights twinkle, the snow fall, or cars pass by outside your window – that is important, too!

Calling God, Help Needed in Aisle 3

The Family received some heart-wrenching news today.  I was praying about it on the way to Hobby Lobby – I know, you are thinking heart-wrenching? Hobby Lobby?  Huh? Well, yes! And, yes! All I can say is that life is like that. I always focus on the little things in a big storm – “Gotta plug that Christmas tree in! Gotta replace that falling-apart Garland. . . Gotta take care of the little things so it seems like something is getting taken care of.”

Here I am in a new town with new people  and tons of family – and I was sorely missing, needing my support system.  Where I came from, I could always find someone to pray with – in the grocery story, at my kids’ school, at the coffee shop.  If I needed, God always sent someone across my path to help lift me up when I was down.

Tears welled up – a double punch – the heart-wrenching and the missing was like a double wave trying to knock the faith out of me. I went to the back where the garland was since my fresh garland had died, dropping little pines onto the floor. Staring, thinking, praying – sometimes you know how you do it all at once – “Garland. . .Garland. . . Dear Jesus, . . .Blank Space. . .help me. . .Garland. . . Miss home. . . . Looking for . . . Faith. . . so lonely. . .” Yes, not an effective way to pray or shop – but sometimes that is how moments are.

I turned – and standing behind me was a friend who had moved here a few years before I had.  We had not had the chance to get together since I moved back, but there she was.  She hugged me and the tears pushed upward so wanting to spill out. 

She told me, “I just talked to my husband before as I was walking in and said, ‘ I forgot why I came.’”

But that’s God for you.  He knew I needed help. And he sent someone to pray with me.

So, if you were in Hobby Lobby today and saw two woment with bent heads, clasping hands, talking quietly - that was my friend praying for me – yes, in the back of Hobby Lobby where the wreathes were – God was there today!

Thank you, God!

The Obama Grinch who Almost Stole the Christ out of Christmas

 A majority of Americans

down in USAville

like the Christmas Nativity A LOT

But the Obama Grinch

who lived in the White House

DID NOT!

“Stuff it in a box! Put it Away!

We will NOT have a Jesus Christmas Today!”

Now, please don’t ask why.  No one quite knows the reason.

America was founded on the Reason for the Season

It could be that American History was neglected while raised in lands afar 

and did not realize the freedom  to worship Our Lord brought folks from as far as Zanzibar.

But I think that the most likely reasons whether BIG or small

might be that he didn’t understand the Spirit of America

AT ALL!

Until little Media Sue who blew his plan out of the snow

“Why are you taking our Christmas Nativity out of our White House Home?”

Caught red-handed, no tele-prompter rescue in sight,

The Obama Grinch hemmed and hawed, experienced a moment of fright

But, you know, that old Obama Grinch was so smart and so quick. 

He put that Christmas Creche out lickety split!

I find myself greatly disappointed that any president would even think of not celebrating the birth of Christ at Christmas time.  Being American is synonymous with Christ in Christmas. Though we welcome different beliefs, abhor persecution for those differences,  open arms do not mean we must step off the foundation of Judeo-Christian values America was built upon and replace them.

I do not understand our president’s position.  My grandmother would not understand his position.  My great-grandmother who loved our Lord dearly would not have understood his position.  I pray my children and their children never understand his position- “As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord,”(Joshua 24: 15) -

• “Why is it that, next to the birthday of the Savior of the world, your most joyous and most venerated festival returns on this day [the Fourth of July]?” “Is it not that, in the chain of human events, the birthday of the nation is indissolubly linked with the birthday of the Savior? That it forms a leading event in the progress of the Gospel dispensation? Is it not that the Declaration of Independence first organized the social compact on the foundation of the Redeemer’s mission upon earth? That it laid the cornerstone of human government upon the first precepts of Christianity”?
  –1837, John Quincy Adams, at the age of 69, when he delivered a Fourth of July speech at Newburyport, Massachusetts.
•  “ God governs in the affairs of man. And if a sparrow cannot fall to the ground without his notice, is it probable that an empire can rise without His aid? We have been assured in the Sacred Writings that except the Lord build the house, they labor in vain that build it. I firmly believe this. I also believe that, without His concurring aid, we shall succeed in this political building no better than the builders of Babel” –Benjamin Franklin, Constitutional Convention of 1787 | original manuscript of this speech 
• “In Benjamin Franklin’s 1749 plan of education for public schools in Pennsylvania, he insisted that schools teach ‘the excellency of the Christian religion above all others, ancient or modern.’”
•  ”Without Religion this World would be Something not fit to be mentioned in polite Company, I mean Hell.” – John Adams to Thomas Jefferson, April 19, 1817 |
  “
• Let divines and philosophers, statesmen and patriots, unite their endeavors to renovate the age by impressing the minds of men with the importance of educating their little boys and girls, inculcating in the minds of youth the fear and love of the Deity… and leading them in the study and practice of the exalted virtues of the Christian system.” [October 4, 1790] – Samuel Adams

 

© Copyright, Blue Cotton Memory, 12/08/2009

Sing We Now of Christmas – Songs for the Season!

 

So many Christmas songs are scriptural – at a time when most Christians could not read or have access to a bible, a Christmas song imprinted the story of Jesus on the heart of its singers. How many children know where Jesus was born because of “Oh, Little Town of Bethlehem”(1868) or “We Three Kings of Orient Are”(1857)  and “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen”(15th century). Maybe that is why some Christmas songs uplift and the essence of the joyful spirit lingers – like Belgium Chocolates – pure, rich, true – because the spirit of praise and worship pours from our mouths in great joy. 

Many of my favorite songs stem from the majest, power, mystery, and gentleness of the birth of our Lord.  However, other favorites stem from childhood memories of home, Christmas, and the magic in a child’s belief – the intense savoring of a feeling or image in a song.

Some of My Favorite Christmas Songs are listed below:

1)”Angels We Have Heard on High,” My Christmas, Andrea Bocelli (added boon is “Adeste Fidelis” and “God Bless Us Everyone” from “A Christmas Carol”).  I first discovered Bocelli  in The Mystery of Love presented by Victoria Secrete.  I would waltz my son to sleep at night listening to his music in his little cd player. Magical! His song “Angels We Have Heard on High” allows me a glimpse of the power, majesty, and utter beauty of the music surrounding our Lord on his heavenly throne. I just stop, mesmerized and awed.  When we saw “A Christmas Carol” my crew was booking out of the theatre and I just lingered, listening to “God Bless Us Everyone.”

2) “Ding Dong Merrily on High,”(circa.1500′)s Roger Whitteaker. Bells peel in an everyman song, where everyone has the range to chime in heartily with, “Gloria, Hosanna in excelsis!.” While Bocelli is for listening, this is for joining in!

3) “Sing We Now of Christmas/O come O Come Emmanuel,” Michael W. Smith (12th century for O Come O Come Emmanuel) – For years I have bemoaned the fact that there just are not any new Christmas songs that demand to be included in my Christmas Celebrations. Were all the good ones written before I was born – and then inspiration dried up?  Michael W. Smith rescues my faith with this spectacularly Christmas spirited 21st Century remix. 

3) ”Silver Bells,”(1950) Kate Smith - This is where you find out that I am old as dirt.  When I was 4 years old, I sat in my basement beside the record player, constantly moving the needle to the beginning of this song.  I am sure my mother heard it well over 100 times that day. Pre-Mall era, my mother would take me on the city bus down town to marble exterior department stores, mile high glass windows that sparkled with lights to shop – and Christmas shop – “City Sides Walks, Busy Side Walks dressed in a holiday style” sparkled in my mind – with men in red ringing bells on every street corner.

4) “Little Drummer Boy/Peace on Earth,”(1977), Bing Crosy and David Bowie – Through I do not know what buttered rum tasks like, I think Bing Crosy’s voice must be smooth like buttered rum!  “Little Drummer Boy” just by itself is a favorite, but when you add David Bowie’s amazing voice and message of “Peace on Earth” it provides a dichotomy that adds a beautiful layer to the song’s presentation.

5) “Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy,” The Nutcracker,” 1891- Sometimes words just are not needed – and sometimes you need something wordless! This fits the bill perfectly!

6) “Mary’s Boy Child Jesus Christ”, Harry Belafonte, 1956

7) Charlie Brown Christmas – This is the way to my husband’s heart!  He LOVES the music.  We used it on the wedding video I made for my son’s rehearsal dinner (it covered when he was little).  For my husband, Christmas is not Christmas without this show or music! Since he loves, I love it along with him!

“Twas the Night Before Christmas” (Fred Waring and The Pennsylvanians) Time Life  – Soloists, Glee Club Singers, Orchestra – A definite let’s-decorate-the-tree song – and the best way to hear The Night Before Christmas!

 

 

 

 

9) Let it Snow! Let it Snow! Let it Snow!, Lena Horn, Time Life - Nobody sings about snow better than Bing Crosy and Lena Horn. This is one song that follows me into the snowy season of January and February.  However, my sons were appalled when I popped it in last January while it was snowing.  It’s also a great song that less than sterling singers like me can belt out anywhere (lyrics are tremendously easy!).

10) Away in a Manger(1885), Gene Autrey, Time Life – Away in the Manger – a song unto it self – celebrating Christ’s birth and my children’s bedtime lullaby! Last, but definitely not least!

Holy Spirit, Snow Down on Me!

The Snow Trees Have Come!

Holy Spirit Rain Down on Me

in Snowflakes

so that I might better see

your Holy presence

when my eyes are blinded

and my spirit weary

when I am too numb to feel,

may your presence linger

like snow on trees

 

The Not-So-Christmas Hat

No bows around here!  No headbands in pinks and polka dots or glittery bling.  However, there is one must-have accessory – Hats. 

Big Hats 

That they grow into 

Party Hats

 A Cool Cat in the Hat

Do You Like My Hat?

The Boy in the Hat does not Care

Hats for Snow 

And in the Cold

Ear Warming Hats

Cowboy Hats

Christmas Morning Hats

Hats!

Hats!

Hats!

Happier in Hats than in Scarves!

Mom in a Hat (I got knitty with it!)

 Goggle Man Hat

Tobaggons

 My Boys Love Hats

 

My oldest son for Christmas would love a Stetson Firenze Hat. My littlest guy and I had been tooling around the new town while his other brother was at archery practice.  We went in this dapper store and found a delightful variety of mens hats!  He was so excited.  He wanted to get his biggest brother one, and one for him, too.  I checked out the price – $49.95.  HHHmmmmm, I could swing that.  A few weeks later, my lovely DIL visited for Thanksgiving.  We measured my sons head, packed up the two little guys and went to do a little Christmas shopping. 

The trouble these two men went to to pack this hat – amazing,I thought.  What service!  “$132.00,” the sales clerk said.  My DIL and I stared blankly at him, and then at each other – assessingly. I countered, “$49.95.”  He pulled a price out from within the hate.  I swallowed – a lot of pride. “We’ll have to think about that,” I said.  My little guys were crushed.  We all felt this way:

And I bet my oldest son is having a flashback: 

Isn’t it fortunate that Hats are NOT the reason for the season?