Holloway: Mommy, do boys and girls have babies? Like, I mean, have babies grow in their tummies?
Mommy: Uh no, sweetie, just girls have babies grow in their tummies. Women, actually, ....and they have to be married!
Holloway: So, you're sure? No boys at all can grow babies in their tummies?
Mommy: Right, just mommies, and only girls can be mommies.
Holloway: Oh, thank God!
I about DIED laughing!!
Saturday, October 31, 2009
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
My Grandma
My grandmother is in the last stages of life today. She has entered into the stage of "battled breathing," and the doctors have said it will be "minutes to hours" before she passes.
A while back, I wrote my first of a few essays talking about her life. That first essay highlighted her sin nature of attempting to control her image by controlling everyone else around her. She did a lot of damage to my mother emotionally and psychologically. But in the grand scheme of her life, she was an amazing woman. My plan was to build up to highlighting the redeeming qualities that have shined through in her life, the qualities that are truly a reflection of Christ's love for us. That is still my plan, it just got delayed by life - I had hoped to have it done before she passed. So, as I am mourning this loss, I want to get back on track with telling her story.
My grandmother was born on June 1, 1918. She was the 4th of 6 children - 2 boys, Wheeler and Andy, and 4 girls - Nancy Alta (my grandmother), Rena, Hester, and Cleo. They lived in a house on an Ozark mountain ridge. They were very poor but survived on the food from their garden and from the chickens that they raised. She did go to school and through the 8th grade, which was unusual for a girl during the time in that part of the country. She had a very loving family.
My grandmother was sort of the ugly duckling in her family. Though these traits are much adored in our culture today, she was tall and had sharp features and was not considered a beauty in her time. At the age of 24, she was labeled an "old maid." So, when an older widowed man showed interest in marrying her, she thought it would be the best deal she would get. He was in his 40's and already had 8 children from his previous wife, who died giving birth to that eighth child. He was a business man in a nearby town, Neosho, MO, and she began working in his office during the betrothal. She enjoyed dressing up and going to work everyday in his office. She enjoyed managing the daily office duties and getting to socialize in town every day. However, soon after marrying, she felt the sting of the realization that her husband, Charles C. Risley, had married her so that he could have someone to clean his house, cook meals, and take care of his other children. He showed very little affection, much less love, for his wife.
His oldest daughters were only a few years younger than my grandmother. Their husbands were fighting in the war overseas, so they were living at home. This proved to be quite unpleasant for the new bride. The youngest girl, Edna, was only 9, and my grandmother wanted to nurture her and care for her, but she wasn't allowed to by the older sisters. So, she lived day in and day out, in a household where she was treated as "the help" by everyone, including her own husband.
A couple of years down the line, my grandmother became pregnant with my mother, Charlotte. The family blood tie finally gave my grandmother a legitimate place among my mother's half siblings and her father. Though they were never overflowing with love, good relationships began forming, and my grandmother now had the joy of raising her daughter. Charles may not have treated my grandmother with the love and respect deserved to a wife, but he did love his children, my mother included, and there was never a doubt about that.
When my mother was nine, she came down with Rheumatic Fever, one of those things that we get vaccinated for today that often killed children and old people. She was bedridden for about 10 months. During this time, my grandmother became pregnant with her second child, Sammie. Unbeknownst to her and the rest of the family, Charles was facing bankruptcy. He attempted to open a restuarant (to be named Charlee after my mother and after one of his other daughters, Anna Lee) and had failed. In the 1940's bankruptcy was even more of a shameful event for a family to endure than it is today. He believed that his only option was to rid his family of his disgrace by ending his life. He walked out into a field with his revolver and committed the ultimate act of selfishness in an attempt to save his family from shame. The local newspapers exploited the event, declaring that he had killed himself because of a failed business and a "sick daughter" referring to my mother's rheumatic fever. No one, including my grandmother, ever told my mother that his death wasn't her fault.
With nothing left for support, my grandmother, the second wife, pregnant and with a 9-yr-old daughter, was forced to move in with her oldest step-son and his wife. Again, she was relegated to the status of housekeeper. Soon after having her second baby, a girl she named Sammie, she got a job as a maid and she somehow supported her 2 children. Being a single mom and a maid in a small town in the 1950's was no small feat. However, she saw my mother through graduation from high school who then moved to live with her rebellious aunt in Chicago, my grandmother's sister who had run off to the big city as soon as she turned 18.
More to come. This is sort of just a shell of her story...I'd like to fill in the details one day, perhaps make it a historical novel.
A while back, I wrote my first of a few essays talking about her life. That first essay highlighted her sin nature of attempting to control her image by controlling everyone else around her. She did a lot of damage to my mother emotionally and psychologically. But in the grand scheme of her life, she was an amazing woman. My plan was to build up to highlighting the redeeming qualities that have shined through in her life, the qualities that are truly a reflection of Christ's love for us. That is still my plan, it just got delayed by life - I had hoped to have it done before she passed. So, as I am mourning this loss, I want to get back on track with telling her story.
My grandmother was born on June 1, 1918. She was the 4th of 6 children - 2 boys, Wheeler and Andy, and 4 girls - Nancy Alta (my grandmother), Rena, Hester, and Cleo. They lived in a house on an Ozark mountain ridge. They were very poor but survived on the food from their garden and from the chickens that they raised. She did go to school and through the 8th grade, which was unusual for a girl during the time in that part of the country. She had a very loving family.
My grandmother was sort of the ugly duckling in her family. Though these traits are much adored in our culture today, she was tall and had sharp features and was not considered a beauty in her time. At the age of 24, she was labeled an "old maid." So, when an older widowed man showed interest in marrying her, she thought it would be the best deal she would get. He was in his 40's and already had 8 children from his previous wife, who died giving birth to that eighth child. He was a business man in a nearby town, Neosho, MO, and she began working in his office during the betrothal. She enjoyed dressing up and going to work everyday in his office. She enjoyed managing the daily office duties and getting to socialize in town every day. However, soon after marrying, she felt the sting of the realization that her husband, Charles C. Risley, had married her so that he could have someone to clean his house, cook meals, and take care of his other children. He showed very little affection, much less love, for his wife.
His oldest daughters were only a few years younger than my grandmother. Their husbands were fighting in the war overseas, so they were living at home. This proved to be quite unpleasant for the new bride. The youngest girl, Edna, was only 9, and my grandmother wanted to nurture her and care for her, but she wasn't allowed to by the older sisters. So, she lived day in and day out, in a household where she was treated as "the help" by everyone, including her own husband.
A couple of years down the line, my grandmother became pregnant with my mother, Charlotte. The family blood tie finally gave my grandmother a legitimate place among my mother's half siblings and her father. Though they were never overflowing with love, good relationships began forming, and my grandmother now had the joy of raising her daughter. Charles may not have treated my grandmother with the love and respect deserved to a wife, but he did love his children, my mother included, and there was never a doubt about that.
When my mother was nine, she came down with Rheumatic Fever, one of those things that we get vaccinated for today that often killed children and old people. She was bedridden for about 10 months. During this time, my grandmother became pregnant with her second child, Sammie. Unbeknownst to her and the rest of the family, Charles was facing bankruptcy. He attempted to open a restuarant (to be named Charlee after my mother and after one of his other daughters, Anna Lee) and had failed. In the 1940's bankruptcy was even more of a shameful event for a family to endure than it is today. He believed that his only option was to rid his family of his disgrace by ending his life. He walked out into a field with his revolver and committed the ultimate act of selfishness in an attempt to save his family from shame. The local newspapers exploited the event, declaring that he had killed himself because of a failed business and a "sick daughter" referring to my mother's rheumatic fever. No one, including my grandmother, ever told my mother that his death wasn't her fault.
With nothing left for support, my grandmother, the second wife, pregnant and with a 9-yr-old daughter, was forced to move in with her oldest step-son and his wife. Again, she was relegated to the status of housekeeper. Soon after having her second baby, a girl she named Sammie, she got a job as a maid and she somehow supported her 2 children. Being a single mom and a maid in a small town in the 1950's was no small feat. However, she saw my mother through graduation from high school who then moved to live with her rebellious aunt in Chicago, my grandmother's sister who had run off to the big city as soon as she turned 18.
More to come. This is sort of just a shell of her story...I'd like to fill in the details one day, perhaps make it a historical novel.
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
What the kids are doing
I mainly use this blog to document learnings and funny things my kids do because I have such a terrible memory. It's good for me to look back and read about experiences and be reminded of how amazing God is and how faithful He is to me and our family.
Right now, I just want to jot down a collection of funny things the kids have said and/or done for posterity.
Bren: Bren is a princess, or "pinpess," as she declares. She's totally into dressing up the part all day and night and talking about how "ya-ya is a pince" and me and Scott are the king and queen. She loves watching Sleeping Beauty and Cinderella. She sings along to the opening songs, but I haven't been able to catch her on video yet. She always sees me and then stops singing! She also wants to always read either Sleeping Beauty or Beauty and the Beast at bedtime and at naptime.
She's really enjoying Halloween, and everything she sees that has anything to do with Halloween, she looks at and says, "Ooooh scary spookies!" in a funny whispery voice. It's the cutest thing ever. She likes to pretend to change her baby's diaper but only when she's in her little playhouse in the backyard. Then she will just as quickly leave the baby lying in the dirt when it's time to go inside and watch a princess movie. She LOVES people...she loves to play with our neighbor, Gracie, and some other friends down the street, Mallory and Ethan. She loves to get out and do things...she hates being cooped up in the house for too long. I'm afraid she may be an extrovert which is quite frightening to my introverted soul!
Holloway: Holloway is in 1st grade at HCCSA. His best friends are Calloway, Geneva, Elias, Morgan, and Julia. His favorite outside games are frisbee and tag. He likes to play basketball, golf, and tennis. He loves almost all board games - right now, it's Uno Spin. He loves to watch Biggest Loser and America's Got Talent. He really likes to sing and dance. He doesn't really play with many toys, but he does like Bakugans...he makes up his own little stories and uses them as characters. He actually does this with a lot of stuff - the other day, he was making a little play with the two knobs on the end of the strings for the blinds. Holloway's biggest interest though is video games...and he's really good at them. We do let him play quite a bit on the weekends because he gets almost no time for them during the week. Since he goes to school all day and then is in after school care for 2 hours and then it takes us an hour to pick up bren and finally get home, and then by the time he eats, takes a bath, and does his homework, it's time for bed. So, we pretty let him totally slack off on the weekends. He gets up on Saturday and watches about 2 hours of cartoons, then he just runs around the house goofing off and playing outside, then we have lunch and then he gets to play Wii and/or Nintendo DS while Bren naps. It's his favorite day of the week, to say the least.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Shifting Control of our Image
I just listened online to the 3rd lesson of the Gracepath study at HCBC this Fall. The lesson is on shifting control of our image over to God, and I experienced a pretty significant epiphany as a result of this lesson.
I have gained a lot of weight since having my 2nd child. There are lots of reasons - broke my foot and was immobile for a few months, working mom syndrome of too busy and feel too guilty to take time out for myself to exercise, etc. Well, a few months ago, I got really determined to finally do something about it...and I failed miserably - ended up gaining 15 more lbs. I was so frustrated because I lost about 60 lbs when I was 19 and did it in about 5 months, so I started to beat myself up for not meeting that standard. I would start out and say to myself, "if you can't stick to this diet and exercise plan, then you're a failure, you're worthless and you might as well just gain 100 lbs. and be done with it." So, when I would eat one thing off the plan, that was it...I had failed and I might as well just give up. So, I've been on this roller coaster for several months until a few weeks ago. God has been working overtime on me in several areas, one of those being my problem with codependency. Well, as a result of the healing I've experienced from dealing with that, I've learned to value and love myself as God loves me, so I can no longer beat myself up like that - I understand that it's really an offense to God when I treat myself that way. So, as a result of this change in perception, I've been taking better care of my body without even thinking about it...I've been wanting to eat the best food I can and to move my body and get my body working the way that God designed it to - I even started to spend the time on getting chiropractic care again and spend money on supplements I need to get healthy.
I've been doing this but still have been harboring this need to appear a certain way to people...I've still had this disgust with the way I look, and it's been so confusing because I do value myself and I am now taking care of myself, so why should I still hate what I see in the mirror?
Well, I realized after this lesson today that what I'm hating is the image that others are seeing...deep down, I'm concerned that they're looking at me and thinking, "oh she must have no self control to have let herself go like that." And I have this raging need to explain myself to people and be sure they understand that I gained weight because I broke my foot and couldn't move for 5 months and that I've not been able to lose it because I'm a working mom and my husband works nights and I have no time to exercise, and we can't afford to spend money on the healthiest foods and don't have time to cook, etc. etc. I'm trying desperately to control what people think of me when they look at me and see a fat woman. And then, of course, I can't control what people think, so when I look in the mirror, I am subconsiously blaming myself for not being able to control what they think of me...after all, if I weren't so fat, I wouldn't have to control what they think...they would think good things about me if I were thin and fit. (Hmmm....maybe that codependency thing isn't conquered after all.)
Wow, so now what do i do with that realization? I give all of that over to God. I surrender control of what others think to Him.
I feel like Mel Gibson at the end of Braveheart....."Freeeeedom!"
I have gained a lot of weight since having my 2nd child. There are lots of reasons - broke my foot and was immobile for a few months, working mom syndrome of too busy and feel too guilty to take time out for myself to exercise, etc. Well, a few months ago, I got really determined to finally do something about it...and I failed miserably - ended up gaining 15 more lbs. I was so frustrated because I lost about 60 lbs when I was 19 and did it in about 5 months, so I started to beat myself up for not meeting that standard. I would start out and say to myself, "if you can't stick to this diet and exercise plan, then you're a failure, you're worthless and you might as well just gain 100 lbs. and be done with it." So, when I would eat one thing off the plan, that was it...I had failed and I might as well just give up. So, I've been on this roller coaster for several months until a few weeks ago. God has been working overtime on me in several areas, one of those being my problem with codependency. Well, as a result of the healing I've experienced from dealing with that, I've learned to value and love myself as God loves me, so I can no longer beat myself up like that - I understand that it's really an offense to God when I treat myself that way. So, as a result of this change in perception, I've been taking better care of my body without even thinking about it...I've been wanting to eat the best food I can and to move my body and get my body working the way that God designed it to - I even started to spend the time on getting chiropractic care again and spend money on supplements I need to get healthy.
I've been doing this but still have been harboring this need to appear a certain way to people...I've still had this disgust with the way I look, and it's been so confusing because I do value myself and I am now taking care of myself, so why should I still hate what I see in the mirror?
Well, I realized after this lesson today that what I'm hating is the image that others are seeing...deep down, I'm concerned that they're looking at me and thinking, "oh she must have no self control to have let herself go like that." And I have this raging need to explain myself to people and be sure they understand that I gained weight because I broke my foot and couldn't move for 5 months and that I've not been able to lose it because I'm a working mom and my husband works nights and I have no time to exercise, and we can't afford to spend money on the healthiest foods and don't have time to cook, etc. etc. I'm trying desperately to control what people think of me when they look at me and see a fat woman. And then, of course, I can't control what people think, so when I look in the mirror, I am subconsiously blaming myself for not being able to control what they think of me...after all, if I weren't so fat, I wouldn't have to control what they think...they would think good things about me if I were thin and fit. (Hmmm....maybe that codependency thing isn't conquered after all.)
Wow, so now what do i do with that realization? I give all of that over to God. I surrender control of what others think to Him.
I feel like Mel Gibson at the end of Braveheart....."Freeeeedom!"
Saturday, August 29, 2009
what's going on...
So life has been full of growth and excitement over the last 2 months. For one, Holloway started 1st grade! Wah! He's loving it and has adjusted well. I think we've started a new tradition of going night swimming on the night before the 1st day of school. I know that's kind of going against the grain of getting to bed extra early, but I think it was about 105 degrees on the day before school this year (no not exaggerating), and when we tried to play outside with the kids at 7:30pm, hoping that the temp would be bearable by that time, my husband said, "let's just go swimming!" So, we did! And it was awesome, so from now on, you can find us at the pool on the night before the first day of school, soaking up some moon rays.
About a month ago, Scott and I started doing something together that we've never done before in our lives...serving TOGETHER in ministry! We're leading discussion groups at the young adult gathering, and it's been pretty awesome so far. I know that, for me, I'm learning SO much about myself. I'm actually taking quite a beating to be honest...refining those selfish tendencies I have to talk too much about my own life rather than ask questions of others and build relationships based on knowing them rather than them wanting to know me. Examining what I can do better. Truly learning to live for others rather than live inside my own head. Being honest. It's not easy but it sure is good for me.
One fun thing about the last few weeks is that after our night before school swimming outing, we've been going to the pool a lot more and really enjoying it. We suspended our satellite service for the school year, so we're watching a lot less tv. We rented seasons one and two of Dexter and just finished those up last weekend...wow, great show. We're learning how to create margin in our lives by doing what's important, not just what we want to do. That means more time with our kids, more time doing God's work, more time worshipping Him, and a whole lot LESS stress.
Lastly, this is probably my favorite time of the year. The beginning of the school year always causes those little butterflies of anticipation to start fluttering around, making me feel wistful, eagerly antipating what's around the corner. For the first 5 years that we lived in TX, I was actually extremely depressed at this time of year because of the heat. I thought I would NEVER be able to accept a Fall season where the temp never drops below 85 (and lingers in the mid-90's most of the time). But as my body has acclimated, so has my soul. A cool Fall breeze is nice but isn't worth a hill of beans compared to the incredible community that God has blessed us with here in Austin. So rather than begrudge the fact that I can't wear cozy sweaters and rake up pretty leaves, I've decided to soak up the sun, as well as the joy we have from all that God has given us. Heck, maybe we'll even have a Halloween pool party!
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Confetti and Epiphanies
This week at our church is a big week - there are Back Yard Bible Clubs happening all over the city, our middle schoolers have been battling it out every day in Xtreme Adventure, and tomorrow night we get to have Summerfest and celebrate all of the awesome things God has done this week.
This morning, the church staff got an email from our exec. pastor encouraging us to come help clean up one of the auditoriums after about 500 kids had wrecked havoc there. There was even a promise of free pizza. When the exec. pastor encourages something and there's free food, I'm there. I wasn't exactly being motivated by the spirit of serving, but whatever the motivation, I was gonna go.
So, I get there a little late and my job is to cut confetti. We have a large paper cutter, and 2 of us get a rhythm going of her feeding the paper under the blade while I brought the blade down. It only took about 15 mins. for my back to start to hurt from the awkward position it was in, not to mention for my arms to ache and my feet to hurt. I kept going for a little longer, took a break, then went at it again. As I brought the blade down over and over again, I suddenly became filled with an overwhelming sense of thankfulness that I was standing there cutting paper with an aching body. A flood of thoughts and images filled my mind - I thought about how awesome it was that on a Thursday afternoon, I was in this church surrounded by excited students, cutting paper into confetti. I thought about what the alternatives might be. On a Thursday afternoon in another reality, I might be sitting at a desk in a job I hate, with a boss I hate, doing stuff I hate...all day long. Or maybe I would be sitting on my couch at home, jobless, wondering how I was going to feed my kids or pay my bills. Or I might be on a battlefield in the middle east, fearing for my life. Then my thoughts broadened to include my kids and my whole family. If we weren't a part of such an awesome church family, my kids wouldn't be hearing the Word of God and learning how much He loves us. My son wouldn't have prayed to receive Christ at his Back Yard Bible Club. We wouldn't have a safe place to heal from our hurts, habits, and hang-ups.
Suddenly, I was extremely thankful for my sore back, aching arm, and tired feet. Suddenly, I felt the blessing of serving.
This morning, the church staff got an email from our exec. pastor encouraging us to come help clean up one of the auditoriums after about 500 kids had wrecked havoc there. There was even a promise of free pizza. When the exec. pastor encourages something and there's free food, I'm there. I wasn't exactly being motivated by the spirit of serving, but whatever the motivation, I was gonna go.
So, I get there a little late and my job is to cut confetti. We have a large paper cutter, and 2 of us get a rhythm going of her feeding the paper under the blade while I brought the blade down. It only took about 15 mins. for my back to start to hurt from the awkward position it was in, not to mention for my arms to ache and my feet to hurt. I kept going for a little longer, took a break, then went at it again. As I brought the blade down over and over again, I suddenly became filled with an overwhelming sense of thankfulness that I was standing there cutting paper with an aching body. A flood of thoughts and images filled my mind - I thought about how awesome it was that on a Thursday afternoon, I was in this church surrounded by excited students, cutting paper into confetti. I thought about what the alternatives might be. On a Thursday afternoon in another reality, I might be sitting at a desk in a job I hate, with a boss I hate, doing stuff I hate...all day long. Or maybe I would be sitting on my couch at home, jobless, wondering how I was going to feed my kids or pay my bills. Or I might be on a battlefield in the middle east, fearing for my life. Then my thoughts broadened to include my kids and my whole family. If we weren't a part of such an awesome church family, my kids wouldn't be hearing the Word of God and learning how much He loves us. My son wouldn't have prayed to receive Christ at his Back Yard Bible Club. We wouldn't have a safe place to heal from our hurts, habits, and hang-ups.
Suddenly, I was extremely thankful for my sore back, aching arm, and tired feet. Suddenly, I felt the blessing of serving.
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