If you declare with your mouth, “Jesus is Lord,” and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved. (Romans 10:9 NIV)
I know I've used this verse before in a post a while back, but it's a good one. And I must share this cute little story. This past Sunday, as it was the first Sunday of the month, it was time for communion. Usually, my little guy is in Children's Church, but he is now a big-time second grader and doesn't get to go back with the younger kids. So he sat down beside Jay and I after the children's sermon.
The congregation said our Affirmation of Faith in unison and our preacher started the communion process. He always invites anyone who has Jesus in their hearts to partake in the communion. As soon as he said this, my sweet boy raised his hand and smiled. I thought I would burst. Jay saw it too. It was adorable. He has taken communion before but he has never been out in the sanctuary for the whole process so this was all new to him. Our elders deliver the sacraments back to the nursery so that the leader and any children back there who have accepted Christ can partake. I knew he had had communion in children's church but I had never thought about him missing the service part of it.
It was absolutely priceless. One of those moments where you just want to high-five your child and say, YES! He gets it. He was super excited about Jesus being in his heart. He raised his hand with a smile. He was not embarrased. We were in the second pew. He didn't worry about what the people behind us thought. I wanted to stand up and say, hey, we should all be raising our hands with a beaming smile, shouldn't we? Instead I'm guessing if you look out over the crowd, you would see faces with very serious looks, a few tears and maybe even heads bowed. I'm not saying it's not a very serious ceremony that should become some sort of dance party or something, but maybe just once we should raise our hands and exclaim our excitement. What do you say? Are you with me? :)
Thursday, September 8, 2011
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
Stupid chickens, I hate chickens.
All my life my grandma has told me stories of how she hated chickens. Her family raised them and she has carried with her a hatred of chickens and their feathers ever since. Jay decided we needed to raise chickens. So Jay took the kids and they bought 25 chickens at Rural King. We had one of the bloodhounds at the time and Abby. For the first week or so, they stayed in the basement in the utility room...far, far away from me. They were pretty simple then. They were tiny and didn't really require much care...for a while.
Then they started stinkin' and I booted them outside. Once they were relocated outside, in probably one week's time, we had lost a handful of chickens. Their heads were tweaked right off their bodies through the cage. We are guessing it was a combination of dogs and turkey buzzards although I still say dogs, plain and simple. It came to pass that we had one hen, three roosters and a duck, with one deformed wing, (from the scramble at the fair) remaining out of the 25. You can imagine the horror the hen suffered at the mercy of three very competitive roosters.
These animals just roamed our yard. We would come home and they would be in the garage on the top step that goes into the house. And "they" would be the hen, three roosters, the duck, a bloodhound and a lab. Seriously, it was party central. Or we'd come home and they would be on top of the deep freeze, I suppose because of it's warmth on the outside. In fact, the hen started laying her eggs on top of the deep freeze in the garage!!! There was one instance when there was chicken poo on the trunk of my little gray car in the garage. It was outrageous.
One afternoon in particular I remember going out to feed them and on my way back to the house, it was just like a scene from a thriller movie. I would take a few steps and hear something, so I would stop, the noise stopped. I would start again, hear the noise and stop. The noise would stop again. I would turn around and that stupid mean rooster (one was far meaner than the others) was following me, ready to attack. It got so bad that I would only go out there with a broom to defend myself.
Finally, we had had enough. The kids hated the taste of the eggs (I realize they're supposed to taste better), and I hate eggs in general unless they're mixed in a cake, brownie or cookie batter so there was really not point to these creatures except their poop was everywhere and the one rooster was mean. We gave them away, a couple of them to Madolyn's friend and a couple to my brother. I think my brother even decided the mean rooster had to go. He was so vicious.
That is the story of the stupid chickens. I try to never say never, but I sure hope that we never, ever, ever have chickens again, period.
Then they started stinkin' and I booted them outside. Once they were relocated outside, in probably one week's time, we had lost a handful of chickens. Their heads were tweaked right off their bodies through the cage. We are guessing it was a combination of dogs and turkey buzzards although I still say dogs, plain and simple. It came to pass that we had one hen, three roosters and a duck, with one deformed wing, (from the scramble at the fair) remaining out of the 25. You can imagine the horror the hen suffered at the mercy of three very competitive roosters.
These animals just roamed our yard. We would come home and they would be in the garage on the top step that goes into the house. And "they" would be the hen, three roosters, the duck, a bloodhound and a lab. Seriously, it was party central. Or we'd come home and they would be on top of the deep freeze, I suppose because of it's warmth on the outside. In fact, the hen started laying her eggs on top of the deep freeze in the garage!!! There was one instance when there was chicken poo on the trunk of my little gray car in the garage. It was outrageous.
One afternoon in particular I remember going out to feed them and on my way back to the house, it was just like a scene from a thriller movie. I would take a few steps and hear something, so I would stop, the noise stopped. I would start again, hear the noise and stop. The noise would stop again. I would turn around and that stupid mean rooster (one was far meaner than the others) was following me, ready to attack. It got so bad that I would only go out there with a broom to defend myself.
Finally, we had had enough. The kids hated the taste of the eggs (I realize they're supposed to taste better), and I hate eggs in general unless they're mixed in a cake, brownie or cookie batter so there was really not point to these creatures except their poop was everywhere and the one rooster was mean. We gave them away, a couple of them to Madolyn's friend and a couple to my brother. I think my brother even decided the mean rooster had to go. He was so vicious.
That is the story of the stupid chickens. I try to never say never, but I sure hope that we never, ever, ever have chickens again, period.
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
The future: Our Youth
Jesus said, “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.” (Matthew 19:14 NIV)
Isn't it funny how goals change as you get older? I can remember that I used to think that if I had this or that, then I would be happy. If I accomplish this one thing, then I'd be successful. The goal I have been focusing on for the past few years is this: If I can change just one person's life, then my life was successful and I accomplished His purpose for me.
Tomorrow night we will have a cookout/potluck to just kick off the new year for youth at our church. Our youth program has been growing and we are overjoyed and amazed constantly that the kids keep coming back. We even purchased an older church van earlier this year to help with the transportation. Our church is way out in the middle of nowhere, near Moonshine, which is a tad further out in the middle of nowhere. We have three or four school districts that feed into our church or youth. I love it. It is something I look forward to now, which amazes me.
About five years ago when my friend I'll call Beth and two others in our church decided it was time to start up a youth group again, I was hesitant. We had tried one a few years earlier for the younger kids and it just didn't work. My attitude about it was TERRIBLE. It didn't work out. I had had one at my house about ten years ago for a couple years and it was pretty good...until those kids graduated. So I started praying about whether I should become involved with this new youth group. I prayed for guidance, acceptance and a change of attitude. I knew that God may tell me to do this and I better have an attitude adjustment or I will be miserable. Of course, he answered.
We forged ahead. The plan was to have church members sign up to provide a meal before our youth meeting because we knew so many kids came straight from some sort of practice. It worked. I think we did this high school youth group two years when the church decided to expand the program and include all ages. It has been a success. We still serve a meal each Wednesday evening and have a whole committee devoted to that. A list is put up monthly and people sign up to bring certain items and the kitchen committee throws it all together. After supper, we divide up into our age groups.
It never ceases to amaze me what these kids come up with each week, the lessons they teach me, the shocking stuff they tell us, the very different lives they lead. Several of them don't come on Sundays, their families do not participate in church activities anywhere and some have never ever been to church before. Again, it just floors me. Some of these kids have never been to a church service! How can that be?
We know that some of these youth make terrible choices, even after we've covered that very topic; we know they continue to struggle with bad habits, destructive relationships, terrible attitudes, etc. We are well aware of the fact that sometimes they go out and screw up terribly. I think our common goal, or at least mine is, to continue to love them unconditionally, to accept them without question, and to continue to pound into their heads what the Word says, how to make better decisions, how to break free from their chains, etc. We know these kids aren't coming to us and leaving perfect human beings, but we love them anyway.
I don't know of a single church body that could claim that kind of turnaround either...we are all sinners. Our churches would be empty if it weren't for us sinners. I think sometimes adults put way too much pressure on our young adults to lead perfect lives and to go out and put on a good image for the church. Sometimes I want to just scream at a youth when I find out something they did, something we've talked about over and over, but I know that I do the very same things even as an adult. I pray for forgiveness about something and then find myself right back there doing it over again. The facts may be different, but I am no different. Thankfully, God loves us anyway.
The youth are our future. If we, as Christians, want Christianity to prosper, we have to move. We cannot sit back and hope that someone else will take action. Maybe teaching a high school youth group is not your thing, maybe you would be better suited in the younger groups, or maybe you feel like driving the church bus or van is all you can offer, so be it. There are many, many ways we can be involved and active in our futures. I get so tired of hearing others complain about how Christians are becoming the minority, I want to stand up and say, "Well, then what are YOU doing about it?" Get out there and move. If you're not comfortable with children, there are adults that need Jesus too!!
And like I said at the beginning, my goals are different now. I just want to change one person's life for the better. I want them to have Jesus in their heart and know they will experience Heaven. It's not a notch in my belt, I'm not keeping a tally or anything, but it's what we're all supposed to be doing anyway, right? The bummer is I may never even know...and maybe that's how it's supposed to be so we don't stop working on people.
But, you know, if I happen to change your life, preferably for the better, can you let me know...so then I could ease up on myself little:)
Isn't it funny how goals change as you get older? I can remember that I used to think that if I had this or that, then I would be happy. If I accomplish this one thing, then I'd be successful. The goal I have been focusing on for the past few years is this: If I can change just one person's life, then my life was successful and I accomplished His purpose for me.
Tomorrow night we will have a cookout/potluck to just kick off the new year for youth at our church. Our youth program has been growing and we are overjoyed and amazed constantly that the kids keep coming back. We even purchased an older church van earlier this year to help with the transportation. Our church is way out in the middle of nowhere, near Moonshine, which is a tad further out in the middle of nowhere. We have three or four school districts that feed into our church or youth. I love it. It is something I look forward to now, which amazes me.
About five years ago when my friend I'll call Beth and two others in our church decided it was time to start up a youth group again, I was hesitant. We had tried one a few years earlier for the younger kids and it just didn't work. My attitude about it was TERRIBLE. It didn't work out. I had had one at my house about ten years ago for a couple years and it was pretty good...until those kids graduated. So I started praying about whether I should become involved with this new youth group. I prayed for guidance, acceptance and a change of attitude. I knew that God may tell me to do this and I better have an attitude adjustment or I will be miserable. Of course, he answered.
We forged ahead. The plan was to have church members sign up to provide a meal before our youth meeting because we knew so many kids came straight from some sort of practice. It worked. I think we did this high school youth group two years when the church decided to expand the program and include all ages. It has been a success. We still serve a meal each Wednesday evening and have a whole committee devoted to that. A list is put up monthly and people sign up to bring certain items and the kitchen committee throws it all together. After supper, we divide up into our age groups.
It never ceases to amaze me what these kids come up with each week, the lessons they teach me, the shocking stuff they tell us, the very different lives they lead. Several of them don't come on Sundays, their families do not participate in church activities anywhere and some have never ever been to church before. Again, it just floors me. Some of these kids have never been to a church service! How can that be?
We know that some of these youth make terrible choices, even after we've covered that very topic; we know they continue to struggle with bad habits, destructive relationships, terrible attitudes, etc. We are well aware of the fact that sometimes they go out and screw up terribly. I think our common goal, or at least mine is, to continue to love them unconditionally, to accept them without question, and to continue to pound into their heads what the Word says, how to make better decisions, how to break free from their chains, etc. We know these kids aren't coming to us and leaving perfect human beings, but we love them anyway.
I don't know of a single church body that could claim that kind of turnaround either...we are all sinners. Our churches would be empty if it weren't for us sinners. I think sometimes adults put way too much pressure on our young adults to lead perfect lives and to go out and put on a good image for the church. Sometimes I want to just scream at a youth when I find out something they did, something we've talked about over and over, but I know that I do the very same things even as an adult. I pray for forgiveness about something and then find myself right back there doing it over again. The facts may be different, but I am no different. Thankfully, God loves us anyway.
The youth are our future. If we, as Christians, want Christianity to prosper, we have to move. We cannot sit back and hope that someone else will take action. Maybe teaching a high school youth group is not your thing, maybe you would be better suited in the younger groups, or maybe you feel like driving the church bus or van is all you can offer, so be it. There are many, many ways we can be involved and active in our futures. I get so tired of hearing others complain about how Christians are becoming the minority, I want to stand up and say, "Well, then what are YOU doing about it?" Get out there and move. If you're not comfortable with children, there are adults that need Jesus too!!
And like I said at the beginning, my goals are different now. I just want to change one person's life for the better. I want them to have Jesus in their heart and know they will experience Heaven. It's not a notch in my belt, I'm not keeping a tally or anything, but it's what we're all supposed to be doing anyway, right? The bummer is I may never even know...and maybe that's how it's supposed to be so we don't stop working on people.
But, you know, if I happen to change your life, preferably for the better, can you let me know...so then I could ease up on myself little:)
Sunday, September 4, 2011
Little Black Sambo
I kinda skipped over our Little Black Sambo story. Remember the book? I'm not sure if it's even out on the shelves these days. It's probably not politically correct...but Grandma Great still owns my dad's childhood copy, which she read to us grandkids and now to my kids. My kids know it nearly by heart.
A couple years ago in May, we were at Jay's parents house and the neighbor guy, we called him crazy Mark, handed my kids two kittens, literally. He gave them each a kitten and told them to take them home. Who does that to a mother? Crazy Mark, that's who... So off we went with a solid black kitten and a yellow/white tiger-stripped kitten. Fortunately, we pawned the yellow kitten off on our friends. We kept the black kitten and my kids named him Little Black Sambo.
Sambo was so tiny and estimated to be only about five weeks old. We thought this annoying suckling sound and his pawing would subside, but they never did, ever. It was very strange. You would be sitting there and he would start sucking on your pant leg. Weird, very weird. My mom kept him one time while we were away for a week...she said never again, that cat is weird. I know, he fit right in with our zoo.
Meepie, our older cat, hated Little Black Sambo with all his might, and of course, Little Black Sambo was intrigued by the mighty Meepie. He followed him everywhere and tried to play with him. Meepie wanted none of it. They co-existed but it was not peaceful.
We started noticing that stuffed animals would be in the living room randomly but we didn't know how or why. The kids denied it, but that wasn't anything unusual...they deny everything. One night when Jay was working and I was up watching TV in the living room, out of the corner of my eye I saw this stuffed animal move across the carpet...it was crazy. Behind this huge stuffed bear was Little Black Sambo, you couldn't even see him he was so small. Hilarious. He was the one carrying those stuffed animals around every night. Too cute. Sambo would sometimes talk to you, which was adorable, and he could catch flies. He was a great cat. He was absolutely humongous by the time he hit the two year mark in April of 2010.
In late October of last year, I thought I heard the strangest sound during the night, Jay did too. Turns out it was Sambo. He was sick and in pain. He had developed a urinary tract infection, which apparently is common in large male cats. He spent a week at the vet on a catheter and they sent him home. He was home about 36 hours when I took him back and told them he was not well and that they needed to put him to sleep. I felt horrible about dropping him off, but it would not get better. It was so sad. I could not have a cat that couldn't hold his urine and/or was in severe pain.
Crazy thing, Meepie came out of his depression. He was a new man. We didn't realize how much he hated Little Black Sambo...but we sure do miss him anyway:)
A couple years ago in May, we were at Jay's parents house and the neighbor guy, we called him crazy Mark, handed my kids two kittens, literally. He gave them each a kitten and told them to take them home. Who does that to a mother? Crazy Mark, that's who... So off we went with a solid black kitten and a yellow/white tiger-stripped kitten. Fortunately, we pawned the yellow kitten off on our friends. We kept the black kitten and my kids named him Little Black Sambo.
Sambo was so tiny and estimated to be only about five weeks old. We thought this annoying suckling sound and his pawing would subside, but they never did, ever. It was very strange. You would be sitting there and he would start sucking on your pant leg. Weird, very weird. My mom kept him one time while we were away for a week...she said never again, that cat is weird. I know, he fit right in with our zoo.
Meepie, our older cat, hated Little Black Sambo with all his might, and of course, Little Black Sambo was intrigued by the mighty Meepie. He followed him everywhere and tried to play with him. Meepie wanted none of it. They co-existed but it was not peaceful.
We started noticing that stuffed animals would be in the living room randomly but we didn't know how or why. The kids denied it, but that wasn't anything unusual...they deny everything. One night when Jay was working and I was up watching TV in the living room, out of the corner of my eye I saw this stuffed animal move across the carpet...it was crazy. Behind this huge stuffed bear was Little Black Sambo, you couldn't even see him he was so small. Hilarious. He was the one carrying those stuffed animals around every night. Too cute. Sambo would sometimes talk to you, which was adorable, and he could catch flies. He was a great cat. He was absolutely humongous by the time he hit the two year mark in April of 2010.
In late October of last year, I thought I heard the strangest sound during the night, Jay did too. Turns out it was Sambo. He was sick and in pain. He had developed a urinary tract infection, which apparently is common in large male cats. He spent a week at the vet on a catheter and they sent him home. He was home about 36 hours when I took him back and told them he was not well and that they needed to put him to sleep. I felt horrible about dropping him off, but it would not get better. It was so sad. I could not have a cat that couldn't hold his urine and/or was in severe pain.
Crazy thing, Meepie came out of his depression. He was a new man. We didn't realize how much he hated Little Black Sambo...but we sure do miss him anyway:)
Saturday, September 3, 2011
I can remember...
I can remember that in Fifth Grade, our teacher, Mr. Liggett, brought a TV in and we watched the broadcast of the space shuttle, Challenger, as it lifted off. We saw it all...the explosion. I can remember sitting there in disbelief. Now I wonder what Mr. Liggett felt, that certainly wasn't what Mr. Liggett had planned for us that day. I can't really remember much more about it than that and I'm not sure if I really soaked it all in. But I do remember that event.
I can still remember where I was when one of my best friends told me her parents were getting a divorce. I think we were in Junior High School. We were standing on Main Street walking back to the high school. I can picture the very spot on the sidewalk. Up until that point, none of my friends' parents had divorced. It was unheard of. Even going on through high school, I can't recall anyone else's parents getting divorced. That is not to say it didn't happen, it just wasn't happening to anyone real close to me...But I remember everything about her telling me.
I can remember the day my grandpa K. died. My grandpa had been in the hospital and was very bad. Arrangements had been made for him to come home with a hospital bed and probably Hospice (although I don't recall that, they probably didn't tell me). I stopped in at my Grandma's house and the phone rang. She was getting ready to go over to the hospital and was in the bathroom putting on her bright red lipstick. I answered the phone. They told me Grandpa had died. I remember how I did not handle the situation very well. I walked into the doorway of the bathroom and told my Grandma he had died and turned around and walked away. How awful I was. I didn't know how to handle it. I regret terribly that moment.
I can remember where I was when my mother called me on Sept 11, 2001. I had just dropped my 1 yr old daughter off with her to babysit for the day while I went to work. I had a 45 minute drive. I was halfway there. I was surprised to see her calling already. She told me something crazy was happening and she was watching it on TV, had I heard it on the radio? No. It was hard for me to follow what she was telling me. I didn't get it...until I got to work and turned on my computer.
I can remember when the call came that my cousin, Lee Ann, had been killed in a car accident the night before. Hit head-on by a drunk driver in the rain. She died instantly. She was married and left behind two small sons. I was standing in my daughter's bedroom. No one was home. I sat down on her bed and cried, then called my cousin I call Danielle. It was devastating. I wasn't super close to Lee Ann, but I had great memories with her at the fair each summer. She left behind a husband and two boys that adored her. My heart broke for them.
I can remember just a few years ago being away at a murder trial for a couple days and being handed a note during court. It told me to call my dad. Then I got another note to call home. I knew it was serious. My friend's dad had died suddenly of a massive heart attack. He was barely 51 (I think). It was devastating. I remember sitting in our bailiff's car in the Pizza Hut parking lot during lunch crying on the phone with my friend. I remember how we were both just sobbing hysterically. I remember making the decision to stay and work the trial one more day instead of going home to be with her. Almost immediately, I regretted that decision.
Isn't it funny how our minds will go back to a particular event and recall the exact circumstances of that moment. I could go on and on describing moments like these. I'm sure you can too. It's amazing how our mind stores those images and feelings forever. I suppose they are moments we're not supposed to forget. For me, some of them come with life lessons. I know that in the future given the same situation of being told someone has died and telling their most beloved the heartbreaking news, I will not just walk away. I know that in the future I will drop what I'm doing if I can and go be at my friend's side during a heartbreaking ordeal. We live and learn...
I can still remember where I was when one of my best friends told me her parents were getting a divorce. I think we were in Junior High School. We were standing on Main Street walking back to the high school. I can picture the very spot on the sidewalk. Up until that point, none of my friends' parents had divorced. It was unheard of. Even going on through high school, I can't recall anyone else's parents getting divorced. That is not to say it didn't happen, it just wasn't happening to anyone real close to me...But I remember everything about her telling me.
I can remember the day my grandpa K. died. My grandpa had been in the hospital and was very bad. Arrangements had been made for him to come home with a hospital bed and probably Hospice (although I don't recall that, they probably didn't tell me). I stopped in at my Grandma's house and the phone rang. She was getting ready to go over to the hospital and was in the bathroom putting on her bright red lipstick. I answered the phone. They told me Grandpa had died. I remember how I did not handle the situation very well. I walked into the doorway of the bathroom and told my Grandma he had died and turned around and walked away. How awful I was. I didn't know how to handle it. I regret terribly that moment.
I can remember where I was when my mother called me on Sept 11, 2001. I had just dropped my 1 yr old daughter off with her to babysit for the day while I went to work. I had a 45 minute drive. I was halfway there. I was surprised to see her calling already. She told me something crazy was happening and she was watching it on TV, had I heard it on the radio? No. It was hard for me to follow what she was telling me. I didn't get it...until I got to work and turned on my computer.
I can remember when the call came that my cousin, Lee Ann, had been killed in a car accident the night before. Hit head-on by a drunk driver in the rain. She died instantly. She was married and left behind two small sons. I was standing in my daughter's bedroom. No one was home. I sat down on her bed and cried, then called my cousin I call Danielle. It was devastating. I wasn't super close to Lee Ann, but I had great memories with her at the fair each summer. She left behind a husband and two boys that adored her. My heart broke for them.
I can remember just a few years ago being away at a murder trial for a couple days and being handed a note during court. It told me to call my dad. Then I got another note to call home. I knew it was serious. My friend's dad had died suddenly of a massive heart attack. He was barely 51 (I think). It was devastating. I remember sitting in our bailiff's car in the Pizza Hut parking lot during lunch crying on the phone with my friend. I remember how we were both just sobbing hysterically. I remember making the decision to stay and work the trial one more day instead of going home to be with her. Almost immediately, I regretted that decision.
Isn't it funny how our minds will go back to a particular event and recall the exact circumstances of that moment. I could go on and on describing moments like these. I'm sure you can too. It's amazing how our mind stores those images and feelings forever. I suppose they are moments we're not supposed to forget. For me, some of them come with life lessons. I know that in the future given the same situation of being told someone has died and telling their most beloved the heartbreaking news, I will not just walk away. I know that in the future I will drop what I'm doing if I can and go be at my friend's side during a heartbreaking ordeal. We live and learn...
Thursday, September 1, 2011
Skate or Die Dudes
When I was 15 years old, three of my girlfriends and I went out cruising. It was summertime. I had just gotten back from cheerleading camp. I can tell you exactly what I was wearing, my denim jacket and a new cheerleading t-shirt. We were in my friend's bright red Chevy Beretta and we went to the neighboring town and cruised all night long. As we drove up and down the streets, we kept teasing and taunting these "skate or die dudes" as we called them. Week after week, they were uptown on their skateboards. They were your typical skateboard dudes. We were being mean probably, not terribly mean, just silly and stupid and probably a little mean. Finally, the night was coming to an end, we went and picked up a pizza for my parents and started out of town towards Martinsville. And so did the skate or die dudes.
Apparently, they had had enough of our teasing and taunting, I suppose. I don't know, maybe they wanted to follow us and tell us how cute we were...could be...but anyway, they followed us. I don't think we thought much of it at first. Martinsville was just a few miles away and they would probably just scare us a little and turn around. But when we turned out of Martinsville to head to my house, they followed.
My friend who owned this pretty Chevy Beretta was not the best driver. She had had a couple accidents already. This was her second Beretta and she treasured it. Right after we turned, we started to panic about them following us. The roads had recently been chipped and sealed so there was a lot of extra pea gravel along the side of this road. We got carried away and got off in it and started fish-tailing. The passenger friend, in her hysteria, grabbed whatever she could and pulled the emergency brake. We were not going that fast, we had just turned a corner, but when you are going at a steady clip, fishtailing in a small car and someone pulls the emergency brake, nothing good comes from it. We rolled the car a few times and to top it all off, we spun around on the hood in circles before coming to a stop. And then there was complete silence. Weird. I can still hear that eery silence.
But it didn't last long. We scrambled to get out of the car. My backseat companion, the one I call Susan, was bleeding profusely from the face area. It was freaky. There was so much blood on her face. She had smacked her nose into the headrest of the front seat. And that's when the silence stopped. My driver friend started screaming, we all were screaming. We saw the skate or die dudes drive on to the next house. My friend wouldn't stop screaming about her car and how we couldn't just leave it there in the middle of the road. (It wasn't going anywhere, it was upside down.) I remember being so mad at her because she wouldn't shut up about her car.
Here's a funny from that moment. We were trying to devise a plan, what to tell people about what happened. I don't know why really. We didn't drink, do drugs, smoke, we hadn't been drag racing or anything. I laugh now because we thought it was so important to have a story. Someone mentioned that we could say we swerved to hit a racoon and got out of control. I suggested a deer because this was heavily populated deer country. Later in the emergency room, I remember the police questioning one of the others and I heard her say something about seeing eyes, "though it may have been lightening bugs." I about came off the table!!! Susan's boyfriend had asked me if the stuff all over my legs was from the deer. Nope, it was from the pizza...ha.
After the ambulance came, our parents came. Oh and get this, whose parents were the last to arrive although they were probably the closest? Yep, mine. And why did it take them so long? Because my dad couldn't find a clean pair of his good jeans...Typical. None of us were injured seriously. When we went back and looked at the car at the junkyard, it was incredible. The passenger seat had come unfastened, which is why my friend "Susan" had the bloody nose. The hood was smashed almost even with the door of the car. I still cannot believe we climbed out of there basically uninjured. No one was wearing a seatbelt. It was a miracle that we survived and not injured badly. I got one stitch in my foot from climbing out of the car. Jay still teases me about that one stitch. It was my badge of honor and he thinks it's funny.
I remember that none of us had a voice for a couple days. They tell us it was from screaming. A lady living on the other road said she heard screaming that night. Ugh, it gives me chills. There were all sorts of stories floating around about what happened, that one of my cousin's, the one I call Danielle, was killed when the car landed on her...she wasn't even with us. I don't recall every talking to or taunting those skate or die dudes again. Apparently when they drove on past us, they went to the next house to call the ambulance. I'm guessing they were pretty freaked out...I know we were. Maybe we all learned a little lesson that night...
Apparently, they had had enough of our teasing and taunting, I suppose. I don't know, maybe they wanted to follow us and tell us how cute we were...could be...but anyway, they followed us. I don't think we thought much of it at first. Martinsville was just a few miles away and they would probably just scare us a little and turn around. But when we turned out of Martinsville to head to my house, they followed.
My friend who owned this pretty Chevy Beretta was not the best driver. She had had a couple accidents already. This was her second Beretta and she treasured it. Right after we turned, we started to panic about them following us. The roads had recently been chipped and sealed so there was a lot of extra pea gravel along the side of this road. We got carried away and got off in it and started fish-tailing. The passenger friend, in her hysteria, grabbed whatever she could and pulled the emergency brake. We were not going that fast, we had just turned a corner, but when you are going at a steady clip, fishtailing in a small car and someone pulls the emergency brake, nothing good comes from it. We rolled the car a few times and to top it all off, we spun around on the hood in circles before coming to a stop. And then there was complete silence. Weird. I can still hear that eery silence.
But it didn't last long. We scrambled to get out of the car. My backseat companion, the one I call Susan, was bleeding profusely from the face area. It was freaky. There was so much blood on her face. She had smacked her nose into the headrest of the front seat. And that's when the silence stopped. My driver friend started screaming, we all were screaming. We saw the skate or die dudes drive on to the next house. My friend wouldn't stop screaming about her car and how we couldn't just leave it there in the middle of the road. (It wasn't going anywhere, it was upside down.) I remember being so mad at her because she wouldn't shut up about her car.
Here's a funny from that moment. We were trying to devise a plan, what to tell people about what happened. I don't know why really. We didn't drink, do drugs, smoke, we hadn't been drag racing or anything. I laugh now because we thought it was so important to have a story. Someone mentioned that we could say we swerved to hit a racoon and got out of control. I suggested a deer because this was heavily populated deer country. Later in the emergency room, I remember the police questioning one of the others and I heard her say something about seeing eyes, "though it may have been lightening bugs." I about came off the table!!! Susan's boyfriend had asked me if the stuff all over my legs was from the deer. Nope, it was from the pizza...ha.
After the ambulance came, our parents came. Oh and get this, whose parents were the last to arrive although they were probably the closest? Yep, mine. And why did it take them so long? Because my dad couldn't find a clean pair of his good jeans...Typical. None of us were injured seriously. When we went back and looked at the car at the junkyard, it was incredible. The passenger seat had come unfastened, which is why my friend "Susan" had the bloody nose. The hood was smashed almost even with the door of the car. I still cannot believe we climbed out of there basically uninjured. No one was wearing a seatbelt. It was a miracle that we survived and not injured badly. I got one stitch in my foot from climbing out of the car. Jay still teases me about that one stitch. It was my badge of honor and he thinks it's funny.
I remember that none of us had a voice for a couple days. They tell us it was from screaming. A lady living on the other road said she heard screaming that night. Ugh, it gives me chills. There were all sorts of stories floating around about what happened, that one of my cousin's, the one I call Danielle, was killed when the car landed on her...she wasn't even with us. I don't recall every talking to or taunting those skate or die dudes again. Apparently when they drove on past us, they went to the next house to call the ambulance. I'm guessing they were pretty freaked out...I know we were. Maybe we all learned a little lesson that night...
The Mattress
Do not merely listen to the word, and so deceive yourselves. Do what it says. Anyone who listens to the word but does not do what it says is like someone who looks at his face in a mirror and, after looking at himself, goes away and immediately forgets what he looks like. (James 1:22-24 NLT)
About two weeks ago while driving home, the kids and I noticed that someone had lost a mattress and it was lying in a corn field along the road. I don't know if it was intentional or unintentional, but I really figured someone would come along soon and pick it up. Because unless you intentionally meant for it to fly out of your truck or trailer and land there in the field, I would think you would miss a mattress.
At least a week went by when day after day, we passed and there was the mattress, leaning up against some strong, tall cornstalks. What an eyesore. What is going to happen to it? So the other day, Jay, the kids and I are coming home down that same road where the mattress had been in the field. We get past that spot and someone commented that the mattress was gone. Madolyn pipes up and says, "Yeah, it's not there, but someone threw it in the creek down the road." And sure enough as we went down the road a little ways, there was the mattress...although not as visible from the road, you could still see it. Ugh.
I can't remember verbatim how the conversation goes (which I know is amazing to some people, ha) but we were talking about why someone would do that, just move it from one place to another, and why wouldn't someone just pick it up and haul it to an appropriate place. You know how kids are, one question after another, and Madolyn is asking where a person would take it if they did pick it up. We're giving her the options of a dumpster or even burning it in a trash pile, etc. We keep talking about this "someone" and what they should do...and then she says it, "Well, why don't you guys pick it up then?"
Jay and I just turned to each other in the car. She was right. Why didn't we just get the truck and go get the mattress and burn it or take it to a dumpster somewhere? Obviously the person who owned the mattress wasn't coming back to get it. Mercy, you can always count on kids to call you out on this stuff, can't you? We preach and preach and tell them to do right, make good choices, be the better person, turn the cheek, do what you can to help someone else, don't litter, pick up trash when you see it...ah-ha. I mean, what do you say to that? It's one of many instances where my kids catch me up. Like telling them not to break the laws, and then Lane points out that I'm speeding. You know it's the I-can-bend-the-rules-but-you-can't way of parenting.
This instance reminds me of the verse mentioned above. We can't just read our bibles and devotionals and then not apply it in our lives. It is not how it's supposed to work. In all aspects of life, not just parenting, I can't say one thing and do another. It is the very thing that non-believers are watching for. We know one of the most popular excuses to not go to church is that a church is full of hypocrites. And most of the time, that is true...but that is also the very place where we, the hypocrites, should be, trying to do better, asking for forgiveness, learning how to change.
There are many reasons I'm thankful for my children. They remind me on a daily basis of the simple things. Their prayers are so perfect and precise, down to the point. They call me out when I want to take the easy road and let something pass. (And they drive me nuts.) But many days, their words are just what I need to stop and practice what I preach. So I'm guessin' that maybe this weekend Jay & I should go pick up that stupid mattress...
About two weeks ago while driving home, the kids and I noticed that someone had lost a mattress and it was lying in a corn field along the road. I don't know if it was intentional or unintentional, but I really figured someone would come along soon and pick it up. Because unless you intentionally meant for it to fly out of your truck or trailer and land there in the field, I would think you would miss a mattress.
At least a week went by when day after day, we passed and there was the mattress, leaning up against some strong, tall cornstalks. What an eyesore. What is going to happen to it? So the other day, Jay, the kids and I are coming home down that same road where the mattress had been in the field. We get past that spot and someone commented that the mattress was gone. Madolyn pipes up and says, "Yeah, it's not there, but someone threw it in the creek down the road." And sure enough as we went down the road a little ways, there was the mattress...although not as visible from the road, you could still see it. Ugh.
I can't remember verbatim how the conversation goes (which I know is amazing to some people, ha) but we were talking about why someone would do that, just move it from one place to another, and why wouldn't someone just pick it up and haul it to an appropriate place. You know how kids are, one question after another, and Madolyn is asking where a person would take it if they did pick it up. We're giving her the options of a dumpster or even burning it in a trash pile, etc. We keep talking about this "someone" and what they should do...and then she says it, "Well, why don't you guys pick it up then?"
Jay and I just turned to each other in the car. She was right. Why didn't we just get the truck and go get the mattress and burn it or take it to a dumpster somewhere? Obviously the person who owned the mattress wasn't coming back to get it. Mercy, you can always count on kids to call you out on this stuff, can't you? We preach and preach and tell them to do right, make good choices, be the better person, turn the cheek, do what you can to help someone else, don't litter, pick up trash when you see it...ah-ha. I mean, what do you say to that? It's one of many instances where my kids catch me up. Like telling them not to break the laws, and then Lane points out that I'm speeding. You know it's the I-can-bend-the-rules-but-you-can't way of parenting.
This instance reminds me of the verse mentioned above. We can't just read our bibles and devotionals and then not apply it in our lives. It is not how it's supposed to work. In all aspects of life, not just parenting, I can't say one thing and do another. It is the very thing that non-believers are watching for. We know one of the most popular excuses to not go to church is that a church is full of hypocrites. And most of the time, that is true...but that is also the very place where we, the hypocrites, should be, trying to do better, asking for forgiveness, learning how to change.
There are many reasons I'm thankful for my children. They remind me on a daily basis of the simple things. Their prayers are so perfect and precise, down to the point. They call me out when I want to take the easy road and let something pass. (And they drive me nuts.) But many days, their words are just what I need to stop and practice what I preach. So I'm guessin' that maybe this weekend Jay & I should go pick up that stupid mattress...
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