My Somewhat Fiery Furnace

If we are thrown into the blazing furnace, the God we serve is able to deliver us from it, and he will deliver us from Your Majesty’s hand.   Daniel 3:17 (NIV)

It is hard to believe sometimes that I have been a court reporter for 16.5 years.  I guess times flies when you're having fun.  As I have mentioned before I could tell so many stories on some of the stuff I have seen, heard or experienced.  Really, you might think nothing goes on in these parts, and yes, compared to bigger cities, I guess one could say nothing major is going on here in these parts, but you might be surprised.

Over the next few weeks, I'll try and tell some of my most memorable courtroom experiences. Keep in mind, I am not going to get too specific on details...although most, if not all, the stories I mention is public knowledge and/or of record. 

I guess I should start with the very first jury trial I ever reported.  Of all the things I do, a jury trial is one of the most stressful.  Everyone is kind of keyed up and at their best.  We have a room full of citizens waiting to be questioned as possible jurors so you want to look good, act professional and know what you're doing.  My mentor, I'll call her "Traci" even taught me about the importance of jury trial hair and wardrobe.  The jury, once picked, sees me from the back mostly...so I want my hair looking decent from the back...and I want to wear a dress or outfit that looks good from the rear view.  Important stuff...ha.

Here's a little legal terminology lesson for you (and these are strictly my simple definitions):  The "venire" is the term used to describe that group of citizens waiting to be questioned.  The venire panel is chosen by the Secretary of State's office, randomly, for the circuit clerk to call in for jury duty.  People used to think you had to be registered to vote to get picked...that is not so.  If you have a driver's license or a state ID card, your name is also on that list (or at least that is my understanding).  "Voir dire" is the term used to define the process of questioning the venire or potential jurors as to their qualifications to be a juror.  (Hopefully, you learned something today...not sure it's useful, but there you go.)

Okay, back to jury trials.  My very first week of employment, I spent shadowing another reporter in a nearby county, "Traci."  My prior court reporting experience was freelancing which is going here, there and everywhere to report depositions, and is not associated, most of the time, with the courtroom scenario.  I had zero knowledge on how to actually do my job in the courtroom, aside from knowing how to type fast on a steno machine, obviously.   So I spent the week working with my mentor, learning the ropes, and the following Monday morning, I was on my own, in my 'home' county to work as an official court reporter. 

I show up on that Monday morning ready to begin my first real day of working in a courtroom.  Funny, I could not find a parking place.  Hmm, that is strange.  Funny, haha funny, the reason I could not find a parking space is because there was a whole group of citizens, "the venire" there for "voir dire."  Mind you, I didn't know what those words even meant yet!  I nearly fell over.  Here I was, 21 years old, about to be thrown into a fiery furnace...or at least that's how I felt.

I set my stuff up in the courtroom, took several deep breaths, whispered a few prayers and we started.  Again, I had absolutely no clue what I was doing, but one thing I was sure of, if I just kept typing what everyone was saying I would be okay, I could figure out the rest later.  It was a short jury trial.  I somehow muddled through.  We picked a jury, heard testimony and eventually the time came for a jury instruction conference.  What?  Yeah, that's what I was thinking too.  It's a conference with only the judge and the attorneys before closing argument when they discuss what instructions they will read to the jury.  Again, I just go with the flow and type, type, type.

There was one pivotal moment for me that occurred during this jury instruction conference.  When the judge said the term "IPI" and a number, I knew I was in over my head.  I had absolutely NO clue what he was talking about, I wasn't even sure he had actually said "IPI."  I had no business being in a jury trial, something serious and life-changing for another human being.  I was completely lost. 
I remember that evening telling Jay that I had absolutely no business being a court reporter, working in a courtroom or a jury trial.  I wasn't sure what I was going to do, or what we were going to do because we had just moved to this town for my new job, but I was positive that I was way out of my league.

Obviously, I stuck it out and learned what an IPI was (Illinois Pattern Instruction...duh;).  I took the time to ask and learn what in the world it meant, what the jury instruction conference was, and many other things.  From that particular experience, I took away one very important lesson...school only prepares you for so much.  Most of what you learn, you will learn on the job. 

I suppose that throwing me in the fiery furnace right off the bat was the only way to do it.  I still think it was crazy, administratively-speaking, but what do I know?   I managed to get through it, probably with some higher power, if you know what I mean...

The Delivery

A gentle answer turns away wrath, but a harsh word stirs up anger.  Proverbs 15:1 (NIV)

During the past few weeks this has been on my mind a lot and it seems like I've encountered this situation many times. And then over and over in my mind, I kept hearing, "it's all about the delivery."  I'm talking about how things are presented, as in the package. 

As an example, not that this would ever happen, of course...The kids wake up and one of them might possibly say something like, "I want breakfast now."  To which, I could respond, in my Mommie-Dearest voice, "Too bad."   Whereas, if they had said, "Oh, best mom ever, may I have breakfast, please?"  I would have responded in my Leave-it-to-Beaver-June-Cleaver voice, "Yes, my little darling."

It's often said that we lash out at the ones we love and I definitely believe that. Thus, if I'm in a bad mood, my kids and Jay get the brunt of it.  I will walk in the house from work and immediately I hear requests and demands.  I end up snapping at them.  I know they don't realize it, but if they would just give me a minute and let me put my stuff down and change my clothes, their requests might be better received.

My better half would say that I shouldn't have to worry about the delivery of the package.  Just get it out there on the table.  Say what you have to say.  But I tend to believe the delivery is important to get the better or more productive response.  How we handle ourselves and our words in conversing and dealing with others is key to how we will be treated in return.

In the past six months, I have had three people comment on how calm I appear during certain situations.  Funny.  What they probably didn't realize was that at that very moment, internally, I was about to implode, but I have learned through past experiences that getting worked up and hysterical doesn't help much.  For instance, if there are four people experiencing a catastrophe and those four people are hysterical, all you have is major hysteria in the midst of a catastrophe.  It's non-productive.  (And really, folks, I'm not that calm all the time.)

One of my all-time favorite movie quotes is from the movie, Lean on Me, with Morgan Freeman.  During this movie, Freeman is brought in as principal of a very rough, inner-city school.  At one point he tells some of his staff, "If we treat our students like animals, that's exactly how they'll behave."  That movie came out in 1989 and that particular quote has been stuck in my mind ever since.  I get it.

There was a situation recently where a request was made by a committee member (I'm a member of same committee) at a meeting.  I couldn't be present, but as soon as I encountered folks leaving that meeting, I was hearing comments about it.  After talking with a few people, I came to the conclusion that because of the way the request was made, people took offense.  It wasn't intended to offend or attack anyone at all, but the delivery of the message wasn't quite right.

I just read a quote in a blog last week that I loved, and you may have seen it on my Facebook.  It said, "Yelling at a bud won't make it bloom."  That is exactly my point.  And believe me, I can yell...and I do yell when necessary.  Occasionally, I yell when it's not necessary (my kids would say that it's never necessary). 
 
Sometimes you have to wrap the package up real pretty for it to be well-received.  I know it shouldn't have to be like that all the time, but it's amazing how the delivery or presentation of something can make all the difference.  Just be mindful, if you come in with guns a blazing, you better get out your breastplate and expect to be fired upon.

Makin' Memories

is what we like to call it.  The proper translation of "Makin' Memories" would be a less than perfect situation...Such as camping with our camping clan in a severe thunderstorm/tornado watch, getting a truck stuck in the severe thunderstorm/tornado watch after unhitching the camper, watching a waterfall inside your camper during that severe thunderstorm/tornado watch, seeing smoke roll out of the camper battery, having a flat tire pulling a camper on the way to the state fair, a camper a/c malfunction while camping in 105+ degree temperatures...and you probably get my drift.

I have said it for years, when things are not going like you planned them, you are makin' memories.  A couple years ago we took some of our youth to St. Louis for a one-day mission trip.  We went down the night before, spent the night in a hotel, had all kinds of fun swimming and hanging out.  Next morning we loaded up and headed to our work spot...it was cold, windy and rainy.  Wonderful conditions to be working outside.  If you know me at all, I'm a total wimp when it comes to terrible weather, but there was no way I could complain about it in front of those kids...so I kept telling them that we were makin' memories.  If it was beautiful and sunny, it might be totally uneventful, nothing memorable...Now we will never forget it because we were soaked to the bone and cold.

The fun stuff I remember from church camp...a lot of it relates to the water troubles or some sort of mini-disaster we've had.  Such as, me deciding to flush a nasty toilet in the girls bathroom on the FIRST DAY OF CAMP and it overflowing and flooding the entire bathroom, which caused us to not have water for two days.  Now, who is going to forget that?  That's right...no one.  The year the boys' dorm flooded because of a heavy rainfall in the middle of the night and we had to empty out those rooms, mop up lots and lots of water, and do a bunch of laundry.  That was a memory forever etched in my mind.  How about checking the entire camp for head lice?  Never will I forget that...ever.

Since we bought a small camper this spring, we're going camping every chance we can get.  This summer was a bit on the hot side, but we still went a few times in the blazing hot temps.  The kids don't seem to mind the heat, but it's always harder on the adults.  I'm learning more and more as I get older that all those great memories I had as a kid were lots and lots of work for the adults and parents.  I have no doubts that my parents and other adults dreaded certain activities or events because of the exhaustion or frustration that came from them, but I am thankful they pressed forward because I treasure many of those memories. 

Crazy rainfall amounts can lead to muddy, soggy grass and large puddles lakes of water surrounding your camper, which could make for a miserable camping experience when in the company of several restless children...but those large lakes of water surrounding the camper plus several restless children, led by an older child adult, can become a splash party.  A humongous slip-n-slide.  An endless amount of muddy, soggy fun.  No worries...There is a shower house a hundred yards away and a plastic bag for the wet, messy clothes. 

So, yes, I would love to have that perfect camping scenario with beautiful weather, right-on temperatures, well-behaved children, campers that operate perfectly, etc, but making the best of a less than perfect situation creates memories that can last a lifetime.  Sometimes it's all about your attitude, and fortunately for my family and friends, we're all about makin' memories.

America the Beautiful

Blessed is the nation whose God is the LORD, the people he chose for his inheritance.  Psalms 33:12 (NIV)

Today is September 11, 2012.  I am guessing there are very few Americans who don't know what this date signifies.  It has been 11 years since the terrorist attack on our country, yet it doesn't feel like it has been that long.  Yesterday, Madolyn's class started watching a movie at school based on 9/11 and she is engrossed in it.  She could not wait to finish watching it.  It's so odd to think that when that happened, she was only a year old and Lane was not even in existence!   I am glad that she is being exposed to that history...crazy to think that is now history...important, significant history. 

Last night at the volleyball game, as I was standing during the National Anthem, I wondered...do the kids in this gym know the words to this song, our country's theme song?  I meant to ask my kids on the way home and I forgot.  I hope that is something they are taught in music class at the grade school.  I am sure that's where I learned it.  We learned all those patriotic songs. 

I now put my hand on my heart when the National Anthem is played and I sing/whisper the words of the song.  Five years ago, I wouldn't have because I would've thought it was dorky.  If you look around at people, most do not have their hands on their heart.  I suppose it may not mean anything negative, but, for me, it's a significant symbol of the love and respect I have for my country and the many, many soldiers who have fought for our freedom. 

It's funny, when you're a kid, the Pledge of Allegiance is so important, but as an adult, how many times do we recite it?  Very little.  And usually if I have, it's because I was at an event involving children (such as bible school).  Why do we  feel like the Pledge is only important to children?  I believe they still do the Pledge of Allegiance every day during school.  I think at one time they had stopped it or made it optional...maybe I am wrong on that.  Regardless, I hope they do it and can recite the Pledge verbatim without hesitation and with their hand on their heart.  To me, the Pledge of Allegiance is like a prayer for our country.

I am an American Christian citizen and proud of it.  Today, as you think about those that lost loved ones and sacrificed on September 11 and many other times, sing the National Anthem and repeat the Pledge of Allegiance.  Be proud of and in prayer for our country, America the Beautiful.

My health nut

(Some names have been changed to protect the nutty innocent.)   I was reading an article online about the death of actor, Michael Clark Duncan.  It had a link to an article on the top things you could do to cut the risk of heart attacks in younger males.  I read through them and was very pleased that "The Dog" (aka the nutty innocent one) was following all but two of the seventeen items.  Because there are heart issues in his genes, I was thrilled that The Dog was taking care of himself.

At this moment I cannot recall what one of the two was, but it was something food-related.  The second one was the one that struck a cord with me...cleaning the house and doing household chores.  Sweet!   As we were taking a walk the other night, I told him about the article and of course his question was, "What are the two things I don't do already?"   I gladly rattled off the one about cleaning.

The very next morning, The Dog and I were in the kitchen.  (This is his week off.)  I was cutting up apples for my mid-morning apple and peanut butter snack, The Dog was messing at the sink.  I asked what he was doing...he said he was loading the dishes into the dishwasher so he could mark that one off the heart attack risk list.  I had to laugh...I hope he realizes they don't mean just one chore one time.  (It probably needs to be on a regular basis...I mean, yes, it has to be.) 

We drink a lot of tea.  We use the cold-brew Lipton tea bags and we love it.  Two evenings ago, The Dog comes in the kitchen and tells me he is going out to get some sassafras so that he can make me the best tea ever.  Random, but okay.  Next thing I know I see the tractor pass by the window.  What in the world is he doing on a tractor?  (You have to know The Dog...it didn't really surprise me a lot, but he must have gotten sidetracked on another project.)  Lane even comes in and says, "What's dad doing?"  To which I replied, "Getting sassafras for tea."  Hmm, okay.

After 30 minutes or so, The Dog comes in and I ask him what he was doing with the tractor.  He tells me that he was getting sassafras.  "With the tractor?" I ask.  "Yeah, I had to knock it over.  It'll grow back."  Hmm, I didn't realize you had to knock a tree over to get sassafras, but whatever.  He washes the bits and pieces of the sassafras and puts a pan on the stove to boil it.

The tea is boiled and prepared.  He drinks a big glass.  Forces Madolyn to try some.  She thinks it's nasty.  It's bright pink in the pitcher.  I don't touch it.  I'm fine with my plain ole Lipton tea bags.  Last night he comes in the house and says, "I wonder if sassafras has caffeine in it, I couldn't sleep worth a darn last night" (as he is boiling another pot of tea on the stove).  I tell him to google it.  He gets on the computer and a few minutes later starts laughing. 

So I bite..."It has caffeine in it, doesn't it?"  "Nope. No caffeine.  It's a carcinogen.  It's linked to cancer."  So I immediately turn off the tea that is boiling and rolling out aromas, "Great, these fumes are poisoning us, you've forced your daughter to drink the stuff and you've had a whole pitcher.  Good thing you're taking care of your heart"...you nut.

Spring - Take II

Looking around right now, you might think Spring was just around the corner.  I noticed that my volunteer marigolds are sprouting new plants and starting to bloom again as if they hadn't already bloomed and burnt up in the dry heat this summer.

On Labor Day, Jay worked on things outside while I worked inside.  It is amazing how quickly the earth responded to the rain we've been getting, isn't it?  I didn't realize how much I had missed all the green until it was gone for so long.  We now have lush, thick green grass that is growing rapidly with the heat and moisture.  A lot of our plants are budding and the trees are perking up.   The kids mowed our yard twice in a seven-day period, which has not happened for a very long time.

It feels almost as if we're starting Spring instead of Fall.  I can't say that I mind really, it's kind of the best of both worlds actually.  We're finally getting our rain and things look fresh and alive, but it's going to soon cool down a bit and get us prepared for the colder months.

Labor Day weekend Jay was off and our plan for weeks had been to camp, then Isaac decided to grace us with his presence.  I was so bummed, but remembered how much we had prayed for rain and the replenishing of the dry, brittle, cracked earth.  No camping for us, but thankfully we did get some nice steady rainfall without storms and damage....although I know that folks in the south are suffering from the aftermath.

I love Fall and always look forward to Spring.  After such a steamy and dry Summer and maybe since it was 85 degrees in March, we get a do-over.  Lights! Camera! Action!  Here we go...Spring - Take II

Yard work

Wish I had taken a picture of the trees Jay cut down last week, but I didn't.  Last year we had three adult trees in our front yard die.  We had held out hope that maybe this year they would spring back to life...ha.  It didn't happen.  After a storm last week blew several trees down all over the county, Jay decided on his days off, he was going to cut those three dead trees down before they fell down and hurt other trees that were still alive. 

It's such a bummer because we love trees and ever since we built our house, we have planted trees every year.  I think at one time I counted about 60 trees in our yard!  Several of them are evergreens that we hope will grow to be a nice windbreak...of course, we lost three this year due to a combination of things: drought and goats.  Goats love evergreens!

Whitey trimming the bush.

The goats also helped with the yardwork and landscaping this week.  They helped trim the bushes in front of the house and they've also helped themselves to my beautiful Clematis vine.  I'm going to be super-duper upset if that Clematis doesn't come up next year.  My mom got it for me last year and I had actually managed to keep it alive and it was flourishing...even with the drought this year (and I only watered it twice).

Brownie ready to welcome guests.

A few times a week when we're going to be around home, we let Brownie & Whitey out to play.  Hank cannot help himself and thinks that either he is a goat or they are dogs.  He chases them everywhere and tries to join in as they head-butt each other with their horns.  It is hilarious.  (I think Hank wishes he had horns...we are thankful he does not.)  The other night mom and dad were over and asked how we got them back in their pen...it's easy, Lane starts running toward their pen and they just charge after him.  It is hysterical.  They go right in, especially if they've been playing long enough. 

Last night the kids and I got the clippers out and trimmed these bushes so the poor goats wouldn't be stuck with all the hard work.  I gave the clippings to the goats and they ate on them all night...next morning, they were gone!  Maybe it will help keep the goatsies off the porch...I doubt it. 

At one point last week, I had the front inside door open and the curtains to the sliding doors open.  I looked to the front and saw Whitey at the front step with his nose at the door, and when I looked to the deck, there was Hank the Tank with his nose to the door.  Seems as though everyone wants inside.