Wednesday, October 26, 2016

desperate times call for desperate measures.... says me every dang day.

Happy Anniversary, Fireman Dave, now can you go pick up three picnic tables I just found outside at a restaurant and take them to the school?  Then take me to lunch to celebrate our love?

And he said yes to both.  Which, in short, explains how we've been married 17 years.  17 years plus countless ones before that when we weren't actually married, but were in our hearts.  Plus the ones as kids when we knew each other and laughed at all the crazy things teenagers laugh at without a clue that one day all those things would become the building blocks of a lifetime of love...


But I don't  have an anniversary picture.  And remember I don't even have a wedding picture.  Only the pictures in my mind.  And I wore something not so wedding like that may or may not have involved a sweater and loafers.  

But I do have this picture from about a year ago at Cowboys Stadium - the night I got separated from everyone in the world that I know in a crowd of 10 million people and had no cell phone service.  So I asked a little boy if I could use his phone to call someone to rescue me and I think he reported me to the stadium police as stranger danger.  Anyway, Kid 2 finally found me because he was smart enough to look where the upscale ladies restroom is located and knew deep in his heart that I would be close by.  

Y'all, I try to write on the blog about once a week, if I'm lucky.  Sometimes I write even more - IF - I actually have something to say.  Thank you to the sweet friends who asked where I've been the last few days, and for checking into my online home to see if you might find me doing something fun.  Or not.  Or maybe just something weird and life-like that makes you think you're not the only one that's living in a crazy world.  Here's where I planned to share a picture of me and Boris the Hog at the State Fair of Texas - but Boris didn't look too good in the photo so I deleted it. 

I've actually been in a struggle of motherhood known as Kid 1.  I sit here at the desk writing, and on the desk is an old picture of him helping his daddy fix the garbage disposal in our first little house.  And I think to myself, Oh how cute and sweet that little angel was.  Then I think, Where the H-E-Double Hockey Sticks is that sweet baby now?  Then I quietly, in my mind, wish that I could give him a half lobotomy surgery because I hear things like that return the patient to a more child- like state.

Y'all, desperate times call for desperate measures.... says me every dang day.  

Anyway, it's been a busy week as the mom of teen boys.  And in short, I can tell you there have been intimidation tactics, fit throwing, a pair of missing pants and a trash bag involved.  Remember that verse somewhere in the Bible that says that there will be gnashing of teeth and some other bad stuff?  Well, the Bible does not lie.  It happened in my house this past Monday morning and nothing good came of it.  Except for when we made the guilty party express his regrets through the scrubbing of bathrooms and vacuuming of floors.

Then that very same day I sat out at Kid 3's middle school football game and I watched the opposing team in their surprisingly new, matching jerseys and color coordinated helmets.  And they arrived with double the number of players, a few thousand cheerleaders - and a band.  And a half time performance of Michael Jackson's Thriller dance.  

And our boys were just our boys.  Wearing the uniforms that have been passed down from year to year, some better fitted than others, and mismatched helmets  - probably collected from whatever sources would agree to donate so there's enough for all the boys to play.  They also each have their names masking taped to the back of the helmet to make sure each kid gets the one that belongs to him for the season. God bless them. 

Our team lost the game.  And from the beginning Kid 3 already had the nerves of a first year middle school athlete going in to face his giant.  His giant not being so much the greatness of play of the other team, but their image and their reputation, the flash of new uniforms and the strength of numbers.  The loudness of the cheerleaders and the Zombie costumed band didn't help. 

And for whatever reason that night as I watched the boys play, and I watched Kid 3 give his coach a big ol' no thank you nod when told to get out on the field - I thought of the verse in the Bible that says, .....  And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us.  

And yes, my Bible scholar friends, those words are taken right from the middle of the verse and possibly out of context.  But the words spoken to me that night were just those few.  Let us run the race set before us.  

I've tried to explain to the boys how I hear God.  I've never heard his voice and am so very curious what that might sound like.  I think a deep, southern drawl with a side of understanding and a whole lot of love.  Can't you just hear that in your head?  I also think he and I will one day exchange a giant love hug and then he'll look around Heaven and say, Hey Y'all - look who's home!

These days I think I mostly hear God when I write,  and when I read something so powerful that makes me feel like it was meant just for me.  Maybe that's how Moses felt when that bush caught on fire right next to him that day - a message just for him.  I think I've also been sent some very strong messages through experience.  Funny how just the other day I had been feeling all sorts of lonely about the boys growing up and suggested to Fireman Dave that we need a new baby to try out some new and better parenting techniques.  How maybe we could get one to turn out right if we just keep trying.... I had just held a friend's new baby that day.  

But then God sent me the wrath of Kid 1 and his missing pants to set me back on course.  And I felt like a loser all day.  And I maybe came to work and told a million people about it, asked their advice and if they could please trade lives with me.  

So that's where I've been.  I've been busy being married for 17 years, I've been busy being three boys' mom - though it be all trial and error - And I've been waiting to hear the encouragement that comes from within when it's time for me to share.  

I try not to be the person in an ill fitting life helmet with my name taped to the back of it, hoping to be as good as my more impressive and better dressed opponents.  But sometimes I am.  Today I feel like texting one or two of my kids and telling them that I don't like the people that they are right now.  But that I always love the people that they are - no matter what's happening right now.  

And I want to be the mom that runs the race set before me, and the mom that runs it in front of these boys and the world, so that one day I can say that I did.  

I needed those words whispered in my ear that day.  Perfect timing once again.   

post script - Kid 3 did go out on that field and played his best.  Good for him and for his opponents to see that there's always a challenge before us.   Here's to running this race together Kid 3. 

And the picnic tables?  The luckiest PTA president find of the century, y'all.  A local restaurant is replacing all their patio furniture as money allows, and had already put 3 great picnic tables out behind their building.  I was driving by, thought the tables were probably out for the trash, but took a chance and called the restaurant.  And now I love the owner and all the staff for donating their used tables to the students at Bryan Adams High School.  Here's a picture of what the kids are sitting on now if they want to eat outside at lunch

I've wanted to replace this for them all year - and now I can at least start. Yay for nice people!!

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