Angelyn's Christmas at Age 6

What do you want for Christmas this year?

All parents start asking that well before Thanksgiving. Most kids immediately have something in mind. Mine? Not so decisive.


Ummmmm, I don't know, Mom.

Well, you have to have SOMETHING you want!

I can't think of anything.

Okay, let's see....how about a new book?

Okay.

Barbie doll?

Yeah.

Ummm.....do you want some new doll clothes?  Or a movie?

Sure.

My little sweetheart!  I just want to buy her everything under the sun!

So, this year we watched "Yes, Virginia" when it came on the local station.  I was a little nervous about what my child would think about other kids not believing in Santa Claus.  See, my husband and I had different views about whether we would actually promote the Jolly Ol' Guy.  I don't remember ever believing in Santa Claus, so it wasn't ever a big deal to me.  Johnny, on the other hand, vividly remembers (everything) believing in Santa Claus and waking up on Christmas morning to find that one, big, unwrapped gift from HIM.  And long ago he said we absolutely will play that game with our kid(s).

And we do.  Each Christmas Eve, Angelyn puts out milk and cookies, and after she goes to sleep, Santa Claus devours them and leaves her a present.  And sometimes Angelyn leaves Santa a note, and Santa writes one back!

So, how would she react to finding out that not everyone believes in Santa?  Well, apparently, she already knew that some kids think there is no Santa Claus and Tooth Fairy, because they had this conversation at school.  Someone informed Angelyn that they are not real.  And Angelyn adamantly argued that yes, they are real, just like God is real even though you can't see Him, either.  Because her mommy talks to them on the phone, and they send her letters and presents, so that's proof, right?

I do believe that by the end of the conversation she had the other kids doubting their doubts about the truth behind Santa and the Tooth Fairy!

I've always told her she'd make a great lawyer one day.  My boss agrees, although he's not sure she'll be out of law school before he's ready to retire, so he probably won't be leaving his practice to her.

Angelyn's Letter to Santa 2011:

Dear Santa,

May I have a toy? I trid to be good. I'll leave some cookies out for you. I love you! Have a safe trip.

Love,

Angelyn Gayle Coffey

My Letter to Santa 2011:

Dear Santa,

My Baby Girl is the sweetest little girl EVER!

All I want for Christmas is many more years of her hugs and letters and goodness.

Love,

Angelyn's Mommy

Sunny Days: Pros and Cons

My daughter had her first science project to do as homework this year (First Grade).  A weather poster.  She was told to pick one aspect of weather (the usual ones were listed as examples: wind, tornadoes, hurricanes, rain, snow, etc.) and make a poster.  The grade was based on whether the poster had the key ingredients (title, illustrations, captions, etc.) and presentation.  I was thinking that, since we live in Louisiana and my daughter rarely sees it, she would choose SNOW.  Or maybe, because we live in Louisiana and we do occasionally experience them (there happened to be one in the news at the moment, actually), HURRICANES!


Like a really good mom, I gave her tons of time to choose a topic.  Too much time, actually.  Well, she finally decided two days before the poster was due.


Her final choice?


Sunny Days.


That's my girl!  Surprise em all!  That one wasn't listed on the homework sheet.  Way to get creative, Baby Girl!


I don't usually think of "sun" when I think of the weather.  I'm a little more depressing with my thoughts, I guess.


I think:


"Will it be so stinkin cold outside that I have to lug around that ugly jacket?"  I hate cold weather.


or


"Will a hurricane take my house this week?"  HOUSE, meaning TRAILER...wouldn't be too difficult.


or


"Dang it, I gotta carry around an umbrella!  Stupid rain!!"  This means I HAVE to wash my 6-feet-long hair tonight, whether I wanted to or not.


or the most recent one


"Will the wind blow my skirt in that embarassing Marilyn Monroe fashion as I'm walking into the office today?"  Yup, it happened.  And trust me, it's not NEARLY as hot when it happens to me!


So then I had to stop and think. Is "Sunny Days" considered "weather" or part of the climate? Or season? Or just somewhere in between?


But since my husband informed me that the weather channel has little suns on days with "sunny weather", it was okay to use it on a weather poster.  And then I could be proud of my daughter, choosing such a happy, positive thing to focus on!


So my daughter picked up her colored pencils and drew the picture which would be the centerpiece for her display.


"Oh, Angelyn!  You did such a great job!"  I said.  "I love the picture of you jumping rope on top of the trampoline (please, God, please don't let them call CPS because of that blatant safety hazard)!  I love how you put the sunny sky, the green grass, and even the dirt with the worms and things at the very bottom.  But why did you draw so many footballs in the yard?"  Puzzled, because she only has one football, and it's purple, not brown.  She's usually very detail-oriented with her drawings.


"Mooooooom," she rolled her eyes.  "Those are NOT footballs!  They are ant piles!  Don't you see the ants in the dirt, too?"  Oh.  The lines on top of the brown, oblong blobs are really the ants marching to and fro.


She proceeds to inform me that she only likes to jump rope on top of the trampoline because she is safe from the ants up there.


Wow.  So much for happy thoughts.


We then proceeded to pick out sentences for the poster.  I helped her along.


"Sunny days are fun because....."


"I can go outside and play on my trampoline and jump rope on it, too!"  Awesome.  That'll go underneath your picture.  Next.


"Too much sun is bad because....."


"I can get a sunburn?"  Too true.  So we took a smiley face sponge, put red paint on it, and slapped it down on the paper to show a red, smiling Angelyn, which is exactly what she looks like after an afternoon of jumping rope on the trampoline on a sunny day.


Okay, let's do one more.


"Not enough sun is bad because....."


"the plants may die."  Glancing over at the dying plant on the kitchen cabinet which was formerly a Kindergarten lima bean growing science project (sitting underneath a window now protected from all persistent rays of sunlight by blinds AND an awning), I grimaced.  Yup.  Lesson learned.  So we pulled some dead leaves from the plant and glued them underneath that sentence.


"I know another one, Mom!"  I am skeptical at this point.  "Plants and animals need sun to grow!"


Okay, yeah, that's right.  We'll add that.  And we also added a drawing of a fish, a cat, and a flower.  Just to prove the point.


DONE!


And it was beautiful.


And it was the only poster made on "Sunny Days".


And she got an "A" on it.

Patience is NOT one of my Virtues

Preaching to myself today.  For my text, I will use:

Revelation 3:7

And to the angel of the church in Philadelphia write; These things saith he that is holy, he that is true, he that hath the key of David, he that openeth, and no man shutteth; and shutteth, and no man openeth;

Sermon Title:  Shut Up When He Shuts It Up

Faith is not easy.

Sometimes I get myself in a situation where I'm sick to my stomach and ranting and raving and screaming, "What is wrong with these crazy, stupid people?!?!  Why can't they see what I see and just do things the right way?  MY way?!?"

But I'm not the one with the keys.  He is.  And when He opens the door, no man can shut it.  And when He closes the door, no man can open it.  And He's probably saying the same thing about me right now:

"Why can't she see what I see?  Why can't she just do things my way?  If she'd just trust me, her life would be so much easier.  I have it under control."

And yet I'm still banging on the door.  As hard as I can.  Screaming and hollering all the time.  Because I want the keys.  I want control of my life.  I don't like waiting, and hoping that everything will work out right.  I want to know, right now, that everything is done and taken care of.

Argh.  Patience is NOT one of my virtues!

But I will sit still and wait.  Not because it's fun.  But because I know that exactly one month from now none of this will matter.  I will look back on this very minor issue and think, "What is wrong with me?  Why couldn't I just sit still for a little while and wait to see what happened?  And trust God?"

Galatians 5:22.  Love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, goodness, faith.  I really need to go back to Sunday School and learn to exercise these things.  They are all the fruit of the spirit, but it seems to me that they are also all choices.

I need to love the people involved, express joy and not fear, have peace knowing that God is in control, be patient that He will work it out in the right time, be gentle with my words (and actions and attitudes), do good works, and have FAITH.

It's just easier to scream.

Lucky for me, Revelation 3:7 was written to the church, and so was Galatians 5:22.  Apparently, I'm not the only one who knows better but still has trouble with these things.

I Will Never Forget: My 9/11

My pastor spoke about 9/11 Sunday morning, on the 10th anniversary of the tragedy.  He read several of the stories about the people who were there and some of the people who narrowly escaped their sure deaths for various reasons.  They showed a video of news clips and photographs of the event.  My daughter, now 6 and hearing about it for the first time, sat staring at the screens, tears streaming down her face.

"Mom, were you there?" she asked.  Did you feel the towers shake and crumble and fall?  Could you hear the screams?  How close were you?  Were you hurt?  Was someone you know hurt?

"No, baby, but I watched it on TV as it was happening."  And felt every bit of sadness and confusion and terror in my soul.  Heard the screams ringing in my head.

"Did this REALLY happen?"  Eyes wide, afraid of the answer.  The horror in her eyes depicted one more piece of childlike innocence lost, that innocence that believes nothing this bad could ever happen in real life.

"Yes, it did."  And her world crumbles.

"WHO did this?"  Surely not someone in my life, someone I can relate to, look up to, respect.  What kind of person could do something this MEAN?

Who, indeed.  The bad guys?  The enemy?  To them, we were the enemy and they were simply doing work they could be proud of in the afterlife.

We had special prayer at church for the families of the victims during that service.  Each adult who walked in to the church was given two strips of paper.  On each strip was one name of a person who lost their life on 9/11.  My daughter held those pieces of paper in her hands as I held her close to my heart, and we prayed and cried for their families.

Then we prayed for the families of the people who flew the planes into the buildings on that day.

Never, in my wildest dreams, would I ever imagine myself praying for them.  But isn't that what Jesus did while he was on the cross?  He prayed for God to forgive the people who put Him there.  And aren't we supposed to follow His example in all things?

Pastor said we all have our own personal 9/11.  Events in our lives that stand out like no other.  Times We Will Never Forget.  Where we were, what it smelled like, who was around us, how time stood still and nothing else mattered.  Sunday morning, as I held my daughter and watched her heart bleed for people she never met, was one of those moments.

I made this list of some important events in my life that have happened in the last ten years.  Some good, some bad.  And there are others so personal that I can not mention them.

In the Last Ten Years, I:

• Drove a van through a stop sign, across a busy highway, over a ditch, and into a wall of trees, crumpling the van like an accordion.  Neighbors pulled me out through the window, with not a scratch on me.  I survived.

• Slept for a week in the ER waiting room praying for a friend who was thrown from and run over by a truck, breaking his neck in the process.  You could see the tire marks across his shirt, but not a single rib was so much as fractured.  He survived.

• Married one amazing man and we have spent seven very extraordinary years together.  Full of laughter, tears, anger, joy.  And I love him more today than I did the day I walked down the aisle towards the man at the front with the red face and tears streaming down.  He survived (so far).

• Gave birth to a gorgeous ten-pound Baby Girl Coffey, with bright blue eyes and brown hair and fair skin.  In spite of many issues surrounding that pregnancy and delivery, she survived.

• Held my eighteen-month-old daughter as my last remaining biological grandfather was laid to rest.  Knew how special he was and how much I would miss the fact that my daughter would not remember him.  We survived.

• Watched the screen, horrified, as the second plane flew into the second tower.  Confused.  Terrified.  Praying.  Thousands survived.  Thousands Did Not Survive.

Survival is not a given, but if you are blessed to live through something, whether good or bad, make the most of it.

The Bible speaks of horrible things that will take place in the "last days".  I think of 9/11 as just the beginning.  However, we can remember the tragedy of that day without living in the fear of what may happen.  We can honor the memory of those who lost their lives without bunkering down and hiding from life.  There is a season for everything, a time to mourn and a time to laugh.

I choose to remember the heartache, but look forward to the hope we have, that all things work together for the good.  Keep your heart right, priorities straight.  Pause to reflect, then keep on reaching for your peace.

Procrastination Is The Key To Sanity

A friend of mine just said, "procrastination is the key to sanity."

Huh?

Hmmmm....

Well, maybe she's got something there.  Some things just need to be procrastinated.

The Obvious One Would Be Death.  Delay driving your car over that cliff.  You might just witness Something Spectacular.

Not so morbid?  Okay, here are some other fun things to procrastinate that WON'T get you into trouble with your boss or Jesus or your spouse or your parents or whomever (not in any particular order):

1. Buying that incredibly expensive whatever thing that will go on sale next week.  Saving money is exhilarating (as I'll find out tomorrow, when I start saving my money).
2. Beating your husband over the head with a baseball bat.  Who's gonna take out the trash if you do that?  Think about it.
3. Getting sick.  Do that next week or something.  Too many fun things to do right now.
4. Road-raging at the teenager driving the car that cut you off, nearly causing a five-car collision.  Especially when your kid's in the car with you.
5. Having kids.  Love mine, but life would be easier if I graduated college first.
6. Shooting the neighbor's cat for making pawprints on your clean car.  Cause there are kids watching.  And you'd have to clean up the bloody mess.  And if you had my luck, you'd miss and the bullet would ricochet and you'd shoot your own eye out.
7. Eating broccoli.  Ewww.  All I can say is there has GOT to be some sort of medicinal use for that stuff that they haven't discovered yet, cause it COULDN'T have been meant for food!
8. Sweeping your floor when your kid wants to read a book to you.  Priorities, people!
9. Girls' Night Out when your hubby wants Family Fun Night In.
10. Burning bridges.  You may need to take an alternate route one day.

See?  I'm not a raving lunatic.  I procrastinate violence.  Be nice today, go Texas-Chainsaw-Massacre tomorrow!  Cause after all, tomorrow is another day.

Maybe she's right.  Procrastination IS the key to sanity!

Just be careful what you procrastinate.

EEYORE FOR PRESIDENT

A friend nominated me for Bloggers Choice Awards - Best Parenting Blog.

Has she READ my blog?!?!?  It's all about how I've failed my child!  Ants in her pants, hellooooooo?

I said, "Why are you nominating me for stuff you know I'm not going to win?  It's just embarrassing."

Her response:  "Quit being an Eeyore!"

My reply:  "I LOVE EEYORE!!!"

Her:  "Kinda figured you would.  Thought you might relate to him…[and, in her best Eeyore voice - sadly lacking the unenthusiasm, by the way]…. 'ho hum, glad you noticed.'"

 

My mind immediately stopped running through all of the visions of my favorite Winnie the Pooh character - losing his tail, having a balloon strapped to his behind, losing at Pooh Sticks - and eeeeked to a halt.

Whoops.

I AM like Eeyore.  I DO expect the worst.  I am pessimistic and faithless and certainly never hopeful.  In fact, as a teenager, I used to brag that my motto is "expect the worst but hope for the best."  Never really mastered the second part.  Eventually gave up the motto and went on to "oh well, it coulda been worse...I guess."

So, with that in mind, and in a certain-to-be-unsuccessful attempt to change my motto to "ANYTHING CAN HAPPEN", I will say click the Bloggers Choice link on this page

And

VOTE FOR EEYORE FOR PRESIDENT!!

 

I mean...vote for my blog as the Best Parenting Blog.

Because, after all, being a parent is about making mistakes.  And getting up and fixing it.  Or at least trying.

And if you vote for this as the Best Parenting Blog, aren't you, in a way, voting for my kid as being the best?  :o)  I mean, I can't be the best parent if my kid is the WORST KID EVER!

So, yes, I will say this IS the best Parenting Blog!

CAUSE MY KID ROCKS!!

And then go to www.abbygailmiller.blogspot.com and vote for hers as the Best Humor Blog.  Cause it is HILARIOUS that she would nominate my blog for Best Parenting Blog!  :o) 

Mow Power To Ya

It is HOT.  Louisiana Summer, middle of a drought (worst in decades, from what I hear).  Quite a few triple-digit temps.

And I love it.

If I didn't have places to be I would drive around town with my windows down.  Unfortunately, church/lawyer's office/grocery store/daycare is not exactly the place to be smelling like you live in a men's locker room.  So I keep my windows up and the air conditioner on.

You're welcome, world.

Well, two weeks ago I had the fantastic opportunity of going to my grandmother's house and mowing her lawn for her.  My grandmother lives on quite a few acres of wooded land which has been mostly cleared and still has a few stumps and quite a lot of trees.  My sister and I each got on a riding lawn mower, full speed, and spent the entire day mowing only about half of the acreage.  Turns out, it's slow going when you have to look out for holes where trees used to be and turning in and out of the ones that are still there and zig-zagging around giant limbs which were never picked up and eventually disappeared in the overgrown grass.  Some of them you just couldn't see until "thump-clank-twang-oopsy".

And maybe I shouldn't admit it, but I stalled a few times in the high grass because I didn't know what a choke was or that I had mine too low or something.  Dad and Poppa David came to my rescue with the pickup truck more than once.

Did I mention triple-digits in the Louisiana Summer Sun?  My bottle of water very quickly became too hot to drink.

And the drought?  Hello, dust!  I was kickin it up like I was plowing the desert!  The dust was so thick on me you could draw pictures on my arms.  I had to hose off twice just to come clean enough to walk through the house to the shower.  I was apparently still quite the sight to see.  My family was laughing at me and snapping pictures left and right (remember - this was AFTER I had stood under the water hose for about five minutes!).  I realized why, when I looked at myself in the mirror.  I didn't hose off my hair, which was completely dirt-colored, and the water didn't actually rinse the dust off.  It just made it look more like mud.  Streaked down my face, neck, and arms.

Luckily, I do NOT have any of those pictures, and thankfully, I have not seen any of them pop up on Facebook.  I have my suspicions that they are being held for future blackmail opportunities (I am scrambling to think of ways to earn enough money to buy back those photos - any suggestions?).

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That was probably the best way I've spent a Saturday in a LONG TIME!

Three days later, however, I received proof of what I had suspected at the time I was mowing.  One portion of my grandmother's land has a smallish patch of what appeared to my inexperienced eye to be the dreaded poison ivy.  And I mowed it.  I winced as I ran over the leaves, but continued along my way for several reasons:  1) it was just too late to turn by the time I realized what it was; 2) I had never actually seen poison ivy and was only going on assumption based on other people's descriptions of the leaves; 3) at least Poppa David wouldn't be the one to mow it.

Let's just say it was an interesting, itchy two weeks.

But the really crazy thing?

The heat, the sun, the drought and dust (although maybe not the poison ivy) - LOVE IT!!!

The peaceful roar of the motor drowning out all sounds outside of my head.  The intense heat searing the back of my neck.  Children sitting on the porch eating ice cream out of a cone as it melted, dripping down their little arms.  Women pulling weeds out of flower beds, men fighting with the weed wackers.  The solitude in the middle of the most amazing, loving family on Earth.  Being useful.

I probably wouldn't love it if my skin were a little bit whiter and I burned in the sun like my husband does.  I probably wouldn't love it if I were incredibly allergic to poison ivy the way some people apparently are.  I probably wouldn't love it if I had to mow that lawn every week instead of having a landlord who does it for me.  I probably wouldn't love it if I were using a push-mower instead of a riding one.  And I know I wouldn't love it if I were in my '80s.

But for now, I can't wait to get back up on that mower and go another round!

Does anyone have a lawn that needs mowing??  Poison Ivy Optional.

Happy Birthday, Angelyn Gayle

My darling little Baby Girl Princess Angelyn,

I called you Princess, because, like I have told you before, if you are the daughter of the King of Kings, that makes you a Princess.  You are one special little girl, and you are loved.

You are turning six today; so very hard to believe.  Just yesterday you were cuddled in my arms as a newborn baby, asleep on my shoulder.  Today, thankfully, you still want to snuggle up to Mommy (I'm not delusional - I know this phase will probably end some time this year), but sadly, you are just too big for me to hold anymore.  I still can't resist those big eyes looking up at me, arms outstretched, so sometimes I push my back to the limit and pick you up.  And pay for it the next day.  But I do treasure our moments together.

When you were five, you: lost four teeth all at once, learned how to swim without floaties, beat me in air hockey, rode a horse for the second time by yourself, learned how to skate, took the Wii to your room, were attacked by ants (which Daddy and I then annihilated for you), completed Kindergarten at the #11-ranked public elementary school in the State of Louisiana with a 97 in Reading and 95 in Math, made several new friends, met Cinderella and Tiana, fell in love with Rapunzel, and realized that you like oranges and "groovy smoothies" from McDonald's (but only the wildberry flavor).

You also learned how to read this past year.  First, I read your children's Bible to you, and now you are reading it to me!  Today, you can pick up any one of your children's books and read them with all of the inflection and soul that I do, without hesitating to sound out words.  You have your daddy's memory - once you have seen or heard it once, you know it forever.  And you have my love for reading and learning.  The most awesome combination I have ever wished for you.  You are the perfect blend of Mom and Dad.

You have some of our not-so-great qualities, too, but those are such that you can learn to live and thrive with them.  God made you this way for a reason; it is up to you to figure out what that reason is, and use your personality to do good things.  You are a sensitive soul.  People touch you profoundly, but also hurt you deeply.  Do not fear things that may or may not  happen.  Bad things will come, but so will the good.  If you can learn to let the bad things go and grab hold of the good in people and situations, then you will do well.

Never lose sight of what is most important - God and family will always be there for you, no matter what.  My arms will always be a safe place for you, no matter how old you are or how far apart we seem.  And if, by God's plan or man's interference, I am not able to be physically there when you need me, you will have my words, memories, and love to hold you tight.

To succeed in life, you will need a good work ethic, pleasant personality, and the best education you can get.  With your love of learning, you will not have to struggle with the education; you just need to keep going.  Don't let life distract you.  A college degree is the smartest investment you can make.  To not receive your degree is the biggest waste of all those years you worked in school.

One last thing before I quit with this year's birthday letter:  I have added a page to my blog about your childhood birthday wishes.  I want you to go back and look at the things you used to want when you were a child.  Look at that, study it, and remember that God, like Mom and Dad, sometimes says NO because it is in your best interest.  But then there are those sweet times when we say yes.  But whether the answer is "yes", "no", or "wait", we all three love you and we want you to be safe, happy, and successful.

I love you, always, no matter what.

Mom

Drama Queen of Hearts

My daughter is a drama queen.  With a really big heart.  God has BIG plans for this little girl.  And so do I.

She has been having recurring nightmares about little kids burning in a house fire.  I don't know if it is because of that one night when we were driving down the road and actually saw a house with flames shooting out of the windows and around the roof even before the firetrucks arrived, or if she overheard Johnny and me talking a few days later about a different house fire where a little boy saw the flames and told his mom and they reached the house just in time to save the people inside, or if she learned about Hell at Sunday School (or maybe all of the above).

But her biggest fear right now is fire.  She flips out if I light a candle.  She starts crying at really random times of the day and asks me if I know of a little kid who got burned in a fire.

Well, of course I have had fire safety talks with her since this all started, and tried to calm her fears about my candles, telling her how super careful I am, and never leave them unattended or near anything that might catch on fire.  When that didn't work, and she was scared that I might burn myself, I even did the really cool magic trick where I ran my finger through the flame and proved to her that it didn't hurt because I am SuperMom.  I know, that's risky, but I was at my wit's end!  You don't know how many HOURS I stayed up with her, wiping away her tears!  I had to show her that her Daddy and I know how to handle little candles and we are super careful.

And she doesn't believe I'm SuperMom anyways.  She's never seen me fly.  And there was that one time, when she asked me a question and I said, "I don't know."  Her reply?  "Ha!  I thought you said you know EVERYTHING!  You don't know everything, do you?"

Pedestal destroyed by my five-year-old.

But, surprisingly, the magic trick worked.  She is no longer afraid that I will burst into flames if I go near a burning candle.  And since I told her that I do not personally know any children who have been burned in a fire, she has stopped asking that question.

So that's her greatest fear at the moment, temporarily subdued.  Her previous one?  That someone would come through her window and try to take her.  Her reasoning?  I told her she was the most beautiful little girl in the entire world (coupled with the first time she watched Rapunzel, where the mean Mother Gothel stole the baby and snuck out through the window).  After weeks of trying, unsuccessfully, to convince her that no one was going to steal her (because Mommy and Daddy would protect her, because there was furniture blocking her window, because she was too big, because she talks too much - I tried everything I could think of), I finally broke down and told her the one thing no parent EVER wants to tell their child.

I told her she was not, actually, the most beautiful girl in the entire world.  She is beautiful, and sweet, and smart, and precious.  But there will always be someone more beautiful, sweeter, smarter.  I almost cried when I told her that.

Sadly, it worked.  And succeeded in breaking my heart.  I'm a terrible mother.  In trying to help my child, I hurt her, although she won't realize that pain until later on in life.  At that moment, she was just relieved that no one would be trying to take her.  She no longer fears being kidnapped.

Now, she fears fire.  But not for herself, strangely enough.  She is afraid of fire for me and for other little children she does not know.  Random children.  Big heart.

And have I ever mentioned what her one wish would be?  We were talking about the Bible story of when God told King Solomon that he could have anything he wanted in the world, just name it.  He asked for wisdom.  And because he chose wisdom, and not riches and the life of his enemies, God gave him the wisdom, and the riches, and the lives of his enemies.  So, I asked Angelyn what she would say if God told her she could have anything in the world.

My daughter said she would ask that God give every person in the entire world their own house.  Because there are some little children who do not have a house and a family like she does.

I have never been more proud of my baby girl than at that moment.  And a little disappointed in myself.  I think I would have wished for a BIGGER house for myself.  Well, I know I would have.  Read my post about my dream home.  I wrote that just a few days before my Baby Girl made her wish.

Maybe, instead of my little girl trying to be like me, I should try to be like her.

Seven Years of Wedded Bliss(ters)

Bliss:

• Family grows - A gorgeous 10-pound baby girl with blue eyes and brown hair, just what we dreamed!
• A shoulder to cry on
• A friend
• Second income!
• Family trips to a ballgame

Blisters:

• Watching our baby go through two surgeries before the age of three
• Heart problems
• Job loss
• Several wrecks
• Deaths in the extended families
• Late nights with a sick child
• Disagreements over minor things, and some major things
• Dreams put on hold
• Four moves in five years

More Bliss:

• Family movie night
• Sitting on the "Perry Pew" at church with my husband by my side and my daughter in my lap
• Teaching Angelyn to swim and watching her run around laughing and screaming, "No more floaties!"
• Receiving love notes from my kindergartener that read, "I love you Mommy you are the Best and I love you" and then watching her write the same one for her Daddy
• Hubby sees how tired I am and tells me to go lay down and he will tend to putting Angelyn to bed
• Hugs on demand, and sometimes unexpected
• New Dreams
• Amazing jobs
• Anticipated move
• Mommy's Night Out With The Girls
• Family

Here's to seven(ty) more years of wedded BLISS!  Happy Anniversary (on Sunday), Johnny!

I love you.

Wal-Mart. Nuff Said.

Have I ever mentioned that I hate Wal-Mart?  They are always - ALWAYS - out of at least one thing on my list, and they move things around so often that I can't ever just go in, grab something, and run out.  Oh, and they never have enough cashiers.

Never.

Ever.



So, my general practice (when I can't avoid going to Wal-Mart because they do carry some things that Kroger does not - assuming it's in stock when I get there), is to leave Angelyn home with Johnny and block out several hours for a "quick trip" to the store.

I try to be patient with the fact that there is an obstacle course made up of buggies left in the middle of the road and crazy people driving the wrong way down a one-way and non-handicapped people trying to figure out why the Wal-Mart wheelchair stops working in the middle of the parking lot (if they were handicapped, why wouldn't they park in one of the bajillions of handicapped parking spaces?).

After applauding myself for surviving the parking lot, I grab a buggy and begin my shopping.  But, because of the way they lay out Wal-Mart, I have to start at the back of the store where the soft drinks and laundry detergent are, make my way up the aisles toward the bread (otherwise my bread would be smooshed by my Diet Coke in the buggy), and then go all the way BACK to the BACK of the store at the frozen foods and start my way back up toward the meat, so my cold stuff stays as cold as possible.  And then I realize that the vitamins and toothpaste are on the opposite side of the store, so my carefully-planned road map is moot.

Then comes the fun part:  Checking Out!!  Wooooooohooooooo!



Like I said, there are never enough cashiers.  So I choose the shortest line, only to find out what everyone else apparently knew:  this is the slowest cashier in the history of Wal-Mart.  What would have taken someone else about 5 minutes took this girl 25.  No kidding.  I timed it.  Okay, not really, but it felt like 25 minutes.

I finally get to where I'm next, and the lady in front of me is paying out, when there is another delay (as if her holding up the lady in front of this one to go search the store for a gas card to save her ten cents per gallon wasn't bad enough).  The cashier hollers something to this effect:  "Hey, Mr. So-and-So, I need dimes!"

Okay, no big deal.  She needs dimes.  Wait.  What?  Dimes?  So this girl 1) waits until she is completely OUT of dimes to ask for more; and 2) doesn't realize that she can use nickels instead?

By this time I'm just laughing to myself.  It's quite funny, actually.  I didn't want to embarass her by suggesting nickels, so I waited, patiently.

As she was scanning my items, she said, with surprise in her voice, "Do y'all eat a lot of ketchup?"  I was a little confused, because I only bought one bottle (granted, it was the BIGGEST bottle they had), and had to laugh out loud.  "Well, yes, actually, we do,"  I replied.

What I didn't tell her is that this one bottle of ketchup just MIGHT last us a week.  I usually get two or more of them.  I have even bought the restaurant-sized ones before, the kind with the pump, that's like HUGE.

I left Wal-Mart laughing.  Which is much better than how it usually turns out.

Always an Adventure.

:o)  Gotta love Wal-Mart!

Favorite Part of Vacation

Are you coming or going?

For the longest time, I thought the best part of vacation was BEING on vacation.  Until this year.  I finally realized that while I am on vacation, I am usually disappointed that I am there (although having a great time) and not counting down until time to go on vacation (only three more days of vacation, etc., etc.).  What a waste of a perfectly good vacation that is!  To always be worried that soon we'll be on our way home, and then it's just "back to the ole grind" as they say in my family (do they say that in yours?).

And why should the "ole grind" be that bad?  I finally have a job that I absolutely LOVE.  Compared to some other jobs I've had (mostly involving changing dirty diapers or cleaning dirty tables), sitting at my computer, typing legal documents and answering the telephones while sharing funny stories with Abby across the hall, I've got vacation every single workday!

Nevertheless, no matter how wonderful your job is, everyone NEEDS a restful vacation and the casual weekend adventure (even if said adventure is played out between the bindings of a book while I sit soaking in a hot bubble bath on a Saturday evening).

So, last week, my family took a vacation.

And when I say "my family," what I really mean is my almost-ENTIRE extended Perry family.  I believe there were 25 of us in a cabin, together, for an entire week.  Twelve FAMILIES (think small children screaming and racing up and down the stairs, shooting each other with water pistols) under the same roof!

Scared yet?

In my personal opinion, with a couple of exceptions, that is the BEST way to have a vacation!  Granted, it was a twelve-bedroom, twelve-bath chalet called Morning View Manor at the Preserve Resort, not some dinky little cabin in the woods.  And it was set on the very top of a mountain the Great Smoky Mountain range, just outside of Pigeon Forge, Tennessee.  The view from the many balconies looked very much like this:



Heaven.

With our own little suite for Johnny, Angelyn, and me, and a car to help us escape when we got "cabin fever," we had a great time.  Thanks, Mamaw, for such an awesome vacation home, and for being the Matriarch of the most AMAZING family EVER!

But I still caught myself thinking, "only three more days of bliss, and then it's 'back to the ole grind'".  Ugh!  Get out of my head!  I spent the 52 weeks before vacation counting down to the day we left, and spent the week we were gone miserably counting down until we had to return.  Thankfully, while we were there, Mamaw reserved another cabin for us for next year, so I have something else to count down to.

But why do I always have to be either coming or going?  Why can't I just BE somewhere and enjoy myself?

Looking back on the week, we had a blast.  I taught Angelyn to swim, she rode a horse, we went to shows and museums and drove around the mountains "getting lost" and seeing how long it took to get back, we went "bear hunting" at Cade's Cove, Johnny ziplined (you won't catch me DEAD hanging by a wire over a mountain valley!), and we all just had so much fun.

But that's just it.  I'm looking back.  I need to learn to quit counting down to the next Fun Time and create one here, now.

I don't want to come or go.  I want to be.

Today, I may not be in the hills of Tennessee, but I am in my favorite state in the U.S.  I'm home in Louisiana, with sunny skies and green grass (well, mostly - we are in a record drought, you know) and fabulous heat and humidity.  I have a husband who loves me, a child who wants to be like me when she grows up (so she said this morning), parents who still look after me, and one amazing church to go to tonight.

"This is the day the Lord hath made.  I WILL rejoice and be glad in it."

"For I have learned that whatsoever state I am in, therewith to be content."

Charlie Perry

My hero.

Taught me to roller skate in his driveway.  I must've been 6 or 7.  He held my hand and taught me to go slow until I was sure of myself.  Caught me when I fell.

Watching him, without even realizing I was watching him, I learned the importance of service.  Serve he did.  He served by putting around the Campgrounds in his little overalls, fixing whatever needed to be fixed.  He served by sitting at the Tape Ministry booth in Bro. T. W. Barnes' church in Minden, Louisiana.  He served by helping my dad build a new house.  He served by mowing lawns, driving grandchildren around, chaperoning Superintendents, and doing just absolutely whatever needed doing.  Maybe I'm wrong.  Maybe I subconsciously choose to idolize him after he passed away and choose to block out the imperfections, but I just don't recall ever hearing him complain.

Except when it came to laziness or waste.  As a kid, I remember seeing him go to each of his nine grandchildren, asking which one of them left a half-full can of Coke on the table.  When none confessed, he grumbled for a while about the importance of money and the sin of wastefulness (remnants of the Great Depression Era?).  In a gentle, caring, grandfatherly sort of way.  To this day, I think of him every time I see a half-full can of Coke abandoned.

My Papaw would sit in his rocking chair after a long day of work, waiting for a beebopping little rugrat to scurry by, and he would bribe us with a quarter if we stopped long enough to sit on his lap and gave him a hug.  I would give every penny I have ever made if I could go back for another one of those hugs.

I remember fussing because he would let us ride in the back of his truck, but he would never go over 25 miles per hour.  BORING!  Couldn't even get a good breeze in the hot, humid, Louisiana summers unless you were at least going 40!

But we were all safe, and we were all cared for, and we all knew it.

I see a lot of my Papaw in my dad.  And in my brother.  Not much in myself, but I pray there is still hope for me.

I was so proud when Bro. T. F. Tenney made a donation in memory of my grandfather at Camp Meeting last night.  Of all the wonderful people he could have honored, he chose Charlie Perry.  Out of respect for Papaw's dedication and service.

If I remember the history correctly, Papaw drove the then-Superintendent of the Louisiana District of the United Pentecostal Church to view the site of what is now the Campgrounds in Tioga.  My Papaw and Mamaw spent every single one of their vacations at the Campgrounds.  By the time I was not-quite-old-enough to enroll in Youth Camp, my grandparents were regular fixtures, Papaw in his overalls, working on electric poles, Mamaw sitting in the office answering phones.  All of us Perry grandkids had "special privileges" at Youth Camps.  We just thought we were really something when we could sneak in to the tabernacle to get front-row seats when everyone else waited in line outside in the heat!

Well, we WERE special.  We were Perry grandkids!  Even before we realized how blessed we were, we could sense it.

We buried my grandfather the day my daughter turned 18 months old.  I felt a deep loss over the fact that Angelyn will never know Charlie Perry the way I knew Charlie Perry.  But I was wrong.  She will know him.  Through my memories.  Memorabilia.  Pictures.  Stories.

And through my dad.  My other hero, who lives to serve others, and who now putts around on the Ol' Campgrounds, fixing whatever needs to be fixed.

Long Live the Spirit of Charlie Perry, Dedicated Servant.



Coming Soon:  "Renaissance Man, Howard Kesler"
                      a tribute to my other grandfather
                                    my other hero

When Church and State Come Together

I live in the South.  In the heart of the Bible Belt.  There are churches on every corner of every town, big, small, medium.  Churches in the swamps, churches in people's homes, churches downtown and uptown and everywhere in-between.  Baptist, Catholic, Assemblies of God, Pentecostal, Jewish, Mormon, and all others under the sun.  And I love it.

This week is the 97th annual United Pentecostal Church Camp Meeting at the "Ol' Campgrounds" in Tioga, Louisiana.  I had the privilege of attending last night among more than 7,000 others.  Wednesday night is always Family Night, and my family shows up from all over.  This year, there were some fantastic Puckett People from Kentucky there.

Also in attendance were Gov. Bobby Jindal, Lt. Gov. Jay Dardenne, Secretary of State Tom Schedler, State Attorney General Buddy Caldwell, and numerous Representatives and other elected officials.

Yup, it's election time again, folks.  And politicians are to large, Southern church meetings what ants are to Jolly Ranchers.

Usually, during "politickin time" at Camp Meeting, I am preoccupied with looking around to see how many friends and family members from around the state (and the nation, in fact) I can find, making mental notes to go speak to them when the service is over, catch up on things.  Not so when Gov. Jindal speaks.

I heard him at a previous Camp Meeting, and remember that he doesn't give a politician's speech at these sorts of services.  The man preaches.  And he could hold his own with many charismatic preachers today of all denominations.  Amazing gift with words, expressions, the ability to connect with his audience.  And a passion for God like I have never seen from a politician before.  He is good.  Yes, it's election time, and yes, he is in election mode, and yes, he is a politician.  But if you hadn't known his name or face last night, you coulda sworn he was a Pentecostal preacher!  I kept waiting for someone to start running the aisles and jumping the pews!  I'm ashamed of the fact that I actually held back from doing that (was sort of wondering what the Troopers would do, to be honest).  And I was a little bit fascinated with the fact that my husband was absolutely glued to Gov. Jindal.

His words were worthy of repeating.  Unfortunately, I'm not great at remembering word-for-word, so forgive my paraphrasing, and please forgive if I mix something up.  But the gist of his message was that we need to wake up and fall on our faces before God, asking his help for our country.  He spoke of a famous man of the past who said that America has the right answers, after we try out everything else.  He said that Democracy is the worst form of government, except for all of the alternatives.  And he said that now that we've tried everything else, it's time to go back to what we KNOW will work:  prayer!

I don't think he and Pastor Anthony Mangun coordinated their sermons, but boy, were they on the same page!  Bro. Anthony's sermon was about the three ingredients to a successful family:  prayer, fasting, and the Word of God.  He said that prayer can change a nation.  For Example: Mordecai, Jonah, David, Samuel, and the list goes on and on.  I like the illustration of Samuel.  Samson was incredibly strong, performed many amazing feats, killed many men, but the Philistines kept coming.  It wasn't until the prophet Samuel prayed that the Philistines were no longer able to come against them.  Prayer can do things that strength, words, elected officials can't.  Bro. Anthony closed out his sermon with a challenge for men and women to get back to what really matters.  The "this is a football" Lombardi speech.

Wake up, people, and start praying again!

The one phrase that stuck out for me?  We can't yell about there being no prayer in schools when there is no prayer in our churches and our homes.

Wow.

And whoops.

Okay, I'm awake.

Blogged Down

I decided to keep my blog light-hearted, simple, not over-preachy, not politicky, and not too-Mommyish.  My blog was very boring.  A little too forced, not quite real.  So, now, I will just be me.

If I offend you, please forgive me.  But this is my blog.  You can choose not to read it if you wish.  Because I'm not writing this for you.  These are my thoughts, my prayers, my dreams.  I hope that one day, after I am gone, my daughter can read these posts and remember what her mother stood for, and maybe even recognize a little bit of herself in these random, crazy, wishful thoughts.

This is my legacy.  Call it my autobiography.  I may not have much in the way of possessions, but I do have experiences, knowledge, and hope to pass on to my Angelyn.  Along the way, if my words somehow touch someone else, then that is an added bonus.

I appreciate all comments, but please, keep this family-friendly, as little eyes will be watching.  A good philosophy for life, actually.

10 Guilty Pleasures

1.  a bag of chocolates in my desk drawer (not for sharing with the kid and hubby; these are mine, ALL MINE!!!)

2.  reading a book (yes, I feel guilty about reading a book for myself when I could be reading to my child or, better yet, have HER read to ME)

3.  blogging when there are so many better things to be doing with my time

4.  telling my kid to eat an oatmeal creme pie so I can lay in bed for an extra 15 minutes before getting up to fix her breakfast on Saturday morning

5.  buying a purse when I'm supposed to be saving for a family vacation

OKAY....so my topic was "10 Guilty Pleasures", but I can only think of 5.  Instead of being the boring person I obviously am (geez, who doesn't have at least 10 things they can enjoy?) and just changing it to "5 Guilty Pleasures", I will make up the remaining 5 and make it my mission to INDULGE!!!  mwa ha ha ha

6.  fishing...alone...for an entire day

And it's at this point that I realize I really AM an incredibly boring person, because I CAN'T EVEN MAKE UP ANY MORE THAN THAT!!!!  So I'm enlisting the aid of my friend (and only blog follower), Abby

7.  buy fresh flowers for no reason

8.  pedicure

9.  get my hair done - not cut and colored, but just styled for one day (since my hair drags the floor, it will be REALLY fun to have someone else stress about how to fix it!)

10.  T.B.D.

I guess I'm not as adventurous as I once thought.  Any suggestions?

Lock Em Up and Throw Away the Key!

Conversation with my five-year-old after passing a work-release crew on the drive to daycare:


-Mom, do kids go to jail?


-Well, sometimes, if they do really bad things, they go to a special place just for kids.


-Like sometimes when I do bad things?


(chuckling at the thought of locking my kid up for not cleaning up her room)


-No, honey, you have to do REALLY bad things, like hurt someone, for a kid to go to jail.


-Like punch someone in the face?


(slightly violent thought from my baby)


-No...worse.


-Like punch someone in the face, HARD?


(time to change the subject before this conversation turns deadly!)


******


I grinned the rest of the way to drop off my sweet little girl at daycare.  To be so innocent that she thinks punching someone in the face will get her thrown in jail!  Well, to be honest, I restrained myself from asking her where she got the idea of punching someone in the face.  But then I decided to be thankful that THAT is her idea of prison-worthy violence!


I'm not naive enough to think it will stay this way forever.  I remember what school was like.  I was in the first grade when an older kid on the bus offered me drugs for the first time.  I am terrified of what next year will bring for my Angelyn.  And the year after that.  And the year after that.  And when she's a teenager?  The HORROR!


And I remember my time actually working in a daycare in a land far, far away.  The kids there had a slightly different version of what sort of behavior is acceptable.  In my brief tenure as head teacher of the school-age class during one summer, I heard such things as, "I'm going to stab you!"  "I'm going to stab your eye out!"  "I hate you and I'm going to kill you!"  And my very favorite, from a first-grader: "I will slit your throat and cut you up with a chain saw into tiny pieces."  And that last one was actually directed at me for taking away a classroom toy that the angelic-looking thing was using as a weapon against another child.  Needless to say, I promptly put in my appeal to transfer to the infants' room (I know when I am defeated)!


Imagine my delight to learn that my daughter thinks punching someone in the face will get her locked up into kiddie jail!  If that's the worst thing she has learned at school/daycare so far, THANK GOD!


So, for now, I'll keep on being that over-protective, paranoid mother who only wants her kid to watch Nick, Jr. until she's about twenty-one.  And I'll thank God that she thinks a knuckle sandwich will earn her a stint in the can.


So very blessed.