Monthly Archives: March 2013

The day I had wine with Jesus

A few years ago, my family took a spring break trip to Florida to visit my sister and brother-in-law. It was a mild winter, but the warmth and the Florida sun (which I miss most days) were welcome hosts. We had plans to attend one of the theme parks, and I REALLY wanted to go to the Holy Land Experience (which for lack of a better description is a theme park without rides). I learned about HLE the year before when we were stuck in traffic trying to get to dress fittings for my sister’s wedding. My Nannie bursting with joy said, “I really want to go there someday!” (Sadly, she never did, but she walks the streets of gold today.)

We were just going to go for the morning, but we kept finding more shows or more things to see and do that we stayed the whole day. Our party included three generations who all enjoyed themselves. I didn’t really intend for this to be a travelogue; so, you will have to check out the website if you want to learn more.

Our visit coincided with Easter week. We had heard over the radio and internet to arrive early that they were expecting record attendance for such an important week for Christians. They were not wrong, but my fear of crowds didn’t really overwhelm me there. (The theme park was another story.)

As today we mark the anniversary of Jesus’ last supper with his disciples, I wanted to share my experience of dining with Jesus. At HLE, one of the opportunities you have is to have communion with “Jesus” – an actor who humbly takes on that role. My inner skeptic was a little leery, but from the moment I stepped inside the cave style dwelling, my imagination allowed me to transport myself to a time many years ago. Each person – man, woman, and child – is given a beautiful little cup carved from olive wood from the actual Holy Land (not the one in downtown Orlando).

“Jesus” talks with everyone, engaging both in his words and his eyes. He literally serves you bread and wine, and he blesses everyone there as he prays for the group as a whole. It was a mesmerizing experience – one that my children recall fondly. I remember having tears in my eyes because I knew that this actor was soon to be playing His role in the Passion. I knew the story by heart before that encounter, but it felt so much more real knowing that the “Jesus” with me was soon to be handed over.

Most of the other souvenirs from that trip have either been outgrown or garage sale fodder, but not those little wooden cups. We each still have them and lovingly we bring them out each Easter as a remembrance of the time we had wine with Jesus.

Precious memories. . . indeed!

Jesus and his peeps

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Jesus & Judas – I found this picture on hypervocal.com. I would love to credit the original creator. It is not listed on their site and it is stunning work.

When Clo was just over a year old, Reed taught her to say “What up my peeps?”. Seeing that curly-headed bundle of sweetness toddle around saying such a thing made anyone within earshot burst into laughter. It was one of the first things my future brother-in-law heard my kids say. Big brothers, argh!

A quick look at my Facebook account reveals that I am just shy of my own 400 peeps. (I’m not actually counting, and I had to go look it up.) I have been blessed with such amazing friends that my cup runneth over. Some of the KF’s (Kandy’s Friends) I have only met once and others I have never met in person but business dealings have connected us across the miles. I epitomize the saying that it isn’t what you have but who you have in your life. A closer look would find that there is an inner sanctum – the tight circle of besties that are there for me before I even need to send out the bat signal. Yet missing in that number are a few who have brought me heartache through the years, and though I have forgiven them I just haven’t been able to stick my heart back into their drama. For some of those relationships it took me years to realize that we weren’t good for each other. I read a book once that in a nutshell brought relief to this girl’s heart and soul. The author relayed that God calls us to forgive those that hurt us, but He doesn’t call us to live with basement dwellers – those that perpetually bring us down. That simple statement was freeing to me.

A while back I went with a friend whom I admire to our church’s regional women’s leadership conference. One of the speakers was a really young priest (I forget which denomination), but she was a dynamic speaker. She spoke on the thousands that came to see Jesus, but that mostly he was surrounded by a group of close friends. Later, she talked about those hurts committed against us by those closest to us. This is something that I really understand. What came out of her mouth next totally shocked me. “Jesus gets it. He gets when someone you love lets you down and hurts you deeply. Remember – here she paused and lowered her voice – he only ended with 11 friends because one of them (Judas) defaulted.”

What did she just say? Her words rained down like a soothing balm to my soul. The point of her talk was a reminder to take our hurts before the Lord of Lords because he understood hurt and betrayal. I love Jesus, and I love “talking” to Him, but never once in forty years had I thought about that He too was let down by his friend. And not just once either – Thomas doubted, Peter denied and those are only the examples of the ones we know about.

Jesus laughed and cried with his friends (not just the disciples). The sweetest verse to me is John 11:35 Jesus wept (NIV) when he learned of his friend Lazarus death. That verse reminds me that he did hurt emotionally. His heart leapt when He celebrated with His friends. He rejoiced. He attended weddings and parties, and He stayed up late just talking with His friends. He also retreated, prayed, rested, and loved.

Hey – wait a minute! We do all those same things, but seldom do we stop and think that Jesus – in His humanness – did a lot of stuff with his friends just like us. Why did I never stop to think that he too was hurt by them as well? As Easter is approaching, we remember that Jesus was fully God and that he took on the sins of the world, but we forget that he was also fully human, feeling the same things you and I experience.

He was wounded by humanity, but his heart was wounded by one close to him first. Simply the sweet little priest was right; Jesus gets it. When we are hurt or wounded, we really can turn to him. He’s there with open arms and listening ears. Although, I don’t think he would really say it, it might be easier to reach out if we envision him saying, “What up my peep?” You never can tell . . .

The thing about leprechauns

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One of my earliest memories is arriving to my kindergarten classroom on St. Patrick’s Day only to discover the whole room turned topsy-turvy with the windows left wide open. Keep in mind this was March 17 in Pensacola so Minnesota’s winter wind wasn’t something we had to contend with. The alarmed and shell-shocked teacher asked us all to help her pick up and to see if we could figure out what happened. Eventually one of my classmates discovered footprints – GREEN! and lots of them on the windowsills. Leprechauns!

I only have a few memories from kindergarten, but this one is definitely my favorite. As the Luck of the Irish would have it, those leprechauns stuck with me my whole life, and now they come to visit each year that my children remember to put out our special St. Paddy’s day treasure box. Fortunately, we know all about the wee folk, their friends, and all their doin’s.

Once or twice, we have been pixie-led in a forest. We have listened for water sprites in babbling brooks. We look for faerie nets in the morning dew, and we sincerely hope that those faeries are wearing out their shoes. (Of course, that’s how the leprechauns get their gold – fixin’ faerie shoes.) Then there are the leprechauns. . .

As I’ve gotten older, I seem to have a complicated relationship with the three that visit our house. For as long back as Reed was old enough to leave out a treasure box, the same three Irishmen have visited our house. Oh, I believe in them, but I just don’t endorse their ways all the time. The funny thing about leprechauns is they do keep their promises; albeit not exactly the way you think they should.

They are obliged to fill that treasure box if you leave that treasure box out by the light of the moon on St. Patrick’s Eve. The problem arises when the whole “Hey! They’re trying to find me gold” mentality that the wee folk have rears its ugly head. When the kids were really little that thought never crossed their minds. But as it goes with children, they, too, get bigger and their thinking gets more sophisticated.

Almost overnight, some type of magic switch turns itself on, and my normal children become construction experts as well as engineering and architectural aficionados. They have created elaborate traps, each offering some alluring “bait” to entice the leprechauns to enter in the hopes of hitting it big – meeting a leprechaun. (So far, none have spent their gold before they caught one.)

Trap 2013 – complete with Fairy Cloie’s house on top of a gold mine

All the shoes that Fairy Cloie needs repaired.

All that gold – notice the trap door string.

Well, despite their yearly return, the leprechauns don’t take too kindly all this trap business. Each year they leave a treasure ranging to sugary cereal like Lucky charms (which my kids’ mom would never buy) and various Irish treats and treasures. But what they really leave is a big fat mess and a treasure box hidden in some elaborate place! Whole rooms of furniture have been turned upside down, children’s rooms have been toilet papered, and one year the entire dining room was set up outside on the lawn. They might be little, but they aren’t weak.

Expensive cereal and messes in my house! Sometimes my love of these pint-sized gentlemen wears a little thin. But when I see the sweetness in the notes they leave each and every year encouraging my kids to keep studying because someday – just someday – they might actually catch one of them, my heart goes right back to my first leprechaun encounter all those years ago.

So to Seamus, Finnegan, and O’Malley if you are out there reading this blog, thank you for keeping the magic alive at our house. Somedays it really does pays to be an Irish girl, especially one young of heart.

Oops, I almost forgot. Finnegan – Cloie did find your hat, and she promises next year to leave it next to the ~~trap~~ treasure box.

Finnegan’s hat and this year’s note.

Bling it on!

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I like comfort anything. Comfort foods, comfort quilts, comfort footwear – all of them rate very highly in my daily existence. I love boutique shopping, but more often than not, you can find me in a favorite t-shirt and jeans. Even though I am really into comfort, aside from gardening season, I really enjoy having well done nails. I cherish being unique in my style, and for an outfit to really be mine, it has to involve something animal print, from the ocean, from the heart, or something with a touch of bling.

I was blessed with the best mother-in-law in the entire world. I love her, but if she were to have a signature look it would not include any of my pizazz. Jeans, t-shirts, and sweatshirts are her daily uniform – but no embellishments and definitely no bling. I adore her and there isn’t much that she does that anyone could improve upon.

That was until . . . yesterday. My mom-in-law is like the Pied Piper of children, and one of her tried and true tips is to always have play dough on hand. Of course, it is the homemade kind that is so much better than store bought. She has an entire corner of her kitchen dedicated to all things play dough. Over the years some additions have been made to her recipe like using Kool-Aid packets instead of food coloring for tint. I even once added essential oils as an experiment for aromatherapy dough. (It worked, but we never repeated it. I have to say lemon dough was pretty amazing. )

As we were preparing for St. Patrick’s Day, I just couldn’t help myself. I decided to attempt something I had seen on the internet somewhere (my friends would tell you probably Pinterest) by embellishing Grandma’s Dough in honor of our good friends the leprechauns. We made the recipe below as usual, but as we were cooking on the stove we added 2 tablespoons of gold glitter. I, of course, loved it as did my little shadow who also has a penchant for all things fuzzy and bling-y.

She thought it was much too wonderful to keep to ourselves; so, we made a bag for her friend and a bag for the leprechauns (more on that tomorrow).

Some days, I feel as if childhood is becoming an endangered species in this country. I will do anything possible to keep that magic alive. I want my kids to be kids as long as they can. Honestly, though, I am not sure who had more fun making sparkly dough. I think it would be a tough call.

Long live imaginations including hers!

Grandma’s Play Dough recipe (Kid tested and approved!)

Heat burner to medium.

1 cup flour, 1/2 cup salt, 2 tsp cream of tartar, 2 Tsp cooking oil, 1 cup water, food coloring or Kool-Aid mix, 2 Tsp glitter (We used gold, but my imagination tells me that faeries might like purple.)

Mix water and food coloring or Kool-Aid mix.

Stir this and other ingredients together in a saucepan.

Put on burner, stirring 3 to 4 minutes until mixture looks like stiffly mashed potatoes.

Allow to cool and then enjoy!

Sweet Grace: hope-filled

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Note: While we are working on our website, the monthly newsletter will be found on the blog. Once we have it finalized, the newsletter will be available by subscription only. Graciously, we have some guest posts in this newsletter as we welcome submissions from our friends for the newsletter. Our lives have been enriched by the friends that God has put in our paths, and we would love for you to get to know them a little bit as well.

~ Real women ~ Real lives ~ Sweet Grace ~

As a little girl, Easter was always my favorite holiday. I enjoyed Christmas, but Easter always made my heart just jump for joy. I loved picking out the perfect Easter dress, bonnet, shoes, and those oh so adorable white gloves. I still love gloves today. There is just something so genteel about little white gloves. Growing up down South, we had egg hunts outside and sunrise services where we didn’t freeze to death. When Easter morning arrived, I could hardly contain my excitement. The items in my basket were always good, but for me the pure joy came when we stepped through the doors of our white church. He is risen! He is risen indeed! Those hope-filled phrases were used in place of hello, and they echoed from every corner of the sanctuary. Christmas is wonderful, but it if you want to see joyful Christians come to church early on Easter morning. I like contemporary Christian music, but I was raised on good old Southern gospel hymns. Each Easter, joy and hope exuded from every pore as we sang “Because He Lives” and “Christ the Lord is Risen Today”. Even today, I still get goose bumps when I hear the organ roll leading into the chorus of “Up from the Grave He Arose”.

Easter is the definition of HOPE. Maybe not according to Webster’s, but it really should be. Recently, I have been grappling with the reality of Easter. For any believer who has lost someone, the significance of Easter is a clinging hope. The only hope that makes sense. It is the promise that through Christ’s sacrifice, we will see those loved ones again. His incredible gift to humanity has made that possible. When I was a little girl singing with her church family, I would often get choked up on Easter morning. The chocolate bunnies and Peeps were nice, but even then I realized that someone gave his life for me. Lately, my conflict has been are we recognizing what Jesus really did? He didn’t just give up extra cream in his latte or get bumped off a flight. He gave his life in a cruel, brutal and foretold way so that we could know the lavish depth of His Father’s love. If you have ever felt unloved, this is why you shouldn’t. He loved you enough to go through with the most horrific of deaths. If you ever feel left out or rejected, please know that he chose me (and you and everyone else) – loved me enough to lay down his life. But even more significantly, he would have done it even if I was the only one who needed to be saved, and that alone fills my heart with hope.

Family Cooking: Easter Bread Nest

oneperfectbite.blogspot.com

This has been a gift for several years from our friend, Karla Adams. She is an amazing cook, seamstress, volunteer, and friend. Actually, I don’t know much she isn’t good at. Kandy’s kiddos have always loved when the Easter “knock” comes and there she is with the gift of this bread. It always looks beautiful on our Easter table. Delicious, fun, and something the whole family will love.

Ingredients:

2 Frozen loaves bread

5 raw eggs

Food coloring

Powdered sugar frosting

Dye eggs with food coloring. Add food coloring to 1/2 c water. Dye as desired. DO NOT boil eggs first.

When bread is thawed and just starting to rise, make into ropes of dough. You will have 2 long ropes. Take the ropes and twist them together. Place on a greased cookie sheet. Shape into a circle and pinch the end together to form this circle. Place the dyed eggs into the braided gaps. This will look funny at first. But as the bread rises it will look more like a nest.

Spray dough with cooking spray. Try not to spray eggs. Place a flour sack towel over it. When bread has doubled in size, bake @ 350 for 25– 30 minutes or until golden brown.

Cool completely. Drizzle with powdered sugar frosting. Leave it white or color it. Sprinkle with Easter colored M&M’s or robin egg candies.

NOTE: Before making the ropes I like to roll out each loaf of bread and add some butter and sugar with cinnamon. This gives it a little extra look and taste.

February Challenges: The February newsletter’s theme was love. We encouraged our readers to Did you love your neighbors? Did you encourage a young person last month? If so we would love to hear from you.

The best laid plans . . . well, we didn’t get the neighborhood soup night accomplished. The mission/tagline of this ministry ~ Real women ~ Real lives ~ Sweet Grace isn’t just something we say, but it is how we really operate on a daily basis. We want to be genuine and real, even when we come up short on goals. Instead of soup night, we cleared snow off of driveways following a recent snow storm. Our neighbors who were out of town returned home to clean driveways and were able to just relax. I did accomplish the writing of letters for challenge #2. I chose six teenagers to write letters of encouragement and told how proud I was of them. Most importantly, I told them how I was glad they were in my children’s lives. After I had mailed them, I told my kiddos that I had done it, in case any of the recipients said anything to them. A few did, and I received a call from one mom. The best was the one who caught my eye (didn’t say anything), but made sure I noticed her after the school band concert. It felt really good to do it. So much so, that I think it is going to become a habit.

Making hope a habit is the lesson from our guest writer this month. Our friend, Fay Prairie has blessed us with a great piece on choosing hope. Fay is a speaker, writer, counselor, wife, mom, and friend. You can learn more about her at her website http://www.fayprairie.com/ I have enjoyed getting to know her, and she has been a huge encouragement to me as I have decided to follow God’s leading in forming all of this.

Hope Can Advance Your Life

Life is full of uncertainties, disappointments, and moments of despair. However, even when times get difficult and intimidating, as long as we keep hope alive, we can continue to move forward with confidence.

When you have hope, you believe and have faith that things will get better and you will persevere. Hope is a powerful attitude which opens doors where despair slams them shut.

The Webster definition of hope is the “feeling that what is wanted can be had or that events will turn out for the best” or the “feeling that something desired may happen.”

How does hope help us in our life?

1. Hope helps us to feel stronger. When we truly believe things will get better, we are willing to do whatever it takes. With hope we can look to the future with confidence and excitement, and we can begin to do more than we ever imagined.

2. Hope helps us focus on the positive. Whatever we focus on grows. When we maintain our focus on the positives in our life, more positive things come into our life. Hope allows us to look forward to all the wonderful things in life.

3. Hope helps us envision possibilities and solutions There will always be difficulties, but hope helps us to visualize good outcomes. It allows us to expect good things to happen.

4. Hope gives us the desire to learn and grow. Hope helps us regain interest and get involved more fully in life. By growing as a person we will make improvements that lead to greater life-satisfaction and well-being.

5. Hope helps us to take an empowered view toward life. A hopeful attitude helps us see the best, work for the best, and, ultimately, experience the best in life. Hope increases our joy, courage and level of success in life.

No matter what you face in life, always think hopefully, speak hopefully, work hopefully, and act hopefully. Do all you can to make hope a daily habit. Remind yourself that regardless of what happens in your life, you always have the option to choose hope.

Family Traditions

For the last few years, Kandy’s and Brenda’s families have gotten together to dye Easter eggs. We all look forward to it. Last year, I think we dyed eight dozen eggs. We decided the four dozen from the year before just wasn’t enough. Everyone gets involved. There is a lot of creativity – including planning for the next time we do this. Conversations of I saw this cool idea in Martha Stewart magazine or on Pinterest come up more than once. We dream, we plan, but mostly we laugh. I don’t think anything tops the laughter from the year we created a mural with the left over dye. After admiring everyone’s creations, we lamented about how the dye was just going to go to waste. As a teacher, I am always up for a new experiment. With a twinkle in my eye, I ran downstairs and grabbed an old white sheet that was destined to become a plant protector when the fall frosts threatened my garden. We took those coffee cups filled with dye and splatter painted that sheet. It was amazing. It was so much fun that it lands up there with catching fireflies, playing in the sprinkler, and running to meet the ice cream truck for this Southern girl. Of course, the most laughter came after the sheet dried and we noticed the now Easter dyed lawn. Oh well, a little collateral damage was worth the fun we had.

We would love to hear of your families Easter traditions. Please respond to this post with what Easter traditions you and your family hold dear.

Family Easter Garden

We decided to see repeat a blog from last year because it was such a wonderful activity that our whole family enjoyed. Our littlest one took pride each day in spritzing the garden with water. As the garden grew, she delighted in trimming the lawn with scissors.

http://kandynolesstevens.com/2012/04/02/easter-countdown-part-1-johnathan-has-a-starring-role/

March Encouragement

Spend a few minutes each day in the next week, praying and asking God to bring to mind one – just one – person that you can bring hope. Often in life, it is the small things that bring the most hope. Once you know who that person is do one small thing for them – write a note, send flowers, drop by for a visit, make a call, make a meal, do a chore. Just do something, and leave a message of hope. If you feel comfortable, you can tell the recipient you were the hope-filled giver. We would love to hear what you decide to do.

Ministry Update

We are proud to announce that we have partnered with 5j Design LLC to design our logo and website to help us basically help ourselves (when we are way over our heads technically speaking). They are assisting us in developing a better way to reach others with the message of God’s grace and love. In the coming months, we should have a new website with a more streamlined method of communicating with our friends and churches. The story of how we found Jake and Zach is an amazing God story, but just know He is looking out for us. Based on guidance from our friends at 5J Design, we have made one small change in our ministry. Watch for the unveiling of that change in the coming days.

We wait with hope for spring filled days where we can sit on the deck, sipping sweet tea and chatting. Until then, we would love to chat with you.

Kandy & Brenda

Romans 15:13 May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that by the power of the Holy Spirit you may abound in hope. (NIV)

Surgery No. 7

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Middle of the night,

Sleep wouldn’t come.

I looked for you there, snuggled in my bed, calling out Your name.

I lay there waiting for Your peace, hoping Your loving hands would wrap around me with the message,

“Daughter, I am here. Your boy will be just fine. He, too, is in my hands.”

I rested knowing that I know You heard my pleas.

Routine as normal – dogs, breakfast, school.

Our other routine – surgery prep came next.

Pack, prepare, read, re-read, do anything however small to take your mind off what comes next.

The clock ticks slowly, but it now says it is time to go.

My momma heart aches. I know this is going to hurt.

If he’s afraid, he doesn’t show it. Once again, he is comforting me.

Thank you, God, that this time . . . this time the surgery is on our home turf.

We aren’t splintered as a family.

Again, I wanted to feel your peace.

After necessary paperwork to the surgical suite we go.

I found You there.

as our pastor was praying with someone else.

A gentle reminder that we are not the only ones that hurt.

Off we go to his room.

I have to smile because maybe it should have our name on it because it is the room I had in the fall.

Stevens Family Surgical Suite

By now, our new family tradition is trips to hospitals with March being our “celebration” month.

Three of the seven surgeries took place in March.

Questions

Yeah, whatever!

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Yesterday, I wrote about the blessing of friendship. Over the weekend, my pastor spoke about having friends who love us enough to offer reproof. You know the type of friends who see we are doing something wrong and who are bold enough to say it.

Faithful are the wounds of a friend. Proverbs 27: 6a (NASB)

Ouch! I don’t think I had ever really dissected that verse. Reliable, faithful friends. Check! I’ve got those. Friends who point out what I don’t like to hear. Yep! I’ve got those too. I have a couple friends who God’s mission for their lives must be to point out whenever I’ve said “Yes” once too many times. Do I like it? Not usually. Do I make excuses? Absolutely! Do I know they are right? Yes, and eventually, I accept that they have offered sage advice. There is always the one friend, however faithful, that just comes right out and says it like it is.

After my pastor drew attention to that verse on Sunday, I was immediately transported back to a day about a week ago. That day we received some unsettling news, and there was an big evening event at our school I was to attend. I chose to stay home to be quiet and crochet. After a while, I received a text from THAT friend.

Where are you?

I didn’t feel well. Chose to stay home. I’m watching Matlock & crocheting.

Dan said you were under the weather.

Yeah, I’m fine. Just wanted a quiet night at home.

Yeah, whatever! I don’t believe you. What is really going on?

What just happened here? She saw right through my smoke screen, and she called me on it. Since she was sitting in the bleachers surrounded by my husband and many of our friends, I sent her the honest answer, but prefaced it with a “DO NOT FREAK OUT! I will call you tomorrow.” text. Then I proceeded to tell her that we learned that Sawyer was going to need another surgery. I always knew it might have to happen, but I just wasn’t ready for it yet.

It was going to be surgery – number 7, and another one in March. This month has not-so-affectionately become surgery month for our boy. I hate it, and I just needed a night to process it. I think if I had gone to the school and anyone even looked at me, I would have cried. I couldn’t bring myself to put on a happy face. Instead, I chose to stay home and surround myself with comforting things – old quilts, old crafts, and old shows. The whole time I sat at home wishing this wasn’t our life, and wishing I could I wish it all away.

In reality, even though I was trying to hide from the world, God knew exactly what was going on. He wasn’t fooled for a minute. His awareness of my sadness is most likely what caused my friend to basically say, “Cut the crap. I don’t know what’s going on, but you are NOT fine.” Faithful are the wounds of a friend.

Her “wounds” allowed me to open up and share with her and several others about what my tomorrow holds. Her “wounds” allowed me to face my fears, but more importantly, it reminded me of the heart of this verse. Friends who say it like it is do so because they love us. They remind us that even if we feel isolated, we are never really alone.

Where’s my Bat signal?

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A while back, I received a call from a dear friend who needed some help. The request was one that I accepted realizing that it was going to be a stretch for me to pull it off. In my heart though, I knew other friends would have my back (or in this case, neck).

The request was simple. My friend (who is a preschool teacher) was looking for someone to make 8 little scarves in two weeks for her students to receive as gifts during their study of winter weather. The catch: they needed to be knit or crocheted. There was a book that she would be reading as a culmination of the unit, and the scarves would be a part of that story.

I hung up the phone, and then, thought what in the world did I just say I would do. (That type of behavior is my own curse, and fodder for a whole different blog.) Without hesitation, I went to my version of the Bat-signal. Batman had his alert method, and I have mine. Formerly, it was CaringBridge but now it is Facebook. As fast as my fingers could fly, I posted my friend’s request and asked for help. I pledged to create two, but I explained I could use some extra hands and needles/hooks for the remaining six. Within eight hours, all eight were spoken for. And within a week and half, all were delivered into the hands of some little preschoolers.

I never really doubted that they would be, but what amazed me was a comment that another “friend” posted. I should clarify our friendship status. We “met” making a transaction online, and the necessity of that business deal required us to befriend each other. Once we did, we discovered we had some similar interests and thus an online friendship formed. We’ve never actually met one another in person.

Yet in the midst of my friends chiming in that they were on it, this gal’s comments stopped me in my tracks. Sometimes especially when I encounter lemons or changes in plans, I forget just how blessed that I really am. The comment while simple summed it up perfectly.

Kandy, even though we have never met, you must have the most amazing friends.

She was right, and I knew it. Many times those same sweet friends have come to my rescue for all kinds of things including some of my doing. I don’t live anywhere remotely close to my family at all, and most of my husband’s family is fairly far away as well. Sometimes I don’t even have to ask for the help, my friends just know when to call, text, or show up. Somehow they get God’s gentle prompting that I need them.

Proverbs 20:6
Many will say they are loyal friends, but who can find one who is truly reliable? (NLT)

Thankfully, in my case, the answer to that question is “I can” many times over. Today, I’m counting each and every one of those blessings, knowing I probably never needed that Bat-signal anyways!

Life’s sweet lemons

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Today was one of those “when life hands you lemons” sort of days. My littlest one coughed all night long, and we chose to keep her home from school. We’ve been having some car troubles; so, I sent the big kids to school in a more reliable vehicle. Thus, I had no wheels to get to my doctor’s appointment, but I didn’t really want to take a sick little girl out anyway. Now I have to reschedule into my already busy agenda. Lemons!

One of my favorite Southern girl quotes is “When life hands you lemons, put ‘em in your sweet tea and thank God you’re a Southern girl.” Embracing that spirit AND with a full glass of tea in my hands, I decided to make the most of it. I looked at my ever present to-do list and decided the laundry and the ironing made the cut today. I enjoy ironing, so it was somewhat therapeutic to press away. During my chore time, I noticed a Redbox case still sitting by the television. Shoot! We have got to get that returned. One more lemon!

Between items, I went over to pick up the DVD only to discover it wasn’t in the box. I attempted to get the DVD out of the player, but attempt was the operative word. It wouldn’t budge. I was beginning to wonder if I needed more than chemistry and mathematics degrees to know how to operate the thing. Then I realized it wouldn’t even turn on. I decided to wait until one of the guys came home. Sawyer was here first so I asked him to retrieve the DVD and return it to the store.

I heard a lot of fiddling around, and eventually, I heard the toolbox open up. I came out to ask what was going on when I heard the unmistakable sound of a ratchet-style wrench. His idea was to take the cover off and just see what was going on. Boys! I just wanted to return a rental, and here I was having technology surgery on my kitchen table. Talk about lemons!

The cause of the current lemon challenge was shocking. Instead of just something stuck in the path of the sliding drawer was the evidence of small fire that had taken place in our DVD player. That DVD player was in the basement that we just spent an entire year remodeling.

At that point, I was thanking God that I was Southern. I was thanking Him that He showed me just how important small inconveniences really can be. We were saved from losing anything more than a $30 DVD player, when the consequences could have been much, much worse.

I was thanking Him for the protection of my family and our memories and the realization that He is always watching over us. What began as inconveniences that were mildly bitter became blessings that never tasted so sweet.

For the love of boys and trucks

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It never ceases to amaze me. God will put something in my head as a topic for this blog, and then He gives my heart confirmation that He meant it. It happens all the time. In fact, it happened today.

I had been thinking about how I had never really written about my little blue pick-up truck. Well actually, it was my Papa’s (pronounced Pawpaw) truck. Long ago, I lived with my grandparents in graduate school. That time of my life remains one of my most special. One day after classes, my Mama (Mawmaw) told me that they were working on their will and were wondering if there was anything that I had my heart set on. Looking back, the conversation was quite comical.

How about one of the cedar chests?

Sorry shug, your cousin has already asked for those.

How about your bedroom furniture?

No, I’m sorry that is going to your Momma and Daddy.

How about the kitchen chairs?

Well, um, no hun. Another cousin has already spoken for those.

(Eyebrows raised) The old stool we used to all play on?

Nope.

(Exasperated) Well, how about you just give me that old truck and the lawnmower. That ought to be about good.

Done!

I don’t rightly know all the circumstances, but the old truck was sold off much to my broken heart. I loved that old green Ford my Papa drove when we carried out our adventures. But some short time after “my” Ford was sold; he purchased a little blue pickup.

As time wore on, my Papa slipped further away from us due to dementia. Slowly, his memories and recollections just faded away. He began to forget generations of people. All of us grandkids morphed into one of his children. By the time he arrived at the Alzheimer’s unit at the nursing home, there were only two things he remembered with certainty.

He knew that my Mama was his gal. And the second thing he remembered was he had a little blue truck. Of course, how we found out about that memory was something else. Papa (who went by Mr. Reed at the home) was being pushed down the hall by another gentleman. When asked where they were going, the other man told the nurse that they were going to take Mr. Reed’s little blue pickup for a spin.

After he passed away, Mama gave the pickup to my dad. I think he just felt wrong about it, and he turned around and gave it to me. When we drove it back from our meeting spot in Arkansas, we told Reed that the truck would be his someday. From one Reed to another.

As we know, that plan didn’t turn out as hoped. For nine years, she’s been used to haul anything too large or too messy for our other vehicles. In January, plans began to fix up that little blue truck for Sawyer. Eighteen years old and only 62,000 miles. We figured she has a few more years left in her. My parents told Mama what we were doing, and one day I got a call from her saying that she knew that Papa had to be so proud knowing that one of my boys was driving that truck.

Today as I was driving down the road to one of my kiddo’s VIA (Very Important Appointments), I heard a song that had the tears flowing down. It was the confirmation I needed to know that I really was meant to write this blog. My thoughts were tied to my heartstrings. I love it when God sends those heavenly assurances.

Take a listen below and hopefully you will see what I mean. And, in case you were wondering, the place I feel closest to my Papa is in that truck. And you better believe if “Sweet Home, Alabama” or anything Hank Williams, Sr. comes on, we crank it way up!

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Monthly Archives: March 2013

The day I had wine with Jesus

Jesus and his peeps

The thing about leprechauns

Bling it on!

Surgery No. 7

Yeah, whatever!

Where’s my Bat signal?

Life’s sweet lemons

For the love of boys and trucks