Done ... Again

Finals are behind me. I wonder how many times I have said that? After all, I realize I am now in my ninth year of college. Hmmm.

This time, though, all that looms before me is an eight-hour comprehensive exam in May. Once I pass that, I begin the dissertation process.

I remember thinking a couple of different times during this program that I just wouldn’t make it. Sometimes I would sit down to write a 20+-page paper and contemplate becoming a drop out. (Just being honest.) Always, I continued on. My grades proved me wrong; I am capable.

For quite some time, a list of homework loomed before me. I completed project after project. I wrote paper after paper. Suddenly, I won’t have to think about homework.

I’ll miss parts of it. Not the tedious papers. But when you spend two and a half years with the same people, you begin to become close to them. Friends join in misery, after all.

My friend Mike agreed. In his most recent blog he noted, “While some assignments were daunting, some classes a waste of time, and some administrative changes a violation of rights; I know that all those experiences will soon be forgotten. Thoughts of the challenges associated with coursework will be replaced with the memories of evenings talking, laughing, giving and receiving encouragement, and celebrating with other members of the cohort. You’d be hard-pressed to find a member of the class who will not admit to learning more from the ‘students’ than the course itself.” (I use his comment without asking for his permission and after taking a law course that focused greatly on copyrights. Hmmm. Guess I’ll just use those press rights of saying that I quoted him and it will all be okay.)

I, too, will enjoy more time with my family, more opportunities to expend effort on less mind-straining activities. I guess I can go back to quilting, or fiddling, or possibly even spend more time with my ATV in the mud. Those new wheels and tires shouldn’t just be on there for the pretty factor. They need to be challenged. I think the boys will choose the last option, although they may find humor in my fiddling capabilities or lack thereof.

Yet, to think the work is done would be a moment of insanity. An eight-hour essay exam is something that will require much effort in the months preceding it. I must study as I never have before. The research that follows will be enjoyable, though the writing of a dissertation will be yet another challenge. I actually look forward to that part. (Remind me of this when I complain about it a year from now.)

In the meantime, I will celebrate this holiday season thrilled that I don’t have homework waiting to be done, and glad that I have made so many wonderful friends in the last two and a half years. They will be a blessing to me for many years to come.

The Value of Giving

Creed asked for money the other day to buy some Christmas gifts at the elementary school’s holiday store. So, I gave him some. On the list, I marked a few names of people for whom he should buy gifts. Most importantly, his younger brother.

I also wrote a limit on the note as to how much he could spend on himself. The reason was simple: the idea is to buy gifts for other people and to experience the joy of giving, not to just buy for oneself. Even the note from the school mentioned the value of learning to give to others.

He came home that night with a trash bag of presents. Sure a few were for him, but that isn’t what excited him. He made fine purchases for his little brother, including a Batman figurine, balls, etc.

Creed far exceeded his list of people. His bag of presents included some for his cousins Stacey, Matthew, Jeremy and Aaron; his Aunt Kim and Uncle Bob; and several grandparents.

What impressed me most is the amount of effort he put into picking out presents. For Kim, as an example, Creed chose a Spiderman punching bag. After all, Kim spends a lot of time working out and walking these days. Creed thought she’d find this useful and fun. He choose a big, orange puffer worm for Uncle Bob since he believed that his great uncle liked orange.

He bought a new oven mitt and some dish towels for Mamaw Bobby. She definitely needed some. On the night that we stopped by her house, she pulled cookies out of the oven by grabbing the rack with a wooden ruler and using a dish rag. Probably not the safest choice. Creed smiled as his grandmother opened her gift and even used it a few moments later.

I don’t know all of the gifts he chose. Several went to his dad’s house. Others remain unopened as we haven’t seen those folks yet. What I do know is the value of the lesson. “This made my Christmas,” his Aunt Kim told him.

Why did he decide to buy them a gift? Because he saw something that made him think about them. It didn’t have to be an expensive purchase, it just required special attention.

A few days later, Creed asked for money to buy himself another pack of marbles at the holiday store. He said they only cost $1.00. So, I gave him $1.00. He looked quite distraught. After a few minutes, I asked him why he wasn’t happy since he would be able to get the marbles he wanted. His response? “Because I’ll only be able to buy something for myself and I can’t get Heath anything.”

That was enough for me. Sure, he was given more money to buy some extra gifts. He again made wonderful purchases showing much thought. Heath didn’t mind as he definitely benefitted from the experience.

While Creed did gain a bit of material items, he also learned the value of giving.

THANKFUL

Todd came into my life at a most unexpected time. He taught me how to have fun, gave me reasons to laugh, and showed me how to love unconditionally. For that, I am thankful.

Heath and Creed are blessings every day. That certainly doesn’t mean they are perfect. Luckily, none of us are. My boys are just that, boys. They are adventurous, spirited, curious, even a bit temperamental at times. At the same time they are caring, sweet, even cool. Just ask them about the latter. It is true that everything changes when one becomes a parent. I’m just thankful to have the experience and to be able to watch them grow and learn.

Aunts, uncles, cousins, nieces, nephews, mothers, fathers, grandparents ... you know that old saying that you can’t choose your family? True, but we can learn to be accepting of one another and learn to appreciate our differences. Most of us refuse to admit that while we greatly enjoy our friends, the majority of friends change throughout the course of our lives. If your best friend from kindergarten is still your best friend 30 years later, that is rare. Friends may come and go, but family usually remains. Who was there when you went through that hard time not so long ago? Who will be there the next time one arises? Who is just a phone call away? Those people will give you a reason to be thankful.

Noodles have traditionally been my favorite food. The best kind are what I dubbed many years ago to be “funeral” noodles. Expect them to be homemade (or at least those really good frozen ones), and expect them to be comforting. Why else would they be served at times when families gather together in sorrow?

Knowing what it is to be blessed is a wonderful acknowledgment. I’ve learned a lot of man’s knowledge over the years. After my finals in a few weeks, I’ll only have comprehensive exams and a dissertation to do before I attain my doctorate in higher education. I say only as if that isn’t a lot of work still set before me. Yes, it is, but it also brings me to the point where the instruction that I need for now has been taught. The rest of my learning is up to me. I will now be able to guide my path. To be able to leave behind me homework assignments, required readings, quizzes, exams, and finals will be a blessing for sure.

Forgiving is one of the most difficult things we sometimes have to do, but it can also be the most rejuvenating and inspiring. If you feel like someone has done you wrong, you’re not alone. Actually, most everyone feels that way from time to time. We all get hurt; sometimes we are even the ones who hurt others either knowingly or unknowingly. I try to teach my sons how important forgiveness is when their play with one another exceeds the safe point and becomes rough. With my little wanna be wrestlers, ninjas, and X-men, undoubtedly someone eventually begins to cry. And while they get angry at each other more than anyone else, they are able to learn to forgive and go for another round later in the day. Wouldn’t it be nice if we could all forgive so easily? I’m thankful for the example they set.

Understanding is a complex characteristic or quality. It is so multi-faceted. In life we all have a portion of understanding, but it is not like mashed potatoes and gravy where a bigger serving at the dinner table makes one more full. Understanding is gained year after year; so I guess each Thanksgiving meal one eats adds to their understanding and wisdom about life, about people, about relationships ... I’m thankful for that which I have gained and anxious for that which I can still glean.

Laughter is the best medicine ... I have heard it said so many times. It reminds me of that song from “Mary Poppins” about loving to laugh. As that example so clearly illustrated, laughter lifts you up, it lightens moods, it enhances feelings. Sometimes, it even makes your cheeks and belly hurt. I am so thankful for that kind of laughter.

Those are my reasons to be THANKFUL this holiday season. What are yours?

The Rabbit Plea

It is definitely not the best time of year to be a turkey. Yet, in my home, I eat turkey almost daily either for a lunch treat or on a bagel for breakfast. So as the season of thankfulness approaches, I will note my thankfulness for the bird so celebrated at this time of year.

I asked my boys about Thanksgiving this year. Creed is more than willing to draw turkey after turkey to decorate for the upcoming dinner. And when he expels his list of gratefulness, my six year old is already acting very politically correct. He is thankful for his family, his friends, and all that he has. I am glad to hear that.

Heath has a different agenda. He uses his Thanksgiving list as a manipulation technique.

“I’m thankful for you to get me a rabbit,” he told me this morning.

He included his four-wheeler, the opportunity to sit on the new lawn mower, a chance to play in the woods, and the ability to throw sticks into the creek as the remainder of his gratefulness.

Then, he went back to this rabbit. We have never talked about rabbits before. But, since he had put the subject into the limelight, the discussion could ensue.

He told me he had never really been around rabbits much, but he had seen one on Winnie the Pooh. Of course, he doesn’t expect his rabbit to have a garden since it will most likely live in a cage.

And Heath believes it will be okay that his rabbit just has a cage life because he will play with it from time to time.

“And at night, when it is time to sleep, I will protect him so he doesn’t get scared,” he continued.

Funny ... he does know what to say to manipulate his mother.

“And I will feed him carrots and lettuce and maybe grass, and what else do rabbits like? They like water.”

In his lengthy plea, he noted that this rabbit will be named Starfire. Although a female super hero has that name, his rabbit will be a boy and it won’t have any powers, it will just possess an ability to eat many vegetables without complaining.

“And he’ll have fun playing with me,” Heath concluded.

He felt confident that he had made a good argument for a rabbit, so he ended with, “Will you pick Starfire up for me tonight?”

I convinced him that Easter is a better time of year to get pets like rabbits, not really at Thanksgiving time as it will have to be outside in the cold all winter. I think it worked. I guess I’ll know tomorrow if he asks about Starfire again.

My boys are a joy. They certainly give me a reason to be thankful all year long.

The New Vest

Creed had one request when it came time for school pictures this year. “Please, Mom, don’t make me wear a sweater vest. They just aren’t cool.”

Okay, so last year I dressed him in a sweater vest. He looked adorable. He didn’t mind.

This year I told him not to worry ... one sweater vest picture was enough.

Yet, he was curious to know when his younger brother would be required to have his sweater vest picture taken. After all, if he has one then his brother should as well.

Sounds reasonable ... but this wasn’t Heath’s year either. He didn’t seem to be in a sweater vest mood either.

As for their mother, I have two — both are black and one has a hoodie on it. It is definitely my favorite.

The boys are more argyle in nature.

When I walked into class the other day, I noticed a male student of twenty-something age wearing a sweater vest. The other males in the class admit they won’t don the apparel, but admitted that their classmate, Micah, seemed to be “pulling it off.” His response, “Every day is better when you wear a sweater vest.”

For him, it is a boost of confidence, a symbol of power and prestige.

As I looked over Mountaineer Field at Milan Puskar stadium Saturday, a sweater vest caught my eye amidst the sea of blue and gold. It was worn by none other than Bill Stewart. I sent a text message to my friend, Kristen, on the other side of the stadium pointing out the vest. She said he obviously wasn’t owning it. After all, when one dons a sweater vest and truly owns it, then it is a good day. So says Micah.

For the Mountaineers, I worried. The game seemed to lack some of the pizzazz I expected.

Finally, though, the sweater vest attitude sacked in as Stewart was finally able to direct his players to perform (or at least slide by) to grasp a win. No one will want to write home about the game ... unless it is to comment on the sweater vest.

I noticed another sweater vest worn in church on Sunday. It wasn’t the first time I had seen Steve Lewis choosing this layer of clothing. He admitted to owning several. And, yes, he did find that it makes his day better.

Hmmm.

Apparently, sweater vests are making a comeback. I read on a fashion website that one of the most popular layering pieces this fall will be the vest. “Sweater vests should no longer be associated with something your grandpa would wear, because this fall they will be everywhere, in all shapes, lengths, colors, and patterns. With so many options available, it gets confusing to pick out the perfect items to pair with your vest,” the fashion diva noted.

Creed disagrees. His days are definitely better when he wears a “cool” shirt. His definition of “cool” would rather include Wolverine or Spiderman than argyle.

Maybe Creed will someday come to terms with the sweater vest as his classmates begin to wear them. Until then I might leave an empty space in his closet as a memorial to the sweater vest — that which transcends time and age and makes every day better.

Pot Luck

It’s one of those days when many thoughts are circling in my head. It could be good.

At dinner last night I fixed spaghetti and meatballs. Despite what anyone in my household claims to be their favorite meal, I guarantee that spaghetti and meatballs is the most successful meal ever served at our home. No one complains. Everyone eats ... and they eat a lot.

Creed will say pizza is his favorite; Heath will claim chicken and fries. But, none of those are accepted with the same dinner table quietness. Isn’t that when you know a meal is good? When everyone is just focused on eating and not on other noises?

Eating at home ... unless you count Naomi’s dinner table or the meals my grandma used to make ... is usually the same for everyone gathered. It isn’t like going to a restaurant where all diners order their own dishes. The only time that differs is pot luck night.

Pot luck – it’s when a few days of leftovers are brought out and family members pick and choose which ones they want. I remember these on occasion when growing up. I guess that means we usually ate all the food to avoid leftovers or the remaining morsels were fed to the family dog. In my household today I eat the most leftovers, often having them for lunch the next day.

Sometimes, though, we do join together for bits of this and that. The boys are usually excited as everyone gets to “order” what they want for dinner.

I think that is what makes pot luck successful. It is the option to choose. We, as a society, seem to like choices. Look at a cereal aisle in a supermarket and know that choices are bountiful.

Here’s a thought ... what if we considered life to be a pot luck dinner? We don’t like everything that is set before us, but we do like parts of it. Why don’t we take the good and combine it together? Isn’t that what we try to do anyway? Isn’t that why you forgive your loved ones’ little flaws and embrace their greater good?

It makes me think about what I bring to the table. For the perfect pot luck meal, what will people choose out of my characteristics? It won’t be my patience. While some things push me for a while, the most miniature seem to trip me and make me fall flat on my face. I am reminded of this every morning as we try to get ready to leave the house.

We can all pick out our shortcomings, our weaknesses, the areas we want to improve. I heard on the radio this morning that we are all full of guilt. We can always pick out what is wrong with us and place blame on ourselves for it. After all, that is easy.

So, challenge yourself. Find your strengths. (I’m calling a search party for mine.) Then, celebrate them; bring them to the table and you’ll have one of the most amazing pot luck dinners ever.

Making Sense

It all makes sense now.

I used to love the cartoon Family Circle, especially the strips where the little boy would have trouble finding his way home and would wander all over the neighborhood. Sometimes it would take him half a day to take the trash out because of all the interesting things he found along the way, the distractions that stopped him, or the places he decided to travel. I traced every stop with my finger, traveling with him on his journey.

His poor mother. I never considered her. Now, I do.

I always thought of myself as the wanderer. I, too, was intrigued by so many obstacles. I became distracted, at times. It’s part of being a child, right?

As an adult, I wonder what happened next in the penned world of Family Circle. These are the parts of the family’s life that weren’t inked for us. Did this young child get into trouble? Was his mother worried about him when it took forever to complete a difficult task? Did she become angry or did she just encourage his adventurous spirit?

You see, I face this situation today on the other side of the comic strip. I now see my own boys wandering around, taking the longest paths possible, to complete a simple task.

Sometimes, I want to scold them for taking so long. But, do I? Other times, I want to laugh at them. And, on occasion, I want to go with them. It’s one of those parenthood dilemmas.

On Sunday after we left church, the boys were walking toward the car. I was near enough to make sure no traffic or strangers would bother them, so I let them wander just a bit. Heath began to veer into a nearby cemetery.

I cautioned him not to walk on graves ... everyone has been instructed to respect a graveyard, right? It may be all of the talk of the Halloween and the never-ending episodes of Scooby Doo that are encouraging him to venture into such territory.

I have never been one to deal well with scary situations. As a child I used to play in a cemetery with some friends in Gilmer County. Until ... that day my sister, four years my elder, jumped up from behind a grave and frightened me beyond repair. I ran out of that graveyard, forgetting that we had to duck under barbed wire to get into the spooky location.

As you can imagine, I didn’t duck. My face hit the barbed wire. It stuck in my lip. The force plunged me onto my back, hitting a rock and knocking the breath out of me.

Unfortunately, that meant a new tetanus shot for me.

But, for a moment, I think it scared my sister. She probably thought I was dead while I laid there, eyes closed, lifeless. She’ll never admit it, though.

I don’t find myself wandering in graveyards anymore, unless I am there to leave flowers or to find an ancestor. I’m not a regular graveyard prowler. I don’t believe in ghosts, but I don’t want to give my imagination the chance to wander as my feet once did. I can’t even watch scary movies and then sleep well at night. I never have been able to do so. “The Lost Boys,” which is rather calm compared to today’s standards, gave me nightmares for two weeks. It took me about two months to get over “Flowers In the Attic.” Honestly, that movie still bothers me and I watched it about 18 years ago.

Even though I know it is fake, my mind won’t rest at the times that I can’t control it – in sleep.

My children helped me figure out the paradox of Family Circle. I’ll wait to see if, in time, they help me understand the overactive, spooktacular side of my imagination. Until then, I’ll stick with Scooby Doo instead of "Saw."

When You Least Expect It

When you least expect it, someone comes to your assistance. Even the worst moments can become better when an unexpected person does just the right thing at the right time.

I thought about his as I read a story about a third-grade classroom. From time to time I must share news I find on the Internet. No validity for its presence exists. What I do know, though, is that it causes one to stop and think. And for me, it was the right lesson at the right time.

A nine-year-old boy was sitting at his desk. His feet and the front of his pants were wet. It was an accident. He didn’t even realize it until it was too late.

What is he going to do? If he stands up, no one will ever forget this moment. He
isn’t in preschool anymore. This cannot be an okay thing to do. The boys will pick on him forever; the girls will never speak to him again.

This moment in third grade could haunt him all throughout his school-age years, maybe even beyond.

He sits quietly, wishing his heart would stop. He puts his head down and prays. It is an emergency. He needs help from above.

He suspects the teacher knows. She is headed in his direction. How can this go well?

Just then, Susie, a classmate of his, stand up and gets the fishbowl. It is full of water. She walks near the young boy and spills it down the front of him. She claims she tripped.

The boys acts upset, but is thanking Susie and God the entire time.

He has become the subject of sympathy, not ridicule. The teacher helps him clean up and allows him to change into gym shorts while his pants dry.

No one knows of his situation. An accident made it all better.

But, was it really an accident?

While the boy isn’t ridiculed, Susie is. Her classmates call her a clumsy. They ask why she even bothered the fish bowl.

She laughs it off. After all, being clumsy isn’t so bad.

As the day nears an end, the boy walks over to Susie. He whispers to ask her if she spilled the water on purpose. She whispers back that she wet her pants once too. She knew the ridicule.

No one else saw it. Only Susie. She didn’t use this opportunity to make a mockery of someone else. Instead, she helped them. She knew what was like to be in a similar situation.

May we see the opportunities around us when we least expect it. And, hopefully, we have the nerve to do good — just as Susie did.

Kilts, Khaki and Kazaam!

A few months ago, someone sent me one of those word challenges. Fill in this list with words that start with K. No problem, right?

But then the task became more perplexing.

First, a four-letter word. I chose kite.

Some of my favorite movie memories are from Mary Poppins and I can certainly remember the last scene of the movie when the family — now functioning in more unison — fun off to fly kites in the park while she is left to wipe a tear and fly away on her umbrella. I think I cried.

A vehicle. At the moment, I chose Kawasaki. Technically, that is an ATV. In later consideration, I might choose Kia. Kawasaki has little meaning for me. I prefer Suzuki in the ATV world, at the advice of my puddle jumper riding partner.

For a city, I chose Keyser. That is a city with its own distinct smell (from the pulp or paper factory). For me, it is a place where I have spent countless hours listening to lectures as I pursue my doctorate degree.

As an occupation, kickboxer. My dad was a Chuck Norris fan, and I still watch “Walker, Texas Ranger” reruns.

Something you wear: kilt. Hey, it’s all I could think of. Picture it ¬— Jeff and Mike waltzing the countryside of Scotland with bagpipes in their kilts.

Food: kale or ketchup. Yes, ketchup should be a food because this condiment is eaten more than kale ever will be. I remember the smell of that leafy green vegetable when my mother would fix it and never seemed to enticing to my olfactory senses.

In a bathroom, I have a knob for a door. I probably have a few knick knacks in there as well. However, the knob is much more important.

Something you shout: “Kazaam!” That would probably be my response to my kilt-wearing friends.

Animal: kangaroo. A cartoon movie that my boys love to watch is “Kangaroo Jack.” They especially love the part where Jack the kangaroo is fighting in the heavy weight competition and a rapping lyrical piece keeps resonating throughout it “I’m goin’ knock you out ... momma said knock you out.” They love to shout it to one another and pretend to box.

A reason for being late: knocked out. Wait, me late? Doesn’t even make sense!

Body part: knee. For some reason, it took me several minutes of thought and a mental body tour to actually remember something that starts with a “k.”

For a color, khaki.

Word to describe yourself: I started with “keynote” and then laughed at my choice. Sure, we all aspire to that point and my life certainly does seem like a story worth telling at times, but probably not to that engaging or motivating of a situation. Instead, I’ll choose “keen,” at least I strive for it. I also like “kempt” because I prefer my house remain that way. Of course, my boys are six and four — doesn’t always happen!

Gaining Much

Some evenings are a little more eventful than others. Last night was one of those. I had a million things cross my mind that I should be doing.

I needed to finish peeling apples to freeze. I needed to fold laundry. I had a stack of papers to grade. I had a pile of homework to do.

I did none of it.

Instead, I spent time drawing on the driveway making chalk figures with my boys. We cleaned an area around the tree where they like to play in the front yard. They had a bit of a water hose fight. And we even rode the four wheeler for a few minutes.

Through it all, though, the boys had some listening issues. Some days are like that ... no one wants to do what is requested of them on the first request.

I’ll admit that it is frustrating for a parent when doing all that one can, to have children who don’t realize the benefits and blessings so abundant to them. It becomes a task of mine to make sure they realize and are grateful, not just expectant of luxuries.

As I tucked them into bed that night, we prayed. Normally, I say the words. This night, I asked them to do it.

Creed started. He asked God to heal ailments on him and friends. He thanked God for people he loved. And then, the best part was that he asked God to help him be better. And when I told him he did a wonderful job, he looked at me and said, "I know I wasn’t very good today. I’m sorry. I’ll be better tomorrow."

I was almost at a lost for words. Maybe something is sinking in. Maybe my children are understanding what I try to teach them day after day. Either way, I felt blessed.

Heath also said his prayers that night. Just to know that at age four and six my boys understand they can have a conversation with God is very pleasing.

I finished that evening in what some would view as behind. My laundry, papers and homework still loomed. But, in reality, I had gained so much during the day.

TNT Dynamite

Todd agreed to share his good times and bad times with me. He agreed to stay with me forever, and to cherish and love me at all times — even in those moments when I can be a bit irritating. On Saturday, he gave me his name.

I guess this makes it official. We celebrated the day with a few family and friends.

He’s said for a long time that he couldn’t wait until we could be “TNT, dynamite.” For that reason, as soon as the preacher made the announcement (and minus a few technical difficulties), the AC/DC song rang out.

Other songs played that day, however, are a bit more symbolic of our relationship.

I walked in to the tune by the Zac Brown Band “Whatever It Is.”

With lyrics such as: “She got a gentle way that puts me at ease.”

The song explains that whatever it is, he can’t live without it. For years I wondered if anyone could find anything special about me. Todd does. He sees it every day and he reminds me of such.

“She’s got whatever it is. It blows me away. She’s everything I wanted to say to a woman but couldn’t find the words to say. She’s got whatever it is. I don’t know what to do because every time I try and tell her how I feel it comes out ‘I love you.’”

He sings the song to me all the time, noting that something changed when I walked into his life. “People ask me what it is, I tell them I don’t know. Just something about the woman makes my heart go haywire. She’s gonna be my wife.”

A dear friend also lent his guitar abilities and musical talent to the ceremony, performing “Making Memories of Us” as it began. It’s always been a favorite of mine as it talks about being a person of his/her word. And it shares how the sweetest part of love is making memories together.

After the vows, and during the greetings of the receiving line, we couldn’t resist and had to add in the Montgomery Gentry tune “What Do You Think About That?” Why? Just because our relationship seems to have been such a source of discussion for so many people. Funny. Why do others even care? It’s not them. But, in honor of all those times others have made our business their own, we tipped our hats with these words:

“Some people care about what other people think, worry about what they say. Let a little gossip coming from a loose lip ruin a perfect day, say, blah, blah, blah, just a jacking their jaws, got a let it roll off-a my back. I don’t give a dern what other people think. What do ya think about that?”

Of course, leaving it on that note wouldn’t be appropriate. I shared my favorite song to illustrate our relationship together.

“I wanna thank you for the love that you give me, and the sun that you put in my sky. You don’t know how much you’ve lifted me up, but I feel so alive that I could fly. There’s no way I could’ve made it this far without you.

You came to me just when I needed someone to believe that I could make it through. And you gave me back the love I had, the faith I’d lost, the life I knew.”

And, finally, we played a bit of “God’s Been Good To Me.”

And, He certainly has.

A Carefree Evening

I lost a shoe the other night. It was one of those moments that completely confused me.

Four of my friends decided to carpool with me to a celebration event. Three piled in the back seat, Todd took on the chauffeur role, and the other climbed in beside me in the front seat. Five women, one truck. Todd is a brave man.

I took my flip flops off when I got into the truck. When we arrived at our destination, I found one and put it back on. The other was gone. Three of us searched the truck. No shoe!

My only thought was that it had fallen out at our meeting spot. Hours passed, and as we left in the brisk night air, another of my friends walked barefoot with me to the truck. Not only was it a nice gesture, but she was just too tired at this point to actually walk in her heels.

Actually, they all agreed to walk with just one shoe when we arrived — just to make me feel more comfortable. That’s a bunch of good friends, sacrificing to make others feel okay with their problems.

We had a girl’s night out. Todd only dropped us off and picked us up. It was so needed. I can’t remember the last time I just decided to forget about all of the things that are waiting for me to do. It seems as soon as one task is complete that another is looming. Sometimes it feels as if it is yelling, “What about me .... did you forget about me ... when will you finish?”

It’s like laundry. Almost as soon as you take the empty baskets back after spending hours washing, drying, folding, and putting away; dirty clothes are already waiting.

It’s like dishes. As soon as you finish and walk away, you can almost certainly return to a few dirty ones in the sink (put there by no one knows who) or you’ll find some left in another room (again, by no one knows who).

Dusting is another one of those areas. I think dust just floats in the air and lands back in the same spot as soon as the rag leaves it.

But it isn’t just household chores. Work, school — it’s all the same. Finish a project, another is waiting. Whatever happened to a break!

Usually, I only experience these moments of not worrying about things when barreling though mud holes in the woods on a four-wheeler. This was a completely different experience (and produced much less dirty clothes).

About 15 of my girlfriends gathered at a friend’s house. We talked. We laughed. We played games. We had fun. Even in a shoeless state, it didn’t matter. Thank God for those moments of good friends and good times.

As for the shoe, I found it when we returned to their vehicles. As my friends climbed back into their cars for drives home, I found my flip flop upside down on the blacktop — just where it fell out of the truck. No harm done. I had to laugh.

Maybe tonight when I finish that pile of dishes I left in the sink, and begin to fold all of the laundry that I washed and dried (but never finished), I’ll just wear one shoe in memory of a carefree evening.