A Different View from This Old Shoe!

 

“There was an old woman who lived in a shoe. She had so many children she didn’t know what to do…” That’s how the old nursery rhyme starts, and that’s how this blog started 15 years ago.  I was that woman.  I was knee deep in ankle-biters.  My home was a cacophony of cracker-cruncher chaos.  I loved it. 

A lot has changed. We’ve lost friends and family members and gained some new ones. The kids are grown, and life is different, and still amazing.  GOD IS SO GOOD! 

I don’t think there are any more verses to that nursery rhyme, but there are lots of verses for our little corner of the world. It would sound something like this:   

So out of the house each one left as they grew.  They became young adults, as all children must do. To the Army! To college! To their work they all run! Creating their own lives, each daughter and son.

The shoe has grown quiet, with a soft empty hush. No overbooked schedules, no reason to rush. The quiet was piercing, what an awkward transition. I find myself now in a different position.

It’s just me and my spouse all alone in this shoe.  Now we go when we want, and we do what we do. We were tourists in Paris, and Pilgrims in Rome. We prayed in Assisi and then came back home.   

We love all those children and grandbabies, too. When they all come home, it’s a very full shoe. So I’ll share our adventures, (we’re having a hoot!) The “View From the Shoe” will now get a REBOOT!

  I’m hoping to share more of the amazing things God has done in our lives, and some of the things He’s taught me.  It’s important to stay teachable at every age.  I CAN NOT BELIEVE the amazing things I’ve been blessed to see and do and be a part of. (And I was THERE!)

Stay tuned and buckle up.  God writes the best stories!   

The Family Shrub

I walked out into my back yard and was met with this lovely sight.  This same Rose of Sharon once grew in the front yard of my Grandma and Grandpa Thompson's house in Steubenville Ohio. It has lots of new shoots popping up, but then, so do my grandparents, really. We're just prolific that way. That might be what got me thinking more deeply. I can see my whole family in this shrubbery.  

The first thing I see is the bloom on this beautiful Rose of Sharon (also known as a Hibiscus tree.) The bloom is large, as big as my hand, and the deep burgundy base of the petals make the white part look even whiter!  This bloom will only last a day or two (three if it's lucky) which makes this a big deal, kind of like childhood. Right now, this bloom is having the time of it's life. It's radiant and beautiful, and you can't help but smile just watching it. I love seeing the joy in those little blossoms of mine.    

Have another look at the photo.  What else do you see?  I mean, the bloom is lovely, but there's no bloom without the greenery.  Every single leaf is basking in the sun, soaking up all that warmth, and turning it into chlorophyll.  Each leaf is making the food and feeding the plant, so really, that greenery is what keeps it all together.  When the petals fall off (as petals do) that exquisite foliage remains. Just look at it!  Look what a beautiful shade of green, and those delicate scalloped edges. It surrounds the blooms, and lifts them up, and seems to be enjoying their beauty as much as the rest of us are. Just. Like Us. We, the parents and we, the aunts, uncles, cousins, and friends.  All of us make up the foliage of our families.  We feed them and nourish them, and rejoice in their blooming. We are beautiful in our own right, with our lush green scalloped edges, and in the way we stay together, working to keep each other healthy and well.  

There's one more thing I see, and it makes me a bit sad. Just above the bloom and to the left, you will see the brown seed pods. They already had their turn to bloom, and they were spectacular. Now they have a new purpose. They contain within themselves the priceless treasure of their knowledge, experience, and creativity.  They must break to share what they have nurtured within, but it's so hard to watch them become such brittle, fragile versions of who they once were. They are ready to share the means by which something old becomes new again, and they'll share their pearls of wisdom with the Earth. 

Then a new shoot will begin.   

First one small leaf, then another.  The leaves will give way to a stem which makes more leaves and more. The next "little bud" in our family is due to bloom in December. Our family keeps growing. I'm thankful for the blooming, and for the opportunity to be the foliage.  I hope when it's my turn, I break gracefully, surrounded by leaves and blooms.     

     

Sylvia's Heart

Sylvia is my 8 year old daughter. She's a girl on a mission 95% of the time!  If she's not creating some type of artwork, she's practicing back bends and cartwheels or trying to dance like a more appropriate version of a "hoochie mama".  It's hard to work your mojo when your mojo is 8 and your Mom would rather you dance like a lady.  The thing about Sylvia is that she's all heart.

Everything she does is full throttle.  I love that about her.

The other day, Sylvia came up to me with her ever-present pad of paper and asked me, "Mom, how do you start a fundraiser?"  I have to admit I was only half listening at first.  Then she said, "Mom, this is really important!" So I started really listening.  "What is this fundraiser for?"  I asked, and her answer caught me totally off-guard.

"I want to raise money so people don't have to have heart disease like you, Mom.  I think Moms should be able to play with their kids and they shouldn't have to worry about their Moms dying.  If I raise some money, they can get rid of it, right?"

She was 4 when my heart stopped.  Half of her life I have lived with heart disease.  I really didn't realize that she worries about me dying.  That's the kind of heart Sylvia has. It's full of love for me, the other moms, and all the kids who have lost their moms to heart disease.  She knows how cruel and crappy life can be when your mom's beta blockers make it hard for her to get off the couch.  She's learned to accept that sometimes Mom just can't.  It breaks my heart.  She deserves the full Mom experience, and she's willing to do the work to make a difference.

Her timing was perfect, since the school was in the final days of their "Jump Rope for Heart" campaign.  She jumps rope, people donate, and the money funds research via the American Heart Association.  It's way easier than creating her "Cartwheels for Heart" fundraiser where people pledge money per cartwheel.  I like her idea.  We'll work on it.  (She's really into cartwheels right now.)

Sylvia understands first hand what it is to live with heart disease in your family.  She's jump-roping her little self silly to try to "get rid of it".  It's very important to her heart that no one else lives in fear.  She's blessed with a heart for others.

If you'd like to support her efforts, go to  http://jumpmwa.kintera.org/sylviaswager

Live The Dream

At my house, we are living the dream!

It's not the dream where people feed you grapes while you lay on couches in Greek togas with golden leaves in your hair.

Even the "Cribs" dream of having more bathrooms than bedrooms, and a bowling alley and a movie theatre in your home seems a little unnecessary to me.

I'm talking about Dr. King's dream.  I'm specifically talking about his vision of a place and time that children can learn and play and pray together, regardless of the color of their skin, or the where their great-grandpa was from.  I'm talking about the fact that my kids care less about what color someone's skin is, and care more about what kind of person they are.  We're not perfect over here, but I believe we are living the dream.

One piece of evidence of this happened several years ago on this date.  The kids had been discussing Martin Luther King Day at school, and they came home with questions.

Them: Who is this guy?
Me: Dr. Martin Luther King.  Preacher, civil rights activist, he was shot for his beliefs.
Them: So, martyr?
Me:  I guess so, yes. He gave a very famous speech about his dream.
Them:  What was his dream about?
Me:  It was his hope for the future that people would just love each other and not judge each other by the color of their skin.
Them:  That's stupid.
Me: WHAT?!?!?!
Them: That's stupid!  Why would someone think someone was less or more important because of the color of their skin? That's just stupid!
Me: (Calming down.) Agreed.  But there was a time when black and white people weren't allowed to go to the same school or church or even bathrooms.
Them:  What!?! That's Stupid!  What difference does it make?

This is when I run out of answers for them, because I don't know.  I don't have all the answers for why  people feel that way.  I don't know why history was like that.  I don't agree with that way of looking at people.  Then the kids really got incensed.  They stopped thinking of color and started naming names.

We went to Cincinnati a few years ago and visited the Underground Railroad Museum.  It was awesome and I highly recommend it.  I watched my kids learn the history of former slaves and free people working together to liberate those born and sold into slavery.  As every cruel act was described, at every horrible disrespectful word they would look at me and ask "Why?"  It was the same response when we got to sit on Rosa Parks' bus.  Why?

Stay innocent, my children.  Don't look for reasons to separate and hate and disrespect.  Don't hate people.  The dream is that Love Rules!  Live the Dream!  Love One Another!  


www.freedomcenter.org

Closer than they Appear

My friend told me to think of your life like a car driving at night.  "You can't see any further ahead than your headlights."

This totally rubbed me the wrong way, since I am incredibly GIFTED at worrying about the things to come.  Not that I worry for no good reason, I am a sensible worrier.  I mean, I don't worry about the whole Mayan Apocolypse, or Zombies or anything senseless like that.

However, I was given the most incredible blessing of being the mother of 7 great kids. Hence the worrying.

Some of this worry is indeed, beyond the scope of my headlights.  I can't do much for my children when they are grown or when we are apart from each other.  I can't make my grown kids brush their teeth. (I trust Jordan's wife makes him do that now.)I can't make them change their socks.  I can't make them make good choices.  Sometimes, for no really good reason, they will cheer for the wrong football team.  (Sometimes that team will even win a game, which STILL does not make it appropriate to say "Roll Tide" at the dinner table.) I can't make the girls actually sleep when they have a sleepover at Aunt Chris's house, or Aunt Jenni's. I can't keep them from trying a drink or a joint.  I can encourage them in the right direction, but the decision is ultimately theirs. (And, kids, if you're reading this, KNOW that I will find out and that you WILL NOT like the consequences!)

What worries me is that I can't keep them from harm.

Before they lived in Alabama or Kentucky or Louisiana, or even Michigan, they lived in my heart (and places south of that) and that makes my kids like the objects in my side mirror:  CLOSER THAN THEY APPEAR. At the moment, I have children in three states.  In the next few months, I will have children in three different countries. No matter where they are, they are always in my heart first.

When my sons deploy, I will worry.

I will also remind myself that they are closer than they appear.  I hope they will remember that I am closer than I seem also. It's hard to cuddle with half of a DNA strand, but just know I'm there, and not just me.

Our Creator is closer than he appears also.  The one who loves us most.  The one who can see beyond the headlights.  The one who tells us that we can't change a single hair on our heads by worrying.  

Alright.  So I guess I'll just be happy with what I can see right now, knowing that Love is much MUCH closer than it appears.