Year: 2007

  • Timing is everything

    Last Wednesday night was the season finale of Friday Night Lights. I believe I may have mentioned this before, but Friday Night Lights is the best show on television. Honestly. And if you’ve missed it, then look for the reruns this summer and start watching. Please.

    Because if it gets cancelled, I will fall into a pit of despair and depression.

    Anyway, I was watching the season finale last Wednesday, and Coach Taylor’s wife found out she was pregnant. The nurse asked her, “Honey, do you want this baby?” and she said, “I prayed for this baby 12 years ago and then 11 years ago and then 10 years ago, and finally realized that God must have other plans”. The nurse looked her right in the eye and said, “Well honey, it looks like God changed His mind.”

    And I started crying.

    I started crying because I know how it feels to pray and to get an answer. I know how it feels to hope that God changes His mind. And the irony is, while I was watching that show, I had no idea what God was about to do.

    Let me say before y’all get all excited that I am not pregnant. But I do have some news.

    When Caroline was born, I was blessed to work for a company that gave me 6 months of maternity leave. That’s right. 6 months. But when that 6 months was up, I didn’t want to go back to work. I wanted to be home with my baby girl and I cried and bargained and prayed that God would allow that to happen.

    And it didn’t.

    I didn’t understand, but at the same time realized that I was blessed to have a job with flexibility and a husband who works from home so that we were able to juggle our schedules and make sure one of us was always with Caroline. We made it work and, in all honesty, I had days where I was relieved to be able to leave the house and go eat lunch at a restaurant that didn’t require me to take off my shoes before walking into the Playplace.

    We adjusted. I accepted that this was what God had for me and I was okay with it, but in my heart my prayer remained the same.

    Some of y’all may remember that back in February I had some things come up with my job regarding false accusations. If not, you can read about it here. I had to fly to Dallas for a big, scary meeting. Everything got cleared up, but my manager called me just this past Friday and told me that now they were looking at some other things and it would require another scary meeting, another trip to Dallas. The weird thing was that as she talked, I was perfectly calm.

    Anyone who reads my posts on a regular basis knows how remarkable that statement is. I remained calm.

    In fact, I remained so calm I wondered if I was having some kind of breakdown that was causing me to not properly compute information.

    P got home and we talked about it. He asked me if I thought this was God’s way of pushing me to take a step of faith and resign from my job. He put into words exactly what I was feeling. I knew it was time to walk away.

    When I think back to everything that has happened in our lives since the initial meeting in February, I am overwhelmed at how God has prepared the way for this next step. I found a great way for us to get affordable health insurance, P won the bid on a huge job providing extra income, and I am in the middle of working on some exciting things that I can’t talk about in detail quite yet.

    It’s all come together in the right way, at the right time.

    Friday night, P and I sat and talked about everything and couldn’t believe how at peace we feel with this decision. I cannot even convey how awed I am by God’s faithfulness and timing. If I had been able to stay at home 3 years ago, I wouldn’t have worked as hard to figure out what I’m passionate about. I know myself well enough to know that I need something that is mine, something I care about, and blogging has really helped me find it.

    Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like everything is just perfect. One of the biggest perks of my job is a company car with insurance and gas, and that’s going away. The good news is that Gulley’s backseat can hold three carseats, so we’re going to be carpooling to the grocery store for awhile, which will basically take us back to our years in college when Gulley chauffered me around in her Pontiac Sunbird because my Honda CRX had doors that would no longer open from the inside.

    There are only so many times you can climb in and out of your car like one of the Duke boys before you start looking for a better mode of transportation.

    Anyway, with summer right around the corner, Caroline and I will spend most of our waking hours at the neighborhood pool which is within walking distance, and let’s be honest, is there a better motivator to spend some time walking than knowing you’re going to be wearing a bathing suit every day?

    The thing is there are still some obstacles. P’s business is seasonal, so we’re going to have to figure out how to budget wisely. We’re praying about the car thing, because while I can do without for awhile, the reality is that at some point I’m going to need a car. In spite of figuring these things out, I am so overwhelmed at God’s perfect timing and provision. And even more than that, with the peace He has put in my heart that He will provide for us. He is faithful.

    And I’m forever grateful that He changed His mind. I can’t wait to see where we go from here.

    Plus, saving money at the grocery store will be no problem, seeing as how we have 600 pounds of elk meat in our deep freeze. I thought I was kidding about elk kabobs, sloppy elk joes, and elk tenders, but God knew we were going to be eating a lot of elk.

    “Lord you have assigned me my portion and my cup; you have made my lot secure. The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; surely I have a delightful inheritance. I will praise the Lord, who counsels me; even at night my heart instructs me. I have set the Lord always before me. Because he is at my right hand, I will not be shaken.”
    Psalm 16:5-8

  • A moment in time

    This morning, Caroline needed me to open something for her and I had to get out my scissors. She looked at me and said, “Oh Mama! I can’t wait to be big like you and use those sharp, sharp scissors!”

    And I said, “Are you really going to get big? Can’t you just stay little?”

    She said, “No, no I can NOT. But don’t worry, I’ll always be your baby.”

    Which caused me to pick her up and squeeze her tight as my heart exploded into a million pieces.

  • For Heather

    Today is for Heather. For those of y’all who may not know, you can read Heather’s story here and here. I cannot even imagine what she and her family are going through right now, but I know that I am inspired by her faith. I have to say that when I read her post last week, it made me wonder how much one person, one family can bear. You can read about their daughter, Emma, here.

    Boomama is helping raise money starting at midnight tonight, April 18th, for the expenses that Heather will incur as they search for treatment options. Head on over to Boomama’s to see how you can help. If you can contribute financially that’s great, but most importantly Heather needs our prayers.

    Y’all have a great day.

  • What about prom, Blaine?

    I mentioned in my last post that Gulley and I spent all day shopping on Saturday. What I didn’t mention is that after a long day of trying on clothes, laughing, talking and drinking Mocha Frappuccinos (because we’re sophisticated now, y’all! No more Big Gulps for us), we went to one of our favorite Italian restaurants to drink a little wine and eat some dinner.

    But mainly to drink a little wine.

    Then, as if a day of shopping with your best friend isn’t enough, God bestowed upon us the most perfect blessing. Sitting at the table next to us in the restaurant was a whole pack of high school kids on their way to the prom.

    We clapped our hands and laughed out loud at our incredibly good fortune and said a prayer of gratitude that we hadn’t decided on Mexican food instead.

    Gulley kept talking about how young they looked and finally decided that she thought they must be in junior high, not high school. I had to point out the boy on the end and ask how many boys in her 7th grade class had sideburns that looked like that? And she realized that yes, they did indeed look very young, but it’s because we are so very old.

    However, one of the girls had braces just like mine, which really bolstered my self esteem.

    As various members of the prom group arrived, we sat back and enjoyed the squealing and the hugging and the whispering because after all, we realized they probably hadn’t seen each other in like two hours and omigosh there was so much to catch up on and they all LYLAS and are BFF. We also agreed that there isn’t enough cash money in all of the world to make us go back to high school.

    The best part, which makes me wish that I could have done a live audio blog, was when we took our own trip down prom memory lane and discussed our fashion choices and our dates.

    Apparently, Gulley’s sophomore year in high school, fate smiled on her and she was able to borrow a peach lame’ number from a friend. She said she knew she had never looked as fine as she did in that peach lame’ dress with the spaghetti straps and huge rosette on the side holding the fabric as it gathered. After all, what says class and elegance and 1986 like peach lame’? Especially if you’ve had your hair styled to look like Lisa Lisa and the Cult Jam.

    I told her the story of my prom heartbreak, which happened my sophomore year in high school. I had been dating the same boy, who was a senior, all throughout the school year and had already bought my prom dress. Sadly, he broke up with me two weeks before the prom. And before y’all feel too bad for me, let me clarify that it was because I kissed another boy.

    It was a scandal of the epic, dramatic proportions that can only be achieved by teenagers who have watched Pretty in Pink and The Breakfast Club way too many times.

    In my defense, this other boy and I had been asked to serve as chaperones for a 7th grade dance, because that’s who you really want watching your 12 year olds dance…a couple of mature and brilliant 15 year olds, and I guess we got carried away while dancing as Madonna sang “Crazy for You”. Due to my strong 15 year old character, I was ready to take the kiss to my grave, but he felt guilty, confessed to his girlfriend and we all ended up breaking up over it.

    That Madonna has always been bad news.

    Anyway, I was stuck with a beautiful, burgundy colored strapless floor length dress with shoes dyed to match (CLASSY!) and no date. I was so heartbroken that even when my mama offered to take me to dinner at Casa Ole’, I turned it down. Life without my boyfriend and thoughts of not going to prom could NOT be cured, even with the incredible, green avocado salsa at Casa Ole’.

    That was back before I realized that most of the world’s problems can, indeed, be solved by eating Mexican food.

    Then, a nice senior boy in my Spanish class asked me to be his date to the prom. I accepted and we were having a great time until we actually arrived at the prom. And while waiting in the party pic line, the song “Lady in Red” came on and I saw my ex-boyfriend dancing with his date. I was so sad because I knew it should have been us dancing and I would be the “lady in red”. Except in burgundy.

    I hoped maybe the night would end with him realizing how much he missed me and wanted me back. It would be a moment worthy of even the best John Hughes’ movie.

    Yeah, that didn’t happen.

    My junior year, I was dating a sophomore boy. I asked him to my junior/senior prom and I wore the most fabulous dress. It was black with small white polka dots, sleeveless and had a short skirt that was…wait for it…a bubble skirt.

    I wore it with black hose, black high heels and hair that can only be described as needing its own zip code. Looking back, someone should have told me to step away from the teasing comb. Everyone told me I looked just like Jody Watley (remember “I’m looking for a new love baby, a new love, yeah, yeah, yeah) and that was just about the greatest compliment ever. EVER.

    Anyway, as we sat and told our stories, Gulley and I were able to see some real prom drama unfold. There were two girls who kept going in and out of the restaurant, and I don’t know what was going on but there were lots of tears and hugging and general unhappiness.

    We wondered if we should tell those girls not to worry about it because someday a miserable prom experience will make for some great stories that will cause your best friend to snort wine out of her nose, but decided against it because they’d never believe us. After all, high school is EVERYTHING. Does life even matter after high school?

    So, we walked out of the restaurant, gave the girls a smile and headed home.

    After I came in the house and put on my pajamas. I turned on the T.V. and as if God hadn’t already sent showers of blessings my way, He gave me one more.

    Pretty in Pink was on T.V.

    “What about prom, Blaine? WHAT ABOUT PROM?”

    So I sat, watched it for the 585th time and thought about its deep meaning and how glad I am that at the end those two crazy kids got back together because you know that if they were able to survive all the prom drama, the rest of their lives will be a cakewalk.

    How about y’all? Let me hear some prom stories.

  • Just add basic sales skills

    Today, Gulley and I got to spend the whole day shopping without our children. For the last 17 years, we have always dedicated the first weekend in December to an entire girls’ weekend to complete all of our Christmas shopping and present wrapping. Then, last year, we decided this uninterrupted shopping and talking marathon should happen more than once a year, so we created a spring shopping weekend, which is really just a Saturday. But if we close our eyes and pretend, it feels like a whole weekend.

    We shopped all day long with our primary goal being to find Gulley a swimsuit for the summer. I didn’t need to shop for a swimsuit because I already have two from last summer that will suffice, and really a person should only have to survive the injustice of seeing themselves in so little clothing under the harsh, unforgiving glare of flourescent lights once every few years.

    And here’s a tip for the salesgirl at Just Add Water, in case she’s reading (yeah, right). If two potential buyers are browsing through a group of swimsuits in the store, it would probably benefit your sales numbers not to pointedly look them up and down and then say, “This section is for C, D, and DD cups”, in a tone of voice that clearly conveys you think they have gotten lost in a land where they deserve no passport.

    I helped Gulley pick out a few swimsuits to try on and then we headed to the dressing room. And let me tell y’all what they now have in the dressing rooms at Just Add Water.

    Disposable thongs.

    That’s right. They supply you with disposable thongs so that you can get a better idea of what a swimsuit will look like without having your underwear all bunched up inside the bottoms and hanging out, perhaps making you think those swim bottoms offer more extensive coverage than they actually do.

    Gulley took one look at those disposable thongs and said, “You’ve got to believe that the only thing worse than seeing yourself in a pair of swimsuit bottoms after a long winter, is seeing yourself in a disposable thong while looking in a three way mirror.”

    I couldn’t agree more.

    Anyway, she had success and made a swimsuit purchase.

    And for those of y’all who have been on the edge of your seats all weekend, I took back the Ann Taylor dress because I found my receipt and knew that I could get my full purchase price refunded. It was like a huge burden had been lifted from my shoulders. The weight of that shirtdress was just wearing me down.

    The salesgirl asked why I was returning it and I told her, “I tried it on 411 times and just couldn’t decide, until my husband told me I looked like a librarian.”

    Blank stare.

    And then she checked the box that said, “Changed mind.”

    I guess it was more information than she actually needed. Just like seeing yourself in a disposable thong.

  • If only Ward Cleaver had been this witty

    A few weeks ago, I went shopping at Ann Taylor Loft and one of the salesgirls was wearing this darling, chocolate brown shirt dress. I thought it was so cute and then realized, it was right there in the store and available for purchase.

    Imagine that.

    So, I took the dress into the dressing room and tried it on. The fit was reminiscent of the type of dress June Cleaver wore to vacuum her living room back in the 50’s complete with a belt at the waist, and it was not necessarily the type of thing I would normally wear (and by not necessarily, I mean never in a million years), but thinking about how cute that salesgirl looked convinced me that I needed to have this dress in my wardrobe.

    I brought it home and it’s been hanging in my closet ever since. I’ve tried it on more times than I can admit without being committed to some sort of indecisiveness therapy, trying to decide if I really liked it or not. Actually, that’s not correct. I liked the dress, I just wasn’t sure I liked it on me.

    It seemed like I might need a different life to go with the dress. A life filled with 3 hot, homecooked meals a day, membership in a gardening club, and a child that doesn’t consider Target to be the epitome of civilization.

    I kept wavering between feeling cute as a button or like something out of The Stepford Wives. I tried it on once with a strand of pearls, and when I looked at my reflection in the mirror, it actually startled me.

    Anyway, I finally decided that I was going to keep it because, in all honesty, I realized I probably threw away the receipt at about the same time I was trying the dress on for the 411th time. Which should serve as another reminder that my life doesn’t go with this dress.

    This morning, I put the dress on.

    I walked into the kitchen where P was drinking his morning coffee. I could feel his eyes on me, and briefly wondered what he was thinking since he had missed the other 410 times I’d tried the dress on. The great thing about being married to P is he never leaves me wondering for long before he states his feelings.

    Today was no exception.

    I was putting some things in my purse when he says, “Ma’am, could you tell me where the card catalogue is located and teach me about the Dewey Decimal System?”

    As God is my witness, I am tearing apart my closet tomorrow, looking for that receipt. The dress is going back to the store so that it can find a more suitable owner.

    June Cleaver is one thing, but a librarian…that’s an entirely different matter.

    ***Updated to show y’all a picture of the dress. Remember, I didn’t say it isn’t cute, I just feel like I’m playing the part of someone else when I have it on. And no, that’s not me in the dress, it’s from the Ann Taylor Loft website.