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| Going to the reception |
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| Just married at Normandy Baptist Temple |
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| Escaping to the getaway car |
Friday, June 29, 2012
July 1, 1967
Monday, March 30, 2009
The "Sandwich" Generation
My generation has always been known as the "baby boomers"...those conceived and born during and just after World War II. Now we're becoming known by another name...the sandwich generation. For a number of years, we have cared for our children, grandchildren and parents. To most, it is a blessing to have that opportunity. I love having my adult children visit. I adore spending time with my beautiful grandchildren. If necessary I would take care of any of them at any time. For the last four years, I've had the primary responsibility for my mother, who is now nearly 87 years old. As an only child, I accept this responsibility and do it to the best of my ability. Prior to my father's death in 2006 from bladder cancer, he had that responsibility. He drove her everywhere, prepared her medications, did all the yard work and much of the housework and laundry. He paid all the bills and made all the decisions. I didn't know how much responsibility he had until he became ill and they moved in with us. He did all this while enduring two major open heart surgeries in 10 years and going through radiation treatments. His final physical act was to move them into our home to make sure that she would be well provided for. Most of the time, she is appreciative. When she isn't, I remind myself and my husband that one day we will probably be old and we will need care. I pray that we are able to care for ourselves and each other, but if not, I pray that we will be kind and thankful. Most of all I pray that we will keep our sense of humor.
Friday, February 20, 2009
An OLD Poem
“A friend loves at all times.”
Have you heard that before?
Maybe you think it’s just too much a chore
To love someone who lets you down.
Did you know a real friend doesn’t keep score?
A friend sees the things acquaintances don’t see.
A friend looks inside for what her friend can be.
She’ll always forgive when most would walk away.
Bound, heart to heart, a friend sets you free.
Have you heard that before?
Maybe you think it’s just too much a chore
To love someone who lets you down.
Did you know a real friend doesn’t keep score?
A friend sees the things acquaintances don’t see.
A friend looks inside for what her friend can be.
She’ll always forgive when most would walk away.
Bound, heart to heart, a friend sets you free.
Monday, September 29, 2008
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
Missouri Born - Southern Bred
The southern girl is a state of mind, not always born and bred.
Her history and southern roots are deep inside her head.
She may be from Missouri, but her mama taught her well.
She felt that Mason-Dixon Line; she’s a genuine southern belle
When she was just a little girl, “up north” was a foreign place
And Yankee was the boogie man; a name that meant disgrace.
She’ll call her father “Daddy” until the day she dies.
You’ll hear “yes Sir” and “no, Ma’am”.
She makes grits and pe-can pies.
She fixes cornbread dressin’ without a recipe
“You taste it and you mix it ‘til it’s the right consistency”.
She was taught to be a lady and mind her manners too.
Her southern hospitality will always welcome you.
She knows when a thing is tacky; to be common is a vice.
The superlative is “darlin’”; beware of “idn’t that nice?”.
A southern girl seems fragile, but covers don’t make books.
She has iron will and nerves of steel…much stronger than she looks.
She learned “the south will rise again", but she shines a better light.
She’ll cherish the good, discard the bad; know who, how, when to fight.
November 19, 1983
For my mama.
Her history and southern roots are deep inside her head.
She may be from Missouri, but her mama taught her well.
She felt that Mason-Dixon Line; she’s a genuine southern belle
When she was just a little girl, “up north” was a foreign place
And Yankee was the boogie man; a name that meant disgrace.
She’ll call her father “Daddy” until the day she dies.
You’ll hear “yes Sir” and “no, Ma’am”.
She makes grits and pe-can pies.
She fixes cornbread dressin’ without a recipe
“You taste it and you mix it ‘til it’s the right consistency”.
She was taught to be a lady and mind her manners too.
Her southern hospitality will always welcome you.
She knows when a thing is tacky; to be common is a vice.
The superlative is “darlin’”; beware of “idn’t that nice?”.
A southern girl seems fragile, but covers don’t make books.
She has iron will and nerves of steel…much stronger than she looks.
She learned “the south will rise again", but she shines a better light.
She’ll cherish the good, discard the bad; know who, how, when to fight.
November 19, 1983
For my mama.
Monday, August 4, 2008
Letting Go
Today I’m letting go of yesterday that haunts me.
Today I’m letting go of friends and loves I’ve lost.
Today I’m letting go of worn-out dreams that taunt me.
Today I’m letting go old bridges, burned or crossed.
My heart had long been hidden by walls and camouflage,
but pain still came, unbidden, and joy was a mirage.
Denial was a way of life whose baggage weighed me down.
Behind my mask, my soul was rife with deep, still pools that drown.
But open windows bring in light, and light makes good things grow.
So goodbye mask, and walls, and night, for today I’m letting go.
Today I’m letting go of friends and loves I’ve lost.
Today I’m letting go of worn-out dreams that taunt me.
Today I’m letting go old bridges, burned or crossed.
My heart had long been hidden by walls and camouflage,
but pain still came, unbidden, and joy was a mirage.
Denial was a way of life whose baggage weighed me down.
Behind my mask, my soul was rife with deep, still pools that drown.
But open windows bring in light, and light makes good things grow.
So goodbye mask, and walls, and night, for today I’m letting go.
Mondays
Monday is my least favorite day of the week. I love my weekends, as most of us do. Sunday evening I begin preparing myself for Monday. I used to dread it. I used to be "down" on Monday. Dragging myself into work, usually with a headache..barely surviving the day and LIVING for 5:00 to go home and start preparing myself for Tuesday. Does it sound like I hate my job? I don't. I actually love it and love my coworkers. So why do I dread going to work on Monday? I've pondered that for some time now. A verse keeps coming to mind, "THIS is the day the Lord has made, we will rejoice and be glad in it." Wishing for another time, another day, another place, another person, another life causes me to miss the opportunity I have today. In the words of Drs. Minnerth and Meier..."happiness is a choice". Being happy with today is a choice. Being happy on Monday is a choice. Looking for the opportunity God has for me today is where my focus needs to be, especially on Monday.
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