Pot Holes in my alley

Today I was mowing, I know it is sad that most of my inspiration comes from doing the mundane tasks of my existence, but as I said I was mowing. I was on the riding lawn mower with sweat pouring down my face. Not that glistening type that models have on their face as they take a picture for an outdoor furniture magazine ad but a full fledged sweat with grime mixed in and an odor which clearly let me know my 12 hour deodorant was clearly at hour 18. But I was full throttle mowing the grassy alley behind my house and my neighbors. Yes, we mow the alley way behind our home because I live in a neighborhood where everyone mows on the same day. I am not sure if it is out of a desire for beautification or a much needed desire to keep up the Jones' who don't even live on our street. But as I was saying I was mowing the two block strip at a top rate speed. As I approached the turn to make the second strip of my journey I continued with same vigor and renewal that Yes, I was getting the grass cut. But as I slowed to make the third turn I began to notice the grass was not noticeably shorter on the two previous strips. I pushed down hard on the brake to come to a complete stop and looked around. I looked behind me and beside me and in front of me. The grass was all the same. I had been so intent on getting the job done at break neck speed that I had failed to notice I had not engaged the blade. I had been mowing this entire time with the blade pulled up. I quickly looked around to make sure none of the cars stopped at the light in the road beside me had noticed my mindless blunder. They had not. I engaged the blade, went a few feet and looked back to see perfectly cut grass. As I continued on my mission I began to think that is how I live life. Not fully engaged. I do every task with great speed and little thought but realized I needed to stop and check my path. God wants us to be totally engaged in what we do whether it is sacking groceries at the local store, feeding our children a snack while they play or putting in our time doing our "church work". I get so wrapped up in "doing" life I forget to engage. I forget that I am working not for myself but for the CEO of the universe in everything I do. I can spend countless hours and miles mowing with the blade not engaged and no matter how many times I go over and over the same spot the grass doesn't change. But once I stop and notice what little I have accomplished I can engage "the blade" and quickly all my work is complete. I also noticed as I hit every dip in the alley and the concrete water meter, now please don't tell my husband about this. I have already been banned from most of his power tools already, but I as I went quickly through the grassy potholes of the alley that my blade was being nicked and tossed about. I needed to slow down and go around them or go through them with more care. God puts potholes in our lives not so we go banging through them while getting hurt but so we will slow down and re-evaluate our journey, maybe even get off the mower completely and fix the pothole. But I continue on so stubborn that I can do this if I just go fast enough and not caring if every little blade of grass gets cut. I have even been know to mow around the trash in the yard like the window air conditioner unit that is waiting to be moved to the trash. I vow I will move the trash later. Problem is when I move it later the grass will be dead under it making what I thought was a well groomed lawn look terrible. When I forgot to take the trash out of my life I notice that my prayer life is usually dead, making me look and feel like a less than capable servant for God. I need to get off the mower and get rid of the trash, the resentment, the jealousy, the bitterness and self pity, so that my prayer life is alive and healthy. I finally finished the lawn, dirty and hot but with a sense of accomplishment that it was a job well done. I hope that when I get to Heaven I hear those same words about my time spent here on earth, Job well done my child. Job well done.

If Tomorrow Never Comes

Tonight as I worked out in the yard and began to ponder the things of this world and greater things beyond my mind went to a family friend who we use to go to church with, Janet Lile. Janet is 61 years young has two children and spouses, 14 grandchildren and a husband who called her Rosebud, a beautiful woman inside and out. But yesterday she never woke up. She went to bed eager to face tomorrow and all it would bring but never woke up. For Janet, it is an answered prayer, to go to sleep and wake up in the arms of Jesus. But for those left behind a time of grieving. But as I prayed for the family I began to think just about Janet. Did she sense that would be her last night? Did she know? We always say we are not guaranteed tomorrow. But do we really realize how true that is? In Ecclesiastes 3 we are told,"There is a time for everything and a season for every activity under the heavens a time to be born and a time to die...a time to weep and a time to laugh" But do we believe that? People die all the time. But do we truly realize that as the song goes, What if tomorrow never comes? What if? Have we lived enough? Loved enough? Done enough? What if tonight we go to sleep and tomorrow truly does not come for us? Are we ready? For me yes, I know I will wake up in the arms of Jesus and once again be with my precious son. But did I do enough? Was I ready? My regret will be for my children and the sadness that will come knowing a comforter, a cheerleader, a fighter, their mom would no longer be there. For my husband who will go through the motions of living but will always reach for me and I won't be there. But what worries me more is did I do enough? God has really worked on my heart recently how much time I spend working and trying to save a little extra for the golden years. But what if they never come? Would my time be better spent sipping tea with a dear friend who struggles with an aging parent too. Or quietly writing encouragements to people who have been beaten down. Or playing the park with grandchildren who are growing way too fast. Sitting in the backyard watching the rabbits hop around while birds sing and the clouds pass over slowly sitting still long enough to see the beauty around me and appreciate all that I have been given. Or sitting across from my sons and watching as their faces light up as they talk about their dreams and family. Or just spending time one on one with the Almighty God grasping the total picture of my place here on planet earth and what I need to be urgently doing for Him? What if I only have 24 hours to do all that needs to be done? Or what if I still have a lifetime? Will I waste it all being rushed by the need to organize, clean, create, work more, do more, be more and totally miss the journey I was intended for? Sweet Janet, I pray for your family, not for you as you are basking in the glory of God, but for your family who wishes for one more day, but I also pray for us all as we go through this life too busy pressing forward working for some lofty goal to understand why we are really here. I pray we open our eyes and see, glimpse, understand what really matters before Tomorrow Never Comes. In Memory of Janet Lile

Do Overs

I worked in the yard again today. Too much time to think and reflect and realize how wrong I got it all. If I was given the chance to do it over again here are some things I would never say, be quiet, don't hug so hard you are squeezing me, I love you but just don't like you right now, stop, no I don't have time to sit and watch a movie in the middle of the day, go to sleep, sit up, please don't embarrass me, comb your hair, brush your teeth, grow up, you have to do it my way, I'm too busy, hush, or give me some space. But if God Almighty, Lord of All, King of all Kings, Abba Father were to give me one more day with you, no just 8 hours with you or even one minute here is what I would say, I love you more than my own life, If I could take your doubts and fears completely away I would, The day you were born was the most amazing day and I thank God every day that I get to be your mother, You are the most amazing talented and gifted musician and song writer and no matter what type of music you are making I love just getting to sit and watch the beauty you are creating, Never stop hugging me because it feels me so with warmth, I love you beyond words, You have the kindest and most giving heart I have met, Your ideas and thoughts are brilliant and I could listen to you for hours because you are wise beyond your years, Please never stop hugging me and loving me, I am so proud of you, There is nothing you can ever do to make me embarrassed or stop loving you, Please don't die...I love you my sweet boy. Take the time now to be truly in the moment with your children or loved ones. We don't always get tomorrow or do overs.

We need more trash

As I drove down the street I noticed a neighbor having a garage sale. I had never met this neighbor and she had some interesting things so I slowed to a stop and emerged from the car. I quickly glanced over her books, pillows and clothing and decided there wasn't anything I just couldn't live without. As I started to walk away I spoke to the neighbor and told her I hoped her sale was good. She smiled and I told her I was a neighbor just down the street, second house from the dead end. She smiled and replied yes, you live next to the DeLongs. I agreed but said that had been a while a nice older man lived there now. She replied yes, yes, he does. You are the woman whose son died. I paused for a moment and rolled that around in my brain, The woman whose son died. It seemed so strange to hear those words. It has been three and half years so to be identified as that was just so unfamiliar to me. I lingered there for a moment longer while I noticed the woman still looking at me and quickly added, Yes, yes, I am. Jacob, his name is Jacob. She nodded and then moved on to a paying customer while I continued to ponder her words. As I stood there thinking, the woman whose son died, another woman walked up and said my name. As I struggled to think where I knew her from she quickly pointed out we had meet at a house show she had had for Kyler. You are his mom aren't you? Yes, yes I replied I am Kyler's mom. We talked about our children and then parted ways. A woman whose son died and Kyler's mom. I have always found so much of my self in my children. So who am I now? Yes, I am still their mom but they have left, each in their own way. So who am I? I continued to ponder this as I went home and began planting flowers I had bought. As I weeded and made way for their new home, I began to think. I detest weeding because I do not like sweat pouring down my face and my newly manicured nails filling with dirt and grime underneath. But the main reason is I allow myself to go to places I never venture anymore. I begin to think What? What would he be like if he were still alive? Would he be teaching at Yukon High School with a following of students who thought being a teacher and rapper were beyond belief? Would he be married to the love of his life, Torri. I still dream of her being my daughter in law. She loved being in our family even more sometimes than the boys did. I miss her. I miss him. Would they have children with freckles sprinkled across their noses with deep blue eyes and locks of golden hair. Would he visit often and ask for advice? Would he still come into the room and pick me up with his arms wrapped around me and say, "Just give me a big hug" as I tried to wiggle free? Would he... Then I pull myself from the thoughts that haunt me while I weed. I will never know. Those dreams died that day too. I slowly get up and take the empty pots to the trash when I realize the big green trash can is empty. I quickly begin to count back on my fingers how many days have passed since the trash men came. 1 2 3 4 5. 5 days since the can was sat back down completely empty. And then I begin to cry. An empty trash can, no sign of life. Our neighbor is an elderly man who lives alone. On the nights when I push his can to the street and it is so very light with one half bag full of trash my heart breaks. Ours is overflowing and I quietly take a couple of bags from ours and place them gently in his. No trash, no life. I don't want his can to be so empty when ours is overflowing. Our house full of laughter and people coming and going all hours all night. The can is full and life is abundant. But today our can was empty. Our lives feel so very empty. We need more trash. No more working til late night hours to avoid the quiet. No more eating a bowl of cereal instead of sitting at a table for 5 that feels over sized for a family of two. No more sitting at the tv to keep minds which once entertained free from the memories. No more. No more wishing and praying that times would return. We need more life we need more trash.

The Last Day

Today was the last day of school. Everyone was ready and excited. I watched as classroom of kids danced continuously in the dark with glow in the dark necklaces and bracelets to the Dance Dance Videos. Others played board games all over the room while some created masterpieces with chalk on the still damp sidewalk. I saw more sugar consumed today than at a country fair as they made snow cones and sundaes while eating cookies and cupcakes with extra high icing. The laughter streamed down the hall ways as everyone basked in the glory that summer was just around the corner. Veteran teachers who never shed a tear today dabbed gently at their eyes as they knew these precious little ones would never be theirs again. The remnants of the May 20th tornado still vivid in their minds. Then the bell rang. Kids poured out of the rooms with eager anticipation of a summer ready to start. I noticed a strange sight of a few. Boys who had been in trouble all year and said they hated school had their heads bowed as they walked and their tiny shoulders heaved up and down. I stopped one then another to ask what was wrong? As they lifted their head with sweat matted hair I saw the tears running down each chubby cheek. I will miss her Mrs. Selby. Who I inquired thinking some sweet little girl with golden blond pigtails. My teacher they would reply. I love her so much and don't want to leave. And then another round of tears would start to fall. I hugged each one and assured them they would see her again and next year they would fall just as deep in love with their new teacher. I patted their heads and told them we would miss them but to have a good summer and come back soon. Each boy would nod and wipe at the tear stained cheeks with the backs of their hands and began the trek to the bus or car. How strange that yesterday she nagged or was too mean but today when faced with a future without her she became the most important person. His first love besides mom. He will miss her and come back every year to visit and say Do you remember me? And as he grows tall and becomes a man she will always see him as the little boy who yes took so much extra time but how it was worth it to see the man he has become. Yes, that first love helped to shape his life. He owes so much to her. But for right now he is heartbroken and knows he will never have a teacher as good as she is. Soon the summer days will fade and he will head back to school, to a new room and for her a new group of kids. Each will smile fondly at each other when they pass in the hall. Soon the cycle starts over but for today he cries to leave her and she thanks God for his precious life as she packs her things and prepares to walk out the door. For each one of the teachers in my boys'lives. Thanks for shaping them and loving them even when they could be a little unlovable.

A balloon to Heaven

Our Ladies' Bible Study group is in the process of studying the book of Malachai by Lisa Harper. The book is about God's people fussing at Him and questioning His actions while He allows it and then shows His great love to us through His grace and mercy. Last week's lesson was on questioning God. I truly believe it is ok to ask God, What were You thinking? Because it is so cool when He later reveals the miracles that happen through that action. When I was moved from working with my passion, crisis counseling with secondary students to Pre K- 2nd grade I truly looked to the Heavens and shook my head asking God what was He thinking? 4 years later when Jacob died and I was surrounded by such compassionate family at work I understood. I returned to work soon after he died because I worked at a place where little people come up and hug and say they love me all day long. I got what He was doing. It was so amazing to see how God had orchestrated all that before long before Jacob died. He knew what I would need. So last Monday night when we were given the task of writing down what we wanted to question God about and attaching it to a helium balloon to send to the Heavens I knew exactly what I wanted to ask. I knew the pat answers to why Jacob had to die. People's lives were changed, families reunited, kids quit using, and souls were saved. But I wanted to know why. Why my son. Why did my son have to die for these things to happen? Why? Why couldn't someone else's son die. Why mine? So I wrote out the note and attached it to my balloon as the rest of the ladies did the same. As we released the balloons I shared with the ladies that although God's ways were not the same as ours He was always faithful. I prayed for us to be shown the answers to our prayers in the following weeks. Then the ladies left and I sat about cleaning up and thought no more about it. That night though I had a very vivid dream. Jacob had come back to life and at first everything was perfect but then he started using again and it got bad. I lived in constant fear of him dying again. The agony of watching it all in my dream was gut wrenching. I cried throughout the night as I dreamed on and on. That next morning I was exhausted from the dream. As I awoke I was filled with such sadness and I relieved the nightmare. Then as I was driving to work still thinking about the dream as clear as a bell God spoke to my heart His answer. Jacob had to die because it wasn't ever going to get any better. The only way for him to be healed was to die in the flesh. His prayer journal recorded the words, God, I want to be focused on you 24 hours a day and be free from my demons of addiction. God was telling me that his addiction was never going to be healed in this lifetime. Healing could only come through death and be reunited with God, his Father. And somehow that gave me such peace. I have focused on all that we are missing without him. I had never focused on how life would be for him if he had lived. How hard it was for him when he was here. The day fight for his life with the demons of addiction. How he would tell me mom I have to fight to get up each day because I want to use but know I can't. Now he is free and more alive than ever. I praised God that morning driving to school. Thanking Him for His complete healing in Jacob and for being so quick and faithful in letting me question Him then with His loving grace showing me a little bit of His ways. Do I still miss my precious son? Yes, and it is still every moment of every day but I rejoice in knowing that he is so alive today in Heaven. Thank you God for letting me fuss and question while still holding me close in your arms. Night sweet boy, love you.

A mother is the fiercest protector

I saw a mother hold her son's hand so very very tight as she maneuvered through the mass of cars in the after school parking lot. She griped it tightly and told him to stay close. She protected him like they were walking in a mine field. I thought back to those days when I too would grab those little hands even when no car was in sight just to make sure they were safe. I was a fierce protector of my children. I remember when they were little and we went to the rodeo at the Fair Grounds. They were pre teen boys who were too embarrassed to go in the women's with me and wanted to go into the men's. I let loose of those little pudgy hands and held their faces up to mine telling them with eyes pleading for them to listen, "Go straight to a stall, lock the door, do not make eye contact with anyone and if anyone speaks to you scream, scream loud." They promised over and over and with unwilling hearts as I let them walk through the door of the men's restroom which was filled with wanna be cowboys. With one foot in the door and asking loudly if they were ok, as each man entered I stared in their eyes and memorized their faces, letting them know I was Momma and I would be watching them. Soon my little ones came out with hands still dripping from washing. I hugged them as if they had been gone days and questioned them about their safety. As I looked them over from top to bottom and again stared down the men who came out I thanked God for keeping them safe and we returned to our rodeo seats. Those days are long gone where I can stand half in half out of the men's bathroom or walk them to school each day. I was reminded of this yesterday when my middle son called to tell me he was going to bed at 9pm because he didn't feel good. He began to tell me he was running 101 fever as I grabbed my coat and purse while pulling on my shoes telling Bart I would be back sometime I was driving to Nashville because my baby boy was sick when Zach reminded me he was adult and could take care of himself. An adult, could take care of himself? Oh dear boy, dear boy you may be 23 and you may have scarcely placed stubble on your face, you may be in grad school and have traveled and lived far away but dear boy, never ever will you be an adult and not need your mother. You are my cub and I am your fiercest protector. I will always be your momma who lies awake at night wondering if you have enough covers while you are sleeping in Nashville, and did you remember to take your vitamins and has anyone been mean to you today, and is there any food in your frig. I will travel in my mind when you are driving home every step of the way. I will fight all your battles in my sleep and you will win. And when you come back home to visit I will open the door ever so slightly just to hear you breathing. I will always be your Momma Bear. So as I put my coat away and sat down in the chair I bravely told him take a Tylenol and call me in the morning and let me know how he was feeling. I sat there as he hung up and prayed a short prayer knowing full well I would sit up all night waiting in case he called. So sweet boy you may be grown and you hands bigger but I still want to hold tight to those little pudgy hands and keep you close. I cheer on the momma in the parking lot and tell her keep him safe. And hope someday my little boys will reach out and hold my hand to steady me and keep me safe.