Finding Balm in Gilead

The Trophy

This past spring marked Cash's first foray into organized sports. He was officially old enough to play T-ball this year and let me tell you, he was all over it. His sister Gracie also played T-ball for the first time this year, too, but she was more into the fact that they got to wear purple zebra socks and ribbons in their hair while calling themselves the Purple Sparkle team.

Cash's group never did name themselves, which really bothered Gracie.

Anyway, while my girl was busy making sure she had all her matching accessories in place to play ball, my boy was intense about putting on his game face, to the point of constantly wanting to practice catching grounders in the front yard, and, of course, working on perfecting his "slide" into home base.

It was a study in contrasts, I tell you, between the boy and the girl.

Gracie decided after the first two games that this would be the first and the last season she would play T-ball. Funnily enough, she's pretty good. Her long legs send her flying around those bases, and she's a strong hitter, too, for someone who's not that interested in the sport.

Her brother, on the other hand, is already planning his professional career. He was one of the smallest on his team this year of 4-6 year olds, but he had one of the biggest hearts. In fact, if I let him, he would wear his T-ball shirt every day of the week. He took everything about the game very seriously, and tried to coach Gracie on how to be ready for the ball....only to find that she really wasn't too concerned about the ball as long as it didn't affect the position of her purple visor on top of her head.

One thing they could agree on together were the free popsicles for ballplayers at the concession stand after the game.

But last night solidified the significance of what T-ball meant for Cash this year. We missed the trophy presentation a few weeks ago, and so his coach dropped off his trophy and team pictures last night while the kids were taking a bath. When I told Cash that he had a pictures waiting for him on the dining room table after he got dried off, I never dreamed that the trophy - this little acrylic thing with cool lettering, and it's not even pretend gold like the trophies of my day - would be the thing that sent Cash over the edge into sports blissdom.

Oh my word. He carried that thing around for the rest of the evening. While I was in the bathroom brushing my teeth, I heard Cash outside the door asking his daddy, "Where's Mom?" Then he came in the bathroom, let out a contented sigh, and looked up at me with this silly grin on his face while holding up his trophy for me to see again. I asked him, "Are you proud of your trophy, bud?" He just giggled and looked at it in his hand and said "Yeah," while turning and walking out the door.

Be still my heart. This is life.

My husband then informed me that while I was in the shower, Cash crawled up on the bed with him and spread out all his T-ball pictures so that Jason could scrutinize each one, even though they were ALL the same pose.

I guess it further stands to reason that after watching Gracie get to be in some organized activities over the past year while Cash still had to wait a while, this first season of T-ball marked the beginning of his official passage from toddlerhood into boyhood.....and into having something of his own to be involved in.

In fact, I heard him tell Gracie this over a glass of milk before bed: "Gracie - I have my trophy, but you don't have yours yet....when do you think you'll get yours?" The boy has something that his older school-age sister did not get before him.

To which she replied nonchalantly while reading a Berenstain Bears book, "Oh, I'll get it sometime." She didn't even look up.

Needless to say, Cash took the trophy to bed with him and positioned it to face him on the nightstand.

There will be many more team trophies and certificates and the like over the coming years, but this trophy...with it's acrylic base and not-even-pretend goldness...will be among the keepsakes I will treasure long after they've moved out and started their own families. I'll place it in my box of memorabilia right next to Gracie's "purple sparkle" zebra socks to remind me of my children's first year of T-ball ....and the differences between this boy and girl born only fifteen months apart.

Be still my heart. This is the life. 

 

Today

Today the kids are at school and Ms.Luann's respectively, and I am alone to work on taxes, make lists, clean house, and write. The taxes thing is a big huge looming cloud over my head since I have no natural comprehension in this matter. The lists are made, but rarely ever are they completely crossed off. The toilets are in need of a good wipe down/scrub, and last night I discovered a hoard - a HOARD, I tell you - of ants milling about under the chip basket on the kitchen counter.

I drew a chalk line early this morning, because somewhere I heard that ants don't like to cross chalk lines.

But from further inspection several hours later, they seem to like to go around it.

Finally, the writing is what I want to do. I have come to this blog many times in the last two months since my last post - January 11th - but couldn't get the words down. I've been so deep in Dalhart history that the time I do have - which is arguably not much - I spend on working on those articles for the paper. I've whined about this before- no use going into it again - but it seems once one is out of the practice of blogging, it is hard to get back to it.

But it isn't for the lack of material. Material for the blog abounds in this house.

Today, though, I am contemplative. New seasons have begun in our home, not the least of which is this season of my children's growth from toddlerhood to full-blown school-age childhood. This season is going all too fast, and I find myself today taking stock of all that we...I....have been involved in lately, and I feel like some cuts need to be made.

Furthermore, two posts on the Lots of Scotts blog really have me thinking today too, particularly the post about Pits - and how we get into them. I am quietly wondering about some pits in my own life that may not look like pits right now, but very well could be quicksand in the near future if I don't put the brakes on the circumstances leading me in this direction.

The Purposeful vs. Perfect Parenting post has me thinking too - really it's all hitting me between the eyes today. If there are any readers left on this ole' blog, head over to Lots of Scotts and check out her posts:

www.lotsofscotts.blogspot.com

You are going to have to scroll down some to get to these two posts. Not far though.

Have a good day! I'm off to make sense of tax.

 

Thoughts Galore

So now that I've vented my concerns over Angry Birds, I want to express my desire and hopes for an I-PAD in the near future.

So that we can play Angry Birds on a big screen.

Anyway, I am sitting here with the little boy watching The Adventures of Chuck and Friends while I try to overcome my writer's block concerning an article for the newspaper this week. My research and timeline for interviews has not panned out this week, and frankly, I'm at a loss as to where to begin in this new year.

Not that there isn't plenty of history here in 'ole Dalhart to write about.....it's just that I seem to have a mental block as to where to begin my research. I'm finding it hard to get back in the groove after more than a month off from the newspaper writing.

In other news, I had grand plans to go to the gym early this morn, but I forgot to set my alarm. I'm obviously extremely dedicated to exercise.

Jason hired our kids to pick up nails, screws, and other paraphrenalia from around his new seed barn that is just now finally completed, and so yesterday afternoon, we trekked around the perimeter of the place with our grocery sacks looking for all sorts of "treasure", if you will. J told the kids he'd pay them a quarter per nail or screw, but I didn't think that he bargained for their extreme diligence and perseverance in this task as they both gathered quite a few nails that will add up to a nice little payday. As Gracie said when we got back into the car, "Mom - this was a good thing for us!"

I treated them to a lemonade at Sonic, but apparently all their scavenger hunting left them ravenous, so we ordered a grilled cheese too. They scarfed it down while discussing their plans for all the money they were going to make from this project. Plans that involve a trip to Toys R Us.

I think I'd like to be in on this little project - there are several things I've had my eye on at say, oh I don't know, Pottery Barn? Restoration Hardware? Texas Furniture?

But I want a dollar per nail.

 

 

Did George Orwell own a slingshot?

My husband is addicted. He is bent on cracking every level ever created in the Angry Birds game app on his I-phone. I thought he was done when last week he announced that he had finally done it - cracked every level - but then.....come to find out, it's neverending.

Furthermore, there's holiday-themed angry birds, too. Did you that there were about a jillion downloads of angry birds on Christmas Day?

I'd say that's fairly indicative of the family dynamics going on in our world today.

The addiction has not gone unnoticed by my four year-old son, who also likes to play a round or thirty of angry birds on Daddy's phone. At least I can monitor and control this little boy's game playing.....but as for the big boy, I'm at a loss.

And to add insult to injury, the kids and I were shopping in Target last week, and DID YOU KNOW that there are angry bird pillow pet-type stuffed animals for sale? Are you kidding me?

And if that's not enough, we were driving down a street in Amarillo THAT SAME DAY when we passed a costume shop and can you guess what was hanging in the window?

Angry Bird costumes, my friends.

Back in my teaching days, I taught a book written in 1948 by George Orwell titled Nineteen Eighty-Four. It was essentially his theory on what the world will look like in 1984...totalitarian government, thought police, and a society based on propaganda and rewritten history from the government. The slogan of the world, and basically the theme of the book, was "Big Brother is watching you."

I've thought often in recent years that our society has, in fact, become somewhat like this world George Orwell put forth in that book written so long ago. With this new digital age that we live in with our tv's, computers, and I-phones, it does seem that there are overtones of "Big Brother" in huge ways.

I'm just sayin'.

But never, EVER did I think that a game app of blinking birds soaring through the air with destruction on their mind would infiltrate and single-handedly cause the hiatus of anything productive in the time management category, not to mention the decline of human communication and critical thinking as we know it. Even the world wide web is no match for an angry bird.

FOR INSTANCE.....

Internet surfing - yes this is a time stealer and definitely takes away from that personal communication theme, though some of my best research, creative ideas and shopping coux's come this way - without the help of a half-hearted clerk.

Facebook - a massive time waster concerning some of life's most trivial issues(for the most part). And yet it reels you in by the notion that you might miss out on some important information about a past acquaintance, like (for instance) the fact that they just washed their hair....

Texting - Though devoid of correct grammar usage and collectively aiding in the extinction of a properly composed sentence, the nature of a text's brevity still helps navigate those conversations that we don't have time to have BECAUSE.........

We're busy playing Angry Birds on the I-phone.

George Orwell thought that Big Brother and the thought police would be the overlying cause of the demise of society, but what he didn't know at that time was that his Big Brother concept...

is really just an Angry Bird.

Who needs the thought police when you have a bird and a slingshot to occupy your time?

Now excuse me, I hear there is a valentine exploding hearts edition of Angry Birds that I need to check out.

Well-played, Big Brother, well-played.

Happy New Year 2012

Though I haven't posted in a while, I am still here...and planning to do better in 2012. I miss writing here, though I love researching and interviewing people in our little town for the newspaper.

There's much to write about here on the 'ole blog, though, and I'd like to say that I promise to give an account of the last few months....but who am I kidding - THAT MAY NOT HAPPEN, people.

Life is passing by quickly, y'all, and these kiddos are growing up minute by minute.....and I am filled with joy. Just in the last month we went from school programs....(pardon the atrocity of my photography skills)

to a little bit of snow....

to getting ready for Christmas....

to cruising the western Caribbean....

and back to a major blizzard at home in Dalhart just before Christmas....

Whew - I haven't even arrived at the Christmas pics yet.

More pictures to come....and more memories to make.

2012 will be even better. Happy New Year!

And November is Over....

Good grief - the time has flown. The end of October throughout November has been a whirlwind of activity, not the least of which being Cash's birthday, an open house for J's business, and Thanksgiving no less.

I will not talk about the stomach bug I contracted on Thanksgiving Day.

Anyway, here it is December 7th, and I haven't posted in two months, though there are so many things that have been on my heart and mind. But this is what is most on my mind.....

They "camped" in Gracie's room one night recently.

This is such a fun age.

Good Times here at the Balm in Gilead house.

More to come later......

Experiencing the drought of … wait.

I always make a point to read Vicky Courtney's "Virtue Alerts" when they appear in my inbox email. She has a pulse on the culture of kids today, and her wisdom and Biblical teaching on how to talk to your kids about all that society tries to tempt them with is truly invaluable information for a mama - no matter what age her kids.

Today, in addition to a post about some heartbreaking incidents in the world of sexting and teens(also a must-read), she wrote about an article she came across in a vintage magazine from 1894. In this article, the writer talks about waiting for the surplus of income to buy that new home....and Vicky applies this bit of wisdom to whatever "drought of waiting" we are in and why God calls us to wait sometimes.

This is especially timely for me for a variety of reasons, not the least of which is that sometimes feeling I get when it seems like we are growing too big for our house,... and furthermore, the fact that I believe we "need" new furniture in some rooms, ...and also that recurring wish that the book that I know is in my head somewhere would just go on ahead and publish itself.

And God has called me to wait...because, as Vicky so aptly says, sometimes the surplus is in just that - the wait.

Meanwhile, a little decluttering would probably create more than enough of the space I think we need, our present furniture is just fine and quite sturdy for now, and that book will come once I figure out just what in the sam hill I'm going to write about.

Read and enjoy....blessings to all.

Experiencing the drought of … wait..

Incidentals

Yesterday, the kids were in rare form.....it was a rainy day - praise the Lord - and we stayed inside virtually all day. At 6, I had a quick interview for an article and took the kids with me. They behaved beautifully. Afterwards, we had to run into the store for some toppings for our tortilla soup that was back on the stove at home.

And this is where the pent-up energy broke loose.

Cash brought his pretend police cb radio that goes with a dress-up costume - I told him he could bring it in ONLY if he turned the grating, horribly loud siren off....lest we scare some grocery patrons. He agreed, but what ensued was a full out secret agent game that both he and Gracie played while I navigated the aisles with them following in their stealthy style. Cash talked into his radio, Gracie talked into her bracelet slash secret spy phone, and both kids hopped on ONLY the blue squares in the floor. I only had four ingredients to get - jack cheese, cilantro, pecans(for the pear crisp in the oven-yum), and tape - which was a request from Gracie who is currently into making casts and slings for all her barbies and dolls who seem to have a propensity for accidents lately.

I went in needing to get four things.....I came out with twenty things,and no pecans.

Meanwhile, the whole grocery store was aware that two 007 agents were slinking behind the displays and jumping out in front of shopping carts and grabbing food items for their missions and I thought I would never get out of there .....my well-behaved kids just moments before had turned into ROGUE agents.....and it was chaos. Here's a sample of some of the conversation:

Me: "Ok - almost done...we just need to get our yogurt and we're outta here."

Cash: "I'LLLLLL GET IT!!! Gwacie - we have to gwet the dwanimals...hwurry! "

Gracie:(talking into her bracelet) " We're on it Cash. Quick grab 'em - DON'T FORGET TO STEP ONLY ON THE BLUE!!!"

Cash: (in a guttural boyish growl): "AH HA!!!! I'VE GOT IT GWACIE!! LET"S GO!!!"

I can't remember what was said after that since I was trying to guide them quickly to the checkout and out the door, and looking back on this conversation, it seems anti-climactic now, but LET ME JUST SAY THAT WE COULDN'T GET OUT OF THERE FAST ENOUGH.

I didn't even let the sacker take our groceries out - I slung 'em on both wrists( the bags, not the kids), had my little CIA prospects grab my pinkies as they plotted their next mission, and out the door into the fog we went.

I won't even tell you about bedtime a few hours later....it wasn't pretty.

And I'll admit, it wasn't one of my best parenting moments either.

Immersed in "The Help"

I started reading The Help this weekend and I can't put it down.

I'm a little late on the bandwagon, especially since it's A MOVIE PLAYING RIGHT NOW, but it's been sitting on my shelf for a year, and finally I've picked it up.

By the way, I got it for a quarter - a quarter I tell you - at the library because they already had enough editions of it and so the librarians put their extras up for sale.

Anyway, I am not sure why I postponed reading it except I was deep in Beverly Lewis's Amish country for a while....then I was deep in Robert Whitlow's mysteries for a while.....then I've been deep in our little town's history for a while.

(Ask me anything about Dalhart prior to 1950 and I can tell you. I am full o' facts. Everytime we drive down the street, I try to point out some interesting trivia about a house or building, but Jason stops me before I even finish my "Did-you-know" sentence.

"You already told me," he says, and then proceeds to tell me exactly what I was about to tell him.)

Anyway. The Help.

This book is awesome - but you probably already know that because you read it two years ago.

I can't go see a movie if there's a book written prior to it. I have to read the book first. Then, with great anticipation, I will go see this movie and judge whether they got the casting right and whether they stuck with the original storyline and whether they set the scene correctly and whether they were in their right mind while making this movie.

I was burned once, you see. I read The Firm with great joy in the early 90's, and was just delighted when they cast Tom Cruise with the lead, because that's exactly what I had imagined in my head....and all this was when I still was riding high on his Top Gun performance of 1985.

(And regarding Tom Cruise - the times: they have a changed. Top Gun can't save him anymore.)

So then, when the powers that be changed the movie ending of The Firm, and totally destroyed the whole direction of the book, I was indignant. Hollywood has no appreciation for good literature.

Among other things.

But I continue to hear that this movie The Help is continually getting praise for it's casting and for sticking close to the original storyline. So I cannot - CAN-NOT - go see this movie without having read the book first. I'm counting on myself to be able to do a Siskel and Ebert review to anyone who will listen....or just in my head.

And I caught myself last night almost responding to a question from my husband with, "I done tol you that a'ready." Because I am deep in this southern book about the help a' all.

Oh, it is so much fun to be reading a good book. I love these characters. I love their funny thoughts and observations, and I love that the author gave several different points of view complete with dialect from both the black perspective and the white perspective.

I adore Minny and Aibileen, and I totally get where Skeeter is coming from, too. And Hilly....don't you just love to hate Hilly?

This is just good reading, y'all. I'm not going to pontificate on all the implications regarding the race issues and the politics of the time. I'm just here to say that this is a great example of engaging characterization, in-depth plot, and just plain good writin'.

See - I am so totally immersed that I all talkin' like I ain't a former English teacher.

But then, to look back at some of my posts, one might wonder 'bout those credentials, anyway.

What did you all think???

About the book, I mean. Just the book.

 

The Curb

To follow up on my post from yesterday and show that I am indeed trying to turn over a new leaf in the promptness department, Gracie turned to me this morning and bemoaned the fact that she wants to sit on the curb today.

"What do you mean, the curb?" I said.

"Mom, I just don't EVER get to sit on the curbbbbb!!!" she said dramatically.

And then I realized what she meant. In my efforts to be prompt and be in the running for mother of the year, I am arriving ten minutes early to pick her up from school, and Cash and I go so far as to walk up to the door and wait for her class to come out at noon.

Problem is, those children whose mothers have not yet arrived GET to sit on the curb of the sidewalk together and visit and wait.

Clearly, Gracie feels she is missing out on something huge.

And in my determination to redeem my past punctuality issues and not be THAT MOM who makes her children wait and wonder if she forgot about them, I have actually been doing my daughter a disservice by not allowing her the pleasure of sitting with her friends on the curb.

Oh how I love the ironies of life.

We will be late today.....for the good of the team.