A Woman's Purpose

Let's say a woman has been living for somebody else her entire adult life. Her husband's dreams have become her purpose in life. At least what she thought she knew of those dreams. And then a troubling thing happens: the man's dreams become distorted by mental illness. What does she do? Does she say to him, "Honey, when I vowed 'in sickness and in health,' that did not include crazy?" Or how about, "Sweetheart, 'for better or worse' was not meant to cover blatantly destructive behavior?"

I read somewhere that when one writes about a subject, she should not leave the topic open-ended. In other words, she should offer a solution to the problem she presents for consideration. Well, I'm going to break that rule. (Since I'm all about breaking rules these days.) I'm working on a solution for this dilemma. I'm just not there yet.

So, back to my original train of thought. How does a woman who is accustomed to living for someone else start living for herself? And once your life is melded with another, can you ever truly go back?

Not you typical blogging post, I know. But this is where I am for now.

Blogging Again

How does one start again? It's been almost a year since my last post. Lots of things have transpired since then. A recap might be in order....but I think I'll pass. At any rate, here I am again.

Hill Billy Word Of The Day

SLAP - a degree of measurement expressing totality, for example, "That storage shed is slap full!" synonym: plum

GO, WOMAN!

It was Mother's Day afternoon at my brother-in-law's house, where family dinner was followed by a serious game of softball. Most everybody played. Six-year olds and forty-somethings together.I don't really remember what inning it was when it happened. I hit a ground ball down the second base line, into center field. Base hit! I was doing good! Standing on first, and a little out of breath, I was ready to go. The next batter hit a home run. Not the kind that flies into the woods, or over the pasture fence; no such luck. The hitter and I had to run like crazy if we were going to make it home.

I was running as fast as a bare-footed fat woman in a denim skirt could go! About the time I rounded third, I heard him on my tail, "Run, Mom, run!" Players on both teams were going wild, and his voice grew closer. I thought I was pickin' 'em up and layin' em down. Evidently not. The voice grew stronger, until "Run, Mom" turned into a frantic "GO, WOMAN!" Laughing like a crazy woman, I made it safely home. My son did, too. What a bonding moment! Could have been a coronary moment...but all was good. Mother's Day was good.

More Evidence of Abuses by our Troops?

Why don't we see these on the news?

Change And Choices

At the risk of borrowing from tomorrow's troubles, I sit here thinking about where I've been and where I'm headed. Only forty-something, I sometimes feel like my life is over. I've made some poor personal decisions in the past...and I live daily in their shadows. Is there light ahead for me? Or is my path now set in stone, dark and cold.

I grew up hearing, "if you make your bed hard, you will have to sleep in it." Such a sense of finality that adage holds! But, is the legendary "hard bed" one's final resting place? Or, just another pit stop, a place to rest (albeit uncomfortably), while new dreams are dreamed, and new schemes hatched? I hope in the latter.

Change is headed my way. An old friend. A ruthless foe. An impartial eventuality. Am I strong enough to face it? Lord God, give me the strength to do each day whatever it takes to be ready for whatever my future holds, and the wisdom to choose well.

Double Ought

I'm just flat embarrassing when I go to one of Nick's soccer games. I jump up and down, and scream, and have a good old time. Today I got some pics of Nick (00) in action, as he played for Badin School. The game ended with a tie, 1-1. What an exciting game!

Niece Nichole in Greece

Nichole is in Greece for this spring semester of college. She's having a blast...as evidenced by the fun and beautiful pictures she sends. There are more pictures at my Flickr site (see right frame).

Nichole at the Acropolis

Nichole Atop Some Ruins

Liz (Nichole's roommate) & Nichole below the sign:
"Do Not Climb On The Ruins"

Sheet Music, c. 1917-1918, Honoring & Celebrating U.S. Soldiers

I'm listing some old sheet music in my store this weekend. The covers are so lovely, I thought I'd share a few here. These pieces are of the large format, so the covers had to be scanned in sections. I hope someone else enjoys them as much as I have:

Big Enough Children

It was early October, 1979, six days before my mom died. She was to be admitted to the Cleveland Clinic the next day for her third heart surgery. This was Sunday afternoon. She shared with me a secret...she wouldn't be coming home from this hospital stay. She was tired of being sick, and had told the Lord she would rather die than continue to suffer. She believed she was going to die. She gave up.

I was stunned. No, Mom, you're not going to die, I pleaded with her. But, she rattled off a list of things for me to remember when she was gone: always take your purse with you wherever you go; as soon as I'm gone, your dad will try to move you kids to Florida...fight him for all you're worth, but do not let him take you and your sister to Florida (which he did, and which I did); and so on. She showed me where the "important papers" were, then she said something I'll never forget.

I used to pray that God would let me live long enough to see my children big enough to take care of themselves. Now, I wish I had prayed to see my grandchildren. Her youngest had turned thirteen only days before. I was sixteen, and my brothers seventeen and eighteen. Yet, we were not big enough to take care of ourselves. Not really. Of course, we could take care of basic physical needs. But, none of us were really big enough to do without our mother. We needed her touch, her smile, her comfort, her guidance, and her faith in us.

This past Saturday, I heard a woman say that she wishes her grown children--ages nineteen and twenty--would move out of her house. I'm done raising kids, she said. They're big enough to take care of themselves!

My heart filled with sadness, as my mind drifted back to that fateful afternoon when my mom declared her kids were big enough to take care of themselves. If she could have seen where our lives would eventually lead, and how great were our needs, she would have never given up. I know that now.

God grant me the time in life that my son needs from me. Help me to never give up. Give me the forsight to realize that my job is not through when my son ages out of adolescence. Help me to be there for him, as You have been here for me.

Good Therapy

Blogging for several months...then not blogging for a month or so...leaves me feeling kinda guilty. Do I dare come back? Pick up where I left off? All I know is that I really missed it. Sharing my thoughts with everybody--and maybe nobody--is theraputic. I'm going to try and continue. God bless us every one.

Buttercups Anew

Buttercups (perhaps better known as Daffodils) are here! How refreshing they are after a dreary winter. They remind me of the Lord's faithfulness. No matter how bleak the circumstances...God is still in control. New beginnings, fresh starts are still possible with Him.

Lunar Eclipse

Tonight there was a lunar eclipse. I couldn't hold my camera still enough in the pushy wind, so the pictures didn't turn out quite right. I thought they were interesting, however. Here are a few:

H-O-R-S-E

I played a game of H-O-R-S-E today with my sister—and my basketball-playing son—and I won! I even surprised myself! (It remains to be seen if I will be able to move tomorrow.)

My son then talked me into a game of P-I-G (my sister bowed out), which he promptly won. Then it was "best two out of three" because "I can't have you braggin' to people about this!" Well, that last game was a nail biter. After several rounds, and both of us having earned P-I, Nick finally made a shot from nearly half court (his specialty). It was nothing but net! I knew there was no way I was making that shot, but I tried. It was nothing but air. Both of us have bragging rights now. I'm happy with that.

This was the first time Nick and I have played basketball together. He didn't quite believe I could do it...just as he was shocked the first time we played catch with a football and I put my fingers on the laces to throw, and when I showed him how to catch a baseball without being afraid of it.

Now, I'm no great athlete. Never was. But, I had two older brothers and swarms of cousins who didn't mind teaching me a few fundamentals. Who knew they were giving me a gift that I would someday use to play basketball with my own son?

I had a ball today! (No pun intended.) I won't soon forget it. I hope Nick won't either.

Cotton Field Deer At Twilight

These pictures were taken from a few hundred yards away, at twilight, so the quality is not so good. However, I love watching the deer in the field and just wanted to share them. Maybe I'll get better photos next time.

The Gift of Good Decision Making

My husband bought a house one day while I wasn't around. Just days before this, we made a downpayment and signed a contract for a 4-plex. I was surprized that he would now buy a house without my knowledge. But, hey, he's the head of the house. Right?

There was a time when I really didn't care to know about our personal finances. We were doing well. I trusted my husband implicity to make our financial decisions. We lived very comfortably. He seemed to know what he was doing.

I'll have to admit that at times, I thought he was trying to kill me (metaphorically speaking), because every time he bought rental houses or mobile homes, it meant more work. We spent years repairing, painting, hiring contractors, maintaining properties, advertising and showing vacancies, dealing with tenants, evicting deadbeat renters and suing for damages.

So, even though I wasn't involved in all of the decision making, I was intimately involved in the work produced by those decisions. Both of us were overwhelmed, sometimes, by the workload.

My husband had an insatiable appetite for more, it seemed. He was running himself ragged. I didn't know at the time that he was sick (bi-polar). He had always been a leader, a go-getter, someone who "made it happen." But now he was reckless. His behavior became erratic, unpredicatable.

In the height of his heyday, tragedy struck. His sister died. He went through the motions of the funeral, then took to the bed. I'd call home from work, but couldn't reach him on our home phone, or his cell. I'd call his mom or sister...and they'd go beat on the door until he got up and answered. My husband was in a very dark place, for a very long time.

Then the unthinkable happened—he had a stroke. I had many responsibilities and tough decisions to make, and the one person I leaned on for decision making was incapacitated. It was a nightmare.

As he recovered from the obvious side-affects of stroke, his behavior became increasingly troubling. He stayed up for forty-eight hours and spray painted all his mobile homes. He spent hundreds of dollars on plants for the family homestead, and hundreds more on light fixtures (because they were on sale at Lowe's and you never know when you'll need them). When I found a loaded gun in the bottom drawer of his dresser, I started reaching for help.

Anyone who has an ill family member knows the chaos I'm talking about. Sometimes there seems to be no remedy. Certainly there is no "quick-fix."

If I could give the Christian women of the world one thing, it would be the ability to make good decisions. What happens to the human body when it is decapitated? Likewise, what happens to the home when the head of the house is so direly affected by brain illness (bi-polar disorder), or brain injury (stroke), or both?

Christian husbands and wives are blessed when they follow a godly pattern for their lives. Truly it is a blessing when your familial head is a mature Christian, who has his family's best interest at heart. Yet, Christian women should not bury their heads in the sand. There are predators out there, disease and tragedy, that can threaten the very existense of the warm cocoon they're living in.

Christian wives, are you living blissfully in the assumption that your husband will always be there to take care of you?

If any Christian husbands are reading this, I implore you to think about what will happen to your family if something happens to you. Will your wife be able to live in the manner she has grown accustomed to? Will she be able to make adequate personal and financial decisions? Who will she turn to for help? You could give her a wonderful gift this Christmas: the wisdom, knowledge and strength to carry on should something happen to you. Help her to know how to make important decisions, because life is uncertain, and you never know when she might need those skills.

Woman's Work

A man's work is from sun to sun, but a woman's work is never done!

Or so my mom used to say. As I go to bed thinking about all the work I didn't finish today, and all my chores for tomorrow, it's a little overwhelming. A good night's rest and a good morning (should the LORD grant me another) will offer new opportunities for accomplishing many tasks. But my work is never truly done. No wonder Jesus said in Matthew 6, verse 34, "Take therefore no thought for the morrow: for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself. Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof."

Gettin' Ready for Christmas

Kory & Nick goofing off

Kory & the tree

Nichole was home from Meredith College for Thanksgiving

Kory, Nick & Wayne helped making the cards...but I only have pics of Kory

Christmas Card Economics

I purchased some white and off-white linen card stock a few years ago—several boxes, in fact. When I found them in the "reduced price" or "clearance" bin at Office Max, I thought about how much money I could save if I made my own Christmas cards!

Now, two years after that fateful purchase, I'm finally getting the cards done...with the help of my loyal sidekick, Kory, and my son (who would normally not be caught dead doing something so craftsy), and even Wayne. After buying the blank cards (with envelopes), saving and recycling card covers from previous years, spending hours of cutting, gluing, taping, rubber stamping, mounting stickers and trying to work with foil confetti, and hole-punching paper with snowflake designs, we're almost done.

We're pleased with the almost-end-product, so far. It took a lot of time and money to create such homemade-looking (and I do mean that in a homely sense) handmade Christmas cards. No one, by the way, will help me with addressing the envelopes, signing the cards, and stuffing the envelopes.

So, my lesson is learned, and this is my advice: if you're interested in having a little fun with your kids—and don't mind the extra time and money it will require—making Christmas cards is fun. But, if you're looking to save money on Christmas cards, buy the pre-made retail cards. Better yet, get them the day after Christmas and save them for next year's card list.

(Stay tuned for pictures, which are coming soon.)

A Poem by Wilma McPhail

Wilma McPail was a lady I knew from church. I was probably thirteen at the time. She was a published poet, and I played my guitar and sang in church. One day when my family and I were visiting her at home, she handed me a folder filled with unpublished poetry. She asked me to put music to her work, said she'd love to hear some of her poems sung. So, I did that with the following poem (see below) and have sung it in church many times through the years. Sis. McPhail was pleasantly surprised by the poem I used, as there were others she thought more suitable.

Sadly, I disappointed her when I did not use any more of her poems. I did not see the rare opportunity placed before me that day, as teenagers often don't. I wish I could have another chance with Sis. McPhail's poetry. I'm sure she has gone on to be with the Lord. Her health was failing even then, when I knew her. If anyone knows of her work, or how I can contact any of her family members, please send me an email to: anweury at yahoo dot com.

Somewhere there is someone
In need of our prayer
Somewhere there is someone
Lost in despair
Somewhere God is listening
To see if we care
So let's pray one for another
That his blessings we will share

Take time to pray daily
Even though things go well
For sin may vex us tomorrow
Only God can tell
A brother uplifted
By our prayers today
Will ask our Father to have mercy
On his children who prayed

Somewhere there are valleys
We each must walk through
Troubles, heartaches
And disappointments, too
But if we pray as we travel
When our sun ceases to shine
God will answer our brother's prayers
As he answered yours and mine

—by Wilma McPhail