Simple Faith and Plain Truth

Last Sunday morning was the 2013 Homecoming Service at Union Baptist Church. My mom asked all of us (her kids and their families) to be her guests. It is the church that we attended as children with my parents and my Granny.  For most of my life, I lived just down the road from this house of believers.

I was so glad to be able to be a part of this service. We were the last of our family to enter so we got to sit in the row closest to the front. My mom's offspring filled 3 pews. 

The couple we sat behind were the owners of the pregnant cow that I hit with my car in high school. (That's a whole other blog.) That put a smile on my face that the service began. I helped my children with their hymnals as we sang "Brethren, We Have Met to Worship". They didn't know how to use them. Eric jokingly leaned over and said, "Where's the big screen?" We sang the 1st, 2nd and 4th verse, naturally. 

As we sang songs that I knew so well that I didn't need the hymnal, I began to cry. I'm sure that the choir members probably thought that I hadn't taken my medication or something because I continued to pretty much bawl through the entire service. 

Tears ran down my cheeks as I was full of thoughts of my Granny. Of how she loved going to church and how I loved going with her. She had her spot with her lap afghan because the air conditioning vent blew onto our pew. We sat beside her, used her pen (always an erasable pen-remember those?), twirled her jewelry, leaned on her shoulder or her lap as she tickled our arms. 

I choked up when the pastor talked to the people in the congregation and they talked back to him. There was an atmosphere of family instead of formality that I hadn't experienced in a long time. I couldn't get the words of the doxology to come as we stood to sing after the offering because of the lump in my throat. I cried some more when "Amen!' and "Yes!" rippled through the pews as the preacher gave his sermon.

The thing that got me the most, though---the thing that kept me weeping even when I thought I would stop---was the altar. If you saw it, you would think it ordinary. What made it extraordinary to me were the scuff marks. On both sides of the pulpit, where the people of the church would kneel when they went to the front to pray, the baseboards were worn and marked. 

I thought of all those that had knelt there over the years. Those that were faithful to God's vision for this church and the community surrounding it. They knew the people who lived in the houses around them. A REAL COMMUNITY. You didn't have to go to the church to be loved on by the Church. 

In second place after my home, it was here in this place that I was taught about Jesus. The One who would MAKE my life. It was with these people that I saw His teachings lived out in this locality. Imperfect people trying to practice what they learned. 

There were no big screens, bands, or big VBS productions. Their terminology would now be criticized. Their methodology a bit antiquated. The order of worship might be considered old fashioned. But what I learned there STUCK. And I am thankful for it.

"Onward Christian Soldiers", the pledge to the flags and the Bible, macaroni art, hymnals, and the potluck dinners that we had pale in comparison to some of what is offered in church houses today. Don't get me wrong. The church we attend with people we love has the big screen, the band, and the programs. We have a large beautiful building that we are thankful for. They in themselves aren't bad. They are quite nice.  It's just that we need to be vigilant so that the flash of it all doesn't dim THE LIGHT.

My brother sang a song that morning and I would like to share some of the words with you:

A pastor stands before his congregation

Once a mighty army for the Lord

But now he stares into the lifeless eyes

Believers leading carnal lives

He wonders what they’re fighting for

But driven by a calling on his life

He spoke God’s word like he’d done a hundred times before

But this time he comes broken and weeping

With tears of a broken heart

And he cries out to the Lord

Oh Lord, send Your wind into this valley

And breathe the breath of life into their souls

And raise them again a mighty army

For soon these arisen warriors will battle again

For they have been filled with the Spirit Wind

                       

It doesn't matter if our churches are filled with 2 people or 2000, whether we have a beat up piano or a full orchestra.  It isn't the package that matters but The Message we live and tell. Dear God, help us remember what we are fighting for. I pray our legacy is a generation that is a reflection of You.

1 Timothy 2:1-10

The Message (MSG)

Simple Faith and Plain Truth

2 ^1-3 The first thing I want you to do is pray. Pray every way you know how, for everyone you know. Pray especially for rulers and their governments to rule well so we can be quietly about our business of living simply, in humble contemplation. This is the way our Savior God wants us to live.

^4-7 He wants not only us but everyone saved, you know, everyone to get to know the truthwe’ve learned: that there’s one God and only one, and one Priest-Mediator between God and us—Jesus, who offered himself in exchange for everyone held captive by sin, to set them all free. Eventually the news is going to get out. This and this only has been my appointed work: getting this news to those who have never heard of God, and explaining how it works by simple faith and plain truth.

^8-10 Since prayer is at the bottom of all this, what I want mostly is for men to pray—not shaking angry fists at enemies but raising holy hands to God. And I want women to get in there with the men in humility before God, not primping before a mirror or chasing the latest fashions but doing something beautiful for God and becoming beautiful doing it.

Spirit Wind, Casting Crowns

www.biblegateway.com

Restore, Chapter 8--Thankfulness (Semi)Wordless Wednesday

There aren't really words to describe how thankful we are for all of the special people that helped and prayed and supported us throughout the Restore process and event. So since it is Wednesday, I'll do a semi-wordless post dedicated to those who are such kind and loving friends. Not everyone is pictured here but your faces are forever in our hearts. 

                    

Louie, Louie

We now have an INDOOR dog. We already have Charlotte, a very OUTDOOR dog, but the children wanted a pet that they could cuddle with on the couch in the evenings or to take for a walk on a leash. I think they may be envisioning some film version of child and dog with soft music in the background and lots of slow motion scenes of playful pet bath times.

After the Gold Fish Incident, you all will think I've lost my mind. Actually those are the exact words of my niece when I told her about the dog:  "You have lost your mind." It isn't that she thinks having pets inside is a bad thing. My niece has several indoor dogs. She loves them. But, she has heard me (on repeated occasions) adamantly object to a dog in my house.

The kids have been pleading and as we considered the adopting a dog, instead of pondering all of the reasons NOT to get one, we tried to think of reasons that it would be good to get one.

Dinah has had all summer with her siblings and with them gone to school everyday, I feel it is a bit lonely for her. I can't take her outside to play or to town for a diversion when she wants or needs it because we have to work around Granny's schedule. A dog would be a playmate for her and we could provide a home and love to a pet that needed it.  The older children are (somewhat) responsible and caring for a pet would only foster qualities of dutifulness and dependability. And it would make them all terribly happy.

My mom and I looked at the Corinth Animal Shelter and on Petfinder.com to browse pets that needed homes.  We had decided that an older dog would be better because we wanted one that was more settled because of Granny. We didn't want an excited puppy getting under her feet. We found a Cocker Spaniel in Madison, Alabama at the Animal Rescue Foundation that we thought would be a great fit for our home. He was 3 years old, neutered, house trained and good with kids. I showed Eric and Ty. They agreed that he was wonderful. I e-mailed to get particulars and we readied ourselves.

Then....

We got a call from my niece to tell us that a friend of a friend needed to find a new home for their dog, Honey, because they moved to a leased condo and didn't need to have the dog there. We reasoned that it would be better to get the pet closer to home and this dog was going to be free of charge. So I emailed the Madison foster-owner to tell her that we wouldn't be getting the cocker spaniel. We contacted Honey's owner and planned to pick the pup up on the following Saturday. Through that week, I felt a bit disappointed about the dog in Alabama. I kind-of bonded with his picture. I knew that it made more sense to get Honey but I was sad for the dog that I would never meet. I called Honey's owner Friday night to plan our meeting.

Guess what?

The owner changed her mind.

Surprisingly, I felt relieved. I was so thankful that I had not shown the picture to the girls or told them anything. I quickly e-mailed my new friend at MARF (Madison Animal Rescue Foundation) and let her know that our circumstances had changed again and that if our dog was still available, we would be coming to get him on Saturday. He was still available. Teresa came to sit with Granny while Mom and I drove to the outskirts of Huntsville.

Meet Louie.

Louie was very excited to see us and had no qualms about leaving his home state to travel with us.
He sat in my lap half of the drive home.

(Now all you pet lovers may find this next part a bit cruel. But I have held to a rule of honesty in all my parenting and I felt that I should hold fast to this as a pet owner as well. I wanted to be up front with Louie so that he would not be disappointed.)

I reminded him that all this cuddling with me was only temporary because he was the kids' dog and not mine. I explained that he and I would be friends but that is all. We would not sleep together. I would not let him lick my face. I would not be referring to him as my child. I told him that he would have at least 4 others that would love him sooooo much that he would be glad that I kept my distance. By the time we arrived home, I felt we had achieved an understanding.

We are masters at surprise. The kids were delighted. (As you can tell from the picture above.) Louie loved the attention and got busy sniffing out the house. (He's going to be very useful because he found a moldy tortilla with refried beans in it behind the dining room buffet table within an hour in residence. No. I do not move the buffet when I clean.)

Louie was walked and fed and watered. He had as much love and attention as any dog could want or stand.

There was only one problem.

He kept following ME.

All my speeches and honesty did not have any affect on this sweet dog. He didn't seem to care that I kept pointing him to the children. He didn't notice that I was changing seats around the living room after he came to sit with me. He didn't even get the hint when I went into Granny's room to lose him. 

I wanted to call the foundation and ask if he had any hearing problems that they didn't tell us about. Remember what I said about him not sleeping with me earlier. He must not have heard that. This is where he settled in that night when I went to bed. 

Yes, that is a pillow and the head of my double bed. He apparently thinks the doggy pillow we bought him is only for daytime use. I roused him from his comfy place and sent him packing to Ty's room.

On Monday when the children were gone, he assigned himself to help me with the housecleaning. He licked the silverware that I placed in the dish washer to clean. I must not have rinsed them well enough? He sat in my dirt as I swept the floors. Maybe to keep it from scattering? Dinah kept shouting, "Wouie! Get out of her dirt!" (I say that a lot to the kids while I'm sweeping. They always walk through the pile I've made.) He made sure he sat in front of the dryer as I tried to put the wet clothes in. Maybe he thought he would help pass them over?

I reminded him of the 7 day trial period the rescue foundation had written in the form I filled out and I may have mentioned the words foster-care a few times.

All in all, he's a great dog though. He's wonderful with the children. He revels in their affection and tolerates it so well when they try to put sunglasses on him before I can tell them not to. He hasn't had any accidents in the house. He is eating away at my defenses with his constant devotion. Any being that can love me like that is pretty special.

The trial period was over yesterday and he's a keeper.

(I may or may not have referred to myself as his mama yesterday.)

Blooming Where You Are Planted

The theme for August at Mississippi Women Bloggers is "Learning to bloom where you are planted". I'm sharing a little about how I'm trying to do that and how it has led me to some really good books.

Come join us there and read my "Booklights and Belly Laughs" .

"No man can be called friendless who has God and the companionship of good books." 

                                                                               --Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Happy Reading!!

While The Kids Are Away.....

Eric and the children had glowing reports from school yesterday. Eric is excited about his classes. Ty said he had never made so many new friends in one day. Tess talked about all of her new chums like she had known them for years (I'm not surprised). Amelia couldn't remember her playmates' names (I'm not surprised), but she was excited about them none-the-less. After supper she asked for a hot glue gun so she could make something for her new teacher.

After waiting for news during the eternity that was yesterday, it was a relief to learn they had all had such a favorable experience. I know that every day this year might not be as wonderful as the last but as Mary Poppins  says, "Well begun is half done". It means so much to start off well.

What did I do all day long while they were at school and Dinah was at Papa's? I'm glad you asked. I'll tell you.

I came back home after I dropped Dinah off to let Emily get going. Granny had finished breakfast, her devotion and her newspaper. Emily informed me that the only trouble they had was an uncomfortable question that Gran had concerning a topic in the "Dear Annie" column. I will now have to proof the paper and black out all articles that might be a bit awkward to explain to one's 85 year-old grandmother.

Gran went to her room and settled in to her comfy chair. Granny eats lots of sweets. She never feels like eating a real meal. I offer her a plate full of vegetables and meat and she says, "I don't want that. Just something little...like a cookie". I try not to make issue of it until she has consumed the equivalent of a pound of sugar and nothing else. Because when I'm her age and waiting for Jesus to call me home, I think I'll be the same way. In between fetching her coffee and cupcakes, I was free to do what ever I needed to do.

I could no longer put off all that cleaning that I needed to do. I attacked the laundry first. It says something about one's wash load when it is one's dream not to have granite countertops or master suite but to have an enormous laundry room with two washers and dryers.

After the laundry closet was rocking, I moved on to dusting. I've been sneezing ever since. I had on black yoga pants. They became polka dotted black yoga pants because balls of dust clung to the fabric. (I never get to the dusting when the kids are home. Keeping the house picked up, floors swept and dishes done is about all I can manage. The dust doesn't seem to mind waiting patiently.)

The next item to clean was the fish bowl. We acquired a gold fish a few months ago when the girls won one at the fishing rodeo that the church sponsors. (Thanks, JJ.) I think fish are beautiful. I like to look at other people's fish tanks. But when one comes into our house (especially a gold fish) I don't see a fish. I see failure.

This time we have done much better than in the past. Tess and Amelia have been tending the fish carefully. Tess has been cleaning out the bowl on a regular basis when I don't get to it. The problem is that it doesn't stay clean long and then the water stinks. I thought I smelled something on Monday and yesterday morning as I spent more time in that room, I realized it was indeed the fish bowl.

I took Claire into the kitchen and talked with her as I worked on her home. I washed my hands and did some other things in the kitchen while I waited for her to adjust to the new water temp. I ate a gummy worm in front of her without thinking and felt the need to apologize to her. Then I thought, "She really liked her flakes." She probably didn't even like worms. So I ate another. (Don't you talk to your fish too?)

After I finished cleaning, I placed her rocks, her weed and herself back into the bowl and put Claire back in her place. I fed her and then went on to cleaning the floors. I didn't think about her much after that except that I knew that Tess would be appreciative that I had helped her out with that chore.

In the evening, I noticed Eric standing in front of Claire's bowl and I wandered over there to let him compliment me on how her bowl sparkled. I said something about how quickly her bowl got dirty. He just kept looking as I kept talking. I paused and he said, "She's dead."

I did a double take. She was indeed very still.

"What! She was fine today! And I cleaned her bowl like I always do. I made sure she got used to her water."

"Well, she is still dead."

I had really thought we had turned a corner when it came to fish keeping. We are still just fish killers.

The girls heard and came running.

"Oh, Claire!"

"Poor Fishy!"

I began apologizing. (I did not want to promise to buy a new one. But that is what you do when they cry and are upset, right? You say you are sorry. Acknowledge that no other pet could replace the beloved pet that they lost. But, after some time, if they felt like they could love another, you would let them pick out a new one.)

They just stood there looking for a moment until Tess said, "I get to flush her."

Amelia whined, "But you got to last time."

"It's going to be a lovely funeral," Tess said excitedly.

That response made me feel glad I hadn't told them we could get another. When they asked, I firmly told them "NO".

____________________________________


After the passing of Claire, I began filling out all of the school forms in triplicate.

The forms, while I know they are necessary, just highlight my inadequacies in my memory and as a mother. (It doesn't take much to highlight my inadequacies, even small fish can do it.)

I have to keep asking the kids,

"What day is your birthday?"

"How old are you?"

"What grade are you in?"

"Pull that card back out and make sure I checked Female instead of Male."

I haven't even tried to remember their social security numbers.

I REALLY, REALLY love my kids. I think maybe the forms make me nervous. Like its a test. It's amazing how many numbers are associated with a person and I have so many to remember.

At one point after I had asked one such question of Tess, she said, "You are getting like Granny." as I stated simultaneously, "I'm getting like Granny." She laughed. I sighed.

I'm only 34. Odds are, I have a lot more life to go through. If having all these kids has taken my memory, I pray at least one of them will take care of me.

How did you spend the time while you waited for your little ones to come home?

Fish bowl and accessories available for anyone who needs them.

Christ's Sufficiency on the First Day of School

Well, my husband and sweet children are at school now.

My sister, Emily, came over this morning to sit with Granny so that I could go be with them as they went to Alcorn Central for the first time. (Actually, they have visited the school many times this summer with their dad. I, however, have never been inside the school before except to go into a gymnasium.)

Ty and Tess slipped away from me without letting me give them a last hug and a goodbye. I refrained from chasing them down the hallway and calling their names. (Yes, I can display restraint when I have to.) They went to the gymnasium to get their schedules and have assembly before beginning their day.

Eric, Dinah and I walked Amelia to her class. She is in the new Mrs. Burcham's class. Maybe that will help them connect, with them both learning the school for the first time. Amelia was reserved but was not turning red (a sure sign that she is upset or nervous), so I felt better about leaving her. She was only the second child to arrive in the room so her teacher was able to give her attention that she might not have if she had entered at a later time.

I had planned on sticking my head into the middle school gym to make sure that Tess and Ty weren't sitting by themselves. (Probably far apart, not together.)  (Not sure what I planned to do if they were. I might have pulled a Papa and just taken them home. He's notorious for doing that with them in preschool if he doesn't think the teachers and other toddlers are paying HIS grandchild enough attention.) But Eric seemed to want to shake Dinah and I because he kept showing us exits and telling us goodbye. After 6 exits, I took the hint, peeled Dinah from him and carried her out while she yelled, "I need my daddy!" I didn't scold her because I felt like yelling, "I need my family!"

I suppose it was a successful start because only Dinah and I cried. I was doing fine until we prayed while we waited for Emily to get to the house. If I need to function without tears, it is usually better that I just rest in knowing that God knows our need, instead of trying to talk to Him. I fixed my face just in time to get outside and grab a picture before we left. I knew this was my only chance because I have never done very well at getting a snap shot of them in their rooms. I usually have a baby or toddler hanging on my arm and the children are trying to be cool and not notice me. So from prior experience, I knew just to be glad I was getting this photo.

As we pulled out of Deer Park, I turned my blinker on for the wrong direction. Thankfully, I was following Eric because if I had not seen him turn right, I might have gone on for a bit on autopilot without noticing. Poor Tess saw it and said nervously that I should have let the car continue toward the highway. Bless her.

I wanted to give them something encouraging to have their hands on to while they were at school today so I wrote out Philippians 4:13 on notecards for them. When I can't be with them, I love that God's Word can be. I (any probably you) have memorized the NKJV but I have been stuck on the Amplified Bible lately and this verse is a perfect example of why I am.

Philippians 4:13

Amplified Bible (AMP)

¹³ I have strength for all things in Christ Who empowers me [I am ready for anything and equal to anything through Him Who^[a]infuses inner strength into me; I am ^[b]self-sufficient in Christ’s sufficiency].

I like how it is explained in the brackets. "Self-sufficient in Christ's sufficiency", that is a word we needed today! I think I might need it more than they do but I'm glad it is there for all of us (you too). 

This is the shot I got before we all loaded up and drove to school. (Eric declined being in the pic but I can tell you he looked handsome and was smiling too.) I'm praying they will be wearing those same smiles this afternoon. It is funny that those same kids that gave me the slip this morning probably will be fighting with each other to tell me about their day. (That's why I don't mind the slip. I know they really love me and know I love them.)

Poor Dinah just had to go to Papa's because she was devastated to be left behind. He had a new Barbie puzzle waiting for her, so I think she forgot all about the pain. :)

Oh, and despite what I said yesterday,  I didn't take and hour, or two, or three to miss them. I wanted them back before I walked out of the building. What a blessing they are to me.

I'm Going to Miss My Kids!

Man, I love my kids.

I posted something funny this evening that my Tess told me. I don't think she was trying to be funny when she said it but it made me smile none-the-less. If I posted all of the moments like those that our family has everyday, I would have to hire someone to do it because there are so many of them.

Funny moments, sad moments, tender moments, difficult moments and crazy-mom-is-freaking-out-again moments make up my day. Lately we've added stop-everyone-be-quiet-because-Granny-is-confused moments. You know like when you were a kid and your dad was driving in bad weather so the radio got turned off and everyone sat still as stones until you got home because it was important that he concentrate? I get like that when Granny is confused and the children can tell when they need to go sit down, be still and keep Dinah entertained because my full focus has to be on Granny. (How great are they to know that and understand that? Pretty great.)

I joke that every time I've had a child go to kindergarten, I have another baby because I can't stand not having someone with me. (I guess it isn't a joke because I've really had a baby every time one of them went to kindergarten. I don't have anyone going to kindergarten this year, so I'm not having a baby. Well, that and Eric says we can't have anymore because in all probability he is going to be attempting to draw his Social Security before Dinah graduates and he wants to retire before he turns 80) I miss them so much when they aren't here with me.

Yes, there are times when I think, "I've got to have an hour of peace or I'm going to go crazy." When they are fighting non-stop and I am tired and I can't take it any more, August and a new school year doesn't seem so bad. But I really want them with me, because an hour (maybe a couple of hours, or three) after they are gone, I am wanting them home again.

I don't know if you know it, but I'm a homeschool mom wannabe. Ever since Ty was a toddler, I have prayed that I would get to keep my children home with me. So far, God has not seen fit to grant me that request. Maybe He is protecting me (or my children) from myself. Maybe I would be a horrible homeschool mom. I don't know. All I know is that my babies are and probably will always be in public school.

My husband is a school teacher. Being around the teacher community for some time, I hear or have heard in the past other teachers or people from the community complain when a teacher's children are homeschooled or even that they don't go to the same school that the teacher does. I may have been one of those complainers at one time or another.

And then on the other side of the coin, (maybe because I want to be one of them) I have experienced feeling (real or imagined) that a homeschool parent didn't think I was doing the right thing for my children for allowing them to go to public school. It's kind of hard not to think that when they are telling you all the reasons they wouldn't let their child cross the threshold.

What have I learned from both of these sides and with years of experience being a mom? That each parent has to do what they think is best for their children by following the Lord's guidance in all things. It really isn't any of my business where anyone else's child goes to school. I should only voice opinions about my own children and keep all other thoughts to myself. As long as we have sought His direction for our children's education and have listened for His voice and feel we are walking in that way, I (I say "I" here because Eric doesn't feel guilty about it) shouldn't feel guilt either way.

So tonight on the eve of a new school year, I thank God for public school and the fact that we are able to be a part of what He has planned there. I pray for all of the administrators and teachers that will walk those halls and teach in those classrooms. They have a huge job before them and can only do it through the Lord's strength. Satan wants them to fail. He wants them to mess up. Our prayers need to be many for those who teach.

I pray for the parents who will watch their child go out the door in the morning and wish them back again. I pray for the parents who don't get to take their child to school and kiss them goodbye at the door. I pray for the children. I pray that they would each have an adult who loves them and cares for them and is able to clothe them and help keep them clean and keep them fed. I pray that each child will find a caring teacher on the other side of the door in the morning. I pray that we as parents remember that just because we send our children outside the home to be educated, it doesn't mean that we aren't teachers ourselves. I pray that we take up our responsibility as well.

I pray also for my homeschool friends. I thank God that they have the opportunity to teach their children at home because not everyone has that option. I ask blessings on their homes as they decide on and prepare curriculum. For those who are weary from being 24/7 caregivers without a moment to themselves, I pray for them strength and peace of mind and opportunities for rest. I pray for their children as well. That they will have focus as they take their lessons at home.

I hope that you see my heart about all of these things. I had no intention when I started this post that it would end up here. I just thought I was going to tell you about how much I love my sweet (most of the time) children and how much I am going to miss them (at least after an hour, or two, or three) tomorrow. Granny, Dinah and I will probably just sit and stare at the wall and wonder where the summer went.

I am so grateful that my children don't feel like I did about school. (I would have loved to have been homeschooled as a child. To be honest though, with my crippling shyness, I think that if I had been, I might still be living with my mother and looking a bit like Bette Davis in the first part of Now, Voyager.) But as they go to a new school in the morning I will have to pray for extra measure of peace to outweigh the butterflies for them and myself. If you have time, we would appreciate if you would pray for them also. Alcorn Central is a lot bigger than Biggersville. (Yes, that is a bit of a paradox.) I'm praying they won't be overwhelmed and they make friends easily.  They will be missing their other friends more as they go to school in the morning.

Tess shot down my offer to make a commercial with testimonials from her current friends about what a great friend she is. She is on her own now. I tried to help. I packed a stick (a small one--It kind of looks like a pencil) in Ty's back pack for him to beat the girls off. I know he's my kid but I think anyone would tell you he is handsome and he has a personality to go with it. It's killing me. Amelia told me that she was going to wait until the day after tomorrow (because she was sure that she would have friends by then) to let them know she was crazy. I let her know we might need to keep that to ourselves, especially with new friends, but she assured me it was the good kind of crazy, the fun kind. (So we know who to pray for a little extra.) As their mama, I know they are wonderful kids and my greatest comfort is as they walk into a school knowing very few people that they all 3 have the Holy Spirit going in with them.

So I hope you'll forgive this very all-over-the-place post and excuse me while I cry a bit before I go to sleep.

Prayers going up for all school people, home and public, (And Private!)

Anna

Letter From A Coach's Wife

Since Eric and I have been married, he has only coached at 2 schools. Rienzi and Biggersille are almost extensions of each other so its like it was only one. I had been a student at Biggersville and since we married 2 summers after I graduated, there wasn't much time for me or the school to change much before I became a part of it again through my husband.

I always kept the books for Eric's ballgames until sometime after Tess was born and I was able to finally convince Eric that I could not watch a 2 year-old and a 6 month old and keep the books at the same time. He thought I was more talented that I actually was. And apparently still had a notion that I could handle anything thrown at me because he moved me to the concession stand with said toddler and infant in tow. :)

As the years passed, more babies came, and I began to work outside the home more, I was unable to make it to all the ballgames like I wanted to. It just doesn't make a whole lot of sense to have young children out in the freezing cold (because most of the season is spent sitting outside at night in temps below 50 degrees) or to have them crying incessantly at home because they were sleepy when they had to take a bath at 10 p.m. because they had school the next day and we had been at the ball field.

We went to as many games as we could that coincided with the right temperature, location and my being off from work. This past year when we might have been able to participate more fully in being present to support our team, Granny came to live with us. We attempted to go to the games and just sit in the car a few times until it became apparent that while Granny did well on these outings, she became more confused after we came home. So, again, we became home cheerleaders.

I've struggled with this outcome and even though I have felt the decisions made were the best for our family, I have fallen into the trap of comparing myself to other coaches' wives. I know that some wives would never miss a game, no matter what the weather or how many children they have in tow. I know that some know all the players' names, their positions and their stats. Sincerely, my hat is off to them because I don't know how they do it. With homework and housework and a job, I am barely keeping up.

My insecurity about it finds me questioning Eric. "Are you really okay with me staying home tonight?" "Do you think I don't care about the team? Because I really do." "I hope the parents know that I don't just stay home because I don't feel like going."

Being the woman that I am, when he reassures me that it is okay that I am not there and that he agrees with me, I immediately question that too. "Is it not important to you that I am there?"

Yes. I have issues.

So now, as we venture to Alcorn Central with new people and a new team, my insecurities rise to the surface again.

I'm horrible at meeting new people. I have NO small talk. I try to just smile big and pray you don't think I'm stupid when I don't have anything to say. I try but the more I do, the more my mind just goes blank. I have trouble remembering names and it has nothing to do with how much I like you. And that's just when I am able to be present. I will hardly ever be able to come on campus. I'm absent more now than I have ever been because of Granny. I even have to miss some of my children's ballgames now.

I am doing the best I can trying to balance all the demands placed on me with the desires of my heart. So instead of listing all of the ways that I feel I may be falling short, I thought of the things that I can offer as a coach's wife.

I love my husband. 

Eric is a coach. While he is also many other things, the coach portion is one of the larger parts. Because I love my husband as a whole, that includes the coach part. I've never referred to myself as a baseball widow. I'm a part of his team as much as if I was a player or another coach. I listen. I ask questions. I comment. I am interested. I am engaged. I care.

When I don't get to go to the games, after the kids have gone to bed, I sit on the couch to welcome him as he arrives home and ask, "How'd it go?" I'll listen to his recounting of the game, inning by inning and then sit with him as he calls in the score.

How does that help you?  I understand that for a portion of the fall and from January to May, I will be on my own a great portion of the time. I hope that by being supportive of my husband in his calling and not complaining about the time he spends away from us helps him be the best coach he can be.

I love your children.

You see him at the practices and at the games but you don't see all the time he spends preparing. You don't see him talking on the phone with parents and grandparents about their kids. You don't see the hours he spends making cookie dough so that he can sell it to buy equipment for them. You don't know that he offers his time and expertise without renumeration for the benefit of the school and team. You don't see the hours he spends mowing, weed eating, and painting so that they can have a ball field to be proud of.

I think that your children are important. Their lives have meaning and are valuable. Eric's impact on them will be far-reaching so I feel that sharing my husband is worth it.


I love Jesus.

I pray earnestly for the administrators, the coaches, the players, the parents and fans. I pray for the other teams. I pray for the referees and the umpires. I pray about the uniforms that you'll wear. I pray for safety. I pray about attitudes and sportsmanship.  I pray for wisdom for all of us. So that we'll understand what is really important and what is not. That we'll stand up for what needs to be defended and know when to let something pass. That we would be thankful for the times we get things right, and learn from the times we get things wrong. That we would be honorable in the winning and in the losing.

You know those insecurities I mentioned? (I would have loved to have left them out of this post, but I'm trying to be honest here.) They seem to be my major struggle in life. Jesus is trying to work them out of me. But no matter how my head runs away from me, I know in my heart that He holds us securely in His hands.

Loving Jesus, however imperfectly I do it,  helps me love my husband and love your children.

Well, I'm afraid that is all. It is only 3 things but I promise to be faithful in them. And I look forward to the time that I get to know you all. You will be able to go from wondering if I'll ever talk to wishing I would hush up and let you get a word in edge-wise.

My First Day of School Blues (i.e. Five-Year-Old Agony)

With school starting in a few days, I have been thinking of my years in the classroom. For most of the 13 years that I attended public school, the first days of each year were nothing less than a nightmare for me. Let me explain. I know you want me to. :)

I like to be at home. People who aren't my family scare me a little (or a lot) before I get to know them (or learn to avoid them at all costs). This is not new. It has always been.

Kindergarten messed with that. Big time.

Come to think of it all of the other grades did that too.

I remember visiting kindergarten for the first time clutching my mother's hand. The kindergarten classes were held in what I can only describe as a house trailer pulled onto campus. We climbed the steps together and we walked in the room. I remember hula hoops in a box under the windows that were letting in bright sunshine to our left. I loved hula hoops and sunshine as long as they were at HOME. Here they mocked my pain.

We made our way to the front of the room. I tried with all my might not to break down like the girl who was crying so hard that she was hiccuping. If she was that upset, it must be as bad there as I thought it would be. Maybe Mama wouldn't leave me.

Even though I ended up loving my teacher, I didn't know her yet and on that first day it did not help matters that she penciled on VERY arched eyebrows. Like there was no real eyebrow left. Just enormous arches above her eyes. My mom hardly wore any make-up so to see this face fully and deeply painted was a bit shocking to me. She might as well have been green because this is the image I saw:

We were introduced and then I was shown my desk. And then the unthinkable happened. My mother left me there. All alone. Well, the 25 other kids and 2 teachers didn't count.

I couldn't help it. I began to cry. I was silent though. No wails or hiccups. Just restrained misery.

Somehow I made it through that day.

Guess what?

My family expected me to go back.

I know.

Horrible.

Guess what?

This time I had to ride a school bus.

Yes.

Horrible.

The only help was that my big sister, Emily, was with me. We stood at the end of our long driveway waiting at the crack of dawn for the large yellow bus to come and take us to the torture chamber some referred to as school. We would turn back and wave to my encouraging, smiling mother (whom I now know being a mother myself had to be the most stouthearted mom alive to pry me off of her leg everyday. I'm so sorry, Mama) and my oh, so fortunate little sister, Rachel and brother, Seth. How good they had it. Home. All day. Bliss.

Ms. Tammy was a great bus driver. She turned out to be a long-suffering one as well. Because we were some of the first riders on, and probably because of my pitiful look, I got the seat right behind her. She probably regretted that move later. I felt I had no recourse but to stand behind her, cry and beg her to take me back to my mama. I knew how I would handle Mama if she would just take me home. I could walk in and say, "Well, I had to come back. The bus driver wasn't going to take us to school. Now let's have no more of that nonsense. Who wants to go play?"

Now that I'm grown up I realize how patient Ms. Tammy was and how kindly she dealt with me. It was an hour long bus route--one hour to drive a filling school bus and to listen to me blubber behind her. God bless her.

She tried at first to tell me how much fun I would have. "Kindergarten is so fun!" I didn't buy that. I'd been there already. She didn't know how awesome home was. She would go on to say that she couldn't turn the bus around. The kids had to go to school. After that didn't work, she just said, "I'm sorry, sweetie" a million times until we got to school.

Emily would walk me to my class (as she did every school day until the middle of my first grade year when my teacher told her not to anymore--Insufferably mean woman) and I reluctantly let her leave me after the teacher told me to let go of her so she could go to her class. I can still remember the sick feeling that rose from my stomach and lodged in my throat. I would just try to stare ahead of me and not talk because the hot tears were spilling. (The hiccuping girl didn't cry anymore after the first day. So that just left me to be the big baby.)

Something miraculous happened during the day though. I must have had fun. Something took my mind off of the homesickness and when the day was over, the hard-hearted Ms. Tammy who wouldn't turn around that morning became the most wonderful woman in the world in the afternoon. She was taking me HOME!!

In recompense for the morning hysterics, I stood behind her and pulled out her gray hairs. It was ok. I just found them and then she would say, "Girl! Pull that out!"

I'm glad that I had some redeeming qualities (gray-hair plucker) and that she was a mightily understanding woman because even though the crying and begging only lasted several weeks, they returned with each fall. That's right. I cried for at least 2 weeks of the beginning of every school year until I was in the 6th grade. (That was the year that my mom became a teacher and taught across the road. Ms. Tammy must have had a shouting party when she saw her route assignments that year.)

All of you who love having my mom as a teacher can send me a thank you note. I feel like God probably said, "Sheesh! She isn't going to quit being a scaredy cat so I'll just have to send her mother with her." He's benevolent that way.

Yes. I cried when I went to college too. He sent me Kristen that time. 


(You must know that my kindergarten teacher became so special to me. I would never want to hurt her and I hope if she ever sees this that she knows that a 5 year old's perception of things can be a bit off. Also the "insufferable mean" first grade teacher has a little bit of my heart also. She knew I was the most scared kid alive and she hoped to help me by making me more independent. As you know by reading this, it didn't work, but God bless her for trying.)

I hope that this does not scare any parents sending their offspring to school for the first time this year. If it makes you nervous, just think about how well I turned out. 

Spreading hope. 

That's what I do.

Photo courtesy of imdb.com

Getting To Know You--MSWB Linkup

I'm glad to take part in Mississippi Women Bloggers first link up. I'm excited to get to know my sister bloggers.

 

  

What part of Mississippi are you from? 

Born in Corinth, MS -- Alcorn County all the way.

How long have you been blogging? 

My first blog post was made on September 1, 2009. It was on my first blog. It was entitled "Amelia and Her Dog".  

Why did you start blogging? 

I was writing "notes" on Facebook and had many friends encourage me to start a blog site. 

Tell us what we can expect when reading your blog. 

I hope you can always expect and count on real posts, no matter the subject matter, which of course could be about anything.  

What does your blog title mean? 

I chose Anna Becoming because I feel like I am chronicling what I am becoming. I hope becoming more like Christ. 

What do you love about being part of Mississippi Women Bloggers? 

Meeting other women who understand who you are and where you come from.

Who inspires you to blog? 

I feel like the Lord does. He uses my family a great deal of the time.

If you could pick a favorite blog post from this past year, what would it be?  

This one is hard for me but if I pick just one it is, "I Remember".

Do your real life friends know you blog?  How do they respond? 

Yes. I have never received anything but encouragement when anyone mentions my blog. If anyone doesn't like it, I guess they are holding to what their mama's told them, "If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all."

What is your blogging routine (if you have one)? 

Sadly, no routine. Attempt to write daily.   

We all love social media!  Are there any social media links you would like to share so we can follow you? 

You can follow me on Twitter @annjanlan

Name 3 bloggers who have not joined Mississippi Women Bloggers that you would like to see join us! 

All my blogging friends have joined!