Beware of Puppies and Violins

I sale art. I work with the public. Which really means all day long I run my mouth, and we all know I love to run my mouth. I had a customer come in some time ago, it was a very slow day...and we talked. This very nice gentleman told me how much he loved his wife and seemed very introspective about their love and their marriage. “There is no secret.” he said, “Just don't give up. Learn each other’s ways.”

“Learn each other’s ways.”

Man that is deep and I am not sure if I have ever heard anything that holds more truth.

That is most of what marriage is, knowing each other’s ways. Beware of anyone who says that their marriage is puppies and roses, breakfast in bed and violins playing in the background. Be careful what advice you take from these people. Why be careful of this advice? Because puppies grow into dogs, roses die in the winter, someone has to wash the breakfast dishes and the violinist will need to be paid (probably 50% up front). Marriage is not easy, and pretty much it is always work...work that is worth it...but it is work. I believe you are among the lucky if God guides you to the person that brings you balance. Life is about balance, and a marriage is about the balance you seek and the balance you also provide.

Balance is something you have to look for. Sometimes you have to look down to keep your balance, sometime you have to look up and trust that your balance will come from someone else. You have to “learn each other’s ways” and know when to jump in and be ready to steady each other.

I knew when I saw Lee that my Soul already knew his. It was a moment I will never forget. Lee remembers the same moment... however his was on a different day. Our “day we fell in love” stories differ slightly. But that is the case for a lot of folks, I guess. Your true love moment is not always the same.

Ours is my favorite love story, because we are the stars of the tale. We promised our vows, we believe in our vows. It is a deal we struck based on love. The deal goes something like this: I will protect you, I will encourage you, and I will call you down when you are being a jerk. I will be your best friend and hold your hand for the rest of my life. I will bring you balance.

A story is only as good as its characters. In great stories you learn about characters hopefully in some enduring ways. But as enduring as great characters are they will have struggles, they will have vices. Turning the page you learn more about each other. Sometimes more than you could have hoped for, sometimes more than you expected to find out.

I HAVE LEARNED ABOUT LEE:
1. He coughs once. In my opinion everyone should cough two times, the second being a smaller cough of finality. Try it now... I bet you coughed twice as any normal person should. The one cough, this will be a point of contention during times of illness, but I did promised in sickness and in health.
2. He thinks I'm a mind reader. Often at my most surprised times he will cap off a situation with “I told you, you don't remember?” But here is the clincher, how can I remember something I was never told.
3. Lee loves bacon, I mean really loves bacon.
4. He rounds up to the closet dollar on purchases. He will also balance a checkbook this way if given the chance. That never ends well.
5. He likes to take trips where we don't know anyone.
6. His jokes would not win over just anyone.
7. He likes expensive toys.
8. He would follow me to the ends of the earth to keep me safe.
9. He is an amazing gift giver and loves a surprise.
10. He makes me brave, and I know I'm not facing everything alone.
11. He will never realize I'm the funniest person he knows.
12. When the road was rocky he has carried me.
13. He will keep my balance when I can't look down.

LEE HAS LEARNED ABOUT ME:
1. I leave cabinets doors open, he never knew his job would be to close them.
2. I think he is a mind reader. If I'm upset and he caused it, why does he not know that? How can he not understand? Seriously?
3. I hate the way the house smells after bacon is cooked.
4. I pay the bills, I balance the checkbook. His need for round numbers confuses me. (If every gas transaction is 32.00 I wonder, did I duplicate? did they charge us twice? How many licks does it take to get the tootsie roll center of a tootsie pop? The world may never know).
5. I like to visit family on trips.
6. I love his jokes.
7. I'm cheap.
8. Sometimes I need to know I'm safe, He has to tell me.
9. I'm a terrible gift giver, I hate surprises, and I'm happy with sparkly new toilet seats for Christmas.
10. I want to be brave and act like I can face everything alone.
11. I think I'm funny, He can't quite understand why.
12. I don't want to travel a rocky road alone, ever again.
13. I will keep his balance when he can't look down.

Plans are great—if it is for something that has an end, but this is life, there is not an end to this story. We are all pages in a book still unwritten. There are just new chapters. We have today. Today is the day you can make the most of. Yesterday is spent and tomorrow isn't promised. In our marriage we have to try to stay on the same page or we might miss a very important piece of our story. Stories are always evolving, and the pages are always turning. We can't skip ahead; we can't go straight to the sunset-look at how much we would miss. My hope is that we may always remember the same moments, even if it is in our own way. I hope for balance.

Ours is a love story still being written. The moments captured and still to be captured in our memories will tell a tale of unexpected plot lines, celebrations, twists and turns, sadness and comforting. But if we hold to our promises of love for each other and be true to ourselves it will be the grandest story I will ever have the chance to tell. I don't think it will ever be in hardback. I don't think our story will be on a best seller list. It will be our story and ours alone. I will seek to bring him peace and I will require nothing less than peace for myself. We will find balance when at times it is too scary to look down. We are sometimes as different as day and night, but if we were the same, we would not both be needed. I love “learning his ways” it makes me let go of my need for understanding, it brings chaos to my need for order. He is my balance.

My husband makes me brave. Life has not been easy as of late but I don't have to face it alone. I will seek to bring him peace and I will require nothing less for myself. We will find balance. And balance is worth more than puppies or roses anyday.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE LOVE OF A LIFETIME
A TOAST TO MY HUSBAND AND BEST FRIEND
I LOVE YOU LEE.

Will somebody cut off that violin music? I did not bring the 50% deposit.

Lee, I'm sorry I did not get you the million dollars you ask for, maybe next year!

Rain, Tears and Coping

I have lost loved ones in the past—but it was never like this. My pain was never this pain. During times of others grieving, I had no idea what they were really going through. No doubt, my words of comfort to them were sincere and heartfelt. I wanted to say just the right thing to help ease their pain. But regardless of how sincere I was—I now understand that my choice of words meant nothing. However offering those words means more than is imaginable. There are no stories of how your own suffering compares that will matter. Your choice of words, what you think they need to hear, that does not matter. But the fact that you say something, you say anything, or in certain times hold a hand and say nothing at all…that is what matters. What matters is that we let each other know that we have known hurt and we are trying to understand. It is a common need to be understood that matters. That you know I'm hurting, that I’m longing and you say the words—whatever words so I know you care.

Today is my parent’s anniversary. I did not know that until tonight. That makes me want to hug my Momma and never let go. To say all those words for her to know I care, and that we are in this together, we always have been. We always will be. My heart is so sad for her. And I wish I was holding her hand always. What an Amazing Woman she is.

Tomorrow it will be two weeks since my father passed away.

That being said you can understand that the last 14 days have been filled with anxiety, tough decisions and wavering confidence in those decisions. You do what you think needs to be done...you do what you think needs to be done. You deal. There is no right or wrong way to grieve. There is no right or wrong way to deal, or to cope. When the waves of reality hit you on any given day there is no right or wrong way to cry or to laugh.

As individual as the person you lost, so is your loss. This is going to be personal, this is going to be hard, and this is going to be individual. How could it not be? So all the prayers and kind words mean more than you know, but they do not alter your situation, they just let you know you’re not in it alone.

Coping is constant. I have found my therapy is in the small things. My daughters therapy comes from drawing, mine from counting things to remember about my Daddy, it's like counting sheep. Therapy is also brushing your teeth when you don't want to. Not hitting the snooze button when it is all you feel able to do. Facing the day, doing the same old things, but doing them now, now that your world is different. Making it past the “firsts” the first time you have to do those same old things, now that your world is different. Choosing to face the day, for whatever it may hold. Therapy comes in different ways, holding on tight or letting go. It matters not which you choose.

In the past months, as my Daddy’s illness worsened, there were more and more visits from out of town family and friends. Offers of “let me know if there is anything we can do”, came pouring in. One morning my Momma said, “When someone asks 'how can I help?’ I'm going to tell them the gutters need to be cleaned out.” We laughed over breakfast and how we all say it but what does it mean? In a few minutes however, with the help of my aunt, my wonderful husband was on a ladder doing just that, cleaning out the gutters. It made my Daddy happy. It was one of his last worries, of things he had not gotten too; “When I feel better, when I feel better” he'd say. Now His soul has found “better,” in a better place where he is released from his pain.

So now it is up to us from here on out. We will make the choices. We will choose, and those choices will be right because there is no wrong. We will find our new way. After this life changing loss there are decisions to be made, tasks to complete and steps to take to reach the next great adventure. You do what you think needs to be done...you do what you think needs to be done. The next adventure whatever it turns out to be, you need to be open to it. You have to clear away the indecision, the doubt. It may seem odd but maybe it starts with cleaning out the gutters and pulling up carpet.

My parents have two homes, my childhood home in Georgia and their home near us in Alabama. There is nothing that could mean as much to me as them being here, being able to watch my daughter grow. And they are here just for us, there are no other reasons. They left a life, family and friends they’d known for years. For my Daddy he left a stretch of land he had always called home. They moved to Alabama to be with us and because of that, I had time with my Daddy that will be more of a treasure to me than any possession could or would ever be. He was worried about moving form the country, worried about living in a neighborhood. I hope he did not lose sleep over it—because he made friends in the new neighborhood that are now like family. He was always a good neighbor. You would think he had been here forever. Some people are lucky enough to call one place home. My Daddy made home where his heart was. He was always home when he was with us. Home is what you make of it—whether it is what you have always know or what new adventure you are willing to take. So on their new adventure they moved here and for close to six years their home in Georgia the “mountain house” has been waiting—patiently waiting. Waiting for what? I did not know until yesterday. It has been waiting to be made “anew.”

Yesterday I joined a crew of family pulling up carpet and sorting through my childhood home. There was rain, and then it rained on top of that rain. At times I was not sure if I was sweating, or if I had not dried from my last trip outside. My Daddy loved to listen to the rain on the tin roof. And I spent the day in what I will now call remembrance therapy. Listening to the rain, I sort, I remember and I add to my list of things to never forget about Daddy. Add - He finds a use for everything. Add- He wanted nothing. Add- I will never forget him. Add- He kept my cards. Add- He is still surprising. We sorted and purged, we cried and laughed. Memories that are treasures—treasures that hold memories. My Daddy was a collector of odds and ends. And he put away so may little things for safe keeping. And this is where I find that therapy comes in the small things. It was like a hunt, “Oh! What is that? Oh, did I really keep that? Oh, have you seen? Oh, there it is.” There are so many things, big things, little things remembered and forgotten things. The sorting, I thought it would be harder, harder to choose whether to hold on tight or to let go. But my choice was not hard, I choose both. Let a little go to make the things I keep mean even more.

I have learned more in two weeks than my head can wrap around—coping is constant, adventures change, and blessings are sometimes unseen. I will keep adding to the list, I will hold on, I will let go. Add- he always knew when the time was right. Add-he knew what the weather was going to be. Add- He loved an Amazing woman. I love her too. Coping is constant, and my memories will be made anew.

I hope it is a long time from now, but when I next speak words to console someone during their loss, I will still be sincere—as I have always been. I will say “I'm so sorry, and I love you.” But I will do it with an understanding I wish I did not have. Pains cannot be compared, it is yours alone. But I have known hurt, and I will try to understand, I will hold their hand. And when I say “Is there anything I can do?” I hope I get to work on something like cleaning out the gutters, and pulling up carpet on the way to their next adventure… to their anew.

So Many Reasons

He loves NASCAR.
He loves classical music.
He loves mustard on his eggs.
But, most of all, he just loves.

I know this does not brush the surface of who this man is—the man I call Daddy—but it is a start. He is one of fourteen children—he understands what sharing is. He stood up to his father at age thirteen to protect his mother—he understands consequences. He stopped drinking when my mother was pregnant with me—he understands parenting by example. He was a welder by profession, which means he knows the meaning of HOT AS HELL—he understands sacrificing to provide for his family. He and my mother once borrowed money from one of her sisters to help get them back on their feet. He says he never wants to have to do that again. He and my mother opened their home to people in need in order to help them get back on their feet—he understands giving back.

Boy, oh, boy, can he tell a story! And, oh, my, does he have stories to tell! You should stick around—they are even better the second time! He can tell you what is wrong with your car. He has a green thumb—make that one-and-a-half green thumbs. He is a good neighbor—he will lend you that thing…whatever it is. He loves good food. He loves bad food. If you are a bad cook, he will eat it anyway—he would never want to hurt your feelings. When you come to his home, he never wants you to be hungry or cold. He will offer you everything he has if he thinks it will help you out. This is his gift of sharing.

He loves a woman named Brenda that he calls “Brender” when he has had enough. He is loved by Brenda more than she herself sometimes realizes. He loves a “little girl” that is not so little anymore, and I think—no, I know—that he hung the moon. He loves a dog named Gizmo that he calls “son.” My hairy little brother loves my daddy unconditionally and is by his side constantly. Daddy loves a little girl he calls “Dust Bunny.” Gretchen the “dust bunny” loves her Pop…for what she calls his “kind and gentle heart.”

And there it is. That is the thing. That is why we all love him. You cannot help but love my Daddy. His laughter is contagious, and his heart is…kind and gentle. He sees people as they are, but hopes better of them. He will give you a boost up and help you on the way back down if you fall. He laughs. He bites his tongue when others would lash out. My Daddy picks his battles.

But sometimes the battle picks you, and if you are picked…you do not back down. My Daddy is strong. This week we hold hands and cry as we face the battle ahead. As we sit on the sofa, the sun shines brightly through the window and casts long winter shadows across the living room floor. We watch the shadows creep across the floor as the afternoon passes, Daddy waiting for the pain to pass—and we cry. It is not much of a room for planning a battle—no troops to be deployed, just hands to be held, words of love to be said. The battle will not end today—not tomorrow, either—but when it ends, it will be on Daddy’s terms, we will not give up.

My Daddy has liver cancer that is non-responsive to treatment, and he has made the brave choice to face the time he has left on his own terms, not the terms of the “healing” that cancer treatment promises, and the pain and harm that the “healing” brings. He has chosen to not seek further treatment—and we cry. He is so strong. He is worried about not seeing his granddaughter, his little “dust bunny,” grow up. He is worried about leaving us all behind—and we cry.

Even today, he still calls me “little girl.” Every day of my life he has said, “I love you, little girl.” But today it comes with a little quiver in his voice and a longer hug than usual. I’m still his little girl. I will always be his little girl, which means I am lucky enough to understand what it feels like to be loved…because he loves. Knowing my Daddy’s love as a child meant that I was safe. Knowing his love as an adult means I know how to be strong and to love others. And I cry.

The evils of cancer have not come at us suddenly, but as we hold our breath, time seems to speed up. I have taken the chance to say the things that should not be left unsaid. I have had the chance to look—to really look—at the man my Daddy is, at the parent he is, and at how I am the person I am because of him. The words come…over and over I tell him every chance I get how much I love him…but I don’t think I could ever express how full my heart is. It overflows with images, my thoughts, my memories, my fear of losing him, and my love for him—for the man that now has tears in his eyes. This weight on my heart of what I want to say to him…could I ever say it all? My Daddy means the world to me. He has taken being a parent as a commission, and I have become a person he is proud of. And I know my Daddy is proud of me, because he does not let the important words go unsaid—he has told me my whole life that he is proud of me. I count that as the highest honor in this life. He is my example of love—a love that is in my eyes—a lot like how God must love us, because my Daddy does not attach conditions to his love for me or anyone…he just loves. And I cry knowing how much my Daddy means to not just me but to so many other people.

He is Phillip Stephens.
He is strong.
He loves sweets and midnight snacks.
He sings funny little songs about anything and everything…like sandwiches or flip-flops.
He hangs things on his ears to make you laugh when you are sad.
He loves.
He watches late-night TV.
He makes funny faces at my mother when she is upset.
He grows fabulous tomatoes.
He knows how to fix stuff.
He sings jingles.
He is a son.
He gives movies 1½ thumbs up.
He loves.
He does not have a middle name.
He loves seafood and hot sauce.
He says “ask your momma.”
He likes the color green.
He is a friend.
He built our home.
He is thankful.
He knows more uses for duct tape and bread ties than NASA does.
He is a Brother.
He loves.
He always has a snack with him.
He watches westerns.
He keeps marshmallows on his nightstand.
He has a story.
He is a Husband.
He has never met a hushpuppy he doesn’t like.
He gives nicknames to almost everyone.
He says “okay, you can keep it” when you bring a dog home.
He loves.
He could grow a houseplant jungle with his green thumb.
He can never remember Robert De Niro’s name.
He likes to sit in the shade.
He is tacky.
He is giving.
He tries to dance.
He cannot dance.
He is Sonny.
He loves.
He listens to rain on the roof.
He likes beets.
He laughs to defuse conflict.
He laughs because it is funny.
He is an uncle.
He has a nickel taped to the door frame so that we will never be broke.
He loves.
He is Catfish.
He is the Frito Bandito.
He can wiggle his ears.
He calls everybody “neighbor.”
He likes to take the long way home.
He loves.
He will not cross his eyes.
He loves hummingbirds.
He is a good judge of character.
He is proud of you.
He always tells you he is proud of you.
He loves.
He loves “Brender.”
He is Uncle Sonny.
He is Gizmo’s Man.
He is Pop.
He is Dust Bunny.
He is Daddy.
He is so many things to so many people.
He is a fighter.
He loves us.
He is loved.

I am so unsure of what the battle ahead holds…but I will hold his hand and tell him I love him and that we won’t give up. I will know that I am loved…that I am strong. I know this because the man that puts mustard on his eggs told me so. And I believe he always means it. He loves.

I hope that he knows how much he too is loved by this little girl. I LOVE YOU, DADDY!

Then Jesus said, “Come to me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.” Matthew 11:28

A day at the spa

I'm not sure why some things creep me out. I'm not really a girlie girl. I like lotion, have a large collection of lipstick I do not wear and I love cheap jewelry, but I don't fall to pieces over stuff..... I don't think I do anyway. But stuff creeps me out sometimes. I'm sure stuff creeps you out too.

This morning I reached the point of the Heebie Jeebie dance. You know the dance, you have done the dance. It goes something like this, you are startled by something ( insert your own fear here), after the startling you get cold chills, pinch your shoulder blades together and then squeeze your knees together only for them to bust apart in a squirm / urge to run, you may or may not achieve the run. The Heebie Jeebie dance is sometimes accompanied by a need to squeal or aghhhh. Either is fine and appropriate. The squeal will be followed by a involuntary clinching of all of your muscles, even muscles you did not know you could tighten, like the scalp, who knew. You may also feel the need to walk like Frankenstein. The Heebie Jeebie dance(should it be hyphenated?) may be proceeded by a short / long sprint if the creepy occurrence is deemed harmful.

My morning sprint was prompted by a snake.....

We have a small veggie garden in our back yard. Prior to planting this years harvest we had hopes to steam out some ants and bake their residence. We covered said garden with black plastic, thus creating a green house effect. Heres the science; heat in and it stays in, cooks the unsuspecting creatures of God and thus no need for chemical annihilation of ants. Your tomatoes will be safer.

Today was the black plastic removal day. I'm glad to report the ants are mostly gone, mostly. But the black plastic created a warm steamy spa like resort for some of God's other creatures. I have not taken my Malaria pill as of late and I hope from the rainwater collection on top of the plastic that I have not contracted some unknown and soon to be discovered illness. I stray.... the snake. You do not want to be a snake in my small spa resort veggie garden, it will not turn out well for you. I promise it will not turn out well. For those who may be members of PETA or if you are judgmental when not involved in the situation stop reading now. SPOILER ALERT.

I removed the lumber holding down the plastic and pilled back the black skin, and there in the first garden bed to be uncovered was the snake. Cue sprint and Hebbie-Jebbie dance, (I decided to go with the hyphen) exit broken gate garden right and squeal like girl at a NKTOB concert.

From a safe distance I regained composure and decided I needed back up. This is where my True Love comes in. Everyone needs someone in this world to have their back. Until my last breath he has mine, this is why I married, not so someone could kill the spiders or protect me from the bad, but so I did not have to face it alone. He is my partner in life, bless his heart. I tell my Love, that there is a snake and I need support in my daring Indiana Jones adventure. “Can I finish showering?” “Yes...” I tell Lee. This is not a clothing optional invite. I add “....and get dressed.... please”

When you talk to people about snakes, there is by chance that person that is a “live and let live activist”. That person (Rhonda) might say “It's more scared of you than you are if it.” my reply would be “it damn well better be.” I had given it time to go to it's “scared of me spot”, but it did not.... it was still there. Lee retrieved a hoe and shovel from the garage. Armed with hoe in hand, in my multi-colored pastel striped rain boots I took a few deep breaths. With encouragement from my back up I ended the existence of one of God's creatures. I had done it. I shook the hoe over my head like a Tuscan Raider in Star Wars. I shook out another chill and clinching of my shoulder blades at what I had done. All this for veggies.

Que second Hebbie- Jebbie dance. Because there was one big-ass spider crawling out from under the cozy black spa over there. It is going down. Why does it not see that I have a shovel? Spread the word spider. Scurry. There is no “Welcome to my Garden” sign.

I will let you know when I have too many tomatoes.

Staying in the middle.

I received the best Mother's Day gift EVER. A trampoline! My legs are sore and my laundry is not done, but I have had the time of my life the past few days. Don't tell my mom, she will be worried I will break something

The Trampoline....the perfect gift it is. I know that sounds like Yoda but if you have ever jumped on one I'm sure you understand. We put the trampoline together, spring by spring until it was finished . I had to take a quick jump before we put the enclosure on the base. It was everything it should be....it got my stomach, like driving over a hill to fast. The mesh smelt of baby dolls at Christmas. My feet left the springy black mesh and returned again and again like I had always imagined. Aww...but after the puppies and daisies of my wishes fulfilled I must tell the rest of the story.

For those of you who do not have kids or have not even thought about a trampoline in years, an enclosure is now what is available to safe guard yourself from falling into harms way while jumping. You can flail about like a fool and still (hopefully) remain safe and snug on the black mesh cloud of childhood dreams. So here we go, we open the box of the Sky walker Safety enclosure and ....... 1.) there are no instructions, yes we read instructions, 2.) there is no netting.... that would be the safety I had promised myself and my child. I'm like a participant of “Circus of the Stars”, I need NETTING. I can't daily sport a cast in my real life. Why is it not all here?.......

I have a few words for people that return USED things to a store thinking the are going to stick it to the man, or sneak one by and put themselves a few dollars ahead.....SHAME ON YOU, SHAME, SHAME, SHAME.. Shame on you for stealing my netting and trying to pass off a few duck taped foam guards and still getting your money back. You are not sticking to the man you are sticking it to the next unsuspecting person that happens to purchase you shamefully returned goods. The next unsuspecting person would be me and the goods would be my Mother's Day present. SHAME.

The shameful person will not know that now, I HAVE TO JUMP IN THE MIDDLE! I have to be supervised! And for the next few days until a replacement enclosure is found I have to be afraid of taking a spill after a perfectly executed toe touch or butt bounce.... what the heck. AGGGH, they will never know! and wherever they are with MY netting I hope they are safe.... so safe that they jump close to the edge and.....will still be OK, because that is how I roll, I hope they are safe...so there. Take that.

But to repeat, I have had the time of my life the past few days. I love my mesh cloud of childhood dreams and I love my husband for realizing I'm mature enough to jump in the middle... and for that I thank him.

And come on over and jump... just stay in the middle for now.