A blessed day

Yesterday our friend Swaran became a citizen of the United States. He has been waiting for more than 10 years to become a citizen, and yesterday, along with 104 others representing 49 countries, he took his oath.

He filed papers, hired a lawyer, spent thousands of dollars, and many hundreds of hours of time to achieve this dream of citizenship.

He has told us horrible stories of police brutality, and corruption in India that we cannot even imagine. 

It was an honor for me to witness the ceremony, and I took Sean with me. I don't think there was one person in the room more excited than Swaran to become a citizen of this country.

This Thanksgiving will be special. Thanksgiving will be his first truly American holiday as an American.

Swaran believes in working hard. He has told me, "money comes and goes, but we have to work hard always."  He believes that when you have faith in God, and live according to the way God wants, you will succeed. He believes that being honest and righteous are principals to live by. He believes it is a man's duty to take care of his family, no matter what. While we all whine about the economy, he believes this is still the land of opportunity, and even in hard times we still have a good life. He readily admits that it costs a lot to live in this country, but he also says we don't realize how good we have it. 

A lot of people complain about immigrants, I say we should learn by watching them. I feel lazy when I talk to Swaran and hear how many hours he works each day. He is willing to do whatever it takes to earn a living. In his country, he has a college degree. In ours, he drives a taxi. 

"Marsha, you are so blessed to be born in this country," he says to me, "you peoples do not understand how easy you have it here."

My mother would have been so happy for him. She spent a lot of time contacting government officials to get answers for each step of the process for him. She was determined to help Swaran and his family have a better life. I wish she could have been there.

Congratulations Swaran, my fellow American!

P.S. He looks a bit crumpled because Sean had climbed all over him prior to this photo. I should have had him straighten his tie, but there were about 104 other people waiting to get this same shot. 

Catching up

My girl is 22 years old now. This picture was taken by my oldest son David, while they were at a street festival in Asheville this summer. She's a pistol, in case you couldn't tell from this photo ;-)
Happy Birthday Jewel!!

I have a  few things to catch up on because I haven't been able to blog much lately.

Family
Well, what can I say? Isn't everyone's family a little crazy?
It's Nov. 16, and I don't think anyone has a plan for Thanksgiving. I think no plan means we don't really want to have a plan. So I PLAN to have some turkey and stuffing and some damn sweet potatoes, and if anyone wants to come to the table they can.


Julia
Thank you to everyone who is continuing to pray for Julia. I spoke with her Friday night. The surgery was successful, and the internal bleeding was repaired. She is going in for another minor surgery soon, to insert a port that will make it easier for her to get infusions.
Please continue to keep her in your prayers.
She will likely begin chemo again after the holidays.

Friends
I have some really good friends. Scott is someone I met in the summer, and he has been such a generous and kind friend. Whenever I need some help with ANYTHING, I just call.
I was so bent and broken a couple of months ago. I was in pain and my shoulder and back were completely messed up. I put up with it for about a week or so, then the pain was so much that I was in tears. I was going on no sleep because I couldn't get comfortable, and I was in constant pain. I called Scott, and said, "I need help. I don't know what to do, but I can't go on like this."
I don't have health insurance, and at the time I had just started my job and had no money. Scott hooked me up with the most incredible massage therapist. If you're ever in Gig Harbor and need a massage, I know THE guy.
Scott has bailed me out when my computer failed me, and he has been there to listen to me go on and on when I've whined about all my work troubles. He understands. He's an editor too. He gave us an electric keyboard when I signed Sean up for piano lessons, and he has been my personal bank when I've needed a loan. I could go on and on. He's a great friend. I'm blessed to have so many.
Bill is a new friend. We've made a very deep connection, and it feels like we've known each other for a really long time.
Both of these guys are just friends to me. Both are married. I thank God for bringing them into my life.

Church
Our choir sang the most inspiring and uplifting rendition of "Leaning on the Everlasting Arms" today. I was almost moved to tears, and the entire congregation responded by giving them a standing ovation. I was a Presbyterian for about 20 years, and we don't typically applaud or anything after a song, or performance during a church service. It's a big deal for me to start clapping, but today I felt completely moved to stand and applaud them.
The Iraqi refugee family will be coming soon. Our church decided to allow them to live in our parsonage until they get on their feet, and an entire estate of furniture and kitchen supplies have been donated to fill the home. We will be moving it all in next weekend. I'm not sure when the family will arrive.
For those of you who don't know, the husband of this family was working with our military in Iraq when he was murdered. Our church wanted to sponsor an Iraqi refugee family, and the Lord has sent them to us.

Work
I'm working non-stop, and it is a challenging job. I learn new things each day, and I can feel the direction of the paper shifting. Change is always a bit scary, but I really think I can make a difference. It will take time, and I hope everyone will be patient enough to wait. I'm in the middle of deadline right now, waiting for everyone to turn in stories for me to edit and get to the paginator.

And with that, I'm on to the next story...

Veteran's Day

To everyone who has served our country: Thank You!

Julia and her dad

This picture was taken in October. Bill sent this to me after our interview. He was on location in Seattle for his part in the movie, "The Whole Truth," and this picture was taken after a long day of work.
I got word from Bill tonight that Julia has been admitted to the hospital. I can't express how heavy my heart is for this family. I will be praying for them tonight, and I plan to stop by the hospital in the morning.
I have not met her young boys yet, but I feel so deeply for them. I know the pain of watching my mother struggle with her illness, but I don't know their pain. They are so young.
Please pray for them.

Praying for Julia

Julia is a special person; someone I know I was meant to meet. I first made contact with her father for a story about being an actor, and during our telephone interview it became obvious that he would be a person in my life. Sometimes I meet people in this business and never see them again. Other times I maintain a level of contact, usually as a source of information for future stories, etc. This man was different. Though I have no doubt he will be a wonderful resource for information, we have formed a bond through our faith.
But it was through talking with him about his family that I came to understand that we were connected by a disease. Cancer.
My mother passed away in December 2007 of cancer. His daughter has cancer.
He told me he sent his daughter on a "Make a Wish," trip to Graceland. He sent me pictures of her with Elvis memorabilia, and a slide show he made of her trip.
My mother's celebration of life was an Elvis party. My mother enjoyed Elvis music, and had quite a few Elvis items given to her over the years that we displayed at the party.
I realized God was telling me to meet this woman. Go talk to her. Write about her.
It is tough to write about these things. Not because they are emotional stories, but because I never want to exploit people. I thought about it for more than a week.
I spoke with her about writing a story, and asked her what she thought it should say.
She said, "how it (cancer) gives you a reason to live."
Julia is dying. She is young and has two boys. And she is an incredible person. Her strength amazes me.
She is dealing with more than cancer, because cancer takes over. It doesn't just take over a body, it takes over everyone around the person who has cancer. As anyone can imagine, each person deals with the pain in different ways.
I won't reveal her personal story here. I am still writing the story. But I will ask that anyone who sees this post please pray for her, for her boys, for her parents, her brothers, and for everyone who loves her.

It's the Great Pumpkin

I watched "It's the Great Pumpkin Charlie Brown" tonight with Sean. We have it on video, but it was fun to watch it on TV too. We found this pumpkin about four years ago on sale at Big Lots, and we put it up each year. We call it our Great Pumpkin. The photo was taken the year we got it, and Sean was a great ghost that year.

Seems like yesterday

These two gobblins were ready to go in 1987. Both of these costumes were homemade. I made the jack-o-lantern from a pattern, and the princess costume was put together from some dance outfit I had left over from the high school jazz team uniform I wore.

It's almost time to get out those pillow cases as back up for when you're little bucket gets full.
My brother and I used to go all over Carter County on Halloween night. My Mom would drive us, but we tried to get home before very late. Some years it was scary. One night the spooks had trapped a Sheriff's deputy in his car by cutting down a tree that fell across the little country road. They waited for him to get to the scene, and cut one and let it drop behind his car. We listened to this on our scanner (yes, we had one back in the 1970s) and when the deputy would get out of his cruiser to try and clear the debris, they would start shooting at him.
Just another Halloween night in redneck country.

Autumn traditions

For a couple of years, we made a pilgrimage to get apples and go to a pumpkin patch in Leavenworth each fall. It was fun, and made for a nice day away.
This photo is from 2005, I think. I have other photos I will post throughout the month of October, although they may be bunched into a posting this weekend because deadline is coming next week.

Fall favorites

I have a new job, and it is deadline driven, so I find myself thinking ahead and scheduling a trip to choose costumes, and a pumpkin.
I wish I had taken my camera along to a Fiber Arts Festival today. There were quite a few yarn spinners, and other talented artisans. A costume designer had some people wearing costumes from the play, "Cinderella."

I met a woman who has 60 Alpacas on her 20-acre farm, and she shears them, processes the wool, and sells the material. It feels exquisite.

Make no mistake, I don't have time to delve into fiber arts myself. I will be writing about it. As the saying goes, those who can, do, those who can't, write about it.

It's a style thing

Something has been bothering me for a while now, and I need to get it out. I am a lover of words, and I tend to really like all of them. No matter how large or small, I love them.

On more than a few occasions, I have read magazines and newspapers, and I have seen a misused. I don't understand how this can happen in national, and reputable publications. I realize we are all human beings, even the editors, and we all make mistakes, but this recent observation of mine has me troubled.

It seems that we have thrown the rules out the window, and let's face it, we need rules. No matter what your line of work, you need at least a few rules.

In the world of print journalism, we use a book filled with rules on how to use and spell certain words. This book is always by our side. Sometimes it is under a stack of press releases, or other reporter clutter, but we cannot function without this book. (I think in most newsrooms it is now on the computer, but still, we use it.)

This book I refer to is one thing that keeps us all sane in this crazy business - The Associated Press STYLEBOOK and Libel Manual.

Now, unless the AP STYLEBOOK has been revised and I'm just not aware of it, here are the rules stated for a, and an. (It's the very first thing under A, so you can't miss it.)

Use the article a before consonant sounds: a historic event, a one-year term. See, even though the word "one" begins with a vowel, it sounds like a "w" which is a consonant.

Moving on to an: Use the article an before vowel sounds: an energy crisis, an honorable man. That word honorable begins with a consonant, but the h is silent, therefore it sounds like it begins with a vowel- o.

We will continue with an because it seems some writers are ignoring this wonderful little article: an NBA record. That sounds like it begins with the letter e. an 1890s celebration.

I like an. A has it's place, but I like to use an before a word that begins with a vowel. I don't like it when I am reading something enjoyable, and then I come upon the a before a word like outing.
"We are going on a outing." Ugh. I don't like that. Doesn't that sound so blunt and harsh to say a, when it clearly should be an?

Maybe it's just me.

Happy First Day of Fall

Tomorrow is the first day of fall, and I've decided to celebrate by decorating my blog page.

Autumn is my favorite time of year.
I'm one of those people who decorates for every season and holiday. Right now I don't have time to focus on doing that in my home, as I've taken a new job and it is consuming me. I was at my desk by 8:30 a.m. yesterday, and sent my last email at around midnight.

I will miss the trips to the beach, the warm sun and the lift of spirit it has provided this month. (You may not understand, but we live in a fog bank for 8 to 9 months out of the year. I had the furnace on in July. I'm not kidding.)
So here's to crisp evenings, apple cider, pumpkin patches and football! And that mist I refer to in my blog title. :~(

Forks and Other Things With Feelings

I had a Yoga and meditation class a long time ago. It feels like a lifetime ago, but there are a lot of things that stuck with me.

Being mindful of everything you do can change your life. The teacher, or leader, gave examples of this. Things like the way you set your fork down beside your plate. If you are fully aware of the fork, and the table, and where you want the fork to be, you will place it gently, and purposefully.

I've tossed things over the years, and afterward felt like I should have been more aware. Maybe this sounds silly, but it can be a good exercise to train you to be fully in the moment.

I wonder, are we tossing the people in our lives? Do you spend real time with your family and friends? I see so many people out to lunch, and everyone is on a cell phone. It makes me wonder why they 1. didn't invite the people on the phones, or 2. even wanted to have lunch together.

When you have a conversation with someone in your family, or someone you live with, do you make eye contact? Do you really listen to them? I can't remember the title, but I saw a play about an entire family who never looked at each other. Throughout the play, they had conversations, and people came and went from the home, and none of them ever made eye contact.

How do we treat the people we see each day? Do we smile? Do we even notice some of them?

Ever had a complete stranger smile at you? Not a creepy smile, but a genuine smile. It can give you a lift. Try it out on someone. Now, imagine getting that from a loved one or friend. A genuine, in the moment, fully-aware-of-you smile, or maybe even a hug.

Tomorrow is a busy day for me, but I am going to call at least one family member just to say hello. I'm going to smile at a stranger, and try to be present and aware of everything I am doing.
And when I set the table, I'm going to be fully aware of the fork in my hand, the table, and where I want the fork to be. We're going to sit down to eat, and I'm going to look my little boy in the eyes and ask him to tell me about his day and savor every word.

Powerful Prayer

I have always been full of questions. Even as a little kid, I wondered where God came from. I remember my Mom was so concerned about getting this question answered that she had some lady come to our house and try to explain it to me. I must have been about 5 years old. She talked about a big circle, and it didn't make any sense to me. I came out of that with more questions. Hmm. I guess it makes sense that I'm a Journalist.

I believe in God, and I believe in prayer. I have always felt that prayer was a way of keeping the relationship going with God, not necessarily a way to get what I wanted. In fact, I've never asked for anything I felt would be trivial, such as a car, or some other material thing.

I know these days that stuff about "intention," and being able to get what you want in your life by thinking it, is all very big and popular. Generally, I believe that having a positive attitude, and goals is the way to attain a good life. But I'm skeptical, because that is just how I am. Plus, I don't think God intends for everyone to be able to do this.

I mean really, can you imagine some bushman in Africa thinking, "Oh, if I can just visualize that life with a nice house, a picket fence, a big SUV in the driveway, and private school for my kids, I can have it."
Get real.

Now I'm reading this book called "Meditation as Medicine," and it has me thinking on such a different level that I can't even put into words exactly what I'm thinking about prayer.
I'm not what I would call stupid, but I'm not really on the genius level either. I'm somewhere in the middle. From this book, and another one I've read "The Heart's Code," (both written by doctors) I am starting to see that we really are all connected to everything. I mean everything.

We respond to vibrations, and our bodies can actually benefit from certain sounds and vibrations. And I think we communicate this way, on a primal level, without even knowing it sometimes. Think of how we say things like, "You could cut the tension in that room with a knife." Granted, some are better at picking up on the vibrations than others.

There have been experiments done on this. Our cells, our tiny cells in our bodies, have memories. I'm getting too deep for my own good here. I'll move on.

At one point, a very low point, I was praying all day and into the night. No kidding. I prayed while I took a shower, cooked a meal, did the laundry. Basically, unless I was in conversation with someone, or playing with my little boy, or sleeping, I was praying.

I prayed that God would lead me to the right people to help me with a legal situation. I prayed for strength, patience, understanding, and wisdom. I prayed that if something needed to be said, that God would give me the words to say it. And if nothing needed to be said, that God would help me to be silent.

This worked.

Recently I said a prayer; a heartfelt, heartsick prayer. I prayed for one simple thing. The situation was such that I could've prayed for a total turnaround so that everything was great again. I didn't. I tried to get to the very heart of what I truly needed just at that moment. So I prayed only that someone would feel the love of God on their heart, soften, and have the clarity of mind to respond, and make one phone call.

And she did.

It's Been Seven Years

It's the date of our generation. Nine eleven. 9-11. September 11. 911. I wasn't born yet when Kennedy was shot, but I remember my Mom talking about where she was when she heard the news. I wasn't around when Martin Luther King, Jr. was murdered either.

I understood the gravity of those events, in the only way someone who wasn't there can. I remember where I was when I heard that Elvis died. I know that sounds trivial compared to 9-11, but for some reason, I remember that. I was very young, but it was a big deal to me. I liked his music, but my Mom really liked it, so I knew that it meant more to her. I don't remember the date though.

I was working at a newspaper Sept. 11, 2001. I got up to get ready for work just like every other day, and was in the shower when I heard a shout from outside the door.

"A plane just crashed into the World Trade Center in New York! It's on TV!"

I hurried to finish my shower. By the time I got downstairs, we stared at the screen and watched as the second plane hit. I was still confused, I just didn't understand what the hell was going on. It took a moment for me to comprehend that this was NOT an accident. This was intentional, and I was in shock. My head was spinning with questions, and I was weak.

I remember asking out loud, "Am I supposed to go to work, I mean, what are we supposed to do?"

I did go to work. We worked, but it was so surreal, and it felt stupid to call people and do interviews for stories about local news. I think most of the day was spent checking the AP wire, and speculating about what was going on. The newsroom was a strange place to be that day, but as a journalist, it was the place I wanted to be. I didn't want to be alone, and I had to know what was going on.

We each got a copy of the front page with a huge banner headline in some enormous font size, while the news unfolded that we were under attack, and it all came together. Pennsylvania, the Pentagon, and New York.

In the next few days and weeks the newsroom got calls about local people who wanted to help.

We got a call that some school kids in my coverage area had started collecting pennies at their school for the kids in New York. Of course every school was doing something in response to the disaster. I wrote stories on ladies who were making patriotic hats and donating money from the sales. Everyone wanted to help. Everyone I talked to said they wanted to go to Ground Zero to do anything they could.

It was such a great feeling to know that everyone - EVERYONE - was united in the United States of America.

I will always remember the way our country rallied, and unified. Remember all of the flags? I had one in my car for a long time. I went around our neighborhood and took loads of pictures of everyone's flags flying, taped to their car windows, or nailed to garage doors. Some were mounted on pickup trucks, and I remember one on a Harley that was so huge I thought it would surely get caught in the back wheel. Seeing that Harley with the flag billowing behind brought tears to my eyes.

This generation will never forget, and we'll tell our children and grandchildren where we were when we heard or saw the news. I just pray they will only have a vague understanding of it, and that they won't have a date of their generation.

Things Explained by a Boy Who is Six

We were driving one day, and I said that I had a song stuck in my head and I didn't know why. I didn't even really like the song.
Sean said, "It's stuck in your head because your head takes pictures of things. Like if you saw a Thirth Avenue on a sign, it will make you remember 30,31,32,33, and things that start with three."

Ruined?

The whole country is buzzing about a 17-year-old girl who is pregnant, (Sarah Palin's daughter) and I heard someone say "not just her life has been ruined, but the poor young boyfriend's life is ruined as well."



I had my first baby at age 17.

I believe that it is always difficult to be thrust into an adult world when one is so young. These two young people have a future filled with challenges, because that is what happens when you have a child. To have a child and not even have finished your education presents tougher challenges, to be sure.

However, I have to argue with the word "ruined." I am a living example that the decision to have a child does not ruin your life. I have my opinions about the services that should be available to those who choose to have a child when they weren't planning to do so. And yes, I believe there are some people out there, no matter how old they are, who shouldn't be having kids at all. They aren't equipped to do it, and have no interest in trying to do what it takes to learn how to be a good parent.

I was blessed. The circumstances surrounding my pregnancy couldn't have been better, really. I was able to marry the father of the baby, and then had another child with him. He was a responsible person, and had a job. His family totally supported us, and loved us. They welcomed me into their family, and I couldn't have asked for better in-laws. We divorced after five years into it, largely because I was just too young when we got married, and had no idea what I wanted, or what I was getting into.

I admit it was hard. Being 17, and a stay-at-home Mom was not easy. There are all sorts of social problems that come into play. Young mothers are disrespected by other Moms who are of Mom age, and by professionals as well. When the kids started school, I was treated like the oddball, and not really accepted by the PTA members or the little clicks of Moms.

None of that felt very good. I was always the outsider. But my life wasn't ruined.

I was determined to be the best Mom I could be. I read everything, watched television shows dedicated to child-rearing and pulled from the knowledge I gained from the way I was raised as well. While none of this was perfect, and I now realize some of it was actually wrong, I still had the dedication and desire to be a good mother.

And I was lucky. I was able to finish high school with the rest of my class. Within a couple of years, I started college. Eventually (it did take me a while) I got my degree, and started on a career path.

Though I wouldn't call my life a charmed life, or even a financially stable one, it wasn't ruined.

So I think about this word "ruined," and I wonder what it would really take to ruin a life.

There are some awful things that happen in this world, and they may come close to "ruining" a life, but I still see hope. Everything is a process, and I believe that with help, people can work through things.

I can tell you that the birth of my children was not something that ruined my life. They have each brought joy and love to my life, even when they do things that make me irritated, and I don't like some of their choices.

So I wish this young lady every bit of luck in the world, and I pray that she truly has the support of her family, and the young man in her life. She will be doing this in a spotlight, and having a baby so young isn't easy. But will it ruin your life? I don't think so.

Montessori Days

It's back to school time, and I'm excited. This will be Sean's third year in a Montessori school, and I have been so pleased with our experience. No school is perfect, but from the first day I have felt totally at ease leaving him in their care.

I love the curriculum, and it fits him for now. I take it year by year. The school he attends goes beyond Primary (3-6 years old) so our options are open as long as I can continue to afford it, and he continues to fit with it.

He has Spanish twice a week, PE, and art.
He also started his first piano lesson today, something that is offered through the school. Next month he will start his second year of Chinese.
Have I said I really like this school??


The only photo I could get of the first day back at school. Thanks Gwennie, for the cool Spider-Man lunch bag.
I snapped this picture before he realized I had the camera, and that was it, no more pictures. This is part of Sean's classroom, and he is celebrating his birthday with a Birthday Circle.

The Birthday Circle Celebration is really fun. We started out with a poster that we put together with pictures of Sean from each year, and he and I both talked about what he was doing, and what he liked, etc. during each stage of his life.

The teacher prepares the circle with a cloth, a candle in the middle, and the names of each month on cards around the circle. The one celebrating a birthday begins on their birth month and walks around the "sun" which is the candle, with the Earth, which is the globe. They walk around for each year they have celebrated. Then the teacher brings out the magic box that plays "Happy Birthday," and the birthday child chooses if they want to have the class sing. (Sean chose not to.)

That was a very hectic day for me, and I felt like I needed a body suit with a big S stitched on the front, and a flowing cape. I was running from his school, to an event I had to write about, back to his school for the Birthday Circle, and then home to write a story and turn in before Noon. And I made it, with a few minutes to spare.

Summer Snaps

Though it is still technically summer, it is over for us. We've had some fun times. Here are a few highlights.

We saw this guy on the rocks at the sand spit as we were leaving one day. Sean really wanted to catch him and bring him home, but they're really quick.

We went on a Mission trip with our church this summer, to help out a church at Ocean Shores. Sean helped get the walls ready for painting in the church office.

One of our favorite summer activities is going to the beach. Sean tried "surfing" this year with his Spider Man surf board.

Future helicopter pilot? Maybe. We had a lot of fun at the McChord Air Expo in July.

We love living here. There are so many things to discover and explore.

Working in a Romper Room

This summer has been quite an adventure. I am doing some freelance work, and my 6-year-old son is here with me every day. He is old enough to know when I say "I'm on the phone, I'm working," that it means to be as quiet as possible.

But he is 6.

I'm a different person now than I was when I had my first baby, but I generally have the same ideas about raising children. I want my children to be who they are meant to be, without me messing it up. (An impossible dream, I've come to realize.) I am more relaxed than I used to be, and I've learned a lot more about children than was available the first time around. I know that I make mistakes every day, but I try hard to be a good Mom.

We have a full set of drums, a piano, a guitar, Nerf guns, and a lot of toys around the house.
I've had Nerf bullets whiz past my head several times today while writing a story.
In years past, I would've been very upset by this. Now I just duck my head and keep typing, gently reminding him that I am working, and I can't work with incoming fire.

There have been times when I have been doing a telephone interview for a story, and Sean has started a drum riff. I put people on hold so I can say "cut," and have him go outside, and play drums later.

He routinely comes to me while I'm on the phone, and whispers his requests, trying to be quiet because Mom is working. "Mom," he whispers while I am writing furiously by hand to take notes on a notepad, and listen intently to the person on the other end of the phone, "I'm not trying to bother you, but I can't find my bullet. Did you see where it went? Can you help me find it?"

Or he will climb, literally, for all you people out there with no children, or those who have girls, he will CLIMB the cabinets to reach the top one where I keep the treats. "I'm getting a snack," he'll say as I'm trying to watch to be sure he doesn't fall, and also conduct an interview on the telephone.

How do I keep my sanity? How do I do this work without a stiff drink in my hand you ask?
Well, I'm not quite sure. I just know that someday he won't be coming to me to whisper in my ear, and he won't be climbing the cabinets. The days of Nerf bullets will be gone, and he won't really care if I listen to him play the drums.

He'll grow up, and this will all be what I miss most. I know that, and I feel blessed to work in this romper room.

Special Connections

People cross our paths every day, and we don't remember most of them. Some stand out for whatever reason - maybe because of a facial feature or something they are wearing.

Even the people we formally meet can fade into the past. I have had friends who are no longer a part of my life. They have just faded away. Some for good reasons, others, just because there was nothing left to talk about.

I have been so blessed to have some very special people come into my life, and stay.
One of those people is Jim Nave.

I call him Nave. (pronounced Navay because I cannot find the mark to go on top of the e.)
He was the first to come into my life and stay. The story of how we met and became friends is quite interesting. This is a very short version.

A friend (who has faded) invited me to a cast party at his home. Nave was there. I can't describe in this post how intense this meeting was. I remember he held my thumb, and it seemed like the rest of the room was fuzzy. There were people there, but he was the only person who was really in-focus. We talked, we went for a walk, and I remember sitting on a low brick or rock wall not far from my friend's house, talking.

Nave was living in another state, and we struck up a pen pal relationship. I visited him, and a relationship was born. Over the years (17, I think now - WOW) I have felt a special connection with him. For many years, whenever I was having a really hard time, a bad day, or just felt glum, I would find a letter from Nave in the mailbox. It always included some exotic post mark, and wonderful descriptions of where he was at that very moment.

Nave is a poet, and a performer, and teaches writing workshops all over the world. You can find out more about that here. He rubs elbows with some of the famous people, and it reminds me of how small the world really is when I read about his adventures. Here's this man who knows a lot of people with recognizable names, and he knows me too- this Southern Girl just trying to make it all count somehow in the Northwest.

And he has written a poem about me. View it here and click on poetry, it's the one called The Ghost of Sam Cooke.

"The Shack"

"The Shack" by William P. Young

Let me begin by saying this is not a book I would've noticed. I'm a reader, but these days, unless it is already on my bookshelf, it isn't likely to be in my hand.
I am bank-account-challenged right now, and a trip to the library means a trip to the children's section. By the time we're finished there, I'm ready to go.
So this book came to me through someone else, who insisted that I MUST read it.

I wish I had written it.

"The Shack" is about God and His relationship with us.
Mack is struggling with his relationship with God because his little girl was kidnapped and killed by a serial killer. That is revealed early in the book, so I'm not giving anything away here.

If you don't believe in God, read it anyway.
This book made me laugh, it made me cry, and it helped me know that there are other people, or at least one, who think of God the way I do.
If you are struggling in your faith, or you just don't quite know what this world is all about, read this book. If you are having trouble forgiving someone, this book can lead the way.

Whether you agree with it or not, I believe the basic message of "The Shack" will touch you in places so deep you will be forced to look at things in a different way.
It challenged some of my ideas about how the world works, and how it should work. I am a person who can almost always see the other person's view and understand why they think the way they do - that doesn't mean I agree with them.

But this book nudged me, it whispered that I should look deeper, to try to see "bad" people in a different way.

If this book challenges your ideas, please, keep reading.
If it disturbs you, please, keep reading.
When you're finished, leave me a comment here. I'd love to hear what you think.
Visit theshackbook.com to get more info.

A Boy's Life

This is the best picture I could get of all four boys playing at the park. None of them like cameras. This was taken at Sean's birthday party.

Happy Birthday to Sean

Today is Sean's 6th birthday. We celebrated his birthday on Friday afternoon with a party at the park. He had a few friends there, and some family. It has gotten more difficult to get a good picture of him, because he doesn't like pictures. He says he is "camera shy."

I made his cake, and got a Spider Man decoration from our local grocery store bakery. Sean helped put the icing on, in case you thought I had been hitting the rum.
He had a Spider Man party, complete with Spider Man masks for all the kids.

I had looked for ideas online, and the parties I liked were very involved and would've required not only more money than I had, but time as well. The park was great. We reserved a spot ahead of time, and the day was perfect for it. The kids ran and had a great time, and there is a playground there as well.

Sean was 9 weeks early, and spent 3 1/2 weeks in the NICU. He has consistently been about 2 months behind his peers, so I've never gotten really focused on all those milestone things. I remember how scared I was when he was born, and I thank God every day that I have a happy, healthy boy!

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I am a writer. I've been a journalist for a long time, and when I first started out in this business - well, let's just say it is different now.

I am in the midst of a very serious story, and it involves a fatality. Someone from the area where I live was killed in another state, so some information was available from the newspaper in that state.

When I got online to view that news story, I scrolled through to read the comments posted by readers. It used to be that a reader who wanted to comment on a topic, or a story, had to write a letter to the editor. At the newspapers I have worked, that letter also had to include a valid telephone number, and the full name of the person writing the letter. If either of those things were missing, or turned out to be bogus, the letter didn't run in the paper.

As I read what turned out to be a brief (very short story) about this incident, and then read the comments people had left below it, I literally felt sick. The story was about a tragic fatality, and the comments ranged from blaming the deceased, to rants on politics and taxes in the local community - and even degenerated into scathing remarks that went on and on between the people leaving comments.

I believe that newspapers have to change in order to retain and add readers, but I'm not so sure that people should be allowed to just click and spew. I think I liked it better when it took a little more effort to make a comment, and the comment had a full name attached to it.

Blast From My Past

Do you remember Pop Rocks? I didn't even know this candy was still around. We found some the other day, and now Sean is all about Pop Rocks. I had forgotten how messy it is. It's difficult to eat, and the tiny rocks drop onto the floor and make sticky spots. But what fun! We've been listening to each other "pop" and we've both had some pretty powerful rocks that leave a sting on the tongue.
We had three flavors - strawberry, watermelon, and tropical punch.

Happy Birthday to Karen

Today is Karen's Birthday. Karen and I met in college, and have been friends for a very long time. We have shared some of life's most hilarious moments, and some of the really rotten moments too.
We've both had some bad birthday stories to tell, and I am hoping that this year she will have a great birthday story for me.
It has been a really long time since we've been around for each other's birthdays. I wish I could be there Karen! Have a Happy Birthday!!!

When God Knocks, Will You Answer

Radical hospitality.
Hospitality is something that just comes naturally to Southerners. If you want some lessons on hospitality, go to the South and knock on someone's door. See what happens. Likely, you'll stay for at least half the day, have at least one meal, and be urged to stay longer. Every time you get ready to leave, you'll hear, "What's yer hurry? Why, just stay with us."
You can spend more than an hour just trying to leave. Just when you think you're on your way, they will start to tell you a story about one of their kin, or a neighbor's troubles. Chances are, you'll have your arms full of leftovers too.
So our church has a vision, and it includes Radical Hospitality as a sign of a healthy Christian church. Some of the people in our church have made a decision to stop talking about Christian discipleship and do something. After some discussion, and formal meetings with people who can make things happen, our church has received a request from United Methodist Core of Overseas Relief and Church World Service to help an Iraqi refugee family settle here. They will be arriving in Washington soon. They have been living as refugees in Jordan, and have had surgeries to remove broken glass from their bodies.
I am praying that we will all show them a Southern style of hospitality, and make them feel so welcome and accepted that they see the reflection of God in us all.
Now, sing along with me -What the world needs now, is love, sweet love, no not just for some, but for everyone.

Boys of Summer

It was so hot yesterday, I turned on the sprinkler and my least 'un and his friend across the street had some fun cooling off.
There are few things in the world that get me more fired up than seeing a person, or group of people being oppressed or mistreated. I've had a hard time with the Olympic games since it was announced that the games were being held in China. I have nothing against anyone who is from China, but I have strong opinions about China's government. I also have strong opinions about our own, and the fact we import so many things from China that have been dangerous for the people of the United States.
I'm working on a story about a program that gets Bibles into China. If you are a Christian, or of any other religious belief, and you live in a country where you can freely practice your religion, please take a moment to offer up a prayer of thanksgiving.
As I get more confirmed information, I will be sharing it here.
Here's a quote from Sojourners.com
"In the Olympic Village, you can find religious freedom. Maybe some foreigners can worship. ... But I tell you, the real crisis in China now is that there are no reformers left. The power struggle among the leadership is for power, not reform. To have real political reform, they would lose their power.
- Fan Yafeng, a law professor at the Institute of Law at the Chinese Academy of Social Sciences and a leader of an unregistered house church. (Source: The Washington Post)

Hot, hot, hot

It was already warm at 8 a.m. I know to the rest of the country this is no big deal, but the temperature is supposed to be at least 88 degrees today, and possibly higher. They (weather people) expect the current records to be broken today.
My Dahlias are drooping.
I got out early and mowed the dandelions in the front yard. The grass is mostly dead.
When I was finished, I had a large glass of sweet iced tea. Ohhh, there's nothing like it.
We have an electric mower, and though the long electrical cord does get in the way sometimes, I prefer electric.
I don't have to do much to take care of it, and I don't have to buy gas to mow my yard.
Oh, and our gas has dipped just below $4 now. Some places as low as $3.95!! Oooh, somebody has to be loosing some money on that deal, eh?

When Do We Become Wise?

"I guess when you're a baby you can hear God, but then when you know everything, you can't hear Him anymore."
This little gem of a thought came from my almost 6-year-old little boy. He blurts out these things in quiet moments. It's amazing what goes through a child's mind. I love hearing his perspective on the world.
He also told me, "When you try so hard, that's when you get into trouble."
Wow.
He told me a few years ago that he was in Heaven with God first, then he was born here. He still talks about when he was in Heaven.
My mother passed away in December. He loves to talk about her, and one day I said something reminded me of her, and it made me a little sad.
"Why?" he asked. "Mom, she's fine."
He has a friend across the street who is mean sometimes. One day he was telling me about some of the mean things the friend had done and said to him. I listened as he told me all of those things. I made some comment like, "Wow, that doesn't sound very nice."
"I just have to remember that God loves me," he said, "and He loves him too."

drip drop

We live in a part of the United States that gets quite a bit of rain. We're not too far from Seattle. Believe it or not, there has been such a dry spell that we've had a burn ban, but today it rained. Hard.
My friend Karen has been prodding me to start a blog. I'm doing this one as an experiment. I'm sort of a private person, so I wasn't sure what I would write, or if I would even want to post pictures.
Another friend of mine tried to start a blog and ran into trouble, so I'm trying it out to see if the same thing happens to me.
I'm going to ramble about some things.
We like a brand of fruit preserves - Danish Orchards. I've bought it for years. Then one day I was in Costco and saw a good deal on some jelly. You know how that goes. That stuff lasted for months and months.
For those of you who are actually reading this and don't know, Danish Orchards came in a little blue tub with a white handle. Part of its charm was that you were getting a tiny little bucket. Once we had eaten all of the preserves, I washed the tub out and we used those cute little tubs for all sorts of projects. Namely fruit picking. We have picked huckleberries, cherries, and raspberries with those, and they are just the right size.
So we finally ran out of the jelly I bought at Costco, and I decided to buy Danish Orchards again.
They changed the tub! There is no cute little handle anymore. Oh, they put a really pretty picture of fruits on the lid, but there is no handle.
I've noticed I can't tolerate potato chips like I used to. They're too salty.
We haven't had much summer weather, and I don't want to think about the clouds drifting in again. I have done well here, until this winter. It seemed it would never end.
Gas is still over $4 a gallon here, though it has dropped by a few cents in the past couple of weeks.
Did you know certain gas stations put a hold on your account when you purchase gas with a debit card. I assume it is the same with a credit card. I think this should be illegal. They not only put a hold on what you actually purchase, they add more on. I know Costco holds $100, and 76 holds $75. You could easily have an overdraft on your bank account because they are holding your money.
"Nobody suffers like the poor baby."
That's a line from a movie. I tend to do that a lot, when it fits.
Time to see if this works.