A Time to Laugh...

It's a good day to laugh, but then again, it's always a good day to laugh. Sometimes if you don't laugh, you might have to cry or scream. It's not one of those days (and we've all had 'em), but it is one of those days when I feel the need to lighten up the cyberworld with a little levity. Plus I think most of these kids are gonna kill their Mothers when they grow up. I don't blame them one bit. But I am definitely smiling today.

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What was my mother thinking? M-I-C-K-E-Y  M-O-U-S-E???

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I actually think my parents find this pose attractive

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Guilty as charged...

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I can't wait for the day when I can pick my OWN outfits...

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Mom, you forgot the product...

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I mean a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do...

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If I close my eyes I can pretend they didn't put this thing on my head...

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Baby on the right: "My expression says it all..."

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"Hmmmm, do you feel better now?"

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                                       "I caught you...you are smiling...I just know it."

Thank You

   I didn't know them personally. I didn't know their names, where they lived, or what they enjoyed doing in their spare time. I don't know if they had families or best friends or a dog who ran to greet them at the end of a long day. I don't know who wept yesterday or who weeps today once again to mourn their loss.  But I know that scores upon scores of real men and women entered those buildings that were burning on September 11 and many of them knew without a doubt even then that the odds were against them.

    Extraordinary times call for extraordinary measures and times like these empower seemingly ordinary men and women to undertake the extraordinarily heroic. It is a documented phenomenon that occurs on battlefields. Who of us knew the battlefield would come to the Twin Towers in New York City, America's own backyard on a beautiful fall day in early September ten years ago? Who knew that what was heretofore unfathomable would become a terrible reality and one that haunts us to this day.
    The scripture teaches us that "greater love hath no man than this, that he lay down his life for his brother." There are many observations, many lessons, and many stories that have emerged from this latest day of infamy to burn itself into the psyche of America. Yet none strikes deeper than the story of the first responders who climbed up and up and up into those buildings that would all too quickly become their tombs, their final resting place.
      There are no words to touch this. Words just aren't enough to soothe a loss so great in the face of an even greater horror that imploded and reverberated around us. So I pray for the men, women, and children these heroes left behind. I pray that the grief these families will feel on this ten-year anniversary of 9/11 will not overwhelm any of them to the point of despair. I will pray for healing tears and a healing touch and for the healing for a wound that seems beyond the scope of most of us to understand, much less comprehend. But I will not forget. I will not forget.
    So one woman in a house in Tennessee hundred of miles from where the sacrifices of many were made will get out of her bed and get down on her knees to say thank you for the lives of those who gave their all that day. Your sacrifice gives us hope and we honor you.

photos  from flicker.com

Coming Full Circle

    I am not a native of Nashville. I consider myself a Florida girl through and through even though I was actually born in Louisiana. However, because I grew up in a small town, I appreciate the cycle of continuity that accompanies a small-town lifestyle. Generations attend the same church. People live next door to each other in houses that have been passed down and children of children end up playing side by side much as their parents did. There are drawbacks of living in a small town, but the blessings are many.
   Nashville, on the other hand is far from a small town. We are well over a million and a half if you count what they call the "bedroom communities", i.e., the suburban communities where people who work in the downtown area drive home to sleep at night. Nashville is a city on the cusp of change. But despite its rapid growth and big-city amenities, I am comforted that some things don't seem to change much...or at least, one very important thing.
    I picked up Little One from her first day of Preschool/Mother's Day Out at St. B's today. Twenty-five years ago, I was parking in the same parking lot and walking down the same stairs to pick The Daughter up. Today it was her daughter. I turned around, and in the blink of an eye I am now the grandmother and not the mother. I got a big gulp in my throat when I rounded the corner and saw the classrooms lining the hallway. The Director of the PreSchool is the same lovely lady whom I am honored to count as a friend. I even knew several of the young mothers (one is a much loved former student of mine). I imagine that Little One will sing some of the same praise songs, learn the same scriptures, and celebrate the Holy Days in much the same way. I also have little doubt that she will be surrounded by the love and faithfulness of God in her time at St. B's, just as her mother was.

    However, all of this continuity is more than just a coincidental blessing. It is, for me, the living fulfillment of scripture. In Psalm 78 we are exhorted:
We will not hide them from their descendants; 
   we will tell the next generation
the praiseworthy deeds of the LORD,
   his power, and the wonders he has done.
⁵ He decreed statutes for Jacob
   and established the law in Israel,
which he commanded our ancestors
   to teach their children,
⁶ so the next generation would know them,
   even the children yet to be born,
   and they in turn would tell their children.
⁷ Then they would put their trust in God...
  

  This is what I will keep in mind as I pray for Little One and for her precious teachers in this Christ-centered place. I am forever grateful to St. B's for the love, the mercy, and the truth of the Gospel that were lived out before The Daughter when she was but a little girl. And I rejoice that Little One will likewise be the recipient of that selfsame love, mercy and truth.

   I am honored to see the faithfulness of God as it is coming full circle in my life. With the help, guidance, and tutelage of many, The Husband and I made it a priority that all of our children, including The Daughter, were taught the marvelous deeds of the Lord, and now I am getting to see what the scripture refers to as children yet to the born, the next generation, including our precious Little One, being steeped in the same life-giving Truth.

     To God be the Glory, great things He hath done...

Here are some pictures of Little One today!

At home, all ready to go. I love my lunchbox! Can you tell?!

Ready, Set, Go! I am playing in the gym at St. B's before school starts!

Sitting on the same steps where The Daughter once sat!
Little One and her mommy look so much alike!

Labor Day!

     The Daughter-in-Law and Son have come down with the throw-up bug. Could there be anything worse than having a throw-up bug on a holiday while you also have to take care of a baby who doesn't understand that her parents are sick? No worries. Nonna and Pappy have jumped on our horses and ridden to the rescue.
   In spite of the fact that we feel very sorry for the parents, we are having the best little play-date imaginable with one very adorable Little Two. She is now officially cruising so we have been watching her navigate and pull up on various pieces of furniture in the family room. She is still at the cautious stage, but I doubt that will last for long. She has also wasted a lot of energy trying to corner our Cavalier, Wilson, but so far he is only playing mouse to her cat which makes her laugh all the more.
   Thankfully, we have successfully worn her out and she is now down and out for the count. Don't tell anyone, but Pappy and Nonna are about to be down and out for the count, as well!

Here is Miss Cuteness herself!

 

'Tis the Season of Compromise

    The season officially opened on Thursday evening. For all of you neophytes, I am talking about the College Football Season. I don't know about where you live, but it has become a cult of sorts in my neck of the woods. This in no small part is due to the fact that I have lived the past thirty years in a largely male dominated household. One very athletic husband. Three very athletic sons. One very athletic daughter. One about-as-far-as-you-can-get-from-an athlete mother. No one told me that my fall schedule would revolve around football games. My husband played baseball in college so I can understand his obsession with baseball, baseball parks, and of course, the World Series. It is, after all, America's pastime. But football? I should have known.

    In our early married lives we could have easily qualified for food stamps. I was finishing school and The Husband was earning minimum wage in a family company. We barely had two nickels to rub together. We owned one car and we kept it parked most of the time. He took the bus to work (because we could not afford the parking downtown), and I walked to the neighborhood grocery store.  I brought my groceries home in one of those little metal carts you see the elderly toting around. I was so not cool. I guess we were energy efficient even then; our carbon footprint was practically minuscule. We spent virtually no money because we didn't have any to spend. But we somehow managed to have football season tickets every year to the Vanderbilt football games. Even then we had our priorities straight.

We sent two of our sons to the school that won the National Championship last year, so of course
The Husband and one of the sons just had to go to the game...

     Things haven't changed much. The husband still has season tickets, but I decided to bow out after watching my beloved Commodores make it to just three bowl games in forty years. On hot humid days when the temperature at kick-off is right at 100 degrees, I prefer my air-conditioning. Turns out The Husband does, too. So here we sit on the inaugural College Game Day of the 2011-2012 season. We watched last year's National Championship Team, Auburn, pull out a last minute win to keep from totally embarrassing themselves. We are now flipping channels between the LSU vs Oregon game and our Commodores who actually might win their opening game. Life is good. I have adjusted to the fact that fall in my household is a season of compromise. We go to movies on Sunday afternoons instead of Saturday nights. We hang out on Saturday night with other couples who like to watch football. The men stay glued to the set and the wives talk. It's the way things go in the South. But The Husband knows that this wife is making these sacrifices with something specific in mind....it's called Ireland. And it's calling our name. The two of us will hopefully be heading there sometime after football season is over. The Husband has learned the art of compromise. It makes for a good marriage and some very nice trips. So while we sit together in the family room, he is watching the games and I am conducting a little research on, you guessed it, the Emerald Isle.

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Prayer and the Nature of a Friendship

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I am praying for a friend today. 

We have been friends a long time. 

Thirty-three years to be exact. 

That's a lot of water over and under the bridge and so many memories.

She has been there through it all. 

We raised our babies together. 

We cried together. Laughed together and even screamed together. 

We saw our daughters get married and my sons, too. 

Now we are playing with granddaughters.

We buried a best friend. That was really really hard.

In the course of our friendship, I have been a great friend, a terrible friend, and a so-so friend.

I wish that weren't true, but it is.

I love my friend deeply, but I don't always tell her so.  I am rectifying that today.  

I love you, Boo and always will. 

The good news is that since we both love Jesus we will "always" be friends!

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I am also very thankful that His grace is enough. For friendship. For life. Forever.

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The Librarian's Daughter

   From the time that I was a little girl, I have been captivated by words. Thus as a child it was only natural that I devoured books the way that some children devour sweets. I can thank my mother, a highly regarded librarian or media specialist as she likes to be called, for this life-long love affair of mine. Her influence upon me in this regard has been both pervasive and enduring.  I am descended from a long line of bibliophiles. My grandmother, Louise Brooks Rushing, was a much revered English teacher and her mother, my great-grandmother, was a founder of the original Study Club in her hometown. The home my great-grandmother grew up in later became the location for the city library of Opp, Alabama. So...reading books and collecting books are in my genes.
   However, even I have had to admit...I have enough books. There are books in nearly every room in my house. We collect bookshelves around here the same way that some people collect china. I even had books piled up under my bed for a while. About six months ago I decided it was time to begin purging. After giving lots of books away to Goodwill, I found myself becoming acquainted once again with our local McKay's bookstore. You take your old books to McKay's, trade them in, and they will either give you cash or store credit. I tried the money route, but you only get about half or less of what you would get if you take store credit. It's a racket. They sucker you back in every time. So, I am taking back my old books and getting store credit so I can...you guessed it, buy more books. Something is wrong with this picture.
   Fast forward to my antique mall booth. Since I was getting seriously side-tracked in my recovery plan for my addiction, I knew I had to take drastic measures. Gasp. I am now willing to share some of my antique and well-loved vintage books with discriminating buyers. Don't worry, I am not getting rid of anything that I really treasure, but I am offering some lovely books for you fellow bibliophiles. Here's a look at some of the goodies I recently added to my booth at the Harpeth Antique Mall!

   This Big Golden Book of Poetry is highly sought after for its lovely and whimsical illustrations by Gertrude Elliott. Since the 1969 edition is very difficult to find this copy has a hefty price tag, but I have been assured that the right buyer will snap it up.

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 I don't remember this particular book, but lots of people seem to love it, which is why it is in high demand. This 1967 edition has sweet illustrations by Marjorie Cooper.  Trust me when I say that this is a steal (it's in excellent condition)!

This is a little Scholastic 1967 paperback copy of Jack and the Beanstalk with hilarious illustrations.

Apparently the humble Little Golden Book is hot in vintage book circles. And who doesn't love a little Peter Pan?  I have a good selection of vintage Golden Books available. Come browse through to find your favorite!


I am not about to foist my opinions on the Crusades on you; I am simply offering this 1942 edition of Harold Lamb's The Crusades: Iron Men and Saints.

This is an older edition of Huckleberry Finn from 1965 that has delightful inside cover illustrations

And this is by no means all that I have! There's a copy of The Ides of March (First Edition) by Thornton Wilder,  a beautiful copy of the Waverly Novels (Volume 8) by Sir Walter Scott with original engravings intact and much, much more! Stop by to see the rest. You won't be sorry!