On to other business. I have neglected the camera. For several reasons:::
#1. My sister got a Mac-daddy camera and I want it. So I pretend it's mine and take pictures with it then she takes it home with her like it's her's or something and I have no way to download all my pictures.
#2. I say, "You just take the pictures and tag me." That does me a whole lotta good.
#3. I would forget my head if it wasn't attached to my body......though there are several odd looking things attached nowadays, the camera is not one of those things......you get the picture.
#4. I can be lazy. I think.
.......therefore, not many pictures. And I like pictures.
- T-ball has entered into our world. Can I just go ahead and say I'm a really terrible mother. T-ball is absolutely boring. We were super excited about the idea when John Luke decided he wanted to play. John was asked to help coach and then I
volunteered myselfwas asked to help as well. After game 1, we were much less excited. And now after game 5, we are even less excited. Really. Trust me. I'm not sure if all places do T-ball like we do T-ball, but in my opinion it is bad wrong. We keep no score. There's no such thing as 3 outs. Every child bats, every inning. Basically, there no rules. There are no fundamentals being taught. I'm sure there are those who would totally disagree with me, and that's fine, I'll lose no sleep over it, I just think we should be teaching kids more about what life is really like. And T-ball ain't it! So like I said, I'm a terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad mama. But....I will end all of this by saying, I am thankful to God that He gave us a healthy little boy that is capable of playing T-ball no matter how boring.
- Six years ago I was skinny, tan and hopelessly in love with one mighty handsome man. Today, some of those things are still true.....the one that matters. {And the handsome part}. For our anniversary, we took off on a weekend get-away all by ourselves and it was O-mazing! Did you realize how much food you could consume when you have no critters crawling on you? I can put away some food under any circumstance. But for some reason that weekend it all tasted better than I remember food tasting. So therefore we ate. A lot. I shopped. He paid. We talked. Like normal people. In a normal voice and in complete sentences. No interruptions. And then we ate again. It was so. much. fun. And very. much. needed. Thank you to those who watched our precious critters so we could go. Y'all are priceless! Yet again no pictures. Only a few silly ones on his phone of things such as Krispy Kreme doughnuts and a pair of very white tennis shoes.
- We've had this little dumpling hang out with us a few days. My kiddos think he's a new toy. They love their sweet blue-eyed baby-cousin. I wonder if he's diggin' them as much as they are him?
- That husband of mine is the pickiest eater alive. I mean the.pickiest. He will eat a very short list of things and is happy as all get out to eat them over. and over. and over. and over. and over....... so when he asked for spinach and onions on his grilled chicken footlong, I thought I better get the camera out and document it because 'round here that is picture worthy! He is trying. I'll give him that.
- Our sweet boy is 5. Five.years.old. I am still trying to figure out how that happened. He is a true blessing in our lives. God has given him a sense of compassion and a heart that is tender as they come. I pray that he never loses that compassion and tenderness. And that God will use it in mighty ways. A man with a tenderheart who is full of compassion is rare. It is most definitely not a weakness but by all means a strength. One that will allow him to love with a Christ-like love. I am one grateful mama that God chose me to help him grow!
- Remember I won an awesome giveaway from a sweet blogger. I l-o-v-e it!
- I read this story and laughed my fanny off!
- Then I came across a precious story that I had heard Chuck Swindoll read during one of his messages. It is worth your time:::
A NYC Taxi driver wrote:
I arrived at the address and honked the horn. After waiting a few minutes I honked again. Since this was going to be my last ride of my shift I thought about just driving away, but instead I put the car in park and walked up to the door and knocked.. 'Just a minute', answered a frail, elderly voice. I could hear something being dragged across the floor.
After a long pause, the door opened. A small woman in her 90's stood before me. She was wearing a print dress and a pillbox hat with a veil pinned on it, like somebody out of a 1940's movie.
By her side was a small nylon suitcase. The apartment looked as if no one had lived in it for years. All the furniture was covered with sheets.
There were no clocks on the walls, no knickknacks or utensils on the counters. In the corner was a cardboard
box filled with photos and glassware.
'Would you carry my bag out to the car?' she said. I took the suitcase to the cab, then returned to assist the woman.
She took my arm and we walked slowly toward the curb.
She kept thanking me for my kindness. 'It's nothing', I told her.. 'I just try to treat my passengers the way I would want my mother to be treated.'
'Oh, you're such a good boy, she said. When we got in the cab, she gave me an address and then asked, 'Could you drive
through downtown?'
'It's not the shortest way,' I answered quickly..
'Oh, I don't mind,' she said. 'I'm in no hurry. I'm on my way to a hospice.
I looked in the rear-view mirror. Her eyes were glistening. 'I don't have any family left,' she continued in a soft voice..'The doctor says I don't have very long.' I quietly reached over and shut off the meter.
'What route would you like me to take?' I asked.
For the next two hours, we drove through the city. She showed me the building where she had once worked as an elevator operator.
We drove through the neighborhood where she and her husband had lived when they were newlyweds She had me pull up in front of a furniture warehouse that had once been a ballroom where she had gone dancing as a girl.
Sometimes she'd ask me to slow in front of a particular building or corner and would sit staring into the darkness, saying nothing.
As the first hint of sun was creasing the horizon, she suddenly said, 'I'm tired.Let's go now'.
We drove in silence to the address she had given me. It was a low building, like a small convalescent home, with a driveway that passed under a portico.
Two orderlies came out to the cab as soon as we pulled up. They were solicitous and intent, watching her every move.
They must have been expecting her.
I opened the trunk and took the small suitcase to the door. The woman was already seated in a wheelchair.
'How much do I owe you?' She asked, reaching into her purse.
'Nothing,' I said
'You have to make a living,' she answered.
'There are other passengers,' I responded.
Almost without thinking, I bent and gave her a hug.She held onto me tightly.
'You gave an old woman a little moment of joy,' she said. 'Thank you.'
I squeezed her hand, and then walked into the dim morning light.. Behind me, a door shut.It was the sound of the closing of a life..
I didn't pick up any more passengers that shift. I drove aimlessly lost in thought. For the rest of that day,I could hardly talk.What if that woman had gotten an angry driver,or one who was impatient to end his shift? What if I had refused to take the run, or had honked once, then driven away?
On a quick review, I don't think that I have done anything more important in my life.
We're conditioned to think that our lives revolve around great moments.
But great moments often catch us unaware-beautifully wrapped in what others may consider a small one.
I arrived at the address and honked the horn. After waiting a few minutes I honked again. Since this was going to be my last ride of my shift I thought about just driving away, but instead I put the car in park and walked up to the door and knocked.. 'Just a minute', answered a frail, elderly voice. I could hear something being dragged across the floor.
After a long pause, the door opened. A small woman in her 90's stood before me. She was wearing a print dress and a pillbox hat with a veil pinned on it, like somebody out of a 1940's movie.
By her side was a small nylon suitcase. The apartment looked as if no one had lived in it for years. All the furniture was covered with sheets.
There were no clocks on the walls, no knickknacks or utensils on the counters. In the corner was a cardboard
box filled with photos and glassware.
'Would you carry my bag out to the car?' she said. I took the suitcase to the cab, then returned to assist the woman.
She took my arm and we walked slowly toward the curb.
She kept thanking me for my kindness. 'It's nothing', I told her.. 'I just try to treat my passengers the way I would want my mother to be treated.'
'Oh, you're such a good boy, she said. When we got in the cab, she gave me an address and then asked, 'Could you drive
through downtown?'
'It's not the shortest way,' I answered quickly..
'Oh, I don't mind,' she said. 'I'm in no hurry. I'm on my way to a hospice.
I looked in the rear-view mirror. Her eyes were glistening. 'I don't have any family left,' she continued in a soft voice..'The doctor says I don't have very long.' I quietly reached over and shut off the meter.
'What route would you like me to take?' I asked.
For the next two hours, we drove through the city. She showed me the building where she had once worked as an elevator operator.
We drove through the neighborhood where she and her husband had lived when they were newlyweds She had me pull up in front of a furniture warehouse that had once been a ballroom where she had gone dancing as a girl.
Sometimes she'd ask me to slow in front of a particular building or corner and would sit staring into the darkness, saying nothing.
As the first hint of sun was creasing the horizon, she suddenly said, 'I'm tired.Let's go now'.
We drove in silence to the address she had given me. It was a low building, like a small convalescent home, with a driveway that passed under a portico.
Two orderlies came out to the cab as soon as we pulled up. They were solicitous and intent, watching her every move.
They must have been expecting her.
I opened the trunk and took the small suitcase to the door. The woman was already seated in a wheelchair.
'How much do I owe you?' She asked, reaching into her purse.
'Nothing,' I said
'You have to make a living,' she answered.
'There are other passengers,' I responded.
Almost without thinking, I bent and gave her a hug.She held onto me tightly.
'You gave an old woman a little moment of joy,' she said. 'Thank you.'
I squeezed her hand, and then walked into the dim morning light.. Behind me, a door shut.It was the sound of the closing of a life..
I didn't pick up any more passengers that shift. I drove aimlessly lost in thought. For the rest of that day,I could hardly talk.What if that woman had gotten an angry driver,or one who was impatient to end his shift? What if I had refused to take the run, or had honked once, then driven away?
On a quick review, I don't think that I have done anything more important in my life.
We're conditioned to think that our lives revolve around great moments.
But great moments often catch us unaware-beautifully wrapped in what others may consider a small one.
Life is busy and we are all consumed with it's demands. I wonder sometimes what we miss out on because of it.....
Hope you all have a happy happy weekend!
3 comments:
Sorry Mamy agrees, T-Ball is very boring!!
Glad you enjoyed your trip to Fish River.
I love the pics of little man and his cousins! I think he thinks they are fun to watch.
The story was so sweet and challenging.
Mamy
Glad you finally updated. I have been checking everyday!! Oh yeah you can borrow my camera whenever you would like! I think your camera takes great pics though!!
Love,
Mamy
Thanks Mamy!
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