Why I dislike Mother's Day

There, you are reading it here first: the reasons I think Mother's Day is ridiculous after children leave the home.

Admittedly, when my 7 kids were young , the whole idea of actually having a day to sit back, relax, be given cards and gifts, and special hugs from my adoring children, did appeal to me. It made me feel, if not special, at least appreciated for the orchestrator of all things Home Like. Dad did his best to keep up, but since it fell on a Sunday , since he was a Pastor whose job description included Sunday as a work day, and since we rarely worked on the Sabbath......well, see what I am getting at here? How hard was it to put a lunch in the Crockpot, then have the kids throw me a breakfast in bed on their way to the race to the bathroom and getting ready for church? There wasn't even any laundry to do, for crying out loud.

The funniest part for me was the kids all watching me eat whatever they brought me for breakfast. It developed from a piece of dry toast and popcorn in 1977 ish to a gourmet breakfast in bed, on a tray with flowers, by the time they all flew out of the nest. That was well over 30 years of experimentation on a mom who was often made to lie flat and live without a cup of coffee for a very l-o-n-g period of time.

Fast forward to 2012, former husband having flown from this nest about 11 years prior, and all children snuggled nicely in their own lifestyles. Seven different kids, seven different lifestyles, and not a one wanting to enter quietly into my kitchen, pop some toast in the toaster and produce a mouth-watering version of  Emeril's Live Surprise Mom show. Ok, so as I wrote that , I began feeling a tiny bitty bit depressed all over again thinking how maybe that would be a fun idea....oh, but wait! that is my point!!!

The Mother's Day Sunday in May is BOGUS. My children are the same the day before and the day after, they love me whether or not they sent me a card, got me a candle, or invited me over for dinner. It's a fact. I may not FEEL the love every single day, but I am pretty sure it is there, even when their moods are altered by work overload and daily drama.

The media began asking , taking polls even~ "what is your favorite Mother's Day gift?", for about a month before the day arrived, forcing usually normal people to become obsessed about what to give their mom in order to make her feel happy. Candy? Flowers? Time alone? Wine? Jewelry? Hallmark cards? How about that cruise she has always longed for? After a few times of hearing it I began wondering to myself what exactly was that perfect gift I would want to receive from my children??

There you have it, not able to be purchased, no food included, priceless gift. The price, of course, was that Jesus Christ already paid for this gift of Truth - for He is the Way, the Truth and the Life.

I shared this with my children for 365 days a year, (not just over toast on Mother's Day) all the years of their lives at home, and I am waiting, sometimes patiently and sometimes not, for them all 7 to be walking in that Truth.

Why do I dislike Mother's Day?
Because for that one single day, every year, the expectations of joy become more important than the Truth.

I love that God gave me children to teach about the Truth. Thank you Lord for these gifts is on my lips daily.  I love that the Truth remains so, even when this mom gets grumpy and sad and frustrated, because Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today and forever.

Mother's Day? not so much.

The New Relationship

I am astounded, even as I write, that my relationship with this male cardinal grew relatively quickly from just friends to Best Friend Forever (BFF) status.

Here's how it started, innocently enough, you'll have to agree. I had a week off work for a vacation and my plans changed from visiting my Southern grandchildren, to sitting often on my back porch. I was alone, I was broke, and so the best way to conserve money and energy was to sit and sip. Some would sip wine, I sip coffee.

Get out of bed, grab a cup of coffee, feed the cat, water the plants, growl at the goldfish and maybe throw a token crumb or two his way, go to the back porch and sit awhile. Sit awhile are words you don't hear that often anymore, but were used alot in the day of my grandma. Sit awhile indicated your presence was desired, your company sought and your time valuable.  I love nothing better than to say "Come in and sit awhile" to a friend, but thus far in my Post David Living Experience (PDLE), I have maybe just a couple of friends who have sat awhile. Cheryl comes to mind immediately, since just today she left me a note on my front door, behind my dishtowel that keeps the screen door closed. It was her just stopping by on the chance I would be here. I love Cheryl. I sometimes say "Come in and sit awhile" and she does. We talk, we fuss, we complain, we praise God together, we cry, we laugh, we sip tea. Cheryl likes tea better than coffee, but I don't hold that against her, I give in on that point for friendship's sake :-) .

Where was I? Oh, My new BFF and I building our relationship. So I am on the back porch, sipping my early morning coffee and over flies this bright red, noisy cardinal. He apparently is chirping at me because I am too close to something. He would sit, sing, chirp madly and leave.  As the week went by, I held my ground and returned to the porch, and he changed his view of me and slowly included me in his circle of safe things to sing around. Sing he did! ♪☺ I tried videotaping it(OK, of course I did ) and somewhere between me and my camera was a disastrous result~ wobbly , wavy and no sound! Hahahaha! Some things just have to be enjoyed without sharing.

Every day Mr C went from one particular sassafras tree branch to another, singing a call that was either praising the Creator or calling his future mate. Clearly a happy call. Chirp, chirp, chirp sort of thing. But then as I watched and sipped my coffee, he would get really agitated and start another raucous call, more like an attacking cry that was not at all pleasant. I learned , through daily observation, that this meant get out of here Ms. Cat or you will be dive bombed.

                                        Would you trust this face around your nest? Smart BFF.

My daily morning visits found the cardinal getting closer and braver as he became used to my quiet, listening self. I perceived that when I talked, he was not happy. Yes, before you can ask, I did try to talk to this new friend. The results were a sudden flutter of wings and a solid hour of waiting for him to reappear and begin again. I learned quickly that he liked listeners way better than talkers.

One day he invited his wife to visit us, and she timidly approached the porch area, taking her sweet time and keeping her sounds to herself. He was definitely the louder and more bold of the two. I think he was protecting her too, because she was always in the distance watching and only arrived after a slight change in the chirp sounds.

I'd like to tell you here that I now speak Cardinalese, but seriously, these birds have at least 4 different sounds and I have yet to figure out what sets each one off. I am just more appreciative of them and am definitely loving the male of the species much better than the female. Well, let me show you :

She is rather attractive, I suppose, but not nearly as flashy or friendly as her bird counterpart. I had almost given up on the male species, what with PDLE and all, but it seems the case was specific to one human male rather than the male gender in general. [just kidding.]

Come out and sit awhile was no longer a passing thought, but my mission each morning. I had to go look and listen for my BFF! He might miss me! He might do something really awesome! He might show me , finally, where that elusive nest was hiding so I could watch baby BFF's being made.

Oh, you who know me, must know that this Blog is not going to be just about Birds! Indeed, there is another parallel I am drawing mentally here. It took the entire week of observation, pondering and sipping to figure out where my own mind was traveling. Like the Mr. C who hops around on the ground before he sings from the treetops, it took me all week.

Relationships worth having take time, and intentionality. They come from sitting awhile and from listening and caring. These potentially BFF relationships can appear ill suited at first. There may be preconceived notions present , like...he is too flashy, or, he is too beautiful for me, or...we have nothing in common.

Time well spent this week, not talking on the phone, texting or computering, was the hours(yes, hours) I took to learn about Mr. Cardinal. I regret not a minute of it, and believe me when I say it was chilly some mornings!



It was not just sipping coffee on my back porch and listening to Birds that occupied my mornings. I also sat with the Creator of my BFF. I listened to what God said about Himself, sitting quietly so as to learn what I could of Him by NOT talking and NOT making noises. He told us all about Himself in the Bible, His Holy Word, set apart for those who desire to know Him better.  Time well spent and I am so happy that I Sat Awhile .

President's Day and assundry thoughts

In my head I have written at least a hundred blogs, ranging from child rearing do's and don'ts to church membership~ perils and perks. It has been a busy season in my brain and some of those blogs have been stellar!

The problem is not thinking or being opinionated, it is placing the thoughts on paper(or for the sake of modern technology...scribbling on the screen) and letting a few people view the reality of my brain waves. Some would say , "well who reads the blogs anyhow?" and have a valid argument. Others might say, " well those who know you already know how and what you think ".  Again, a fairly accurate statement.

However, my problem has been and always will be , that my honest to goodness thinking process is mainly about my children, my grandchildren, my husband who is no more, my mom, my sisters, my brother and my friends. Pretty much my world consists of my people population and most of them are still able to read, some are able to access my web site, and some even read my thoughts, if available.

There is the quandry. I may be thinking dramatically or inaccurately, or temporarily, or stupidly or emotionally, or irrationally. I may not be processed. I may be the nectar straight from the stamin of the flower before the worker bee has taken it back to the hive.  The honey maker has not yet refined it into honey and the bad junk been removed, processing done, and the final product on the shelf.

Yup, I am the worker bee going after the deliciously complex flavors within the deep colors of the flower garden. I want the good stuff that comes from flying by some flowers and zeroing in on certain particularly interesting others. They all are fine, I am just getting fussy and a bit choosy as I age.
I like, for instance, Queen Anne's Lace almost as much as the Gardenia. One has no scent whatsoever and one is as fragrant as I have ever sniffed. For crying out loud, Queen Anne's Lace doesn't even have any nectar!

If I write in symbolism and metaphors and change names to protect the innocent or guilty, depending on my thoughts, will they still love me?
Am I loved no matter how I think?
Will anything change if I put words to my thoughts?
What happens if I don't edit my thoughts a million times and just verbalize them?

Regarding President's Day:
What happens if I say out loud, I like President Obama, but dislike his policies and abhor his stance that makes him look like his claim of being a Christian is ridiculously shallow and embarrassing to others of us claiming to know Christ?
What will happen if I say the earliest President I remember is Dwight D Eisenhower and even then I have no memory of much else in politics until in junior high school when my history class was interrupted by an announcement to pray for our President because he had been shot?
Will people love me less if I admit that  I am trusting God for this country more than I am trusting the political men and women who think they are so important to it's running?
Would anyone be surprised if when I started writing this post I was frozen in fear of foolishness and then my fingers started typing faster than my brain works?
Do President's birthdays deserve us taking a day off work in our country, when my own children are barely recognized, even by family, and are so much more important to my world?

Tomorrow the baby flower in my life garden turns 24~ his young life in the balance of his own decision making choices. He makes my garden vibrant with his colorful presence, and as bold as the red dahlias that bloom among the quieter pansies in my front yard all summer. I missed my dahlias last summer, buying the less expensive and less work intensive chrysanthemums. Surely they produced all summer, but where the outright JOY! and Flair!?  Nope, I need the vibrancy of the dahlia and whether or not it costs more is too bad- it must be in my daily vision as I exit the house to go into the world outside. I must see it as I drive up my street, waving colorfully in my yard as I enter the haven of home. One needs color. One needs variety and vitality.

Just as necessary, though, are the flowerless hostas, who adorn my sidewalk faithfully, requiring no work at all. I need stability and calm, gentleness and faithfulness.

Presidents, people, pansies, pain....see how my mind churns around?

It takes work to be honest, the work of a worker bee in God's garden of life.

 I am just going to end today's Blog with this: At 61 years of age, with death, divorce and debt in my rear view mirror...I am still looking forward to the road trip ahead. Buzzing along without the security of a hive . Yikes, hope I didn't sting you as I flew past today.