EPIC SNOWSTORM

It's over!  Finally!  The 100 yr blizzard of 2011 for the state of OK has come and by next week will be gone.

The whole ordeal started out with days of warnings.  It's coming....IT's Coming!.....IT'S COMING!  Get ready...IT'S COMING!!!    I don't know of 5 people that believed it.  Wow, we were ALL wrong.  Life went on as normal,  most of us with our heads in the sand.  While the meteorologists were shouting we took a road trip toward Texas and picked up Mollie and Gracie for a weekend visit with BeBe and Papa.  We'd return them to their mommy in a few days. 

 WELL,  IT sure enough got here.

The first blow was 14 inches of snow in one day.....the town shut down!  Schools closed, highways closed, and the cars and trucks that did attempt to  navigate  the roads  ended up in the ditches.   Fire trucks,  police cars and ambulances were themselves among the dented and upturned.  We sighed with relief because at least the power stayed on and we were warm and well lit!  Neighbors checked on neighbors, shared food, shovels and strong backs.

After a couple of days of peering out the window and watching the wind whip the beautiful white powder into all sorts of flowing drifts,  we ventured out the front door.   It was SO cold.  Mollie and Gracie bundled up and attempted to walk through the waist high magic.  It was impossible for their little legs to self-plow.

The recipe was all wrong for a snowman.  It was too dry, couldn't even form a snowball to get started. Our outdoor adventure lasted all of 3 1/2 minutes.

The next warning came.  There would be a "dusting" of snow,  nothing to be concerned about.  The weathermen pulled their heads out of the drifts when 4 more inches were added to the pile.  More closings,  more scooping, more layers, more wet boots, more games and little girl tea parties in the living room.

Having two little girls in the house was the saving element of this whole ordeal.  We pulled out all the stops, all the old games and all the new ones. I didn't realize how big this house actually was until we spent time playing hide and seek.  It was a small riot with squeals of delight each time Papa was found.  Gracie won the Wii bowling tournament,  but Mollie was the "chickenfoot" champ.  We made cookies and ate them, poured bubbles in the tub and covered little bodies with them. We relived the Kentucky derby again and again on two toy horses "racing" around the kitchen.  The magic tent was put up and served as a stable.  We played the piano  and the music boxes.  We learned the words to "Deep in the Heart of Texas."  We read umpteen "Berenstein Bear" books and followed those with the cartoon version on the TV.

A "roads are now passable" window of opportunity arrived on Sat. and Papa drove the girls back to their parents. They'd been with us a week and their mommy and daddy wanted them back.  We'd been given a very unexpected but very fun "BeBe Camp in Winter."  The house became way too quiet, way too fast, and I returned to my actual age, no longer pretending to be 4.

Next warning came.  Sunday night another front was going to move through. 

This time we would be ready.  Honeybums went to the nearby Walmart and there was not 1 loaf of bread, carton of milk, or an egg to be found.  EVERYONE was getting ready for FRENCH TOAST.  That seems to be the menu for snowbound folks. 

IT CAME AGAIN.  6 more inches  of snow at our house (25 inches at the town of Jay, northeast of us.)

The driveway, sidewalks and my dryer vent are snow packed again. The area schools have been closed for two weeks.  Our neighborhood still has not seen a snowplow.

(As of today, I've been in the house for 12 days,  minus one morning when I crawled to the dr. for a shot in the behinny, a breathing treatment and $300.00 for  medication.  Honeybuns brought a bug into the house he'd picked up on a business trip a couple of days before the blizzard hit.That's another story!)

A heat wave is coming, should be here by tomorrow.  70 degrees is forecasted for Monday.   We will have jumped from -12 to 70 in a week's time.  It'll be interesting to see how long it takes for this horrendous amount of white to melt.  I'm expecting a flood!

Once in every 100 years, so we'll probably not be around to witness this again.

BUT.....IF/WHEN  the weatherman starts shouting "IT'S COMING,"  I'll make sure there are some grandchildren in the house.  They are much more valuable in combating Cabin Fever than bread, milk, and eggs.  Who needs French Toast when you've got giggles?

TIKI'S BIRTHDAY

Tiki is SEVEN today, we think!   We're not sure birthdays are celebrated in Rwanda and there is no record so it's just a guesstimate. In fact, his  adoptive parents chose this day as the day to celebrate his arrival into the world because there is no record of his actual "birth" day.  02/03/04 will be his special day now the rest of his life.

We're all  VERY THANKFUL that THIS birthday is being celebrated in the US with his "new " family.

What did we do before BT?  (before Tiki)  He has added light and joy to the whole family.  His smile is genuine and huge. He is the happiest little boy I know.  He makes us stop and look at things with new eyes, things he's never seen or experienced before.
(At Thanksgiving I put "dressing" on his plate and he asked me, "What is dressing?"  "This! it's good, you'll like it."  Tiki, "Do you put it in a bear?"  How can you not love that?)

He amazes us with his ability to learn so quickly.  In just a little over a year he has mastered the English language complete with slang and difficult American nuances.  He knows that we have many words that have two meanings.

He is secure and brave. He is kind one minute and mischievous the next, we wouldn't have it any other way!

 He enjoys life to the MAX!  Whether it's his first time fishing or snowboarding, he dives in with both feet, fearless.

Adopted grandchildren are just as amazing as the kind that arrive the old fashioned way.  That tremendous feeling of drowning in love when you see a grandchild for the fist time is repeated when that grandchild is introduced from another country.   A grandparents love knows no boundaries when it comes to size, age, race, or origin of birth. 

I encourage folks my age to NEVER discourage their own children from adopting.  Sure, I've heard it said, "but, you never know what you're going to get."  And my answer is, "So?"    Every child that enters your life is a blessing beyond comprehension.  EVERY child is unique and wonderfully made.

And you may just get a TIKI!  What a prize!

I look forward to watching Tiki celebrate many more birthdays.  I can hardly wait to see what his interests will be as he grows and matures.   One thing I know, there will be no stopping him.   He will  run headlong into life and make us all smile, laugh, and recall how much we love him.

SAFE ON THURSDAY NIGHT

Tonight I had the rare experience of sitting with a group of teens and early 20 year olds  and witnessing  facts that up until now  I'd only read about. 

There were about 30 in the room, all strangers to me, but they knew each other.  There was pleasant bantering in the room and an underlying sense of respect for one another.  They were part of a group that meets every Thursday night at a local "club" for food and fun.

 A safe place for them to gather is provided through a local ministry.  It's located in a part of Tulsa that I rarely drive through. Most lived nearby.

The meeting room was clean, painted in bright colors and welcoming. Smells of good food cooking filled the air. The groups motto painted on the concrete wall assured everyone that entered that they were welcome and safe, regardless of their sexual orientation.

Safe is probably the most important word to describe the place and the atmosphere. Safety is what these particular young people long for and need.

The agenda for this meeting was to educate these young people about Human Trafficking.  As we went around the room and made introductions they confessed that they knew very little about the subject.  They listened respectfully as the presentation was made, the awful facts were flashed before them on the big screen. 

I watched their faces as they watched the screen.  And we ALL learned much.

I learned that the cold hard facts that lead to Human Trafficking were sitting right before me in bodily form.  The young people were brutally honest when asked very personal questions.

Yes, most had been sexually abused as young children, many had already dropped out of school, several had been raped repeatedly, they had come from violent homes, a handful had been homeless already in their young life.  They knew prostitutes personally and were pretty sure they'd seen Human Trafficking going on right in their own back yards. Alcohol, cigarettes,  and drugs are essential elements of their daily existence.  They didn't wince at the idea of having ever been shot at, but quietly just raised their hands as they remembered that horror. Not many lived with both biological parents.

I listened, respected,  and tried to look into their eyes.  Some looked down, all but 2-3 avoided contact. A few exuded the bravado of phony confidence, attempting but failing to mask their fears.  Some faces held that blank stare of emptiness. They seemed so young....and so old.  They are babies and they are broken.

They've experienced way too much for their years.  Life has already taught them more than I ever want to know.

They are prime targets for predators that promise love, money, and security only to deliver pain and loneliness. There is no doubt that several I met tonight will never live to see adulthood.  I wonder how many will be mourned by any family at all, and how long it will be before they are totally forgotten.

There's a name for these  kids: throwaways.   They are rejected, rebellious and alone, in dire need of tender care and professional counseling.

Thursday night is the highlight of their week.  For a few short hours they are accepted, warm,  and safe.

The depravity of man was on display,  personified in the eyes of young victims.

MY FRIEND LORETTA

My dear, sweet friend and almost constant companion  these days is named Loretta.  She's a relatively new addition to my list of loved ones having only  been with me now about 4 years, ever since we moved to Oklahoma.  She is faithful, strong, and could be classified as a "low maintenance" type of friend.   She's willing to go anywhere I want to go and is a great front-seat type of passenger. Her loyalty is astounding, her steady personality is a calming influence.

She reads maps fluently and guides me around Tulsa and every other road I choose to travel. We have traveled  together to Kansas, Missouri, Arkansas, Colorado, all over Oklahoma, and  Illinois.   Her voice is kind, dripping with patience, even when I get exasperated and testy. We enjoy the same music and often listen to sermons in the car just to pass the time.   I can always count on her for an interesting and informative conversation. Lively bantering is part of our appreciation for one another.

That's what friends are all about, right?  Faithful, true, keeps confidences, always encouraging, ready for an outing  with happy spontaneity. I respect the fact that she knows how to hold her tongue in times of crisis when I've made a bad decision. Yet, she doesn't hesitate speaking her mind  when she's got something important to say.

She has kept me from danger with her wisdom,  and entertained me on long drives.  She comes along only when invited and never feels slighted. She knows no revenge and never complains of hurt feelings even when I tell her I've had enough of her for one day.

Loretta arrived WITH my big red Ford Expedition.  She lives right there in the dash and comes to life with a push of a button.  Her last name is GPS.   Whatever would I do without Loretta?  I'd be lost!

Egads!  I've befriended a computer!!!

THE BEST THINGS IN LIFE AREN'T THINGS

Everybody knows THAT'S true.  Family, friends, the Word of God, a child's laughter,  people,  love, generosity, kindness, patience and encouragement all head the list of THE most important aspects of life.  NO THING can compare with the pride and friendship grown children bring, the devotion of a husband or the joy of grandchildren. NO THING can compare with an intimate relationship with the Creator or the bond of sister-love.

BUT...there are some THINGS  that make me smile,  too.  I could make a list or write a song (oh, Julie Andrews already did that!) or even take pictures of my favorite things.

Sometimes if a grandchild is having difficulty going to sleep I tell him/her to close their eyes and think about their favorite things. They always get that dreamy faraway look that tells me that they're thinking really hard and I can leave the room knowing that sweet peaceful sleep is imminent.

It's fun to dream about favorite things once in a while.

My  short list includes, in no particular order of importance:  puppy dog tummies, hybrid bearded Iris's, French soap, dusty old bookstores, antique shops, fabric stores, yarn shops, the mountains of Alaska, the beaches of Hawaii, sheets that have dried on a clothesline outside, letters from friends, fuzzy robes, new shoes, BOOKS, a red ripe Illinois tomato, a ride in a convertible, morel mushrooms freshly picked from an Illinois riverbank,  the Smithsonian, old pick-up trucks,  a plane ticket, an e-mail from a family member or friend, an evening free of anything electrical,  Gardenias,  MUSIC, and a picture crayola-colored by a grandchild.

My list COULD get long.  It might take days to complete it!!!

The moral of this story is.......my life is full!  Full of the important things of life and blessed with a whole lot of extras.   I think it's really healthy to stop and count 'em up every now and then.

Kris Kristopherson used to sing about it, "what have I ever done...to deserve even one...of the blessings I've known?'

The answer...NOTHING!...NOT ONE THING...... have I done....it's all GRACE!

LOVE THAT SKYPE

I am extremely thankful that my land line and my cell phone do not have the capability of  "video call."  Who needs to see my hair standing straight up early in the morning?  Who needs to know that I'm still in my nightgown while washing the breakfast dishes as I take a call? Who needs to see my pre-make-up face on a lazy day or the vision of me trying on a swim suit anticipating summer? That would cause instant blindness or perhaps a stampede for the telemarketer or family member. Yep, when that phone rings I am still invisible. It's the last bastion of privacy!

Until now.

I believe it was George Jetson that predicted such a device as "phone-a-vision."  And folks,  it is HERE!  

We installed SKYPE on my computer a year or so ago and don't use it as much as I'd like.  BUT...when we DO click on that "place a call with video" button and one of the kids clicks on the other end,  magic happens! Right there just inches from my nose is one of the cutest faces in the universe.

It's usually Mollie or Gracie on the screen  and we have a great time, making faces at each other, blowing cyber kisses, telling stories,  welcoming new dollies into the family, and basically just giggling.  Our most recent cyber visit included a look at the bottom of four little feet,  new teeth growing in filling the empty spot of a 6 yr olds mouth, and watching and hearing a recitation of  "The Cow." It is a dose of medicine for far away grandparents. EVERY home should be so equipped.

We used SKYP to meet TIKI for the first time a year ago in November.  He'd arrived from Africa to his new home and family and as grandparents got our first glimpse of him over the Internet.

This past year we  connected with both sons while they were working in foreign countries half a world away.  Yes, I love SKYPE and the folks that invented it and keep it up and running! I have no idea how it works but have heard something about satellites and free!

It's a great connection tool that requires only a little preparation.  A quick fluffing of the hair-do or throwing on a robe doesn't take long at all.  However, I will NEVER click the "answer video call" box while trying on a swim suit.  It is my sense of responsibility for keeping the nation safe that prevents such reckless behavior.

NIGHTTIME ACTIVITIES

MUCH can be accomplished in the middle of the night! What's that about? Is this part of the aging process?

I'm pretty sure it's not just me because I have friends that tell me of their "middle of the night" epiphanies, work habits and hobbies.  But then again, all those friends are my age, too.  One gal even remodeled her house so she would have a pleasant sitting area near the bedroom complete with desk, books, and comfy chair.  The little nook was designed so her husband wouldn't even miss her as she slipped away and no light would disturb his snoring. She only had to go to the kitchen  briefly for the hot tea. (Perhaps she'll add a microwave and sink!)

There was a time when the idea of  me getting out of bed at 3 a.m. was considered insane, now it's ALMOST a daily occurrence. It's not a sad or frightening experience, but almost enjoyable.

I have my  best thoughts, and prayers at this hour.  There's a clarity of thought-stream that just isn't present during the hustle bustle of daylight hours.  Problems are solved, projects are completed and dreams for future fun with family and friends are planned. Memories can be relived with surprising focus and fond smiles.  My best stories, fiction and non, are put down on paper near a small nightlight. I can write a poem that no one will ever read or remember the words of a song that meant something  to me in high school!

Surely  everyone, regardless of age, has had the thrill of finishing a page-turner of a mystery at 4 a.m. That happens often, too.
There are a few books that I've read without taking a break or sometimes even a breath, from start to finish, cover to cover, and finally laid down in the wee hours.  Then there are those thrillers that would keep Rip van Winkle from any shut-eye.  I try to stay away from those.

Midnight (or later)  shopping can be done via the Internet. That store is ALWAYS open for business.

Of all my nocturnal activities, I draw the line at folding laundry or mopping the floor. Those are STRICTLY daytime chores! That law can be found in the Library of Congress.
Some of my neighbors are awake at this hour too. It's amazing what all goes on under the cover of darkness.  Looking out my window becomes somewhat of a theatrical site.

Entertainment is often provided by the wild creature category.  I've seen an opossum exploring my back patio, a mouse run across the concrete and leaves scattered  by the Oklahoma wind.  There's a fat old owl that sometimes sits on the fence.  A family of raccoons might pay a visit.  I've heard tales of coyotes but have yet to see them.

Once in a while a group of teenagers will stroll by.  Go figure that one!  That's another category!

Last summer a very odd old truck parked across the street. The security guard checked that out and told me a couple of folks were night fishing in the lake across the way. (Security guards are up and ready to answer their phone in the middle of the night, too)  Why would anyone want to go fishing at night? Why would anyone choose to be a night time security guard for a bunch of old ladies that don't sleep?

Then there is the newspaper delivery truck.  That's a dance worth watching!  There is a rhythm to sliding around the corners, pitching rolled up papers onto driveways.  The movements are as smooth as a ballet or the Texas two-step but not quite as sexy. I wonder when that driver sleeps.

Some neighbors are arriving home from working the late shift, some are just leaving for their long commute to their jobs.

There has also been a couple of times when I've witnessed young single male neighbors quietly sneaking home, parking their cars in their parents driveways.  They're always carrying their belts and shoes as they stumble to their doorways.  I silently wish them well.

Occasionally a fire engine siren will whiz down the back road and I find myself silently praying for the person that is in need of help.  Sometimes it's a police car and I'm sad for that officer who is heading to an unpleasant scene.

Yep, there's a lot of action during the night.  Sometimes it requires an afternoon nap just to keep up with it all!

ANDY IS COMING TO TULSA!

The Refinery of Tulsa  is hosting ANDY when he comes to town mid-January for a talk to teens and book signing.  He's actually coming to spend the week to serve as the Spiritual Emphasis Week pastor for Metro Christian of Tulsa.  He has scheduled other events outside the school for weekends and evenings.  His heart is for teens and he loves to get in front of them.

Tomorrow I'll be helping hand out some of these fliers to schools, churches, and places teens gather. IF you know of someone in that age group or a youth pastor, etc...that might be interested, pass this news along.

This flier was designed by Brittany, the store manager. It took her all of about 10 minutes. What talent!  And what a beautiful young lady. The Refinery is a "hip" clothing and book store for young people that often opens their doors for events such as this. 

It's going to be an exciting week having Andy (AND GABBY) here with us for a few days. I hope they'll let this old lady grandma stand in the back of the room so I can listen in!

NEW YEAR'S DEBATE

Everybody is talking about New Year's Resolutions this week.  The big debate is whether they are valuable or a waste of thought time.

I keep a few favorites stored away for each new January.  I pull them out, write them down, make an effort and then tuck them back into my memory  bank about February 12th.  They become "resolution reruns."  With this plan no time is wasted on making up new ones each New Years Eve  after the song Auld Lang Syne has been sung by the fat lady.

Many years ago I decided that rather than concentrate on resolutions that would make my life absolutely 100 % better and then get discouraged and fail I would instead choose to LEARN something new each winter. Scientists tell us now that continuous learning keeps the brain cells busy and active and supposedly wards off early dementia.  I'm all for that!  And the dreary winter months are a great time for such adventures. 

The list of past learning projects reads like a comedians joke book, the list of new skills I long to master mimics a  "bucket list." 

There was the year I learned to roller skate. I think I was 35 at the time and can happily recall that no bones were broken before ditching that sport.  I spent hours toning those inner thigh muscles before the realization hit that I would NEVER get past the first draft of roller derby wannabes.

A couple of years ago knitting was the obsession.  That hobby is still evident by three or four half-done projects laying around the house.  I pick it up from time to time  and very proudly declare "I can knit."  The big lesson learned there is that knitting is not as easy as knitting teachers say it is.  There are complicated stitches to master, a foreign language to decipher and patterns that would make NASA scientists shake their heads in dismay trying to figure them out.  After hundreds of dollars of classes and all the paraphernalia that goes with knitting I've "been there and done that." However,  I still consider learning to knit as one of my greatest accomplishments. 

Then there was the year of learning to ice skate. If I remember correctly that was the year the whole family was interested in the Winter Olympics! There were a few splats that would have won the prize on  America's Funniest Home Videos had we recorded and submitted them.

The year I tried to learn to snow ski left my teacher, who also happened to be our daughter-in-law Jamie, with unrepairable damage to her right hip. We have some family stories about that fiasco that still brings tears to our eyes and pain to the tummies with laughter.

Belly dancing, line dancing, and numerous exercise routines have also come and gone.

This year I've toyed with the idea of learning to play the violin.  Good violin music makes me weep. The purity of that sound brings tears to my eyes without any explainable emotion.  I would LOVE to master the violin.  That might take years, but I'm looking into lessons and the cost. Yes, the cost might inhibit some of my grandiose plans!

Speaking of cost, Honeybuns has suggested that my Jan. project be the art of budgeting! He loves numbers, always has and always will.  I can't even remember the pin number to my bank account so we had to make a rhyme out of it so I could function there.  I doubt learning to understand the family budget will rise to the top of the list.  Surely brain cells aren't stimulated by such a mundane boring  time consuming effort.

My debate now seems to focus on 1. learning to scuba dive or 2. learning to recognize and understand the great works of art. 
Since I have yet to learn to swim and have a terrible fear of being submerged in water, I'm leaning toward the art project. Surely there are computer programs or online classes that will be a great tool for this endeavor.  There must be great joy in being able to identify a  Rembrant from a Ruebens from a Reynolds from a Renoir at just a glance. Yes, that's it, this year I'll  aspire to become an expert in the great works of art. I'll begin today.  I have visions of new coffee table books, road trips to great museums and perhaps even a trip to the Hermitage. Wow, that would be fun! 

When Honeybuns gets his budget perfected I'll spring this news on him!

Now that that is settled, I'll get back to folding the laundry.  No need to waste any more time debating with myself!

CHRISTMAS WITH "OLD SPARKY"

This is creepy!

A few weeks ago I was visiting the Christian Women's Club of Huntsville, Texas.  I was the guest speaker for their December meeting and because their usual venue of the local country club was being renovated they decided to rent the conference room of the Texas Prison Museum.  The meeting room was lovely and the ladies were very gracious and kind. There were smiles all around, good food, good music, holiday greetings, gifts and kind words.

Just a few feet away from that lovely setting was quite a different scene.

Attached to the conference room are several much larger spaces that are designed to hold artifacts, pictures, testimonies, and a replica of the "Wall".  (I learned that the "Wall " is the actual prison that is located in downtown Huntsville.  It houses 1700 inmates and is the only place in Texas where death row prisoners breathe their last. )  The Texas electric chair is stored in one of these adjoining rooms.  It is on display for anyone to see and evidently thousands of folks stop by and visit it each year. I wondered why anyone would put the prison museum on their vacation itinerary.

Old Sparky  is in semi-retirement now.  The popular choice of execution these days is lethal injection. But this chair is serviced, checked, polished and kept in working order JUST IN CASE an inmate might choose this tool of justice.

Reading about capital punishment and hearing stories of horrific murders by psychopaths and evil men is one thing. I remembered John Wayne Gacey and Ted Bundy and others! To actually stand in front of this chair is spine-tingling! 

Justice must be satisfied, there is no doubt about that.  There is something deep within the heart of all mankind that cries out for fairness, for payment to be made, and for deserved punishment to be carried out. God Himself is the author of righteous judgement.

Visions of  living, breathing human beings strapped to that wooden chair flashed through my mind.   I didn't even want to think about what else flashed through those straps that held feet and hands. This hard piece of furniture shining in the spotlight had witnessed and was the cause of many deaths. Standing there and staring at it was a very sobering experience.

What a contrast  of emotions!  There I was happily celebrating Christmas and the life giving birth of Immanuel with those lovely ladies while just a few feet away this icon of  death was given a place of honor. I was questioning their choice of venues.

Oh, my! Perhaps the true meaning of Christmas was staring back at me and I was about to miss it.

The Christ child came, lived, died and rose again so instruments such as Old Sparky might never be needed!   HE came to remove the power and punishment of sin so that I and all those who believe will never have to face capital punishment in this lifetime  OR the eternal death sentence delivered by the just and holy God in the hereafter. 

How grateful I am that Jesus willingly came to experience the "Old Sparky" of His day.  The first  Christmas was the pre-requisite for the first Easter!  He came to die so that I might live!

I'm thinking that the Texas Prison Museum is the perfect place to celebrate Christmas!

Maybe I'll make a trip to Hunstville for Easter, too.

START YOUR ENGINES

Awww, Christmas memories, nothing like them!  Forget the chestnuts roasting by the open fire, Jack Frost nipping and Yuletide carols, the Braner family went to the track!!

Here we are lining up in the speed demon go-karts located at a great place called Andy B's Recreation Center in Tulsa.  Cute name right?  And since we have an Andy and his last name also begins with B we decided to  check out this place. It was fabulous and no disappointment!

For $5.00 each driver over 50 inches tall  and older than 9 years could round the track several times, darting in and out of traffic, squealing around corners and avoiding near misses. Shorter drivers had to ride shotgun with a taller person.

Looks simple enough and lots of fun,  right?
I was confident that I could participate in this event since all I had to do was turn left, turn left, turn left.  No great challenge there!

Gravity helped me get into that very low drivers seat and Mollie (age 3) was delighted to be my passenger.  After  fastening all the safety belts and a few directions from the owner of the place we shot out of the starting gate immediately as the shot sounded.

Mollie started laughing and squealing with delight.  Evidently she has a need FOR and enjoys SPEED!   It took about 2 minutes for both of us to realize that I had no idea what I was doing.  The accelerator and the brake were easier enough to master, but those sharp curves and fellow racers sent us bumping into walls and other cars immediately.  We bounced and laughed through lap #1.

Everyone was passing us at super sonic speeds as we putzed and crashed around the track.  We were a ridiculous sight.  At lap #2 she yelled out in her loudest three year old voice, "WE ARE TERRIBLE!"  Yes, we were!  But, no one had as much fun as we had that day.
We bumped around 8-10 more rounds pretending we were racing at the Indy 500! She loved every minute of it and I loved watching her laugh. There is nothing more precious on this earth than watching pure joy bubbling from a child.

As we slowed down and entered into the victory lap that signaled the end of our race we finally got control of ourselves and hugged tightly with the new knowledge of a shared experience.  Perhaps she was thrilled that she was still alive.  I PRAY she remembers that day well into adulthood!

Getting out of that low seat was another visual image but Honeybuns came to the rescue!  We gave that owner/operator a new Christmas vision as well as I struggled to my feet.

It truly is healthy to make "new" traditions!  Christmas Joy can be found in the most unsuspecting ways and sometimes in the oddest places.

BEST CHRISTMAS EVER

With fourteen people under one roof, a week long celebration planned, & dubious weather reports from CO the possibility of a Christmas disaster was looming.  HOWEVER, never one to underestimate the power of a Christmas miracle, this family forged ahead.

The weather cooperated, no flu bugs jumped on anyone, four blow-up beds were added to the decor and here it is the Monday after Christmas and I am one happy Grandma.  Andy, Jamie and their five very active kiddos drove 13 1/2 hours from Durango, CO....Philip, Nancy and their three drove 4 hours from Dallas.  I realize and am thankful for the sacrifices they made to  "come home" for Christmas this year. When all those children are grown their parents will then realize the feeling of "wholeness" that can only come from having all the chicks in the henhouse at the same time.   Having my grown children's feet under my kitchen table is a joy to behold.

It was the best celebration ever for me!  I have enough pictures and stories to keep this blog running for a long time, perhaps even a book is in the making!  We partied hardy.  Events included bowling, go-kart racing, a Jingle Bell band, much eating,  serious games of chicken foot, Christmas cookies, Nerf gun battles, gifts, Christmas light tour, and more eating! There was action every minute!                                   

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Interacting with the grandkids was so much fun.  I'll spend days listing the one-liners that I overheard.  The mental images of them playing are seared into my brain matter.

This picture reminds me of one not so pleasant incident.

Gabby, age 3, LOVES her froggie jammies.  They are fuzzy and footed and zippered, the kind every pre-schooler knows well.

At one point in the week we all heard her death scream coming from the guest bathroom.  She's a big girl, you know, and can "do it myself" when nature calls.  Hays was the first to reach the scene.  Gabby tearfully related her dismay.  She'd caught her little "outie" belly button in the zipper of  her froggie jammies!  Evidently sometimes the lessons of life must be experienced to fully grasp.

Gabby learned that  zippers can be dangerous!

The rest of us learned that sacrifices made to make family times happen are well worth the effort.  Memories are priceless!

SECRETS

A few months ago I joined a local writers group here in Tulsa.  These very gifted men and women meet just once a month to share tips and tricks of the trade.  Their meetings are informative, educational and encouraging.   I try to  attend when I'm in town but don't make it every month.

A while back the President of the organization gave a talk on how to write devotionals for magazines that do that sort of thing. It was intriguing.  I left with a spiral bound notebook full of ideas.   As usual she also stressed the importance of perseverance.  It was common to submit many articles to magazines only to receive the dreaded rejection notice.  Rejection is reality for wanna-be writers.  It's part of the process and expected.

I came home that night, sat down at my computer and whipped out a devotion, taking all of ten minutes.  I'd followed my newly acquired instructions to the letter. 

I conjured up memories and wrote of the day many years ago when  my mother-in-law who is now deceased shared with me the "secrets" of her county wide famous angel food cake recipe.  It was a simple day packed with urgency for I was the only one in the family interested and we both knew that when she was gone the recipe would be lost. The many steps it took to achieve the perfect angel food cake was daunting.   Many times the family would discuss the futility of the process when you could buy a cake at Walmart and have it digested in the time it took to get through step 3 of the "made from scratch" variety.

It was a quiet poignant exercise.   Her secrets were entrusted to me as the next generation of grandmas that would eventually have the time to sift that flour seven times, not six, not eight, but SEVEN!  Such secrets MUST be shared eventually.

The Bible tells us that believers are "entrusted with the secret things of God" and that those important secrets MUST be shared from generation to generation.  That was the connection  devotional magazines are crazy about!

That's the story in a nutshell.

I clicked on all the right icons, submitted my devotional to a well known Christian publication and WAL - LA, this past week I got a message saying that my article had been accepted for publication. 

UNBELIEVABLE!  Where was the rejection letter?  First and only article?  What?  You've got to be kidding me!

I felt like I'd just reach GO without going all the way around the board.  I'd not spent enough sweat and tears or years to warrant this news.

Honeybuns was startled by my uncontrollable laughter!  How could this possibly be happening? It certainly wasn't my writing skills that brought about this "success."  I have none!

I think it was the message.  One generation sharing with another something important! 

There is much to share, to talk about, to gently instruct.   There is a need and an urgency.

Who could have predicted that a cake recipe shared on a quiet day would have produced this conversation years later?

I read recently of a kindergarten that was re-located to a nursing home.  The children's classes were held IN the facility and young and old alike all ate lunch together, did recess together, read together and made some inter-generational friendships.  Behavioral problems in the children all but disappeared. Loneliness often experienced in homes for the elderly was replaced with anticipation and conversation.

Young and old interacting, sharing laughter, stories, perhaps secrets. It's a win-win situation. What a great idea! 

Today I think I'll be on the lookout for some young friend that wants to bake a cake!  I have a secret recipe!  IF the conversation takes a spiritual bend perhaps I'll even share a couple of secrets God has whispered in my ear.

SUGAR AND GABBY

Making plans and following through with details are always necessary for any holiday celebration to occur.  Yet it is always the unexpected moments that are the most memorable!  This past Thanksgiving was such an occasion.

Thankfully a digital camera recorded the event!

Gabby is feeding two WILD deer right out of her hands.

Gabby's other grandpa,  Pops White,  lives in Branson, MO  and loves all things wild and woolly. The area is populated with many deer and sometimes baby fawns need a little extra help to survive.   When such an orphan is discovered Pops cares for it, feeds it,  and babies it as most folks do their first born  biological child.  He names these beautiful creatures, each one is called "Sugar." They are never caged, never restricted and free to come and go as they are able to walk and fiend for themselves.

As time passes every "Sugar" grows up and he happily watches them leave his protective eye and  they trot off in search of their kinfolk. Each one a success story!

BUT that is not the end of the tale.  The grown-up "Sugars" find their way "home" again and again.  At supper time Pops carries a small container of food into the woods nearby and gently calls.  Soon, Sugar  and her family and friends appear.  Let's call him the deer whisperer!

Slowly and very trustingly those beautiful creatures greet their benefactor and are soon eating out of his hand.

This year we watched from about twenty feet away as Pops coaxed Gabby to follow him. She tiptoed quietly behind him  and stood stone still.  Because they trusted him, they trusted her also.

Three precious little ones are trusting............ and thriving on love.

THE GREATEST GIFT

This needs to go into the Guiness Book of World Records. Thanksgiving is tomorrow and I have ONE, only ONE Christmas gift left to purchase. (It's for Honeybuns and he has yet to give me any hints!)

 SO, I'm pitching the ten catalogs a day that arrive in my mailbox, trying to stay out of the stores and refuse to go surfing online! After the wrapping is all done I'll be ready to savor and calmly enjoy  the remaining days until Christmas! Anything that is purchased or made now is for the sheer recreation of the process!

I LOVE buying gifts for the kids and grandkids.  I spend a lot of time thinking of just the right thing, something that I'm just sure they would enjoy.  (It doesn't always work out that way, but I try!)

Today I'm thinking that I've been a little lax on the greatest gift I could give them.  During these days as they live through economic struggles, relationship challenges and our unkind, selfish culture I want to spend time in prayer.  I am SO thankful for the four big KIDS (Andy and Jamie, Philip and Nancy) and eight little KIDS (Hays, Maggie, Dax, Tiki, Gabby, Gracie, Mollie and Thompson) and  desperately want the best for them. Sounds "motherly" doesn't it???

My "how to pray for your children" list is mine alone and I may have already posted this in days gone by, but I'm whipping it out again for my own benefit.

Here's how it goes:  (usually about 4 a.m.  when I'm wide awake and have God to myself)

1. Protection - physically, emotionally and spiritually.
2. Holiness, rather than happiness.
3. Godly character rather than earthly comfort.
4. A desire for the smile of God rather than the approval of men.
5. A genuine desire to put others first above self.
6. An appreciation for every person they meet regardless of differences.
7. That their marriage would be an exhibition of divine blessing.
8. Business success that brings glory to God.
9. Relationships that challenge them to a godly lifestyle.
10. Wisdom, patience and sacrificial love for their children.
11.Participation in some type of ministry that forces them to pray and then experience God's answers.
12. Viewing their spouse as God's gift to them.
13. Dependence upon their spouse as #1 counselor rather than family or friends.
14. Honesty in everything said and done.
15. Generosity of forgiveness.
16. A determination to refuse to respond to criticism.
17. Kindness
18. Joyful abandonment and trust in the Sovereignty of God.

Now that I look at that, I may need to give this list to them to PRAY FOR ME.  I need every one of those characteristics developed in ME!  Yes, it's ME that's "standing in the need of prayer."

Well, what a revelation!!  I think I'll wrap myself in the gift of God's GRACE and today be very thankful for HIM, the GREATEST GIVER of love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control.   AMEN!

LET'S GO FLY A KITE!

It seems like such a simple thing.  But it takes just the RIGHT amount of wind to get a kite UP and AWAY.

And this seems like such a normal picture of a pleasant Sunday afternoon.  But pictures rarely tell the whole story.

We see a grandpa and three grandchildren, right?  No big deal!  Scenes like this occur all over America every day!

Look closer.  Honeybuns is giving kite instruction to three little ones and the wind is doing the rest.

The little boy hugging his "Papa" is Tiki and while Tiki and his siblings were visiting this past weekend we celebrated his one year anniversary with us.  Just one year ago he arrived in the United States having boarded an  airplane for the first time in his little life.

That airplane ride took him from his native Rwanda and his known home (an orphanage of many children and a few nuns)  to his new environment of a mommy, a daddy, two sisters and two brothers.  He spoke French with just a few English words and a great big smile to get him through the challenges of communicating.

Adopting an older child presents a different set of adjustments than adopting a baby but I'm writing to declare that TIKI is doing just FINE! 

He speaks fluent English,  knows slang, fights with his siblings,  and plays hard like every six year old should play. He loves books, knows his ABC's, can count, cries when he falls,  prefers milk to juice and knows when his brothers are giving him the short end of the stick.  He is delightful and we love him!

He tells a few stories of life B.A. (before America) and remembers some special friends.  He's requested that his friends be adopted soon, too.  He misses them.  But I'm pretty sure he would  never trade his new life here with his old life there.

Every child needs a family, and every family that can possibly open their arms and hearts needs a Tiki.  Is it really so hard to make room for just one more?   Just one more little guy or girl that grows, smiles, dreams, hugs, and prays.

He's still learning, but then again so are the rest of us.  

At our Thanksgiving feast he raised the question, "What's stuffing?"  Answer, "this dish, right here, want some?"

His question, "Do you put it in a teddy bear?"

And he LOVES kites.  Kites  are free to be carried by the wind, just like little orphan boys that are freed from their circumstances and  carried by love.



HUMAN TRAFFICKING

WARNING:  THE FOLLOWING INFORMATION IS VERY DISTURBING!

It's been a week now since my good friend and I went to an all day seminar in downtown Tulsa on Human Trafficking!  Now, how did an innocent little granny like me get involved in such a thing, you ask?  Well, I'm not sure.  Perhaps it was a suggestion from an older  wiser friend who whispered,  "you need to know about Human Trafficking."

The attendees included ICE agents, FBI folks, policemen, DHS workers and a scattering of other officials.  My friend and I were probably the only Granny's there. When asked what agency we represented we wrote "interested citizen."   The purpose was to inform these highly trained public servants of a new national phenomena. Our purpose was simply to discover the meaning of the words!
It was information overload!  The statistics shot out through the room like bullets.

We learned that OK is #1 in child abuse, #2 in teen pregnancy, #3 in divorce and #4 in women murdered by their husbands or boyfriends. The Interstate system through the middle of the country has created a crossroad of illegal interstate people moving.

The geography of  OK, AR, and KN is now defined as the epicenter of the action.

There is foreign national labor trafficking, foreign national sex trafficking  (700K a year) and U.S. citizen sex trafficking.  In the US we have domestic servitude, commercial sex, and child sex all going on under the radar.  At truck stops in OK thousands of young women are exchanged and transported from state to state.  If there are 50 trucks in a lot, 46 will be involved in some way!

 We've taught our children "stranger danger" but not "relationship danger."  95% of violations will occur with people children already KNOW!

The red flags that officers are looking for are: single parent homes, education level, and FAITH-BASED families.  Evidently Christians do not do a good job preparing their children to be "street smart," putting more emphasis on being kind, turning the other cheek, loyalty, and giving people the benefit of the doubt when judging character.  The Bible Belt is a  prime recruitment area for unsuspecting teenage girls. Usually all it takes is a fuss with mom before daughter lands in the clutches of a predator.

When pictures are sold online it becomes a trafficking offense. 20% of Internet porn is child porn.  99% of viewers are men, 91% are white. 

What to look for?  Derogatory tattoos, gang tattoos, (pimps like to brand their new property) difficulties with school friends, runaways or throwaways,  girls living with  boyfriends, cutting, burning, depression, mood swings, failing grades at school, aggressive survival skills, masters of manipulation.

There is even an "underground railroad" in place to provide safe harbors in order for girls to escape.

Two young women told their horrific true stories of how they were seduced into a way of life they never knew even existed. Their escape took YEARS!

There is SO much more.  Our culture is "sexed" to death and being a child in the US is a dangerous place to be.

Sounds like a foreign country, doesn't it?  It  all adds up to modern slavery.  And history will one day ask the question again, "where was the church when this was happening right under her eyes."
We've come a long way baby! And our babies are the victims.    I had to come home, jump in the bed, cover up my head and wait for morning!

There are several opportunities to become involved in this tragedy. We're investigating.  Many social service and religious agencies around the state are jumping into the fray to help is some way. Once informed it's  impossible to return to ignorance.

This is just chapter one of a long book! There is more to come as we get involved. 

I'm wondering if we have the emotional strength.

PARKING LOT INCIDENT

It was a cartoon moment!  An older woman had driven her small gray car off a curb trying to get out of a parking lot in downtown Houston.  Evidently she thought she was driving right out the exit ramp onto the busy street. 

She was stuck!  The front end of the car was in the street, the back end was in the parking lot and the middle end was hung on the curb,  looking very much like a teeter-totter on a playground.

Two muscular parking lot attendants were giving her directions. They had on their game faces, determined not to even grin. On the count of THREE she was to put it in reverse and "gun it." They would both lift the front end with all their might at the same time and hopefully push the thing back into the parking lot.

At about FIVE she let her rip.  The back tires squealed and smoked billowed.  The car went NOWHERE!  What were they thinking?
Did they truly believe they could LIFT the engine portion of a car?  Would that be about 1000 lbs.?  If the plan HAD worked she would have found herself in San Antonio by the TEN count!

My friend and I stood there in disbelief watching the whole scenario.  Another fellow stood with us, laughing out loud at the whole idea of his friends trying to LIFT that car up over the curb.

That poor woman was embarrassed beyond belief.   We walked away when we couldn't stand to watch it anymore.  They must've called a wrecker because when we returned a few hours later she was gone.   I can't imagine that poor woman trying to explain that bill to her husband!!!

I've never been so thankful I was NOT in the driver's seat!!

P-I-E-C-E-S

This past week I attended the Houston International Quilt Festival. Sounds about as exciting as watching grass grow, doesn't it?  Honeybuns would rather have his fingernails pulled out one at a time than have to attend such a gathering.  He's never been or does he plan to go! One friend suggested that a root canal would be more fun!

Given the title, it IS hard to imagine that a convention all about quilts and the industry behind such an "old lady" hobby could hold any one's attention.

Tens of thousands of women and a few good men converged on Houston this past week and made their way to the downtown convention center.  Hotels were filled and restaurant owners were thrilled at the revenue they brought to town. Airport lines were long and many languages were heard as quilt fans from around the globe

struggled through security checkpoints and taxi stands.

What IS the fascination behind this billion dollar industry?  The product certainly is NOT the utilitarian blanket that warmed the pioneers during THEIR trek across the country.  Now quilting is an art form like none other.

It always takes my sweet friend and I two days to see it all!  Half of the convention center is filled with vendors selling fabric, rulers, thread, books, patterns, needles, quilting machines that cost more than our first house, and all the paraphernalia that goes with sewing. 

Some people spend the entire week at the festival taking classes from famous author-quilters or TV-personality quilters.  Lectures are held and chairs are filled with spell bound quilting students.

One section of the convention center is reserved for "pain relief."  There are  special chairs, lights, shoes, and  lotions and potions for sale to help comfort the various strains and cramps that are evidently occupational  health hazards of hours spent cutting and piecing.  The awkward looking shoes help relieve the pain of hoofin' it to all those hundreds of quilt stores scattered across America.

In the other half of that huge building quilts from all over the world are displayed in a museum-like atmosphere.  They are hung against a curtained backdrop that enhances  color and texture.  A few are designated as "winners" with the thousands of dollars in prize money posted.  The blankets and wall hangings are categorized by how they were made, either by hand or machine,  by theme, embellishment or style.

Yes, these pictures I've posted are QUILTS.  Tiny pieces of different colors and shades of fabric were cut and arranged until these faces emerged.  These were NOT winners. Not one was judged "best of show."  There were hundreds like these that simply defied the imagination.  I wonder if the people that made these are still considered sane.

The Japanese quilts are made of even tinier pieces.  Perhaps those lovely small oriental hands were made for such tedious work.

Today's quilts are fascinating and they are ART.   The suppliers for these "artists" are smiling all the way to the bank!  Our quilting ancestors must be  rolling over in their graves at the insanity of buying a beautiful piece of cloth, tearing it into tiny pieces just for the thrill of sewing it all  back together again!  Quilting has come a long way, baby!

And next year I'll travel a long way to be amazed once again!

              

HALLOWEEN FEARS

Halloween 2010 is now history! 

It was a parade of gigantic proportions up and down the front sidewalk.  Well, maybe not gigantic.  In fact the numbers were down about 50% this year, perhaps because the day fell on a Sunday night and most little goblins had to be in bed by 9 p.m. We were ready for about 200, the average number of masked visitors.

Our neighborhood is perfect for such shenanigans.  There is no entrance gate, houses are relatively close together, and safety isn't as issue.  So it's possible to walk the streets and  quickly load up with enough candy to cause a sugar high and a tummy ache simultaneously.

The first two little boys arrived at 5 p.m.  They simply couldn't wait until dark and where is that rule written down anyway.  I heard them giggling as they walked toward the front door before they rang the bell.

Following them were princesses, fairies, Minnie Mouse, cheerleaders, actions figures, happy witches, Spiderman, bumble bees, monsters and teen-agers that admitted they had no costume but still craved the sweet stuff.  One boy brought his dog along, complete with a tiny black cape.  So cute!

Golf carts, wagons, and strollers snaked through the streets and parents watched as tiny legs timidly passed jack-o-lanterns and skeletons to get to the doorbells.  Pillow cases, plastic pumpkins and fancy totes were filled to overflowing.

We oohed and ahhhed at every costume and  "thank-yous" filled the air.  Parents cameras flashed and the event was recorded for the ages. Fun memories were made.

 Evidently everybody around here was prepared with treats because  no tricks were delivered.

The evil pagan holiday has evolved into a children's parade!

It's reported that terrible things occur on Halloween  each year and I don't doubt that for a minute.  Terrible things occur all the time in this wicked world. The  detailed history of this devil's holiday is surely the cause of  much insomnia, worry and heart palpatations!

The most frightening  element of Halloween 2010  I face is the left-over candy, which will no doubt find it's way to my waistline!!  EGADS, how scary is that!!