tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-140831762024-03-07T03:50:54.215-06:00The True VyneThe True Vynetruevynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05998290681038658399noreply@blogger.comBlogger846125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14083176.post-21934611456868490932018-10-30T20:50:00.001-05:002018-10-30T20:50:21.137-05:00I'm Still HereIt's been years. I've abandoned writing altogether for such a long while. I suppose I got complacent. Over the weekend, I attended The Evolving Faith Conference in North Carolina, and if there is anything that can light a fire of inspiration of fire under me, it's listening to a dozen radically, humble, gifted people (women mostly) preach openly about peace-making, social justice, loss and gain of new faith, and politics. So, here I am again. <br />
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To quote one of the speakers, Austin Channing Brown, "I'm still here."<br />
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I'm still here and so very changed.<br />
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Here is my honest clan update. My oldest son Peace served in the U.S. Airforce while married to his high school sweetheart. He finished his service a year ago and now lives a few miles down the road. We often do very nerdy sweet things together like share meals, watch a series together (holding our breath till A Handmaid's Tale begins again in the spring), and take our dogs to the dog park together.<br />
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My second son has struggled with life and relationships, sent every bridge ablaze and burned us all to the ground, and is now in sober living in California, thousands of miles from our Tennessee home. Hopefully he's doing the hard work of self-examination which may one day lead to reconciliation with the people he's utterly squashed and devastated here. He has a long hard road ahead. Despite that, I'd say he and I have a very loving relationship via Facetime, and I'm happy for that connection. He's such a charasmatic beautiful young man. <br />
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My third son is living his college dream at MTSU. He lives in a house of great friends which they have dubbed "The Fish Tank" which I am sure is quite a mother's cleanliness nightmare. We meet in other tidy places like the restaurant where he finally got his dream job of bar tending. He's paying his own way, so he doesn't come home much. When he does, his brother, sister in law, sister, and I all converge on the poor child and smother him with love, attention, homemade meal, shopping and special trips. <br />
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My girl, Pooh Bear, is a junior at a small public lottery school here in town which she loves. It's a perfect fit for her ambitious self. She mostly runs, studies, works as a bus girl, and hangs out with me and her boyfriend and our pets. Together we love all squishes (babies) and animals who happen to cross our path. I love our life together, and I am madly preparing to sob at every single "last event" next year, her senior year. When she sets off to college, it will feel to me like having my heart surgically removed.<br />
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Thankfully, my second husband, Lesk will make sure that does not happen. We've been married five years, and oh how he loves me and I him. I met him at my previous job and "a drink or a bite to eat" turned into forever. He is cautious, grounding, concerned, thoughtful, passionate, and maybe even more stubborn than myself. He takes incredible care of Pooh Bear, myself, our cars, and our home. Lesk is THE gift and saving grace of a life smashed and scattered by heartbreak and divorce. I can honestly say I'm grateful to have a do-over with the very best man I've ever known. Also, if I had it all to do all over again, this is exactly how I'd do it. The path makes me careful to appreciate and acknowledge what has brought me to the point, and I could not ask for more. Thankfully, he, myself and my first husband, Buck have a good relationship, especially where our children are concerned. Buck and Lesk remain generous and caring to all. Buck is also remarried to a precious soul now.<br />
<br />
I am still here.<br />
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As for being so very changed, it's this life surrounded on all sides by love and care that keeps me grounded and facing toward the sun.<br />
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<br />truevynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05998290681038658399noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14083176.post-76014962919721291532014-03-13T11:46:00.003-05:002014-03-13T11:46:57.386-05:00A Question of HealthcareHater of "Obamacare"? Want it kicked to the curb? Last week the Republicans voted to be rid of it for the fiftieth time. I, on the other hand, am a fan of the Affordable Healthcare Act. While those fighting against it must surely not be in need of healthcare or are sitting pretty with a nice cushy policy, my situation isn't so delightful. <div>
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I've spent the last four years after my divorce (which meant giving up the best snappy little federal Blue Cross Blue Shield health care policy) working for insurance. I found a job which matched my personality, family schedule, and included an option for insurance. I did not understand just how poorly that insurance, also through Blue Cross Blue Shield, covered my needs and the expense of it all. The option for insurance at the company was not a the benefit like it had been when I was a school teacher. In the end, I was paying $180 a WEEK of my meager office job paycheck for a policy with a $5,000 deductible, an office visit, co-pay, and paid half of my very expensive meds needed occasionally for my Crohn's. How expensive were my meds? One thousand dollars for one month answers that question. Though the work insurance plan covered a preventative colonoscopy, it did not cover for anyone with a problem (not the same as a pre-existing condition, mind you) without meeting the full 5K deductible first. My gastroenterologist had a fit when I told him I couldn't afford to have him do what he needed to do to keep an eye on significant things like the early colon cancer detection. I jacked up to the highest level of medical savings plan out of my small check just to be able to maybe cover one month of meds if needed.</div>
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When the Healthcare Marketplace opened, I waited for some of the kinks to get worked out and applied October 2013 thinking, "There is a good chance there is something more affordable than my costly work plan." It took a couple of hours, which was spent looking for social security numbers, tax returns, and pay stubs. Much to my surprise, the Marketplace said my new husband and I qualified for Bluecare/Tenncare which is Tennessee's uninsured program. People warned against state care, saying, "You can't pick your doctors, and the only ones on it are of poor quality." However, I decided with the expense of my work policy made it important to pursue the option. </div>
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I took off valuable work hours and went to my scheduled appointment with a social worker at the Department of Human Services. Desperate people were all around me talking to one another about which pantry to ask for the next meal, state housing, and health problems between extended smoke breaks. Some smelled like alcohol sweats. Some people were literally talking to themselves. One young father held his oversized jeans up by the crotch as if there were no other options. Human Services offered a slice of life I've not experienced since I lived in the city. There were three security guides asking, "Are you applying for help today?" and kicking out those who were not. I waited more than an hour to have my social worker to take me through the locked doors to her office space. Her desk looked as overwhelmed as she was- like an avalanche of paper and mayhem. She typed my name in the computer but could not delete the records of other clients under the same last name on my profile. Nothing she could do. She looked at my numbers and said, "No matter what Marketplace says, you will not qualify for any state benefits. Wait for a letter in the mail." </div>
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I also want to explain what it meant to take off work with insurance being an option not a benefit at that job. In my case, if I'd ever taken off two days or more of work for any reason, I would have OWED money for my insurance out of the next week's check and not been paid for the three days I did work. That is how expensive that insurance option ended up being! </div>
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I got the letter stating disqualification from state benefits of any kind in the mail after a few weeks. I went back to Marketplace and was told to appeal, so I could see other options. I started the appeal process. I got my first call from Marketplace to discuss my case during church on Sunday morning with no number to return the call. They called again during work and scheduled a 7pm appointment call when I was home with all my financial and personal information. Marketplace did not keep that appointment. They did not call to cancel either. I got another call at work and scheduled a second night time appointment which they did not keep either. Not long after and quite out of the blue, I got Bluecare insurance cards in the mail! Marketplace called back and told me to cancel my appeal if I was happy with Bluecare. </div>
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I told the truth about the hassle of getting here, so now let me tell you the rest of the story.</div>
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I started discussing the implications of such a thing with the insurance lady at work just when managers at work demanded (not asked) me to return to a position I no longer wanted, because the department had "gotten behind in my absence". That job had become impossible and dreaded by me over the course of years. Contrasted to the fabulous new position I was asked to leave, I realized it was vital for me to make a big change. I took a big girl pill and quit the dreaded job in hopes of finding something I'd enjoy doing forty hours of my week. </div>
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I haven't found anything yet, but I have begun to use my Bluecare. I developed a bump on the bottom of my foot and had to get it checked out. I began also experiencing some Crohn's issue for the first time in a 18 months. I called my family physicians of twenty years who graciously accepted my new insurance. Really! The PA there sent me via referral to a foot doctor and a new gastroenterologist. My former gastro doc who treated me for 20 years did not budge on taking Tenncare, and I respect his choice. I held my breath on both referrals and after my visits. I worried it might be lots like my Human Services visit. However, I could not be more happy with the care with dignity they have provided to me so far. I am set for a colonoscopy, unfortunate foot surgery, and got my big money meds. The meds I paid $500 a month for with my work insurance cost $3 with Bluecare. Got that folks? My jaw dropped at the pharmacy when I was asked for the money. I don't think I'm expected to pay for the other procedures. I am full of gratitude and speechless at this turn of events. Tell me how I couldn't be a fan of the Affordable Healthcare Act?</div>
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What is the lesson in all this? I dare you to put me in the entitlement category after missing ONE sick day of work in the last four years, and paying dearly for not so hot insurance. I will find another job, and I'll probably end up paying a heap for health insurance there too. In this interim, I am not sweating bullets on what to corner to cut to afford, so I can live in wellness. </div>
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If you hate "Obamacare" on some principle, consider also those in need and what prejudice you might hold. You might be surprised at who is experiencing something "for the people and by the people.</div>
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truevynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05998290681038658399noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14083176.post-33700630281199752872014-01-13T04:32:00.000-06:002014-01-13T04:32:08.773-06:00It's Happened Before<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Let me go fight the world alone.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I will put on my work pants and a smile like nothing
happened.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Like you didn’t just pull my hair to steal my icecream.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What does it matter anyway?
It’s only icecream.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I can get more, right? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And it’s cold outside.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Icey really. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It was never a game for me.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I don’t like playing.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Tit for tat.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Exchanging my anger for yours.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’m going to stand again.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Stamp the snow off my
shows.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Brush off my coat. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It’s rough out there.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But I’ve done it before without you standing behind me.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Rooting for me.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Back to getting what I deserve.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And facing the polar vortex without.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I don’t want to get used to it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
But just what if I do?<o:p></o:p></div>
truevynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05998290681038658399noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14083176.post-30870051914765591092013-07-04T05:53:00.000-05:002013-07-22T19:16:27.663-05:00A Message Not SentI did not send it. I would have to take out all of me and shoot much higher toward something Jesus offers. I won't send it, but writing it down helps me understand myself.<br />
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
"Why do you keep coming?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It certainly can’t be the warm reception of people glad to meet you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How ironic that you would disrespectfully come
in late, look directly at me, and instantly once recognition came, you added some
kind of unkindness to your expression. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I noticed afterward your head down and how
you refused to make eye contact. With anyone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Were you ashamed?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You sat off by yourself, to yourself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why bother?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Why come?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Are you making some
kind of statement?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What circumstances
would you want me to come to your son or daughter’s wedding? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know that answer and sincerely wonder why
you would welcome yourself to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">my oldest
son’s </i>most important day?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>While you
couldn’t have possibly ruined the moment for me, the glimpse of your happy yellow dress
reminded me of your harsh judgment of who I am.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How could you come looking like a
daisy on the outside with a heart of darkness towards me on the inside? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Deep down do you believe my children wanted
you there?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Do you think it is difficult
for them at all?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You have not made an
effort to share yourself with them on any occasion, yet you appear on this day?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Whomever he chooses will need to overcome the
destruction of his past and assure my children that more is not to come.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If not, they could never really love and
trust.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Are you up for that?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Do you even care about that essential work of
reconciliation?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A few years ago, when I first heard of you, I actually took
up for you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Rooted for you even. I
prayed God would give him a good woman, who would help him through his pain and
mess. When I learned of you, I thought this could be such an opportunity for
his healing and wholeness. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I hoped you
would bring peace to him and therefore my children. I told him from the
beginning of the divorce process I wanted good things for him and his life, and
I meant it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I still mean it now. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had
no reason what so ever to believe that you would hold prejudice against
me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>However, I understand you have said
bitter things without even knowing me- how selfish I am.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you ever tried to get to l know me, heard
my heart and could still say the same things I’d understand, but we have never
exchanged a spoken or written word.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Where
do you judgments come from?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Who I am is
easily known if you would have eyes to see beyond ONE wounded man’s opinion. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I understand we have mutual friends that might
be glad to talk with you about me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ask
them your hardest questions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have not
one skeleton in my closet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Perhaps you think you are 'being there' for him- as if his dad isn't right at his side.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Is that enough to justify bringing ANY hint
of animosity and distance to a joyful event?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I would welcome love and kindness to any occasion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you would like to try, I am open.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If not, please consider that family events concern
others beyond him and you."</div>
truevynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05998290681038658399noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14083176.post-47825832322591275762013-03-03T21:12:00.001-06:002013-03-03T21:12:12.015-06:00I removed the deep red long stem Valentine's Day roses from the tall glass vase this afternoon. I know the old gardeners trick to remove all greenery from the stems from the water line and under, so the water was not stale and dank with slimy leaves. I am aware these fine deep red flowers will dry nicely as I bind them with ribbon and hang upside down in an open spot on the wall in my living room beside my son's photograph who is just about to graduate from basic military training next week. I have two other similar happy bundles in my dining room; one from last Valentine's Day and another from my children the previous year. My mind lingered back to my life two years before when I endeavored to treat the hearts and roses holiday as just another day. That Valentine's Day was nails on a chalkboard awful. At that point, my divorce had been utterly finalized nearly a year before. I'd spent the year before trying to make a beautiful new life for myself, and I'd just recently begun to realize a an ever present longing, a nagging of my soul, to be truly loved. I tried to push the feeling away, curb it with friendships and nourishing things like exercise and silence. God had been so good, gentle, kind, and remarkably visible and audible to me in a way He'd never been in those lonely single days. I remember sharing my longing with Him and asking for Him to either take it away or make a way. The longer the waiting went, the more disgruntled and dissatisfied I became with God. In one passionate plea quite literally on my knees, He mercifully whispered "April" to me. I relaxed a bit and waited for my birthday, April 1. I'm sure I had some delightful birthday fulfilled with my dear friend and her husband and family. I was the proverbial third wheel same as ever. As the month proceeded I got downright mouthy and petulant with God reminding Him that this was the month He was to come through. I struck the days off to the bitter end of the calendar month, half in protest and half in hope. I decided to be open minded to any prospect. On April 28th I got a call asking for a drink or dinner from someone who works at the same company I do. Plans for that took a few weeks to come together. I was terrified that co-workers would find out (wasn't sure of policy) and we negotiated a fairly safe plan of contact which thankfully remained until we were ready to share our relationship publicly much later. His respect of me and my stature of single motherhood was evident from the start. He offered me a true love I'd never known, and only now do I understand, a love not experienced by many. Something rare and treasured...and faithful. So, I've taken what he has offered me a give back to him in the same way. We married New Year's Eve at the stroke of midnight.<br />
<br />
I've shared a roller coaster year with my love in watching my oldest, Peace fall in love and also join the United States Air force. This week my Pooh Bear was thrown from a frightened horse. She suffered memory loss from a concussion and hurt positively everywhere. Her memory of everything except the event has returned by God's good grace, but I have felt helpless and frightened while watching her confusion and pain. My husband held my tear stained face in his hands at breakfast last week and assured me, "She is not alright just now, but I promise she will be." His certainty astounds and comforts me, and she most certainly is much better this week.<br />
<br />
<br />truevynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05998290681038658399noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14083176.post-69444746598746662672012-08-19T19:42:00.001-05:002012-08-19T19:42:30.517-05:00Peace got sworn into the Air Force last week and is waiting to hear about when he will be assigned. I hope to keep it together and not fall to pieces thinking about all that means. I am satisfied with our relationship being so good at his impending departure. In some ways, our recent closeness makes it more all the more painful for me as he prepares to fly. His precious girlfriend moved into her dorm at Carson Newman, an hour away Friday, and I miss her presence around my house. She's so everything I've wanted for my son, and if I have any perception left in me, I believe they are going to last. Peace and her entire family and her best friend settled her in...she had an entourage. She called tonight saying she'd see me next weekend when she comes home to visit. Love that.<br />
<br />
I'm in the middle of developing my relationship into something more with my person. Relationships are fragile and complicated for me. I want it all. Everything. It's what I'm willing to give. I may come across as too much, but I'm not settling or overlooking anything this time. A friend of mine from work suggested he heard "me" in the song "Glass" by Thompson Square, and I think he's right on the money. I am shaped by the light I let through me, and I am glass. My participation in this new relationship has staggered and halted on my part so many times, because I don't want to be broken so wholly again. Trusting in love is a new sport altogether for me.<br />
<br />
Pooh Bear tried out for the local production of The Nutcracker yesterday. Thanks to Svetlana, whose daughters participate every year, Pooh's dream of performing will be fulfilled. Svet knows the ins and outs, the schedule, and can help Pooh Bear make it to practice when I cannot. It also bears mentioning my girl did so well in trot at Nationals with the American Vaultling Association. Her courage astounds me. This year she got a great teacher at school but is unhappy with not having a good friend in her class. <br />
<br />
Wise One switched from high school football to cross country after realizing he'd get to participate in the latter and practically never in the former. He got good classes and great teachers. I see him putting effort and thought into this year already...something which did not happen last semester. So, so glad he is home, and I see joy in him. <br />
<br />
Tater changed schools and joined football there. I pray he sticks to it! We talk sometimes, but I don't see him often enough as he lives with his dad. I let it be his call which is the only way things work between us.<br />
<br />
I try hard not to look back at what could have been still. The changes over the last three years reflect in the eyes and habits of my children. I'd describe this mostly as reluctant independence. God knows, if I could rewrite the past, I would. I am writing feverishly a new life, a beautiful life after. Now If I could just breathe...exhale as I watch my children grow into the people they will become.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />truevynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05998290681038658399noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14083176.post-6570115748992974152012-06-21T21:39:00.001-05:002012-06-21T21:39:18.750-05:00Peace meets with an army man tonight. a dad from Scouts. They are discussing the military as Peace wants to join the Air Force. Peace's taken the entrance exam and will be meeting with recruiters for the third time next week. I'm not sure how much I've done wrong or right to have a son headed this direction. He's more whole world minded than most people I know, and I'm not sure how that matches up with U.S. military folk. <br />
<br />
The pacifist side of me knows I tried to raise a non-violent citizen of the world. Turns out, he is such a person. He loves diverse cultural experiences. He values and respects differences. He hopes to get a position taking photos not shots in the airforce. Is this possible?<br />
<br />
Part of me that knows I could only have a chance at being a pacifist, because there are men and women who lay down their own lives for my freedom every. single. day. So, I'm proud my son would be that kind of individual. <br />
<br />
A few years ago when Peace mentioned his interest in the military, I made him watch any war movie I could get my hands on...Saving Private Ryan, Full Metal Jacket, Hot Locker. He stopped talking about it for a while. College visits and discussions took over. As a senior this last year, he did a paper on drone airplanes in robotics class and revisited the service option. He's moving forward slowly, so as not to choose a position without full understanding. He wants a job that he will love, and the army man is helping him select at this moment. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
truevynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05998290681038658399noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14083176.post-3154473594763294072012-04-22T18:29:00.001-05:002012-04-22T18:29:30.927-05:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipWq5HkIFhsDpr7pi8l7SmqFvzyNiEXe3jH8HntjYRAuEihvYJpjHtLXoV2YkOm72mzZAyG9d17zJBV8Qkl4qmamZkAg0SbWP4hGy892RznDxv74B8uR8u4ks_3C93lXXGjXU-Vw/s1600/prom+032.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipWq5HkIFhsDpr7pi8l7SmqFvzyNiEXe3jH8HntjYRAuEihvYJpjHtLXoV2YkOm72mzZAyG9d17zJBV8Qkl4qmamZkAg0SbWP4hGy892RznDxv74B8uR8u4ks_3C93lXXGjXU-Vw/s320/prom+032.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
Me, Peace, and sweet prom date.<br />
<br />truevynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05998290681038658399noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14083176.post-30476418629100092452012-04-22T18:27:00.002-05:002012-04-22T18:28:14.080-05:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1L9MMAkHbnNjBL20xAkPjAF9ba7xebwV6kpInTDV44VxHo31tqbsylhx8MsUUcpMrXvIS3F-om6vt9N-fc1Ka78GqiJN5HfvDUL1dmnYpFtJoT-wk_4JRukz8YX1zaJVahYb4MA/s1600/prom+001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1L9MMAkHbnNjBL20xAkPjAF9ba7xebwV6kpInTDV44VxHo31tqbsylhx8MsUUcpMrXvIS3F-om6vt9N-fc1Ka78GqiJN5HfvDUL1dmnYpFtJoT-wk_4JRukz8YX1zaJVahYb4MA/s320/prom+001.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
My gorgeous Tater.<br />
<br />truevynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05998290681038658399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14083176.post-62608457887763052742012-02-25T18:12:00.001-06:002012-02-27T21:01:15.603-06:00What if a person was in a meeting and another makes a seemingly off-handed statement, quite matter of factly as if it was common remark, yet it is a quote so relevant and meaningful, that the person wanted to stop all the good and orderly things going on just to create some space in silence to ponder. What if that person, myself, came near to tears at the truth of it. I wanted to put the world on pause, like a moment from a movie, when all the characters and action suddenly stopped while one character wondered about and processed inner thoughts aloud.<br />
<br />
But it was as if no one has heard, or everyone present else knew it.<br />
<br />
Really? Really.<br />
<br />
So here it is for me to chew and devour as I like.<br />
<br />
"For me, justice is just another word for healing." Chris Woodhulltruevynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05998290681038658399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14083176.post-72508663893319443792012-02-16T20:41:00.000-06:002012-02-16T20:41:22.775-06:00Geez! Where does the evening go? Rushing by me into the plethora of big girl responsibilities.<br />
Doing better this week loving the unlovely,<br />
because<br />
I have been loved so well.<br />
Valentine's Celebrating lasted days, not just one, and I was utterly lavished. <br />
<br />
Saturday I acted like a grown up. Had a quaint dinner with friends and went for drinks afterwards, just like in the movies. We attended to the Library, a tiny bar at the Oliver Hotel in downtown Kville. The drink menu displayed in an encyclopedia, and the cheery beverages were named for literary characters like The Mr. Darcy and The Artful Dodger. I had my first Mojito(s), and I'm sure I'll have another or several others in the future. The fanciful woman who named all the drinks and I had a hoot of a conversation about an art film director stuck on realistic characters whom I said she could find at the Broadway Kroger anytime, day or night. As usual, the company of friends and my love were delightful. <br />
<br />
Tonight has been spent thinking, washing and scrubbing. Peace come down rather suddenly with a serious infection on his hip which may even be mrsa. This was discovered after a trip to the ER, lancing, and a double whammy of vancomycin. YIKES! All clothing, bedding, towels in laundry and bathrooms disinfected tonight. I don't know if he meant to leave it out for me, but I read a stunning piece of fiction Peace wrote for class. That young man can write. <br />
<br />
My girl, Pooh Bear, continues to reel from her life with divorced parents. I had my usual Thursday elementary school lunch in which the beginning was spent welled up in her tears. She has needs we cannot find ways to meet, so I'm doing my best to encourage her through it all.<br />
<br />
Wise One continues on a steady path of good.<br />
<br />
I'm at my usual loss for words concerning Tater. One minute, he's calling me names which raise the hairs on the back of my neck. The next, he is saying, "Hey, momma. What's up?" and laughing. <br />
<br />
Work has been a different and better ballgame with the event of a wonderful, steady, thoughtful new boss. And with the inappropriate co-worker moved out to another department, I could not ask for more. Except money. More money. And benefits. Those are always welcome.<br />
<br />
Looking forward to a weekend with my love and children. Also have the privilege of sitting in on a friend's discernment committee for priesthood.truevynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05998290681038658399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14083176.post-80252593016764721272012-02-07T20:34:00.000-06:002012-02-07T20:34:07.195-06:00I'm not inspired to write about anything in particular. I'll just journal thoughts for the day. I'm struggling. Wrestling and not winning at loving the unlovely. For example, a neighbor has let his chaos loose on my home by not taking care of his own business. I sat in church Sunday praying for him and for my heart to bless his home instead of all the curses I've been shooting through my glaring eyes his way and in my wicked thoughts. There is another person I shall not be rid of who has tortured me endlessly with thoughtlessness,sarcasm, carelessness and blatant unkindness. I've prayed for my heart to let go for a long while now, and for the first time in a very long time, I saw a little light...but not in myself. Hoping it's something of not giving up on asking for God's help. I've had another setback with someone I love dearly and again have no recourse to change the situation on my own. I'm not fond of single womanhood and it's multitude of impossible responsibilities. Of all issues, money and car problems cut me to the core, and it's been a few months chalk full of 'em. Not fond of fraction homework either. Too many balls get dropped I never knew existed and certainly did not want to lose. Plenty do single so much better than myself.<br />
<br />
I do have some blessings in my life now for which I am grateful. My son, Wise One, continues to do well. The friends he stayed with last spring and summer got him firmly past his disdain for this, his family. He is actually fun to be around. More blessings. I now have two particular people who daily look out for me and my best interest in practical ways. Pooh Bear has a "second mother", Miriam. Miriam does not let her own set of excruciating personal challenges stop her from being available when we are in need, desperate or otherwise. I remember crying on her front porch when I realized I couldn't be there for Pooh Bear in a hard situation, and Miriam stepped up to the plate with, "As long as I am around, your daughter will always be taken care of when you cannot." My other person is a man who is teaching me about true love and faithfulness as I've never known before. He gives sound advice without ever telling me what to do. He is a great listener. He rescues me (and my children) from difficult situations at times. I appreciate his perspective on the trials of single fatherhood, so I might gain understanding and compassion where I lack. He can fix anything, and says he intends to fix me. He knows how to make living fun, free, and easy. Balances out my high strung, intense, volatile personality. <br />
truevynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05998290681038658399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14083176.post-19458296313781127252012-01-02T21:02:00.000-06:002012-01-02T21:02:01.895-06:00MonotonousI answer the phone<br />
Sweetly<br />
Conjuring interest in an unknown caller<br />
<br />
I may know this soul,<br />
or it may be a stranger.<br />
<br />
<br />
Today I am a receptionist.<br />
<br />
May I help you?<br />
With whom would you like to speak?<br />
One moment please.<br />
Certainly.<br />
Fascinated for the second of connection.<br />
Lingering is not accomplishing.<br />
Friendly, only brief.<br />
I am not permitted tbe time to<br />
ask about the wife<br />
who has cancer,<br />
or the child's graduation.<br />
That would gum up the whole process<br />
now wouldn't it?<br />
Love must be given in a snapshot.<br />
No feature length films today.truevynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05998290681038658399noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14083176.post-10424797969634919822011-11-22T21:42:00.000-06:002011-11-22T21:42:39.139-06:00I have the time and will to write for the first time in a long while and I've cut my finger badly tonight. Ironic. My children have flown the coop to see their dad suddenly, and I have the evening alone. I have thanksgiving fixings to tend, but it's a rare thing not to have a young person about to tend these days.<br />
It's been a challenging day having gotten a call from the high school that one of my sons is suspended from school...third time in a year and half...for skipping class and breaking a mirror in the rest room. I don't even know what to say except, "His dad will be at the disciplinary hearing next week." My hands are utterly tied and my spirit hurts for my son. Without proper support I've nowhere to mend with him.<br />
A friend at work asked me about divorce and children. I told him it was the worst possible thing to do to them. No doubt about it. I also explained in my case that I would have to have given up personhood to stay married. He looked at me with a question mark clearly between his eyes, but it's all I could or would muster. My children suffer deeply. In the last year, I nearly lost everything with another of my sons, Thanks to an incredible family's support and loving care, the same young man smiles and enjoys life everyday now, whereas last year he spent the year in such a dark place. I'm so very grateful to spend thanksgiving in brighter space with him. <br />
<br />
truevynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05998290681038658399noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14083176.post-54683996191326695982011-05-15T09:06:00.001-05:002011-05-15T17:19:33.783-05:00Need to clear the cloudy fish tank of my mind with some writing. My blog is a place where I write lessons learned, and I'm learning some big new things about myself lately. First of all, I figured out in the last few weeks that I'm not as healed as I thought. In exploring friendships with men in particular, I've got a long way to go. I wouldn't allow myself male friendships to protect my marriage which I believe is appropriate, but somewhere along the line I stopped being open to any depth with the opposite sex. Thankfully, I have a few good men around who are kind enough to work with me now. In some ways, it's torn open some old deep wounds, and now I'm am figuring out how to stop the bleeding. I am conflicted about how to proceed. Last week in church, I was listening about one friendship in particular and God clearly spoke, "This is a gift for your healing." Really? How can this be? I know it's stirred up a hornet's nest in me of lack I'd experienced in marriage. I've doubted myself as a woman through heartbreaking words and actions done there. Last week, I was told I needed to wipe that slate clean, and believe and trust in the lovely person that I am. I'm trying. I really am. I ask every day, "How can this be?"<br />
And on another subject, a while back in early April, my faith began to return. Claire, J, and Dreamer gave a symphony of "I know you are mad at God, but it's time to get up and over." They don't speak to one another, and I found it astounding they spoke to me in the same way in the very same week. A voice of three had to be a Spirit thing, and I listened. So, I dusted myself off from my four month long pity party, and stopped holding God responsible for all things hard or negative. I've sunk back into listening prayer and spiritual growth like a familiar old comfy easy chair. It's a relief to allow myself to be a friend of God. In hating God, I hated myself. In loving God, I can look at my untidy self with the perspective of kindness again.truevynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05998290681038658399noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14083176.post-72771969557820496072011-02-10T06:05:00.001-06:002011-02-12T08:48:44.967-06:00Where's the snow? The promise of an unplanned break for tired children?<br />
I suppose it blew all around us but not here. I hear Nashville got lucky.<br />
<br />
I'm putting on the discipline to write, but not here. Here are my constant thought these days.<br />
<br />
I struggle spiritually. everyday. A friend suggested I'm joining the Saints in the<br />
Dark Night of the Soul. If that means the closeness I have always felt with God is gone, then it<br />
must be so. There wasn't a day in my life I didn't know I was God's favorite. until now. Everyone<br />
else seems to fit the bill. but not me. I'm mired in the mundane without condolensces. One day is not<br />
better than another. It's always the same. day after day. The care I once felt is no longer present.<br />
<br />
My pastor wondered in a lecture at the awe of how God holds every tiny atom together, and how if He let go, matter would simply fly into infinity. I know he wasn't trying to suggest this, but all I could think was, "Oh, God. Please just let go of mine. I don't mind to spread across the universe in a million little pieces."<br />
<br />
If I have any faith, which is questionable, it is by pure force of will.truevynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05998290681038658399noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14083176.post-9970548516611867722011-01-25T20:35:00.001-06:002011-01-25T20:46:54.575-06:00I need shelter.I need shelter. <br />
<br />
This home I make, <br />
it is shelter. <br />
<br />
But inside and outdoors noisy. <br />
It’s beautiful, <br />
(but or is it and?) <br />
always a bit imperfect. <br />
<br />
The artistry of the saints surrounds me <br />
in the woodwork, <br />
silver spickets, <br />
mosaic, paintings. <br />
Talents shared.<br />
<br />
I want to be swallowed up in<br />
<br />
joy <br />
<br />
here.<br />
<br />
Sometimes, instead I’m tears.<br />
<br />
My table, please<br />
be rich,<br />
blessed.<br />
Each spoon prepared with love.<br />
I don’t want to settle for bearable.<br />
<br />
Beds bid fresh and warm as toast.<br />
Sleep wraps my exhausted body.<br />
My nightstand full of books,<br />
And good intentions.<br />
The clock reminds me to commit.<br />
<br />
Colors whisper welcome. <br />
Squash to greet. <br />
A hint of lavender gravity.<br />
Blue sky to soothe.<br />
<br />
My children behave politely,<br />
engaged<br />
on good days. Other days,<br />
some <br />
Hate me.<br />
<br />
The black wiry dog pants adorable.<br />
I sweep mounds enough of his hair<br />
to <br />
Create<br />
an entirely new creature.<br />
<br />
My beloved <br />
fireplace <br />
burns peace, <br />
A blanket for my empty arms.<br />
<br />
Only baths and creams caress and care for my <br />
aging skin. <br />
<br />
The white porch swing shivers in the <br />
Wind. <br />
I’ll only spend time with her<br />
in the warm weather, <br />
After daffodils.<br />
<br />
Birds twitter to the feeder. I don’t need to see them. It makes<br />
My heart <br />
Glad that they visit. <br />
My grandmother’s spirit dwells there<br />
as well.<br />
<br />
Don’t ask me about<br />
My work.<br />
It weighs <br />
Heavy.<br />
<br />
I don’t share the longings of my heart<br />
With any person <br />
who can share them <br />
Intimately.truevynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05998290681038658399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14083176.post-15716980130497060552011-01-16T21:45:00.000-06:002011-01-16T21:45:46.944-06:00I met with my spiritual adviser this afternoon. I have to force myself to believe it was a gift from God to his daughter- a daughter who feels like God shouldn't be giving her gifts. My spiritual adviser is an old friend I've known for a hundred years, and thankfully I knew it was highly unlikely that I could offend him with the content of my current dark thoughts. And very importantly, I knew he wouldn't care if I cried ugly. Apparently, crying is the new important spiritual work I need to be about now. My friend doesn't judge and condemn in these kind of matters; he's a rare gift of a person. He can listen and hear with his heart. I explained to him the precarious state of my faith. I spoke out loud, maybe the first time in my life, "I am angry with God. Why did He make me like this? Why can't I be a person who isn't so..." But I am that person. I am angry with God and the way I'm made. And this horrible hand of cards I've been dealt. I've never been happy to just go along with the crowd in bliss. I'm not satisfied. I want to<br />
<br />
change....the....world....with who I am,<br />
<br />
but I am not. I've merely been surviving. Not grieving. Not growing. My friend told me it was time to begin to dream again, and most of me staggered internally. I can't live my dreams, so I've shoved them down completely. Shut the door, put on my big girl pants, and walked away into the what-I-have-to-do-world. The kind of atmosphere where I need to provide my own health insurance and retirement. There's no room for theological study and contemplation or writing. I have only time for work, menu planning, grocery shopping, laundry, times tables memorization, cross country meets, football games, vaulting practice, teenage pep talks, reading aloud and spelling words. Recently, I've opened my packed schedule for regular bouts of sobbing. After all that, there is no sacred space- only exhaustion. <br />
<br />
All I can manage now is hope deferred, and that's never a good thing. <br />
<br />
My assignments from this spiritual advising session seem to be meet again, read some inspiration, write and cry. And somehow, this makes me feel a wee bit better.truevynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05998290681038658399noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14083176.post-26948496340504425362011-01-08T23:17:00.000-06:002011-01-08T23:17:55.977-06:00Made it through the holiday season- barely. Wise One took an emotional nose dive somewhere in November, and it has rocked, shaken, and tested my faith like never before. It's official- not one of kids is "resilient" as they say. Pooh Bear is the only one who hasn't gone through a time of utter hate for me and what I've done to our family. She may some day when she is older. It became completely overwhelming when all three boys hit that I-can't-stand-my-mom thing all at once. I can't stand me either. I'm emotionally and physically exhausted, and it shows in every way. <br />
<br />
Wise One desperately needed an adolescent counselor, making a total of three kids in therapy with different counselors. His counselor recommended Buck move to his own place to give Wise One a more definite sense of divorce. Dr. G. explained kids are way more black and white, and it might help dig Wise One out the hole of depression he'd entered if he had more normalcy. So, Buck and Tater have moved. Surprisingly, it has helped me enter some deeper healing I hadn't let myself do. I can imagine it is the same for Wise One as well. After two months of full on disgust with me, he gave me permission to clean his room tonight. No small accomplishment, since he was sure he couldn't trust me with his stuff until now. I spent hours weeding out clothes, sorting things, and collecting trash. I wonder what his response will be tomorrow when he gets home from his dad's?<br />
<br />
Tater comes to visit a few times a week, and makes mayhem. He spend the entire time saying, "That is stupid. Dad lets me do that, and I don't have to do what you say anymore." Terrific. Hopefully, this will get better with time, since I tow the same line I always have. <br />
<br />
Peace drove himself to work for the first time tonight. He called me when he got there safely and when he left to come home. God bless his conscientious heart! I love his caution and carefulness. His work is just a few miles down the road, but this is such a big accomplishment and relief to me to have another driver coming up in the ranks. Last night, it worked out that I could take him to dinner alone, and we had the best heart to heart talk we've had in a long time. I got to see a clear picture again that his compassion and kindness are still rooted firmly in place. <br />
<br />
At times I wonder if the damage done to my children will be redeemed. Makes the gap, the chasm, in my faith more visible doesn't it? If my children are redeemed, it obviously won't have anything to do with me- only the grace of God. Peace's conversation with me last night shined a little light on my dark heart. <br />
<br />
I'm reading Angela Thomas' book <u>My Single Mom Life</u> which a thoughtful friend gave to me along with a basketful of goodies for Christmas. I am amazed at her insight and perspective. She's spot on when it comes to feelings, and I'm trying my best to learn from her "lessons learned". I'll pass the book on to the next single mom who asks...let me know if you think you'd like this type of good read.<br />
truevynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05998290681038658399noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14083176.post-18382443774392168272010-11-06T22:07:00.000-05:002010-11-06T22:07:21.440-05:00Thinking things through lately about this different and beautiful life I'm creating and feeling like it's not where I'd like to be. I've tied up a few loose ends this week knowing there is more end tying to come. Still haven't sold the farm- not a great market for sellers at present. It's a dangling bit of unfinished business I'd give anything to resolve. Then there are the constant unraveling issues which arise with children and their needs. <br />
<br />
I cannot be the mom I want to be. <br />
<br />
Peace needs to be looking seriously at colleges, and I don't have time to invest in that like I'd hoped. I see him trying to be responsible for far too much, and I can't stop it. Tater is in an okay place now but not much is being asked of him. He's trying on his skin and issues surrounding his race for the first time lately. He's raised questions about having siblings he doesn't know. Wise One shows shades of darkness I've never seen before, and I don't know where to go with that. Pooh Bear says her stomach hurts all. the. time. She didn't have any issues over the summer, but boy howdy, when school hit, she began hurting like the previous school year. And it's not to get out of anything- it's her absorbing the stress and harshness of school. <br />
<br />
Thankfully, we have good counselors, but lately the amount feels overwhelming. Three recent session in the last week and a half makes for other things going undone. I knew divorce would not be good for my children, and it is not. <br />
<br />
I want more time with my sons and daughter.<br />
<br />
Last week, when I left work to watch Peace's last cross country race, he thanked me three. separate. times. I eat lunch at school with Pooh Bear once a week, and that in itself breaks my heart. We had all our meals together just last year. If I want a conversation with Wise One, I have to ask him to remove his ipod headphones. He's always been introverted, but I worry he's holding in too much. Tater at least needs me to give him rides to and from his plethora of sports and other activities, and he talks more than a girl to me. However, his adoption issues get in his way daily.<br />
<br />
I miss the time I could devote to them, and now I have to tell myself, "God will have to take care of that" with not as much faith with which I'd like to pray. And there is the general reduction of time for remembering my own spirit to boot.<br />
<br />
In so many ways, I'm blessed. The boys are making it solidly through the teen years without hitting the big problems so far. All are strong and decently centered people. May God keep it so.truevynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05998290681038658399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14083176.post-46003899706875427392010-10-23T11:04:00.000-05:002010-10-23T11:04:42.077-05:00I didn't even know I needed to hear them. I didn't know how simple words could be so healing, and I didn't expect them. In fact, I told myself that I couldn't need them, because one can't need what another might not have to offer. But to my surprise, she gave her words away like the balm of Gilead applied to my hidden and grieving soul. <br />
<br />
"I'm so, so sorry." <br />
<br />
I would not allow myself to sink fully into that apology at the moment, because I only wanted part in it if it were true and sincere. And after consideration and prayer, to whatever extent she could offer, the words are true and sincere.<br />
<br />
It's enough for now. Like daily bread. And I'll allow myself to eat something wholesome and good for me.truevynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05998290681038658399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14083176.post-72508200230902984312010-10-17T18:48:00.000-05:002010-10-17T18:48:50.327-05:00Sundry Lessons Learned LatelySqueaky toy + puppy + netflix= unsatisfying movie viewing experience.<br />
<br />
Ipods can come back from the dead after being washed if placed in the freezer covered in dry rice.<br />
<br />
Children are never too old to embarrass you at the store.<br />
<br />
Fireplaces in the chill of fall are miraculous.<br />
<br />
Brave people are rare. <br />
<br />
Sometimes people don't take responsibility for their own actions. <br />
<br />
Sometimes justice isn't.<br />
<br />
A river and a run give me peace.<br />
<br />
Teenagers are the most hilarious inventions ever.<br />
<br />
I wish I'd have watched LOST when it was on television. <br />
<br />
School can be rough on kids.<br />
<br />
Freshmen football is kinda fun to watch, but I'm hoping for varsity games next year.<br />
<br />
Make no bones about it, AP history is a college course even if taken in high school.truevynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05998290681038658399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14083176.post-37658316757346656042010-09-30T20:08:00.000-05:002010-09-30T20:08:37.001-05:00<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNrhumTfilJpBqifU5bgVjPPdB2krExY652U20Ym8eByVHVmUTZ0wFWkI0YsNpZZLG8aYz11Crtz2A2KItKpDrXzMXS4hs0oYyaWTO98d3Rpw3FbNl3Jyy4yJA_3kKmuA1HoQCAQ/s1600/100_1481.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNrhumTfilJpBqifU5bgVjPPdB2krExY652U20Ym8eByVHVmUTZ0wFWkI0YsNpZZLG8aYz11Crtz2A2KItKpDrXzMXS4hs0oYyaWTO98d3Rpw3FbNl3Jyy4yJA_3kKmuA1HoQCAQ/s400/100_1481.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I bought a basil plant in Rugby, TN this spring and brought some inside. I stuck it in a glass jar to use as needed in cooking, and it rooted without me asking it to or anything. It doesn't flower, therefore it's always usable. Who thinks it will remain alive for me all winter in my kitchen?</td></tr>
</tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBB0fu1elKYvLlOs5PisqTDA5EKTdHvY8dxESNUwQR_H-e60751sHi9iKDU8WQiWiM55nplr-WwQ7QTp7E-WtZxAVlFjQo69wRVVu9M6HPJ0-M5gPDDO6ynEazeMOD5X9hyphenhyphenZovhA/s320/100_1487.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="240" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tomorrow is October and I still have zinnias (and tomatoes growing madly) in my yard.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBB0fu1elKYvLlOs5PisqTDA5EKTdHvY8dxESNUwQR_H-e60751sHi9iKDU8WQiWiM55nplr-WwQ7QTp7E-WtZxAVlFjQo69wRVVu9M6HPJ0-M5gPDDO6ynEazeMOD5X9hyphenhyphenZovhA/s1600/100_1487.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3pDkb2SkcbDdQrj0N-7_ShvEXYk3lwq0Rvm1_S3Bd1r7TFj6StqAQ3yRzBTTNMrdvL_aMset9_ptCDvDottvD4TnxfsEq4xBF15WnXm5Gq4DV8L992eoZF1Yuzl5lOQ0J6JMOLw/s1600/100_1493.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="290" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3pDkb2SkcbDdQrj0N-7_ShvEXYk3lwq0Rvm1_S3Bd1r7TFj6StqAQ3yRzBTTNMrdvL_aMset9_ptCDvDottvD4TnxfsEq4xBF15WnXm5Gq4DV8L992eoZF1Yuzl5lOQ0J6JMOLw/s320/100_1493.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ-lOHVVtp6oJIt2menJK27v35TQ7E9YKQDIe18t2d90H1hIwIG-nKfh8ncRZLvvFmUNauJlP18kCtNyfk3MaccEiyn2ovm4E8QVbSCPSr2PX5y8TKOm6rI4IkzsVbtU4tLAPIag/s1600/100_1494.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="264" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ-lOHVVtp6oJIt2menJK27v35TQ7E9YKQDIe18t2d90H1hIwIG-nKfh8ncRZLvvFmUNauJlP18kCtNyfk3MaccEiyn2ovm4E8QVbSCPSr2PX5y8TKOm6rI4IkzsVbtU4tLAPIag/s320/100_1494.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixH4lzA52F0BAxYwayIMmOK9YcST2Da8dr_prN6B-DtFEh9Ku6hHrw0vqJO8bbMvCOFTzUDJOaFZXaSAnQOZuChSPAMVLxEh6IVHWtjQK3HJGSK9A8tdIw7eL93R3sPodTEnGHPw/s320/100_1497.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hagrid, my very cute and precocious puppy. </td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixH4lzA52F0BAxYwayIMmOK9YcST2Da8dr_prN6B-DtFEh9Ku6hHrw0vqJO8bbMvCOFTzUDJOaFZXaSAnQOZuChSPAMVLxEh6IVHWtjQK3HJGSK9A8tdIw7eL93R3sPodTEnGHPw/s1600/100_1497.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div>truevynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05998290681038658399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14083176.post-67700011923630669322010-09-26T20:05:00.000-05:002010-09-26T20:05:58.071-05:00So, what's with the elderly lady who stopped Pooh Bear and I on my way out of a restaurant yesterday to ask about my GRANDDAUGHTER? Really? "Nope, not my granddaughter," I announced looking over my shoulder. <br />
<br />
"A niece?", she called a bit louder.<br />
<br />
"Unh-uh," I stopped.<br />
<br />
"Little friend?" she ventured.<br />
<br />
I faced the inquiring person. "My daughter. She's my daughter." You can stop guessing now. I'm insulted enough. She looks like a mini-me, and besides, do I really look that old? No. <br />
<br />
Her husband chided her while catching my eye, "That was mean. She's obviously not happy you called her a grandma." <br />
<br />
You got that right, old man. I mean, I could be a grandma technically. I'm sure there are plenty my age, right?<br />
<br />
Pooh Bear explained to me as we exited, "When we get home you can dye your roots, Mom." <br />
<br />
So, it was a grooming issue after all. truevynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05998290681038658399noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14083176.post-7924142946739204452010-09-15T21:19:00.002-05:002010-09-26T19:57:58.291-05:00There is something so magical when a perfect stranger meets ones son and after an entire minute of talking declares something I'd already spoken. Last night I took Peace to see Amadeus at the Clarence Brown. A little opera, a lot of terrific acting, amazing dialogue, and a beautiful mix of the Knoxville Symphony Orchestra made up a fabulous evening to share with my son.<br />
<br />
We were seated beside a woman we did not know. She began to discuss texting and high school with my son. She'd read about his school in the paper...it's getting rave reviews....She and Peace had lots to say about how he refuses to abbreviate and must use proper grammar while text messaging. She blurted out, "Do you like to write? Are you a writer?" to which he answered, "Yes." Then she looked straight at him and asked, "Would you think about becoming a journalist?" I know Peace thought I'd secretly met her previously, bought her seat beside us at the play, and paid her to propose this question, because I've been talking to him about this very career for a year now.<br />
<br />
Just last week, we talked to Barishynikov, a family friend, who has a degree in journalism. Bary advised Peace to pursue something else as he sees the world of journalism has fallen mercilessly into the hands of blogger and other shady such characters.<br />
<br />
I find it remarkable that Peace could get such a direct question from a stranger at a play in such a brief conversation. I enjoy his writing. Always have. His depth astonishes me. I admire who he is becoming. I pray he finds his path, and it's straight to the heart of God and impacts humanity in the way he is made.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
And on a completely different note: how is that this happened at the play as well? Another woman let us pass by on the way to our assigned seats, and I bellowed a nice friendly and confident, "Hello, where do I know you from?"<br />
<br />
She replied, "I work at St. Mary's."<br />
<br />
"Nope, that's not it.....ummm.....did I sit by you at the circus in the winter while you took pictures for your grandkids?"<br />
<br />
"Yes. How on earth did you remember that?"<br />
<br />
Long silence.... <br />
<br />
"I have no earthly idea, but nice to see you again. I'm a little dumbfounded."truevynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05998290681038658399noreply@blogger.com0