My latest lesson in contentment

I had been coveting a bigger vehicle. Crazy, I know, especially with the price of gas lately. My husband kept reminding me that we don’t need a bigger vehicle. The four of us fit just fine in my Ford Taurus and when we take a trip, all our stuff fits just fine in the spacious trunk. Still, I thought bigger would be better – especially when we have family visit and we have to take two cars wherever we go, or one of us ends up squished in the back seat with the two kids in the car seats. It would be nice. But he’s right, we don’t need a bigger vehicle, and we especially don’t need a car payment. Still, I found myself searching mini-van listings online, scheming ways to get one.

Then on Sunday night, my trusty Taurus started to stall on us. And then the dreaded red “check engine” light came on. We spent Memorial Day at home. I ventured 1 mile down the road for hot dogs and watermelon in The Narrator’s car, but my car sat in the drive way all day, taunting us with that red light and the unknown of a repair bill. Engine trouble can be such a big unknown – from simple tune up to big bucks repair. We distracted ourselves by doing projects around the house that we already had the supplies for.

I suddenly found myself sheepishly repenting of my covetousness. How could I have been so ungrateful for a car that runs just fine, has incredibly low mileage for being 10 years old, and not to mention was a GIFT from my dear sweet Grandma two years ago when she bought a new car? I guess sometimes I learn contentment by nearly losing the source of my discontentment.

Tuesday morning rolled around and the car stalled on the way to the shop. I tried not to nibble my nails all day while The Narrator waited for the call. And when the verdict did come? Praise God – it only needed a tune up and some flushing out. Minor repair, minor bill. But BIG thankfulness on my part. No more looking at vans. No more wishing for something bigger. And next time I end up squished in the backseat, rather than dreaming of something bigger, I’ll be thankful that there is room enough for me and two car seats.

The day he won husband of the year award

(Also known as the hottest day of my life. Ever.)

Two years ago my Very Social Friend asked me to teach her how to sew. I was delighted to pass along my love of creating with fabric, and we began her lessons with a few pairs of shorts. Then she moved away. Then she moved back and got a sewing machine for her birthday last fall. We try to get together once a month to hone our skills. During one of those gatherings not long ago, she mentioned there was going to be a craft show at the coffee shop she worked at. She asked me if I’d be interested in having a table at the show with her. Since I’m trying all kinds of new things this year, and already had a stack of baby blankets and bibs made, I agreed. While we were at the coffee shop show, a lady came around from the church we attend and invited us to have a table at their craft show Memorial Day weekend. We thought about it for a second, and since we were having such a good time, we signed up.

Little did we know that Saturday would be the hottest, most humid day ever. You would think since we live in Florida we would have expected that for the end of May. But no, that Saturday was BAD. Really BAD. We were setting up our tables at 8:30 a.m. and we were already dripping with sweat, wishing we had worn cooler clothes and that the canopy we had borrowed from her cousin would have worked on the cement.

The Narrator showed up with the kids just about then to see if we needed anything before he took the kids to a birthday party. We asked him to please take a look at the directions for the canopy to see if maybe we had misunderstood them, hoping for a miracle so we wouldn’t end up as poached eggs on the sidewalk. He looked the instructions over and gave us a sad look. “So sorry, but it’s not going to work.”

We put on our smiles, determined to make the best of it. We do know how to have a good time, even if it’s while fighting over a battery operated fan in 95 degree heat with 100% humidity! We sent The Narrator and kids on their way and then slathered on the sunscreen. About thirty minutes later, Very Social Friend says, “Hey, aren’t those your kids?”

I looked up to see Little Miss Sunshine and T-Rex running across the courtyard toward us. Not far behind them was The Narrator – with a case of bottled water in one hand and a quick shade green canopy in the other hand. Very Social Friend and I started to squeal like little girls. In about ten minutes we had shade, glorious shade!! We gave him hugs and kisses (I did the kissing, that is) and then sent him off to the birthday party.

That is the day he won husband of the year award and saved me and Very Social Friend from heat exhaustion. And since we now own a fun, quick set-up canopy, we put it up in the drive way on Memorial Day just so we could have a picnic with the kids under it. Just for fun!

Scribbles

One of the benefits of spring cleaning is finding lost treasures. A few weeks ago, while cleaning out my dresser, I uncovered a tattered blue journal held together by crumbling, clear tape. Faded gold lettering on the front cover says, “The Scribble-in Book.”

I sat down on the floor and forgot about the dresser as I opened the front cover to refresh my memory of the book’s lengthy history. In my Grandmother’s handwriting was simply written “Aunt Ida. Received 9-11-88.” Right below Grandma’s writing, I had written “Given to me by Grandma T, Fall of 1995.”

My Great-Great Aunt Ida, the originator of the journal, was one of the godliest women I have ever known. She never married and never drove a car. She graduated from Moody Bible Institute while D.L Moody was President. She taught Sunday School for as long as she was able and was everyone’s “Aunt Ida.” She spent her years studying the Bible and loving all who came across her path. She was also the family “cake baker/decorator.” It was while staying with my Grandparents to recuperate from a broken hip that Aunt Ida passed The Scribble-in book on to my Grandma. My Grandma faithfully visited Aunt Ida during her final years in a nursing home, helping her with her lunch and praying with her. Aunt Ida passed away at the age of 101 while I was still in elementary school.

I have many memories of my Grandma during my growing up years. A good majority of those memories center around a discussion of the Bible, visiting her Bible Study Fellowship luncheons, and sitting with her and Grandpa every Sunday in the next-to-the-last row of pews in church. When I headed off to college in Fall 1995, Grandma introduced me to The Scribble-in Book and passed the treasure on to me. She always believed I would write. Grandma passed away just over a year ago after suffering from crippling arthritis for years. I’m sure she and Aunt Ida had a great reunion.

Mesmerized, I began to carefully thumb through the yellowing pages. I smiled as my fingers traced the familiar hand writing of these two precious women who loved God so dearly. I could see their personalities shining through and could almost hear their voices read the stories. They each filled pages with poems, short stories, and notes from sermons and books that left an impression on them. As I flipped through the book, I noticed that I had not contributed much yet to this history. The book now sits in a prominent place next to my computer – something my Great-Great Aunt never owned. As I listen to sermons while I sew or clean or come across an article that is especially meaningful, I give the thoughts the permanent honor of a home in The Scribble-in Book.

Someday, maybe my own daughter will thumb through the pages and be impacted by the thoughts of women who lived long before her. Maybe words from the book will shape what she does that day. You never know what your legacy may mean.

My life is like a weaving
Between my Lord and me.
I cannot choose the colors
He worketh steadily.
Sometimes He weaveth sorrow
And I, in foolish pride
Forget He sees the upper
And I the underside.

Not until the loom is silent
And the shuttles cease to fly
Will the Lord unroll the canvas
And tell the reason why.
My life is like a weaving
Between my Lord and me.
I cannot choose the colors
He worketh steadily.

from “My life is like a weaving”
(captured by Aunt Ida in The Scribble-In Book)

Memorial Day Tribute – Civil War

We hear many personal stories from our veterans and their families from current day back to World War II, but I thought this weekend as we honor those who have given their lives for our freedom that I’d share a bit of a rare gem from my family. My Grandpa preserved letters from some of our distant relatives that they wrote home during the Civil War. This is something we most often only read about in history books, yet these letters give quite a personal look at what life was like for those fighting the Civil War. Years ago, my Grandpa took these letters (there was a quite a stack of them) and summarized them for me.

Michael Rex was born in Cumberland County, Pennsylvania on May 1, 1818. Daniel Rex was born in Ohio, but the date is unknown. Michael Rex enlisted in the Civil War on August 12, 1862 in an Ohio Infantry. He enlisted to serve three years or until the finish of the war.

Daniel Rex enlisted June 17, 1862. He was captured at Knoxville, TN and served six months in Libby and Belle Isle as a prisoner of war. He nearly starved to death. When he was released, he was sent to the USA General Hospital in Annapolis, MD on April 9, 1864. He was ordered to soldier’s rest on May 28, 1864.

Twenty-six letters were preserved from Michael, and his sons Daniel, William, and Simon.

In a letter dated October 19, 1863 at Loudon East Tennessee, Michael, Daniel and William were side by side in battle. They were told, “It is not often seen father and son standing side by side in line of battle.” on Sunday, October 25 he writes, “We done a heap of fighting, and we aint done yet. Wednesday the rebels surrounded our Calvary and mounted infintry at Philadelphia, Tennessee six miles from here and they had to cut their way out. We lost 148 men killed wounded and missing, but thank God, Dan and Will came out safe. Last week one night, we all three slept together under a oak tree under one blanket in hearing of the cursed Rebs.” Also from the same letter Michael states, “We have lots of wet and cold weather. We nearly freeze some nights and we have poor grub and little of that but still live in hopes of better times. ” He writes in another letter of how they talk to the rebels on the other side of the river. “We don’t shoot at each other. We talk to them every day. They say if we quit fighting and go home they will quit fighting and go home too.”

In one letter from Simon from Chattanooga on October 10, 1863 he says, “I think the last battle of this war will be fought within six weeks. Near this place we have got thirty thousand men from the eastern army and a good many from Grant’s army to help us. I think we can whip them. We can see the rebels all the time. We lost very many men, about 20,000 killed and wounded.”

A letter from Michael on September 8, 1863 from camp Loudon, TN says, “We have captured over 6,000 bushels of wheat from the rebels and 80 sacks of salt, and over 100 army tents and a rebel steam mill. They started to grind this morning for our own use. I just know there was some of the 45th Reg. taken prisoner, but I don’t know who.”

August 23, 1863 in Kentucky, while camped in an orchard, Michael writes, “We die on the way. I don’t believe that ever I will again see home, but God only knows. We have to carry our blankets and rations for one day – one canteen full of water and 40 rounds of cartrages (bullets). We will soon be in Tennessee and then in Georgia. So may God bless us all is the prayer of your unworthy husband and father, Michael Rex.”

I wanted to tell you how hard army life was in the Civil War. They hardly had enough to eat and marched everywhere they went. These were religious men and prayed often. They were common men. Michael was a blacksmith and farmer and Daniel was a farmer. Yet these common people fought for the unity of our nation.

Memorial Day Tribute #2

My grandfather served in both World War II and the Korean War, as did many of his generation. Thankfully, he survived both wars, and became my Dad’s Dad and my Grandpa. Grandpa turned down a purple heart for a wound he received on his hand during combat. He turned it down because he felt there were so many others who had suffered much more than he, and he did not believe his wound was worthy of a purple heart.

When I wrote to my grandparents in college asking them for family stories, he shared a story about surviving a typhoon while on a navy ship near Okinawa. I guess this one stuck with me because years after this story took place, I was born on Okinawa while my Dad was in the army.

Those who serve our country endure so many perils day in and day out, and I am forever grateful for them and the freedom they protect.

My Grandpa died eleven years ago from heart disease, and I still miss him terribly. I get my love of history and stories from him. Here is my Grandpa’s short story in his own words.

In 1945, I was at the island of Okinawa. A typhoon was coming and we were ordered out to sea to ride the storm out. At that time, I was on a small ship, LCSL-17. It was only about 25 or 30 feet wide and no more than 172-200 feet long. We had a flat bottom and in a storm, it shook you to pieces. The waves were thirty-five feet high. We could not cook or do any work. I found a five gallon can of mixed nuts and lived on that for about three days. My job was to steer the ship, and we had to be roped or tied to a metal round bar behind us so we could have our hands free to steer. There were two or three larger ships lost in that storm.

I was young, and I don’t remember being scared – but I should have been. It was en experience I would not want to do again. But I am glad that I went through it.

Memorial Day Tribute

Every Memorial Day weekend, I pull out this story that my Grandma wrote to me in a letter while I was in college. I was taking a story telling class and had written my grandparents asking them to send me family stories. This one is a gem, and serves as a reminder that Memorial Day is more than barbecues, a day off work and the start of summer. May you remember all those, and their families, who have given their lives so that we may live free, and pray for those who serve us today across the globe.

The date was December 7, 1941. My sister and I were home alone when the news came over the radio (before the days of t.v.) that Pearl Harbor had been attacked by Japan. That meant we were at war.

I was a freshman in high school at the time, and my sister Betty was four years older. I had no idea at the time what impact that news broadcast would have on our family, consisting of Mom, Dad, three boys, and us two girls, living a somewhat quiet life on an Ohio farm.

Dick, my middle brother, joined the army the following summer. We all went to visit him during basic training at Camp Perry. The following summer of 1943, my youngetst brother, Leonard joined the Navy after graduating from high school.

By now, most young men were in service unless he was declared 4-F, meaning he couldn’t pass the physcial. Others got a degerment for a critical war job. My oldest brother Bob fell in this category. When his deferments ran out, he was drafted and left for serivce on Christmas Eve 1943. We all went to the station to wave him goodbye. The weather was nasty, snowy and slippery. Only a call from Uncle Sam would bring a person out on that Christmas Eve.

Bob went through boot camp then a shake down cruise with the ship he was assigned to, the Destroyer Meredith. He came home on leave before leaving for whatever assignment lay ahead. By now, it was spring of 1944, and I was getting ready to graudate from high school. Bob bought me a black Parker fountain pen for my graudation gift. As he walked toward the front door, he said his last goodbye, cried, and said he wouldn’t be coming back. At that moment it didn’t leave much impact on me because I knew he wasn’t as eager to go off to service as my other brothers.

Three weeks later, in the middle of the night, there was a knock at the door. My Dad asked who was there. The reply was, “It’s Western Union with a telegram from the War Department.” Mom and Dad went downstairs immediately. I remember lying in bed, not wanting to know which one of my brothers the telegram brought news of. When I did go downstairs, I learned the news was about Bob. His first trip out took him directly to the Normandy invasion in the English Channel on June 6, 1944. His destroyer was hit on the morning of June 8, and he was killed in action.

My thoughts went back to the last time I had seen him, only a few weeks earlier and the statement he made as he said goodbye.

I still have and cherish my fountain pen.

A day to remember

It was a dreary, rainy day, and the gray skies matched our moods. So much for the sunshine state. We had all been quite blue since sending Nana and Papa back north. Living 1200 miles from family just gets harder and harder as the kids get older. Eighteen-month-old T-Rex wandered around the house for days looking for Papa, and it was all I could do not to cry. I called my Mom on the phone and T-Rex was yelling, “GRANDMA J GRANDMA J!!!!” It’s as if he was just desperate – give me a GRANDPARENT PLEASE!!!!

So that particular gray morning, we had some shoe shopping to do, and I decided to splurge and take the kids out to lunch for fun. Prior to this, I have only ever eaten out with the kids by myself once – when The Narrator was out of town on business.

I asked Little Miss where she wanted to go and was quite surprised she didn’t give an immediate “Chick-fil-a!!” Instead she thought about it, and thought about it, and then asked me where I would like to go! “Do you still want to go to the grapes restaurant?” I asked her.

I could barely believe the words coming out of my mouth. The grapes restaurant is Olive Garden. The week prior, while Nana and Papa were here, we had driven by there and she saw the grapes on the sign and asked to eat at the “Grapes Restaurant,” but we were headed elsewhere.

A sit-down restaurant? By myself? With two toddlers? Am I crazy? I must be. Crazy for unlimited breadsticks, soup and salad for lunch that is! I couldn’t even remember the last time I had eaten at Olive Garden, but it seemed like it had been a decently priced lunch place. So I wandered into Olive Garden with a kid on each hand a gave the hostess a goofy smile and said, “It’s just the three of us!”

We walked past all the business people having lunch meetings and families who met grandparents for lunch. Everyone smiled at us as we walked to our table. Of course, Little Miss was waving at everyone as we walked by, and T-Rex had a huge grin on his face. It was as if they both knew this was a special day – we get to have a grown up lunch with Mama!

I got both kids situated in booster seats, and they both promptly informed me that they wanted mac ‘n cheese, naturally! Oh, and Little Miss wanted grapes too. I had a hard time explaining why there were grapes on the sign, but not in the menu. She was ok with it, thankfully.

The food arrived rather quickly, and oh how I had forgotten about those soft, warm, garlic breadsticks! I sat there in complete wonder as I watched my two kids behave so well and feed themselves with big-people spoons. T-Rex polished off his whole bowl and didn’t even make a mess. I kept pinching myself. We had a LOVELY lunch together. In fact, T-Rex randomly throughout the meal would raise both little arms above his head and say, “YAY!!!” Not to be outdone, Little Miss would copy cat raising her arms and saying, “YAY!!” After about the third time of the arm-raising praise, I decided to join in and raised my arms over my head and said, “YAY! for a fun lunch!!” Then Little Miss said, “Yay I got tap shoes!!” And T-Rex said, “YAY YAY!” People around us were smiling, and another mom who had met her husband and kids for lunch smiled and made eye contact. I looked at her and said, “Lunch is really good!” She laughed.

They grow up too fast. I’m trying to savor the moments.

Tap shoes

I knew there would eventually come a point in time where Little Miss Sunshine would be in a social setting and feel less-than. And I’ve been dreading that moment. My Mama heart wants to protect and maintain innocence for as long as possible. I don’t ever want my kids to feel less-than the greatness that they are, the greatness that God has created them to be. My heart aches for them to understand how incredibly they are loved, how talented they are, how beautiful they are, how engaging their personalities are, how marvelous and wonderful they are. But I know that they will face the same battles that I do – the great battle of all time that seeks to inhibit what we are meant to be.

I wasn’t prepared for it to start at age 3. Or over a pair of shoes.

I started Little Miss in a dance class at the Y. She LOVES music and LOVES to dance. It’s in her. From as soon as she could move, she felt the rhythm of everything. She’d even rock back and forth in time with the dishwasher. She’d hear background music and catch the beat when I didn’t even realize there was music playing. So I thought I’d give dance at the Y a try. It’s a good price and since it’s month-to-month, we can try it for however long she likes and not have to get all crazy about it.

I was so impressed with the teacher the first week. It’s obvious that she has a gift for dance, a gift for teaching and that she loves the kids. As she explained to me her principles, I immediately saw that this would be a good experience for Little Miss on levels much greater than dance – following instructions, learning to listen, and practicing discipline. The arts encourage so many great qualities in children. The teacher told us what she needed to bring to class and that included a pair of hard soled shoes for tap. “You don’t need to buy her tap shoes, she just needs a pair of hard soled shoes, like church shoes. We’re just learning basics and practicing putting on shoes by themselves.”

The second week Little Miss came out of class and I could tell she was holding something in. She maintained her composure until we reached the front door and then let it loose. I tried not to panic as I asked her questions trying to figure out why she was so sad. She kept telling me that all the other girls had noisy shoes and that it was loud and hurt her ears. I could understand that, but something still didn’t quite seem right and I couldn’t console her. My heart started to break.

When The Narrator got home, I asked for his help, and he was finally able to determine that the heart of the issue was that the other girls had tap shoes and she didn’t. It wasn’t that the noise hurt her ears, but that the noise they made with their shoes and she couldn’t make with hers hurt her heart. I cried. I wasn’t ready for this.

We hugged her and consoled her and encouraged her. I began to wrestle with what to do. This was just supposed to be something fun – make new friends, learn a new skill, just three-year-old fun! And this is when I really, really felt like a parent. As I pondered her personality and her gifts and her sensitivities, it became clear to me that we should look for tap shoes. This wasn’t the time to try to teach a lesson, but rather a time to love her and encourage something that she enjoys.

As I think about how badly I want her to be free to be herself and explore her talents and gifts as she grows, it speaks to me . I think about all the insecurities I have about my own talents and why I don’t pursue them and brush off compliments. I wonder if God must look at me and with a breaking heart whisper, “Don’t you see the greatness I put inside you? I love you! Be FREE! Pursue what you love! Please don’t compare yourself to everyone else!!”

Ah, the tests of parenthood and how much it shows me about my own self.

I won!!

Gasp!! Can you hear me shrieking?? I got an email first thing this morning from Scribbit saying that my story Competition in the Closet won this months’ write away contest. Thank you so much to the judge at Ice Cream Diaries who chose my post as the winner, to Scribbit for hosting the monthly contest, and to Payless ShoeSource for the $50 gift certificate and a pair of their new friendship shoes!!

I’d like to extend a warm welcome to those visiting from Scribbit’s link. I am blogging anonymously as Story Girl from hot, sticky Florida. I’m a stay-at-home mom to a three-year-old girl (Little Miss Sunshine) and a year and a half old boy (T-Rex) and have been married to The Narrator for eleven years. We live 1200 miles from the rest of our family, having moved to Florida from the North five years ago. I’m a seamstress and scrapbooker, God-follower, and story lover. I have a brief intro under My Story. To get a feel for who I am, you can also check out these stories:

The Littlelest Client
Thanks for the New Tires
Credit Card Girl
Things that Go Bump in the NIght part 1 and part 2
The Lonely Fish

And now, seriously, I am off to Payless to see if they have any tap shoes, which is another story forthcoming!

My handsome little prince

*I seem to be having trouble posting pictures, but stay tuned. If I can get The Narrator’s help, I have an adorable pic for this post!!!

The gals that play the part of Disney princesses at Disney World are good. I mean they are gooood.

Thanks to Nana’s younger brother who works at Disney, we got to spend a day at the Magic Kingdom with Nana and Papa. Naturally, the first thing Little Miss Sunshine wanted to do was go see Cinderella. So, after we did a couple other things, we wandered our way into a part of the park that Nana & Papa did not know existed. Yes, it’s where you hang out with little princesses who MUST meet Cinderella – Mickey’s Toon Town. We stood in the, thankfully, air conditioned line with dozens of families with dancing princesses twirling their way into meet Cinderella, Belle, and Aurora.

My father-in-law kept asking me, “Which one is the yellow one?”
“Belle.”
Blank stare.
“Beauty and the Beast.”
“OH, ok. Which one is the pink one?”
“Sleeping Beauty, who actually has a name – Aurora.”

I think by the time we left the park he was up-to-date on his Disney Princesses. Very important information for Grandpas!

At long last, it was our turn and Little Miss charmed her way through Cinderella, got her picture taken and marched on to humor Belle. Belle told Ilana she must read a lot since she knew how to spell her name. “I do read a lot of stories” Little Miss told her. “What do you read stories about?” asked Belle. “About Belle,” replied LIttle Miss rather emphatically and quickly. “Oh, well what happens in the story about me?” asked Belle. “We turn the pages” replied Little Miss. Everyone in the room started cracking up.

But the truly magical moment in the Princess Room happened with my Little Prince – T-Rex. He had been hanging out with Papa with a look on his little 18-month-old face that said, “This is girl stuff, and I’m here because my sister wants to do this, and I am very uninterested in these yucky girls. I’m sticking with Papa. He’s a boy.”

As Little Miss moved onto Belle, Cinderella started talking to T-Rex. He backed away and kind of peeked at her from behind Nana. She could have seen his disinterest and let him go, moving on to the next twirling little girl. And as I watched this unfold, I was really quite surprised that she kept paying attention to him. I don’t know how she did it, but she must have waved her magic wand and sprinkled him with princess dust, because, somehow, she talked him over to her and next thing I knew, he was staring wide-eyed into Cinderella’s eyes as she told him what a handsome little prince he was. The photographer snapped away, and CInderella let him go, urging him towards Belle, who eagerly reached for him. She too, wrapped her arms around him and cooed at him about how handsome he was and what a good little prince he was.

T-rex was ENAMORED. Oh yes siree, by this time, he was star struck. The look on his face had totally turned from disgust to delight. Pretty girls were cooing over him and telling him how handsome he was. His chest was even sticking out a little bit. He reluctantly left Belle, and wandered over to Aurora. By this time, all the photographers had their eyes on T-Rex and I think the entire room had paused to watch this starry-eyed little guy make the Princess rounds. Aurora was quite a character and she was ready for him. I think she must have put on a fresh coat of lipstick. She planted a kiss on his cheek that left the brightest shade of pink lips. By this time, T-Rex was completely googly-eyed. I practically had to drag him from the room so we could let the rest of the little girls in line get their turn. As the door closed behind us, T-Rex did a big u-turn and reached for the handle and almost re-entered the room to claim his princesses before I caught him and had to carry him down the hallway with his little arms reaching out for the girls behind him.

As we were leaving Disney that evening, I asked Little Miss who her favorite person was she met that day. “Cinderella.” Of course. Then I asked her who she thought T-Rex’s favorite was. I thought maybe she’d answer Pooh, but she was quick to reply, “Belle.”

Ah, my little prince. What boy doesn’t love the attention of a pretty princess??