Lil Slice of Heaven

One of the things on my bucket list is to go to a day spa and enjoy a whole day of soaking in mud, being wrapped in sea weed, scrubbed with sea salt and having every kink massaged away. Even now, I can hear the soft music and the soothing sounds of water in the background. The air is moist and warm like a blanket that wraps around you filling the air with the scent of lavender, honey and tea tree. In my dream, everyone moves with fluid motion, and never speaks above a whisper. Doesn’t that sound like a little slice of heaven to you? In fact, now that I think about it, God, forget a mansion on a hillside, just make mine a day spa and we’ll call it good.  A couple of weeks ago, on a 

particularly difficult day, I thought to myself that I would love to run away from reality to a fantasy spa. A whole day with no worries, commitments, expectations, or deadlines, just 8 hours of indulgent pampering which includes chocolate with no calories. I didn’t tell anyone about my dream, but I came pretty close to posting it on Facebook. Then I thought to myself…. “Oh suck it up! Everyone goes through tough days.”  So I didn’t post it and didn’t even mention it to anyone; I just put on my big girl panties and soldiered on. That doesn’t mean I’ve taken it off my bucket list, it just means I checked the prices and unless I win the lottery, it ain’t gonna happen anytime soon. (Insert pathetically pouty face here). Then at lunch I got a card in the mail from a friend of mine. She must have read my bucket list cause in the card was a gift certificate for a ½ hour massage!! How sweet! In that moment I knew that my heavenly Father hadn’t heard my prayers, because my prayers never includes a massage or a day spa, but instead he saw the desire of my heart and used my earthly friend to make that desire come true. Just when I think he’s lost my GPS signal and I’m drowning in a sea of despair, he reaches down through a random act of kindness, to assure me I’m still on his radar. Knowing that is more than a little slice of heaven.

Celebrate Every Victory, Cherish Every Smile

It's 9 p.m. on a Sunday night. This week has been a mix of the hustle and bustle of the holidays, and the sharp knife of reality. Christmas fell on a Wednesday this year, so the work week seemed weird. Mom had surgery on Friday so the weekend has been a big blur. I've spent the weekend at Mom's bedside and caught some zz's here and there.  I feel like a baby who has her days and nights mixed up, barely distinguishing one day from next. I walked in this evening after having gone home to freshen up, and found her lying in bed watching football. I looked at the TV then looked at her and we both began to laugh. I know my Mom has reached a new level of boredom when she voluntarily watches football. Tonight has been one of her better nights, although she reported to me she thought someone had stolen her pillow while she was in the bathroom.  You just can't turn your back on anyone these days. After having her up, I asked if she wanted to go for a walk. I told her we could cruise the halls looking for trouble if she was up for some mischief. She grinned from ear to ear at the idea of breaking some rules.The whole idea took me back to my teenage years, when we would the hit the streets of Tulsa looking for some all night shopping. We made it all of two feet from her hospital room when her feet refused to cooperate with her brain. Still, we celebrated the accomplishment of the evening. I turned out the lights hoping for a peaceful night and taking comfort that we enjoyed a few laughs. Celebrate every victory, cherish every smile.

The Flood

It's been a long day. After months of scopes, CAT scans and biopsies, my Mom endured another biopsy. To the doctors credit, they intimated from the beginning that there would not be a positive outcome to whatever was growing inside her. I tend to be a "just give me the facts" kind of gal. I'm not  pessimist, just more of a realist. I'd much rather face my giant head on, than to hide behind boulders of hope that may come crashing down. That being said, there are always opportunities to turn travesty into a a beautiful tapestry of life's little tangles and snarls. One side of life can be a knotted mess but turn the canvass over and you find a beautiful depiction of the intricacy of life God has turned the knots and snarls into. Each tapestry unique to the person it depicts and the grace found in his hands. The doctor warned me tonight would nit be a pleasant evening. The pain and confusion had her in literal knots.  I knew we needed a supernatural intervention. Many years ago, I faced a life wrenching crisis and could feel hopes and dreams of my fairytale life being ripped from my hands in a shocking turn of events. MOM and Dad had just moved to Duncan and were living with us until they found a house. I came home from work one day with the heavy burden of imperfection hanging over me like a cloud.  I was angry with God, and so hurt that I was being forced through a trial that was not of my own making. Mom sat me on the couch and flipped open her Bible and read me, "When the enemy shall come in, the Spirit of the against him."Isaiah 59:18-20.  Then she suggested to me to move the comma over so the scripture read..."When the enemy shall come in, like a flood the Spirit of the Lord shall lift up a standard against him." I have never read that verse any other way since. The enemy may come in, but never doubt that the Spirit of God can come in like a mighty flood, raising a standard against him, wiping him from the face of the problems you that threaten the security and peace of you,God's precious one. Flood us with your precious peace Lord Jesus. If she weathers this storm and comes out healed, we win. If she receives your ultimate healing and leaves this earthly walk, we will praise you still. We're looking at a win win situation and it's all in the masters hands.

My Non-Traditional Christmas Tradition :-)

The holidays caught me in a bit of a panic this year. The stress of

all those years, intentionally creating family traditions, only to have the kids grow up, leave home and dare to have a life outside the traditions I created for them.... Well, it's an adjustment. Now, it’s a rare opportunity to have everyone home at the same time for the same holiday. When someone asked me what I was doing for the holidays, I did one of two things. I gave them a blank stare and shrugged my shoulders or I began to cry. I can’t help it, that’s just the way I roll. It’s not that I’m not okay with change; I’m just not sure where I fit into the change and the best way to make the change a happy place for everyone. This year was particularly difficult due to my Mom’s illness in addition to my brother’s injury. Finally, with the help of the kids, we came up with a plan which would include everyone. Christmas Eve day was spent with my parents. I cooked the traditional holiday meal and took it to their house. We had a great time reminiscing about old times. My Dad got out the old photo albums and we took a stroll down memory lane. Gosh, it's been a long time since I've traveled that far. By the end of the afternoon, my Mom was worn out, so we gathered our mess and headed to OKC to spend the night. We went to my Son’s apartment (I call it his hippie pad) and played games with Dad-in-law(he's my Daughter-in-laws Dad0, who was in the states form Afghanistan a few months before heading to Nigeria where he will be assigned for the next few years. It was nice to have a new addition to the family with stories we haven't heard and adventures that rival my Daughter's military travel. We had the opportunity to meet some of the families that live in the building with my Son. My daughter was mortified after she accidentally outed Santa Clause to a room full of small children, breaking the cardinal rule at our house to never, ever admit Santa isn’t real. As soon as the words were out of her mouth, her face filled with horror. Everyone, including my daughter-in-law assured her the Santa myth was not one that was revered or even acknowledged in the Refuge where the minimalist lifestyle reigns supreme, but still she felt horrible, probably because admitting it, makes it just that much more real in her own eyes. When we got back to the apartment, she told her brother what she had done and he just laughed; then he shattered the dreams her and I had about the Christmas fun we would have when his wee ones came along (if ever they do)…. “You’re not going to let your kids believe in Santa Clause?!” she shouted….. “No, I think will choose NOT to lie to our children” He said with a smirk. Of all three of the kids, he celebrated the myth of Santa Clause with the most gusto unless it included sitting on Santa's lap.  He spied and tried to hide to find the jolly old man in the act of bringing Christmas joy to our house every year and he darn near caught the old Coot a time or two. I still miss the sound of his little feet running downstairs in the wee hours of the morning to see what Santa had brought. Christmas day we woke and my daughter began putting together the Christmas meal and I was happy to sit back and let her. After lunch we

slouched around like 6 Java the Huts on Star Wars.  My daughter and I were tickled pink to find we had a gift from our Dad-in-law. He brought us each exotic silk scarves from his travels to India…. Man, that guy gets around! We left OKC and dropped by my brother’s on the way home. A couple of months ago, he shattered his leg in 20 pieces. That’s my brother…. Go big or go home, so home he has been since the accident. When we got in the car to come home, I told my husband that I had used my allotted words for the next several months. I conversed more in the last two days than I did collectively in the last two years. We got home totally worn out, but with the peaceful feeling I had covered all the bases, and although it wasn’t a typical traditional Christmas, it was probably one of the best Christmas’ ever.

Poinsettia Napalm

Mother of all Poinsettias

The other morning I looked out my window to see a delivery truck delivering a poinsettia the size of a truck…. Literally! I thought to myself…. “I hope that is going to the desk of the one who gifts us with poinsettias every year.” A giant poinsettia for him to tend to would be a very fitting way to end the Christmas season. As it turns out, it wasn’t going to the great giver, but rather the other napalm thumb of the office. I walked into her 

Still in ICU

office and found her starring at the ginormous explosion of red sitting on her table. I couldn’t help it, I started laughing and asked who had done that to her. She told me (in disbelief) that they were from her husband for their anniversary (we share the same anniversary date). That just made me laugh harder. She said…. "I guess he hasn't heard a word I've said about poinsettias!" It's just like a typical man to give you a gift that is known to cause stress and anxiety?  Later, when I thanked my husband for the purple roses he sent, I told him about her

Victim of Napalm

poinsettia delivery. He laughed and said that as he was picking out the roses, the girl asked if he would like the arrangement made with some poinsettia blooms mixed in. He told her…. “Oh no, I wouldn’t want to do that.” Maybe her husband wanted her to have more poinsettia experience in order to face the challenges of Christmas' to come.

Perfect as always

The Sound Track to Our Life

Today my husband and I celebrate 32 years of being together. Just the sound of it makes me feel old.... If you've ever seen the movie Sand Lot, you'll remember the scene where the little kid says.... "Forrr Evorrr" love the movie, love the scene. I've tried the trick of saying I married when I was 7, but no one is buying it. In the day of disposable cell phones, drive through confessionals and streaming online movies, 32 years of marriage is the mother load of all accomplishments. Insert the part where I drone on and on about how perfect our marriage is, and how wonderfully compatible we are, but after 32 years there is no reason for me to be disingenuous. Yes, we do have a wonderfully marriage, and yes I have been wonderfully blessed with a gentle prince of a guy who is my soul mate forever, but in spite of that, no marriage is perfect and people who pretend they have a perfect marriage are disingenuous.  I suggest you stay far, far away from them. Why do I say that? I believe in reality. Marriage is never perfect because it includes not one, but two imperfect people. In spite of the personal imperfections, it is possible for two imperfect people to be the harmony to each others melody which makes for a wonderful way to spend your life. Sometimes marriage hits a wrong chord, sometimes it's a tad off pitch and it's always a work in progress. That being said, it has been worth the 32 year investment we've made and I love the soundtrack of our life together. Forever and always, so happy you're mine.

Excuse Me but Your Poinsettia's Been Hacked

Beautiful as always

My office door opened the other day and as my co-worker walked through, she immediately began sizing up my Poinsettia.  "Hey, don't be giving my poinsettias the stink eye." I warned, then we both laughed. Yesterday, not even a week since I had been given possession of the dang thing, I noticed it was looking a little sad. Dang it! I had gone so far to come into the office over the weekend and moved it away from the window afraid the cold would be too much. As we ended, break I noticed it was downright sick looking. I hadn't even had it a week for heaven's sake! I picked it up and carried it back to my co-workers office with whom I am in the running for the least green thumb. The other girls in the office were hot on my heels. I walked in holding my sad little plant and asked where hers was.  With a sly grin she refused to offer its location swore she had not done anything that was against the rules. I knew it! I just

Looking for pity perhaps

knew it, she had hidden it until she found a suitable replacement!  She assured us that wasn't the case and then mentioned it was in a better place. Had it already passed on to the great beyond? No, it was in ICU being cared for by another co-worker who is more poinsettias friendly and who reported it was already perking up. So now I guess we're just adopting our pitiful plants out to be maintained by someone else until all but one spot on the wall of shame has been filled? Foul, I'm calling foul.  Meanwhile another co-worker was putting out feelers for someone to give her plant some TCL while she took a long weekend off. I'm sorry sister but this is every gal for herself and by saying that I'm actually doing her a favor. Trust me, she does not want me babysitting her plant! It's amazing my three children made

No pity or mercy, you've been hacked

it to adulthood under my care. She placed her surprisingly healthy plant on a file cabinet in the hall with a pity note laying a foundation of failure should she come back to work to nothing but a tiny stalk with shriveled leaves scattered all around. Photographic evidence shows her note was hacked shortly after she left for her weekend. Hmmm. Friday we had the company Christmas party during lunch since the actual event got iced out. We were sitting shoulder to shoulder enjoying the opportunity to visit with some we don't come in contact with every day. My boss (the great giver) asked a co-worker sitting across from us if she had been in our department lately. Initially she looked puzzled, because she rarely has a need to come to our department, but I knew EXACTLY where this conversation was going.... "Oh don't you even get started on that I snapped!" She went from looking puzzled to sheer shock. She looked at me like my just split into, revealing the Jackie on the other side.

Needs something besides ICU

He shrugged his shoulders and tried to act benign then muttered something about if she had seen the lovely poinsettias. By this time, several people were tuned into the exchange as I explained the horror we face each Christmas. He shrugged his shoulders again and tried to defend himself by saying he thought it was a nice gesture... "It's not nice! It's a sadistic ritual that you take a lot of delight in." When I looked across the table at the shocked faces staring back at me, I decided to drop it because obviously there are some who just don't get "our" departments sense of humor. So here are the standings so far. Girl #1's poinsettia looks like it just stepped off a poinsettia runway. Girl #2 poinsettia looks much the same in

Could be worse, could look like the one  in ICU

spite of taking a long weekend. Girl #4 poinsettia actually looks worse than mine in spite of being in ICU and my poinsettia looks sad and droopy. I'm not sure the last two are going to make it to Christmas.