Wednesday, December 5, 2012

On The Other Side

I've struggled and thought about sitting down and writing this for a while now, but it's one of those things that every time you try to, you get too emotional or you find excuses not to.  This morning my cousin posted a song on Facebook that I hadn't heard in a while.  One of those songs that wake you up and make you "feel".  It's called "On The Other Side".
I was driving back from one of Landon's baseball games at Buffalo in Rutledge.  It was somewhere between 8 and 9 pm.  I was riding alone.  Landon had went back with his dad and Rylan wanted to ride with Royal.  I'm rarely alone, but on this occasion I was excited because it was pouring the rain.  Most people would hate driving Joppa Mountain when it's coming a monsoon, but I've always found my happiness, peace, and comfort in a good rain or storm.  I was listening to KLove and started losing signal right as I pulled out of the ball field onto Owl Hole Gap. The next station down on my programmed list is B97.5 and I quickly heard Delilah's voice. I decided to listen in but soon realized she was at the end of a tale.  The song she played following her story took me by surprise.
My story actually starts before the drive across Joppa Mountain.  "I Can Only Imagine" by MercyMe is and has been a well known song for a long time.  The first time I heard it was when I was in my early 20's on my way back from an all night party.  It was about 7am and I was driving back home.  This song came on and I cried my eyes out. Lord knows how much I have sinned in my past but I knew what a sinner I was at that very moment.  For weeks and months when I heard the song I would immediately change it so I wouldn't have to face the guilt. In spite of me finding forgiveness, still years later when I heard the song I remembered how great our God is yet I remembered what a sinner I was.
On April 24th, 2012 I was riding with Royal on my way down to the hospital to see my mammaw after she woke up from surgery.  We were running behind because of getting Landon off to school and leaving Rylan with a sitter.  I had called mammaw the night before and told her I loved her and that I'd be right there waiting when she woke up.  As Royal and I had turned off Tater Valley Rd on Hwy 61 the song, "I Can Only Imagine" came on.  I immediately got the sickening feeling in my stomach but it wasn't from the sins of my past, it was something else.  Something sweet.  Something peaceful.  But a sweet and peaceful feeling that made me nervous.  10 minutes later we're in the Hardee's drive thru.  My phone rings and Royal pulled up to the intercom.  "Can I take your order" said the lady in the drivethru.  "Let me speak to Roy" said my mom on the phone.  I handed it to Rory.  I heard him utter a few muffled "Ok"s and he hung up.  I looked at him and he said, "Your mom was making sure we're on our way because she said your Dad needs you."  I told him let's skip breakfast and head on.  But before we could pull out onto the highway thousands of pictures of me and my mammaw flew through my head and stopped at the words "I Can Only Imagine". I cried out loud as though I was an actress in a movie.  "She's gone isn't she?!!!!! Tell me the truth Rory, she's gone!!!  I know it!!"  He could barely nod his head and tears started falling from his eyes as well. "I knew it" I cried. "I knew it when I heard the song, she was trying to tell me."  I was wailing and I'm not even sure Rory could understand what I was even saying, but I rocked back and forth in my seat and cried uncontrollably all the way down there.
For days I was somewhat angry with God.  I selfishly prayed asking him the typical "Why".  Why would he take the last "loving and normal" thing I had left in my life.  I was angry because he hadn't given me a sign, but he assured me he had.  My mammaw had cooked a family dinner just 2 days prior to her surgery.  We all bragged on how it was the best we had had in years, and it was.  She had also called me weeks before and told me about her Last Will and Testament.  I fussed at her telling her to stop talking like that.  We wouldn't be pulling that thing out for years to come.  In addition to those, Rev. Denver Davidson stopped by to see my mammaw that previous Sunday I believe.  Me and the boys were there along with Mom and Dad.  I watched him pull in then saw Rylan run up to him.  Rylan tends to be shy at first around adults, especially those he's never met.  Instead, he ran up to Denver and reached his little arms up for him to pick him up, and he did.  He carried him for a while, Rylan just smiling as if he'd known him since birth, then Rylan quickly decided to chase the chickens for a while instead.  All these little things were signs.  I see that now.  I couldn't then.
So I'm driving in the pouring rain and Delilah says, "This one goes out to all those with heavy hearts.  May God touch you."  And just like that, there it was, "I Can Only Imagine".  Since mammaws death, I've heard it nearly a dozen times, and I can't help but cry and thing back on days with my grandmother.  I started crying. Then crying heavier and more, almost in harmony with the rain on my windows.  I couldn't take it anymore.  I cried aloud, "Why won't you talk to me mammaw?  I can sense you're hear, but I want to feel your little hand in mine!  I want you to talk to me, not just comfort me mammaw.  Please.... mammaw I feel so alone sometimes.  Mom and dad aren't the same.  Daddy doesn't believe me when I say you're with me sometimes when I pray.  He won't accept you're gone.  He doesn't understand he can talk to you if he wants to.  Please, mammaw...just touch me, touch my heart."  I hadn't much more got out those last words and the song went off.  Normally, there's commercials or another story, but it immediately went straight to another song.  A song my mammaw was singing straight to me.  There's not a doubt in my mind, not a SINGLE doubt that my mammaw knew how to talk to me.  Through music.  Every word in that song, EVERY SINGLE WORD mammaw was speaking to me.  I honest to God shouted thanking her and thanking God for hearing me.  I needed that.  I needed to be 100% assured that she could hear me and could talk to me if I needed her. She did just that.
I've needed her guidance a couple of times since then, but I've never asked her to speak to me again.  I don't think I need her to.  She'll help me, with God's permission, when I need it. I assure you this, even if you don't understand what's on the other side, it's ok. None of us do.  But they can hear us.  They can hear us when they need to.  And I can't wait to see it all for myself one day.  Here's to you mammaw.  Thank's for singing this to me.  From this day on, now and forever more....You'll Be In My Heart..

Wednesday, November 7, 2012

This goes out to the Sinners...

Hey Christian people, you might wanna look up the definition of Christian and if you still want to label yourself as one, then shut up about this election nonsense and stop throwing stones at glass houses folks.  Stop complaining, stop gloating and being prideful, stop hating and fueling the fire.  And my biggest thing, as usual, is stop being ignorant people.  
You know why you don't see me posting about how gays and lesbians are just sick and are morally wrong? First of all, standing for something you believe in is one thing, but being hypocritical and disrespectful is another. God's greatest commandment is "LOVE ONE ANOTHER" so stop hating. I've been married twice and in the Bible that too is a sin, so who am I to tell YOU that the union between a man and woman is the only thing that's Holy. I failed in God's eyes at that so I WILL NOT judge you on that. I know what you're thinking, "But that's what the Bible says!!!" Yes, yes it does.  It also says in Proverbs 15:2 "The tongue of the wise adorns knowledge, but the mouth of the fool gushes folly."  I also had sex before marriage, so before the teenagers and tweens and re-married adults start pulling out things from the Bible, you might want to look at your own life first. If you are/have been spreading your legs and other lips before marriage and/or have been married more than once or who live in a failed marriage but hiding behind closed doors, then you probably don't want to spread the lips on your face to voice your opinion on anything in the Bible. You dig? 
Here's why,"Therefore you are inexcusable, O man, whoever you are who judge, for in whatever you judge another you condemn yourself; for you who judge practice the same things. But we know that the judgment of God is according to truth against those who practice such things. And do you think this, O man, you who judge those practicing such things, and doing the same, that you will escape judgment of God? Or do you despise the riches of His goodness, forbearance, and longsuffering, not knowing that the goodness of God leads you to repentance?" Romans 2:1-4. 
You know why I don't make racial comments? You know why I don't argue back with people when they say it's inproper to wear pants to church? You know why I don't criticize those who MAKE THESE COMMENTS on Facebook and in conversations even if I agree and want to make my point? Because I'm a sinner people. Because I've been married twice, I had sex before marriage, I have marked (tattooed) my body, I sin every single day, and I have a long list of others sins that God knows about and I'm more concerned about living right and trying to discipline myself to be a better follower of God than whine and complain about my candidate not winning the election or to gloat and be prideful about my candidate winning and comment on other's views trying to prove them wrong and laugh at them. I'm more concerned about what God sees in my heart than being angry and upset. I don't care how much college and schooling you've had or if you went or are going to a Christian based school, shut your mouth if you truly want to be a child of God.
If you're that upset about the election outcome, start thinking of ways you can attribute your part, no matter how big or small, to better the economy and better yourself.  Donate your time and donate your love to the matter instead of bitterness and/or boasting with pride. 
The best advice I can take and use and also give is simply this:

Matthew 7:3
KJV:  And why beholdest thou the mote that is in thy brother's eye, but considerest not the beam that is in thine own eye?
Or how wilt thou say to thy brother, Let me pull out the mote out of thine eye; and, behold, a beam is in thine own eye?
Thou hypocrite, first cast out the beam out of thine own eye; and then shalt thou see clearly to cast out the mote out of thy brother's eye.

NIV: “Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother’s eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye? How can you say to your brother, ‘Let me take the speck out of your eye,’ when all the time there is a plank in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the plank out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother’s eye.

GW: So why do you see the piece of sawdust in another believer’s eye and not notice the wooden beam in your own eye? How can you say to another believer, ‘Let me take the piece of sawdust out of your eye,’ when you have a beam in your own eye? You hypocrite! First remove the beam from your own eye. Then you will see clearly to remove the piece of sawdust from another believer’s eye.

NLV: Why do you look at the small piece of wood in your brother’s eye, and do not see the big piece of wood in your own eye? How can you say to your brother, ‘Let me take that small piece of wood out of your eye,’ when there is a big piece of wood in your own eye? You who pretend to be someone you are not, first take the big piece of wood out of your own eye. Then you can see better to take the small piece of wood out of your brother’s eye.

Friday, September 21, 2012

Jergens' Lotion

I would give anything if I could smell that smell again.  Especially tonight. Just a plain ole lotioney smell. Not something I could rub on and sniff, but a mixture of Oil of Olay, Vitamin E cream, and Jergens' Lotion.  I know for a fact it was Jergens because I remember all the bottle sitting around.
Weeks like this week, days like these last couple of days, and hours like these last few hours, are the times I realize how much I miss my mammaw. It didn't matter what she was doing, it didn't matter how tired she was, she was always there. Always there waiting with an open heart, an open mind, 2 open ears, and 2 open arms.  Tonight, I really miss those 2 arms mammaw.  Tonight, I wish I knew I could go to bed and call you in the morning and tell you I was coming down for a while to talk.  You knowingly would prepare a pot of coffee, some biscuits and gravy for the boys, and be ready with tissues.
When my growing pains would hurt as a little girl, my mammaw would massage Icy Hot into them for nearly an hour. I would cry because my legs would hurt so so so bad, and she would sit there, with my chubby legs in her feeble arthritic hands and massage away.
I would sing and sing and sing as I listened to her old 8 track player, and she told me I would be famous one day.  That I was gonna be a star, just like Dolly Parton.  Not just the boobs, but singing and all.
When I got older and I would want to stay with her in North Carolina so bad, but never stayed away from home, she wouldn't force me to stay or go, but encouraged me to.  In spite of her and daddy meeting half way the next morning, I still managed to stay that one night away from home.
When I got married (the first time), she was soooooo proud of me.  She told me that at my reception.  That she was so proud that I had turned out to be a beautiful woman ( like her ) and that I was following my heart, no matter what everyone else said.  Years and years later when I went to her crying that I was getting a divorce, then later crying because people thought I was crazy for getting married again, she repeated those same words.  She was so proud of me for following my heart and not listening to everyone else. She loved Royal.  She would hug on him just as she did me, and that tickled him since his grandparents lived so far away.
When Landon was born, she bragged and bragged on him to everyone.  She said he was different.  There was something special about that one, and he was gonna do big big things one day.  After Rylan was born, she called me constantly to bring him down to play with the chickens.  He still to this day cries, "Mammaw, bock bocks", anytime we go near Elms Springs Ridge.
I miss you.  I miss you more than I can even express, and I'm sorry that I took for granted those little moments mammaw.  I hope that one day I can be half the mother and grandmother that you were to all of us.  I love you.

Wednesday, September 12, 2012

Random Shit My Toddler Does

Rylan woke up in "one of those moods".  The bossy-so-Im-gonna-get-my-way-or-Ill-slap-you-and-then-scream moods.  So I started my wood-burning projects this morning and flipped on Mickey Mouse Clubhouse in hopes that might pep him up a bit.  It actually seemed to be working for a while until " Soopid Goopy" had to ruin it.  I stayed silent the whole time, and just sat back and waited for a good fit....

All the gang had turned into babies in the time machine, because they didn't listen to the Professor. Not very good role models. Anyways, so Clarabelle decided to sing nursery rhymes. She was singing "Patti-cake" when Rylan starts screaming "Noooooooooooooooooooooooo! Noooooooooooooooooo moo moo, no right, no right Mama. Moo moo sing Patti-cake no right!"  :::horrifying scream followed by fake tears:::  Turns out, Clarabelle ( who thinks she's all that and a bag of cookies) decides to change the lyrics and Rylan couldn't stand it.  I don't blame him really.  So he finishes his little fit and then along comes Goofy and some rubber duckies.  Well, Rylan can count to 10, he does it all the time, he doesn't think 3 is a part of the 1 to 10 run.  Goofy starts counting and Rylan counts with him but Rylan says, "One, twooooooo, fourrrrrr... Noooooooooooo Goopy! No No Goopy! No right, it one two four!"  Goofy pretends he doesn't hear Rylan, which makes Rylan even more mad, and keeps recounting the rubber duckies up to 8. "Nooooooooo! Goopy! Mean Mean! I said Nooooooooooooooooooooo! One twooooo fourrrr Goopy! No freeeee, no freee! It fourrrrrr!"  ::horrifying scream then sudden complete silence::  Rylan walks over to the tv, reaches his little arm around the side and since he can't see the panel he runs his fingers up the side until he fines what he's looking for and pushes it.  The tv screen goes black, he smiles, turns around walks out onto the porch shaking his head and under his breath he giggles and says, "Soopid Goopy."

Tuesday, September 4, 2012

One of those days

A while back I had one of those days.  One of those days were drama surrounds you no matter where you try to hide.  A day when the spouse was never satisfied and seemed to keep picking fights, A day when family members kept pushing emotional buttons that made me want to go off. A day when one kid drew on the fish tank with markers and crayons and the other left markers on the couch that leaked. You of those days.
I had ran the husband and children off on an errand so I could finish working in candles without having the urge to stick a wick in them and set them on fire.  I knew without a doubt that I needed to pray.  Yup, just out of nowhere I knew I needed to pray. I knew a phonecall was coming any time, over a situation that was merely created with someone else's emotions and imagination running wild. I had expected it a few hours earlier, but any time now it would ring, and if I didn't pray...oh goodness. Without talking with God first, I would end up cursing and ruining a close bond I would never be able to fully rekindle, plus it would've taken forever and used up tons of Verizon minutes.  So I took a deep breath, turned on my Air 1 app, and I started my prayer aloud, "Help me, Lord. I know I....".  I stopped.  Before I could even finish, or start for that matter "IT" came on.  THE song.  THE song I've always resorted to when this type of issue ate at me..."Losing."  
That's all it took to break down this hardened heart and make me apologize for getting so flustered and nearly resorting to 'mine enemies' level.  I, as if off a dramatic movie, fell like a child to my knees in my dirty kitchen floor.  Pieces of the song floating in my ear as God held me "It's wearing out my heart, the way they disregard. This is love, This is hate.  We all have a choice to make."  My heart has been growing so tired, so so tired.  So tired of worrying and hurting over those who are supposed to love us the most.  I love them, but hate what they had done to my spirit.  
As the song continued so did the tears and the prayers. I figured the phone would be ringing any minute, but I didn't care. God wasn't finished yet. God was easing my heart, lifting that awful hatred off of me, and it was as simple as that. As weird as it sound, as I was talking to God I found myself laughing.  Laughing because after all these months of finding my way to deal with this "situation" I had let ONE tiny little thing set me off!  I was thanking God, still on my knees, wiping the snot and tears away with my candles scented shirt, and said aloud, "Shhhhhhhhhhhhhew. Better.  Now what?"  And honest to God, no joke, the lyrics (now from another song spoke immediately after I finished, "I dare you to move. I dare you to pick yourself up off of the floor.  I dare you to move, like today never happened before."
His message was clear. I had a choice to make, do I resort to hate?  Thinking that would change their hearts?  That "hate" coming from me would make them realize their faults? Nope. Not at all, so I had to chose the love route and let God work on them, work on me, and give me the Grace to forgive them and wisdom to chose the right path.  And with that message had been delivered and I asked, "Now what?", he came with another message.  To simply get up off the floor, continue on with my day and my life like this "hate" episode of mine never happened.  We've all had "One of those days" and God was nudging me to go on.
I stood up, dusted my legs off, moved my hair from my eyes, and just like that...the phone rang.

Monday, September 3, 2012

A dose of 'Get Lost' for breakfast

No amount of medication, wine, therapy, or yoga could contain my emotions at this time of day.  And by emotions, I mean anger and frustration.  Why am I writing about anger so early in the morning? Well, for one, as my momma would say, "You should've went to church yesterday." Two, I don't like mornings. No one really likes mornings, except for the fact that you didn't die in your sleep.

What do you do when you hear the words "Mom! Watch!", "Mom c'mere", "Mom! Guess what?!" nearly a hundred times before 10:00am?! Well, if you're a good (or gullible) mom you watch, you c'mere, and you guess.  So is it too much to ask from the little offspring to not bite, kick, punch holes in the wall, rip diapers in two as if they're Hulk Hogan, all before the sun can even shine thru the fog? Why yes it is. Shame on me for telling you "No. You can't stick a Qtip in the cat's butthole."  "No, you can't eat the soggy dogfood on the porch."  "No, you can't ride with your dad on the lawn mower even though there's water standing in the yard, and it's Labor Day, and it's 8:00am in the morning, and any other time I'd have to bribe him to do so."

I don't like mornings.  In all honestly and fairness, I really don't like mid mornings or any other time frame prior to the p.m. mark. Coffee merely boosts your energy just enough to give you the strength to yell at the things around you that have obviously schemed all night on how to piss you off the next day. Maybe it is just me, but mornings make me mean.  I can bold faced look into my husband's eyes and without hesitation or any emotion say, "You know what? I don't like you.  You get on my nerves, and you will continue to do so until 12:00pm. Come back and ask me where the key to the garage is then, and I might tell you."

They make a morning-after pill, they need to make a night-before pill that keeps the next morning-anger from impregnating me.  I've tried coffee.  I've tried exercising (which only irritates me more seeing my flab jiggle that early in the day and sweating and smelling like I've done something productive when I have merely burnt 1/2 the calories from the latte I drunk to give me the energy to exercise anyways). I've tried prayer, which actually does work...for a while, but then I think sometimes even God kicks back and watches the show.

I've been this way all my life.  There's videos with me in my Popples night gown with a tooth missing and my fro in full force, and my mom has the nerve to ask, "What's wrong flawsy mae? You got the mully grubs?" with a camera sticking in my face, followed by my dad doing the most annoying whistle that to this day makes me cringe as he laughs and says, "Wake up little rose bud...wake uuuUUUUUUUpppp".  Why taunt me?! I was a kid!  And now I'm scarred and bitter for hours EVERY day all because my parents bullied me in the mornings as a child. Yup. That's what I'm going with.

Sunday, September 2, 2012

In the beginning...

Well, here we go.  I've debated on this for a long time, but after many have suggested it, and before my emotions lead to a front page newspaper stating, "Reopening Lakeshore Asylum specifically to admit local crafty tattooed non-sensational singer and mom of 2 due to keeping her mouth shut for too long resulting in ducktaping her mouth shut and locking herself in a closet for days before someone found her."
Some days this blog with be therapeutic, some days this blog will be my kleenex, some days this blog will get cursed at, some days this blog will be boring, some days perhaps empty, some day amusing, and some days completely honest and serious.  None the less, this is my place to jabber and my place to vent and share stories with whoever else might want to read.  I'll begin this tonight, and hopefully every night till I no longer can.  Most nights, I'll probably be hiding in the bathroom pretending to be doing number 2, just so I can be alone and type.