Just Be

I'm still caught up in behavior as much as I thought I wasn't. Yesterday I caught myself thinking that if I made better choices, was as on fire for Christ as I see some others are (Ryan, Zeb, Gretchen, Jotham, and Timbo to name a few), if I was doing my part to really spread the Gospel, that I'd be more worthy to be called His child.

But that's not true! Billy Graham and Mother Teresa couldn't be worthy. Nobody is. Only Jesus! I can never be worthy, only grateful. My only act is to look to Him in faith, and I believe even that is a gift from Him.

When I realized my wrong thinking, I silently asked, "What am I supposed to do...?" His gentle answer still causes pause and consideration. "Enjoy Me."

Just be present in the moment and know that He is here. These moments too are gifts and bound up in time.   I like the adage that we are human beings, not human doings. Be rightly related, and savor His sweet communion. He'll let me know what to do in my next moment and the next.

Cassie

Jylle has a fabulous friend named Cassie. I like Cassie. In fact, I've never met a Cassie I haven't like. This one's impossible not to like. Unless you hate adorable puppies, brightly colored flowers, and fine chocolate. Then you're free to leave this post. And this country.

She's straightforward, honest, kind, brave, socially adept, cheerful, pretty, and moral. She's a party on wheels into the bargain.

Last night she called and wanted to come over to show us something.

Stage Time members showed some of the younger kids how to apply makeup for effect. While this did not beautify or bedazzle her, it was indeed interesting and worth the short side trip that we are on her way home. It was a kick.

Something both Ryan and Jylle do when they drive away is to honk the horn twice right before they get to the big box elder almost to the end of the driveway. Two short beeps is their way of bidding me goodbye, just something easy but personal.

Cassie wanted to do that too, but ended up failing to make the final curve before the road, distracted as she was by the timing of it.

AAA ended up saving the day--again. Honestly, we certainly get our money's worth out of them. Kev and Jylle took Cassie home while I waited for the tow truck to show up, which wasn't until this morning. Ah, well... They didn't apply it to our account since it was their screw-up, which is good business.

Another Cassie story for our family. Sweet girl. We love you. xoxo

Chapter 2

My phone rang just after 6:30 this morning. I jumped out of bed because I left my phone in the kitchen overnight. In my grogginess I thought it announced my mother-in-law, but then I could tell by the ringtone that it was Ryan. He asked if we could Skype for a few minutes. In the muddle that was my mind, I could not think of one good reason for us to do that. "I don't have pants on," was my profound reply. He asked, "Is Daddy there?" I said, "Yes, but he's in the bathroom." He hesitated, then said, "I'd really like to Skype. Just for a few minutes."

I put him on speaker, yanked on some sweats, and warned him that I would have to un-hibernate my lappy first. "No problem." We had just connected when Kev joined me. Ryan looked showered, shaved, and altogether well-groomed, whilst we were bespeckled, sweatshirted, uncombed, and crusty. But at least we were there.

He looked like he was thinking of just the right words, and the thought hit me just before he started to say it. "I got a call from UW last night. I got accepted." Insert whooping and hollering and congratulations *here*. My Kevin is an excitable boy, and he lets fly when there's good news. When Jylle showed up on the scene, Kev told her, and she smiled and said, "I figured that's the only reason you'd be yelling and screaming with Ryan at 6:30 in the morning."

The call came last night while he was talking to Amy, and he wasn't going to pick up since he didn't recognize the number. He did though, which was unusual. Amy could hear the guy's voice, and when she heard what he was saying, she ran out of the room going, "AAAHHHHHHH!!!" Ryan said he felt like saying, "Jeepers, Mister, thanks for calling!!" He said his joy level was akin to finding out that his parents are super spies who just saved the world, and then raced back home to bake cookies.

One of the things I loved was when he said that there's no human way he should have been accepted into medical school. Doesn't matter how good your GPA and M-CATS scores are, the percentage of people who get in is pretty low. "Unless God had done this or that, I wouldn't be in." A thankful heart always gets me. Kev told him not to think too little of himself because "I'm not much, but I got Mama." To which I added, "And it's a small percentage who did."

It's his understanding that he'll be matriculating at the Spokane campus--which is sooo great! He also got into the Trust program, (Targeted Rural/Underserved Tracts), which pays for his schooling and which he repays by working a certain number of years for them. Yeah, baby!



This is him studying a placenta during a job shadow. I know, ewww, but it's the only picture I had of him in anything "labby." He'll be wearing these for reals someday. Wow, my Ryrie a doctor. Maybe he's the one who'll save the world.

Q.

I am w-a-y too easily influenced. There are thousands of really quality blogs out there, writers with incredible talent, commenting on countless topics and seasoned with great photography. I've heard all my life Don't try to be someone else. Just be the best you that you can be. My problem is not being able to narrow that down. When I read a well-done post by a foodie, I think I want to do that. When I read something irrevent and hilarious, I think I want to do that. I want to be sassy and witty, straightforward and uncomplicated, or informed and well-read. Or all of them collectively.

I don't know if it's that I like a million different things or if I just don't know me well enough. I know that figuring out your target market is essential in book publishing, but I'm not marketing anything. I just want to write. And I want it to be good. I need to be proud of it because it's going to represent who I am and what that means.

More than halfway through my life, and I'm still asking the question of a lifetime: Who am I? I have a great starting point for the answer to that, and I wonder if there can ever be a conclusion to a quest of this scope--or if it's so simple that I'm missing it...

Did I say thanks for that?

It's day 31 of Project Gratitude, and I'm glad to say that so far I haven't missed a day. It's been a terrific exercise in examining the blessings in my life, and I find myself thinking about them way more than I ever did before. I've always appreciated the words Thank You, so to apply them more often only seems appropriate, especially given the humongous blessings that wallpaper my life.

I was coming back from feeding the horses when I realized that it was going to be a sunny day. I grabbed my camera and waited (not very patiently) in the snow to watch the sun slide up behind the mountain. My camera freaks out in bright light from a sand mishap in Corpus Christi, painting horizontal stripes across the pictures, but I manage to like this photo anyway. There are frozen weeds right in front of my eyes, but beyond them is a bigger, brighter landscape with Hope glistening like floodlights. It's a lesson in perspective for me, something I've needed for a long time.

Off to go be grateful for something now. Tootles!

New Year's Resolution

"If the only prayer you ever pray in your whole life is 'thank you,' that would suffice." ~Meister Eckhart

I am inspired by this quote and the notion of being grateful, for at least one thing, every single day. I never make New Year's resolutions, so this year is different. I'm challenging myself to nurture a grateful heart, so I'm going to post one thing for which I'm thankful for the next 366 days (it's a leap year!) in a new blog called "Every Day Grateful."

My God is generosity, kindness, love, grace, provision, and joy. I'm looking forward to naming some results of that mighty gifting, as He inspires.

Thank You, Lord, for this opportunity.

Thanksgiving 2011

This last weekend could be dubbed "The Best Thanksgiving Ever," or at least the best in a really long time, but that title's too long. For being the first one without my mom, only my God could turn it into a scrapbook full of wonderful memories.

Kev's brother's family came over and brought their mom with them. My nephew Brian lives in LA, and it was his idea for us to all get together here. He's a brilliant young man! It was his first time here, as well as his sister Jamie's, and Mel's. Doreen and Mom came up in 2009 for my folks' 50th.

Jamie with my Sahib

Brian with Sahib

The boys went on a Thanksgiving Day ride, one of the two things Brian wanted to do during this visit. The other thing was do some shooting, but the next day's ride went into sunset, and it was just too dark.
On Friday's ride, Mel drove the four-wheeler, and Brian and Jamie switched on and off Sahib since she didn't get to go the day before. Here, Brett and Brian are tooling around the fields.

Dinner! We deep-fried two turkeys to make sure we'd have leftovers after 13 people ate. Alan's was absolutely deluxe. He injects his with a buttery garlic marinade--eeYUM!

Mom, Doreen, and Wayneen

The Kids' Table

We all rambled outside after dinner to get some pictures. Three cameras, one tripod. We are a talented lot. This is the one I used for our Christmas cards. The original had Doolie's butt in it, so I digitized it right outta there. Wish I'd cleaned up Jylle's hair before I had 50 cards printed, but I honestly didn't notice it was all fly-away on top until she pointed it out. It's fixed here.

We don't have very many pictures of just the two of us. I'm sure that'll change some if we retire and do some traveling. I'm just glad this one turned out.

"Brydia"

This is one of my very most favorite pictures. I liked it so much that I had it printed, and it's sitting in a lovely frame on my kitchen window sill where it cheers me 50 times a day. He does not get why everyone likes it so much, but WE do. He might not think it's uncharacteristic, but we know better.

All of us

All the Mulligans

We liked this one so much that we had an 8x10 enlargement made for a Western style frame that Kev made last year. We'd been waiting for just the right picture, and this was it.

What a grand weekend. One of the things that impressed me is that for three days, 11 of us were pretty much together all the time, and there was no friction. There were no jabs, offenses, or hurt feelings to my knowledge. It was absolutely great.

There was one time that might have produced some disappointment. It was quite accidental, and again, I'm really sorry, Lydia, that Ryan and I managed to forget one of only two grocery items you needed. We cannot be left to do the job of one normal person. What can I say--we must always be supervised by an adult.

Sweet, sweet days altogether. Thank You, Lord, for your goodness and grace.

Goober

This is Goober. We got him about 15 years ago. But we didn't mean to.

A friend asked if we wanted a kitten. We did, but I wanted a gray tabby. He shook his head and said they didn't have one.

About a month later, he asked again if we wanted a kitten. I said we did, but I wanted a gray tabby. He paused for just a second and holding my gaze said, "It's a gray tabby. It is." I remember thinking That's funny. I thought he said last time they didn't have one.

We found a box on our porch the next night, the promised gray tabby. We opened it in the house, and out jumped a sleek, gray kitty, completely freaked out by the ride, the box, the new humans, and probably the scent of dogs. He shot down the hall, and we chased him all over the place for about 15 minutes before we caught him.

"Caught" isn't exactly accurate. In his panic, he flew down a dark hall, wheeled into a bedroom, and dropped down an uncovered heating vent. We checked it out in the basement, and the duct was slanted, dead ending him in a tube too slick to climb back up unless you're Spiderman. We left him there overnight (it was around midnight). Kev unscrewed the mount the next morning, and we slid him back into the box. He still looked nervous, but nothing like the previous night.

He spent his life being a garage cat instead of the barn cat we wanted, but he was a good mouser--no mice problems on Goober's watch! He never liked being held, but he appreciated some attention. He was stealthy, dependable, and always on duty.

Later last year he started getting really verbal, meowing loudly and constantly. He also began pacing, or at least moving a lot. He would jump onto the garden bench and paw you if you didn't pet him. When he started losing weight, I did some Internet research and figured he probably had feline diabetes.

We came home from church, and Kev found him in the garage... He buried him with the horses, Jake and Gadget, under a lone pine, fitting for a loner who had little fear of the horses. I like this picture. Looks like he's going off now, business to do and all.

See ya later, Schnoobers. And thanks for everything.

wattawoman

Glenice. Even her name is unique. Some friends are the entree, and some are dessert. Glenice is the whole meal.

This is what I mean. I anticipate her company; dig into, consider, and enjoy the things we talk and laugh about; savor the time; digest and remember happily the time we spent together. This is what I do with a good meal--anticipate, enjoy, savor, and remember it all over again later. There is never a time I do not come away from her company unsatisfied.

Like a favorite restaurant, I'm often pleasantly surprised by new entries on the menu. I've known Glenice for about 12 years, and it seems that about every three, I find out something completely new about her. When I met her, she'd just gone on a three-mile run with her son. She hadn't been exercising daily or working up to running, just up and went. She's that naturally athletic. She used to have a job setting bear traps. Yep, she's my bear trapper friend, no confusion over any other friend there! She hand dug a pit for their outhouse. She knows sign language--like, fluently! I can't wait for the next discovery. It's due in two years.

She wields a drill better than she does a tube of lipstick, and her projects are usually accomplished with both speed and love. When we made decorative birdhouses for the Ya-Yas for Christmas last fall, I held the pieces of wood while she operated the nail gun. *Ka-chew!Ka-chew!Ka-chew!* The trigger went off like a machine gun while the blasts of air pelted me in the face. I must have flinched 50 times that day. Turns out she had to be a little less trigger happy if we wanted enough nails to finish all the birdhouses. I kept the one with the 105+ staples as a remembrance of all the laughing we did...

She is so kind, loving, and fun, and her gazillion friends love her. I'm just blessed to be one of them.

Do-over

I just woke up from the sweetest dream!

The boys were little. Brett was about 4 and Ryan not quite two, so they were younger than in this picture. Ryan was running around with that twinkle of possible mischief in his eyes, and Brett was building a Lego fort bigger than both of them. He jumped up on top of it, and I told him to get off (joykiller :/ ). My mom was trying to sleep in the living room, so I took all three of them--Jylle had joined us by now--and rearranged the furniture in one bedroom so they had a kind of stairs to climb where they could jump down onto a bed. Not quiet fun realistically, but hey, this was a dream, and stuff just gets to "be" in them.

Jylle asked if she could jump too, and even though the boys weren't thrilled, I said yes. She was so excited. It was so. much. fun. to be playing with my little ones again! Ryan would run around just like he used to, cape flying behind him, curly hair framing a face starting to bead with sweat. Brett was studious, in the way he had of absorbing all the details around him. He was their leader, showing them the best way to do things, even in a dream...

I always did relish playing with my children like that. I remember taking a door we weren't using and setting up as a slide in the living room, propping it up on the couch and throwing a couple of pillows down at the bottom to soften the landing for their little bums. More than once we made a game of keep away on the bunkbeds--you had to stay on the beds, no touching the floor, or you were out. My favorite games were ones that ended up with me hugging them, which I pretty much ended with no matter what we were playing, come to think of it. Yeah, Hug Da Babies--my favorite game of all...

My mom needing quiet because of a headache was something all too familiar from my own years of growing up. They plagued her so regularly that it was more uncommon for her not to have one. It was either fairly quiet in the house because noise really played havoc on her hearing aids, or because she was trying to sleep away a throbbing head. In my dream, I was the one making noise that disturbed her though, not the kids. I kept tripping or banging my head, just klutzy stuff. I don't think I really did that in real life. Of course, there wouldn't be a long piece of metal roofing set at a precarious angle in my real life living room that I'd have to dodge like there was in the dream.

My sweet chillins and my mama in pain--memories of the sweet and the sorrowful... I'll take it.