Wowza. It has been a stressful few weeks pretty much for everybody I know. It started for my family with my unexpected stay in the hospital, followed by my mom being hospitalized, followed by devastating and deadly tornadoes, and now the Coronavirus, which for me, is causing mass cancelations of tours. Add to that schools closed, wacky politics, and the run on toilet paper and disinfecting wipes at the grocery and it can feel like a lot.
We have one family member who is swimming in anxiety over the virus, another who is a bit more cavalier. They stress each other. Those who are in healthcare have to feel pressure on right diagnoses, who to suggest go home and self-quarantine or who to send to the hospital. It is a lot.
I heard someone from the CDC talk about how devastating the Coronavirus will most likely be in Africa because of the lack of medical care and the vulnerability of the population. That makes me think of my friends at Exile International and Made in the Streets and those who work with Living Water. It is distressing and it is a lot.
Today, I read a piece that makes the most sense to me concerning our responsibility and the Coronavirus. If you are young and unconcerned about getting sick because in your demographic few are dying, then good for you. But, there is a whole big valuable demographic for whom you are also responsible...your parents and grandparents. So, take care, and possibly keep yourself from large crowds in an effort to protect others. That is really not asking a lot.
The other piece that hit me is that if we will be cautious and keep ourselves away from large groups and just follow the precautions of washing hands and cleaning hard surfaces well, we will at least slow down the spread of the virus which will enhance our hospitals' ability to treat the most ill patients. Slowing the virus down will possibly keep from overwhelming hospitals and prevent healthcare workers from having to decide which patient will get the last available ventilator and which will be left to die. I cannot even imagine the agony of having to make such decisions. That is a lot.
So, yes, it is a stressful time. Bless, I have one child whose sewerage backed up in their house and they are having to deal with poop and toilet paper floating around in their basement. That is a lot in the best of times.
Not being one who subscribes to the "let go and let God," mantra, I believe God expects us to care for each other and look beyond our own navels. I, in no way believe that God caused this virus. My teaching minister Sunday made a statement that went something like this..."the power of God was not shown in the storm (tornadoes in Nashville last week), but it was in the faces of those who came to serve the victims of the storm." I believe we have the opportunity to show the love of God by trying to overcome our fear (not our caution), do what we can to protect ourselves and others, and serve where we are called. That is a lot.
We have never been promised that this life would be easy and without stress. If it is, we are not living it rightly. But I offer you the following passage from Isaiah 41:10:
"So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand."
It is a lot.
Friday, March 13, 2020
Monday, February 24, 2020
Well, That was a Strange Interruption...a self-indulgent post
Mainly, I write this so I'll remember. I am hoping the day will come when I can forget it. It is long and tedious. If you're seeing this, I've tried to give you fair warning.
Three glorious weeks in Sanibel. The weather was beautiful, the company stellar, the rest welcomed. On the last full day, just Mr. L and me, I began to have pain in my jaw, that I thought was TMJ. Periodically, over the past several years, I will have TMJ pain that is readily taken care of by 2 Advil and not lying on the sofa in my den with my head resting on the arm. This day, however, 2 Advil did not phase the pain. It increased during the afternoon and interfered with restful sleep that night.
Saturday morning found me in extreme pain and an inability to open my mouth very wide. Still, I am thinking this is just a bad flare-up of TMJ. Our flight home was scheduled at 5:15 pm so we had the whole day to kill. Killing time for the Switzers is one of the hardest things in the world. We are more "let's get this show on the road" kind of folks, but it was a glorious day on the island and we found ways to spend that time. The problem was, I was in an enormous amount of pain. I had oatmeal for breakfast because I was unable to chew anything and could barely get the spoon in my mouth. I had a smoothie for lunch. During the course of the day, I took multiple Advil, Aleves, and drank 3 ounces of Jack Daniels Whiskey just trying to get away from the pain. Nothing worked.
We arrived at the airport 3 hours before our flight. Anyone who flies knows that's a ridiculous amount of waiting, but it was just the best we could do. About thirty minutes before our scheduled boarding time, the announcement came across that our flight had been delayed. I sincerely thought I was going to lie down in the floor and wail in disappointment. Turns out, a flight earlier in the day headed for Providence, RI had been delayed, so the airline decided to put those people on our plane and then send us later. Maybe that made sense, except for the fact that those destined for Providence were told to return to the gate at 6:30 for their flight, and their flight took off at 5:15. So, a plane with 19 travelers (Mr. L counted them as they boarded) took off to RI while another 20-30 were told they had missed the plane because they came to the gate at the time they were told. Security had to be called to handle those irate folks. Pretty much, everyone in that gate was unhappy.
Finally, we get to board and head home. All I could think about was taking a warm bath, putting warm compresses on my aching face, and sleeping in my own bed. After that warm bath, I noticed a small pocket of swelling in my jaw. I thought to myself that I must have an abscessed tooth and I would have to call the dentist first thing Monday. At midnight, I woke up and realized that the swelling had increased significantly and at 2:00 am it had increased even more. I woke Mr. L, showed him the swelling, he called our daughter, an NP, who said, "take her to the emergency room." I think we both thought that was extreme, but we asked her advice and we trust her, so we followed her suggestion. Both of us were thinking that the hospital would give me an antibiotic shot and tell me to call my dentist on Monday. We were wrong.
When the ER doctor said that she felt they should keep me in the hospital, Mr. L asked, "what do you think that means?" I said, "I guess they are going to admit me?" He said, "maybe they are just going to watch you here in the ER." So, I thought, I bet he's right, I feel better. Not much later, the doctor said, "well, we're going to put you in ICU, does that sound reasonable?" Mr. L and I looked at each other incredulously, but my face continued to swell, and the ICU seemed more reasonable that going home.
Three nights in the ICU, not much sleep, Codes Blue, at least one death. I had a compromised airway, could not swallow anything, so no food and no liquids for 40 hours or so. The nurses were wonderful and attentive. The last day in the ICU we learned that I had a bacterial infection that had moved to my bloodstream. I was on massive IV antibiotics. I did not really understand what that meant until my nurse mentioned the word "septic." That, I understood, but how could someone not feel badly and be septic? It's funny how the little things become so important. I was so ready to move to a regular room where I could get a shower. On day 4 I was moved. The shower had to wait until the next day, but at least I was a step closer.
More days in the hospital waiting for the bacteria to be identified. It was Parvimonus micra, apparently very rare. I learned later that this was the first time St. Thomas Hospital had ever seen it. More days waiting for them to figure out what antibiotic would be most effective against it. One morning I woke up with a swollen knee. This caused a bit of alarm among the doctors with the concern that it might be the bacteria in my knee. So, I had my knee drained by a radiologist who, apparently, was unaware that a person was attached to the knee. That was NO fun! The fluid was questionable for the bacterial because white blood cells were there indicating they were fighting something. The fluid did not grow the bacteria, thank Goodness.
The usual back and forth, up and down that come with medical diagnoses. My family was more aware of the danger of the situation than I was. It is hard to watch the people you love stressed and fearful, and feel like you're causing it, even though you know it was nothing you did. It truly is easier to be the patient, in spite of the pain and needles and knee drainings than it is to watch someone you love go through all that. Finally, I was dismissed on oral antibiotics, the best thing I could hope for, and I was ecstatic to go home. There truly is no place like home.
People were so nice...nurses, caregivers, doctors, those who brought me my meals, and let me say, the food in St. Thomas is not bad at all, in fact it is pretty yummy. I left the hospital still with jaw pain, unable to open my mouth very far, so, of course that had to be addressed. The oral surgeon I was told to see worked wonders in that regard, and I can now eat and chew again. I have a couple more doctors to see in an effort to try to figure out what in the world this whole thing was about and where it started in my body. I doubt we will ever figure out where I actually picked up the bacteria. I find myself a bit paranoid at every twinge, but, hopefully, as I get further from the hospital experience, that will improve as well. I am grateful beyond my ability to express for all the cards and prayers and flowers and texts and calls, just the love that was shown me.
What I knew intellectually but what was brought back to mind is, life can be interrupted in various ways. I hope I'm done with this, I truly do, but unexpected interruptions are going to occur. I just hope I have the good sense to stop and mark the event, take the lessons it offers, and come away a better, more compassionate and empathetic person.
Three glorious weeks in Sanibel. The weather was beautiful, the company stellar, the rest welcomed. On the last full day, just Mr. L and me, I began to have pain in my jaw, that I thought was TMJ. Periodically, over the past several years, I will have TMJ pain that is readily taken care of by 2 Advil and not lying on the sofa in my den with my head resting on the arm. This day, however, 2 Advil did not phase the pain. It increased during the afternoon and interfered with restful sleep that night.
Saturday morning found me in extreme pain and an inability to open my mouth very wide. Still, I am thinking this is just a bad flare-up of TMJ. Our flight home was scheduled at 5:15 pm so we had the whole day to kill. Killing time for the Switzers is one of the hardest things in the world. We are more "let's get this show on the road" kind of folks, but it was a glorious day on the island and we found ways to spend that time. The problem was, I was in an enormous amount of pain. I had oatmeal for breakfast because I was unable to chew anything and could barely get the spoon in my mouth. I had a smoothie for lunch. During the course of the day, I took multiple Advil, Aleves, and drank 3 ounces of Jack Daniels Whiskey just trying to get away from the pain. Nothing worked.
We arrived at the airport 3 hours before our flight. Anyone who flies knows that's a ridiculous amount of waiting, but it was just the best we could do. About thirty minutes before our scheduled boarding time, the announcement came across that our flight had been delayed. I sincerely thought I was going to lie down in the floor and wail in disappointment. Turns out, a flight earlier in the day headed for Providence, RI had been delayed, so the airline decided to put those people on our plane and then send us later. Maybe that made sense, except for the fact that those destined for Providence were told to return to the gate at 6:30 for their flight, and their flight took off at 5:15. So, a plane with 19 travelers (Mr. L counted them as they boarded) took off to RI while another 20-30 were told they had missed the plane because they came to the gate at the time they were told. Security had to be called to handle those irate folks. Pretty much, everyone in that gate was unhappy.
Finally, we get to board and head home. All I could think about was taking a warm bath, putting warm compresses on my aching face, and sleeping in my own bed. After that warm bath, I noticed a small pocket of swelling in my jaw. I thought to myself that I must have an abscessed tooth and I would have to call the dentist first thing Monday. At midnight, I woke up and realized that the swelling had increased significantly and at 2:00 am it had increased even more. I woke Mr. L, showed him the swelling, he called our daughter, an NP, who said, "take her to the emergency room." I think we both thought that was extreme, but we asked her advice and we trust her, so we followed her suggestion. Both of us were thinking that the hospital would give me an antibiotic shot and tell me to call my dentist on Monday. We were wrong.
When the ER doctor said that she felt they should keep me in the hospital, Mr. L asked, "what do you think that means?" I said, "I guess they are going to admit me?" He said, "maybe they are just going to watch you here in the ER." So, I thought, I bet he's right, I feel better. Not much later, the doctor said, "well, we're going to put you in ICU, does that sound reasonable?" Mr. L and I looked at each other incredulously, but my face continued to swell, and the ICU seemed more reasonable that going home.
Three nights in the ICU, not much sleep, Codes Blue, at least one death. I had a compromised airway, could not swallow anything, so no food and no liquids for 40 hours or so. The nurses were wonderful and attentive. The last day in the ICU we learned that I had a bacterial infection that had moved to my bloodstream. I was on massive IV antibiotics. I did not really understand what that meant until my nurse mentioned the word "septic." That, I understood, but how could someone not feel badly and be septic? It's funny how the little things become so important. I was so ready to move to a regular room where I could get a shower. On day 4 I was moved. The shower had to wait until the next day, but at least I was a step closer.
More days in the hospital waiting for the bacteria to be identified. It was Parvimonus micra, apparently very rare. I learned later that this was the first time St. Thomas Hospital had ever seen it. More days waiting for them to figure out what antibiotic would be most effective against it. One morning I woke up with a swollen knee. This caused a bit of alarm among the doctors with the concern that it might be the bacteria in my knee. So, I had my knee drained by a radiologist who, apparently, was unaware that a person was attached to the knee. That was NO fun! The fluid was questionable for the bacterial because white blood cells were there indicating they were fighting something. The fluid did not grow the bacteria, thank Goodness.
The usual back and forth, up and down that come with medical diagnoses. My family was more aware of the danger of the situation than I was. It is hard to watch the people you love stressed and fearful, and feel like you're causing it, even though you know it was nothing you did. It truly is easier to be the patient, in spite of the pain and needles and knee drainings than it is to watch someone you love go through all that. Finally, I was dismissed on oral antibiotics, the best thing I could hope for, and I was ecstatic to go home. There truly is no place like home.
People were so nice...nurses, caregivers, doctors, those who brought me my meals, and let me say, the food in St. Thomas is not bad at all, in fact it is pretty yummy. I left the hospital still with jaw pain, unable to open my mouth very far, so, of course that had to be addressed. The oral surgeon I was told to see worked wonders in that regard, and I can now eat and chew again. I have a couple more doctors to see in an effort to try to figure out what in the world this whole thing was about and where it started in my body. I doubt we will ever figure out where I actually picked up the bacteria. I find myself a bit paranoid at every twinge, but, hopefully, as I get further from the hospital experience, that will improve as well. I am grateful beyond my ability to express for all the cards and prayers and flowers and texts and calls, just the love that was shown me.
What I knew intellectually but what was brought back to mind is, life can be interrupted in various ways. I hope I'm done with this, I truly do, but unexpected interruptions are going to occur. I just hope I have the good sense to stop and mark the event, take the lessons it offers, and come away a better, more compassionate and empathetic person.
Friday, January 17, 2020
A Little Mother-Son Mischief
Today was the last full day that my children and grandchildren will be with us on Sanibel Island. It has been a wonderful time with bonus days with both MP and Marshall. On the rare years that they leave before us, we all feel a bit sad. It is so hard to leave the beach on the last day. Marshall and I were the last to come in and we were both in tears.
For several days there was a giant inflatable duck wedged between a trash can and the fence around the condo pool. This morning, a gentleman who works at the condo said that he was going to put the duck in the trash and asked if we would like to play with it. Well, certainly no one in their right mind would turn down a giant, smiley duck. The grandchildren had great fun jumping on, riding, and fighting over the duck. He was a huge hit.
Later in the day, we congregated at the beach and someone suggested that the duck might be fun in the gulf. The boys joyfully went together to retrieve him from the pool deck. There was a mighty wind blowing and a means for hanging on to the duck was needed. Earlier in the week, Violet had discovered a vine about twenty feet long. She had used it to rig a trap in her effort to capture a seagull. Chasing them with a small fish net proved futile so a well-planned trap made up of a hole dug in the sand covered by a small plastic wagon attached to the vine was devised. Bread was used to lure the birds to the trap, but she was unsuccessful in catching a seagull, thank goodness. I’m fairly certain that we all would have freaked out had she been successful.
When the giant inflatable duck was brought to the beach on this most windy day, Violet’s vine was put to good use again. The boys thought riding the waves on the duck would be fun so Simeon attached the vine to the duck and then tried to stake it in the sand. This arrangement was set up to keep Max safe while in the water. The stake came loose, the waves flipped the duck, Max fell off and it was decided that riding the duck in the surf was not much fun. Violet then used the vine as a string to fly the duck as a kite, and actually at one point the wind caught it and it did, for a brief moment, behave very much like a kite. The duck provided much entertainment, but one by one everybody decided to call it a day and headed back to their respective condos.
MP and Violet were packing up when it became necessary to make a decision about the duck’s future. He was tethered to MP’s chair by Violet’s vine because, as has been said, the wind was tremendous. MP asked what should be done with the duck, and I replied, “let’s just let the duck go.” Marshall was shocked, minimally, truth be told, that his mother would make such a suggestion. The duck being let loose to fly as he may seemed a much better end than a condo employee throwing him in the trash. Besides, think of the spectacle of a giant, yellow duck flying end over end over the sand. It was going to be great...and it was! I mean that duck was free, flying down the beach, big ol’ smile on his face, passing folks as he joyfully flew over the sand, when way down the beach, just as the duck was happily about to hit the water there came a man running out of the sea oats across the beach to rescue the duck. Marshall and I watched (MP had already left unwilling to witness the folly of our poor decision to let the duck go) with trepidation and curiosity. What would the man do with the captured duck?
From our vantage point it seemed as though the man and the woman with whom he had been walking a dog were trying to figure out what do now that the man had captured the duck. During the consultation the woman sort of threw her hands in the air as if to say, “I don’t know.” The man struggled with the giant duck trying to somehow weigh him down so he would stay put. It has been mentioned that the wind was tremendous. There was nothing nearby to aid the man in holding the duck down. To our horror, it appeared that the man had come to a decision and it looked as though he intended to carry the duck down the beach inquiring of each person along the way if the duck belonged to them. It was only a matter of time before he got to us. Marshall and I had to make a decision. When asked, do we say, “it’s not our duck,” which technically was true but very much felt like a lie. I even, not proudly, thought about saying that we had also seen the duck flying down the beach, but again, not exactly honest. So, we did the only thing we knew to do, we somewhat rapidly got up, picked up our stuff and walked off the beach before the Good Samaritan could get to us to inquire about any knowledge we might have concerning the duck. We were crying...with laughter.
I really hope that duck found a good home and I hope that man did not walk all the way to the end of the island trying to find the rightful owner. One thing I do know, that duck brought, and his story will continue to bring great joy to this mother and her son. It ranks right up there with the day we set gunpowder off in every room of our house. Now, that was amazing!
For several days there was a giant inflatable duck wedged between a trash can and the fence around the condo pool. This morning, a gentleman who works at the condo said that he was going to put the duck in the trash and asked if we would like to play with it. Well, certainly no one in their right mind would turn down a giant, smiley duck. The grandchildren had great fun jumping on, riding, and fighting over the duck. He was a huge hit.
Later in the day, we congregated at the beach and someone suggested that the duck might be fun in the gulf. The boys joyfully went together to retrieve him from the pool deck. There was a mighty wind blowing and a means for hanging on to the duck was needed. Earlier in the week, Violet had discovered a vine about twenty feet long. She had used it to rig a trap in her effort to capture a seagull. Chasing them with a small fish net proved futile so a well-planned trap made up of a hole dug in the sand covered by a small plastic wagon attached to the vine was devised. Bread was used to lure the birds to the trap, but she was unsuccessful in catching a seagull, thank goodness. I’m fairly certain that we all would have freaked out had she been successful.
When the giant inflatable duck was brought to the beach on this most windy day, Violet’s vine was put to good use again. The boys thought riding the waves on the duck would be fun so Simeon attached the vine to the duck and then tried to stake it in the sand. This arrangement was set up to keep Max safe while in the water. The stake came loose, the waves flipped the duck, Max fell off and it was decided that riding the duck in the surf was not much fun. Violet then used the vine as a string to fly the duck as a kite, and actually at one point the wind caught it and it did, for a brief moment, behave very much like a kite. The duck provided much entertainment, but one by one everybody decided to call it a day and headed back to their respective condos.
MP and Violet were packing up when it became necessary to make a decision about the duck’s future. He was tethered to MP’s chair by Violet’s vine because, as has been said, the wind was tremendous. MP asked what should be done with the duck, and I replied, “let’s just let the duck go.” Marshall was shocked, minimally, truth be told, that his mother would make such a suggestion. The duck being let loose to fly as he may seemed a much better end than a condo employee throwing him in the trash. Besides, think of the spectacle of a giant, yellow duck flying end over end over the sand. It was going to be great...and it was! I mean that duck was free, flying down the beach, big ol’ smile on his face, passing folks as he joyfully flew over the sand, when way down the beach, just as the duck was happily about to hit the water there came a man running out of the sea oats across the beach to rescue the duck. Marshall and I watched (MP had already left unwilling to witness the folly of our poor decision to let the duck go) with trepidation and curiosity. What would the man do with the captured duck?
From our vantage point it seemed as though the man and the woman with whom he had been walking a dog were trying to figure out what do now that the man had captured the duck. During the consultation the woman sort of threw her hands in the air as if to say, “I don’t know.” The man struggled with the giant duck trying to somehow weigh him down so he would stay put. It has been mentioned that the wind was tremendous. There was nothing nearby to aid the man in holding the duck down. To our horror, it appeared that the man had come to a decision and it looked as though he intended to carry the duck down the beach inquiring of each person along the way if the duck belonged to them. It was only a matter of time before he got to us. Marshall and I had to make a decision. When asked, do we say, “it’s not our duck,” which technically was true but very much felt like a lie. I even, not proudly, thought about saying that we had also seen the duck flying down the beach, but again, not exactly honest. So, we did the only thing we knew to do, we somewhat rapidly got up, picked up our stuff and walked off the beach before the Good Samaritan could get to us to inquire about any knowledge we might have concerning the duck. We were crying...with laughter.
I really hope that duck found a good home and I hope that man did not walk all the way to the end of the island trying to find the rightful owner. One thing I do know, that duck brought, and his story will continue to bring great joy to this mother and her son. It ranks right up there with the day we set gunpowder off in every room of our house. Now, that was amazing!
Wednesday, January 1, 2020
For Whom Shall We Pray?
If you live in Nashville, you certainly heard about the terrible tragedy of the stabbing deaths of Clayton Beathard and Paul Trapeni III. It was a heart-breaking tragedy that just did not need to be. Prayers have been offered on behalf of each of these families by many they know and by those of us who have not and probably will not ever meet them. Scenes of the joy in anticipation of their being home for Christmas break and their presence at family gatherings turned to the deep sadness of unopened gifts that will never be used, worn, nor eaten. Holiday gatherings turned into funeral services. Lives ended before they really got started. Dreams that will never be realized. It is too much to comprehend. And, so we pray comfort on them.
There is a third boy, for yes, 21 and 22 year olds are still boys, who will forever bear visible and invisible scars from that devastation. He will close his eyes in an effort to sleep but find himself reliving the chaos and pain of that night, the loss of two friends. It is all a nightmare. And, so we pray peace and rest for him.
Their families find peace in their faith. They believe and trust that their sons are in their true home with their true Father. It is the only way such grief can be borne, the only way they can put one foot in front of the other. And, so we pray a constant awareness of God's presence and attention.
Michael Mosley is the boy who has been arrested for wielding the knife. He spent his Christmas alone in a house in Cheatham County. Whether drugs or alcohol or childhood abuse or whatever was the driving force that brought him to that place and those deeds may not matter. There are consequences. Perhaps, all involved might have been spared this tragedy if this boy had been held more accountable four years ago after he was involved in a similar incident, one that did not result in a death. Perhaps, it would have made no difference at all. I have self-proclaimed Jesus loving friends who were gleeful when this boy was arrested and made statements like, "I hope they burn his a$$" and "he's going to get his in prison." Is this what we pray? Perhaps, he and we would benefit more if we pray redemption, not retribution on this boy who has ruined his own life, taken the life of two, and wrecked countless others who love him and loved them. Perhaps, by praying for him and his family as well as the Beathards and Trapenis, we grow a bit closer to the nature of that Jesus we so righteously proclaim.
There is a third boy, for yes, 21 and 22 year olds are still boys, who will forever bear visible and invisible scars from that devastation. He will close his eyes in an effort to sleep but find himself reliving the chaos and pain of that night, the loss of two friends. It is all a nightmare. And, so we pray peace and rest for him.
Their families find peace in their faith. They believe and trust that their sons are in their true home with their true Father. It is the only way such grief can be borne, the only way they can put one foot in front of the other. And, so we pray a constant awareness of God's presence and attention.
Michael Mosley is the boy who has been arrested for wielding the knife. He spent his Christmas alone in a house in Cheatham County. Whether drugs or alcohol or childhood abuse or whatever was the driving force that brought him to that place and those deeds may not matter. There are consequences. Perhaps, all involved might have been spared this tragedy if this boy had been held more accountable four years ago after he was involved in a similar incident, one that did not result in a death. Perhaps, it would have made no difference at all. I have self-proclaimed Jesus loving friends who were gleeful when this boy was arrested and made statements like, "I hope they burn his a$$" and "he's going to get his in prison." Is this what we pray? Perhaps, he and we would benefit more if we pray redemption, not retribution on this boy who has ruined his own life, taken the life of two, and wrecked countless others who love him and loved them. Perhaps, by praying for him and his family as well as the Beathards and Trapenis, we grow a bit closer to the nature of that Jesus we so righteously proclaim.
Monday, August 5, 2019
Mr. Earl Barnes of Savannah, Georgia
Last week, I had the opportunity to spend five days in Savannah. Mr. L was in a conference, so I spent the better part of every day just roaming, reading historical markers, and taking pictures.
Snapping pictures of the iconic fountain in Forsythe Park, a gentleman shouted to me asking if I wanted him to take a picture of me in front of the fountain. I am not proud that my first thought was that I did not because I wasn't sure that I wanted to hand my camera over to him. I hate that I allow the darkness of this world make me suspicious of people I don't know. I also don't much like having my picture made, so there was that.
I did walk over to him, however, to thank him for the offer. He asked if I wanted a poem he wrote. I said I would love one, but I didn't have any money on me to pay for it. He said that was okay, he was happy to share the poem. He asked why everyone thinks everything is about money. I replied that I figured he needed to eat and that cost money. He said that was true, but he had had a cup of coffee that morning and he would get a check for $900 from his social security next week, so he was doing just fine.
He said he was a homeless veteran. I shook his hand and thanked him for his service. He then began to share his beautiful thoughts about how we are all family. He said we all belong to the family of God and we just need to look after each other. I told him I agreed with him, kicking myself for not having cash on me to share with him, but I was not going to insult him again by mentioning money. I told him a favorite quote of mine, "only look in your neighbor's yard to be sure he has enough." He really liked that and said he would remember it.
He handed me the copy of his poem, written on tattered paper, in a mainly illegible hand. He had drawn hearts, emphasized by a yellow highlighter. Toward the bottom is a cross with a sun, I think. I asked him his name. He said he was Earl Barnes. I shook his hand again and told him how nice it was to meet him.
I walked away, reading his poem. There were only parts of it that I could decipher..."Aunt Mary's Table of love," "children return from school," "Joining God's Family, we serve all." As I walked away, it dawned on me that I had actually stuck some money in my phone case. I hurried back, finding Earl's coat had been left on a bench and he and a friend walking away. I shouted to him, asking if that was his coat. He said, "Lawd, that's the third time this week I've left my coat behind; I've got so much in my hands." I handed him a little money, told him to buy himself some lunch if he wanted to use it for that. He danced a little jig and asked, "can I hug you," to which I replied, "I'd be honored to get a hug from you, Earl."
In our conversation, I learned that Earl and I are the same age. I pondered how much easier my life has been than his, but how much more appreciative Earl is for the blessings God has rained on him. There are so many people in so many places from whom I need to learn.
"Do not forget to entertain strangers, for by so doing some people have entertained angels without knowing it." Hebrews 13:2
Certainly, Earl was not entertaining an angel, but I must wonder, was I?
Thursday, July 25, 2019
Week 4
Day 1
As always, I explain these camp blogs are written so the boys and I can remember. I know they are tedious.
How has this summer gone by so quickly? It's Thursday afternoon as I write this and the boys left about an hour early today. I needed the time, but I feel a little sick inside that our second year of Mellie's Summer Camp of Excellence is over. Time...hard to comprehend.
Tuesday was a busy, busy day. It was our second annual cook-for-the-parents night. The first thing we did was make our crème brulee so that it would have time to cook and cool. While it was cooking, they made chocolate bowls. I bought all the right supplies for that including silicone cups. They were supposed to make popping the chocolate cups out so very simple. Turns out, not so much. Several of our cups collapsed, so while they watched a movie, I made them again in paper cups and they worked much, much better. Afterward, we went to the grocery and bought flowers and a few other items we needed. I wised up this year (live and learn) and bought most of the groceries the day before. We did go to the Amish market so they could pick out tomatoes. They did a stellar job; the tomatoes were delicious.
When we got home, we had lunch and then they arranged the flowers, set the table, chopped tomatoes, helped cook the meat and helped make baked meringues. By this time, I was so exhausted with their help that I turned a movie on for them and finished up the other details of dinner.
At each place was a laminated (how did I live happily before now without a laminator?)menu card/world's largest bookmark, a small pencil and a sheet to mark what each person wanted on their taco. We had beef, chicken, tomatoes, lettuce, sweet peppers, jalapeno peppers, cheese, sour cream, ranch dressing and black beans. For appetizers, we had guacamole, salsa, chips and virgin margaritas. I still can't believe I failed to get a picture of one of the margaritas. First of all, they were delicious and they were quite festive with a fancy straw, umbrella, lime slice, and the cup rimmed with turbinado sugar. Yummy! Everybody seemed to enjoy them.
Finally, the boys called everyone to the table. Chaos ensued as they took the order sheets and I tried to fix the tacos, but finally everyone was served and the boys led this blessing: "Full of joy and thankfulness, we say 'Thank you, Lord' from the bottom of our hearts. We look at the food prepared by loving hands, we look into the faces of those that love us and those who we love in return and we look to You, our Lord and Savior. All good gifts around us are sent from heaven above, and we will never forget who is our true provider. We thank you as you bless this food and bless this time together. Amen" Having a prayer written out for them helped them feel more confident in leading it. I think Fizzy might have shed a tear or two.
After dinner, the boys cleared the table and dessert was served. There were options....crème brulee, chocolate cups with caramel cookie crunch gelato, and baked meringues. They most loved serving the crème brulee because they got to torch the top. I loved that Marshall told Max he wanted "extra crunch" on his, knowing the more Max could torch the better. I was really impressed with the expertise they showed in torching, and they only needed a little help blowing out flaming sugar. Dinner was declared a success. Mellie collapsed...like, almost literally.
Day 2
Oh, glorious day. My nephew, Cole is house/dog sitting where there is a pool. I invited us to come spend the day. Cole is very gracious, so he would say I didn't exactly invite us, but I sort of did. We arrived at the pool around 10:15. I jokingly told Fizzy when he called to be sure I had put sunscreen on the boys (whatever) that Cole didn't know it, but I was planning on staying until 3:00. Cole laughed, assured me he was just hanging at the pool all day and I could stay as long as I wanted. I think we left around 4:15. It was a great day!!
Nunny came and hung out. Do'Do' came and helped Max practice diving off the board. He did not perfect it, but he got better and better with each try, but the main thing was, he never gave up. Simeon loved going off the board, although diving was not on his agenda. So, day 2 was peaceful, with a few little bumps in the road, but all-in-all it was a most relaxing and pleasant day. We came home, boys showered, I scrambled eggs, fried sausage and made toast. Simmy stayed to eat and Violet joined us too. I could enjoy another day just like that one.
Day 3
I think we all sort of started this day with a bit of dread. I know for sure that Max and I did. Simmy sort of takes life in stride, but Max marks moments, and he has all the feels about them. It was the last day of camp. Have I mentioned that I'm sad about that? Now, all my grandparent friends whose grandchildren live out of town, you can smack me when you see me for being such a big baby. I can only imagine how hard it is for y'all when you leave their homes or they yours after a visit. God bless you all.
We got off to a late start this morning because Mellie had a visitation to attend. As soon as Max arrived, we went to get Sim. Our first stop was the state museum. It is amazing. We only saw part of it, and I'm learning that Max is not as big a fan of formal museums as Simmy. While we were there watching a movie on Tennessee in the Civil War, a group of mentally challenged adults came and sat with us. I don't know where those who "supervise" were, but one of them, a rather large man, standing and rocking back and forth was inappropriately touching himself and then revealing his bare belly. It was very disconcerting. Simmy was engrossed in the movie and Max was looking at a display right by where we were sitting, so I don't think either of them noticed, but I was a bit dismayed by the whole thing. When the movie ended, we hastily left that area and perused a bit more of the museum then, of course, headed to the gift shop. I had already told them that, because it was our last day of this summer, I would buy them each a $10 or less souvenir at the museum. After much hemming and hawing, they ended up with a game of marbles, a game of tiddly winks, and a stuffed fox for Violet. Both seemed very happy with their purchases.
The museum was followed by our second annual lunch at the Hermitage Hotel. Service was much faster today than last year. Other than a napkin picked up off the floor a gazillion times, and one chin removed from a plate more times than that, they did very well. We had quite the lovely lunch together. It had been requested earlier that we get dessert at Cheesecake Factory following lunch because The Hermitage Hotel's desserts are not to our liking. So, we drove to Cheesecake Factory where the wait time was quite long, so we ordered one piece of cheesecake for Simmy to go with the promise of Mango Sorbet for Max when we got home. We had a near disaster when Mellie came to an abrupt halt in the driveway and the cheesecake went flying. Fortunately, only the whipped cream was damaged, well, and since we were in Fizzy's car, his umbrella has quite a bit of whipped cream on it, but it'll wash off next time he uses it.
A rousing game of Tiddly Winks and Max's dad picked him up early. Max never wants to go, but I teasingly told him it was all his fault because he's so fun to be with and his dad really wanted to spend time with him. That is exactly why Marshall picked him up. Sim and I played a few games of marbles before his dad collected him.
I failed in the picture-taking this week. We didn't write in journals. We didn't do our exploding artwork. But, Lord willing, we will have other days for other activities. While I learned as a mom that having children is like having your heart walking around outside your body, until I experienced it, I never quite understood what grandchildren can do to you. I know life will get in a routine when school starts. Right now, however, I'll just dwell in this bittersweet moment.
As always, I explain these camp blogs are written so the boys and I can remember. I know they are tedious.
How has this summer gone by so quickly? It's Thursday afternoon as I write this and the boys left about an hour early today. I needed the time, but I feel a little sick inside that our second year of Mellie's Summer Camp of Excellence is over. Time...hard to comprehend.
Tuesday was a busy, busy day. It was our second annual cook-for-the-parents night. The first thing we did was make our crème brulee so that it would have time to cook and cool. While it was cooking, they made chocolate bowls. I bought all the right supplies for that including silicone cups. They were supposed to make popping the chocolate cups out so very simple. Turns out, not so much. Several of our cups collapsed, so while they watched a movie, I made them again in paper cups and they worked much, much better. Afterward, we went to the grocery and bought flowers and a few other items we needed. I wised up this year (live and learn) and bought most of the groceries the day before. We did go to the Amish market so they could pick out tomatoes. They did a stellar job; the tomatoes were delicious.
When we got home, we had lunch and then they arranged the flowers, set the table, chopped tomatoes, helped cook the meat and helped make baked meringues. By this time, I was so exhausted with their help that I turned a movie on for them and finished up the other details of dinner.
At each place was a laminated (how did I live happily before now without a laminator?)menu card/world's largest bookmark, a small pencil and a sheet to mark what each person wanted on their taco. We had beef, chicken, tomatoes, lettuce, sweet peppers, jalapeno peppers, cheese, sour cream, ranch dressing and black beans. For appetizers, we had guacamole, salsa, chips and virgin margaritas. I still can't believe I failed to get a picture of one of the margaritas. First of all, they were delicious and they were quite festive with a fancy straw, umbrella, lime slice, and the cup rimmed with turbinado sugar. Yummy! Everybody seemed to enjoy them.
Finally, the boys called everyone to the table. Chaos ensued as they took the order sheets and I tried to fix the tacos, but finally everyone was served and the boys led this blessing: "Full of joy and thankfulness, we say 'Thank you, Lord' from the bottom of our hearts. We look at the food prepared by loving hands, we look into the faces of those that love us and those who we love in return and we look to You, our Lord and Savior. All good gifts around us are sent from heaven above, and we will never forget who is our true provider. We thank you as you bless this food and bless this time together. Amen" Having a prayer written out for them helped them feel more confident in leading it. I think Fizzy might have shed a tear or two.
After dinner, the boys cleared the table and dessert was served. There were options....crème brulee, chocolate cups with caramel cookie crunch gelato, and baked meringues. They most loved serving the crème brulee because they got to torch the top. I loved that Marshall told Max he wanted "extra crunch" on his, knowing the more Max could torch the better. I was really impressed with the expertise they showed in torching, and they only needed a little help blowing out flaming sugar. Dinner was declared a success. Mellie collapsed...like, almost literally.
Day 2
Oh, glorious day. My nephew, Cole is house/dog sitting where there is a pool. I invited us to come spend the day. Cole is very gracious, so he would say I didn't exactly invite us, but I sort of did. We arrived at the pool around 10:15. I jokingly told Fizzy when he called to be sure I had put sunscreen on the boys (whatever) that Cole didn't know it, but I was planning on staying until 3:00. Cole laughed, assured me he was just hanging at the pool all day and I could stay as long as I wanted. I think we left around 4:15. It was a great day!!
Nunny came and hung out. Do'Do' came and helped Max practice diving off the board. He did not perfect it, but he got better and better with each try, but the main thing was, he never gave up. Simeon loved going off the board, although diving was not on his agenda. So, day 2 was peaceful, with a few little bumps in the road, but all-in-all it was a most relaxing and pleasant day. We came home, boys showered, I scrambled eggs, fried sausage and made toast. Simmy stayed to eat and Violet joined us too. I could enjoy another day just like that one.
Day 3
I think we all sort of started this day with a bit of dread. I know for sure that Max and I did. Simmy sort of takes life in stride, but Max marks moments, and he has all the feels about them. It was the last day of camp. Have I mentioned that I'm sad about that? Now, all my grandparent friends whose grandchildren live out of town, you can smack me when you see me for being such a big baby. I can only imagine how hard it is for y'all when you leave their homes or they yours after a visit. God bless you all.
We got off to a late start this morning because Mellie had a visitation to attend. As soon as Max arrived, we went to get Sim. Our first stop was the state museum. It is amazing. We only saw part of it, and I'm learning that Max is not as big a fan of formal museums as Simmy. While we were there watching a movie on Tennessee in the Civil War, a group of mentally challenged adults came and sat with us. I don't know where those who "supervise" were, but one of them, a rather large man, standing and rocking back and forth was inappropriately touching himself and then revealing his bare belly. It was very disconcerting. Simmy was engrossed in the movie and Max was looking at a display right by where we were sitting, so I don't think either of them noticed, but I was a bit dismayed by the whole thing. When the movie ended, we hastily left that area and perused a bit more of the museum then, of course, headed to the gift shop. I had already told them that, because it was our last day of this summer, I would buy them each a $10 or less souvenir at the museum. After much hemming and hawing, they ended up with a game of marbles, a game of tiddly winks, and a stuffed fox for Violet. Both seemed very happy with their purchases.
The museum was followed by our second annual lunch at the Hermitage Hotel. Service was much faster today than last year. Other than a napkin picked up off the floor a gazillion times, and one chin removed from a plate more times than that, they did very well. We had quite the lovely lunch together. It had been requested earlier that we get dessert at Cheesecake Factory following lunch because The Hermitage Hotel's desserts are not to our liking. So, we drove to Cheesecake Factory where the wait time was quite long, so we ordered one piece of cheesecake for Simmy to go with the promise of Mango Sorbet for Max when we got home. We had a near disaster when Mellie came to an abrupt halt in the driveway and the cheesecake went flying. Fortunately, only the whipped cream was damaged, well, and since we were in Fizzy's car, his umbrella has quite a bit of whipped cream on it, but it'll wash off next time he uses it.
A rousing game of Tiddly Winks and Max's dad picked him up early. Max never wants to go, but I teasingly told him it was all his fault because he's so fun to be with and his dad really wanted to spend time with him. That is exactly why Marshall picked him up. Sim and I played a few games of marbles before his dad collected him.
I failed in the picture-taking this week. We didn't write in journals. We didn't do our exploding artwork. But, Lord willing, we will have other days for other activities. While I learned as a mom that having children is like having your heart walking around outside your body, until I experienced it, I never quite understood what grandchildren can do to you. I know life will get in a routine when school starts. Right now, however, I'll just dwell in this bittersweet moment.
Thursday, July 11, 2019
Week 3 ~ Service Week
It occurred to me that, perhaps, we all needed to do a little something for someone else, thus Service Week was born. It proved to be a good week at Mellie Camp. Again, I write these blogs to document camp for the boys, of course, my sharing it on FB belies my protests of understanding if you don't read it. Such a conundrum, or is it hypocrisy?
Day 1
Today, we decided to make lunches for those who are experiencing homelessness, but our first service project was to make the bed, then write cards for Fizzy. Fizzy is definitely a wonderful model of servant leadership in this family and deserves to be honored. One note said, "Fizzy I love you," and the other said, "we made your beb. I love you." Is there anything more precious than handwritten messages from one's grandchildren? Our next act of service was to replace the flapper in Fizzy's toilet. I explained about turning the water off at the wall, what a flapper does, how the chain needs to be the right length and presto, no more running toilet. Later in the day, when one sweet little granddaughter felt the need to use most of a roll of toilet paper to take care of her needs, it was Mellie to the rescue again with my handy plunger.
Then, we went to the store to buy supplies for our lunches. It was decided that we would make 6 and each boy could deliver 3. I was very concerned about fixing sandwiches made with meat and cheese and mayonnaise, so we did what I don't really like to do when I am fixing meals for those in need, and that is make peanut butter sandwiches. I figured the humbleness of PB&J would be better received than a sandwich which provided ptomaine poisoning. Nobody wants that.
Each boy got to pick the kind of chips, dessert, and drink that would go in the lunch and we also got fresh cherries and grapes. One of my sweet boys has great difficulty in making decisions and so we stood in the refrigerated section of the store for as long as I could stand as he pondered which kind of lemonade he wanted...for himself. Finally, I told him I was counting to 30 (I know, right? Why not 5?) and if he had not made a decision, I would make it for him. At 29 he decided, I returned the one not chosen to the refrigerator and he immediately began to moan that he had made the wrong choice. "Tough luck" was the most loving response I could come up with at that moment.
Finally, back home to put the lunches together. One little guy was struggling a bit pulling himself back together, but he did and enthusiastically packed his 3 lunches. I had each boy write a note to put in each lunch. I don't know what they ended up writing, but one boy on the first one wrote, "bless you, Bob," and I made him redo it. He was incensed that I was not planning on driving around until we found a man named Bob who needed a lunch.
Finding the first few folks was not terribly difficult, even in the heart of Green Hills. We delivered 5 of the meals, were growing weary of being in the car and so came home where one boy and I split the lunch we did not deliver. It was a pretty good PB&J with orange marmalade on it. I hope those who received a lunch thought so too.
We came home, ate lunch, did some art projects, one of which did not go well with one boy climbing under the table declaring himself a failure at art. I assured him it was a process, but he's more the type that wants to be at step 15 without working through steps 1-14. I understand that. 30 minutes of quiet time, where I may or may not have set the timer for 40 minutes instead. I didn't realize that 7 year olds had such a refined sense of timing and I did get a bit tickled when Simmy was convinced that something was wrong with the timer. I, perhaps, was not as forthcoming as I should have been about my duplicity, but I was reading a good book and I was tired!
Both boys and Violet ended up staying for supper, which, let me just say, was so awful that Fizzy suggested that I not even make an effort for Wednesday night. I eagerly took him up on that offer. I can do nothing for dinner quite easily. By the time everyone left, I was ready to hit the sofa with my good book. It was a good day.
Day 2
For the second year in a row, we restocked the pews at church. We talked a lot about how sometimes children don't realize how they can contribute to their church family, but that, in fact, they have much to offer. We stocked pews last year, and this year went a bit more smoothly. We stopped at Fresh Market to get snacks to fortify us after stocking the balcony. Once again, we went through which drink to buy. I am happy to report that a decision was made in a timely fashion with no buyer's remorse following. The snack was a bit trickier, so I gave him 2 options, he chose one and seemed quite happy with the decision. Progress!!
We arrived at church and visited a moment with "Miss" Nancy then hustled to the sanctuary to put out pens, cards, and to clean out the book racks. Let me just say, that balcony-sitters, are a good deal messier than those who sit downstairs. Balcony finished, or so I thought, and downstairs to have the snacks and hit the sanctuary. Max got himself a system which worked quite nicely. Simeon was putting the cards in the card racks and decided that he would shout each time he saw where a pen was needed. Nevermind that Max was on the other side of the room placing pens and would eventually get to it. If Simmy yelled "here!" once he yelled it 500 times. As we were finishing up, Max looked upstairs and said, "Melly, we only did one of the decks upstairs." What foolishness was this? Oh, shoot, he was right. So, back upstairs we went. The entire time boys wanted to know if they could drop pens off the balcony downstairs. I capitulated, because I, myself, wondered how far they could throw pens. I let them each throw one pen off the balcony as far as they could. Both boys were convinced that theirs made it to the stage. I have my doubts, but I was getting weary. Do you see a theme here. They asked if they could play tag in the sanctuary, I said, "yes, if you stay off the stage." About 5 minutes into the game, one ran up on the stage and did not come down immediately, so I declared it time to leave.
We went home to have lunch where our conversation took some turns. First of all, Max wanted to know how church family has ever helped him. I said that his church family prayed for him when he had his eye surgery and he was prayed for constantly when he was born. We talked about how he had to stay in the hospital because of complications. He wanted to know if Simmy had taken so long to be born and I said, '"no, Simmy came in a big hurry." Max expressed how Simmy burst how of his mama's belly and I just smiled. Let him think what he will, but Simeon asked THE question..."how do babies get out?" I'm not sure I've ever been so eager to play the grandmother card and replied, "that's something it's best for your parents to share with you." Yes, score one for grandparent deflection. Then, Max wanted to know what I think happens when someone dies. I told him that I was not sure exactly, but that I do believe we go into the presence of God, while I might not know exactly what that would be like. Simmy then relayed a story that Fizzy had told about someone who recently spoke at a conference about his near-death experience. It was a beautiful depiction of the peace I anticipate when the time comes for my departure. So, all in all, it was quite the deep lunch conversation.
Afterwards, we had a true 30 minute quiet/reading time, followed by making yarn dolls and charm necklaces.
Day 3
Today was flower-delivery day. We did this last year. It is more an act of kindness service to celebrate the boys turning 7. I try to do this each year, though I have fallen short a couple years. We had already bought vases at $Tree, so we were off to Trader Joe's to buy flowers. I gave them the limit of what they could spend and both boys picked out lovely bouquets. Because my house was being cleaned, I did not want to go home to fix the vases, so we arranged the flowers in the back of the car. Each vase had a note tied on it that said, "My name is (Simeon, Max). I turned 7 in the spring. I am doing acts of kindness to celebrate that birthday. I hope these flowers bless your day." Our first stop was the Daily's in Green Hills. One of the ladies we gave flowers to had received flowers from Max last year. She was so moved and told him that she had saved one of the roses. Isn't that so sweet? She had pressed and saved the rose. I explained to the boys that not everyone has a husband or child or grandchild to bring them flowers, and they may not have the extra money to go buy them for themselves. Most people like flowers.
Next we went to the Purple Cow. The cashier there was just basically overwhelmed and offered two or three times to pay Simeon for the flowers. Each time, he told her that he did not want money, he just wanted her to enjoy the flowers. Next we went to the Brentwood CVS because soon this will be the home clinic for Simmy's mom as a nurse practitioner. We decided that we would give flowers to the NP working today. Max, first of all gave flowers to the cashier in the front. She was stunned. He's a little shyer and I had to explain what was going on. She just had a big smile on her face. Then we went back to the Minute Clinic to see if the nurse on duty had a patient where we found a waiting patient vomiting in the trashcan outside the examining room. I immediately hustled the boys away from there. We found another cashier and gave her flowers as well. Flowers to someone taking orders at Chick-fil-a where we might have revived ourselves with frosted lemonades and then to the Urgent Care clinic where we gave out last two arrangements away.
We came home, filled water balloons...lots of water balloons and the boys proceeded to throw many of them up on the roof. Why? I don't know. But they had fun, got soaking wet, came in, put on pajamas, made things with melty beads. We ordered pizza, had lunch, made more melty bead things and started watching a movie. Parents came early to get them and now Fizzy and Mellie are going out to dinner...because, you know, Tuesday night's dinner.
It was a good week. I hope they learned a little of the importance of serving others and gained some pleasure in seeing the joy in people's faces as they surprised them with an unexpected kindness.
Day 1
Today, we decided to make lunches for those who are experiencing homelessness, but our first service project was to make the bed, then write cards for Fizzy. Fizzy is definitely a wonderful model of servant leadership in this family and deserves to be honored. One note said, "Fizzy I love you," and the other said, "we made your beb. I love you." Is there anything more precious than handwritten messages from one's grandchildren? Our next act of service was to replace the flapper in Fizzy's toilet. I explained about turning the water off at the wall, what a flapper does, how the chain needs to be the right length and presto, no more running toilet. Later in the day, when one sweet little granddaughter felt the need to use most of a roll of toilet paper to take care of her needs, it was Mellie to the rescue again with my handy plunger.
Then, we went to the store to buy supplies for our lunches. It was decided that we would make 6 and each boy could deliver 3. I was very concerned about fixing sandwiches made with meat and cheese and mayonnaise, so we did what I don't really like to do when I am fixing meals for those in need, and that is make peanut butter sandwiches. I figured the humbleness of PB&J would be better received than a sandwich which provided ptomaine poisoning. Nobody wants that.
Each boy got to pick the kind of chips, dessert, and drink that would go in the lunch and we also got fresh cherries and grapes. One of my sweet boys has great difficulty in making decisions and so we stood in the refrigerated section of the store for as long as I could stand as he pondered which kind of lemonade he wanted...for himself. Finally, I told him I was counting to 30 (I know, right? Why not 5?) and if he had not made a decision, I would make it for him. At 29 he decided, I returned the one not chosen to the refrigerator and he immediately began to moan that he had made the wrong choice. "Tough luck" was the most loving response I could come up with at that moment.
Finally, back home to put the lunches together. One little guy was struggling a bit pulling himself back together, but he did and enthusiastically packed his 3 lunches. I had each boy write a note to put in each lunch. I don't know what they ended up writing, but one boy on the first one wrote, "bless you, Bob," and I made him redo it. He was incensed that I was not planning on driving around until we found a man named Bob who needed a lunch.
Finding the first few folks was not terribly difficult, even in the heart of Green Hills. We delivered 5 of the meals, were growing weary of being in the car and so came home where one boy and I split the lunch we did not deliver. It was a pretty good PB&J with orange marmalade on it. I hope those who received a lunch thought so too.
We came home, ate lunch, did some art projects, one of which did not go well with one boy climbing under the table declaring himself a failure at art. I assured him it was a process, but he's more the type that wants to be at step 15 without working through steps 1-14. I understand that. 30 minutes of quiet time, where I may or may not have set the timer for 40 minutes instead. I didn't realize that 7 year olds had such a refined sense of timing and I did get a bit tickled when Simmy was convinced that something was wrong with the timer. I, perhaps, was not as forthcoming as I should have been about my duplicity, but I was reading a good book and I was tired!
Both boys and Violet ended up staying for supper, which, let me just say, was so awful that Fizzy suggested that I not even make an effort for Wednesday night. I eagerly took him up on that offer. I can do nothing for dinner quite easily. By the time everyone left, I was ready to hit the sofa with my good book. It was a good day.
Day 2
For the second year in a row, we restocked the pews at church. We talked a lot about how sometimes children don't realize how they can contribute to their church family, but that, in fact, they have much to offer. We stocked pews last year, and this year went a bit more smoothly. We stopped at Fresh Market to get snacks to fortify us after stocking the balcony. Once again, we went through which drink to buy. I am happy to report that a decision was made in a timely fashion with no buyer's remorse following. The snack was a bit trickier, so I gave him 2 options, he chose one and seemed quite happy with the decision. Progress!!
We arrived at church and visited a moment with "Miss" Nancy then hustled to the sanctuary to put out pens, cards, and to clean out the book racks. Let me just say, that balcony-sitters, are a good deal messier than those who sit downstairs. Balcony finished, or so I thought, and downstairs to have the snacks and hit the sanctuary. Max got himself a system which worked quite nicely. Simeon was putting the cards in the card racks and decided that he would shout each time he saw where a pen was needed. Nevermind that Max was on the other side of the room placing pens and would eventually get to it. If Simmy yelled "here!" once he yelled it 500 times. As we were finishing up, Max looked upstairs and said, "Melly, we only did one of the decks upstairs." What foolishness was this? Oh, shoot, he was right. So, back upstairs we went. The entire time boys wanted to know if they could drop pens off the balcony downstairs. I capitulated, because I, myself, wondered how far they could throw pens. I let them each throw one pen off the balcony as far as they could. Both boys were convinced that theirs made it to the stage. I have my doubts, but I was getting weary. Do you see a theme here. They asked if they could play tag in the sanctuary, I said, "yes, if you stay off the stage." About 5 minutes into the game, one ran up on the stage and did not come down immediately, so I declared it time to leave.
We went home to have lunch where our conversation took some turns. First of all, Max wanted to know how church family has ever helped him. I said that his church family prayed for him when he had his eye surgery and he was prayed for constantly when he was born. We talked about how he had to stay in the hospital because of complications. He wanted to know if Simmy had taken so long to be born and I said, '"no, Simmy came in a big hurry." Max expressed how Simmy burst how of his mama's belly and I just smiled. Let him think what he will, but Simeon asked THE question..."how do babies get out?" I'm not sure I've ever been so eager to play the grandmother card and replied, "that's something it's best for your parents to share with you." Yes, score one for grandparent deflection. Then, Max wanted to know what I think happens when someone dies. I told him that I was not sure exactly, but that I do believe we go into the presence of God, while I might not know exactly what that would be like. Simmy then relayed a story that Fizzy had told about someone who recently spoke at a conference about his near-death experience. It was a beautiful depiction of the peace I anticipate when the time comes for my departure. So, all in all, it was quite the deep lunch conversation.
Afterwards, we had a true 30 minute quiet/reading time, followed by making yarn dolls and charm necklaces.
Day 3
Today was flower-delivery day. We did this last year. It is more an act of kindness service to celebrate the boys turning 7. I try to do this each year, though I have fallen short a couple years. We had already bought vases at $Tree, so we were off to Trader Joe's to buy flowers. I gave them the limit of what they could spend and both boys picked out lovely bouquets. Because my house was being cleaned, I did not want to go home to fix the vases, so we arranged the flowers in the back of the car. Each vase had a note tied on it that said, "My name is (Simeon, Max). I turned 7 in the spring. I am doing acts of kindness to celebrate that birthday. I hope these flowers bless your day." Our first stop was the Daily's in Green Hills. One of the ladies we gave flowers to had received flowers from Max last year. She was so moved and told him that she had saved one of the roses. Isn't that so sweet? She had pressed and saved the rose. I explained to the boys that not everyone has a husband or child or grandchild to bring them flowers, and they may not have the extra money to go buy them for themselves. Most people like flowers.
Next we went to the Purple Cow. The cashier there was just basically overwhelmed and offered two or three times to pay Simeon for the flowers. Each time, he told her that he did not want money, he just wanted her to enjoy the flowers. Next we went to the Brentwood CVS because soon this will be the home clinic for Simmy's mom as a nurse practitioner. We decided that we would give flowers to the NP working today. Max, first of all gave flowers to the cashier in the front. She was stunned. He's a little shyer and I had to explain what was going on. She just had a big smile on her face. Then we went back to the Minute Clinic to see if the nurse on duty had a patient where we found a waiting patient vomiting in the trashcan outside the examining room. I immediately hustled the boys away from there. We found another cashier and gave her flowers as well. Flowers to someone taking orders at Chick-fil-a where we might have revived ourselves with frosted lemonades and then to the Urgent Care clinic where we gave out last two arrangements away.
We came home, filled water balloons...lots of water balloons and the boys proceeded to throw many of them up on the roof. Why? I don't know. But they had fun, got soaking wet, came in, put on pajamas, made things with melty beads. We ordered pizza, had lunch, made more melty bead things and started watching a movie. Parents came early to get them and now Fizzy and Mellie are going out to dinner...because, you know, Tuesday night's dinner.
It was a good week. I hope they learned a little of the importance of serving others and gained some pleasure in seeing the joy in people's faces as they surprised them with an unexpected kindness.
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