A Letter to my Daddy

In thinking about lambs, I remembered an email that I wrote to my dad in October 2005. So this post is in honor of my Daddy, the kind of man and father I hope my boys will grow up to be some day.
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Dear Daddy,
It's late October, and the weather is chilly and rainy right now. Do you know what I am thinking about? The State Fair. It seemed like every other year it was cold and rainy at the State Fair. On the off years, it was hot and muggy. The weather never cooperated that I recall.

It's been 15 years since I last showed any 4-H lambs ...but I can still smell that livestock barn. I can still hear all those lambs and pigs and people milling about in the dim light. I can picture those washing pens and practically feel how cold my hands would get while washing those lambs. Oh, and I can smell Wool-lite ...I still laugh when I think about us washing our lambs in Wool-lite! I guess in a round about way it makes perfect sense, but it also seems so silly to think about using an expensive laundry soap on a bunch of stinky sheep! To this day I cannot wash clothes in Wool-lite because the smell reminds me of sheep!

I remember having to wake up well before it was light outside to go take care of those sheep. The city was still sleeping, but the show barn was already buzzing with activity even at that early hour. I also remember how you would always treat us to donuts (Shipley donuts, if I remember correctly) at least one morning while we were at the State Fair. Donuts and hot chocolate before dawn ...was there ever a better breakfast?

I thought about that crazy out-of-control lamb that the Crawford girl had to show for me ...you remember the very lamb that bucked and kicked and knocked me down in the ring. I was only 9 and it was my first year to show. She was much older and more experienced than me, and for some reason took pity upon my situation. I remember her switching lambs with me, probably so that I wouldn't get dragged from the ring by the insane lamb. Oddly enough, the lamb placed 3rd in it's division, so we had to go have a picture taken. The crazy thing literally tore up the picture area, kicking up sawdust everywhere and knocking over plants. It probably came as close as a lamb can get to destroying a professional photographer's camera without actually doing it. We laugh about how scared I look in the photo, but is there any wonder as to why?!

Do you remember the lamb that tried to eat an entire bag of feed and had to have his stomach pumped by the State Fair vet? Or the lamb that got away and we had to chase it all over the livestock barn. I'll bet there were 30 grown men involved in the chase before we managed to get that lamb cornered! I thought about how those lambs seemed like such a burden to care for throughout the summer and fall, but when it came time to sell them or butcher them and say goodbye I always cried.

I also recall how you would always walk each of us to the show ring when it was time for our class of lambs to be judged. My stomach was nearly always in a ball of anxious knots. But you walked with us every step of the way, from the pens to the show ring gate. Most of the time, you would even lead the lamb on the halter ...never actually passing the lamb over to us until it was time for us to enter the ring. During the show, you were always ring-side, offering soft words of advice if we needed it or cheering us on with big grins. I remember how you were always standing just outside the ring gate when we came back out of the ring, with encouraging words and smiles ... not matter how badly we might have placed. There was comfort in that because we could trust that every time you were going to be right there.

I just wanted you to know that not only do I remember all of these things, but I treasure them in my heart. I appreciate so much more now what you were trying to share with us then. Thank you for giving me a lifetime of love and memories.

I love you.
Paige

Counting Sheep

Not long ago, my father came across an advertisement in a country-living magazine for "miniature babydoll southdown lambs." The ad caught his attention because he used to show southdown lambs when he was in 4-H back in the late 50's and early 60's.

My dad loved showing his lambs. I've seen the pictures of his Southdown sheep ... short and woolly. They looked so cuddly compared to the long, lanky, goaty look of the Suffolk sheep I showed when I was a 4-H member.

We talked, my dad and I ... we remembered lambs and showing and the work involved taking care of sheep. My dad wondered what a "babydoll" southdown sheep was, and we guessed that perhaps the miniature babydoll southdowns must be very tiny indeed.

My curiousity got the best of me, after that conversation. I spent an entire day researching babydoll southdowns, as well as other breeds of sheep, on the internet. I gazed at pictures of the sweet lamb faces, and found myself missing the smell of the show barn at the Louisiana state fair. I remembered shearing them and feeding them. It brought back happy memories of special moments shared with my brother and sister and father. And suddenly, I found myself wanting to give that same gift to my children.

It's such a silly idea, and yet I can't get it out of my head. What would I do with a bunch of sheep? It's not like I'd benefit from them. It would mean extra work for me and extra money to pay for their feed and vet bills. What would I do with all that wool? And as far as eating lamb goes ...well, I sobbed through many a lambchop meal as a child.


Crazy as it sounds, for the past two weeks, I've been dreaming of owning a flock of sheep ... a small flock of just 6 or 7 sheep. It's a pipe-dream, I suppose, but perhaps one day it will become reality. Until then, I'm counting sheep when I sleep.

Paper or Plastic? Neither!

What's wrong with plastic bags? Lots. Every year, nearly one trillion plastic shopping and grocery bags are used around the world. The vast majority are sent to a landfill. They often wind up as litter. They drift into oceans and rivers and kill fish. They can take 1,000 years to decompose. And every time we use a plastic bag, we drive up the demand for oil - which is used to make plastics.

I guess I'm more "green" than I really knew because all of this truly bothers me. For years, I have had boxes and boxes of plastic bags saved from previous shopping trips. I try to line our smaller trash cans with them, or find other purposes. But still, I end up with far too many plastic baggies just hanging out at my house, waiting to end up in the landfill where they will still be sitting long after my great-great-great-great-great-grandchildren have passed from this earth.

But there is a solution: Reusable bags!

Reusable bags are sold everywhere, and estimates show that during its average five year lifetime, a reusable bag can eliminate the need for at least 100 disposable plastic bags. The bags sold at Walmart (for $1 each) are made from 85-percent-recycled content and hold more than twice the amount of an average plastic bag. At the end of their life-span, Wal-Mart will recycle the bags. (I'm not pushing Walmart bags ... I just know more about these particular bags since this is the brand I purchased. Really, any reusable bag is a better option than plastic or paper.)

I began purchasing my bags this past spring. On each trip to Walmart, I'd buy one or two. Now I have about 20 or so of these bags, which is more than enough to pack up all of my purchases when I go shopping. The Walmart bags that I use really do hold an amazing amount of items. I also have found that the bags stand up better in the back of my vehicle, instead of flopping around all over the place like the plastic ones always did.

It's not too inconvenient at all. I just keep the unused bags stored in the packing area of my minivan. Then whenever I shop (whether it is walmart, the local grocery or some other store), I grab a bag (or two or 20) before heading into the store.
I have to admit that sometimes the checkers don't like me bringing bags for them to use. (Oddly enough, Walmart checkers are the worst.) However, I figure the benefits of using my reusable bags far outweight the glaring stares.

I hope that you will consider doing our earth a favor by saying no to both plastic and paper, and yes to resuable bags. It doesn't matter if you choose the bags Walmart sells or some other resuable bag. Just do it ...

Changing the Heart of a Pharisee

Lately I've been wondering if I make a good Pharisee. It's not at all who I want to be, but I do wonder if perhaps it may be who I actually am.



In my quest for a deeper relationship with Christ, I often find myself striving to check off things as if just doing them will bring me extra favor with God.

Daily Bible reading ... check.
Prayed for others ... check.
Thanked God for something ... check.
Prayed before my meals ... check.
Read a Bible story with the kids ... check.
Listened to Christian music ... check.

I find that often I am judgemental of others, comparing my own checklist to their checklist. If I sense that the other person has more items checked, then I begin to scramble to figure out how I can add more to my own checklist of things to do. After all, the more I do, the more God loves me ... right? And if others aren't meeting up to my standards (because, after all, it is my attitudes and standards that I'm so diligently enforcing), then they can't possibly be as good as me. :(

Truly, this attitude of mine is such a backwards way of looking at things! It makes me sad to realize that so often I treat God this way. How can I possibly win His favor? I don't deserve it ... never have and never will. Amazingly, God simply chooses to bestow His lavish mercy upon me.

Lord, break my heart. Mold me to your ways. Please ... help me to change my pharisee attitudes and give me a heart that mirrors You so that when others look at me they are looking at You. Amen.

Thoughts on growing up

I spent the week away from my kids, and when I returned it seemed that Joel had shot up another 2 inches. He just looked so tall and lanky. He sat down next to me and we actually had a conversation ... you know, one of those give and take conversations that you might have with a friend. I wondered who this child was ... that boy who sat there next to me on the sofa, talking about making movies and writing scripts and dreaming of his future. It's so strange to think that not-so-very long ago, this same boy was my tiny first-born baby. I remember his small baby hands curled tightly around my finger, and I recall how it felt to rock that precious baby in my arms.

When I came home yesterday, I noticed that Nathan's two front teeth have grown in quite nicely. It's hard to even tell that they are shorter than his other teeth for the new front teeth fit so nicely in his mouth. And yet, I miss that snaggle-toothed grin already! He wore his new LSU baseball cap today, and it gave him such a "big boy" look. I felt that I hardly recognized him, even though his blond hair and dimpled cheeks are as familiar to me as ever. In the not-so-distant past, I remember that smiley baby boy with the pudgy thighs and the ready laugh ... how I loved to feel his head snuggled on my shoulder as I sang him to sleep. Tonight, as I kissed him goodnight, he told me that he wished he was ten years old. He said that growing up took too long and sometimes he thought he would never be ten. I didn't tell him, but ten is coming far too fast for me!

And Julia ... little Julia. This afternoon she asked me if a baby can stay a baby forever. When I answered that all babies eventually grow up, she cried big tears that left a large damp place on my shoulder. As she wiped her tears away with a sniffle, she said that she didn't want to go to college or get married or ever grow up at all. She just wants to live with me forever and always be my little girl. I rocked her for the longest time, smoothing her hair and kissing her cheek and cherishing the moments holding her again as those moments are growing farther and farther apart. I know that on some future day not too far away, I'll remember the little girl standing on the stool next to me as I cooked. And I'll miss those precious times, just as much as I wish that it wasn't a requirement for babies to grow up.

Oh, yes ... my kids are growing up, and tonight I wish it wasn't so. A thousand days must have quietly slipped passed while they were so small. I remember them well ... diapers, snacks, sippy cups, laundry, meals, picking up toys, and more diapers, snacks and sippy cups in a seemingly never-ending cycle. Somehow it felt like those tiny people would never be tall enough to reach the sink or fix their own sandwich. And then today it hit me when I woke from a 2 1/2 hour nap that no one needed me during that time. No one asked me for a drink because everyone can do that for themselves. No one woke me up to get me to put on their favorite movie because everyone knows how to work the DVD player. No one needed help going to the potty or getting a snack. And while I know that I am still very much needed by my children and that in many ways the most important part of parenting still lies ahead, I realized today just how much my babies have grown.

Parenting is so very bittersweet. The greatest pleasure of my life has been watching my children grow and learn. I've loved watching their personalities develop. Each stage, no matter how much I detested it in the midst of it, has been missed when it has finally passed. Each milestone reached has been worth noting and celebrating. And yet, so often I find that it is hard to let go and that all I want to do is stop the clock of time from moving so darn quickly!

Tonight, with tears in my eyes, I find myself wanting to cling tightly to each day and to live fully in every moment with my children while they are children for, as I've heard said time and time again, the days are long but the years are short.

Great is Thy Faithfulness

I have been deprived of peace;
I have forgotten what prosperity is.
So I say, "My splendor is gone
and all that I had hoped from the Lord."
I remember my affliction and my wandering,
the bitterness and the gall.
I well remember them,
and my soul is downcast within me.
Yet this I call to mind
and therefore I have hope:

Because of the Lord's great love we are not consumed,
for His compassions never fail.
They are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness.

~Lamentations 3:17-23

Cardboard Testimonies

A friend shared this youtube video with me. Less than 30 seconds into watching it, I had tears streaming down my face.



My cardboard testimonies:

Born a sinner and destined to spend eternity in hell; Redeemed through Christ's infinite mercy now will spend eternity with Him.

Three years of infertility; three babies in less than three and a half years.

Loss of a marriage and a lifetime of dreams ... still trustfully waiting to see how God will bring beauty from these ashes.

The love and grace of God is overwhelming. That He would take someone like me and love me as I am is simply astounding.

I would love to know and rejoice in your cardboard testimony. I hope that if you have one that you will share it with me. If not, then I would love to have the opportunity to tell you more about the amazing grace and love of Jesus Christ.

The Dancing Queen

June 7th was a special day for J4. It was her first dance recital, and she did an outstanding job. She performed 3 routines: a ballet, a tap and the finale.

She danced so well in all 3 of her dances, but you could tell she especially had fun dancing the tap routine. It was called "Shake Your Tail Feathers." I have to admit that I was a bit worried about the title of the routine, but it turned out to be mostly just the little girls shaking a feather boa and doing "the twist." Very cute!

J4's ballet routine was called "I Dream of You." They danced with baby dolls. It was just a precious little dance number. I especially liked the pictures of J4 doing that dance routine.

The finale included all the dancers from the dancing school. J4 had a great time skipping up the center aisle and then twirling on the stage with about 60 girls. She was obviously having the time of her life.

I have to say that I think J4 was THE BEST DANCER ... however, I never took my eyes off her to even begin to see how she might compare to the others. Fortunately, everyone else seated around me (my parents, my sister, my aunt and the boys) totally agreed with me.

As for J4 ... well, she just ate up being on stage. She's never really been on stage before and I was a bit apprehensive about how she might respond to the bright lights and big crowd. She wasn't the least bit concerned about it. At the end of the finale and awards, J4 didn't want to come off the stage. And when I was trying to change her clothes, she didn't want to take off her little costume. I think she rather enjoyed her time in the limelight. After yesterday's recital, I think it is safe for me to continue to make room in the budget for J4's dance lessons.

Enjoy the pictures of my little dancer!

Pieces

It's been nearly a year since my life dramatically fell apart. Since that time, I've often thought or even said that my life was "shattered" or that I was trying to "pick up the pieces." Not an hour goes by that I don't in some way think about all those shattered pieces ... wondering if there is anyway to put all the pieces of my life back together again, so that I feel whole and useful and unbroken once more. The cracks and chips and missing parts bother me greatly, and most of the time I feel so ashamed of me in this current state.

Pieces ... that word alone goes a long, long way to describing how my life feels. It's been defining me for almost a year.

A couple of days ago I read a blog that is written by the wife of a successful Christian artist. Back in April, this woman gave birth to a stillborn baby girl. I've never been in her shoes and I pray that I never ever have to experience the tragedy of losing a child. However, I'm quite sure that her life feels shattered into a million different pieces, and I do know how it feels to look at all the broken parts and wonder if they can ever be put back together enough to be of any use again.

Her beautiful essay on be broken and shattered speaks loudly to my heart. For you see, God is picking up all the pieces and putting my life back together again, too. Each day I look at myself and see how I'm beginning to heal. I still don't like all that I see, for mostly I end up noticing the very visible cracks and imperfections. They bother me because I want to feel whole again. But amazingly God says, "My grace is sufficient for you, for power is perfected in weakness." Therefore, when I am weak, then I am strong. (2 Corinthians 12:9-10)

I encourage you to read this inspiring blog for yourself: http://audreycaroline.blogspot.com/2008/05/past-and-pitcher.html

As for me, I'm going to break a teacup, scoop up the pieces and spend some time with God ... weeping, gluing and remembering. And I'm going to be thankful for the cracks in my life because through them Christ's love is able to seep out of me and into my little corner of the world.