Would you like to see something that is just way cool? This is mainly way cool because it’s my house and my family and our chickens and our rabbit. . .thankfully Stephanie left out the snakes, tarantula, Australian White’s tree frog, and crickets (did I leave anything out?) My “art friend”, Stephanie, painted/collaged/concocted this for me, and I


I imposed on her talents several years ago when I asked her to do a portait of our newly built home. She has apologized over and over for not getting this done sooner. . .I say it was worth the wait. I entitled this “Whimsy”. . .but “Serendipity” sums it up as well since her creativity and deftness of skill composed something that was totally and unexpectedly delightful. I would continue to gush, but am afraid that my computer might go on the fritz. . .

I now have three originals from this lovely artist. . .and each one is dear to me–as is she.


Back to the Beach

Houston has gotten a bit soggy over the past few days, but we are going to go to the beach anyway. We will, hopefully, be gone for a week. . .so there will be no words (or photos–gone a bit crazy with that one lately) from me. Now it is time to do laundry and finish my ladies’ class lesson. . .both of which need to be done before we go to Galveston in less than 24 hours!!!!


I am from the south. In the south, most people call their dad/father/pappa “Daddy.” This holds true for your entire life. My father called his father “Daddy” until the day he died. My mom and aunt called their mother “Mother” and their father “Daddy.” There’s just something about a daddy.

I was lucky enough to know my mother’s Daddy and my father’s Daddy. One lived just across the pasture. . .the other five miles up the road in town. They were a wonderful part of my childhood.

We have a Daddy at our house. He has been a Daddy now for 8 years. My running joke is that he is a terrible Mommy, but a wonderful Daddy. And he is.

He wrestles in the floor with the children. He is the Tickle Monster. He lifts heavy things. He is an Eagle Scout, so camping with him (in a tent, on the ground) is actually pleasant. He knows how to use power tools. He builds things, and they do not fall down. He has brought cool/icky (depends on your point of view) pets into our home like snakes, chickens, turtles, frogs, a rabbit, and a tarantula. He does not mind getting wet or muddy or sweaty. He asks the children logic based questions to stretch their brains. . .he also makes silly noises and teases them to stretch their senses of humor. He does all of this, and he loves me. The children know that he loves me. The children know that he loves them.

I married the man I fell in love with. He was not a Daddy. He was a 20-something blond haired, thin, fraternity guy from a huge town I had never been to. He has become many things over the past 15 years I have known him. . .today we celebrated the fact that he is a Daddy. And we love him right back.


Once upon a time there were two little girls from very different places sort of. They were both born in southern towns only 25 miles apart. . .one town was down right tiny, the other seemed really large but as it turns out, it was sort of medium. One girly was brought home to a house in a neighborhood, the other to a house in the country. They were born one month and 15 days apart. One was born August 2, 19something, the other September 17th, but due to the laws of their southern state of birth, you only had to be born by December 31st to enter kindergarten. Thus their journey begins. Had they been born just one state to the west, their paths would not have been so intertwined, but God had other plans. Here they are. . .fresh-faced, snaggle toothed 1st graders. They are surrounded by other children that they would befriend, travel through grade school and jr. high and high school with. How very interesting it is to see that they are sitting next to each other. . . they had no idea.
And here they are at 16 on the dot and nearly 16, still fresh faced (if a bit shiny due to the fact that my parents had only an attic fan and this was taken on August 2, so it was a bit steamy in my room) but with relatively straight teeth.
And here they are, Seniors in high school at one of their favorite teacher’s homes. (Continue to next post. . .blogger was acting up when I was loading the photos.)

Sarah Continued. . .

These girls did lots of things together. . .

They were in plays together. . . . . . in chorus together. . .

. . .at formal events together. . . at graduation together. . .
. . .and were maid and matron of honor in each other’s weddings.

They went to the same school, loved the same people, dreamed similar dreams. . .and then high school in the medium-sized town was over, and it was time to set out on their own. So they did. One went to Abilene, Texas, the other to Searcy, Arkansas. Their roads diverged, and they went down separate paths. Their experiences were no longer as similar (although their phone bills were still as big.) It was surprising to some people who knew them that they were still close friends. Surely distance and life would cause them to drift apart. It was not surprising to them, however, that the drift never really happened.

They had made promises that they were determined to keep. So even though marriages and pregnancies and miles and responsibilities and distance and time caused them to not be together very often. . .not nearly often enough. . .they still try to make the time to see each other when they can.

And they both know that even if they never saw each other again, it would be sad, but it wouldn’t matter. Their bonds of friendship have lasted across a span of 31 years, through elementary and jr. high and high school, through separate colleges and miles and phone calls, through marriages and babies and deaths in families, through times of growth and times of lethargy, through not being close enough to each other and not being able to get far enough away from each other. These girls made promises long ago. In fact, one girl (me), remembers VERY clearly a note that the other girl (Sarah) left on her music stand (both played clarinet) at a 5th or 6th grade band recital. She asked if they could be friends forever. . .if they could promise to tell each other everything. . .and we did. . .and we have. . .and we will.

Sarah has been my best friend for a very long time. I know that as you become an adult the phrase “best friend” seems pretty childish. . .and I guess in the eyes of most of the world, we don’t ACT like best friends. We aren’t constantly calling each other or seeing each other or even planning to see each other. In fact, there are other friends that we probably talk to much, much more than we do each other. But we know this. . .God gave us this relationship as a gift. In a world where everyone wants something from you, all we have ever wanted from each other is a safe place to be when we needed it. From the ages of about 13-18 that safe place was with each other as much as we (and our parents) could stand it. During our college years that place was marathon phone calls. During early marriage and motherhood the bonds were strained due to multitudes of new responsibilities and a deplorable lack of sleep, but the bonds were never broken. And now, it’s just nice. . .nice to know there is someone who loved the way you were and who loves the way you are and who will love the way you are going to be.

So how to end this post? I’m not sure. . .except to say, “Thank you God for Sarah. Thank you for your faithfulness to us in our lives, for our families, our blessings, and for each other. Please bless our sons and daughters with friends who will be to them what we have been to each other, and thank you for guiding us along our pathway to you. . .”

I am blessed in many, many ways, and Sarah is truly a precious blessing to me.

June 12th

When people pick the day on which they will be married, it normally has little significance other than it was a convenient day to get married. Of course after the wedding, it becomes significant as the anniversary of that marriage. When I found out that I was pregnant with our second child and that the baby was due on our anniversary, I was none too happy. I knew that it would soon cease to be our anniversary and begin to be a birthday. As the weeks drifted past, however, I became more comfortable with the idea. . .and so now we have two very special things to celebrate on June 12th. . .here is a pictorial field trip.

Thirteen years ago today at 3:00 p.m. we did this. . .

Five years ago today at 10:15 p.m. we did this. . .(notice my pregnancy/delivery schnoze.)

This past Saturday we did this to celebrate what you see directly above. . .a monster truckin’ five year old boy paradise. . .

And today we did this to make it official.

We also did this since I am co-coordinator of VBS. . .(it says “Under Construction: Becoming a Tool of God”). I spent the morning sweating, running, and putting out fires. The kids spent the morning becoming tools of God. Tony spent the morning mixing Quick-Crete so the tools of God could make jewel bedecked stepping stones. . .
And it was about 3:00 before either Tony or I remotely remembered to wish each other a happy anniversary. . .

but somehow we manage to celebrate that whole anniversary milestone every day.


Well this is the only mother daughter photo that didn’t make the first cut. I think it was the one causing all of the trouble, but I will try to get it on here again just because I like it. . .it’s not too clear seeing as how I took a photo of it with our video camera, but you get the general idea.