Open Arms - by Journey

This is it! Finally.

"So now, I'll come to you with open arms.
Nothing to hide, I mean what I say.
So here I am with open arms.
Hoping you'll see, what your love means to me.
Open Arms"

"Living without you, living alone.
This empty house seems so cold.
...Wanting you near. How much I want to bring you home.

But now that you've come back, turned night into day,
I need you to stay."

I'm transferred back in time. Again, in love with Jimmy Keeton. A young girl--maybe in 7th grade. Or 8th. Junior High anyway. And in my mind I can see myself sitting at the table in the cafeteria with a group of friends and we're all talking about the best records. And someone mentions the album from Journey. On cassette.

And I realize that I can OWN the song that keeps playing in my mind.

Then I'm transferred to years and years later when I open the wallet I used in my youth. I'm an adult now. With a child. And there, stuck in a memo pad is a little note written to me from Jimmy. And I treasure it so much.

The Wedding Song

The Wedding Song
by Paul someone

"He is now to be among you, at the calling of your heart.
The union of your spirits here have caused Him to remain.
For whenever two or more of you are gathered in His name,
There is Love...."

"Well a man shall leave his mother, and a woman leave her home....
As it was in the beginning is now until the end. Woman draws her life from man, then gives it back again.
There is love."

"Well then what's to be the reason for becoming man and wife?
Is it love that brings you here, or love that brings you life?
Well, if loving is the answer, then who's the giving for?
Do you believe in something that you've never seen before? Oh, there's love!"

My sister had this song sung at her wedding. So pretty. So touching. So sad in a way. So true.

She asked me to sing it, but I didn't have the confidence to do it. It's my one regret in life.

Stuck on You

Stuck on You
by The Commodores

Here I am, settling into bed for the night and doing a little bit of work before shut-eye.

And the first strands of Stuck On You begins to play. (I can name that tune in 5 notes...)

And swish, I begin to fall.
Softly at first, then more swiftly.

Back to the 80's.
Back to 1985 to be exact.

And in my mind I can see James Staton sitting on my sister's couch, in her apartment, looking at pictures of my youth. Ronnie and Vickie are there. But I'm not. I'm in Kentucky, if my memory serves me correctly.

The reason I can see this is because somewhere I have a picture of that exact moment. And on the record player, Joe is playing The Commodores and James likes this song. Probably the first time he's heard it.

And this song brings these feelings that I can't quite put into words.

It's not bittersweet.

It's sweet.
I guess.

Because that was before the problems started.
That was early on in the relationship.
And it's good to know that there were good moments. Sweet moments.

And sweet memories.

Even though the bad memories are pretty much gone for me. I've moved on.

I have Kent. And he's amazing.

End of the Day

It's been a long day.
A good day, but long just the same.

Today was the first official day off school for George's spring break. And even though it shouldn't have I somehow managed to be a full 75 minutes late for work. Got in the truck to drive to work and had to get gas because there wasn't even enough in the tank to coast downhill to Hillsdale!

Got to work and there was a parking space in the lot next to my building. Hoorah!

Got to my desk and the flood gates opened. And the water didn't want to stop.

Linda called to see if I could do lunch, but I was waiting to hear from Kent because the medical technician was coming to the house to prepare him for some sleep apnea testing. Thought he and George might want to meet for lunch.

He didn't.

So even though I felt like working straight through, I went to lunch with Linda because I've been missing her so much lately. And because it happened to be her birthday--which she'd hoped I didn't know about!

I'd really hoped to get home by 5:00 to watch my new favorite TV show, but I didn't get out of work 'til after 5:30, then had to run by Kroger to pick up a pie that George has been super interested in trying.

Managed to get home at 5:47. Miraculous!

We sort of snacked for dinner, and George played outside for a bit. Then we went for a drive.

Saw tons of deer in herds, which I understand is unusual at this time of year.

Dad called on the way home, and I'm pretty sure he wanted to ask about the truck payment, but I had to get off the phone because George was crying in a panic about a possible sliver in his finger.

It turned out to be a scratch with dirt in it.

The three of us felt like watching a movie so we settled in to see Fever Pitch, with Drew Barrymore. It was funny. But ended stupidly. Except the part where the Red Sox won the Championship. That was cool.

Then I take a lukewarm shower. I can FEEL the water cooling as I'm standing there. (We've been having problems with the water heater for weeks.) Makes me think of the bible verse where it mentions that it is better to be hot or cold than lukewarm and spit out of His mouth.

I should look that up.

So, I'm in bed, trying to settle my mind. But I hear Kent up and I wonder if I can sneak downstairs for a little bit to spend some time with him. George is snoozing peacefully.

Kit Kettredge

I rented this movie yesterday, and we've watched it twice. Well, I've watched parts of it twice, and never the entire movie in one sitting. (As I get older I find that my attention span is shorter and shorter. I need no distractions when I watch a movie. And in some cases, have to see it in the theater in order to force myself to pay attention and stay on task. As if watching a movie is a chore!!)

The movie is good.

Set in 1934, focusing on families dealing with the fall out of the Great Depression. About a 10-year old little girl striving to be a reporter one day.

It's worth your time! I think my folks will like it, too, as there are some pretty funny parts. George really enjoyed it, too!

Sad.

I just learned that my cousin and his wife split up. And I'm sad.

I grew up with Ricky, but as we got older we went our own way. Eventually, his family moved to Kentucky. Eventually, he married Louise. She was so kind, and he was so in love with her.

Their love seemed more special because there was an age-difference between them. And though it seemed that he wanted children one day, and she already had children (and if I remember correctly, had her tubes tied), they seemed to compliment one another so well.

I found her yesterday on Facebook, when I was searching for Ricky. I received a message from her today in which she told me that Ricky left her.

And it made me sad.
For both of them.
For me.
For love.

Because, as I told Louise, I've learned that love really isn't enough to keep two people together.

Of course, I have no idea what went wrong in their relationship. She said she still loves him, and that's sad, too.

But Vanessa and I were just chatting this afternoon about divorce and being a good wife. And I told her that life is too short to be unhappy all the time. And, even though I think God wants us to marry for life, I'd divorce without hesitation if things got..."permanently bad". The thing that keeps me and Kent together through hardship is that he's my best friend.

Huh...I guess I should treat him as good as I would treat a friend....

Something to ponder, I guess, as I'm certain that I don't.....

Sad...

Say You, Say Me

Say You, Say Me
by Lionel Richie

I hate this song.
Really.
And that's all I have to say about that.

Toothpicks.

Toothpicks. They're the new "cup of sugar". At least that's how it was two weeks ago around here.

I get a call from my neighbor. She never calls.
I thought something was wrong.

Her son is making a cake for Cub Scouts. Each year the pack has a cake bake auction as a fund raiser. George dropped out of Cub Scouts two weeks before this. Den meetings were boring...

Anyway, her son is making a Guitar Cake and needed toothpicks to use as part of the tuner keys. She asks for six. I dig my supply out of the cake decorating box, and meet her son outside and give him my entire box. To be neighborly. In case they break a toothpick or something.

To date, I've heard nothing.

No "thanks".
No "the cake turned out great."
No "we had to buy our cake so our son wasn't upset"
No "we raised over $300 as a pack"

I thought it was kind of strange.

But that's okay. Life is busy.
I totally get that!

And so, I'm here yesterday -- a week or two later -- and I'm heading upstairs for the umpteenth time. And for the umpteenth time I scoot George's huge bag away from the stair step with my toe. (It's holding his collection of Pokemon and Baseball cards. Including this huge binder!)

And as I begin my ascent on the stairs, I see it.

A baggie that has slipped out of the bag.
A baggie that contains my box of toothpicks.

Sent home, no doubt, the very next day when George was comparing collections with her son!

How funny!

Feels like a Monday Mornin'

It's trying to rain.
Outside my window I can hear it sputter now and then.

I could use a good rain.

What I really long for, though, is to be sitting on my Papo's porch in Kentucky listening and watching the rain.

Now that Papo is gone, and mom and dad own the place it has a beautiful tin roof on it. The rain is beautiful down there.

You sit on the porch, at the top of this mountain, and all around you you can hear the rain falling on other mountains. It may just be misting, but if you sit long enough you begin to hear the water washing down the mountains, gathering together and forming little streams and creeks that flow through the mountainside.

I miss it so much.

It Should Be Against the Law

It's finally ours.

We've been thinking about it.
Wishing for it.
Sacrificing something else so we can afford it.

And here it is in our hands: a new DVD.

The cover is lovely. Full of color and excitement. Pristine and new and unopened.
Full of promise!

We decide who will have the honor of opening it.

We take turns guessing what it will look like. Whether or not the special features are on a separate DVD.

And then we open it.

But not all at once.

We savor the experience.

Slit open the shrink wrap plastic at the end. Slide off the sleeve.

Slit open the super-duper sticky label at the end of the box. Check the other edges for sticky labels cause sometimes the factories can fool you.

And then we open it.
Just a peak.
It's too dark. Too hard to see.
We open the case all the way.

And here it is!! Our new DVD.

And it's awful!
The disc is one of those done all in silver. With only the name, etc. "etched" on the "label".

It stinks!

I figure if we pay $20 for a movie, the least they can do is imprint a full color picture on it. Something that draws you to the disc when it's sitting next to another movie on your desk top.

Ahhh, but there's rub.
The companies don't need to entice us once the package is opened.
We've already paid for the cow--the milk doesn't have to look appealing.

I watch the movie, but from the get-go my experience is tainted.
And it's their fault.
And it should be against the law!

Martin Luther King

Our lives begin and end the day we become silent about the things that matter.
--Martin Luther King

So let us speak to the Heavens.
Let us speak to our neighbor.

Let us share our laughter, our heartache, our fears, our joys.
Let us become friends again.
Let us LIVE again.
Let us no longer be complacent to simply watch and observe life moving around us.

Let us teach our children.
Let us preach the truth.

Let us stand for our beliefs
and be able to back those beliefs up with proof.

Let us stand strong, and know that He is God.
Let us be still enough to hear the whisper of those in need.
Let us be strong enough to lift up those who've fallen.
Let us be loud enough to speak for those who cannot.

Let us BE.

Faithfully - by Journey

I'm sitting on my bed.

It's a beautiful "just before spring" day.

The sun is shining through the windows. It's a Sunday. I've taken a nap. I need a shower.

But I'm drawn to write.

So I'm sitting on my bed, with the radio on.

The little one is playing a video game.

The big one is taking a nap from his midnight shift job.

And I'm thinking of my new post. How to compose it. Where to begin.

And there it is!

On the radio.

The beginning strands of a familiar song.

A song from "then".

But --ahhh-- it's not the song, but it's close.

And for a moment I'm transported to my youth. To the time when I loved JK.

The memories don't flood my mind.
They don't take over my soul.
They don't cause me harm or uneasy feelings.

Quite the opposite: The song leaves me with a smile.

I've had a good life.

The Song Remembers When

I love music. LOVE music.
It's a part of me.
A living, breathing part of me.

So many of my memories are wrapped around a song.

So many songs are wrapped around my memories.

And with today's technology, in a matter of minutes, you can be listening to just about any song you can think of.

Still, my favorite way to hear a song is on the radio.

You're sitting somewhere.
Just minding your own business.
Washing your hair.
Reading a book.
Looking through a magazine.

You're driving somewhere.
Talking to yourself.
Yelling at the person driving in front of you.
Trying to make the kids sit still/be quiet/stop making a mess.

And suddenly, there it is.
The first strands of a familiar song.

And suddenly, it happens.

The world around you slips away.

And you're transported.

To another time.

And you're reliving the memories.
Reliving the moments.
Reliving the feelings from so long ago.

Because the song remembers when . . . .

The Dog

Well, I woke up at 5:00 this morning, which is probably the third time I'd been awake during the night.

But at 5:00 I needed to go to the bathroom. But then I started weighing my options....

If I get out of bed and start moving around, my little one will hear me and he'll wake up. "Mommm!?" He'll ask. And then I have to make him go back to sleep.

And if I cross the hallway to the bathroom, then I risk the chance of waking up the dog.

I'm not sure if my husband came home for lunch and let her out or not, so if she wakes up I'll feel guilted into going downstairs, getting dressed, searching for a coat because it's suddenly back to winter temperatures, and taking her outside to go potty.

So I sit here, an hour later, still holding it in.

And thinking about the old days in Kentucky when there was no indoor plumbing and they'd use "chamber pots" to get through the night in the winter months.

I held it back then, too!

I Was Just Gonna Take a Shower

I was just gonna take a shower.
I had real good intentions.
And out of nowhere comes this memory.
Of how once upon a time an injustice was done to me, and so I'm here to vent.

Because I'm the kind of person who usually "vents and forgets".

I get mad.
I vent.
I rant and rave.
I may even yell.
But then I get over it.

But now I'm thinking it's not always a good thing to just forget.

Even though God tells us to turn the other cheek.

While I don't want to remember these things, I've decided that I at least want to record them....

I just hope I don't forget them before I get a chance to write them down.

1. Tim
2. Kim
3. Mom/Sis baby

Okay, that's all I can remember at the moment.
Maybe an entire blog was stretching it a little..... : )

Yours, Mine, and Ours

Do not be mistaken: this is not the movie with Dennis Quaid and that red-haired chick.

This is the version with Lucille Ball and Henry Fonda as main characters. Also on screen: Tom Bosley, Tim Matheson, and Tracy Nelson. There's another familiar actress, but her name escapes me.

I LOVE this movie. I listen to it every night. At least once. Usually two or three times before sunrise.

When I have more time, I'm going to dissect it. There are so many little things about it that I love and want to explore and examine more closely.

Discipline

Discipline. I have none.

You'd think that knowing this would kick me into gear, right? Nope.

You'd think that knowing this, and seeing the effects of this, that I'd strive to change. That'd I'd be so mortified, that I'd check myself. That fear would settle in my heart as worry settles in your gut. And that the fear and worry would cause me to step up to the plate.

Nope.

And somehow, I think there must be someone to blame for this, right? I mean, I can't be at fault, can I???? Surely not!

But, alas, I don't even have the discipline to make myself find someone to blame....

Thoughts on What's to Come

When I was young, and newly married, I wanted to have nine children and live on a farm. In my mind I could just see all these barefooted children running around, doing chores, and climbing on the fence post.

As it turns out, I was blessed to give birth to two healthy children...fifteen years apart. My third child was blessed to be taken to Heaven before I was able to hold her. And I've been thinking a lot about my children lately. Probably because a friend at work is expecting. And because I just learned that another friend of mine had a miscarriage, too.

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