Mom, Mimi & Messy

34 years, mercy!!! Well if you think I’m going to write  about marrying my best friend, being in love every day of the past 12,411 days and other mushy things…… well you might as well stop reading now.       Our marriage and life falls way short of being a fairy tale.  Fairy Tales are found in book not in real life, or at least not in this real life.   We are two imperfect people,  who somehow managed to create a great life and nearly 3 ½ decades of memories.  In spite of the many ways we tried to mess it up, we are together and determined to grow old, OK older, together. My guess is if you asked many of those attending our wedding 34 years ago tonight, they might not have been overly confident we would be celebrating today.                                                                                                       The saying “opposites attract” is certainly true of Larry and I. We are so opposite in so many ways, yet we are  exactly alike in others. Our childhoods were completely different. So was our teen years and into our early twenties. When we met I was a broken young lady, who was living out the Alabama song “Lady Down on Love”.  My heart had been broken and I was sure it would remain that way forever.   I was trying to be a single mom and trying to figure out how to make it on my own, and everyday I felt like a failure.   I was struggling in so many ways.  Most days I felt like I was drowning. At the same time about 15 miles away Larry was still living at home, had a great job,  a new truck and lots of “toys”, he  was enjoying the place he was in. I cried myself to sleep most nights  while he cruised Kearney Street and stayed out too  late.                           Well the first Friday night of December 1981,  my sister, Becky,  would not let me sit and feel sorry for myself and she convinced me to go cruising with her.  I made it perfectly clear I did not want to go, but she insisted.  I was so out of my comfort zone. I was terrified and so wanted to go home. I focused on trying to go unnoticed, which was hard to do driving around in a bright green TR7 sports car.   There we sit minding our own business,  as I watch the clock for time to go home.  Then a  nice white truck backed in beside us at Burger King. Two guys were in it and they asked if we wanted to go cruising with them. I was ready to run the other way and about choked when I heard Becky say sure, Let’s  Go!!! I know I looked at her like she had four heads.                                                          Well that turned out to just be the beginning. The next night against my better judgement and with lost of protesting,  we went back and saw them again and then again and again. I was still so scared, terrified of being hurt again and convinced no one would really be interest in me and my being a “packaged deal”. I honestly considered myself damaged goods that no one would want.  Well Larry Lay was there to show me differently and help me overcome my fears.                                                                                    Would I admit now that we totally moved too  fast, certainly, without a doubt. We met in early December, broke up in mid March, was engaged in early May and married in mid September.     That was 1982. Wow 12,411 days ago.                                                                                                     Those days have been filled with so many things, both amazing and awful. Yes I said awful! I say we have been married 34 years but we are still trying to decide how many years we have been happily married.                Over the years we have changed. We wear different size jeans.  Some of our hair is a different color.  Our family photo includes more than 3.   Some of the changes have been  for the good, some for the not so good. There have been times Larry has said, he would love to have the girl he married back. Oh not me, I never want to be that broken young lady again. My past hurts and the things I went through (some are still secrets) I would never want to relive. NEVER, NEVER, NEVER.  Yet  as hard as those times were, they were molding me. Yes they harden me and I’m sorry about that, but I still can’t change it, nor would I.    Those sorrows were fingers in the clay that has made me who I am today.                                           Over the past 34 years we have made so many memories and only a few would I wish to forget. Even after 34  years together, we are still completely opposite. Larry is a homebody, I’m always ready to go. Larry would eat anything that doesn’t eat him first, I’m very picky. Larry is a unsweet tea kinda guy, for me the sweeter and more southern the better. Larry loves to sit on the couch and watch TV. I need to be busy. Larry likes to go to bed early and I’m a night owl. Larry needs lots of sleep, give me 6 hours and I’m ready to go. Larry takes forever to get ready of a morning, give me 20 minutes and let’s go. For Larry the taller the vehicle the better, I don’t like needing a ladder to go for a drive. Larry’s idea of fun is climbing rocks with a vehicle, for me I prefer the mall or a flea market. I love DIY, Larry loves to roll his eyes at my “projects”. Well you get the idea, the list could go on and on.                                                                                 Over the past nearly 3 ½  decades we have been a fire chief, a PTA President (more than once), a board member, a Relay organizer, Sunday School teachers, Little League and Quarterback Club Presidents,  homeroom mom, Mighty Mite, Little League and Boys Club basketball coaches, committee members, newspaper editor, supervisor,  and activities chairmen. We have worked hard to make the world around us a better place. Sometimes we have done these things at the expense of each other.                                                                                                                       We have held one another and cried as we buried our parents  (it’s still hard to think it was mine first) and my sister.  We have prayed for one another and wondered if they would be able to stand up to the pain again.  We have stood by each other as our home became quieter and quieter.  We have faced the fear of an empty nest.  One of us has done it much better than the other.  We have proudly watched as our children received diplomas,  have fallen in love and exchanged wedding rings.  We smiled ( and cried just a bit) as our girls received new last names and our son gave a special young lady his.  We have smiled and celebrated as each new grandbaby was laid in our arms.  We have fallen in love with the amazing children of our children.  We have done life together and without a doubt the most amazing of amazing things we have done is our family.                        Above the family pictures in our living room is a large plaque that says ALL BECAUSE TWO PEOPLE FELL IN LOVE and that is so true. Love created the most amazing family and the most amazing life. A perfect life, oh heavens no.      We have wiped each other’s tears and we have made each other cry. We have worked together and we have pulled against each other. We have shared and we have hidden feelings. We have had one another’s back and we have thrown each other under the bus. We have loved each other and we have really not liked one another. We have enjoyed happiness and we have thought we would never be happy again. We have been an example for our kids, examples of both what to do and exactly what not to do. ‘People always say they would do it all again, and most days I would.  I’m thankful on those other days, God has worked in our hearts and lives and taught us how to stick with it when we didn’t want to. One the days I wanted to run away and run fast, God was there to say “Be Still.”  Some days I think we are still together because we are both so stubborn. (see there is a way we are alike)  The Captain and Tennill        ( yep, I’m that old ) proclaimed:  LOVE WILL KEEP US TOGETHER.  The words didn’t work for them, but they do for us.  God’s love, our families love, and our love for God , our love for our  family  and our  love for one another has kept and I pray will continue to keep us together.                              Over the past 34 years there has certainly been more good than not good. God has blessed us with a great life, even when we were determined to mess it up. We breezed through raising 3 amazing kids, who are now amazing adults. God blessed our kids with amazing spouses and now amazing children of their own. Being Mimi and PaPa is one of the things we agree on and we both think it’s completely amazing!! One of us is content being the fun one and one the boring one!!  One of us is  happy to make fun plans and the other is be thrilled  to tag along and help make memories.  As the days move forward, one of us will continue to rub on face creams and  pay to keep a certain hair color away and the other will be ok with looking older.  We will accept the fact that some days it is just best for us to watch TV  in separate rooms and be quite.  We will also accept the reality of  neither one of us wanting the responsibility of picking where we go for dinner.                                                                                   Today we will say Happy Anniversary for the 34th time and will smile as we think about the things this year will bring.  It may be more days of telling the other one they need to pull the hair out of their ears.  And it may be more days of wishing the girl he married would come back, but regardless it will be a year we will treasure and look back on with fond memories when we celebrate a year from now.  

 

I’ve been thankful for the much cooler weather we have been experiencing here in Missouri. With nothing on the calendar after church last Sunday, I decided it would be the perfect day to remove some unwelcome weeds and grass from the flower bed surrounding my front porch. I really wanted to sit in the recliner and cheer on our USA athletes in the Olympics, but responsibility took over and I headed outside.
Once I got started on the much overdue task. I really enjoyed myself. I was very satisfied with the results of my hard work. I knew as I finished I would be dealing with sore muscles for a few days. But I didn’t realize there would be even more for me to deal with.
The sore muscles were a piece of cake, compared to the blisters, rash and itching which greeted me the next afternoon. It was my granddaughter who first noticed something growing on my face, and it wasn’t a sunburn as she diagnosed . Instead the left side of my face was covered with bright pink bumps and shiny blisters that reveals the time pulling weeds had indeed left me with more than sore leg muscles and a tired back.
I know when I pull weeds, or do other work outside, I should wear gardening gloves. But, I don’t always to what I know I should do. Gloves make my hands sweat. Yes, that is really the only excuse I have. As I pulled the weeds that surrounded the beautiful blooming flowers, I didn’t notice anything to alert me to the fact some sort of poison would soon be ready to attack my body. It was just grass. I have pulled grass in the same flower bed for nearly two decades.
I may have been to stubborn to work with sweaty hands, but I was smart enough to wash my hands a various times during my afternoon of sprucing up. With the front flower bed looking so good and the weather being so nice, I continued to work in other gardening area of the yard. I was pretty proud of my work and accomplishments when I finally decided my back and legs were ready for me to be satisfied. Tired and hungry I headed to the shower.
When stepping into the lukewarm shower, it is my normal routine to stick my face right into the water pounding from the shower head. Ahhhhhhhh I rubbed my face and enjoyed feeling the days sweat and dirt roll off of me and make its way down the drain. Apparently dirt being transferred to the drain, was not the only transfer taking place. My hands and face washing would soon prove to be a less than ideal grooming task for that moment.
After filling my tummy and vegging in from the the TV I headed to bed. The alarm would be sounding soon for the start of a very busy week. Several times during that Monday I patted myself on the back when I would get a glimpse of the weed and grass free flower beds. It was my goal to finish up another couple of places in the yard that evening, but instead I found myself feeling flushed and a bit itchy. So I chose more time in the recliner.
As the alarm sounded welcoming Tuesday morning, I staggered across my room and into the bathroom. When I slipped on my glasses and looked there was pink faced image staring back at me in the mirror, it was obvious there must have been more than weeds in that flower bed.
Of course as soon as I saw my pitiful reflection, the itching amplified . My face, my arms, even my ears were begging for me to attack them with my short finger nails. I was not a happy camper as I tried without success to resist the itching requests from my body. Later in the day, after seeing the doctor for a shot, I was sure that would be all I needed to kick this quickly. But on no, when I do something I do it good.
I’m sure you can figure out my story from here. More intense desires to scratch, more spots itching and one very unhappy weed exterminator. My eyes would barely open, my cheeks looked like a chipmunk who was storing up for winter. And did I mention I wanted to scratch so many parts of my body. A co-worker loving voiced the resemblance I had to the Nutty Professor. I referred to myself at the fat Chinese girl.
Needless to say this breakout was caused by what we guess to be the result of me playing with sumac. The nasty poisonous weed apparently was not happy about me uprooting its home among my flowers. A swollen face, arms covered in mini blisters and scratch begging bumps, did not have a positive affect on my mood.
It was while I was swallowing yet another does of the drowsy educing Benedryl gel-caps that God seemed to clear his throat and question what I really had to be complaining about.Apparently my complaining talent was not something
God wanted me to further develop. I had an allergic reaction, not leprosy or some other skin rotting disease.
Immediately 1 Thessalonians 5:18 flashed over and over in my mind and heart. God’s word says “give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God’s will for you in Jesus Christ”. Did God really want me to be thank for poison sumac? No His word doesn’t instruct me to be happy for the circumstance, but rather he instructs me to be thankful IN the circumstance. Ouch, my heart was experiencing more pain that my swollen, blistered, red face. I immediately put my mind into action to name the things I indeed had to be thankful for. Here’s just a few of the things God revealed to my mind and heart.
It was a 78 degree day in mid-August in the nations heartland. Certainly something to be thankful for. I own a home, with a beautiful front porch surrounded by flowers and plants. I was thankful I was not homeless. I’m not as flexible as I used to be, sometimes I get dizzy when I bend over and stand up to fast, but I needed to be thankful for my health. So many would love to have the ability to pull weeds . I finished the task with the back of my legs being extremely sore, but I had legs, two of them and they both worked. Then God reminded me I had 2 good eyes to see the weeds and the flowers, and even in their swollen state, I could see. I had 10 fingers and steady hands to plant the flowers and pull the weeds. We had enjoyed a summer without drought which has allowed the flowers and weeds to flourish Yep again something else to be thankful for. And the list could go on and on. I had a shower to go to- dinner to eat– electricity to power the TV– a DVR to record the Olympics I miss while outside—- a comfortable bed to rest my exhausted body. Then He reminded me I had the ability to pay to see the doctor- there was a doctor right here in my community- i had the means to receive the shot and later the prescription . I drove a car and lived in a house with air conditioning which made me a bit less miserable. I had a family and friends to check on me and to pray for me. Yes I had an growing case of an allergic reaction, but in the midst of itching, rubbing on medication and lotion and complaining, I certainly have reason after reason to be thankful.
I’m working on my thankfulness and I’m thanking God for using the itchiest of situations to get my mind and heart where it needs to be. Isn’t it amazing the way God works to teach life lessons through the most everyday, rather messy, but blessed lives. . And there again is yet another thing to be thankful.

 

 

I love Father’s Day.  And I also really dislike Father’s Day.  The dislike started in 2003 when this daddy’s girl experienced her first Father’s Day without her daddy.  I seriously doubt the holiday will ever be the same for me.

I love watching my husband be a daddy and now a papa.  My heart feels like it could burst when I now watch my son in the role as daddy.  Even with those joys, the day is still hard, simply because it gives me yet another reason to miss my dad.

My daddy dropped over with a massive heart attack in November of 2002.  God had completely orchestrated the days prior to his Black Friday death.  My daughter was home for the holiday.  We had a great time with the family, including my dad on Thanksgiving.  Then the next day he was gone.  When I kissed him goodbye on Thanksgiving night and told him I would see him later, I didn’t realize how far away later really was.

I don’t need a day on the calendar like Father’s Day to remind me of my dad.  Things remind me of him each and everyday.  I can hear him sing with I listen to the radio.  I can see him on horseback as I pass a horse in a field.  I can hear his laughter as one of my kids say something silly or sarcastic.  Sometimes I think I can still smell his cologne. In my mind I can still see his soft, yet calloused hands.  I can also see his eyes when I glance in the mirror.

There are days when the simple things like a wrench, a guitar pick, a pair of cowboy boots, a nice looking truck or a fishing pole can fill me with memories of my dad.  The flowers on my porch, the guitar standing in the corner of my living room, the tools in my garage always remind me of some of the things I daddy left with me.

But more than things, my daddy left me with love and he left me with life.  He left me with life lessons that continue to guide and direct me nearly 14 years later.  My daddy was not a perfect man, but he was the perfect daddy for me.  He taught me to love, because he loved me.   He taught me to forgive, because we had to forgive each other.  He taught me lessons each and everyday.  He taught me how easily others can be hurt, because we hurt each other.  He taught me how to joke, to laugh,  and to be a bit sarcastic, because he was that example for me.  My daddy taught me to believe in myself, because he believed in me.

The list of things my daddy taught me could fill the pages of a book.  Really the only thing he didn’t teach me was how to live the rest of my life without him.  This is a lesson that I’m working on each day.  It’s a process that is sometimes harder than I ever thought it could be.  It is a lesson that I would have rather never learned.  But my daddy taught me to be tough and to do whatever it takes to do what I need to do.  So that’s what I do.  I continue to learn my lessons.  I walk with his memory in my heart and I cry just a bit on Father’s Day. That’s just something a daddy’s girl has to do.

 

 

 

By the time my mom arrived at the hospital that night, she was already a grandmother.  Her nameless little granddaughter was there, perfectly healthy, pink and ready to be loved by her new family.  

    My surprise pregnancy and delivery had myself  and my family in complete and total shock.  This brand new baby girl, born at the stroke of midnight,  immediately wrapped my mom around her little finger.  The unplanned delivery left me sick and frail but it seemed to rekindle the fire in my mom that hadn’t  been seen in a long time.  My mom  immediately  fell in love and sprang  into action to make sure Alisha Renee’ was taken care of and loved beyond measure.  

    As other grandchildren came into my mom’s life, her love for them multiplied with each addition.  She loved them all equally but there was always a special place in her heart for the sweet  little surprise baby  who dominated her life and love for those first five years of being a grandma.

    As Alisha grew,  a strong love and friendship developed between her and her grandma.  They enjoyed special time together and always worked to make sure the other knew how special they were to each other.  Mom was always Alisha’s biggest fan and cheerleader.  She never missed an opportunity to be in the stands to show her support.  Whether it was a ballgame, choir concert or school play, Grandma was there. Having  slumber parties in grandma’s family room were always more fun there than the ones at home.  

    From the time she received  that surprise phone call my mom devoted herself to being a wonderful  grandma.  She loved my children, spoiled them, corrected them, gave them guidance,  taught them proper manners, and supported them. She was an all-round super hero of a grandma.  I loved seeing her so devote to my children.   Years later  I would come to realize, that in the many wonderful ways my momma expressed her love, the last of these would be the most precious.  

   Alisha was about to leave on her first overnight trip to visit a classmate at her university campus when there was an emergency call to 911 and my mom was rushed to the hospital with lights and sirens blaring.   Like with Alisha’s birth over 18 years before, mom’s illness onset was sudden and unexpected.

   At the emergency room and then after admission to the hospital the doctors had few answers for us.  All they would say was mom was “a very sick lady”.  At mom’s instance, Alisha went on with her trip. But with every mile Alisha drove, grandma’s condition seemed to get worse. Things transpired quickly and the situation changed from severe stomach pains and violent vomiting  to being unconscious and then unresponsive.   As an overprotective mom, I chose to shelter Alisha from many of the details of what was happening at home.   We  wanted her to enjoy her ‘away from home’ ‘experience.  Besides,  I had no real clue as  to what the next hours would bring. The idea of my mom being on her deathbed was a place I could not let myself consider. After all mom was only 58 years old.   But less than 24 hours from when Alisha  pulled out of the drive, I knew she needed to come back home.  

    Based on her close relationship with her Grandma, I did not want to just call and  suggest her return. Alisha would hear the heartbreak and concern in my voice.   I wanted her trip home to be safe, so I chose to send a couple of friends to go get her and bring her back.  I knew the emotional state she would be in and I  could not stand the thought of her driving  way too fast with tear streaked vision.  This choice meant the travel time would double and  it would be nearly seven hours before Alisha would walk in the doors of the ICU unit to tell her Grandma goodbye.  

    Those seven hours turned into an emotional and heart wrenching time in the ICU waiting room.  Family members filled the seats and we prayed for mom and for Alisha’s travel.  The minutes ticked away at a seemingly rapid pace as we watched mom’s health decline.  

    The number on Alisha’s speedometer and mom’s thermometer  both steadily climbed as the race was on for Alisha to make it to grandma’s bedside.  As we stood by my mom’s side watching her blood pressure and heart rate continued to decrease, just speaking Alisha’s name seemed to create a stir in mom’s sick heart.  Many times I whispered and told mom how much I loved her and reminded her Alisha was on her way.  There would be no visual response, but mom’s heart rate would  increase a tiny  bit each time Alisha’s name was spoken.  I know without a doubt my momma was waiting on our baby girl.  

    The last couple of hours of mom’s life was a roller coaster of emotions.  I spent my time divided between mom’s bedside and the phone in the waiting room where I would check on Alisha’s location and loving on my other kids who were hurting so bad.  Tears filled the ICU room, the waiting room and Alisha’s car as darkness set in and the race continued.  

   Then the call came, Alisha was in the parking lot.  With her baby sister running down the steps to meet her and Alisha pounding on the button of the elevator and then running up the steps to say goodbye, tears were falling as fast as the temperatures outside on that November night.  

    With a room full of family at Mom’s side, a huge sigh of relief was groaned around the bedside as Alisha bolted through the door.  As Alisha took her place beside me, she was very still and obviously in shock.  That’s when my sister-in-law spoke up and hastily and matter-of -factly  said “Alisha, tell your grandma you love her”.  At the time the mother hen in me had her tail feathers ruffled and I resented the instruction, but soon I would be more than grateful..  At that moment Alisha responded, grabbed her grandma’s hand and softly said, “ Grammy, I’m here and I love you.”  As Alisha finished her statement, there was a visible sign of relief on my mom’s face. Her entire body seems to instantly relax.  Peace and permission  for my mom had entered the room the moment Alisha stepped in. Less than one minute after Alisha voiced her love, it was over.  Momma took her last breath as Alisha held her by the hand.  

   From the time I watched  my mom hold Alisha 18 ½ years before,  I knew she deeply loved that child.  But it was not until her sudden and unexpected, no real time for goodbye death, did I completely understand the depth of her love.  My mom postponed her own death, continued to suffer, all because she knew Alisha needed to be there.  She knew that Alisha needed to say, “ I love you Grammy”,  just one more time.  My mom,  without a doubt,  loved my children with each breath of her life.  And I’m thankful to know  it was obviously a love that could not be broken, not even by death.  My mom loved my kids every day of her life and she proved it in her death.  

Ever had one of those days when it is all you can do to keep back the tears?  A day that is harder than hard.  Well today is one of those days for me.  If I could have had my way, I might have just hide under the covers (may not… I don’t like my head covered) and cried the day away.  

Today, Sunday, April 10, 2016 should have been the day to celebrate my younger sister,Becky’s, 55 birthday.  Today should have been  the day I would tease her about getting older.  Today should have been the day I took her a rose bush or hanging basket to say Happy Birthday.  Today should have been the day I decided to change it up and take her bubbles, sidewalk chalk, a kite, a coloring book and markers to give her a chance to feel young again.

But today is not the day it should have been.  So instead of doing the things I should have been doing and  I used to love to do for Becky’s birthday, I did things I would rather not do.  Instead , I posted in memory photos on Facebook. Instead,  I posted about how much I loved and missed her on this National Siblings Day and her now heavenly birthday.  Instead, I made a beautiful and cheerful headstone arrangement and delivered it to the cemetery.  Instead, I shed more than a few tears because I miss her more than I could ever imagine.  Today I wanted to do anything but the “Instead”.

In just a few weeks we will embark on the 5th anniversary of Becky’s sudden and shocking death.  It is still hard on my heart to think about her going to bed right next door to me and her waking up in Heaven only a few hours later.

There is not a day that goes by that I don’t think of my sister, my next door neighbor, my secret keeper, my “make me so angry” person and my best friend.   And it’s the strangest things I miss.  I miss her being mad at me.  I miss her complaining I didn’t wave at her when I didn’t even see her.  I miss her being annoyed because I would mow my yard and make hers look shabby. I miss her making me laugh at the smallest  of things.    I miss her………….. well that list could go on and on.

You know, many times I wanted to kill my little sister.  But I never ever wanted her dead.  I never wanted to walk the rest of my life life without her.  I never wanted to watch her family hurt.  I never wanted to learn to stand on my own at times I would need to lean on her.

I’ve said it many times.  Our mom dying at such a young age was hard.  Daddy being here one day and gone the next was hard.  But my younger sister dying in her sleep was harder than hard.  It was harder than hard because in the previous hard and heartbreaking circumstances of life, I had my sister to lean on.  I had my sister to worry about.  I had my sister to talk to.  I had my sister to cry with. I had my sister who knew exactly what I felt like.  I had my sister to wipe my tears.  This time in the saddest time of my life:  I don’t have her to help me.  Grieving without my sister is truly harder than hard.  

Today has turned into one of those harder than hard days.  Today I miss her even more than I did yesterday.  Today I wish I could change things.  Today I know I can’t change anything.  Today I know tomorrow isn’t promised to any of us.  Today I know to love those you love completely today!!!!  Today I know I’m stronger than I ever thought I could be.  Today I know God will give me what I need to get through today.  Today I know one step at a time I will walk faithfully through the harder than hard.

 

I love feeling like I’m being used by God.  I love being available to meet the need of someone else.  I love serving and being there for others.

All too often I’m guilty of making plans and  thinking I know exactly how God “should be” using me.  When I’m making those plans I usually think it has to be something big.  But those plans are mine and sometimes God’s plans are simple and could easily go unnoticed by anyone but HIM.

This week God chose to use me in one of those super simple ways.  

When it comes to my grandchildren there is no limit to what I would do to care for them and help them in their daily walk.  Well this week God choose to have me minister to the little feet that are walking beside him.  

On Monday I was up to my eyeballs in volunteer work for the Relay for Life. This time of year Monday is Relay day in my world.  As I sat at the keyboard sending out emails and trying to recruit others to get excited about the rapidly approaching community event, my phone rang.  My caller ID told me it was the school.  As soon as I answered, I recognized the voice on the other end.  It was nurse Rolanda, the precious nurse at the elementary school where three of my  grandbabies attend.  Immediately I jump into worry mode, with my mind racing.  Is someone sick, did someone get hurt, what’s wrong are the first things to my thoughts.  Well when I decided to listen, I learned that no one was sick and no one was hurt, but one of the grandkids did indeed need my help.  Yep, God was using me to help them on the path of life.  Nurse Rolanda explains that Trista was wearing her new boots that she was so proud of.  Those new boots were hurting her feet and were about to rub a blister.  The solution…. “Could Mimi bring her some different shoes?”  Well of course, tennis shoes were soon on their way to her sore little feet.  

Several times during the week I thought about that phone and I was thankful my schedule allowed me to meet the needs of Trista.  To be able to provide what she needed at the time she needed, maybe that was how God was using me.  

The very busy week passed quickly and soon it was Friday and my day was packed with plans and things to get done.   Well suddenly  my phone was ringing again and it was once again Nurse Rolanda.  Again nobody was sick or hurt,  can you believe it…… it was yet another shoe issue.  Seriously, my ministry for the week was shoes?  This time there were no blisters, no new boots causing pain.  This time……. It was dog poop.  Yes, you read that right….. Dog poop.  Sweet nurse Rolanda explained that Kaiden had stepped in dog poop before coming to school and he was not able to get it or the smell out of his shoes.  And you guessed it…… they needed me to bring him another pair of shoes.

I smiled as I looked at the shoes now sitting in the front seat of my car and on their way to school.  I smiled and I whispered, “thank you God for using me to meet the needs of another.”
Sometimes God calls us to wash the feet of another and other times  he calls us to deliver shoes to school.  

Mom, Mimi and Messy is a great way to describe me.  I consider myself very blessed.  Most of my blessing come for the amazing family God gave to me.  I find great joy in being a wife, mom and  a Mimi.  I know many would love to have my life and the love that fills it. Sometimes it is hard for me to see my life the way others do.  Some days I can only see the messy me.   Everyday I am a work in progress and I’m learning daily to allow God to direct me on how to live through and clean up my messes.  I’m thankful God loves messy people.  I’m thankful my family loves my messy me.  It is my prayer for my life and my messes to inspire others.  Some of my messes will make you laugh.  Others will make you cry.  And then there are those which will leave you shaking your head and thinking, ‘mercy girl ; you are a mess’.