Your knitting is making us old ....

I was headed home after a long day of work.  Instead of going home to cook dinner, I decided to treat myself to take-out.  I had almost completely, but not wholly decided on Subway.  I picked up the phone to make my daily call to my friend, Mandy.  She answered the phone on the first ring and we quickly got into conversation.  She was in town at the new Joann’s buying yarn.  She has recently taken up knitting scarves all of which she has learned to do by watching YouTube.  I tell her about my dinner plans and she asks in a non-subtle way where I am going.  When I say Subway, I can tell that she isn’t very interested.  Then I ask if she wants to meet for dinner.   The first thing out of her mouth is how her husband is working late and that she would love to meet me.  After a few minutes of pondering where we should go, we settled on Cheddar’s.  I’ve yet to eat there, but she has been several times and highly recommends it.  I say that I’ll meet her there and then we hang up.

Since I was traveling from Dawsonville and she was just a mile or so away from the restaurant, I’m thinking that it is safe to say that she will be there first.  I’m not sure how the rest of you feel about meeting people, but it is always awkward to be the first or the last person to show up.  You don’t know if you should go ahead and get a table or wait OR you are left wondering where in the world everyone is sitting and if they have already ordered.  Since we had picked such a popular restaurant, I’m thankful that she was ahead of me and would already have us a place to sit by the time I arrived.  I pulled into the very crowded parking lot, found a fairly decent spot, got out of my car, locked it up, and headed inside.  I turn to my left as I see a car approaching and notice that my dear, wonderful friend, Mandy is just now arriving.  To top it off, she’s on the phone and we both know that her parking skills are slightly weakened when she is attempting this task.  Knowing that she is right behind me, I head on inside.  I give the hostess our number of guests and she immediately lets me bypass all the people already waiting.  I look around for Mandy and she is not in sight.  I’m guessing that she will enter any second and see me and quickly catch up.  As usual in circumstances like this, that doesn’t happen.

This is one of the largest restaurants I’ve ever been in.  It seems to go on and on and on.  As I’m being taken to our table, I keep thinking how in the world is she going to find me here, but I’m also thankful that it isn’t me that’s left behind.  I’m pretty sure that I would have gotten lost.  I also know that no one asked for my name.  So essentially, finding me is going to be difficult at best.  I’m seated at a table in a section that is already filled with people and I wait.  The waiter comes by asking for my drink order and I tell him mine and wait.  He brings the drink back and I’m still waiting.  I call Mandy thinking that she is on the phone with her sister (sorry Jaime) and can’t get off.  She ignores my calls.  (I made 2.)  I keep peeking my head out of the over-sized booth that I was sat in with no luck.  I text her the directions to our seats and hope that she can pry the phone away from her face long enough to find me.  I wait for at least 10 minutes when she makes her appearance…….. still on the phone.

The phone conversation eventually ends and I immediately ask her to take off her new crocheted scarf so that I can try it on.  It looks great and I’m sitting there so proud because I know that she must be planning one of these beauties for around my neck too.  We discussed the different kinds of approaches to knitting, how she can add flowers to it for a little razzle dazzle, once she learns how to create them, and how different yarns yield different scarves.  We order our food and then move onto other topics.  During the entire time since I’ve sat down, I’ve noticed that almost everyone sitting near us has silver or gray hair, and a few people with no hair at all.  Of course, I’m looking in one direction only and think there must be some young people sitting behind me.  The thought lasts for only a moment when an elderly couple leave and are replaced with 2 more of the same age.

I know that at this point Mandy is wondering why my eyes keep moving around our small dining area.  Every time someone comes or goes, I look their way.  I’m doing this because I realize that the hostess has sat us in the over 60 section of the restaurant.  I’m personally not prejudiced and I know the establishment would deny it, but the fact still remains that a couple of young ladies (we are still in our early 30s) were seated in a section of the dining room that is reserved for older people.  Since most of our conversation at dinner was about her new obsession with scarf making, I have decided to blame Mandy.  Her knitting has made us old.  They saw us coming; therefore they sat us with the upper aged crowd.  I tell her to look around and when she does she doesn’t appear to notice the same thing that I do.  Of course, she is also allowed a more panoramic view than I.  She laughs.  I tell her that it is her fault and the fact that she is in bed by 9:00 every night after taking a long nap after getting home from work in the afternoon, and now to top it off she is knitting scarves; she is the one to blame!!!  Also I’m a little offended that apparently I send off messages that I need a “sugar daddy” since I was the first to enter the restaurant. 

I take my phone out needing to get back in touch with reality and check the time.  So my clock says 6:00 and we are finished with dinner and have been for 30 minutes?  Does that really make a difference?  Apparently it does.  As we were leaving with the rest of the retired, the late crowd had room to sit.  You know, the people who eat at a normal time.  Sometime after 6:00.  At least, I got home in time to be ready for bed by 9:00.

:o)

I love people over 60.  I love people who can knit.  Please don't take offense if you fall into either or both of these categories.  By the way, if you do knit, I would love ... never mind.  ;o)

Matching My Dreams to His

I can’t remember a time when I didn’t want to be a wife and mother.  My entire childhood memory bank is filled with playing “here comes the bride” and “pushing the baby stroller.”  I was always certain that those 2 things were things that I would always wish for in my life and eventually have.  As I grew older, those dreams began to create themselves in a real way for me.  I began to imagine exactly what the man would be like.  Not so much what he looked like, although a big teddy bear was in the forefront, but what his character would be.  For some reason, I always pictured him as someone who others needed.  He was funny, kind, smart, and would love me unconditionally even when I put unbearable needs on him.  In my mind, I did not create a perfect man!  I created someone who was perfect for only me.  I knew that we would argue because I’ll just be honest and say that I tend to like to argue.  I never understood why until I realized that I was using arguing as a way to push and wanted to see how far I could get until I got pushed back.  I also know that I use fights to determine how fair a person will fight, but also if I’m worth sticking around for after the fight is over.  So far, this has proved to be untrue. 

The having children dream came easily to me, too.  I have always loved being with and around children.  Holding teeny tiny babies, chasing after toddlers, and forging a relationship with all the children in my life.  I’m an elementary school teacher so children are prevalent.  When it comes right down to it, I spend more time with children than with anyone else.  I find something unique about them all and since I love to laugh so much, children are great at bringing out that kind of joy.  So needless to say, after getting married, the having children part would naturally ensue.  It’s funny how my dreams haven’t really changed that much since I was young enough to still play at pretend.  I still want that perfect man for me and children that I get to keep.  Instead of having to send them home on the bus after school every day or leave them with their mom and dad after visiting a friend’s house.  I would love to fill my Facebook up with family photos of my very busy family life.  Instead my profile picture is usually a crazy spin on something fun I’ve done to fill up time in my life.

I’m sure there are millions of people who can say that they’ve prayed a lot of unanswered prayers.  I guess a lot of those million can also say that they’ve prayed those same prayers for years.  I’ll be honest and say that it is wearing to this Christian’s heart.   I’ve tried to face life head on.  I’ve smiled when I really wanted to cry and I’ve cried when I really would rather have been smiling.  For the longest time, I’ve questioned whether or not my dreams/prayers were the right ones for me.  I’ve wondered if there were lessons that I was supposed to be learning that just never quite got learned.  I’ve thought many times that maybe I’m going about this entirely the wrong way, yet I’ll admit to not having a clue as to how to do it differently.

Recently I began thinking about how my age is changing my views on my dreams.  I know that women of all ages get married and have children, but I’m beginning to wonder if either of these is right for me.  The dreams are still there, but I’m thinking that time is running out.  In all truth, I’ve come to realize that for me there has to be a point when I say that having children is out.  I held a newborn baby tonight.  Just a little over 12 hours old and while looking in his beautiful face, I wondered if I could really be a mother now.  If I had enough life left to make my children’s life amazing.  That may seem weird to many of you, but I have lived with diabetes for some time now.  Although I would consider myself moderately healthy, I want to live with my children and not leave them living without me.  I know that 33 isn’t very old or at least not as old as it used to be and I also know that women are successfully having children later in life, but for me I’m not sure that I can do it.

I’ve always held onto lots of hope.  I’ve vocalized over and over that I would probably never get married in hopes that others would rally around me and say  “sure you will.”  Now, however, it doesn’t seem to boost my hope.  Instead, I wonder if maybe I should just learn to change the dreams.  For me, getting married and having children go hand in hand.  I can’t do the latter without the first.  So really, I feel as if 2 dreams are smoldering in the ashes.  While consoling myself through this, I’ve often become bitter and bitterness leaves a terrible taste.  So I struggle along trying to find peace in faking it until I feel it.  I don’t want my life to be wrapped around with hurt and dread.  I want a life full of laughter and joy. 

Please know that I know that I am one of the most blessed people that I know.  I can’t even begin to tell you how God has worked in my life.  I can never repay the debt that I owe and I’m thankful that He’ll never ask me to.  The overabundance in my life is so much more than the unfulfilled dreams.  This I already know.  Telling me that God loves me and wants the best for me is like preaching to the choir.  I know this.  So what am I doing? 

I’m trying to match my dreams to His.  I’m trying to fulfill my destiny with the one He has laid out for me.  I’m trying to take deep breaths that fill my lungs.  I’m trying to read my Bible.  I’m trying to pray.  I’m crying out for help and I’m hoping that each teardrop is its own letter to God.  I’m also trying to forge new dreams in a long line of old ones.  I tell you this because I desperately stand in need of prayer.  I’m not afraid to ask for prayer, but I just don’t usually do it for myself.  I’m asking that you stand on my behalf before a very fair and just God.  I’m asking that you pray for peace in my life, for understanding of what God wants for me, and for patience to endure this life’s torments with a big smile.  So that in the end, I can say I’ve fought a good fight and I’ve kept the faith.

:o)

16 today

The ringing telephone woke me up from a dead sleep.  Mom answered the phone with her usual chirpy voice and normal phone etiquette took place.  Then all of a sudden I hear, “Leigh Ann’s pregnant?!?!?!?!”  The phone conversation lasts another 10 minutes or so and then my bedroom door opens and my overhead lights are turned on.  Mom asks the loaded question, “Guess what?”  I respond with, like any always in a bad mood when woken up 16 year old, “Leigh Ann’s pregnant.”  Mom looks at me with a question on her face and I inform her that I overheard the phone conversation.  I did not know then what I know now, but that phone call and the birth that resulted from the pregnancy news changed my life forever.

Today, you are turning 16 years old.  The exact age that I was when I found out that you were to be.  When I was younger, I never understood what people meant when they said that time flies by.  I understand it now, though.  It doesn’t seem like you should be turning 16.  I remember walking through the store trying to pick out the cutest clothes that I could find for a shower gift for your mom.  I purchased a white onsie filled with bright colors.  It’s the outfit that your parents brought you home from the hospital in.  I still remember you dancing around at just a year old in one of your dad’s t-shirts to “My Maria,” your favorite song at the time.  I also remember picking you up from daycare when you were 3 and taking you to walk around my college campus.  It wasn’t that long ago that you would ride around on my shoulders.   It seems like just yesterday that I was purchasing Fisher Price toys for your birthday and Christmas.   There are too many memories to tell, but each one seems like it just occurred.  Time has certainly sped up since I was 16 and now this rite of passage is happening for you.

Often friends will ask me a loaded question about the looks of their children.  It usually starts with, “Isn’t my baby the cutest baby you’ve ever seen?”  I always smile and say they sure are cute, but Evan Gaddis is still the cutest baby that I’ve ever seen.  It’s amazing how much I fell in love with you from the minute I first heard your cry.  I was standing in the room next to your mom’s delivery room and I could hear the doctor and nurse coaching your mom.  I could also hear your dad laughing the second he saw you.  My ear was pressed to the wall anticipating that first life sound.  When you let out that cry, my heart melted and tears ran down my cheeks.   I ran into the hall and announced that you were here.  We’d waited for such a long time to meet you and now you were here.  I couldn’t wait to get my hands on you.

A few minutes later, they walked you down to the nursery and your dad never left your side.  There we all stood peeping through the windows at one of the biggest newborns any of us had ever seen.  Your dad couldn’t stop laughing and we couldn’t stop talking about how big and sweet you were.  They put you in a diaper and let your dad hold you for the first time.  Like any proud father, he held you up for our inspection and for the first time in my life, I saw perfection.  I knew that you would not be perfect, but I knew that God had created you and that He had died for you and that it would be my honor always to have you in my life.  Then I looked down at your feet.  Purple feet that is.  I started making hand motions at your dad.  That’s when I noticed your hands.   They were purple too.  You were crying with everything you had and I realized that they were freezing you.  In a short amount of time, your dad had to give you back to the nurses and he walked out to give us all the details of your life.  The first thing I said to him was that you were freezing and I knew this because you were turning blue.  He laughed and said there was no way because the nursery was warm and so were the lights above your bed.  I then pointed out your hands and feet and he said that’s from the ink they used to get his finger and footprints.  Needless to say, I was relieved.  I’ll be honest and tell you that I was pretty upset until I heard that news.

I’ve loved a lot of people in my life.  The day you were born, I discovered how a person’s heart could grow with love.  I could feel it happening in and to me.  I had this strong desire to see you grow, to see you accomplish everything you wanted, and more importantly to see you accept Christ as your Savior.  I held you as a baby and prayed for God to do amazing things in your life.  I asked Him to walk with you through life that can sometimes be really hard and give you all the desires of your heart.  I also asked Him to reveal Himself to you in a real way and accept Him the first time that He asked you to be His.  I’m so thankful that I was able to see that prayer answered.

Evan, you are everything and more that I could ever want as a nephew!  I count you among my biggest blessings.  There is nothing that I am more proud of than to say that I am your aunt.  You have brought joy to my life since the moment I knew you were here.  You are an amazing young man and I feel honored that I get to spend this life and the one to come with you.  I’m so excited that you are turning 16.  I can’t wait to hear and see all the adventures that you are going to have from this time forward.  I’ve already been a part of so many and I can’t wait to see what happens next.  Know that wherever you are, I will always love you and be praying that God guides you through all the things that life has to offer.  Thank you for letting me be a part of your world.  Happy Birthday, dude!!!

Timing Belt Replacement

Anyone who knows me, I mean knows me even just a little bit knows that I do not speak “car and driver.”  It isn’t that I can’t appreciate a nice new car or even a nice old car; it’s just that I really don’t care much about cars.  Of course at the age of 16 I did, but that was over a decade ago.  Now, I just want a “cute” dependable car that will get me from point A to point B with no problems.  By no problems, I absolutely, 100% mean that I don’t want any check engine, low fuel, oil, or overheating lights to come on while I am driving down the road.  I want nothing but smooth sailing the entire way.  It doesn’t help that the only thing that I do for my car is to refuel.  I just don’t like having to take care of the other, I know necessary, maintenance issues on a car.  I used to think that I was meant to marry a mechanic with all the car trouble I’ve had.

Recently, my friend, Melisa’s car started giving her problems.  She told me that they had to replace the timing belt and that I might should get that looked at for my own car because we have about the same number of miles driven on our odometer.  She is always looking out for me and just wanted to make sure that I knew it was something that I might need to have checked out.  I take this brief conversation with Melisa and head to my parent’s house for dinner.

We are sitting in the living room and I start discussing needing an oil change and having my engine looked over.  My dad says that he agrees that I should and that he will set this plan in action.  (He usually does after I remind him 2 or 3 or 4 times.)  As we are still discussing my car, I casually ask about having my timing belt replaced.   My dad turns and looks at me.  He has the strangest look on his face.  One that I can’t figure out even though I’ve been looking at his strange looks for years.  He then proceeds to ask me if I know where the timing belt is located and I say no.  He explains it to me and then I once again ask if I should have it replaced.  The strange look appears again.  I’m pondering what he is thinking and in just a moment he reveals the look that I can’t identify.

He says who told you about a timing belt.  I rehashed the conversation with Melisa and he then begins to nod in understanding.   You see my dad knows there is no way possible for me to know about a timing belt all on my own.  He knows that those exact words came from someone else and he is trying to figure out whom in the world I would be discussing any thing car and driver with. 

Once he realizes that Melisa and I were making plans for good car upkeep, the strange look disappears and he again recognizes me as his daughter that doesn’t know anything about timing belts or even cars for that matter.  I could feel a sense a relief from him that the puzzle had been solved.  I’m also certain that at some point he will suggest to Melisa’s husband, Ryan, that maybe she and I might be better off not having discussions about our cars.  I’m almost sure too that he was thankful that at least for now, he is still in charge of keeping my car safely running on the road.  Left to my own devices, I just may be driving a scooter or a golf cart.

:o)

The Lesson of the Pinholes

I was at a party one time with lots of my closest friends.  We had a table filled with food, drinks, paper plates, and bright red plastic cups.  As I walked around the table, I filled my plate with food.  I then picked up some kind of drink and one of those plastic cups and filled it the brim.  I grabbed a napkin and a fork, looked around the room for a place to sit, and then picked up the cup.  As I did, it began dripping liquid all over the place.  My hands were full and the table was already stained with the drink.  I had a momentary lapse in judgment and instead of putting my cup into another one, I rushed to the sink, leaving behind a trail of liquid all over the floor.  I emptied the cup into the sink and then turned it upside down to investigate.  I already knew what the problem was, but I wanted to take a closer look.  Of course, my cup had a hole in it.  I am thinking that this hole is about the size of a dime considering the amount of liquid that came rushing out of it.  Upon closer inspection however, I discover that the hole is actually about the size of a pinhole.

How can this be?  Surely I am mistaken.  The hole has to be much bigger than that.  My cup was almost empty when I dumped it into the sink.  A pinhole couldn’t possibly do that.  Never the less that is exactly what happened.  Considering what a pinhole did to my cup and its contents, I began translating that into my life.  I have learned the lesson of the pinholes.  

Life is amazing.  There is not a person who hasn’t witnessed something truly miraculous in their lifetime.  Maybe it is the birth of a baby.  It could be an amazing sight in nature.  Suppose it is a car wreck where everyone walks away when they shouldn’t.  It might even be the words I love you from someone you thought that you would never hear it from.  I am always amazed at the experiences that are offered to every person.  Some are wonderful and others are tragic, but each experience places its mark on the person experiencing it.  Most of us walk through life doing more than surviving.  We find bits of happiness, joy, and laughter.  We also find bits of sadness, sorrow, and despair.  I like to call these unpleasant parts, pinholes.

Isn’t it crazy how the sadness, sorrow, and despair can take over every rational thought that you have.  It can consume you.  These times place tiny holes into the person that you are.  We are kind of like a pincushion.  Someone says something that hurts your feelings and you feel the pin pushing its way in.  You are overlooked for your achievements and you feel another prick of the pin.   Someone you love looks at you and tells you that you aren’t enough and once again you feel a pin.  You walk down the street and look over to see someone else with what you want and guess what another pin slips through.  Over time, your life is filled with little pinholes.  Knowing what the pinhole did to the liquid in my cup, imagine what the pinholes in your life will do.  You begin leaking out.  These holes in your life cause disruption and grief.  They bring longing and anguish.  You wrap your arms around your life and brace yourself for the next onslaught of pins.  In other words, you get prepared.

While you spend time preparing, you also spend time trying to fix the holes.  Some holes close with time, some remain small, but some of them get bigger and bigger until they seem too big to ever be filled.  You try to fix the holes with something.  For some people, it's the use drugs and alcohol.  Others use a man or a woman.  Some find work will fill the empty spaces.  Many fill the holes with things, others with food.  See these holes have left you feeling incomplete.  You feel like you aren’t enough and you have to find a way to fix that.  We all want to be enough.  We all want to be considered.  We all desire to love and be loved.   We all have wants and needs and we find ways to get them met.  We also look for instant gratification.  We can’t stand to wait and pray through.  We want to feel better right now.

Any Christian will tell you that the hardest part of being a Christian is letting God be God.  Letting Him have complete control of your life and trusting that He will see you through.  I have watched God heal people from cancer.  I have seen Him give children to those who thought they couldn’t.  I have even known that He was with me in times of grief.  However, there are still pinholes in my life and because of them I feel like I have failed in so many ways.  If I were living well enough or doing enough, God would deliver me.  He would fill all of my holes and then I would feel complete.  Why then do I still seek other things to fill me?  Why do I still struggle with pinholes that have been in my life for years?  Why hasn’t God answered those prayers for me that I have prayed time and again?

I have no perfect answer, but this.  God’s timing is not mine.  He loves me unconditionally and wants what is best for me.  He cares enough to know my name and He understands every hurt that I have.  He is my deliverer and comforter.  He is the one that I need.  When you look at me, the best parts are Him.  I have asked the Lord for many things in my life.  All of which He answered whether I liked the answer or not.  He has blessed me with more than I will ever deserve and He continues to provide what no one else can.

So here I sit full of holes and once again I am asking God to fill them.  I know that He wants to fill me up with His goodness and love.  I know that when I let Him have control that He goes above and beyond what I ever imagined.  He has offered mercy.  He has offered forgiveness.  He has offered grace.  My prayer is that as I ask God for help that I will give Him time to work in my life.  I want Him to permanently fill the pinholes that life has left me with.  I want to know that I honor Him with my life and that when I let go and let God, He will do great things.

:o)

My Eyelashes are Going Bald!

That is right.  I am loosing my eyelashes at a very fast rate.  I noticed it this morning when I began to put mascara on.  Usually, I can run the brush through them about 3 times and have a very nice layer of black mascara that makes my eyelashes look thicker than they actually are.  This morning, however, I spent about 10 minutes reapplying the black to my eyelashes and it still looked like I barely had any mascara on.

I will admit to spending very little time looking in the mirror at my appearance.  My routine consists of applying make-up, brushing and drying my hair, putting on my clothes, and looking once to make sure everything is complete.  Rarely do I put something on and take it off for something else.  I generally only purchase clothes that I really like and that makes my getting ready so much easier.  For the ladies who spend hours looking in the mirror at their fine lines and wrinkles, I feel for you.  I honestly do not know if I have any wrinkles because I just don't pay enough attention.  In my mind, I look so much better than I actually do so it is much easier to spend as little time as possible memorizing what I really look like.  So here I am dipping my mascara brush into the tube and reapplying it to my eyes over and over and still not seeing a difference.  I suddenly begin to fret and that is when I realize that I must be going bald. My eyelashes are disappearing rapidly.  They were fine last Sunday and one week later, they are gone.

After struggling with this for at least 10 minutes or possibly less, I realized that it is almost time for me to trade in my old mascara tube for a new one.  In fact, I have one ready in the bathroom vanity.  So now I'm wondering if my eyelashes are going bald or if I just need to open a new tube of mascara.  I will be completely honest and say that I was saddened by the balding eyelashes as I made my way to church this morning.  If my eyelashes are going bald, it must mean that my lips are about to disappear, crows feet are about to appear, and wrinkles could be only days away.  I'm keeping my fingers crossed that the new tube of mascara will be the answer to my eyelashes.  We shall see in a few weeks when it is "time" to open up the fresh container.

;o)