Keather & Henda

Last night, I was asked that if I ever blogged about my two best friends that I would change the names to protect the innocent. Ha! That’s a laugh! Innocent? If they were innocent, we probably wouldn’t be best friends!

Anywho, that request inspired me to write a little about my friends: Keather & Henda.  We have been friends since the beginning of the earth. No, seriously. We graduated together in 1990, so you could truthfully say that we have been friends since The Big Bangs! (geez, I crack me up!)

Keather has been married to her high-school sweetheart for forever. She is a serious mama bear and not just for her own kids - although as Mr. T would say, “I pity the fool” – but for every kid. She has more integrity than I do. There is right and wrong and to her, really life would be easier if you just chose the right. Otherwise she will call you on it and not mince words. I respect that. I also know that she puts on a tough front, but is pretty much a big ol’ softy. I relate to that. She is very artistic. She has an eye for detail and the things she creates are beautiful.

Henda never takes herself too seriously. I love this because it is something I struggle with. She has a positive outlook on life and because of that, broken people and weirdos (inside joke) are drawn to her. She is kind and she always gives people the benefit of the doubt. Don’t be fooled, she is no push-over! As a single mom, I have never once heard her complain about the hardships. For the longest time, she worked two jobs and I would bet her kids have never wanted for anything. She is so laid back and yet when I compare myself to her, I feel lazy.  She also has a knack for remembering dates and people and she will drive across the whole country to visit with an old friend.

When the three of us get together, no topic is off-limits. Nothing is too nosy. Or disgusting. We have talked about every taboo thing from bank balances to which liquor makes you poop. I know their hopes, their dreams, their fears, their faith and their scars. And they know mine. We have held each other up during some of life's really big girl problems and called each other out on other minor whiny things. I am so thankful and blessed to have them in my life.



Love y'all mucho!!

Chicks Dig ...

Chicks dig scars? Nah. One scroll through Facebook early on a weekend morning (before the chicks are awake and deleting emotional, angry, sometimes drunken posts) and you will notice very quickly that chicks dig losers. It's pretty obvious and it's really sad. I think a lot of the time the tenderness that is female clouds our judgment. We see this troubled guy, misunderstood really, and we think we can help him. We, with our charm and pure hearts, can save him. When I was a teen (a long, long time ago in a land far, far away) I heard Dawson McAllister speak at a youth rally. He warned against what he called "Missionary Dating". Missionary dating is dating someone who is not a Christian and justifying it by thinking the relationship will bring that person to Christ. It never seems to work that way. In fact, it usually works the other way, even dating a genuinely good lost person; the "missionary" will be led astray. I've done it and I've watched friends do it, too.

[NOTE: there is a HUGE difference in being kind to someone and extending Christian love & acceptance which we are called to do and dating them. You know it. I know it. Don't go all peace and love and whatever feels right on me.]

I love that quote. It has been attributed to both Maya Angelou and Max Lucado. I really wish that was reality, but I feel that many girls of dating age lack the spiritual maturity for that sentiment. In other words, that seems like a pretty lame plan to a boy-crazy, hormone-driven chick. I totally get it. I mean it wasn't THAT "long, long" ago! So, I have come up with some ways for chicks to recognize the losers. Warning signs to make you stop in the name of love and just think it through!

1. Stop in the name of love if he ever, ever asks you to lie. A person who has nothing to hide will not need to lie and a guy with good intentions will not need for you to lie either.

2. Stop in the name of love if he spends more time inside on the computer or playing video games than outside doing something active. It speaks to his work ethic.

3. Speaking of work ethic, stop in the name of love if he should have a job and doesn't. If he tells you he is looking for a job, but isn't concerned about it or hasn't left his couch in two days he is not serious. Do not, I repeat, DO NOT give this guy any money!

4. Stop in the name of love if he is EVER, EVER, EVER abusive. EVER. He may be truly sorry and he may have a hundred reasons how he just lost control, or how you drove him crazy, or how it will never happen again. It does not matter. Get out, get away and never look back. Pray for him. Maybe one day he will change, let him prove that to the next girl.

5. Stop in the name of love if he is a teenaged father or if he is an adult who pays (or should pay!) child support to more than one woman. I am not judging. Things happen and some choices can't be un-made. I am saying there is a whole lot of drama with the mother, father, child relationship and you really, really need to count the cost.

6. Stop in the name of love if he has tattoos or body piercings that make him un-hirable for a real job (a job that does not need to be supplemented to pay for living expenses). I am all for self-expression, but I am also all for being self-reliant and able to provide for your family.

7. Stop in the name of love if he has bad table manners or is unable to dress for a certain occasion (funeral, wedding, interview) and doesn't seem to care. He may just be rough around the edges, but he also may lack the social skills a person needs to get through life. Think it through.

8. Finally, stop in the name of love if you notice that every fun activity needs to start with or include drinking. I am not a T-totaler by a long shot, but I have noticed that people who don't know how to have fun unless they are drinking are sometimes actually not very fun people.

A New Mattress and More Bras

This past week we were on vacation. Every year we try to get down to the coast. It is our happy place. We love the sounds, the sights, the smell and even the sand. Most people might not enjoy the way we do the beach, but we have a system in place that works for us.

Last year, we did not get the healing we were searching. While we were gone, my husband’s mother had to be moved to an assisted living facility, we were short-handed at work, short on funds, and in general plain old short tempered. I guess, deep down we knew that we were not coming home to good things although I don’t think we could have guessed how the next year would test us. Still, when we left the beach it was like an emotional and physical loss.

Fourteen days after we got back from vacation my mother-in-law passed away. If that weren't enough, there was major drama involving our careers that left us feeling very insecure and my husband broke a tooth that required minor dental surgery. We spent the next weeks facing tough challenges: realizing that selling my husband’s childhood home was our only option, clearing out his mother’s things, working extra to prove our loyalty to our employer, having an estate sale…The estate sale was excruciating. It was emotionally taxing and labor intensive and when it was over, four completely drained adults sat in the floor of an empty house and wept like children. Two days later, we got the call that my husband’s grandmother (the one who helped raise him) had passed away. Another funeral, more sorrow, and more things to treasure all the while painfully aware that the person would be preferred over the things. The process of selling the house and the year of firsts without these beautiful, wonderful women took up the rest of the year. Just when things would start to almost feel normal again, a new thing to face would come along. The same week the sale of the house was final, a sweet cousin passed away and her memorial service was held on the one year anniversary of my mother-in-law’s death.

As vacation time drew nearer I was cautious. We needed rest, renewal and revival, and that’s a lot of pressure to put on a vacation.

We had certainly put in the sweat and tears and now it was time for the sea.

One thing I love about going to the coast is that even though I am there with the man of my dreams, I get a lot of alone time to think and read and write. We nerds really dig that!

Lakota waiting for Mark to get up and play.

On the first morning we were there, I wrote some poetry, which I like, but don’t love. Then, as a life-long list maker finding her center, I also started a list. A list of things I want. At first, the list was very short: a new mattress and more bras. I was struck by how pitiful my desires and limited my dreams had become. See, after a year like we had, you get "gun shy" about hope. This awareness made me a sad, so I pondered and prayed and after a while, I started adding to the list. Now, I am excited about making things happen, exploring new goals, learning, traveling, etc.

So, back to the original two items on my list, (I bet you thought I’d NEVER get this wagon circled back around!) a new mattress and more bras. I really do need those things. I will start saving as mattresses are expensive and I will probably make a trip to the store very soon for the latter. I guess I just find it ironic or humorous or interesting that a year later here I am, still needing comfort and support. (Get it?!?) I am so thankful for each person who has walked with us, prayed for us, cried with us, listened, and loved on us this last year. We can never express what it meant. Lycra and Memory Foam ain’t got nothing on y’all!

And yes, we did enjoy our time by the sea!!!

It was 6:17 AM...

Let me start this story by saying I'm a big chicken. At 6:17AM my bladder overruled the "But it's Saturday" argument. As I was coming back to bed I noticed that the light from outside was strange. The color wasn't right and neither was the time of day for it to be the sun. Half asleep. Oh, well. Climb back into bed, fluff the pillow, hear a THUMP in the kitchen. Back up. Go investigate. Now, that "strange" light shining in the kitchen windows looks like headlights. Groan. "Who is here at this time of morning?!" I get to the back door and realize that the dog pen flood lights are on. Dang goat!...well, most likely, but ...the light switch is outside and I am barefoot so that's gonna have to stay on (good of an excuse as any!) I turn around with my flashlight and find the kitchen trash is knocked over and the cat is rummaging through, explaining the thump sound I heard earlier...or does it?...I have seen enough horror movies to know that there is a pretty good chance it ain't the cat. Heck, I've even yelled it out to the main character, "IT AIN'T THE CAT YOU BIG DUMMY!" to no avail as the people in movies never listen. However, I am sleepy, the dog seems satisfied with the cat/goat theory, and I don't hear creepy music in the background so I head back to bed. I get all covered up and snuggled back down and start to drift back to sleep. Suddenly, there is a CLICK and the whole room is washed in a bright blue light. I throw back the covers, possibly use profanity, and find that the blasted TV has turned itself on again. Even the dog has a "Holy Crap!" look on her face. I scramble to find the remote and click it off...and so THAT'S how I came to be sitting up in bed holding a firearm before daylight this morning...

For those wondering about where my husband was when the boogy man was lurking, let me tell you about how the chores are divided on the Rancho de Oehler. Mark-o rides night guard - responsible for varmits, storm watching, stampedes, and Indian raids. I ride the last guard and jingle up the cats, heat the iron and stoke the cook fire - or as I like to call it, the microwave...

Happy Saturday, to all!