I Paint...

Young Allie: Painting.
Young Noah: What?
Young Allie: You asked me, what I do for me...
Young Noah: What now?
Young Allie: I love to paint.
Young Noah: Really?
Young Allie: Mmm-hmm. Most of the time I have all these thoughts bouncin' around in my head... but with a brush in my hand, the world just gets kinda quiet.


~The Notebook



The past few months I’ve had all kinds of thoughts bouncin’ round in my head…just like Young Allie in the Notebook. I need a break… call in sick… I like to call them Mental Health Days… you know the days that you call in sick to work, when you really aren’t sick at t’all… but it’s cold outside or rainy or perhaps it’s sunny…but it doesn’t really matter… because your mind just can’t seem to stop bouncin… and you have no motivation to try to contain all those thoughts … or… organize them into something that makes sense… Those are my kind of days… the days I can pick up a paintbrush without anything in mind and let my mind carry me away to some distant far off place where the world IS quiet…where the world doesn’t have to make sense… where time and space do not exist. I love those moments… I love to paint... and when I’ve done just too much for everyone else around me and need to escape… I paint… just me… I paint.

March 19, 2000

I remember the details of this day like it was yesterday…it is still all so surreal. It was a day that changed many lives forever - a day friendships stood firm - a day of overwhelming grief - a day that changed my view on life forever. It was the day I realized how short life really is, and that we really only have a vapor of time to make a difference.

It was Sunday afternoon about 1:00 pm on March 19, 2000. My ‘then husband’ and I had just returned home from church, put our daughters (then, ages 2 ½ and five months old) down for a nap. It’s a beautiful spring sunny day outside, but all I can think about is my plush pillow top bed after the horrible night’s sleep I had the night before from being up with my five month old.

My ‘then’ husband was downstairs on the computer. Both daughters were asleep. The house was quiet…

The phone rang…

In that moment life changed forever…

Our pastor called looking for my dear friend, Carol. Her husband was currently on a mission’s trip in Iceland and he needed to reach her immediately. He knew Carol and I were close friends. He knew my ‘then’ husband and her husband David were best friends. He knew I would know how to reach her. But he would not tell me why.
Perplexed and knowing something was wrong… we hung up as he tried to locate her by calling someone else.

The phone rings again…

His unsuccessful attempt to locate Carol led him back to me. He proceeds to tell me that we must find Carol immediately. I explained to him – again - that I thought she was getting Easter pictures made of the girls at the mall…reaching her would be difficult.
He then tells me David had a heart attack. He was in the middle of drumming the song, “I Walk by Faith” at a church in Iceland when the drums stopped and he slumped over. That was it. Just like that. In a matter of seconds he went from praising God here on earth, to praising Him at the foot of his glorious throne.

In that moment life changed.

Forever.

My dear friend Carol was left to raise three daughters and was pregnant with their fourth. David was always so proud of his little harem, but he would never lay eyes on Anna.

I was with Carol and helped hold her up when our pastor told her the news.

I was in her living room looking for the phone book while she took Ashley (her nine year old) up stairs to tell her that her daddy had died. I cringed as that little girl wailed her heart out as her mother held her in her arms. I took Tara outside so she wouldn’t hear what was going on and get scared.

I stayed by her side for the next days, which turned into weeks, and then into months, and finally years. I helped her get all the paperwork and ugly details taken care of, like getting on food stamps (she did not work – she had 3 children – she was pregnant with her 4th) - I helped her get Social Security – I helped her finalize her tax returns – I helped her budget and think through going back to school.

I was there when she gave birth to Anna, an incredibly tender moment - a moment that we all wished her father could be present to witness. A moment we all cried as Anna breathed in her first breath of life.

I helped Carol box up David’s clothes. I helped her sell his drum equipment. I cried with her as we pulled out the Christmas lights for the Christmas tree and saw how he had neatly labeled each strand on where it belonged.

I was there the day the U-Haul pulled up to load all her belongs into the truck. I kept busy…vacuuming and wiping down window seals… grieving in my own small way over my dear friend moving… but knowing the whole time it was for the best. She needed to be close to her parents now.

She and I had become like sisters. Our daughters were like sisters. People must have thought we were crazy when the two of us showed up at the park or pool with six girls! But… the time was here. The time for her to move on. For me to move on. She asked me to do her one favor - to keep flowers on the grave every March.

Even now that she has moved away and remarried – and I have divorced... remarried... seperated... we can still pick up the phone after months of not talking and pick up right where we left off.

Yep… a rare find.

A life giving – life taking – life sustaining relationship.

Each year on March 19th, I take flowers to David’s gravesite for Carol and the girls. Each year in March as the tulips are bursting and the daffodils are waking to life, I take a moment to realize how short this life on earth really is. And I remind myself to live it to the fullest. To take time to make a difference. To take time to touch a life… for in the end, it’s the lives we touch that matter. I remind myself to slow down… smell the flowers… follow a butterfly's flutter… and stare at a few stars…

The essence of a man is 'Strength'...

I originally wrote this blog back in August of 2006. A fellow blogger poised a question to any other bloggers who would dare to answer...


His question: "So I'm reading this Christian book about being a strong man and it talks about strength. But I see men who are 'spiritual' and they seem like wimps to me. I don't want to forfeit my manly hood... is this really what a woman want?"


AJ - Here's my two cents for what it's worth...

“Isn’t this what makes our hearts beat more quickly, our knees weak when we watch Daniel Day Lewis in The Last of the Mohicans, William Wallace in Braveheart, Aragorn in The Lord of the Rings, or Harrison Ford in nearly any of his movies? Isn’t that what we, as women, long to experience from our man, and from the men in our lives? To experience the strength of a man is to have him speak on our behalf. For when men abuse with words, we are pierced. Their strength has wounded us. When they are silent, we are starved. They have offered no strength; they have abandoned us. But when they speak with us, hear us, offer their words to us and on our behalf, something in our hearts is able to rest. We long for the protection masculine strength offers. To have them shield us from physical harm, yes. But also to have them shield us from emotional harm and spiritual attack.”

~from ‘Captivating’… by Stasi and John Eldridge

YES! YES! YES! AJ!

A man is supposed to be burly and wild…That’s okay – personally, I find it incredibly sexy!

However strength in a man is not just physical and I believe you are confusing the two.

A man is supposed to be strong – the warrior, the protector. But a man shows even more strength when he is able to practice self-discipline with his words and not be abusive. He is even stronger when he contains his strength and power without blowing it out physically on a woman or child. He is a protector. If he doesn’t channel his God-given strength in this way, he is weak. He is weak at heart if he feels the only way he can be a man is to exert his strength forcibly onto a woman. On the same token… a man that is passive or sits aside idly as women take charge is just as repulsive, in my opinion. To not use this gift of manhood to its fullest potential would be quite a shame.

He is even stronger and more attractive when he steps OUT of his element - his natural tendencies to be brash – and set aside his desires for those he loves… For a man-I think- desires the sensual touch of a woman-the nurturing aspect of a relationship that come some so easily for most women.

I believe women want to be chased… pursued… it’s the fairytale we’ve all dreamed of… We want a man who is strong enough to pursue and protect us and strong enough to not give in to the lie that if you show emotion, love, cry, embrace or are passionate that you are not a man…I think a man that CAN do this and maintain his burly nature, is the strongest of ALL men. A man that can feel comfortable in his natural manly state, yet understand a woman and the value she brings. A man that can recognize the balance between the sexes and fulfill his duties of the weighed balance scale without counterbalancing it... now that is strength.

A man or a woman can be great by themselves; however, the two together can unleash all types of power and passion on every level…physically, emotionally and spiritually.

Just my two cents, but remember, I'm insane! LOL!

Thursday August 31, 2006 - 12:33pm (CDT)

The story you are about to read is based on actual events. The characters are real people, not actors.

About nine years ago, I had a newborn and 3 year old at home. Life was a little insane to say the least. Trying to manage the two, along with my ‘not-so-organized’ life had its moments. One of my bad habits was/is to drop my clothes in the floor and let the dirty laundry pile up. (Still working on it…)

One afternoon after being a bum watching soaps, eating bon-bons, and entertaining my two babes under the age of three… I decide I needed to go to the grocery store before hubby got home. I had less than 30 minutes to go and get back.

I ran upstairs, found the shorts from yesterday on the floor (still clean) and threw them on with my T-Shirt… my fat T-shirt, since I had just had a baby and was feeling fat. I threw the kids in their car seats, grabbed my purse, and dashed out the door to the store.

I parked, got out and proceeded to go to the back car doors to unbuckle my babes. I notice these two young handsome guys staring at me. They had to be in their 20’s (which I was not). My ego immediately sky-rocketed. I start to think, “Man, I do still have it!” Knowing my legs and ‘back-side’ are my best assets; I work it as I unbuckle my babies. I grab the nearest shopping cart and load them up. The guys are still gawking and smiling. (Think to self: “man – I must be HOTTTT!). Strutting into the grocery store, kids in tow, a woman out of no where comes up to me… she says, “excuse me ma’am… you have a pair of underwear stuck to the butt of your shorts…just thought I’d let you know before you walk in the grocery store.”

Talk about an ego deflator! I wanted to die! At this moment I’m standing in front of the sliding doors of the busiest supermarket in our area. There are (what felt like) hundreds of people going in and out of the store. I casually reach behind me and grab the panties that are stuck to my shorts and place them in my purse…

Oh, and to think I thought I was HOT! LOL!

What’s your most embarrassing moment??? Oh, do tell. Come sit for a minute and share it with me!