to dress or not to dress

dear emily,

my son isaac returned from visiting his grandfather in the
hospital with a funny story.  we need all the laughs we can get,
and i bet you do, too.

isaac was wearing a lovely checked, buttoned down, and tucked
in shirt, straight from church.   his grandmother did not think he
was dressed up enough, however.   she has been putting on hose,
high heels and a beautiful suit every sunday for eight weeks . . .
then marching up to the ICU to sit with her beloved husband.

she said, "my mother always taught me that you must dress up
for church, because even if you don't go to church, people will
see you and think you did . . . and that will make them feel bad."

hee hee!

love,
lea

"therefore i tell you, do not worry about your life, . . . what you
will wear.  is not life more important then food, and the body
more important than clothes?"  matthew 6:25

and now a word from our sponsor

dear emily,

a year ago my friend patricia shared a definition for being offended:
the bright light hurts.  another friend and i were then talking about
how much angrier we get when our loved ones have been treated
harshly than when we are treated that way.

we're taking up an offense on their behalf, shining a bright light on
behavior we find reprehensible.  and you know who that hurts?  us.

when i was a little girl, my grandmother used to love her 'stories'
which were really soap operas.    i thought they were silly, but
occasionally i would get drawn in when a pretty lady would shout
at a handsome man for something i didn't understand.  right then at
the most interesting part, the program would transition to a boring
commercial, and a voice would say, "and now a word from our
sponsor."

sometimes my family has felt like that soap opera, pretty woman
yelling at handsome man.  :)  when i was terribly discouraged,
then i would hear a word from my Sponsor, "He who began a
good work in you, will carry it on to completion until the day of
Christ Jesus."  philippians 1:6

love,
lea

ps.  this is an edited post from a couple of years ago.

the sooner nation

thank you, sonja and janette, for having a little fun with our great

football game.  i can't think of a bigger competition, maybe ohio

state and michigan, or the presidential election!

janette has shared an inspiring story about her love for UT, and

she has the temerity to ask, "what is a sooner anyway?"  i'm glad

she asked.

'sooners' is the name given to the settlers who entered the midwest 

in the unassigned territory of oklahoma before the indian appro-

priations act of 1989.  they were denied the right to claim the land 

on which they settled, because they cheated by sneaking in early.   

many 'sooners'  eventually became US marshals, which is ironic

considering they had broken the law themselves.   my husband's

great grandfather was one of those US marshals, which explains

some of my husband's own tendencies.

the 'sooner nation' is exemplified by our colorful, rambunctious,

victorious behavior on the football field.  we occasionally sneak

into the end zone.

class dismissed,

lea

"all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God."   romans 3:23

boomer!

dear janette and sonja,

i never enjoyed football until i had honest to goodness
texan friends.  so here is my challenge to you:

if texas gets closer than this:

OU 37
TEXAS 21

i will send you each some oatmeal chocolate chip cookies.

if texas wins (which ain't gonna' happen,)
i will post a picture of myself wearing a
longhorn t shirt and some chaps.  i may
even get on a horse or something.

Now, what are you ladies willing to do when OU wins?

love,
lea

"seek the Lord and his strength;
seek his presence continually."
1 chronicles 16:11

that's a lie!

as i was sitting beside my father in law's hospital bed, i found a
copy of the "new yorker" magazine.  before i ever read those, i
thumb through to see the hilarious cartoons.  the first one i saw
depicted a "blog pie chart."

google image

i was a little downcast, because i knew just what third i fit in.  i
don't sell anything, and even though i love the movie, conspiracy 
theory, i'm not into writing about them.  my stories clearly fall into
the first group . . . boring, boring, boring.

so i decided to shut down the old blog, but then i read a couple of
the blogs i love.   each one shared an inspiring story that burrowed
into my heart.

why in the world did i let the new yorker influence me in even the
smallest way?  i only read it once every ten years or so.   and why
do i still, at 53, care what other people say?  when am i going to
grow up?  who cares if i'm boring?

boring is the new black.

love,
lea

"we do not dare to classify or compare ourselves with some who
commend themselves.  when they measure themselves by them-
selves and compare themselves with themselves, they are not
wise."  2 corinthians 10:12

broken windows

dear emily,

my father in law has a gorgeous bathroom/dressing room.  his
walls are decorated with gigantic photos of my mother in law
from her movie star days and floor to ceiling mirrors.  no one,
especially grandchildren have been allowed to step onto the
thick, black carpet or into the shrine unless escorted by their
grandfather.

the top of his lovely teak dressing table is graced by favorite
memorabilia like dozens of tiny screwdrivers and caterpillar
tractors.  i used to sneak peaks at the incredible order and beauty
of this special place until a few days ago when one of the giant
mirrors fell from the wall and crashed upon everything.

it reminded me of the 'broken windows' theory coined by james
q.wilson and george kelling.  they believe that crime is attracted
by disorder.  if a neighborhood tolerates panhandling, graffiti,
or broken windows, then worse behavior follows.  one broken
window calls out to another.  on the other hand, if a neighbor-
hood vigilantly watches over its borders and keeps things orderly,
crime goes elsewhere.   (the tipping point, malcom gladwell)

can you believe the broken mirror occurred three weeks after he
broke his hip?  he has been fighting for his health for six weeks
now, but the hip is mending nicely.  we don't want his other limbs
getting any 'broken window' ideas!

love,
lea

ps.  my friend sandra from thistle cove farms, recently reminded
me of a beloved verse:  "see, I have engraved you on the palms
of my hands; your walls are ever before me."  isaiah 49:16

first baby

dear emily,

when our first baby boy was born, my mom gave me some oscar
de la renta lotion.  i remember thinking, "now he will know i'm
his mommy, because i will always smell like this."  i wasn't
allowed to nurse him or hold him.

the NICU nurse told us we must not even touch him, as it could
agitate him and deflate his lungs again.   my heart broke as i stood
beside his pathetic little body, arms and legs splayed out, purple
chest sinking to the mattress, tubes connected in too many places.

i couldn't imagine that his tiny hand holding my baby finger might
upset him; so i disobeyed.   all day long, every day for 12 days, i
stood with my back to the nurses and my finger in his hand.  my
whole life was in that precious hand.

by the 12th day his lungs had strengthened, and  a nurse informed
us that they had been slowly reducing his sedative.  she could tell
he was more alert,  because he grasped her finger for the first
time.  :)

"now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what
we do not see."  hebrews 11:1

that baby boy is the big guy on the right!

love,
lea