The Good Fight

If there's anything I've learned these last couple of years, it's that there's a time to fight and there's a time to surrender. When I was young, I was content being obedient to the authorities over me. Secure, happy, free. My world was a safe place. After the very naive years came the gradual encroachment of what it meant to fight, to face the challenges of life with strength. I was blessed to have folks who taught me how to box in life's ring, to rise above what I thought I was capable of. My parents, teachers, coaches, relatives who loved me...though looking back, I know that my Dad and Mom were marching to the beat of a different drum. They were not willing to sashay through this world without some sort of fortitude behind them. They appeared simple, but there were always noble purposes behind their actions. Nothing was done lightly -- their rules were few but profoundly enforced. I don't think they ever realized the beautiful wake they were leaving behind them. Through their uncomplicated and transparent lives, they changed the world. No magazine covers or paparazzi, just the profound influence that good people can have on those coming behind.

Surrender may be the hardest part of all. I have a bad tooth, don't ask me why. I have always been faithful to brush and floss and see the dentist. But I have a big ole molar that's gotta come out sooner than later. That's irrevocable. You can't re-grow those things. There will be a giant gap back in there that will take thousands of dollars to dress up with a fake tooth that will probably always feel weird. I was struck with the fact that there are plenty of things that start going downhill when you start wearing out. Going downhill is bad enough, but when it's just over, that's another thing. There's no pushups or supplements to fix it. Life is like that. There's a day, whether it's quick or super slow, when we're going to die. Irrevocable. There's often a lot of sluggish increments in between hearty and our demise. Here's to sucking the marrow out of each and every one of them. I don't think I'm inclined to go gently into that night, even though I'm gonna wake up like a new penny on the other side.

Paintball Wars

It was Christmas Eve and I had not bought my four children one gift. Not one. We only had a foot-high Christmas tree with teeny-tiny ornaments on it. What in the world?! It was one of the years (there were two, mind you) when we lived in an old, rusty camper and built our house, with our own hands. I like to draw all this out, because I (and we) want credit. You don't do crazy things like that and just act like it didn't happen. 

But there I found myself, tired and worn out from extreme efforts. Christmas gifts seemed irrelevant, in view of the 1400 square feet of tile that I still had to lay. I loved my children and couldn't let them miss the holiday, so I left them with Pa in the camper and said I'd be back. In a few minutes, I pulled into a Christmas tree lot and saw the pitiful leavings that the Grinch had left behind. There was one, however, that had a beautiful shape. I asked the guy how much and he said, "Fifty dollars." I offered him five, and he had mercy and strapped it to the roof. I drove to the Kmart and bought a few boxes of lights and simple ornaments. As I searched the toy department, my eyes lit upon the perfect gifts for the boys: paintball guns. I knew they would be over the moon when they opened them. I got a menagerie of fun things for Liz, and then headed home. While I wrapped gifts, the kids and Ken nailed the tree to the floor in our half-finished house. We strung lights and hung the ornaments in record time and it was pronounced the best tree ever. Christmas was epic that year, and everyone crowed over their gifts.

Paintball became an art form with our boys. Their fame grew with friends and family as their fearless forays into battle spawned legends. I was told that they were plumb scary when they played. So one afternoon I thought I'd join them and see what all the fuss was about. We all suited up with headgear and guns and headed out into the woods in front of our house. I had never played anything like this, but I was a good shot so I figured it would be easy to learn. Our teams ran to their hiding places. I found a huge oak tree to hide behind. The tension was high as I peered slowly around to find the enemy. As I felt the splat of a paintball against my poor temple, stars began spinning and I thought I saw Elvis. I am ashamed to say, I handed my gun to Pa and said, "Ya'll have fun. I'm outa here!" And that was my long and storied career as a paintball player. I'm pretty sure my kids could've started a war and held off Genghis Khan with those things.

A Very Big Day

We were tired and very hungry. It was a whole carload of sassy, Southern women, plus one astute 6-year-old. We'd been shopping for my daughter's wedding dress. It was the iconic day that most girls dream about all their lives. We went into a shop, where the vibe was rather subdued and elegant, something that our family is not. Nobody seemed to be whoopin' and hollerin' when they found their dresses. We sat in very uncomfortable chairs and gave our opinions. For the life of me, I couldn't figure out why they were putting her in dresses virtually twice her size and then cinching the back of it with what looked like giant clothespins. Didn't they carry dresses in her size? My daughter-in-loves told me that this is how it's done. You figure out which one you like, even if you can't for sure tell what it's going to look like...then you order it in your size. And then when it gets here, you send it back for more alterations. I'm getting dizzy at this point. Liz wasn't loving anything they brought out, even though I cried a bit. Just seeing her up there the first time, my baby girl, in a wedding dress...my heart jumped and the tears followed. As a Mama, you pray for your children to find a good, honest soul to marry. Our job is to raise them and then let them go. I've had a long spell with this child, enjoying every day with her. Her fiance is an angel, loving and kind and he loves Jesus even more than he loves her. Her three brothers married early. She's not shipping off to Cuba, but it's that last tether that's difficult to surrender, hard as it is to admit. But this is what we raised her for -- to find her own wings and fly. She's a good gal, sassy, strong, sweet and calm at the same time. If I was ordering up a daughter, she'd be it. Not everyone gets that lucky.

At the second bridal shop, the whole vibe changed. There were five hundred people in there (it seemed), lots of mayhem and lots of dresses. Our saleslady was energetic and had been around the block a few times. We squeezed in tight as Liz modeled several gorgeous samples. On her last one, she turned, smiled, kept turning. The gals and I secretly hoped she wanted this one. We knew it was right when she started crying. There were bells to ring and lots of whoopin' going on. Happy day.

We finally headed south to go back home. The news reported tornado-type weather headed our way. Even though we were starving, we decided to try to hoof it back to Villa Rica before it hit. Halfway there, the bottom fell out. Little Annabelle was afraid, as the wind whipped around my car and the rain began to flood the roads. She piped up and said, "Liz, how come you're not driving?" Someone asked her why she wasn't okay with Yaya taking her home. She said, "She's driving us right into the storm! And she can't see!" We all howled as we inched our way through the mess. God spared us another day and we met up with the boys at Brother's Steakhouse in VR. There was dancing, karaoke, and lots of food. Sometimes you just have to celebrate, and there were plenty of reasons for that.

Winter, Oh Winter...

I forgot about puppies. They are cute, fluffy, inquisitive, cuddly, and oh, that breath! They are also destructive, demanding and like to poop a lot. And you have to catch them before they do it on your new living room rug. Not to mention the disruption of taking him out at all hours of the night, with the miserable cold and rain... Last evening, my body decided that all the things inside it needed to be on the outside. A stomach virus, courtesy of my grandkids. I've not felt this much misery in a long time, what with the whining dog and the bellyache all at the same time. But he sure is adorable. And that's a good thing for him.

In the annals of Norton, this was a banner week. We got a puppy and a new future son-in-law. Our daughter got engaged, the last of our four children. The other three were sons, so their weddings were not as daunting. This, however, is a three-ring circus. My daughter and I are fanatics about decorating and colors and all-the-party-things. We've got five months and lots of swatches to moon over. We'll be calling in markers from all the other events we've helped with, praying that we'll marshal an army big enough to pull this off. We don't pay people to do things....we're old-school DIYers. I may be prejudiced, but our family nuptials beat those pre-made, canned ones to death. But this one may be the demise of me. I think I need to start actually showing up at that gym where they extract money from our bank every month.

2020 is here, like a newly-minted penny. Real estate is typically slow around the holidays, so I'm feeling like a bloated walrus right about now, even though I'm actually pounds lighter, due to my good diet. But vacating too much leaves me floating listlessly in my proverbial pool and it's time to get busy. My desk is suffering under piles of books, bills and mail. Maybe I'll start tackling that tomorrow, if my stomach (and the puppy) cooperate. There's a wedding this summer and spring is not entirely too far away. Hope springs eternal!