Merry Christmas to Me

So, I haven't written about this as my mom reads my blog and I didn't want to spoil anything for her. But this Christmas proved the very best Christmas of all and here is why:

Darian came home from Bolivia to surprise everyone here in the States...

... and surprise everyone she did.

Darian and I? We pulled it off.

Back in October, Darian told me she wanted to come home if tickets were reasonable. And believe it or not, they were! I got her a ticket to Asheville and on December 13, she flew in at 11:30 p.m. Nobody in my family knew it except for me. Really. I deserve an award.

Now the picking her up at the airport at 11:30 part was tricky. That meant I had to leave the house to pick her up long after my bedtime without Roy being suspicious. I pondered that one for quite some time before I happened upon a plan that included Tammy Vaughan having a meltdown and needing my assistance at her house as Bob was gone to a convention.

It was a straight up lie. But? Considering the circumstances, it was justified.

And so, Sunday night at 10:00 I was hanging in the man's cave (with Roy) in my pajamas, freshly showered with wet hair--looking beautiful, of course--when the texts from Tammy started piling in. She was in the midst of emotional chaos due to a chain of events that she could not control and she was spiraling quickly, as evidenced by the frantic texts. And so, I started the conversation..."Uh-oh...Tammy's upset." Roy seemed unfazed.

A bit later..."Oh wow..."

A few seconds later..."Hey, Roy...Tammy is really upset. I think I need to go over to her house for a bit as Bob is gone to a convention."

That got his attention. He scowled. "What? You're already in your pajamas. It's after 10:00. You have work tomorrow. Can't you just call her?"

I would not be persuaded. Roy is well aware that when my feet are solidly planted?

I shall not be, I shall not be moved.  (That's a song.)

"Roy? If Tammy says she wants me to come over, and it's already 10:00 at night, clearly she needs someone there. I'm not leaving her stranded."

Thankfully, I managed to get through this with a concerned face rather than a laughing uproariously face. The only way that happened is I firmly believed it was all true. Tammy was, in fact, at least in my head, having a meltdown. She needed me. I needed to go. NOW.

Maybe I should be in Hollywood.

Anyway, I quickly changed into something a little more sightly than my pajamas and headed out the door while Roy sat in his chair stone-faced and probably a tad annoyed at my neighborliness. Meanwhile, Tammy was parked in the church parking lot. She quickly switched over to my car and off we went to the airport. Now she didn't have to join at this point, but it was, of course, far more fun having her along.

Darian came in right on time and it was so good to see her that I couldn't help but cry a bit and hug her close and beg her--at least in my head--to never ever ever ever leave our house again. Ah--was she ever a sight for sore eyes.

And so we drove her home, laughing and chatting it up while my heart swelled a thousand times bigger than it had ever been before.

She woke Roy up first. It was precious to behold. He was in bed, asleep, and I turned on the light. He opened his eyes to Darian peering down at him and he lit up like the sun, grinning ear to ear. "Tammy wasn't having a meltdown, was she?"

We sneaked back downstairs and Darian waited in the living room while Roy woke up Savana. "Savana! Hurry! Come into the living room! Quick!"

Savana does not wake up with her brain in full gear. It's more like she sleep walks in the midst of a dream and it takes her a minute to come back down to earth. And so, in her head, the house was on fire and she needed to run on tippy toes to avoid burning her feet. And so here she comes, running frantically on her tippy toes behind Roy in an "S" fashion to the living room. And then she saw her. And then she fell apart. And they hugged for what seemed forever while Savana sobbed and held Darian so closely that I wondered if Darian could breathe.

For Jace? Darian flat out pounced on him while he lay in a dead sleep in the dark. We flipped on the lamp beside his bed so that Jace could recognize the intruder who was bounding into the midst of his dreamworld. He barely opened his eyes and said, "Darian? What are you doing here?" It was a quick moment of elation but then just as quickly, he rolled over and said, "I'm so tired. Turn off the light."

That boy. He is such a mess. But oh my word does he have my heart.

And so it went. Darian went to Southern for a day to surprise her friends and her cousins. She soaked it all up and basked in the glory of all of the love that just poured out from every corner.

My mom was the last person to be surprised. We kept it from my dad and Jo as well, but Savana spilled the beans before Darian walked in and so it wasn't quite so grand. Anyway, we met Mom at Huhots in Oklahoma City and she had no idea that Darian was with us. It was the cutest thing ever watching Mom's face light up at the sight of Darian. I wish I captured it on video but, sadly, I didn't.

It has been such a merry Christmas. Everyone was so generous with gifts and our family Christmas day was absolutely perfection. Savana is my chef and she headed up a scrumptious breakfast that was divine. And then we opened gifts in our traditional way that takes quite a lot of time but we soak in every moment as it's filled with so much love and joy. And then we played table games and dined on homemade pizza later that afternoon. We finished off the day at the theater: Creed. Ah--great movie.

A few days later we had Christmas in Oklahoma and though it was short, it was perfect.

But without any doubt, the most perfect gift of all, is that Darian came home and is sleeping in her bed right now. She will leave soon--Tuesday of next week: January 5. It will break my heart to hug her goodbye. But for now? Well, my world is complete and I shall enjoy each moment because, really, that's what life is about.

Moments.

And living them, each one of them, to the best of our ability.

Merry Christmas to me.

Just for Tonight

We are officially home from a whirlwind trip to Oklahoma. It's always faster than I want it to be but this year was exceptionally fast. We arrived Wednesday evening and Dad informed me as I was walking through the door that an Oklahoma blizzard was heading their way. And so, in order to avoid the storm that promised record-setting conditions, we left early Saturday morning rather than Sunday morning as planned.

Yep. That makes for 2 entire days in Oklahoma after 1100 miles of driving one way.

That's dedication.

That's a whole lot of driving and sitting and watching the miles roll by.

But no matter. I was home. And even though it was fleeting, it was worth it.

Stories of cattle and wheat. 

Sunsets that make me stand in awe at a painted sky against an endless horizon.

My stepmom's cooking that  reinforces how I don't, in fact, have any self-control.

My mom who personifies kindness and contentment and joy at having her kids all in one place. Truly she's the most precious person I know.

My dad my dad my dad. He has my heart like none other.

When I am home, so many childhood memories come flooding in and I find myself transplanted back to my younger self...the me who delivered iced tea in a quart jar as Dad rode the tractor in the blazing hot sun; the me who drove the pickup down dirt roads, dust swirling up behind me; the me who rode Snip, our gentle but stubborn horse, for hours while daydreaming my life away and creating stories that I would bring to life on paper while lying on my bed at home.

I could go on forever with all of the snapshots that run through my mind like a kaleidoscope of memories, tumbling one on top of the other.

I love Oklahoma. But even more, I love home. It signifies the best of times, the worst of times, family, belonging, struggles and triumphs, laughter, tears, promise.

And then when I hug everyone goodbye, the tears flow. I just can't help it. In fact, just thinking about saying goodbye when I am there makes me well up with emotion. But, of course, my regular life calls and so, I pack my bags and pack up my memories, compartmentalizing them back where they belong so that I can head back to my every day normal.

We arrived home this afternoon (Sunday) at about 4:00. We drove hard yesterday as we were being chased by a storm far bigger than we cared to challenge and made it safely to Nashville. But today? Well, we found ourselves tired of the hurry and took our time leaving the motel. We were all restless and the hours rolled by in mainly silence as we were each busy in our own private worlds.

After we pulled into the driveway, we kicked into gear: unpacked the car, unpacked our suitcases, vacuumed, swept the floor and wiped down the countertops, squared away our finances, bought and put away groceries. Roy even managed to change the brakes on the car so that we are ahead of the game once our week officially kicks into gear bright and early tomorrow.

But I am not really home here in North Carolina--not quite yet. I know I will be soon as life will take hold and yank me back to the present. But for now my thoughts are with those back home who are snowed in, who are sitting in a dark living room lit by candlelight while playing Rumikube, who are dining on taco soup and cornbread--perfect fare for a cold wintry night.

For tonight, I will allow myself the luxury of being a small town Oklahoma girl.

Just for tonight.

Hope is a Four Letter Word

I am hopeful about so many things.

I am hopeful that I will see Darian again.
I am hopeful that Jace will find acceptance and happiness.
I am hopeful that we will, someday, buy a house.
I am hopeful that Savana will have a beautiful wedding that is perfect for her and Guerin.

I am hopeful that I will be around to watch the sunset this evening.
I am hopeful that this too shall pass.
I am hopeful that winter will someday turn to spring to summer to fall and winter again.

I am hopeful that our nation will rise from the ashes.
I am hopeful that Luke will find his way.
I am hopeful that grief will turn to joy.

This week I have learned something that has changed my world and that is this: sometimes we have to recognize that we aren't from the cookie cutter mold and we have to take steps accordingly. Sometimes nobody is wrong. Sometimes we have to stop squeezing and prodding in order to fit.

Sometimes we simply have to stop fighting and find a new way.

Last night I coerced Tammy into coming home with me to see my house. Lots of changes have occurred this week and my living room looks brand new. It's a much needed change...as in it should have happened about six years ago...but that's okay. Kudos, furniture for providing a place for me to sit no matter how worn you appeared!

Anyway, I took Tammy through my house and showed her the different changes I've made, and she oohed and aahed appropriately. She's a great cheerleader. No. I'm serious. She is a G-R-E-A-T cheerleader. It's one of her special gifts. So, you know, I felt like a million bucks. And that's a great way to feel.

But as always happens when we get together, we started talking about our lives and about stuff that doesn't matter and about stuff that does matter. And as she was leaving, she stopped midway down the sidewalk, turned and looked at me through the darkness. And she said:

Hope is a powerful word. It's the most powerful word of the English language. It even surpasses love. It's a reason to wake up in the morning and it's the reason that when times are tough, we can still take one more step.

She's so right.

Hope is a four letter word that turns ashes into promise, devastation into rising, regret into moving forward.

And this morning? I am filled with hope.

Turning Ashes into Beauty

When Roy and I got married, we immediately moved to Campion Academy to a small duplex that was perfect for newlyweds. We had next to nothing to our name as we both came from dorm rooms rather than apartments. In fact, our living room furniture consisted of a couch that my parents had in their early days of marriage, and two burnt orange rocking chairs that were pulled from the dumpster. But? We were young and we simply didn't care. It wasn't much but it was ours.

For bedroom furniture, we had a waterbed that Roy purchased for fifty bucks from a friend. And that's it. No dresser, no nightstand, no anything. Just a bed. But as luck would have it, when we arrived at the duplex that was now our home, an old chest of drawers happened to be in the bedroom. It wasn't much to look at. We had no idea whose it was but as the duplex was totally empty with the exception of this chest of drawers, we assumed it was ours for the taking. And so we did.

28 years later? It's still our dresser. And it has maintained its worn, haggard look through the years. And though that is a popular look these days, it is certainly not becoming with this dresser. It's purely utilitarian. And so over Thanksgiving break, Roy and I were inspired to jazz up some of our furniture: the end tables in our living room, the nightstands in our bedroom, and, of course, and the most overdue, our haggard, worn dresser.

We sanded and sanded some more, and painted, and then painted some more, and then changed out the handles and knobs to a more becoming style, and wa-laa, that haggard piece of furniture was transformed into a trendy chest of drawers that was something to behold. We're really quite proud of ourselves as we've never ventured this direction before, and now Roy and I keep asking ourselves....Really. What took us so long??

From ashes to beauty...

This has been a sobering week. The mass shooting in San Bernardino, California brought home the stark reality that we're not safe in our own homeland. We are sitting ducks to Isis who is located throughout the States in sleeping cells and we never know when or where they will strike. As of late, Isis stories have been rampant around the world as they strive to invoke fear in the hearts of regular people. They have no mercy, no kindness, no compassion. But they do have a mission and thousands have bought into it. That mission? To fulfill their prophecy of taking over the world with ethnic cleansing that will leave only 144,000 so that life can begin again as it's meant, in their minds, to be lived. And these people will go to all lengths to accomplish this mission; their own lives have no meaning.

San Bernardino is close to home. I have two nephews that live there, a plethora of friends, and my heart-friend, Jacque. We lived and taught there for 3 years. I know the highways, the schools, the grocery store. When I talk to Jacque, a brilliant teacher in the San Bernardino district, the fear is palpable.

We are in changing times and we have a problem.

Last night before we went to sleep, Roy and I lay in bed quietly talking for quite awhile, as we often do on Friday nights. It's our catchup time after a busy week of schedules and packed lunches and errands during the moments in between. And I said to Roy, It makes me rethink everything--going to the mall, going out to eat, going to the grocery store. These past couple of days I look for the exits, and stage a plan as I am entering the doors.

I know I am not alone.

But stories of heroism are rising from the ashes. San Bernardino is coming together and standing up #sanbernardinostrong. Families are torn apart and devastation abounds, especially for those families and friends of the 14 lives that were senselessly taken. Those murderers have left carnage and wreckage in their wake. It makes no sense and it's crippling. But the human spirit? It's rising. It is rising from the ashes and it's holding hands and moving onward and upward. The human spirit will not be broken.

Isis numbers somewhere between 20,000-30,000, according to news reports. The world population? 7 billion. Isis operates with terror and fear and force. But they do not make up this world. They don't control our minds. They only have power if we give it to them.

I am not saying that we will not affected by their cruelty; they could very well strike in our own communities.

But when we stop living? They win. When we lose confidence in humanity, they gain victory. Of course we need to be cautious; we need to be aware. That's the reality of 2015 in America. But as for me? My focus will remain that life is to be savored; life is to be lived and enjoyed. Moments are precious diamonds, sometimes  in the midst of ashes.

The lights of my Christmas tree are blinking. It's still dark outside, and the blinking lights are a beautiful contrast to the cold world that is just outside my front window. Savana's wedding dress arrived and we made plans to pick it up today. She will try it on to ensure it fits perfectly, twirling magically in front of the mirror as tears will, most likely, roll down my cheeks as I stare in awe at this precious girl that stands before me. It's amazing to me, really, how she has grown from this chubby, slobbery cherub into this confident, driven woman. And when I see her in that dress, it all floods over me like a storm with conflicting emotion and bursting pride.

Jace has a party this evening--a lock-in--and a birthday party tomorrow that he has looked forward to for weeks. On Monday we have a faculty Christmas party and the food will be delectable; laughter will abound.

It's Christmas time here and for our family, that means anticipation of our own family traditions and traveling to Oklahoma and the joy of being surrounded by those I love the most in this world.

The sun will set, and the sky will blaze with color.

The mountains, bare, will continue to rise towards the sky.

And us? Our nation?  Well, we will rise too. We will find beauty in the ashes.