Nail Proof

Twice a year Keene has Trash Pick Up Day. This isn't the normal once a week gig where they empty the trash cans. This is the Bring Whatever Junk You Have to the Curb and We Will Dispose of It day.

Out behind our house is a large tin building that could be used for storage. We recently figured out that this tin building is actually the trailer to a semi minus the wheels and minus a back door. Then someone built a front to it, added some electricity, and there you go--a storage shed. Roy hates the front addition and intends to tear it down someday because it looks a bit tacky. But there was a problem with the trailer part of the shed, and that problem is this:

It was stockpiled with JUNK. And I do mean junk. It was just left there by one of the two previous owners--no idea who, and it really doesn't matter--but it was more than Roy could stand. All of that junk weighed on him. And so, when he heard about this Bring Whatever Junk You Have...day, he determined that he would use it to his gain and get rid of it all.

Which sounds great.

However, Roy has been working from morning 'til night with his job--literally. He leaves by 5:20 every morning and has not been getting home before 8:00. Once he is trained, life will slow down a bit but in the meantime, he is a busy boy. And so, by the time Roy pulled in Monday night (and the trash pick up was Tuesday), it was pitch black outside.

As we live outside of town, we have no street lights to guide the way; it's pure country out here. But of course, Roy was not deterred and so the three of us (Jace included) with flashlight in hand gingerly walked out to that tin building and scoped out the massive amounts of junk inside. And then we got to work.

While Roy worked the trailer, Jace and I stood outside with large black trash bags and stuffed what Roy threw out into the bags. It was hard work and it was disgusting. We all kept one eye open for a slithering rattlesnake or a scurrying mouse but, sigh of relief, it never happened. I'm not sure why as the inside of that trailer was a haven for such critters.

Anyway, Roy worked at lightning speeds and Jace and I struggled to keep up with him; and then it happened. Roy let out a yell and suddenly stopped, pulling up his foot.

"A nail just went through my foot," he said.

"You're kidding me," I replied, panicking a bit.

"I'm not kidding. I need your help."

And so, with Jace on one side and me on the other, we managed to help Roy hobble to his workshop where he sat down on a bucket and held up his work boot for me to inspect.

Sure enough.

I could see the head of a nail securely fastened to the bottom of his boot.

It was evident that Roy was managing the pain as he breathed purposefully in through his nose, out through his mouth, in a determined, repetitive fashion.

He instructed me where to find the pliers and then, after I brought them to him, he inched out the nail just a wee bit--enough to be able to grab it with the pliers.

"On my count, pull it out," he said. "Pull it straight out."

For the record? I am an English major. I like books, writing, candles, and sunsets.

I do not like blood, wounds, or nails in feet. Medical stuff makes me nauseous. One time, Roy had a procedure done on his back and, being the supportive wife that I am, I hung in the room while the doctor cut on Roy's back.

And I went down.

I sat down in time so that my head didn't flop on the floor...but nonetheless...it sent me over the edge.

If you are having a medical emergency, I am not your girl.

And so, this nail in Roy's foot? It took everything in my being to stay in that shop, pliers in my hand, reaching for the nail, grabbing it, and then pulling. Straight out.

I would have preferred running straight out.

But I didn't.

I am the hero in this story.

I got the nail out, leaving a hole in Roy's foot. And we have no idea the last time he had a tetanus shot.

Great.

But no matter.

Because Roy is Roy? We went back out to that tin building and Roy went back to work. I yelled, and I complained, and I grumbled about the stupidity of it all as I was convinced Roy would get another nail in his foot...but he was determined. 35 very large black trash bags later, the tin building was empty and we threw as many of those bags into the little red pickup--and several on top of it--as was physically possible and drove them to the front of the house where we dumped them by the curb...

And then repeat.

Yesterday Roy went to work and mid-afternoon he sent me a text telling me how yet another nail plunged through his other boot while he was at work. This one, however, missed his foot.

Clearly Roy needs new boots.

I sent a text to Dr. Bob, our Doctor friend from North Carolina, asking for his thoughts on the matter, and he said, "Woman, get your husband a tetanus shot! Lockjaw might be good for you but not for him!"

Yeah. He's nice like that.

And so, after a bit of research, I learned that CVS provides immunizations, including tetanus shots, and so on the way home from work, Roy stopped by.

Meanwhile...

Roy's fellow inspectors told him about some boots that are nail-proof. I think we'll check those out.

Worth It

My cat is happy I am home. He is sitting on my lap and kneading my belly because it is squishy and he likes that.

Great.

I am home from an incredible weekend in Oklahoma--the home that forever holds my heart. When Roy and I first got married, I was so excited to begin our adventure in Colorado with the grandeur of the Rockies; in our later years, I adored Wisconsin; North Carolina was awe-inspiring. But? There is no place like home. On our way back yesterday, Tami said, "I would enjoy living in the mountains of North Carolina with its perfect weather."

I just smiled. Because I know...she wouldn't last long. She would be just like me--pining for the plains, longing for wide open sky and pickup trucks with trailers behind.

Our trip home was a fast one. We left at 1:00 Friday afternoon, stopping along the way to meet my precious Auntie Buggsy (Hi Muggs) whom I haven't seen in a few years, but now she only lives about an hour away. And then we zipped on to little Tommy-Town (Thomas), home to the Bulldogs and country roads with potholes to dodge and two big dips in the center of town with a "DIP" side beside them. Back in the day, Tami used to say to me, "Look, Vonda--they have a welcome sign for you!"

And back in the day, it made me angry and I would cross my arms, sullen.

Because I was 8.

My mom made scrumptious potato soup because she asked me what I wanted for supper and that is one of the dishes that is just so Mom. She used to tell me stories about how when she was growing up, the kids would pile in after milking the cows and Grandma would have a large pot of potato soup simmering on the stove. Clearly potato soup spelled home for Mom as well.

After we ate, we all (Mom, my sisters, and me) headed for the track up at the school and walked circles while gazing at the sky. The sun had gone down by the time we got there, leaving streaks of gold and hues of pink, and a large cloud loomed above us, creating a conversation piece as lightning sparked inside: What is the deal with that cloud?

It was a perfect evening.

I spent Saturday with Dad and Jo. They were part of their church "garage sale" and so I hung quite a lot with Dad on an ugly gold couch that probably haled from the '70's, as he joked and teased with passersby. He has a good buddy named Eddie Royalty that has been his friend since time began and Eddie and his wife Dorothy were there most of the time as well. They left occasionally to pop some popcorn that was passed out free of charge to those who came to the "garage sale." As we sat there on that ugly couch, Eddie reminded me of how when I was a little kid in elementary school, we would play dodge ball and I would hang in the very back corner for the entire game rather than getting up there in the front and participating.

No surprise there.

I was probably thinking, I would rather be reading a book...

Yeah. I was one of those.

After the garage sale, we headed to Clinton which is about 20 miles away or so for lunch and then the County Fair so that Jo could pick up all of her first place (and a few Champion) submissions. Jo is a master at crafting--her work is second to none. She and Laurie Worth would have a grand time chatting it up and comparing their pristine artwork that leaves me baffled. Because no matter how I try, my crafting looks like a kindergartner put it together.

Every single time.

While we were at the County Fair, a few ladies from Seiling, the little town where I grew up, walked in and we chatted with them for a bit. I haven't seen them since I was literally ten years old so that was fun and crazy and left me shaking my head at where does the time go.

Jo and I made cinnamon rolls that afternoon--24 large, gooey, pecan-filled rolls that burst in the oven. We smathered them with icing and then we all divulged ourselves, savoring every bite. And then felt miserable afterwards because that is just what we do.

We had a bit of excitement later in the afternoon when Dad, rifle in hand, went out on the four wheeler to shoot a road runner that was after the baby bunnies. Jo loves her bunnies that hop in her yard--that is more like park than a yard--and she guards them like a hawk. But Dad didn't have any success as the road runner hid behind the edge of the house and watched Dad ride slowly by; then the road runner took off the opposite direction when it was safe.

I watched it all from the window.

But that road runner better be careful. I'm betting his days are numbered.

Around 7, Tami and Lori came over and the house was filled with chatter and laughter and the smell of cinnamon...

It was perfect.

And when we hugged Jo and Dad goodbye, Dad said, "So. Was it worth it?"

Over that 24 hour period, I watched a king cab pickup truck hauling a beat up cattle trailer down the road.

I saw children playing in the street, their feet filthy, without a care in the world.

Cows lazily picked up their heads from grazing and watched as we drove on in the car.

I stood on the land that has been home to my family since 1927.

I ate at the table with my amazing mom on her best dishes.

I sat on Dad and Jo's couch, watching tv, and chatted with my precious Dad and Jo about nothing and everything.

I gazed at fields newly plowed from sewing seeds for next year's wheat crop.

Yes, Dad.

It was worth it.

One Day at a Time

We are having an Open House for the Advancement Department this next week and so yesterday, we all converged in the Work Room of our department and went to work. It was a mess. And so, we all rolled up our sleeves and heaved and hoed and pushed and pulled and rearranged.

Tami's husband Lloyd is an architect and he drafted a new layout for the room that would make the most of the space. We added a modern tv stand for our large flatscreen that will be used for videos and such that are always in production with the marketing team. We discussed this large space on the wall that will be used for keeping track of all of our events and projects.

It was constant motion and discussion and laughter and sweat. But three hours later, we had a brand new room that is energizing, exciting.

In the midst of all of that chaos, Janelle came by loaded down with Dr. Pepper from Sonic Happy Hour. She whisked in, passed out styrofoam cups filled to the brim, and whisked out! But she was a delight--and we were all delighted. Love that girl.

And so, it was a productive day. I didn't get one thing accomplished that I had on my list, but no matter. Today is another day...

I intended to go to Hobby Lobby yesterday evening after work and get a few things for my office. It's in need of a little pick-me-up. You know...a plant in the windowsill, some frames scattered around, maybe a clock...And so, in the middle of the day I sent Roy a text to let him know and of course, he wanted to join. But there was a catch: endless shrimp at Red Lobster is in session.

When I got home from work, Jace immediately came out to join me and proceeded to tell me what a great day he had at school. He has a crush on a little girl that is, admittedly, adorable, and so he informed me that life is looking up.

Oh boy. Here we go...

And then Roy got home (a tad late as he hit traffic) and we took off for Red Lobster. We had an adorable little waitress named Mari that just graduated from college with her Journalism/Communication degree. She is living at home and said that she loves home, no big desire to leave any day soon...but she is preparing her resume and hoping to work for a small news company one day and work her way up to the Big Leagues.

I think she'll make it.

One of these days we'll turn on Good Morning America--or something of that caliber--and there will be Mari -- that beautiful smile radiating, informing the world in her infectious way. And we'll say, "Hey! She was our waitress at Red Lobster that one day! Remember?"

But most likely we won't remember.

Because we're both bad about that sort of thing.

Anyway...

We hit Hobby Lobby at exactly 8:01.

They closed at 8:00.

So the very reason that we initially went to Burleson?

Well...

And so, we drove back home, Roy talking a mile a minute about all of his work stories.

He is happy.

We were home before 9:00 and we both fell into bed and were sound asleep before 9:30.

Yesterday was just a day--a regular, normal, nothing out of the ordinary day.

This morning the alarm rang at 4:30 and Roy bounded out of bed. I sluggishly followed him about 15 minutes later to pack his lunch and send him off with a bowl of cantaloupe and toast.

Another regular day is on its way.

Well, hopefully...

Because one never knows when life will change in the blink of an eye.

One never knows when an unforeseen phone call or event will throw life off kilter and catapult us in an entirely different direction.

And so...for all of the regular days? The days that glide by with nothing spectacular, nothing really to talk about?

Or write about?

We have to commit to being present, to enjoying the moment, to soaking it all in...

We have to commit to living...

...one day at a time.

Imperfectly Perfect

Last night I took a bath--a long hot bath with lots of bubbles.

I love baths. It is in those quiet moments of reflection when it is only me and bubbles and water up to my neck that the light comes in. Some of my greatest truths present themselves and I am able to leave the bathroom a bit more settled in my heart than I entered.

And so, last night as I soaked for a bit, I thought about how life has come full circle, and I thought about how all of my posts appear like life is just perfect.

And of course...nothing is ever perfect.

I despise that actually--the appearance of perfection, making others feel inferior in comparison. One time this past spring when Jace was in soccer, I got to know one of the other moms and I just really liked her. Her name was Tami and she had two older kids--very similar to me. One time when we were talking she told me how both of her older kids struggled. Her son was on the streets and her daughter had just moved with her boyfriend to Colorado because marijuana was legal. And then she asked me about my older kids. I felt embarrassed reporting on mine in comparison. Her heart was torn as she wrestled with self-blame for her children's struggles. And so, as I briefly told her about my own adult children, who appeared so successful in comparison, I assured her that they are all just kids, finding their way. That the outside appearance may look good, but when it comes to our hearts, we are all just people doing the best we can.

Recently I ran into a mom of kids that we actually taught several years ago. This mom and her husband had an air of perfection that they groomed in a carefully guarded manner. I haven't seen these two people in well over 15 years and so much has happened to their kids since we taught them. One is in prison for life and the other is experiencing some major struggles. Their air of perfection is broken and as I spoke with this mom, her guard down, we connected in a very real way about the pain of life and yet, it's joys in the midst of heartache.

Recently I read a book that talked about how we don't connect with people when we share our successes and our joys nearly so much as when we share our pain and our struggles. And that hit me with its truth. We all like to know that we aren't in this alone, that when others go home at the end of the day, they don't necessarily always go home to light and laughter and dazzling sunshine. Struggles define us and struggles keep us connected at their very core.

Last night I participated in one of those Facebook "games" that tells you who you are at your core based on posts and such. I play those games all of the time but very rarely post them because they seem to be a "beg" for a compliment. But this particular game--or whatever it is called--seemed to be spot-on as the message that it claimed I stand for is experiencing life in all of the good and in all of the bad. And I was impressed. Because truly, that is what I want to do--that is what I strive for--to truly live life each day, whether life is good or life is painful. Because I believe that the only way to get to true happiness is to experience true sorrow when painful experiences come our way. And so, I posted it. I thought it would be a way to share with others so that they, too, could participate and see what core message they give out to the Facebook world. However, a friend of mine commented and said, "Go Vonda!" And I realized that the message I was putting out into the world is that I am "all that and a box of chocolates." And so, I immediately took down the post.

Life is never perfect. But I believe life is beautiful and tragic and painful and joy-filled--and sometimes all of that in one day. We are all doing the best that we can and sometimes our best may not be what others perceive our best should be.

But? What others think is really none of our business.

What is important is that we make each day count, that we live our best life, that we watch sunsets, we laugh with friends, we celebrate people, we cry when our hearts are hurting, we create traditions, we eat good food, we strive for balance...

...that we are authentic.

...that we are part of the greater good.

...that we do the best we can, one day at a time...

...imperfectly perfect.

Letting Go

Yesterday I mowed.

Mowing around here is a big deal because the yard is huge. And there are lots of trees with big roots that one has to maneuver. And so, I made wide circles around the places that looked a bit treacherous and left them for Roy which, of course, made mowing quite enjoyable! No navigating...just around and around, watching the circle get smaller and smaller...

I love mowing--always have. I don't even mind pushing a mower. There is something satisfying about a clean shaven yard, the earthy smell of grass wafting up, the backdrop of blue sky.

Once I "finished" the back portion, Roy took over and I headed over to the track to meet Tami so that we could get in our 3 miles. She was a tad late arriving and so I walked the path alone for a bit--just Piper and me--walking a 3/4 mile track that has a large loop followed by a smaller one. We used to walk the roads but the sun sets earlier now and it's pitch black by the time we're done. And so, we've opted for a safer setting.

As I walked the loops--enjoying a bit of "me" time--I thought about a phone conversation I had earlier in the day. On September 16 I am hosting an event in Orlando for SWAU Alumni and we recently sent out invitations. One of our alumni received the invitation and called to RSVP.

And then she said, "Do they have any job openings in Texas for teachers?"

The question took me by surprise, made me shake my head a bit. "Do you mean in the Adventist system?" I asked.

"Yes, I am wanting to relocate and was hoping I could find a job there as a teacher."

"Oh!" I said. "I would recommend checking the NAD website as they list their job openings there."

She assured me that she has checked it several times but nothing is listed currently.

And so I said, "I totally understand your position. I was there a few months ago. So I am just going to make a suggestion. Tell God the desire of your heart, and then let go."

We talked a bit more about it, and then she said, "I am so encouraged. Thank you."

It was one of those conversations that doesn't happen very often--one of those off the cuff connections that one doesn't see coming. And truly, I am normally not so bold, especially with someone whom I don't know. And I am not patting myself on the shoulder, like -- look at me saying just the right thing.

Because normally?

Normally I stumble.

Normally I have no words.

Normally I have no answers.

But the past year has taught me...again...that stress about one's future is a waste of energy.

That the desires of our heart do not go unnoticed.

That we must keep our hearts open for opportunity--

    Our eyes open for those uncanny coincidences...

And then let go...

The New Regular

I forgot what regular felt like.

We lived in the midst of anxiety and the "unknown" and boxes for months. That restless feeling inside my heart became the norm. I took lots of deep breaths, closed my eyes, and thought...it's going to be okay...a few million times a day.

And now it is.

It's okay.

Now I have a living room with magical Internet and all boxes are absent. I still don't have things hung on the walls but it feels like home. My table is set up and we actually eat on it far more than we did in North Carolina. The cat door is back but this time it's minus the "ladder" on the outside as the window sits low to the ground so the cats can easily go in and out without help. That's a good thing as I always called that ladder our little piece of trailer trash.

Tami and I have established a walking routine. We took a hiatus for a short while when we moved from the rental to this home but we are back at it again. We meet at 8:00 which used to be just fine--we still made it home before sunset. But now the sun is heading down when we meet at the track and it's black as midnight when we're done.

Clearly fall is just around the corner. Ah--I love fall. I simply can't wait.

And yet? I can...because I don't want to rush my days. I don't want to rush my life.

I was talking to a friend recently whose son just left for a year overseas as a missionary. She said, "I wish I could just snap my fingers and this year would be over and he would be back. But? I really don't because I can't afford to miss a year."

I know what she means.

Roy has been working 'round the clock on the house. His to-do list appears endless and he is feeling the pressure as he starts his job this coming week.

Everything in my life over the past seven months has fallen into place in perfect timing.

When we knew we would be leaving North Carolina, I shared with one of my good friends that  all of the unknowns were stressful, that they kept me up at night. And she said, You don't need to worry. It will fall into place without your stress. Life is moving you forward and you just need to sit back and watch it happen.

Oh my, how right she was.

I stand amazed.

And now I just get to live the regular.

I still love driving down our road, seeing our house at the dead-end. That feeling still rises in my chest every single time...I can't believe it's mine.

I never imagined it possible that my sister would be my walking partner, my neighbor...and now she is.

Texas sunsets.

Jace's laughter with friends coming and going.

A fireplace that now sits empty but soon will be alive with dancing flames and crackling wood.

Surround sound in my living room.

Students chatting in my office.

Co-workers who have already become friends.

Brene' Brown every morning as the candle in the burnt orange ceramic vase flickers.

No Stone Left Unturned

When we began the process of figuring out where we were moving, I sent up a silent plea: Please let there be a neighbor Jace's age that can hang at our house, that Jace can hang at his house, that will offer friendship and laughter...

And then we moved to Keene. When we were at the rental, I scanned the neighborhood for boys in the 14 year old range with no success. And then when we moved to our new home, I assumed the same: no neighborhood boys close by. The neighbors next to us have small grandchildren that must visit fairly regularly as a plastic car that a child sits in and pushes with their feet hangs on the porch. The people across the street live in a home that sits back  a ways from the road and we have never seen them so I assumed they don't have kids either. But? Keene is a small community. If one has a bike, one can ride across town in a matter of minutes. Jace just needed to make some Keene friends and all would be well.

Last night Roy burned trash...again...as he does every night now that we've begun the "moving in" process. And so, I pulled up the bench that hangs out in front of his shop and sat with him while he kept the fire burning. The sky is everywhere out there in the back by the shop and one can't help but just look up. And so I did. It was a quiet evening and the smoke from the fire lazily curled up to the sky as Roy and I talked about everything and yet nothing at all.

The truth of it is, I should have been inside unpacking boxes. I should have been straightening up the mantel over the fireplace and finding a more appropriate home for that really cool owl I purchased from Pier One and the old fashioned phone and the bowl with stripes that I painted at Claying Around and the unopened box that sits up there that I still don't know what's inside. In the past, I have shifted into beast-mode when it comes to unpacking my house. "Two weeks" from start to pictures hung on the wall has always been the flashing goal in my mind that I determinedly hit. But this time? Well, this time an 8-5 job beckons every morning and by evening, I'm toast. And so, last night I unpacked only one box and then headed outside.

I had something on my mind that I wanted to contemplate, something that made me stop in awe. And here is why...

When I got home from work yesterday, Jace ran outside to meet me. "Mom," he said as I got out of the car.

I heard his voice but wasn't sure where his voice was coming from and so I peeked through the fence into the backyard. Roy was mowing out back so I assumed he was there too.

"Mom," he said again. And this time I turned, saw him standing on the sidewalk towards the front of the house.

I couldn't help but laugh at myself. Sometimes, I make me wonder...

"Guess what," Jace said.

"What."

"That house across the street?" Jace pointed to the house that sits back a bit from the road--the one that houses a family we've really never seen. "I made a friend today at school and he lives right there. And Mom, guess what. We're a lot alike."

I just stood there, speechless.

Because honestly, I have no words. Everything...everything...that I prayed for has fallen into place.

No stone has been left unturned.

In October 2016? I made a silent plea.

And now I am living the answer.