My brother

He is. A character. For years he has done things that amuses his family.
I will not reveal all of our delights, but some I will share.

I was around 8, and I remember sitting on my floor, facing away from the door. A shoe, my own shoe, was whipped across the room like a baseball, and knocked me upside the head. When questioned, John's reply, "Well, I was just puttin' her shoe back in her room." That is my Bub.

Another favorite. He would take the tithe envelopes from church, and he would arrange them carefully in my dad's old briefcase. He was (IS!) creative, that one. It was money. Ransom money rather. Little did we realize how serious he was taking his game until we found a ransom note scrawled across the garage wall. He meant business.

Another time, I had received a $20 dollar bill, which I carefully placed on my desk in my room. Ten minutes later, it was missing. "Has anyone seen my $20 dollar bill?" I asked. My brother, always the helper walked confidently in my room. "I'll help you look." I pointed to show him where I had placed it, but he wasn't interested. He had already walked over to my closet.

"John, I didn't put it in there!" He was not listening. He reached his hand all the way to the top shelf in my closet and pulled down $20 dollars...MY $20 dollars.
"Well, well, well... What do we have here?" he said. On his face, he had this know it all grin.
Yep. He had taken the $20 dollars, put it on that top shelf, just so he could come help me find it later. Oh, and teach me responsibility. "You shouldn't just leave your things lying around." Thanks, Buddy. (Note to self: Hide all money.)

He knows....stuff. Facts and facts. Sports facts. Who's on what team. Who won what game. What actor is in that movie who was in a commercial who was on a tv show, with the other person from that other show...

He's our athlete. He's a Special Olympics Olympian, from the age of 8(ish). He would run track, and the long jump, and a myriad of other activities. He has the medals. (Still.) All of them. He has the pictures. He has the memories. The last few years he has been involved in basketball and baseball and flag football. He's the trainer for the Northride High School baseball and football teams.

He loves to sing. He may not know all the words to the song, but he loves the music, and he loves to sing along...even with what he doesn't know.

He makes friends. With everyone. You can hardly take him any place without him knowing someone. At his baseball banquet, they cheered for him. (Yes, they cheered for everyone, but for John [And, I'm not just saying this] it was extra loud.) Talk bad about anyone? My brother? No. He does not do that. He does not make fun or tease someone because of their ability or inability, or their lack of "coolness." If you'll be his friend, he'll be yours.

He passed out today. The fourth or fifth time in the last month. It was accompanied by a seizure of some type. There was a drive in an ambulance.
"Will you turn on the lights?"
"Normally we can't, but for you John, we will."

He is home, they sent him home, and he is sleeping downstairs, and I don't wanna leave. Coming up ahead there will be tests. My mom and dad are stubborn (no wonder how their children became equally stubborn). They will find out what is going on. In the meantime, he is still my brother. He likes to see me when I come home and he makes me his specialty - peanut butter and jelly (and he'll even toast the bread if I ask him). And, perhaps I take advantage of him, and have him bring me other things and plug in my computer.... =)

For now, we are praying, and asking everyone to pray.

And, I need it to be said. I need it publicly on the record. I want him to know- Bub, you are the best brother in the world. You are my own little hero. You are brave. You are smart. You are funny. I will love you forever.

However..... I will always be older than you. (That will always make me the boss.) ;)

Love,

Burdens, Bags, and a Pair of Shoes

When given a gift card to a store full of shiny shoes, what's a girl to do? Buy a bag, of course!*

I have always had this attraction to "bags," probably more so than a purse because it can contain so many types of treasures.
A book? Got it!
Lotion? Yup.
Perhaps deodorant, a camera 5 pens, and a checkbook? Check, check, check and check!

(My new bag)

I often say, "I never worry about being bored!" If I arrive early, well, I use that as an opportunity to manage my time wisely, and get something done! Read a chapter, throw on some mascara, or take a picture, whatever! I'm always prepared.

Lately, however, I've been carrying more than than useful items in my bag. I've been carrying something of another nature: burdens.

Those wearisome burdens. They tend to rob and take. Unlike my book which remains peacefully tucked away in my bag, when I carry a burden it wreaks havoc. Havoc that takes on different shapes. Sleeplessness perhaps. Headaches. Heavy shoulders. Aching muscles. Instead of taking the opportunity to show off my bag, I am too overwrought with concerns to show off anything else.

I am constantly reminded of my burden carrying ways. (Usually because it takes on some sort of wild ailment.) In those moments, I remember that those cumbersome burdens, do not technically belong to me. Instead of toting around thoughts such as, "How can I bring World Peace?" and, "Is time travel possible?" I could be reading my Kindle, or making a marble statue (that was a slight exaggeration).

The truth is Jesus meets us where we are, whether we are in a cubes at work, in our living rooms, or sitting in a church. For some reason, I forget that God is ready, willing and able to offer something in exchange for a trying encumbrance. Right in the Bible it states, "Come to me you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest." It's not hard. It's actually much easier than carrying around the weight that I have been trying to shoulder. Life is hard at times. It is a struggle. However, life has the potential to be so much more. When I choose, (and it is just a choice) to say, "God, please help me. Please take the burdens from shoulders, please give me the peace only you can give," He answers. Does it make sense? No. But, neither does worrying about what will happen, or what if that happens, or how can I prevent it from happening......

Carry a bag? Yes. Always. Much to the chagrin of all males in the population (except when I have something they want, such as jumper cables or a mint), I will have my trusty bag of tricks wherever I go.

Carry a bothersome burden? Nah. I'll let Jesus take it from here.

Peace out, (or in- whichever way you wanna see it)
*Oh, and yes, I did purchase a pair of shoes!

One Moment...

It's snowing outside. The quiet peaceful snow. It's the kind of snow that causes me to pause and sit silently.

My Daddy is down the hallway. He's been there since he got home from the hospital about 10 hours ago. I sat with him for a while after he got home. He was still groggy and tired, and amazed. "The nurse told me, she told me that my doctor had a feeling. He just has a sense about these things."

It was just yesterday morning when I was at the hospital with my Papaw, and Pastor John, waiting for the news. They had taken my dad back at 9. The previous heart tests had all come through showing that his heart was okay. He was sent away with the news that he was experiencing indigestion. He didn't listen. (Thankfully.) Neither did his doctor, as the pain persisted.

At 10, the doctor called us together, and on a yellow sticky, he drew a rough picture of a heart. "You're his daughter." I nodded yes.

"Here's what we found. This artery was blocked at 80%, and this was at 95%. Good thing he came. He was a ticking time bomb. It was just a matter of time. We're taking care of him now." We walked back to our chairs silently. Pastor John looked at me. "Are you okay?"

How do you answer when you are shocked? When the news you have is frightening and yet, also relieving. What do you say when someone says to you it was just possible that at any moment your dad could have been gone from you.

Around 11:30, we were told that he was in the recovery room, and that we would be able to see him. We stood around him, as he made faces (if only I had a video at that moment!). "You aren't going to remember anything we say are you?" I asked. "Can I have a thousand dollars?"

We laughed then, all of us, my mom, Pastor John, me...

We walked back to the waiting room a bit later. The doctor explained to all of us what we had already put together. This had been serious. His life was saved.

I did not cry. I still have not cried. It is all too surreal.

What do you say in those moments? The moments where you realize that a miracle has just occurred. How do you put into words your feelings and thoughts? Everything had been about to change, and we did not even know.

On Sunday we are going to be together. All of us. Eating and laughing. Playing games. Watching movies. All the while knowing that things could have been different in one moment of time.

Today, I am thankful. I have said, "Thank you God" more than I can count. I have said I love you to my family more than usual.

Today, I am going to take advantage of today knowing that we have no guarantees. Knowing that life is but a breath.

Today I am going to be thankful.

Today I am going to live.

Today I will not have regrets.

Much love,

February 29th on February 18th

February 29th. I have always been fascinated by February 29th. I am sure that my curiosity is no different than others. One particularly important (at least in my mind) is when do those born on February 29th celebrate their birthdays???

Regardless of if they chose to celebrate on February 28th, or March 1st, in 2008 I discovered (too late) that some choose to celebrate February 29th by doing particular items on the 29th. A list of 29 things to be more precise. I loved the idea!

One small loop hole- February 29th is in the middle of the week. Not on a day I'm planning to take off work, so me and my mind came up with another idea. In honor of February 29th, why not do 29 things on a Saturday instead? Armed with a friend, that exactly what I did...Today!

The preparation did not take too long (I got set up last night), and the festivities began today at 11 am, and did not finish until about 9:30 pm.

You may be asking yourself, What did they do? (Go ahead, and ask yourself.)
Well....... (not inclusive list but here are a few:)

• Make a personalized t-shirt (check)
• Completed your 2012 to-do list (check)
• Memorize a new verse (check)
• Go for a walk (check, check- 4 miles)
• Create and mail a letter to a friend)
• Find three new ways to "Go Green." (check)
• Find the perfect lipstick (check)
• Watch the sunset (check)
• Eat chocolate (check)
• Read a chapter from a book (check)
• Take 29 pictures (check)
• Play a card game (check)
• Eat something delicious (check-----however, I am still on the quest for something oober delicious. We tried, and didn't quite accomplish what we were looking for. We had some very close. What would you consider delicious?!)

In addition, the majority of the pictures were taken on a good ole disposable camera- for fun. Now- we have to wait to see!

Nothing like livin' the good life!

Where Love Is...

C and I went Friday to see a friend. We knew that she wasn't well. Her husband met us
with hugs, and a smile, and a greeting that was not quite expected. "She's not the same as you girls knew. She looks different now, but she'll love you just the same."

C smiled, and said, "We'll love her right back."

We went to her. We held her hands, and rubbed her arms. We smoothed her hair, and said things that you don't speak out loud. The room was filled with peace. Friends were there.
Family was there. Someone looked looked at C and said, "Will you sing? She would love it if you sang."

So she sang with her eyes closed, and her beautiful voice echoed down the hall. I joined in, and others followed suit. The room filled with more visitors, friends and family. The kleenex box was passed around. Hands were held. Hugs were given. The songs were favorites. Songs of hope, and of anticipation.

And, as people sang, she was laying back on the bed, eyes still closed, listening to every song,
every word and phrase, and though she could not sing with her mouth, with spoken words, she could sing with her heart. She raised her hands, with the help of others, and at moments entirely of her own strength, up to the person she knew to be the ultimate healer.

In the house, the rooms were filled with love. We sat with her brothers and other friends and family around the table, and I imagined a living picture that happens frequently. The laughter, the singing, the certainty with which they try to convince one brother that he was adopted, and the love. Filling and swirling around the room, around the house, love lived there, and
will live there still.

She met our Jesus on Friday night. Emma did. Hours after we left. She breathed in one last time, and went to be with Him. She met Him in that place where there is no pain, no sickness,
no tears. She met Him, and yesterday and today she walks with Him down the golden streets,
and alongside the crystal sea.

She now lives where Love is...

Ode to A New Year

This year, I set off, hoping to make a few things true, right off the bat.

• To begin with, I was determined to not allow my kitchen to go wild with dishes and chaos and disorganization any longer.
• I was also determined to clean out my storage unit and to make sure it was very clean and organized.
• I did also want to ring in the New Year in Chicago, on Navy Pier. I wanted to see midnight happen, with the crowds, and the fireworks.

Come January first I had done just that. I, with the help of me mum, organized my kitchen, with the help of some friends, reorganized my storage (actually more like a little storage locker thing in a room), and I did ring in the New Year in Chicago, on Navy Pier. I did see midnight happen, in the middle of a crowd, with a few friends, watched the fire works, and ran to the bus to get across town to the last train.

I was also pretty certain that I wanted to make it a goal to write at least one blog posting a week. I met my silent goal last week, but this week was hectic, although I did remember earlier today on Saturday. By the time I sat down I realized that it was actually 12:02 am, so technically Sunday.... I'm still counting it anyways!

Who else feels as though they are starting their New Year off right???

On Your Mark, Get Set...

"Apparently there is nothing that cannot happen today."
~Mark Twain

The "holidays" are over. My tree is packed up, sitting in my "dining room" waiting to be moved to storage. (My NEW tree, the one I have wanted, the tree have eyed for three years tree, the tree with all it's pre-lit glory, the tree I wanted, but I was determined to wait for a great great sale tree, is in my car.) My new sock monkey is sitting on my tv stand. My New Year's Eve crown is sitting on the couch beside me. My apartment smells like cinnamon, and I'm sitting on my couch, all comfy and cozy in non-matching comfy pants and t-shirt. I am happy.

And excited.

I am a fanatic, when it comes to new beginnings. I enjoy the anticipation, and the count down. I enjoy the 1st and the clean slate the "new" brings. This year, this year is no different.

We are almost at Day 6, 2012, and my anticipation has not dissipated. Instead, it's only grown. And I have a secret. A secret that not everyone may know. A secret that I am about to share. GOD has great plans for me. Okay, maybe that isn't a big secret, but it is enough to make me look forward to what is ahead, and NOT behind.

I heard a quote that was in a movie, and I feel as though it sums it up perfectly...

We need "to stop and reflect on the year that has gone by. To remember both our triumphs and our missteps - our promises made, and broken. The times we opened ourselves up to great adventures - or closed ourselves down, for fear of getting hurt. Because that's what New Year's is all about: getting another chance. A chance to forgive, to do better, to do more, to give more, to love more. And stop worrying about 'what if' and start embracing what would be. So when that ball drops at midnight - and it will drop - let's remember to be nice to each other, kind to each other. And not just tonight but all year long."

Go on out there. Write your resolutions.
And rewrite them again.
Cross the one off you decide you hate 10 days in and make a new goal.
Run your marathon- or maybe half.
Cut back on all sweets, except for Saturdays and special holidays (and then every once in a while take secret delight in sneaking a piece of chocolate when no one is looking, and then don't feel bad about it.)
Take up your gardening or reading or exercising or yodeling.
Take your trip to Europe and backpack across the countries.

And, Don't forget to shine.

...Go.

*One last thing, my birthday is in 22 days.*

Just a Moment, Please....

There are moments. Like this one.....

....When I am sitting in my comfy place, on my couch, or propped up in my bed....

....After I have just read a beautiful, or funny, or melancholy story....

....When my Charlie Brown-esque Christmas Tree isn't lit
(because, well, I have to redo the lights so that the plug-in
is not buried somewhere in the middle of the tree)....

....When I'm contemplating packing my bags for a trip to see
My Melissa, two weeks before I have to leave....

....When my face is hurting because I've been laughing....

....When I'm wearing my Goodwin t-shirt, and I'm reminded that I have friends, wonderful, best of the best friends, nestled in various places around the country....

....When the day I've been waiting for arrives.....

....When events are planned....

....I'm in the middle of a messy, creative project....

....I'm talking to Blanche....

....When fun secrets are in the air, along
with a bit of mystery and wonder....

....When I hear my favorite song on the radio....

....After a phone call....

....Looking through pictures....

....I just ignore the fear and take the jump....

....I have put pen to paper (or electronic ink? to screen?)....

....because it involves more laughing, and talking, and singing,

and dancing,
twirling, and LIVING....

....that I am reminded that I am so very, very blessed. And that life is good. And that God is great. And that it's not over. And that each day is a new chance to be more fabulous, and more amazing....

....when I make a choice to be happy, and at peace....

Lookin' forward to the journey- how about you come along?
“A person often meets his destiny on the road he took to avoid it.” ~ Jean de La Fontaine

A Bird’s Eye... Strike that... A Camel’s Eye View

Fall is the perfect time of year.

I will give you spring, and summer and winter are all beautiful for a short season, but fall. Fall is perfect.

I love the leaves changing colors. The crisp, cool air. I love breaking out the sweaters for the first time, and the smell of a good fall fire in the air.

This year, my friends and I decided to take a trip to an Apple Orchard. Imagine my delight when I learned that they were offering camel rides, and anyone, I REPEAT ANYONE, was allowed to ride, for a mere five dollars. I turned to Karen, and probably squealed with delight, "KAREN, It's a camel ride! I've always wanted to ride a camel!" With a shrug and a head nod, Karen decided she was game, and more than willing to ride the camel with me.

I questioned the booth people carefully. "Anyone can ride?"
"Yes."
"Grown up people?"
"Yes."
"Me?"
"Yes."
"Two tickets, please."

Strangely, Karen's boyfriend wasn't as excited about the prospect of the two of us riding the camel, but we didn't let that stop us. We stood in line in between a toddler and an eight year old, (proudly I might add) as Todd stood far, far away.

There may have been a few quiet whispers between Karen and myself.

"Karen, there are no other "big" people in line for the camel ride. They all have kids."
"Don't worry Stephanie. No one here will ever see us again."
I nodded. She was right, and that was enough for me! (And, honestly, I wasn't gonna let anything stand in the way between me and the camel.)

It was over far too quickly. We took two laps around the big (well somewhat small-ish) ring. The camel owners were kind enough to stop the camel long enough for Todd to take a picture of Karen and I atop the camel (pictures to be disclosed at some point later in the future). All too soon my ride was over.

Next up, I need to find someone with an elephant.....

*A view from the top

Anyone know how to "strike-through" in the title?

The Shepherd and the Treasure

The shepherd was known to everyone in the town. The animals loved him, but so did the people. He was quiet and kind. He did not speak harshly. Even when someone was wrong, he would make it right. He would wrap his arms around him or her, and in his quiet, gentle way calm the storm.

A little girl lived in the town. Quiet and peaceful.

The little girl was stubborn. And, she was smart, but always underlying the "smart" was the stubborn. The fierceness and fieriness that comes when you are determined to do whatever it is you want to do. "I do it myself," she would say, and she would snatch her hand away, from the larger one offering assistance.

As she was playing outside one day, she came across a treasure. Never-mind the type of treasure, what it was, just know that it was a treasure. It was small, and it fit in the palm of her hand. It was sparkly and the most beautiful color. She knew immediately upon picking it up that she would never let it go. It would be with her always.

The shepherd saw her with the treasure, and he knew what she did not. He came beside her, and offered her a different treasure in place of the one she gripped so tightly. She would smile up at his kind face and say, No thank you shepherd. I have my own. He would smile, and pat her on the head and walk on.

What the shepherd knew, is what the little girl did not notice. That the treasure slowed her down. She still would play and sing and dance, but she moved slower, sang softer, danced less frequently. It was difficult, holding her treasure in her hand, and trying to move throughout the day. However, it was hers, and she could not put it down. Occasionally, as she was playing, she would feel a slight pain shooting through her hand and up her arm. She would examine the treasure, and sigh. Her treasure, though beautiful, had a sharp, cutting edge. Often as her treasure cut into her hand she would think about putting her treasure away, setting it aside, but she would shake her head no, and grip it more tightly. A treasure, after all, was worth the pain.

The shepherd would come by frequently, more and more often. Always with the same question, and she offered the same response.

The day came, however, when the pain in her hand could not be tolerated any longer. There was no playing. No singing. No dancing. Only silence. The little girl would sit with her arms crossed, gripping the treasure tightly. Her hand had begun to bleed. It was slow at first, but the sharp edge cut, and day after day it cut into the same wound that was trying to heal from her grip the day before. She loved her treasure. It was inexplicable the way she felt. The thought of setting her treasure down caused her more pain than the pain in her hand. Her mom and dad were wise. They would encourage her to put it down. She would shake her head, no. Her friends were kind, we'll take it from you, we will help you. She would walk away.

The shepherd would come by, and ask. Crying even still, she would look at him and say, "No shepherd. I love my treasure."

One morning, the little girl awoke. The day was no different than the day before. The sky was a gray, the pale gray that comes in the fall. Inside, however, the girl knew it was time. She needed to be free. She stood up. Put on her best dress and her shiny shoes, and walked outside and down a long path and to the river. She knew who she would find there, waiting for her, and she was right. The shepherd stood by the river, his eyes soft, his lips smiling.

She opened her hand, and with her other she grasped the treasure. She held it to the light, and examined it one last time. It was still beautiful, but instead of admiring the shine, she saw the edge. The sharp, and cutting edge. It was time. She walked to the shepherd, and stood beside him. He stretched out his hand, asking for her treasure, and she handed it to him. With her at his side, they walked to the edge and let the treasure fall into the water. The water swallowed her treasure whole, and swept it away.

The little girl sat right where she had stood, and cried sobbing tears. All the pain and frustration running down her face, and pouring out of heart. The shepherd sat down beside her, patting her head. Saying nothing, but waiting.

She opened her hand, and they stared at her wound. The deep, long cut that the treasure had made. He traced the wound with his finger. He then reached in to his satchel, and pulled out a different treasure. He held it to her, and this time she took it. It was magnificent, of the deepest, purest color. The light shined off it's surface. She smiled, and could hardly speak. This treasure was exquisite. Far outweighing the beauty of her old treasure. And it was smooth. No violent edges, nothing that would cause pain. "Oh it's beautiful," she whispered, and she tried to hand it back to him.

The shepherd smiled at her softly, and said, "Didn't you know? I've had this the whole time, just for you."

The little girl cried again. Not out of pain, but joy and peace.

Then, she started to dance.