My "Bo".....The Senior Photos....My Thoughts

Can my little, toddling baby really be the young woman in these photos?

If your babies have grown up, you'll understand the bitter sweetness of it. If not, it may feel like years before you find yourself in my shoes. And I know mothers always say, "Treasure it. It flies by." But it's true. And it did.

I was older when my babies came so I knew that time warps and folds ever faster as the years progress. And yet I am, even now, caught off guard.

I savored the fragrance of sweet baby heads. I joyed in the sheer heft of chunky cherub legs. I reveled in little arms lifted for embraces and cries of, "Hold you! Hold You!" And I believe with all my heart you will never be loved by any human, through time immemorial, the way you are loved by your baby or toddler. You are the world. And then the world expands.

And you find yourself staring down a telescoping road of time wondering at the speed of the journey. You stumble over the fork in the road that will be THEIR path. And you gaze forward, imagining.

I am prepared for this day.

I am devastated by this day.

I am overjoyed at this day.

I love who my daughter is becoming and am delighted to see God's grace and shaping in her life. Her stubborn streak infuriates me and comforts me. She will not be blown by every ill wind as her mother has so often been. She is stronger. She is prepared. She is more deeply rooted. She, who, at nearly 18, has never been kissed and does not date. She, who waits on God's perfect person and timing. She, who laughs readily and easily, and loves deeply.

She is ready.

And I? I will attend her and shake out the train of her future as it adorns her; not ready, and yet, not willing to hold her back. Go, my darling girl. Seek God's guidance in everything. Give Him all you are. Remember your gifts come from His hand. I pray His blessing on you. He will give you all you need and perfect his beauty within you.

I love you with my whole heart.

The preceeding photos are used by permission from an enchanting photographer, our dear young friend, Miss Sally Parish. You can contact her here. She is the sweetest young woman and gave us an incredible amount of time shooting "Bo's" photos on location. She is truly gifted and if you are in the Central Valley area of California, I would highly recommend you contact her for any photography work. Thank you, Sally, for the time we spent with you and the lovely way you captured our dear girl. We love you.

Copyright 2009

False Teeth and Pastors

My pastor has been on my mind and heart lately because he has been through so much in recent days. He is an incredible man with a true heart for God and for people and, when that's who you are, you go through a lot. He lives his faith. He's the real deal.

So naturally, this has led me to think of false teeth. Not that he has any, false teeth I mean, he has actual teeth (though I haven't tried to remove them so I'll do that and get back to you). But I had another pastor I dearly loved when I was four years old and he had enormous false teeth. This one fact can highly recommend you to four-year-olds, especially if you take the teeth out on demand. You must then extrude them from your mouth just far enough to resemble a scene from "Aliens." At this point you should snap and clack them a few times, and then suck them back in. What is not to love here?

I constantly demanded that this fabulous talent be demonstrated and he never let me down. In addition, from my diminutive perspective, he was at least thirteen feet tall. I would ask to be lifted up and he would perch me on his shoulders. This afforded me a view of the surrounding countryside as well as a direct look into his snapping jaws. I could bend over, twist my head around, and watch from two inches away with abject horror and complete fascination.

I had no idea this man was my pastor. His name was Brother Whitaker but every single man in our little backwater Southern Baptist church was Brother Something-Or-Other. Nothing about the title caused me any sort of appropriate awe or reverence. I presumed he had been created for my entertainment. Apparently, I paid no attention in church or I might have noticed him in the pulpit. I was too busy flirting with Ronnie Miller.

Ronnie Miller was about 18 years old and as handsome as a movie star. And he sported his own teeth. My mother always sat towards the front but Ronnie was in the back. Every time I would sashay by, and I made frequent excuses because I needed to take a good, long look at him in all his glory, he would talk to me. He would never fail to tell me he was going to marry me when I grew up. I believed him without doubt. On Sundays, I would smooth out my crinoline and shine my patent leather shoes to be sure I looked like marriage material. And he would not fail to remind me that we were an item.

One Saturday, he two-timed me and married a girl named Sharon. He walked her right up the aisle I had walked down a hundred times just to stare at him. She had nothing on me as far as I could tell and it made absolutely no sense. My heart was a shambles and I never loved again until I was eight. Even now I run into him at get-togethers and always remind him that he left me at the altar, sort of. That's how un-petty I am.

I soothed my little soul with dental entertainment. Brother Whitaker and his choppers were good medicine. Food helped, too. One time he took my brother to church camp and let me ride along up to Hume Lake. Those were the good old days when kids could stand in the front seat and launch through the windshield when you had to stop fast. Along the way he bought me a whole pack of Oreo cookies and a carton of milk. These were rare treats in my life. By the time we had traveled up and back and spent nearly a day, my milk was sour. I took a big drink, spit it across the room, and howled. In typical good-guy fashion he took me to the store and bought more milk. Some guys know how to treat a lady.

I will always wonder what became of Brother Whitaker and his teeth. He and his wife left our church not long after those days. I doubt he ever found a more appreciative audience for his special talent but he certainly laid down a fondness in my heart for pastors who are willing to go above and beyond.

And now, having come full circle, I appreciate a pastor who tends to my soul and does not feel the least compelled to share his dental work with me. So, maybe I won't check his teeth. He has been a gift from God and you should never look a gift pastor in the mouth, unless you're four.

Copyright 2009