My Mother's Day.....How Was Yours?

This post falls into the diary category but you're welcome to read it. I don't like that feeling - the one that happens about every two hours when I wonder, "What just happened?" or "What in the heck did I do yesterday?" This is my written memory of the good, the bad, and the redeemed.

Blessed to be teaching Sunday School. LOVE those kids and many are graduating next week. OH MY WORD! Thinking about leading a college Sunday School class in the fall because I can't let them go. And it would be all girls, well, young WOMEN, and most are going to school or working locally. Wouldn't that be fun?! Just not sure I'm really qualified. I didn't get my head on straight until...........hold on........let me go look in the mirror.

Honored my mother for bringing me into this world. Took her roses and a cookbook. Visit went south for oh-so-many reasons that are insane but the MAIN THING IS, I tried. Then, due to the maximum frustration of that visit and feelings of wanting to relocate to Mars except for the fact that it's so darn close to EARTH, I tried to reschedule my own Mother's Day. Glad I didn't because.....


My daughter made me a lovely dinner while I rested and read (and she had cleaned and detailed my bedroom a few days before!), and both kids gave me cards - The Wild Man made me laugh, of course, and Bo made me cry with words of encouragement only she could write - and George MacDonald books and music to, "soothe the savage breast." (Sing to me Allison Krause.......) It even works wonders on my savage brain.

And Grizzly? Thank you for fixing the sprinklers and computer for my folks while we were there. You tried, too. And you touched my heart by asking if I wrote that poem on the blog a few days ago and being amazed by that - in a very sweet way and saying so, even AGAIN, in your card. What woman doesn't want to be amazing to her husband once in awhile?

You three redeemers of the day.......I LOVE you with my whole heart. I am seen. I am loved. I am blessed. When I'm tempted to go all "Thelma and Louise" into the canyon, you always take my car keys. What a crew.



Copyright 2009

"Calling All Writers"

This is an alert for all my writing friends. Most of us know there are writing competions throughout the year through different venues but this one is well publicized and offers lovely prizes. Writer's Digest is having its annual writers competition. Categories are varied and include:

• Inspirational Writing (Spiritual/Religious)


• Memoirs/Personal Essay


• Magazine Feature Article


• Genre Short Story (Mystery, Romance, etc.)


• Mainstream/Literary Short Story


• Rhyming Poetry


• Non-rhyming Poetry


• Stage Play


• Television/Movie Script


• Children's/Young Adult Fiction

There is a small entry fee for each piece but you may enter any, or all, categories. Grand prize is $3000 and a trip to New York City to meet with editors and publishers. And there is a First Prize winner in each category of $1000 and perks. Deadline is May 15, 2009 but late entries may be submitted for a few weeks after with an additional processing fee.

I imagine the competition will be stiff and the odds of winning will be long so I won't be losing any sleep over my entries. But I'm entering anyway because the odds are ZERO if I don't give it a shot. I hope you feel the same way and send something in. Many of you are talented writers and we would all be thrilled for you if you won! Anything! At all! I hope you go for it.

Here's a Shocker!

My sweet friend, Debbie, over at Jadehollow, made this little button for me.

Why? Well, because she is caring, thoughtful, and wonderful, of course, but also because she selected me for this award:


It's from a blog party she participated in and it could only be given to one person. And she chose ME! And she did a whole write up on me and linked people to different articles and even included some of YOUR comments. I was floored. When I popped over there for my usual read I just merrily scrolled down to see who the lucky person was going to be and - I'm dead serious here - I wasn't crossing my fingers, or legs, or eyes that it would be me because it honestly never even dawned on me to consider it.

So, when I saw my name and this darling button, my eyes did that thing where they pop out and lay on my chest. (I'm sure you've heard me mention that attractive talent I have. Once in awhile they roll right down on the floor and peer around corners and that's how I know what my kids are up to.)

I could not believe she selected me. A Mothering Award? I tried to tell her she really might retract her selection if she knew the whole story and I tried to give her some insider information, but she still hasn't pulled it down.

Maybe I should have shared more, like:

• It takes dynamite to blast my kids out of bed. I am a failure at discipline.
  
  
• Most days the answer to the query, "What's for breakfast?" is met with, "Can you not see the cereal box, bread, toaster, etc.? Are you unable to scramble eggs?
  
  
• I let my two-year-old son ride a skateboard naked down the street. Yes, I have video.
  
  
• I rant and rave about the exact same issues and always receive the exact same results. I do not know why I have not recorded these sessions and simply hit the "play" button. I could nap during presentations. Someone once said, "Yelling at your kids to make them behave is like trying to drive your car by honking the horn." Yeah, well, when you're locked in traffic sometimes that horn feels like just the thing!
  
  
• My kids once got into a fist fight over control of the television. They broke the tv control button to the tune of a hundred bucks and gave each other a good thrashing before I could get to them. Bo had a huge bruising bite mark on her arm and TWM had such a perfect, bright red slap impression on his back you could have framed it and used it for a hand print for Mother's Day. And this is one of their fondest memories.
  
  
• I can burp like nobody's business. It's a gift born from years of tummy issues. I once read a little book to my kids about helping them form memories of their favorite things. It prompted them with questions like, "When you go to bed at night, what things do you hear in the house that comfort you?" Now, I am NOT lying here when I tell you I have spent countless hours reading to and singing to my children. They know every lullaby that's ever been written and could quote chapter and verse from the volumes they've heard. This was to be my hour of appreciation. My heart filled to the brim as I awaited my longed for response about the joyousness with which I'd filled so many end-of-the-day moments. They looked at each other and almost telepathically responded in unison, "Your nighttime burp." "What?!" I asked, incredulous. "Yeah," they happily replied. "When you wander around the house putting stuff away or starting laundry after we're already in bed, you always have one big burp and it's so comforting. We know everything is just like it should be." I told you I channel a fifth grade boy. I just didn't know he visited every night and they'd like him better than me. It's good to know the stories they'll tell THEIR children.

(How I see myself)

(How my children see me)

That's just a small sampling of my mothering skills and the loving and gentle way in which my children are guided daily. I would tell you more but they are having a knock-down-drag-out over who should have to wash the pans and who got out of it last time. This seems like a good time to push that "play" button.

I leave you with these thoughts:

"It would seem that something which means poverty, disorder and violence every single day should be avoided entirely, but the desire to beget children is a natural urge." Phyllis Diller

"Parents often talk about the younger generation as if they didn't have anything to do with it." Haim Ginott

"You don't really understand human nature unless you know why a child on a merry-go-round will wave at his parents every time around - and why his parents will always wave back." William D. Tammeus

I am so blessed by all of you and I wish you the most wonderful of Mother's Days. May your children rise up and call you "Blessed!" And these are for you. :-)

With Love,

Robynn

Copyright 2009

Let HER Entertain You.....

Alright.

You deserve a laugh. I can't do better than this today. I think she captured childhood and maybe even humanity. Mind you, same mom, same exposure to God and church for both kids. Here ya go: Why We Scratch Our Heads as Parents.

Reflections.....

Do not let me linger too long alone within my thoughts because it's there the hard work is done.

When I am all consciousness

I swim in breaking waves and grasp about for tethers

upon which to anchor my vitality

through my writing.

This bauble attracts me and I set out

with a mad stroke to capture it.

That object looms into view

and I backstroke with abandon toward its bobbing form

upon my mental waters.

I am even content to remain ostensibly stationary

for I still create energy and waves

by my treading.

These are the places of felicity

where frolicking lends itself to humor

and ideas crash and spray against the rocks

in gleaming sunlight.

But left stranded on shore

without my mad splashing to distract me

and the impressions and images that are ever with me

constantly beckoning

overtake me.

I rise to follow the gentle swing

of the ebb and flow below the fray.

I sway downward past the wildness of the surface

into the muddy silt of stillness

where distraction is spent

and light softly shares its shadow

and fragments.

It is there

through opaque and muted contours

clarity is born.

But birth

for all its loveliness

is also mewling and messy.

(By Robynn Reilly)

And it takes time. It takes the very thing we feel we can least afford. But without it, nothing would continue and change could not be effected. We travail, and after a time, we pray that our laboring has not been in vain.

My thoughts there have given birth to sadness and great compassion for those who are wounded within our homeschooling group, but it has also come with courage.

I could write volumes here about outlandish remarks, judgements, and bullying directed toward women and children by a few men within this local community, and believe me when I say my flesh is sorely tempted to create a list. But it would change little and reduce me.

What I feel compelled to do is to stop grumbling (which does nothing) and be brave enough to call behavior what it is. Some things are worth standing up for and speaking out against, especially when it tears at the very fabric of something so precious.

I can pray for their censure so more are not injured, and perhaps that will happen. But I also realize contrite and humble hearts are necessary and people must be willing to change. I struggle to have faith or vision for such a possibility as these are old, established patterns. Hubris, adorned in the torn and tattered clothes of false piety, seems rarely to recognize its own near nakedness. But I am required to believe change is possible. I don't get a pass.

And then I want to shout from the rooftops to the injured: "This isn't us! This isn't who we strive to be! Please don't see us through the distorted lens that has been provided!" I want to rush in and fix the hurts and tend to the wounds. I want my own pain to be healed. Mostly, I want to see our community lovingly supporting each other and operating in ways of blessing even when we differ. Maybe, especially when we differ.

So, what do I do?

I have to recognize my own heart must be examined everyday and that's a full time, never-ending job where ugliness can take up residence too easily. I must strive to be the thing I long for; I must pray for change; I'm required to have courage when it's called for and to seek wisdom I may not possess. I must have an abundantly grateful heart for the large numbers of men and women within this community who are loving and kind servants, and who possess the courage, gentleness, and self-sacrificing willingness to serve in humility. They are the majority! I must rejoice and be glad!

And finally, I have to swim hard for the surface because it's time to breathe fresh air and exult in the wonderful absurdities of life. They make me laugh and I miss laughing with YOU. Because it really is true......."A merry heart (DOES!) doeth good, like a medicine!" (Proverbs 17:22 KJV)

"....weeping may endure for a night but joy cometh in the morning." (Psalm 30:5b KJV)

Copyright 2009 - All Rights Reserved

"Ima Dud" by C.U. Less.........

I like to laugh. Did you know that?

What I don't like, yea, even DETEST is to be a project.

Consequently, I have wrestled with whether to simply be absent without explanation - is that A.W.O.E. (as is "Eh, WOE is me?) - or do I have enough confidence in our relationship to let you into my world? Will I cause you to think of me as morose, a flop, a pariah, the one to avoid at parties because all they can talk about is themselves and their latest malady?

It has been my privilege to know people with the direst, even fatal, health issues who, when you visited them, managed to minister to you and leave you with a smile. Obviously, that was not true on those really awful days that serious illness invariably brings and then it was my privilege to try and offer comfort. But as soon as they could, they were encouraging others and drawing attention away from themselves. This seems to have everything to do with their measure of faith. They see life in the bigger picture. They know where they're going when they transition out of this visible world. My level of illness, in its present form, does not seem to threaten my life and yet no one can give me a prognosis.

I struggle with a nerve disease that causes me small muscle loss and rotten pain at times. It is idiopathic meaning, after countless doctors and tests, they have no idea what causes it. It is progressive. So far (eleven years) it has been slow most of the time, though never leaving me pain free or without symptoms. Occasionally, for no known reason, it rachets up and just takes out muscles at will and leaves me wiped out. It affects my legs, feet, tongue, soft palate, and throat. For the last three weeks it has been escalating.

I have done what I can but the medicines that help to make the pain tolerable cannot be handled by my body. A response within me causes my body to build porphyrins when I take them. Porphyrins are a blood byproduct everyone makes and most people can clear, but I can't very easily. These porphyrins have the potential to cause further nerve trauma, as well as liver and spleen damage. I've gone through two of those episodes already and they left me very ill and pretty wiped.

The pain is intense at times and I am only able to squeeze out four or five hours of broken sleep at night, for weeks on end. That, of course, makes things worse and the cycle continues. My throat is most affected right now making me feel like swallowing is difficult - and my feet and legs feel as though I've laid them on the barbeque. Not a pleasant sensation.

And I wish it didn't but emotional upset strains my system and always increases symptoms. (One reason I love the upbeat and like to laugh!)

Friday night, I came up against a man in our circle who is in charge of some important functions. He made decisions directed at me which caused me to miss a pivotal night in my daughter's life. It was a night I had longingly anticipated for many years and had dreamt of enjoying. The moment passed and it is gone to me forever. What's done is done. But it did not pass without my grieving it and spending a goodly amount of time in tears. And, of course, that made all my symptoms worse.

I did get test results back from the doctor and have been given some instructions that are time consuming. This will cause me to have to take a little time away from blogging. That means I may not visit you nearly as often as my heart would desire though I will post as much as I can. If my failure to visit you would keep you from visiting me as well, I completely understand. The blogging world is symbiotic and we all try to support one another. I won't be able to keep up with my part for a bit. I will drop in sometimes and as often as I can but it won't be nearly as often as I want to. Please forgive me in advance. I love all of you and truly look forward to reading each of your posts. All together you compile the most fantastic magazine that exists!

Anyway, just think. With any luck, you skimmed this article and missed most of the ridiculous details. Had we been at a party together, I would have had you backed into a corner and you would have been longing for a meteor to land on the house. Now you are free to run away screaming.

I promise to be back with my attempts to entertain you and TRULY TRULY do not intend to, nor do I WANT to talk about my health. Who of us doesn't struggle with SOMEthing (as I've said before)? Life is hard at times. But it is also RICH! Thank you for loving me and visiting me and please know that you are one of the brightest spots in my life and I PROMISE not to make my health a regular feature. It may bore me even more than it does you! (Okay, I realize that is NOT possible. Insert retraction here.)

MUCH Love,

Robynn

Copyright 2009

Something Wicked That Way Went............

I understand some of you are wanting to know the rest of the story of Max the Menace. It's pretty brief so I'll just call it an epilogue.

Before Max shared his breakfast with me, as it were, we had added another ball python from the collection of an aged herpetologist who became too long in the fangs to care for the snakes he had acquired. Now we had two. We enjoyed our foray into this serpentine world as part of our animal craziness and endless search to appreciate God's creatures which, yes Eddie Bluelights, included spiders.

Our biggest event came when the snake cage lid was left unsecured one night. Both snakes regularly tested its strength and would nose and push against it. That perseverance paid off one evening after we had all gone to bed. The two of them slithered their way to freedom. Our second snake was located fairly quickly the next morning but Max evaded us. Every corner was investigated and all dark places were illuminated. Max was not to be found. We could only surmise he had somehow escaped through an open window or door and headed for more heavily infested rat pastures.

About a month later, while beginning to divest ourselves of rats altogether (Jack - our dear and friendly rat companion had eaten his last piece of cheese - and Jill lived on to spite him), we were moving cages and cleaning in the garage. As Grizzly moved a panel pushed tightly against one wall, there, to our astonished eyes, lay Max. He was coiled comfortably in between a couple of two-by-fours and was living in the wall. Apparently, he had followed the vibrations emanating from the constant scurrying of the rats in the cages and planted himself near a ready food source. Unable to actually access the source of the vibration, he had hunkered down much like a starving urchin child in front of a bakery window. How he navigated his way there will remain a mystery for the ages but we were all glad he had returned if for no other reason than to know where he was at night! We had no concerns for our safety. (No one in this family is in danger of being lightweight enough to become a snake meal.) But, nevertheless, one does not like to imagine the feel of slithering glacial skin gliding against your leg under the bedcovers.

Not long after, it was decided we had exhausted our snake adventures and were ready to move on. We found a worthy home for both our reptile friends, divested ourselves of rats, and closed the chapter of comfortably draped snakes and undigested rodents. No more would I sit at the computer feeling shoulder massages or lurching warnings. But our animal adventures were far from over. And, knowing us, it's quite likely we'll find ourselves boarding a hippopotamus or crocodile. (And I know you'll believe me when I tell you I actually DO have a hippopotamus story.......!)

Happy "Tails" to you!

Copyright 2009