Our little family corner of the cramped waiting room where we spent the day mostly people-watching and comparing our centimeter progression with the other families out there with us. 

John Samuel- the 2nd and 3rd confer in the waiting room. We’ll have to add the first and fourth for a picture soon! 

Well, to say I’m distracted right now would be an understatement. I feel like that squirrel that gets in front of your car and can’t decide which way to go, so he just stands there frantically looking both ways. You could probably already tell that I’m scattered by my absence around here. I think I’ve started nesting. Is grandmother nesting a thing? I’m trying to think ahead to everything in December from getting our Christmas food planned and bought to packing a bag in case we get a baby call in the night and about 89 other things in between. I never decorate this early, but I’ve put up just a few decorations here at home because we’ll actually celebrate Christmas at our townhome since it will be too soon for the new mother and baby to travel. That means I’ll have to put out some splashes of the season there, too, to set the mood for our Christmas gathering. The gifts are bought and wrapped and already on location, so that much is done. I had two summer babies in months when there was not one other thing going on, so this Christmas season due date thing is new and it’s no joke. 

It’s really been just the sweetest season. With the exception of the glaring and complete absence of cooler temperatures until yesterday, this fall has been a fun time of celebration. The expectant parents have been loved so generously with showers and Jack has been graciously celebrated by those who prayed for his arrival long before the news of him came. So many beautiful prayers have been voiced and special handmade heirlooms gifted and hostesses have gone to great lengths to make things just so. There have been a lot of tags removed from itty bitty sleeves and baby clothes washed in gentle detergent and little, tiny socks matched and folded. The final touches have been added to the nursery and they’re checking their lists and their bags are packed. They’ve taken their classes and installed the car seat and assembled many baby things. There’s even been a girl day for pampering the expectant mother with brunch, massages, and shopping. There are still, at most, 3 weeks to go, and I’m starting to feel like I did on Christmas Eve when I was a kid. Something big and exciting is coming, but I have to wait a little while longer. 

Last week, I even had a shower of my own. A surprise grandmother shower! I thought we were meeting up at a friend’s house for a Friendsgiving sort of gathering, but I was surprised when I saw extra guests and they announced it was a Punkin Party! My grandmother name, Punkin, is the nickname my Daddy gave me as a little girl, so there were little pictures of the two of us on the tables. Oh, how he loved babies and he’s missed holding so many of them. The small details were just the sweetest reminder of God’s goodness and faithfulness through the generations. Pumpkins were the theme and I enjoyed opening a table full of baby toys, books, and essential supplies to keep at our house. 

It’s been almost a quarter of a century since I was the guest of honor at a baby shower. Back then, there were huge playpens, bumper pads, Barney toys, Playtex nursers, and baby monitors that would pick up your neighbors’ cordless phone conversations. Now there are magnetic closures on sleepers, bottle sterilizers, oxygen monitors, and they wouldn’t dare put their babies in any of the contraptions we used. We wore big circus tents to cover our condition and these girls wear form-fitting clothes to showcase their bumps. Our diaper bags were brightly colored with some sort of baby-themed stitching embellishing the front and theirs look like designer bags that you’d never suspect as a vessel for carrying wipes and bottles. I suppose we weren’t the sophisticated pregnant people that they are today. I need to read up on the modern baby ways as I’m sure they’ve drastically changed since I last birthed a child at the turn of the century. Let me add study and preparedness research to my to-do list as I’ll want to be up to speed and not in Dr. Spock mode when I stay with them that first week. 

As people sent me pictures from Blair’s different showers, I’d see myself sitting there beside her looking like my mother did almost 25 years ago at Carson’s shower. In 2000, I sat there with my naturally dark hair and taut skin and she was in her 50’s and probably having a hot flash and trying to remember if she turned off the oven. We just celebrated her 82nd birthday last weekend and it hit me- by the time this little baby gets to be as old as Carson, I’ll be about her same age. As my friends and I watch our parents get older, we’ve started to notice some concerning signs of aging ourselves. One by one, we’re getting closer to the head of the line and we have no idea how we got there so fast. In my mind, I still see myself at about Blair’s age. My mother was just my age not long ago. And I have no idea how she got in my grandmother’s spot. Somebody really needs to slow down this ride. 

Wanting to enjoy all the goodness of the holiday season and baby season, this will be my last post of the year- except for Jack’s arrival announcement post whenever that might be. If he hasn’t come by the 15th, they’ll induce, so he will definitely be here for Christmas. Please keep praying for a safe delivery and healthy baby boy. We can’t wait to finally see the face of this miracle that God has so graciously given to our family. 

I’ve so enjoyed doing another year with you. Sometimes, we’ve limped along in a fog and, just when I thought I might throw in the towel, I’d get on a roll with some lucid thoughts. We celebrated 10 years of M&M this year. You cried with me when my heart was shattered over my sweet boy, Otis. You laughed with me about our anniversary trip from the lake of eternal fire. You held your breath with me as we waited for news about the embryo transfer. So many moments shared. You are faithful and I am beyond grateful for you. 

May God bless you and yours this Thanksgiving and Christmas season. We close out another year with thankfulness and joy and look to a new start with the hope and peace of the Christ child. He is the Giver of every good thing. 

Happy holidays to you!

JONI 

The year is 1977 and the night you’ve been waiting for is finally here. It’s Halloween and your heart is racing with excitement. You’ve watched the Charlie Brown special on CBS, colored the jack-o-lantern color sheets at school, had your class party with spider rings and cupcakes, won a cake at your church carnival, and now it’s finally showtime. 

Your mom is in the kitchen cooking supper a little early so you and your siblings can go trick or treating. You finish underlining the noun and verb in some sentences and working the mimeograph sheet of multiplication problems you had for homework. It was hard to think of your teacher as the kind of cold-hearted person it would take to give a kid homework on this exciting night of the year. You put your work in your Trapper Keeper- the one with the cute puppies on the front- and you slide it back into your book satchel. Before you latch the twist turn buckles, you grab your newest Weekly Reader to help pass the time that had slowed to a crawl. 

Your dad comes in from work and turns on Walter Cronkite. The news- the most boring program that comes on all day. But, it’s 6:00 and it’s on all three channels. Your mom is making a new thing called hamburger macaroni- her homemade version of the new boxed kind that’s all the rage. She announces that dinner will be ready as soon as the Brown ‘n Serve rolls are done and it’s time to wash hands. You go in the bathroom and grab a rose-shaped soap out of the pretty bowl and give your hands a quick wash. After eating a reasonable amount of macaroni, the five required green beans, and a roll, you’re dismissed from the table to get ready for the big night. 

Your brother is going to be a hobo. Your mom frayed some of his old jeans at the bottom and tore holes in the knees. She sewed patches on a t-shirt and painted a five o’clock shadow on his chin with some tempera paint. She added a stick from the yard with a bandana pouch tied on the end and he’s ready to go. Your little brother is the Incredible Hulk. He never misses an episode of Bill Bixby getting angry and having his clothes rip apart. He has a plastic mask with the elastic string around the back of his head and the coordinating plastic suit. He complains he can’t see but it doesn’t keep him from taking on the part. You’re Little Red Riding Hood and your mom has warned you not to scuff your black patent leather Mary Janes because they’re your Sunday school shoes. She made you a red cape with the sewing machine she got from Sears. She gets you a basket down from the top of her cabinets and puts your hair in pig tails to finish you off. Everyone is ready to go. Your mom can only find one plastic pumpkin, so she gives it to your little brother. She tells you to use your basket that’s part of your costume and she finds your big brother a paper bag from A&P for his candy-hauling vessel. 

You’ve got the whole neighborhood to pillage of all their candy. You start at your closest neighbor’s house. You see their Chevrolet Caprice Classic with the blue velour seats and the Gerald Ford sticker still on the bumper parked in the carport. That’s a good sign. Now you see the porch light is on- the second telltale sign that there’s candy to be had at this location. You ring the doorbell and your neighbor answers holding a bowl. She’s got the most beautiful green shag carpet and her stereo is playing Rita Coolidge. You see she’s got the TV turned to CHiPs. She carries on about how cute you all look and you realize it’s time to say those magical words that you’ve practiced in your head all week. “Trick or treat,” you all say in unison- you and a few other kids who’ve wandered up behind you. You hold your basket out and your siblings extend their various candy receptacles. The neighbor drops candy down to all of you and you hear the glorious thud of it hitting the bottom of your brother’s pumpkin. That was the sound of Halloween and the candy harvest had just begun. Your mom gives you a reminder of what to say for the bounty and you parrot the niceties. 

You dart from house to house collecting candy and popcorn balls and, in some unfortunate cases, apples, peppermint, and those awful peanut butter things in the orange and black wrappers. You hit every house with an illuminated porch light with the exception of the one on the hill. They keep to themselves and your parents don’t know anything about them. You keep walking past because you can’t be too careful about candy with hidden razor blades or poison. You hear that’s a big thing. Your little brother is getting ornery because his face is sweating in the plastic mask and he can’t breathe through the two small nostril holes. Your other brother’s knapsack came off of his stick four houses ago and his painted beard has flaked off. You still look pretty good except the cape is making your neck itch and your pigtails are lopsided. It’s time now to head home to count your riches and enjoy a little refined sugar before bed. After all, it’s a school night. 

You pour all the goodness out onto the floor. Your mom goes through it to see if her eagle eye detects any wrapper tampering. Your dad helps himself to one of your peanut butter bars with the brown striped wrappers. It’s time to get your trading done with your siblings, so you can move the candy to an undisclosed location to avoid any further thievery. Before negotiations take place, you know it’s important to group the candy into piles according to categories. Any seasoned trick-or-treater like yourself knows this helps identify the areas where you’re heavy and where you’re lacking. One large Tootsie Roll, 2 Big Bol candies that turn to gum, a root beer barrel, and a Butterfinger are traded off for a Banana Split, a chocolate BB Bat, 2 Bit-o-Honeys, and a Chick O Stick. Seems fair. Cinnamon Discs, Bazooka gum, wax lips, Bottle Caps, $100,000 Bars, Now and Laters, Sugar Daddies, Charms suckers, Pixie Sticks, Brach’s Royals, Space Dust, Neapolitan coconut candy- they’re all at the center of negotiations until every party is satisfied with the trades. As you untie your red cape and unbuckle your Mary Janes, you think of all the fun the night had brought- not to mention the glorious heap of confections. You just didn’t realize how fast the night would go. And as you head off to bed in your lopsided pigtails, you had no idea how fast your childhood would go. 

May we never outgrow the joy in little things- the way we did back then. 

Keep your light on for the kids. They’re only little once. 

Night-

JONI 

She’d put on her fanciest dress and crown for this most special day. Fashioned from the finest imported silk and hand-sewn lace, this stunning two-piece ensemble was a gift from one of her aunties for this joyful occasion and it made her feel like the queen she always knew she was. Ruby was turning 7 and was needing to feel especially pretty on this birthday as she was crossing over into the tumultuous menopausal years. Of course, her age was merely a vet’s estimate as her birth records were misplaced during her nomadic period and subsequent shelter sentence, but she could feel this birthday in her bones and joints and knew in her heart she was a woman entering the delicate change of life. 

That wasn’t the only clue. Weight had always been an issue for her with so little height to conceal even the slightest additions, but she’d noticed it was becoming increasingly difficult to maintain her slender waist and girlish figure. Yes, for years, that hourglass figure was what kept all the boys down the street coming to her yard to relieve themselves. Of all the neighborhood trees and shrubs they were interested in marking, they were most intent on marking hers and it had always been a boost to her confidence as a woman. Yes, she knew her allure wasn’t just her comely figure. She did, after all, always put a little extra sashay in her step and swoosh in her tail as she passed by their houses on walks with her humans. Aside from metabolic issues, there were other signs of aging she’d noticed, but she didn’t want to dwell on that today. It was a happy day and she wanted to keep on the sunny side. 

The humans had promised a fun outing to celebrate this milestone. She’d come to live with the family 6 years ago and, while they’d treated her well enough, she always thought she brought more to the table than they did. She did appreciate the warm bed and the way her humans tucked her in at night with fluffy blankets. Sure, she was enjoying the homemade dog food her mother human had started making in the crockpot- the simmering recipe of turkey, sweet potatoes, green beans, carrots, and rice was much preferred to the brown triangles of beef-ish kibble. And the trips in the truck to the country with her human dad were admittedly glorious. But, even after all of those considerations, she felt the scales were still tipped in their favor with all the services she’d provided them through the years. Security had become a real drain on her energies. Current presidential candidates didn’t have as many threats to their lives as these people. Just yesterday, she’d saved her mother human from the bug man by positioning herself between her and the lethal sprayer weapon and, just as she’d settled back down for a nap after that, the UPS man launched yet another attack on the home’s front entrance and she was again stirred to action. 

It wasn’t just the security responsibility that was taking its toll. She had to take the humans walking everyday for their exercise. For years, the humans’ vet had recommended walking them for their cholesterol and triglycerides, but it was becoming more and more of a chore to keep their numbers in the good range as they’d gotten older. Someone had to walk the humans because they certainly weren’t going to walk themselves. She thought about how vermin control also consumed much of her time. The non-stop flow of squirrels, moles, lizards, deer, cats, birds, rabbits, lions, tigers, and bears moving across the property had her barking overtime with their refusal to bring in more help. And, if not for her pre-dawn wake-up calls, there would really be no telling how long the humans would oversleep. She hesitated to even mention how she’d take it upon herself to sort the neighbor’s garbage into categories only to have her dad human come out in his pajama pants and undo all of her work. Still, she was happy with them for the most part. Despite her long work days, the crockpot delicacies and her mother’s habitual use of baby talk made the work conditions tolerable. Especially with the human children gone, she’d noticed an uptick in her mother human referencing her as the baby and that made her feel all goose-bumpy inside. 

Today, the humans were taking her out on the town for a celebration of her 7 years of life- give or take a little. She wasn’t sure where they were going, but she was certain it would be awfully nice. That’s when she decided to put on her best new dress and head outside to load up. 

After a drive in the truck with her considerable ears flowing in the breeze, a long walk through the woods, and time spent barking at the geese in the lake and squirrels in the trees, she loaded back up in the truck. That’s when she saw it in the distance from the truck window. A vision of loveliness- a beacon of beauty- the symbol of juiciness. Her dad human was driving toward the golden arches of culinary excellence and fine dining. Her mouth began to water as she thought about the all-beef patty with melty cheese and she prayed the ice cream machine was in working order. It was her lucky day. She gulped all the goodness as her crown drooped farther and farther down the side of her head from a full day of birthday fanfare and merriment. 

Tired, hot, and stuffed, it was time to head home and sleep off the ill-effects of the celebration. She stretched out on the back seat and thought how she probably did have it better than most dogs. She thought about the year she’d had and all the good times and the bad. She remembered how sad the humans were when Otis died and she saw how much they loved their animals. She guessed they probably loved her that much, too. Through the years, she’d been there for the humans and they’d been there for her. Sure, she still probably put in longer work weeks, but she knew she couldn’t be loved any more in return. And with that thought still in her mind, she drifted off to sleep and dreamed of squirrels and geese and melted cheese and the warm feeling of being loved by humans. What a lucky dog, she was. 

Happy Birthday, Ruby Miller, our loyal friend. 

JONI

Ruby asked that I share the dog food recipe I’ve been using. About 2 months ago, I started making her food to try to help her itching and it has made an incredible difference in the way she feels overall. She’s slimmed up a little and has so much more energy! She’s acting like a pup again. 

Ruby’s Delight

3 lbs of ground turkey or chicken 

1 1/2 cups of brown rice

4 cups of water- sometimes I use 1/2 unsalted bone broth and 1/2 water

3 bags of frozen veggies or fresh- I use frozen and switch it up each week. I’ve tried different combinations of sweet potatoes, green beans, chopped spinach, carrots, sweet peas, and broccoli. 

Cook on low for 6 or 7 hours. Stir it occasionally. She eats 2 cups a day and this makes 6 1/2 days worth. 

Bon Appetit! 

I’ve been an avid news watcher for most of my adult life. It’s not always been the detriment to mental health and killer of cheerfulness that it is today, but I do like to stay informed- which is kind of weird because “ignorance is bliss” is usually my go-to motto. I’m not really one to get anxious about the news, but I admit it does hit a little differently with our first grandbaby on the way. I’d backed off of my habit and had been on what you might call a news fast for the last couple of years. During my dieting, I found my general outlook skyrocketed, but an election cycle always draws me back in and, yes, I’ve fallen off the wagon. Even if I don’t sit and watch the news proper, it’s impossible to miss the headlines if you ever visit this thing called the internet. 

There’s so much going on in the world right now and, as an over-informed consumer of news, I’ll see if I can summarize it for you in case you’re in the dark. It will be a completely neutral synopsis. *The devastation from Hurricane Helene is almost incomprehensible and, while people are still being rescued and digging themselves out of that disaster, a more monstrous storm, Milton, is headed for central Florida as a historic category 5 hurricane. Floridians have been clamoring to find fuel to evacuate via jammed highways and interstates. *Helene’s victims are criticizing FEMA’s slow response and accusing the federal government of spending more money on humanitarian aid to Lebanon than on helping their own citizens. The government denies the claim and pledges their assistance as long as it’s needed. *VP Harris and Gov. Desantis are going back and forth as the media tries to fuel the controversy about who called or didn’t call who and who’s making the hurricane political. *There are reportedly some nervous household names as P. Diddy sits in prison and a very dark and disturbing underworld waits to be exposed. *A year after the attack on Israel, it remains at war with the terrorist groups, Hamas and Hezbollah, who still hold many of their hostages from that fateful day. Israel has taken out most of Hezzbolah’s leadership in the latest rounds of attacks. Iran bombed Israel last week and Israel plans to counterattack with vengeance as the world tries to encourage a cease fire. The Middle East looks as stable as a drunk man on a tight rope right now. *Pro-Palestinian protests are going on here at home and abroad and Jews are concerned with rising antisemitism. *President Trump returned to Butler, Penn to finish the rally that was cut short by the July assassination attempt that killed a former fire chief who was in attendance. *Dockworkers and port owners reached a tentative agreement after 14 ports were shutdown for 2 days due to workers striking for more money and keeping automation from taking their jobs. They’ll negotiate a permanent contract in January. *America’s largest water utility company in New Jersey was hit with a cyberattack last week. The company serves 24 states and the full impact is still unknown. *Ukraine struck a major Russian oil terminal that provided fuel for their war effort. Opinions are split about our ongoing and costly support of their conflict with Russia. *An Afghan man in Oklahoma has been arrested by the FBI and charged with planning a terror attack on Election Day here in the U.S. *The stock market took quite a tumble yesterday but rebounded some today. 

Those are the high spots but add in the other 99 lower profile headlines we inadvertently see while we scroll on our phones or listen to our radio in the car. That doesn’t even include the political back and forth and non-stop ads. Mix in some local and state news that only your area knows about and add in the concerns from your circle of family, church, and friends. By the time we get done heaping all that news and information on ourselves, it’s no wonder we feel weighted down and defeated. Studies show that negative news increases our consumption and the media is a consumption-obsessed business, so they feed us a steady diet of it all day. Studies have also found our over-exposure to negative news causes anxiety, depression, and despondency. 

Our grandparents got one or two newspapers a week and their knowledge of the world outside their local area was limited to what was printed on those sheets plus short snippets on the radio or a television news time slot. No 24-hour news channels and certainly no phones in their pockets with minute by minute updates from the entire globe. It’s too much for a mind to process and a heart to absorb. So, how do Christians stay informed and engaged without getting sucked down the rabbit hole and overwhelmed by things they can do little to change? Don’t think I’m about to tell you because I have no idea. I was hoping you could tell me. 

Last week, we were out of a few things including milk and conditioner so I ran to Wal-Mart. I can do without a lot of things but milk and conditioner aren’t on that list. Frizzy-headed milk drinker here. Anyway, with all the ominous headlines of strikes and shortages and more inflation and the Middle East rolling around in my head, I was in the hair care section smelling all the different Native conditioner scents when I heard the most lovely sound. I stopped and listened. It was happy and cheerful and brought up all kinds of warm thoughts and feelings for me. I chose my conditioner and decided to follow the joyful song luring me along like the Pied Piper. It was my favorite- beautiful Christmas music. Nat King Cole, then Brenda Lee, then Bing Crosby singing familiar favorites. The inviting melody led me to a wonderland of Christmas trees and lights and displays of ornaments and decorations. Yes, I know it’s only October, but being surrounded by reminders of a warm and inviting season made me forget for a moment that the world outside the Wal-Mart Christmas department was in a state of disarray and utter chaos. With just a different kind of song playing that stood out from the rest, I’d found my way to a peaceful place. A contented place. A soothing place. 

There are people walking around us now who are carrying the weight of the world on their shoulders. They’re stressed about making ends meet, their health, their job, their children, or maybe they just watched the news or scrolled through social media for more than 20 seconds. There aren’t many places we can go and not hear the bad news. It’s loud and obtrusive and finds us wherever we are. I’m not trying to place any spiritual motives behind Wal-Mart’s retail ploys, but I was thinking how we should be more like that Christmas department. As Christians, individually and collectively as the Church, we should be that sweet tune of peace and joy that draws people in from the chaos and confusion. An inviting sound that has them coming to see what that lovely commotion is that they hear. A happy tune, a different tune that can’t help but stand out above the oppressive background hum of the world. If we could be something that’s so wonderfully out of place. Something that’s so beautifully out of the norm. Something so uniquely enticing they want to come and find the tranquility that Jesus gives. They have a million people telling them what’s wrong with the world and a thousand places they can go to hear the bad news. If there’s anywhere they should hear the peace, hope, and calm of the Good News, it’s where God’s people are. It doesn’t mean that the world isn’t on fire, it just means that our hope isn’t dictated by what’s going on in this world. Our future is in another place and that’s why our song should sound so beautifully different. 

I guess I have to ask myself if I talk more about the good news or the bad? Eek! Maybe I need to change my tune. 

God, be with the people of Florida and those who have already lost so much. 

JONI 

Early last week, I was moving my credit/debit cards, health insurance card, and driver’s license over to my travel wallet. It was mid-afternoon and we were flying to D.C. the next morning. I was trying to think through everything I’d need and that’s when I noticed my license had expired. Not wanting to take any chances at the airport with an expired ID, I looked at the time and panicked. I’d been at home all day packing and cleaning the house for the dog/house-sitter and my appearance suggested as much, but I couldn’t worry about that. I had to get to the highway patrol office before they closed and get this delinquent matter taken care of in case it would cause a travel problem. I looked in the mirror and realized just how bad it really was, so I smeared my face with powder and swiped my lips with some color and applied a little defining eyeliner. If anything makes me feel sickly, it’s no lipstick or eyeliner. 

I made it to the highway patrol office, where I was given a number and told to sit down. The last time I was there, I’d waited for 3 hours and, frankly, I didn’t have 3 hours to spare on this day. Surprisingly, my bottom hadn’t hit the chair good before they called my number- B344. Woah, that’s me, I realized! I wanted to yell BINGO as I jumped up looking for the station assigned to me. 

Now there are a lot of good things to be said about the Mississippi Highway Patrol, but their emphasis and commitment to friendly and personable service in their Driver’s License Department is not one of them. Most of the workers there are women and they look as if they wish they could just taze you and move on with their day. Their natural gifts of being snippy and degrading are really wasted at their desk jobs. Their personalities really could better shine at, say, death row of a maximum security prison. So, that’s why when you walk up to their desk, you better have your stuff in order unless you enjoy public humiliation. Clearly state what you need, have the proper paperwork in your hand, and follow commands quickly and completely. Don’t make them repeat themselves. They don’t play and nothing is funny to them. It’s a good time for sure. 

Anyway, I told her what I was there for and she asked a few questions and then told me to stand in front of the blue backdrop for my picture. This is where things got awkward. It’s hard to smile or look natural when the photographer is so ornery you’re trying to watch her hands for any moves toward her holster. “Look at the blue circle,” she said in her gruff, monotoned voice. No warning or countdown or prompting to smile- just click. I waited nervously for the big reveal. I’d been cleaning toilets and folding laundry until 30 minutes earlier and here I was waiting for the picture that would go everywhere with me for the next four years. She handed me the final product and it was worse that I could have ever imagined. It made me wish the mugshot photographer had been available. I looked like a deer in headlights- a pale, sweaty, terrified deer who was being photographed by an armed hunter. I don’t care what it costs. I will be going back for a remake. You know, like picture make-up day at school. I told Davis if something happens to me before I get back down there, he is not to let them flash my license photo up on the news while they tell about it. 

So, before I go on to the rest of our trip, there was a redeeming twist. We were in the endless security line at Reagan National about to head home. The guy who’s checking facial recognition and ID is passing everyone through after a quick glance…. except me. No, after looking at me and then looking down at the license, he told me to step aside. He asked for additional proof of identification and what music that was to my ears. I didn’t care how long he detained me or if Homeland Security was en route. Just knowing he didn’t think I looked like my license photo was a real morale booster. 

We had a great time on our trip. We met up with American Family Association/American Family Radio on one of their Spiritual Heritage Tours. Stephen McDowell was the historian who traveled with us and we learned so much about the providential beginnings of America. In a group with fellow Christians, we got the history including the spiritual foundation of our nation- the stuff the local tour guides omit. The AFA, based in Mississippi, was founded by Tim Wildmon who was also on the trip and a whole lot of fun. They do annual trips to D.C., Colonial Williamsburg, Boston, and the Holy Land. You can click here if you want more information on those. 

When we met up with the group at the Arlington hotel, we had no idea what to expect. Having never been on one of these kinds of trips, we didn’t know how large the group was or how old they’d be. Honestly, we thought we might be the only ones not on Social Security and blood thinners. What we found when we got there were around 120 people of all ages from Iowa to New Mexico to Pennsylvania and everywhere in between. There was a mom with her young sons, parents with their teenagers, couples, moms with their grown daughters. There were young adults all the way up to senior adults and we fell somewhere in the middle. I can honestly say we thoroughly enjoyed ourselves and would recommend it for anyone who loves history. 

The places where God, scripture, and Christian faith are mentioned in our nation’s capital are almost innumerable. It’s also in inconspicuous places I had no idea about until last week. It’s etched in marble, inscribed in bronze, engraved on brass, stamped in aluminum, woven in tapestry, painted on canvas, chiseled in stone, and handwritten on parchment and still a growing part of our nation today believes God had nothing to do with our country’s beginnings or success and that He has no legitimacy or bearing on our modern lives. There have been miracles in battles that can be explained no other way except God’s protection and favor on our young nation. He spared our forefathers so they could set the foundation of America. In different battles, George Washington is said to have had his hat shot off of his head, four bullet holes shot in his clothing, and two horses shot and killed underneath him, but he was unharmed. He lived to win the American Revolution, become a key figure in creating our Constitution, and was, of course, our first president. He credited God’s providential care for his survival. To be reminded of the unedited, untwisted version of our American history- the good and the bad- from a Christian perspective was an inspiring and timely reminder of the gift we’ve been given and the responsibility we have as God’s people to be engaged in order to preserve it for our children and their children. You know what they say about silence and consent. American Family Association/American Family Radio also have apps and newsletters which are great ways to stay informed on issues that we may not even realize are happening and gives us convenient ways we can voice our support or opposition to things going on in our government and country. 

It’s election season and we know what a loud and dreadful time that always is- no matter your party. We just have to make it 41 more days. We can do this, people! Let’s just be kind to our fellow citizens and don’t forget to vote! Four years is an awfully long time for a bad president…..and a bad driver’s license photo. 

Y’all have a great week! 

JONI

“The more thoroughly a nation deals with its history, the more decidedly will it recognize and own an over-ruling Providence therein, and the more religious a nation will become; while the more superficially it deals with its history, seeing only secondary causes and human agencies, the more irreligious will it be.” -A.W. Foljambe

It was the 6th day of September- only 6 days since she’d dragged herself over the finish line of another miserable southern summer. As was always the case with her, it was an ugly and pathetic finish, but it was indeed a finish, and that was all that mattered to her. Another Mississippi June, July, and August were in the books and, while she didn’t like to wish her life away, it seemed like the only option in those hottest, most humid, and unbearable months. For 92 days, she’d sweated, perspired, and sweltered which had caused her patience to sink to dangerous levels and her mood to descend into the crotchety range. She didn’t know why she felt this way about summer, but she always had- even as a child- and the hatred had only intensified as she traveled deeper into the weeds of menopause. After 56 summer endurance competitions, she was well aware that September does not the cool weather bring when living in the Deep South, but September 1 was always a psychological victory for her. She took comfort in knowing that the worst was behind her even as sweat rolled down her back and her pulse pounded in her flushed face. - excerpt from Joni’s memoirs, Hell’s Not For Me

We’ve all made it to September and I’m just completely giddy about it. I’ve even felt this strange movement of the air already. It’s been a long, long time, but I think I remember the phenomenon being called wind. It was hot wind- like a convection oven, but moving hot air is a modest improvement to still hot air. I’ve filled my pumpkin jar with candy corn and have my fall candles doing their thing. The sound of college football on TV, the azure blue sky, and the smell of pumpkin-apple-vanilla-maple-clove-cider-spice all in the air at once have awakened a part of me that dies each summer. I realize we’ll have many ups and downs in temperature yet to traverse. There will be many “fool’s fall” days where we’re tricked into thinking the heat has finally passed, but all southerners know that Santa will come and go before we can really be sure. We’ve experienced enough Thanksgivings in shorts and Christmases with the AC running to know the war has not been won. We’re not naive about what stage of fall we’re in- but we can pretend, can’t we? 

This last month leading up to fool’s fall has really been fun….and exhausting. We’ve had a busy few weeks and three BIG Saturdays in a row. We had the gender reveal for the expectant parents and found out we’re getting a grandson, Jack! That was all the information I needed to start picking up little things here and there. Punkin is just beside herself. The next weekend, we moved into a townhome we bought in the area where both of our kids live. I guess you could call it the grandparent starter kit. We’ll have a home away from home for when we go visit or help with the baby. We’ll be 15 minutes from one of our children and 20 minutes from the other. We have no interest in moving. Let me repeat- no interest in moving. Our life is in Mississippi and that’s where we’ll continue to live, but it’ll be nice to have a place of our own to stay since we’re sure our desire to see Jack will be stronger than their desire to see us coming. And, finally, last Saturday, we went to the first Mississippi State football game (got soaking wet) and we met Carson’s girlfriend’s parents for the first time. It was a great day and we loved them! We’re 2 for 2 in the category of significant others’ family compatibility and likability. You hear horror stories where that’s not the case, but I’m happy to say our kids chose wonderful families to bring into the fold.