I don’t pretend to be a theologian.  I wouldn’t have to run my mouth very long to convince you of that.  In the wake of all the loss and storm devastation that has blown across the country, I wouldn’t want to try to wade out too deep in trying to explain why bad things happen to people as if I know exactly how God works.  And I certainly wouldn’t want to put on any airs like I never go to Him with questions and disappointments about losses and tragedies that we suffer, because.......well, I do.   


Even though my load has been generally light so far, I have rounded a few corners in my life to find a dreaded situation staring back at me.  When I got there, though, it wasn't like I'd imagined it would be at all.  What I needed to face it was already there....the calm, the hope, the strength, the resources.....it was all there.  Those things didn't come from inside of me, but from the One, who knit me together, who knew my strengths didn't match what I was about to face....He filled in the gaps and stepped in to help me. 
There are so many stories emerging of people, who died in an effort to shield someone they loved from harm.  Daddies shielding children.  A childcare worker holding a baby.  A boyfriend protecting his girlfriend.  There are also friends, volunteers, and emergency workers, who have left their own homes to go and help with whatever is needed.  Love is alive and well in the hearts of the American people.  God is providing. 
     

We had a great, full, busy weekend, but seeing as how the weather is a bit sketchy here right now, I'm going to be ever so brief today. 

We went to see Blair in order to haul another load of her stuff home and took in a baseball game, while we were there.  After the 3 1/2 hour game, we waited outside the locker room for the baseball team to come out as Carson wanted some autographs on his cast.  One by one, the players would emerge with fatigue all over their faces from the long, grueling game only to be met by a sea of boys holding out their baseballs and hats......(and cast) to be signed.  They were gracious in their weariness and signed every item that was offered up and posed for pictures and whatnot.  Very nice boys, indeed.     

I've been on the phone with Blair, who's huddled in the hallway of her dorm.  I feel pretty good about where she is and how she's being cared for.  Then, I talked to my little brother, who's traveling through Kentucky, on his way home from a bicycle race in Iowa.  I'm not usually one to get too worked up about the weather, but it is a little hairy with some of our chicks out of their nests.  Prayers for all of those in the path of this weather!

Stay safe!        
 

Yesterday, I got a call from the school, while I was out running errands.  "Joni, this is the school nurse."  Every mother, who's ever gotten this call, stops in her tracks and reviews a mental list of ailments and injuries....wondering which one the nurse is about to name.  Stomach virus (oh, please don't let it be the stomach virus), fever, sore throat, rash...and I have the added worry of Carson's peanut allergy.  I was bracing myself for the verdict when she caught me off guard with......."Carson may have broken his thumb in basketball practice." 

I can handle throw up.  I can handle blood.  I can handle mucus.  I cannot, however, handle bones that are pointing directions, in which they should not be pointing.  I just can't.  I don't know why.  It's just something I don't deal with well.  Just the thought of it makes me squeamish and, of course, Davis was working out of town.   

I rushed to the school to pick him up as I knew that, since I was the only parental unit in the vicinity, I would have to put on my big girl pants and deal with it.  Thankfully, when Blair broke her arm at 15, Davis was there to cover up the gnarly, disfigured limb with a jacket or there would've been two of us laid out the ER. 

Anyway, Carson got in the car and I knew I had to look, so that I could evaluate the situation with my vast expanse of medical knowledge.  "Don't get sick. Don't get sick", I convinced myself.  I took a deep breath as he lifted the ice pack and the second I saw the thumb, I knew it was broken.  "Ok, I've seen enough", I said as my head swooned.  A mother's eye can detect if one of her son's phalanges is even slightly out of whack.  I know the back of his hand like the back of mine.
So, that was a recap of my last 24 hours, as riveting as it was.  I know this post has had you all on the edge of your seats, but it's all that I've been doing over the last day and since I don't make this stuff up......this is all I've got, people.  We're the Millers and we're doing our part to keep the health care industry booming.

  

Whew....What a busy, but wonderful, weekend! 

I've been enjoying all the beautiful Easter pictures on social media.  The darling children, the blooming flowers, the mouthwatering food, the perfect hair.  Let's get real though.....sometimes, things aren't picture perfect.  I wanted to celebrate some of those cutting room floor moments from our weekend.  (I wish this idea had come to me before I deleted some of our sure enough unflattering photos...oh, well.)     

The weekend started when Blair came home Thursday night for Easter break and since there are only three weeks before she's home for summer, she brought a load of stuff home with her. Her roommate's mother is a very talented interior designer, therefore, thanks solely to her, here is what their dorm room looks like.  Unbelievable, huh?  It reminds me of my old dorm room in that mine also had two beds.  I think the similarities stop there.  This picture will help you to get a handle on what moving her home will entail and how much storage space it will require.  Anyway, when this beautiful room is dumped off at your house one load at a time..........   

On Friday, Blair had her grandmother over so that she could demonstrate how she could make sweet potato biscuits.....something she'd learned from one of her professors, while helping her prepare for a university sponsored breakfast.  There we were....three generations of women in the kitchen.  Oh, I got the cutest pictures of the two of them cooking, while they both were wearing Blair's great-great grandmothers' vintage aprons.  This picture found its way to Facebook as it so sweetly portrayed a special moment spent between a grandmother and granddaughter.....
While this one.....well, not so much.  Clearly, here, Blair has become frustrated with one of the other generations in the room.  I will leave it to your imagination as to which one.
Carson woke up at 5:30 am on Saturday morning to go fishing with our associate pastor, who is so good to take up time with the young people in our church.   In retrospect, however, it may not have been a good call, on my part, with it being on the day of family gatherings and a photo appointment.  They caught 36 fish and it was delicious, all fried up with homemade fries.......
But as our company rang the doorbell.........
  
 It's all fun and games until......."Mom, go on!!!!" 
We stayed around after church and visited with friends and took pictures.  One by one, everyone left for big, family gatherings involving ham and the traditional Easter fare.

But by Sunday, all of our family gatherings had already taken place plus I'd planned a big Sunday night supper, so Easter lunch found the Millers at Subway......enjoying ham in one of its lower forms.  I can attest that there is no line, no waiting at the Subway after church on Easter.
 
  

Ok....just so you know, this post may not be quite as thought provoking as the last, but still...  I mean....I like to mix it up here on my little blog. 

So, a couple of days ago, something bit me.  Big deal, you say.  Well, normally it wouldn't be a big deal, but it has swelled and itched like crazy!!!  I have no earthly idea what is was, but all I know is that I have never, I repeat, never had anything itch like this.  Yesterday at work, I determined that it wasn't getting much better, so when I got home, I decided I better try to get a good look at it and see if I could tell if it was a bug bite, poison ivy, or something else. 

Getting a close look.....well, therein lies the problem.  You see....well, how can I say this in the most delicate way possible?  The bug or whatever has bitten me on my derrière.....or you know, back there where your leg and your derrière meet up.  I feel sure that is the most tactful way that a southern woman could describe the problem...using the French term and all.  I have always felt that words with accent marks are just a bit more fancy and proper than, say, words without accent marks.....even if the word refers to your backside.  I'm sure my mother has passed out and fallen backwards out of her chair, though, given that I have written about this on the world wide web.  She is the primmest and proper-est of all the southern magnolias.

Anyway, after a few attempts to get a look at the offending area in the mirror, I decided that I just couldn't get turned around enough to get a good view, not even with a mirror. I decided that I needed to get resourceful.  I took my iPhone and turned that thing on selfie mode and snapped 4 or 5 pictures of the mysterious bite and was then able to zoom in on it and see what it looked like.  There I was, in the bathroom, in front of a mirror, snapping pictures of my backside.  I felt like a really old, but more level headed version of Miley Cyrus.  All I could think was, "Please, Lord, don't let this be one of those rotting spider bites or anything that will require seeing doctors with big, bright lights".  I mean I would like a little more room in my Easter dress, but not by way of rotting flesh.  And here I am on the downhill slide of my Doctor Tour 2014 and I sure don't want to be adding any more stops to that list.  

After I examined the pictures, I was careful to promptly delete them as I so didn't want to accidently send one of those to Davis at work, causing him to wreck trying to rush home thinking I was getting fresh.  And certainly, I didn't want to inadvertently select the wrong picture on my camera roll while attempting to post a picture of Carson's baseball game and end up with my backside on Facebook with the caption, "So proud of you".  Anyway, I was almost certain it was a bug bite and not poison ivy, but I needed a second opinion to be sure.

About that time, Davis came in the door from work.  Ding, ding, ding, ding, ding......I think we have a winner.  "Umm, Davis, I need you to look at something for me", I greeted.   I got our brightest of flashlights out of the closet and explained the problem.  He studied it carefully and with all zero of his years in medical school, concluded that I do, indeed, have some type of nasty bug bite back there.  Davis was very professional.....I dare say a  Marcus Welby MD level of professionalism. 

So, anyway,......now we wait to see if rotting or gangrene sets in or if I lose feeling in it or if red streaks appear....or if I have to have anything amputated.   

Only time will tell.      

It’s so depressing to hear all the news coverage of shootings at military bases, bullying and stabbings at schools, bombings, murders, molestations, and every other unimaginable form of assault that human beings can wage against one another.  There’s always been evil and always will, but it seems that, in recent years, it’s become loud, obtrusive, and hard to ignore. The news programs interview experts, who discuss what can be done and their solutions usually involve more screenings, more laws, more money, and more programs, but I think the downturn in our society has been due to a combination of slow, gradual, and, often, unnoticed changes.    

We've had the most delightful weekend!  Yesterday, some of my kinfolk from my Daddy's side came up for a visit and we enjoyed the most wonderful day together!  His side....well, they're a fun people group, so when you combine them with good food, optimal weather, front porch swingin', and seeing my Daddy's face when I looked at my aunt, well, it all made for a perfect day.
Since they don't get up here much, their impending visit launched the type of cleaning spree that is set aside only for infrequent guests.  The infrequent guest requires a higher level of cleaning as they can be fooled into believing that you keep an immaculate house as their visits are widely spaced and planned well in advance.  You know when you have your "usual" company over, you just kind of hit the high spots, as, well... the cat is already out of the bag with them.  However, let visitors who aren't on your frequent flyer list schedule a visit and you'll find yourself using attachments on the vacuum cleaner that you never knew you had.....sucking dust bunnies out of plantation shutters and crouched over baseboards behind furniture so large that only the good Lord sees them.  This is the type cleaning that I found myself doing this week.  I think that it should be a self imposed requirement to schedule this type of special company, at least once a quarter, so to bring scenes like this to the light.
These images contain graphic content, but I'm just keeping it real, people.  I thought I caught a glimpse of something under the piece of furniture that houses Carson's television and Xbox and when I moved it back from the wall, this was what I found.  It was to my relief that I discovered the white box, not to be cigarettes as I thought at first glance, but, instead, only poker cards.  I would have to go with the vice of gambling over cigs at this point.  Also found were the easily explained bouncy balls and the more difficult to justify....congregation of Frosted Flakes.  I'm sure when this chest left Pier One, it could never have imagined anything like this.  This was the most disturbing scene that was unearthed in my cleaning process, but I feel that it serves to connect us with the common folk as I know it, often, appears that it's just glitz, glamour, and all that is fancy over here with us.

Anyway, moving onto today, we enjoyed a fun family afternoon at Mississippi State....besides, of course, the part about the Bulldogs getting whooped by the Rebels.  It was a long, arduous journey from the car to the field with it being Super Bulldog weekend and all and the fact that my purse housed Davis' large bottled water made it that much longer.  Let it be said that Davis never pays $3.00 for water.  Never.  Regardless of the loss, baseball games are always relaxing......with the possible exception of when the clapper of Blair's cowbell goes airborne, almost taking out a couple of Bulldog children seated a few rows below us.  A nice lady seated in front of us took our picture.  It was so kind of her considering she had Carson's seasonal allergies going on behind her and Blair pairing each of the baseball players' last names with her name to see which one sounded best.  I'm sure it was to her relief that we left a little early. 
That was about it, I guess.  Hope your weekend was as good as mine.








              
    

Well, I hope National Sibling Day didn't sneak up and find you without a gift for your closest of relatives.  All I know is that here it is after 10:00 pm and neither of my brothers have called to wish me Happy Sibling Day.  It's hard to believe.  You should always be extra nice to your brothers and sisters as you never know when you will need a body part and theirs are sure to be your closest match. 

I love this picture of my little brother's first night at home from the hospital.  The boy had a pair of lungs on him.  That's good, I suppose....I may need one of those one day, Lee.  Anyway, I don't think I liked the new living arrangement from the look on my face.  Little did I know on this night, that one day, in the not so distant future, the one on the left would hold me down, while the one in the middle would pummel me in the face with the blue, wooden handle of his corn popper.  What are siblings for, really, if not to create lifelong trust issues?       
Growing up between two boys, there wasn't much time to sit around and be prissy.  We also had mostly boys on our street, so unless you wanted to be a loner, you had to play what the boys were playing.  Every day, there was some type of ballgame going on in our yard.  It usually was whatever was in season.  We played whiffle ball, Country Jay, HORSE, two hand touch football, croquet, roller skated and skateboarded in the carport, and hit the tennis ball against the house.  I have to brag, too, that when captains starting picking teams in the neighborhood, I was always chosen pretty early on in the process.....I mean, for a little, skinny girl.   

We also fished in the pond behind our house, rode bicycles from morning to dusk, and my all time favorite.....placed pennies on the railroad track down the street, so that we could go back after the train had passed and collect our flattened coins.  Remember, this was the 70's when parents didn't mind if their kids played on the railroad tracks.  We developed something called, common sense, as a result.     

My mother still has a necklace that we all pitched in to buy her from the jewelry counter at TG&Y.  When I say jewelry counter, I mean it in the loosest way possible.  It was a lovely, golden chain or, at least, it was golden in 1978.  I'm not sure what color it is now, but it rests in my mother's jewelry box.  Anyway, its topaz colored plastic pendant bore the impression of a yellow wildflower in its center.  My older brother, Zane, was the main financer of our gifts...I don't know where he got all of his money.  I, the only girl, was always responsible for taking our stash of construction paper, white paste, and pinking shears and creating a lovely card....careful to pen a sentiment that expressed our gratitude, as a whole, to our mother.  Lee, well, he was the baby and you know how that goes.  He couldn't contribute much to our group gifts, but I guess when you're the baby, it doesn't matter....you're gonna be the favorite, regardless.

We were always given the chore of raking the yard and when we'd start fighting in the middle of it, we were all called into my daddy's office, where he'd turn us over his knee and give us a few whops on the derrière.  He operated on kind of the" if one goes down, they all go down" type of system.  Here we are on one of our yard raking days.  This is obviously a "before" picture with us smiling and all. 

Living with boys, I also figured out, early on, that the more nonchalant you could be, while they're coming at you with a lizard, snake, or dead animal, the less time the offending creature would spend in your face.  Boys are into screaming and crying and if you don't give it to them, they lose interest pretty fast. 

My little brother and I shared a common relief when our older brother left for college.  For the first time in our lives, Lee and I felt like we might actually get all we wanted to eat as the bottomless goat had left home.  For years, I'd accompanied my mother to the grocery store in order to push the second cart.  The boy could put away some groceries as he is the root of my eating fast to this day.  "If you don't hurry, Zane will get it", the little voice in my head still taunts.

Anyway, here's one last picture of our little family headed to church.  Zane was rocking that leisure suit, and Lee, the baby, taking his rightful place on the throne of Daddy's arms.  Me and my Pageboy haircut, if you'll notice, are the only ones with an offering envelope.  Interesting.  I'm sure all the boxes were checked off on it as having read my Bible daily, studied my lesson, and worship attendance. 
I guess growing up with boys taught me a lot.  I'm quite adept at hitting pop flies to Carson.  I'm not afraid to bait a hook with a worm.  I can sharpen a knife with a wet rock.  I can catch crickets if the occasion ever calls for it.  I can put a chain back on a bike.  I'm good with tools and assembly.  I know the rules of football and all the NFL teams and their colors. Quite possibly the most advantageous result....my nose is forever numb to the stench of sweat.   

I hope they learned a thing or two from me, too.

Happy Sibling Day, boys. 

   

Ok.... first, I have to share this picture taken by my friend, Jean, while she was on a shopping trip in North Carolina.  Jean has located the retirement facility, where all of our 1970's playground equipment is resting comfortably, living out their final days.  We should all make plans to meet there next Tuesday morning after "Captain Kangaroo" goes off and relive recess of 1975, while testing the weight limits of these rusty, childhood relics.  Don't forget to wear your red Keds and bring your metal Holly Hobbie lunchbox and Thermos as lunch will not be provided.  We should be home by the time "ZOOM" comes on at 5:00.  No permission slip needed as, I'm sure, our parents are still not overly concerned with our safety.   

Ok, next order of business.....I need to defend myself on the whole headlight issue.  I realize that my brain has only functioned at about 30% since I turned, oh I'd say, 42 or so.....and, sometimes, I do things that cause me to pause and say to myself, "Good gosh, woman, you are on the verge of needing round the clock care", but driving without turning on my headlights was a first for me.  Well, I was so relieved at dinner tonight when Davis says, "Oh, about your blog today....I think I may have switched your lights to "off" when I took your car in to be serviced yesterday."  Well, there you have it, people.  Did I not say that a leprechaun must have been responsible for that?  The leprechaun's name is Davis.  He would've felt horrible had the incident ended in a shootout or, even worse,......a fine, but all's well that ends well.  I'd like to thank him for coming forward and not leaving me out there, all alone, in the land of self-doubt.       

Also, today was my dentist appointment as I forge ahead in my quest to be checked from top to bottom.  We can go ahead and check that one off of our list.  So glad to have that over with for a while.  Is there anything more torturous than having your teeth cleaned?  They stick that long ice pick type instrument in between your teeth and they scrape and scrape and scrape.  The metal against teeth sound makes its counterpart, the fingernails on chalkboard sound, seem like a melodious lullaby.  Today was an exception, but, usually, I get the chatty dental hygienists, who want to have a conversation with you, while she's got four fingers, an ice pick, a little mirror, and a suction hose all up in your mouth.  They'll usually ask questions like, "How old are your kids now?" or "How did the weather look when you came in?"  You just try to answer the best you can with your tongue pinned down and all , "Ahaaaa eeeehhhh haahheeeaa  aaheehaa".  I have to say that I appreciated today's hygienist's understanding that you cannot have a conversation with someone, while your fist is in their mouth. 

I have other reasons for not enjoying the dentist's office, not the least of which, are my hypersensitive gag reflex and overactive salivary gland.  Those things that they stick in there to take the x-rays......they feel like 2x4s to a gagger and that little, tiny suction hose they use needs to be the size of a garden hose to keep up with my salivary gland.  I'm a squirter.  So embarrassing. 

I guess that's all that happened around these parts today.

Hope your day was good. 

Well, I found myself in a bit of trouble with the law tonight on my way home from the First Baptist Church Easter choir practice.  Yeah, you heard me.   I may be an alto in the church choir, but I can still get disorderly when the mood strikes. 

After the extra Monday night choir rehearsal that we had to prepare for our upcoming spring/Easter program, I decided it was still early enough to head to Lowe’s to pick up a couple of pots of flowers to plant tomorrow.  When I got several blocks from the church, I noticed a police car pull up right behind me and turn on his lights and siren…….and, wait a minute, another police car pulled up behind him…..and, wait a minute, another police car pulled up behind him….all with their sirens and blinding blue lights “ just a-goin’”.   I immediately pulled over as I was certain that they were attempting to get around me in a race to catch some ruthless thug.  However, when I pulled over, they did, too.  Hmmm.  I was glad that I quickly got over as I surely did not want to add “Evading Police” to whatever other offense I’d committed that was warranting my being chased down by one-third of our local police force.

Anyway, as I sat there eager to hear my charges, the police car directly behind me turns on his big, bright spotlight and shines it into my car.  For what seemed like forever, I waited…..all the while trying to figure out what I could have done.  If I’ve learned one thing from watching reruns of COPS, it’s that when you have three police cars behind you with a spotlight shining in your car, you don’t want to make any sudden movements.  I was careful not to reach for the glove box, my purse, or the console as I didn’t want to set off any type of gunfire and land myself on both the front page AND the obit page of the Tuesday morning paper...nor was I interested in the local news playing clips of my car windows all shot out with close ups of my bullet riddled Easter music covered in glass.

I suppose you could say that tonight's post is a commercial of sorts.  If you haven’t seen the movie, “Son of God”, I highly recommend it as a way to prepare yourself for Easter.  It's no longer playing here in our town, but I know it's still in many theaters.  A couple of weeks ago, we saw it as a family and, while I know there have been many movies done over the years about Jesus’ life, I do think that they can serve the purpose of shaking us and waking us to things that we, often, let drift from our consciousness.

We can’t really imagine, here in 2014 America, what Jesus' life was like or the brutality of the time in which He lived.  Heck, we can hardly wrap our brain around a world without granite countertops, high speed internet, and Starbucks.  Movies about His life can be hard to watch, but I think it’s good for us to be reminded of the atrocities that He endured for us.  When the beating and crucifixion came on the screen, we all shifted, uncomfortably, in our seats and some of us covered our ears and eyes.  I’m guilty of getting so wrapped up in ME and MY little world and MY busy schedule, MY group of friends, and things that affect MY family that, sometimes, I feel a million miles and a million years detached from the cross.