It was a hot and steamy July day. I’d invited my mother to spend the afternoon with me. She didn’t know what we were doing, but I had lunch and a movie in mind. I wanted to take her to see Elvis. Besides hearing his songs played, I don’t remember much about Elvis except when they interrupted my afternoon shows to tell us he was dead. I was 9 and was probably watching Gilligan’s Island or Happy Days or something. My mother was of that age though- the generation that had a front row seat to his rise to fame. She remembered when he was first on The Ed Sullivan Show. She’s always thought Elvis was handsome and had a voice that made her swoon. It could be what she saw in my Daddy with his thick, black hair pushed back. Who knows. I guess you could say she was definitely a fan. Not the kind that would’ve had Elvis salt and pepper shakers on the table, or kept a candle burning near a framed velvet portrait, or thought she’d spotted his face browned into her morning toast, but just the regular kind of fan that enjoyed his music and thought he was easy on the eyes. 

We enjoyed a nice lunch. Got the vegetable plate to offset the meat overload of Independence Day. We stopped in a few shops near the restaurant and then headed to the movie. It was a Tuesday afternoon. The day after a holiday. I was sure we’d be among very few there. We rounded the corner to the theater and found out just how wrong I was. There were women. Older women. Hordes of them. As far as the eye could see. It was a virtual sea of post-menopausals. Grasping their printed tickets. Clutching their purses. Waiting in line for popcorn and Raisinets. Running in and out of the restroom before they went to take their seats. Mama and I had already taken our bathroom break before we even got there as she’d reminded me that it was going to be a long movie and we’d just had all of that tea with lunch and the theater restroom might not be so clean. Once we got there, I offered to buy popcorn and drinks, but she pointed out that it would just make us have to visit the ladies’ room again. It was like I had wandered up in the middle of the filming of an “At Progressive, we can’t keep you from becoming your parents” commercial. 

We made our way to the theater and found our assigned seats. The theater was quite full and I only saw two men in there. No, this was a movie for the ladies. And here they came. Coming in groups- some with canes and walkers- all with big purses. They were using their phone lights to maneuver the dark aisles. Getting situated. Getting their feet elevated to the right height and their head reclined without spilling the overpriced popcorn. You could tell they’d been waiting for this a long time. Despite the reminders on the big screen, there were the errant flip phone rings during the show. It obviously took a while to dig them out of those big purses and then to find the right button to silence them. There was the occasional whooping out loud when Elvis would be looking especially handsome. There was a lot of “whispering” in normal speaking voices. And the older lady next to me thought she’d join him in singing one of his songs at the end. Everyone knows how much fellow moviegoers love that. 

The movie was over and everyone sat there a minute. Then it happened. The audience started clapping. I really felt the Progressive parent commercial coming alive then and wanted to step in for Dr. Rick and say, “No one who made the movie is here.” We exited weaved our way back through the lobby. The ladies were all heading back to the restroom. Trying to find their groups. Throwing away their popcorn tubs. We passed one poor woman who was off by herself with tears in her eyes. She was needing a minute. 

It was a really good movie. Even being outside the Elvis generation, I really enjoyed it. It was done very well. He wasn’t from my decade, but his same story has been replayed plenty of times in musical icons from my day. People with extraordinary talent who achieved crazed fame and it not ending well. I don’t think the human brain can process or manage the pressure that comes with it. Every generation has their big stars. Their heartthrobs. Never to be fully understood by the next generation. But, every generation will eventually become their parents. Just like the commercial says. Symptoms may appear gradually over a period of many years before the full blown transformation takes place. My son-in-law calls me Joni Sr. -insinuating he’s married to the junior. Sometimes, I hear myself say something or catch a glimpse of an expression on my face and I can just feel my mother spilling out of my pores. Progressive can’t help us, so may we be parents worth transforming into and may we be grateful for those parents we’re becoming. 

Happy Thursday! 

JONI 

Have mercy! It’s hot as blue blazes. Hotter than a $2 pistol. Hot as molten lead. Hot as the hinges of Hell. Hot as the devil’s kitchen. Hot as all get-out. Hotter than fish grease. It’s a steam bath out there. A real scorcher. Hell’s waiting room. You could fry an egg on the sidewalk. I’m sweating like a pig. Sweatin’ buckets. Like a turkey at Christmas. Like a sinner in church. Burnin’ slam up. However they say it in your neck of the woods- it’s miserably hot. 

It got to 100 today in central Mississippi with 66% humidity. I can tell a change in my mood when it’s like this. I become grumpy. Impatient. Pessimistic. Prone to kick inanimate objects that get in my way. But, I know that some of you actually like to feel like you’re in a rotisserie oven. That’s the thing with seasons- everybody gets a turn at having things their way. Some people’s turns are longer than others- cough, cough- but life isn’t always fair. So, to all the summer people, I hope you’re enjoying this cremation setting on which the thermostat is currently set. This is what we heard y’all yearning for all winter long and here it is. You do you!

I really don’t know if it’s the heat or the prolonged period of inconvenience and stress or all the recent moving or a combination of them all, but I’m just bone tired. Dog tired. I’ve literally had to fight to stay awake this entire week. I’ve decided that I just can’t hold out like I once did. I think I remember when I first heard my mother say that, years ago, and here I go. I guess I’ve reached that age where you say that because you feel it and you know it’s something new. At some point, our kids became us- adventurous, free, energetic, and nimble and they bump us up to our parents’ slot- predictable, cautious, sore, and tired. I believe the transfer has taken place. 

We got Carson all moved into his 425 sq ft studio apartment last week. We were told he was one of three Carsons to move into the building that day. While I was a little wary of downtown living, his building is located between a fire station, a police station, and a convent. His grandmother was pleased to hear this. Should he have a problem with fire, crime, or temptation, he is surrounded by those who can help. He started his job on Monday, his 22nd birthday. He’s 4 days in and absolutely loves it. Probably doesn’t hurt that he spent day two playing golf. It does a Mama’s heart good to know that her son has found a job that’s a good fit for him….and it doesn’t hurt her feelings that it removes his name from the payroll either. 

It’s an exciting moment when you really get out on your own for the first time. This move has felt different than the others. There was college, but his address was still our address and our home was still his home base. This move changes all of that and that’s ok. This is the natural progression of life and I’ve worked my way to the point where I’m good with that. We packed up some things he had from college. We bought some new things to help him get started. We gave him some used things we had. With it all, he pieced together what he’d need to start out on his own. God has been so good. Now we just pray, when the time is right, he’ll meet a sweet Christian girl who likes to cook and will bring him home to see us every month or two. If you know any girls like that, send them over. 

Some of you have asked if I’d post pictures of what we’ve done to our house. The guys came and finished the last few things today. We’re enjoying having life back to normal around here. Here are a couple of pics of some of the work we did. We also revamped bathrooms and bedrooms. 

Hello, friends. If I tried to explain to you the level of chaos in which we’ve been living since we last spoke, I couldn’t do it justice. I won’t even attempt it. Apparently, the further into a renovation you get, the more out of control your life becomes. I guess the good thing is the paint fumes seem to dull your senses to it all. If you ever find yourself debating if you should renovate your house or buy another one, I suggest you buy every time. I know you’re as tired of hearing me tell you how my life has been hijacked by this project as I am tired of telling it. The good news is that, within a week, our home will be/should be completely finished. As of this past weekend, our things are all moved back in and we just have to get stuff put back into place. There’s a small punch list we have to work on before we can completely reclaim our privacy and put an end to the steady stream of workers with whom we’ve been sharing our home. While I’ll miss seeing them at our doorstep at 7:30 a.m. each morning, I’ll get over it quickly. My wit and my rope had both reached their ends, so this conclusion couldn’t have come at a better time. 

Meanwhile, Carson has accepted a job in Mobile, Alabama and so, while we were busy moving back into our house this weekend, he drove in from Starkville with his truck loaded down with all of his crapola from college and dumped it off on his way to find a place to live in Mobile. So. Much. Stuff. You can imagine I was thrilled when he found an apartment he can move into Wednesday, so we’ll move him south in a couple of days. This week has been devoted to getting everything sorted and ready for that. Did I mention Mobile is possibly the hottest and most humid place on the planet? Heat exhaustion always makes for the best moving days. I counted and, between our two kids, this will be the 11th time we’ve moved a child. I don’t recall a single one of those that didn’t take place in the broiling heat. Y’all know I don’t do this heat thing well and this summer has gotten off to a serious start down here. It’s not playing around and I detest it with all my heart. 

All through this, Davis has been bringing home buckets of vegetables from his garden. He decided this would be a good year for a garden expansion. Gardens are rude in that they rarely ask what your schedule looks like or what’s convenient for you. No, they just have a knack for producing at the worst possible times. This year, it certainly did not disappoint. On Friday, we had a plumber, two tile guys, a painter, and our contractor- all in the house. Carson drives up and starts unloading his mess. Davis drives up with 5-gallon buckets of green beans, squash, and blueberries. 

My head began to throb and I was starting to feel stressed and I had to slap myself. These are all good things. No, they’re all wonderful things. Our home has a facelift. Carson found a good job quickly. We have plenty of food to eat. My goodness. God is good. Just breathe and say thank you, Joni. 

When I come back, I shall never mention the word, renovation, on here again. We’ll pretend like this whole thing never happened and go back to life as it was before we had this interruption. This long, drawn out, dusty, fume-filled, seemingly endless interruption. Remember, kids- Do. Not. Ever. Renovate. Your. House. Friends don’t let friends renovate. 

I’ll be back next week and we’ll talk about something. I don’t know what yet. Anything but the R word. 

I’ve been missing this! 

JONI 

Although it may appear as such, I have not abandoned the Motherhood ship. No, I’m currently lying in bed and pecking out this message on my phone because I can’t find my keyboard anywhere. I feel like I’m sending an SOS by Morse code. -…-./Send help. ..-…-/ We are not ok. 

Well, there’s been a lot going on around here. I’ll start with a Ruby story. My extended family had a graduation party for two of our family members, this past weekend. We make a big deal over the kids when they graduate from high school. It’s a big step toward independence- not to mention a promotion from the kiddie table- so we like to give them a time to be celebrated. We were going to have a big cookout and I was bringing the baked beans. Well, since it was such a big crowd, I decided to order them from a local bbq place. I picked them up and they had them ready for me in a large tub. I got home and stirred in about 3/4 of a large store-bought can of beans to stretch them a little more for our big crowd and I put the empty tub and partially empty jumbo can in the trash. Well, at the current time, our kitchen trash cans are displaced in the laundry room as our cabinet doors aren’t put back on yet, which would leave Ruby with unlimited access to the garbage and that would be less than ideal for a dog who eats all things. 

So, when it was time to go, we told Ruby goodbye and headed to the party with the hot beans. Five hours later, we returned and opened the door to find that she’d thrown a party of her own. I’m not sure if she had other dogs over or if it was just her, but there were cans, wrappers, old coffee grounds and dirty paper plates strewn around the place. Thankfully, we currently have no floor covering. She’d opened the laundry room door. Knocked over the trash can. Gotten the bean tub and the bean can out. Taken them into the family room to her bed and eaten them in front of the tv. Kind of a dog’s version of popcorn and a movie. All the beans I’d left in the bottom of the big can were gone and both vessels were licked clean. She saw me coming and stuck her whole head back in the can to ensure she’d gotten them all before I shut the party down completely. A last call of sorts. Later that night, she was lying in her bed with the blanket over her. I heard a horrible noise and saw the blanket balloon out. Party now. Pay for it later. 

And amidst all of our renovation chaos, we started having septic system issues. Around here, when you’re a city dweller, you’re on the city’s sewage system, but when you’re living outside the city limits, you’ve got this septic system thing. Every few years, we have to have ours cleaned out as tree roots grow down and stop things up. So, the septic guy comes in the big pump truck and takes care of our problem and closes the tank, but Davis tells him not to put the dirt back in the hole as he wants to pour some pool salt in it to kill the roots before he fills it in again. The septic guy rubs his chin and agrees that it’s a good idea. That was 36 hours ago. Eager as I am to get it all put back together out there, I’ve asked Davis, a couple of times, when he plans to do that. He assures me soon, but, meanwhile, I’m looking at this hole that’s about 6 feet long and 4 feet deep from my bedroom window. I’m starting to wonder if Davis has other plans for that hole. If he starts fashioning some sort of box out of the reno scrap pile, I’ll start to worry. 

As far as the renovations, well, we’re starting to finally see some of the actual finishes in a couple of places, but it’s been a long time coming. I just love all those home renovation shows like Flip or Flop, Hometown, and Fixer Upper, but they do give you unrealistic ideas about how these things work. You know the shows where they buy a hideous house that you can almost smell through the TV screen? They’ll fill a dumpster with rotten wood, stained mattresses, and filthy toilets and, only two weeks later, it’s a beautiful designer home. Or there are those shows like Love It or List It. They go in people’s homes and fix them up to meet their needs to convince them that their house can still work for them and not to sell. Most of those people don’t really need a new home- they just need a vacuum cleaner, some garbage bags, and a commitment to fold the laundry every once in a while.

Especially now, I can appreciate the fictitious nature of these shows, where the sub-contractors start pulling in the driveway on day one and they’re working inside and outside- so many of them that they’re bumping into each other. They show them arriving early in the morning and working into the night to get the job done. When one worker is finished, the next guy is right there ready to start his part. No waiting. No delays. Just 1, 2, 3, done. That’s how it works on TV. 

But, in real life renovations, the tile guy can’t come until the plumber comes. The plumber is working on another house, but might be able to squeeze you in before he starts another big job at the first of the month. If he can’t get to you before that job, it will be another 5 days or so after that before he can come. The plumber finally comes a week later than his original worst case scenario date. Tile guy started another job and has to finish before he can get to you. Electrician guy thinks he can come in 2 weeks. After 2 weeks, no electrician. Says it will be another week. Finally, tile guy comes and works a couple of afternoons. He doesn’t finish and says he will come back after counter top guy and sheetrock guy come. Counter top guy can’t come until the painter comes. Electrician comes but doesn’t get finished. Says he will be back after painter comes back for the final time. Painter comes and works until lunch. Will be back after sheetrock guy. Counter top guy can come at the end of the week. Sheetrock guy will be a couple of weeks. No, can’t come then. Not done with his other job. He’ll give you a call when he’s done. Finally, sheetrock guy comes, so painter is put on alert. Painter has no idea when he can come back because he’s gotten really busy. Floor guy can’t come until painter finishes and painter can’t come until sheetrock guy finishes. Electrician can’t come back until sheetrock and painter are finished. Sheetrock guy finally comes. Wait and wait for painter. Painter will be there in 2 weeks. No, make that 3 weeks. Not sure when the painter will be there. Finally, painter comes back. Floor guy is called. Electrician is called. Floor guy has started another job. May need to call another floor guy. Electrician will be there by the end of the week. No, the first of next week. No, it will be toward the middle of the week. Electrician will get there when he gets there. 

So, I kind of feel like we’re living in a really low budget southern movie over here. A hound dog eating beans in front of the TV set. Gurgling toilets when the washing machine drains. An open grave in the backyard. Septic pumper truck in the driveway. Old sinks, light fixtures and countertops tossed out the back door. We’re just one car on cinder blocks away from a Cousin Eddie situation over here. 

On a happy note, Carson graduates on May 12. Did you just hear angels singing or just me? I thought we might get to celebrate in a finished house, but that’s not going to happen unless we get selected for one of those shows or Chip and Joanna drive up unexpectedly. Either way, it will be a happy day. We’ll celebrate somewhere! 

It’s nice to catch up with y’all! Have a great week! 

JONI 

I’ve been suffering from fatigue. Fatigue, tiredness, exhaustion, lethargy- whatever word you choose to call it. Now, while my mother is frantically looking for her phone to call me, let me pause and clarify. I don’t really mean the physical kind that would warrant a doctor visit, although I have always had a natural affinity to daytime napping. No, there are a lot of different ways we can feel fatigued or tired. There’s that kind you have after a big meal- like on Thanksgiving day around 1:00 p.m. after you’ve had a plate full of starches and the dessert sampler. There’s the kind that you get when the preacher is making his 7th point and the sunlight is beaming through the stained glass window and warming your pew. There’s the tired you feel after a really hard day of work when you fall asleep so fast that you do that weird jerking awake thing. There’s the kind you have after a big event is over- a good one or a bad one- when the surge of adrenaline finally wears off and you just run out of steam. Then, there’s the kind of fatigue you feel after expending mental and emotional energy continually for an extended time and I think that’s where my tiredness is rooted. 

Let’s face it, y’all- we’ve all had a few rough years. I know we’ve talked about this before, but it bears repeating. We had an election year in 2019 and you know about the constant divisive noise that brought. Everyone was firmly planted on their sides and we were all completely spent by the year’s end. Just coming out of that, 2020 brought Covid and we fought over how that should be handled and divided ourselves into teams based on the health choices we made. For two years, we heard about very little that wasn’t related to the virus and what we should be doing about it. We found ourselves with little patience or empathy for those whose Covid fear level was different from our own. More fearful and they were overreacting, brainwashed sheep. Less fearful- they were ignorant with no care for their fellow man. And all along, through the election, Covid, and mounting social issues, new lines were being drawn around what we could say and what we couldn’t. Sometimes, undeniable truths were labeled as misinformation. There were new rules to follow if you wanted to enjoy the privileges of social media. Questioning or stating facts regarding some issues became grounds for being cancelled. Disagreeing somehow became equivalent to hating. Crime and violence skyrocketed and our moral fiber seemed to disintegrate. Now, the world has recently fallen further into chaos. And those are just a few of the excruciating mental exercises we endured together as a country. That doesn’t even include the personal experiences that we encountered in our individual lives during the same time all of that was happening. It seems like there’s been, at least, a decade’s worth of happenings in three years’ time. 

I’ve noticed a shift in us since the onset of all of that- especially in my age group and younger. I’ve noticed a shift in myself. I can’t quite define it, but I’ve seen changes and they weren’t all for the good. For the last little while, I’ve let myself slide in some ways. I won’t be specific, because I’m not sure I can really put my finger on it. I just know that there are little things that I once did that I’m not really doing right now. There are places in my life where I’ve allowed myself to take a break. There are things that I have reordered on my priority list and others that have kind of fallen off completely. There have been times I’ve been more content to observe than to be in the game. Some of the shifts may have been good, but some were not. I’ve just felt mentally numb from this seemingly infinite period of crises and debates and division and moral decline that we’ve all been witnessing for the last few years. Unless you were living in a cave, there was nowhere to go to escape it or tune it out and, eventually, those things catch up with us. 

Not only has there been the mental fatigue, but I think the pandemic gave us all a valid excuse to take it easy for a while. We were home more than usual with so many of our normal activities cancelled. In a way, I think the unusual time of rest was kind of a welcomed thing as we were in the midst of living faster and more frantically than any other generation before us when we were suddenly forced to slam on the brakes. Maybe we kind of liked the way that gentler pace felt. Covid became a legitimate reason to coast along and we had more time at our disposal to do with as we pleased. It was something we hadn’t had in a really long time. We had almost two years for new habits to form and for others to break and they did. Some were good. Some were not. 

It’s the Easter season now- the time we, Christians, celebrate the resurrection and new life. The spring weather is here in the South and nature is coming alive again. The brown, crunchy grass is green and growing again. The bare trees have new leaves budding on their branches. The azaleas are blooming in pink and white. The birds are singing in the day and the frogs in the night. Something about the awakening of new life in nature has inspired a sort of an awakening in me. I’d tried a reset at the turn of the new year, but it never really got off the ground. But, I’ve rested long enough and taken my leave in some places, but I’m not content to stay there. Jesus modeled physical and spiritual rest for us and, if He needed it, how much more do we? But, it’s a place for us to visit momentarily- not to reside in permanently. 

We’ve got to know when it’s time to get back out there. To throw off our complacency and come off the bench. Maybe it’s getting back to church in person. Back to the gym. Back to a ministry. Back to visiting. Back to a mission field. Back to a Bible study group. Back to friends. Back to a social life. Back to volunteering. Back to mentoring. Whatever it is for you. It’s time for my generation and younger to step up and do our part. It’s been a rough time for all of us, but we have work to do. If the world has ever needed Christians to get up and get busy, it’s now. And if Christians have ever needed the support of other Christians, it’s now. When we need it, we should rest, but not retire. I’m sure there’s something all of us could be doing that we’re not and if there’s somewhere we haven’t fully re-engaged, maybe it’s time. 

Have a happy day, friends! 

JONI