Motherhood and Muffin Tops

Thursday, March 11, 2021

A New Season

10:03 PM

Davis and I worked in the yard last Saturday. The weather has been just beautiful, so we were trying to get things in better shape out there after the wear of the long winter. The birds were singing some background music, while I refilled their feeder. The wind was blowing the wind chimes as accompaniment. Some of the plants were budding and getting ready to put on their show. We pulled some weeds that were already coming up and trimmed some wild hairs off the bushes. The grass was greening and Davis ran the lawn mower over it to make it look neater. You could just tell that things were on the verge of a new start.

I’m not one of those people who coddles her plants through the winter. I don’t bring them into the garage or carefully cover them up at night. No, I let my ferns cross the rainbow bridge-or whatever their bridge is called- right after Halloween when they start looking tired and jaundice. The flowers I plant on the back porch are always begging to be euthanized by the time the broiling days of August roll around and so I start withholding all life extending measures around then. I always figure I’ll just get new plants the next year and I thank the old ones for their service.

We were out back cleaning the patio chairs when I noticed a little purple flower blooming on the only plant that had miraculously survived the winter. Mind you, I hadn’t watered anything out there since last August, so the only moisture it had gotten was from the Good Lord. All the other plants around it had long since died and the last time I remember noticing, it looked like that one had dried up, too, so I was surprised to see the pretty little flower poking its head out. We had some really cold nights this winter- for Mississippi, at least. It had been left out there even in the ice- alone and unnoticed by anyone for months, but there it was waking up and coming back to life.

I’ve had an especially great week visiting with friends. I had dinner with a group of girls on Monday night. We go all the way back to junior high school. In case you’re wondering- that’s a really long time in our case. We try to get together every couple of months or so to visit but, like everything else, that pattern had been interrupted. We met at the restaurant which seemed to be busy- much more than I’d seen it since all the Covid stuff hit. There was a buzz of life in the air. Several people came in that we all knew and we spoke with them. I got the warmest feeling with familiar faces surrounding me and passing by our table. It felt like something so lovely that had been missing was coming back to us. It’s been a long time since I’ve laughed that hard. Maybe it was because we were so hungry to do something normal. Maybe we were just tickled to see each other. Whatever it was, we laughed like we were still those junior high school girls and I came home feeling refreshed and recharged.

Yesterday, I spent the afternoon with a group of friends as a send off for one of us who’s relocating to another town. We went to the nearby town of Laurel where the HGTV show, Hometown, is filmed and spent the day eating and shopping. For a Wednesday, the little town was bustling. There seemed to be a sense of normalcy blowing around in the spring wind. Restaurants were crowded. Shops were busy. The weather was perfect. Like the blooming trees and singing birds, it just felt like I could see everything good coming back to life after such a long year. We did a lot of catching up as we’d missed so much over the last months. We’ve been through a lot together. We filled our nests together and then watched them empty out again. Time moves on and seasons change and we were just enjoying each other’s company, while wishing our friend all God’s best as she moves along to another place for another season. We left our time feeling lighter and brighter just by having been together.

The one thing that stuck in my mind about my two visits this week was what they had in common. At the end of each one, everyone commented along the same lines. “I really needed this” or “This did me so much good.”

Life can be a hard thing, you know. It’s been especially hard for everyone over the last year. We’ve been in a cold and dreary season. One like no other, for sure. We may have felt like my spunky little plant out on the back porch. Like we were forgotten and left out in the cold- feeling alone to deal with so many adverse conditions of a long season. But, now we can feel hope blowing in with a new season coming and we’re so ready to come together again and bloom. Like my neglected plant, the Good Lord sustained us through it all and now we’re giddy that the sweetness of life is budding again. There’s nothing in the virtual world that can warm the soul like sitting across the table from a friend. Nothing that technology can offer can lift the spirit like looking into the eyes of people you love. There’s no form of social media that can replicate the healing power of group laughter- the kind that comes from deep down.

We need each other. If the last year has taught us anything, it’s that. I hope just as soon as it’s possible that you can have some girl time with your friends. It does a body good.

“Sweet friendships refresh the soul and awaken our hearts with joy.” Proverbs 27:9

Happy Weekend!

JONI

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Thursday, February 25, 2021

A Collection of Little Moments

6:55 PM

Davis and I had our wedding anniversary on Monday. Our 29th to be exact. I was 24 and he was 31 when we married and we didn’t know it, but we were so young. Some of us younger than others, you understand. I was thinner and his hair was thicker and neither of us had a wrinkle anywhere. Here we were in the back of the limo with birdseed still caught in our hair- heading off into life together.

Both of our kids were here for part of last weekend. Blair and John Samuel had a party to attend and Carson came in to visit them on his way (or out of his way) to a wedding. I’m just glad they all want to see each other when they can. We had a good time visiting and the men watched a lot of baseball games. We took the dogs to walk at the lake. The weather here went from an icy 11 to a cloudless 73 in one week, so the sun and blue skies were calling us outside. We went to eat at one of our favorite places for one meal and I cooked a big meal, the next day. We ate almost a whole coconut cake in 24 hours, which is why Davis and I decided we’d wait until this coming weekend to celebrate our anniversary as neither of us could even think about another rich meal by the time they all left.

After we’d all gotten home from eating out, someone mentioned something funny that Blair used to say when she was little, which led to me searching for it in our home movie DVD collection. I knew I had the saying in question on tape so we started looking for it through hours of home movies. There were some tears shed, I confess. It’s one thing to look at photographs, but when you hear the sounds of things your heart loved that are no more- oh, my goodness. Hearing my Daddy call me “Punkin.” Listening to Grandmother’s belly laugh. Seeing my mother-in-law play with our kids. Watching Blair curled up in Davis’ lap. Hearing Carson’s little baby voice talk gibberish behind a pacifier. And seeing Davis and me so young and so busy building our life together.

I was reminded that’s where most of married life happens. In years of every day moments. Rocking babies. Weekend getaways. Cleaning the kitchen. Trips to the beach. Science fair projects. Date nights. Kids in the bathtub. Christmas at Grandma’s house. Working late. Family weddings. Love isn’t usually like a Hallmark movie with candles and roses and snow starting to fall at the most perfectly timed instant. For us, it’s been the quilting of the little moments that may have seemed insignificant or routine as they were happening, but when we look back, they were all pieces of the beautiful life we’ve stitched together with God’s grace. The love, the loss, the mundane, the thrilling, the joyous, the heartbreaking, the beginnings, the ends, and everything in between. Every piece is part of our story.

On a lighter note- since we decided to postpone the observance of our big day like a bank holiday, we were just business as usual on our actual anniversary except for cooking a nice steak. That night, I walked through the family room to get a couple of Tums for my unusually persistent case of acid reflux and there Davis was on the couch wearing no pants. Before your imagination makes the situation more exciting that it was, on his way to the shower, he remembered that he needed to soak his plantar fasciitis foot in ice water first. I thought- well, here we are getting older. I’ve got a burning deep down in my chest and he’s stripped down to his underwear on the couch and none of it has one thing to do with us celebrating our anniversary. No, it’s just the years adding up on us, but so grateful for all the precious days we’ve had along the way.

Thank you, most gracious God.

Y’all have a great weekend!

JONI

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Thursday, February 18, 2021

Lights Out

9:09 PM

So, there’s been a little winter weather to hit the Deep South. We, southerners, like to think of ourselves as a hardy people. A resourceful group who can manage just about anything. We can deal with ornery water moccasins and swarms of mosquitos that could be mistaken for hummingbirds. We are quite proficient in coping with hurricanes with 150 mph winds. We can hunt, garden, skin deer, and put up vegetables. We are built to survive 90% humidity with a heat index of 105. (well, most of us are) We know a little something about what to do when tornadoes are coming. We can cook up some good eatin’ and catch a mess of catfish and help your mama with a flat tire on the side of the road, but when God was putting us together, He just didn’t see the point of equipping us with the ability to deal with ice. Maybe because He knew we wouldn’t get much use out of it. Whatever it is, it’s just not our thing and that’s ok. Nobody can be good at everything.

We’d been seeing this foreboding forecast several days out, but we, southerners, don’t tend to get too worked up about these winter weather forecasts because they usually end up being a big nothing. Southern school children have spent far too many “snow days” at home playing in the brown grass. No, we wait until a day or two before the anticipated event to make preparations. At that point, if they’re still insistent that it’s going to be snowy or icy, then we reckon we should listen. This is the point when everyone in town panics and goes to the grocery store at the very same time to buy bread, milk, water, peanut butter, ham, cheese, hot dogs, batteries, and Little Debbie’s. I, myself, made a pot of soup, some pimento cheese, and sloppy joe meat because I prefer to eat a tad higher on the hog in weather emergencies and, really, we’re just fancy people like that. We planned to use the grill and propane cooker to heat things up if needed.

Well, my little Mama had a big limb knock a live power line down onto the top of her house after the first signs of icing. Thank the good Lord for her precious neighbors. My brother went and rescued her and brought her here, where we wanted her in the first place. I’d begged her to come stay here in anticipation of the bad weather, but she wouldn’t comply- insisting she’d be just fine. I know they have books on how to deal with disobedient children, but I wonder if there are any that speak on disobedient parents because I’m going to need one or two of those.

And about the time the three of us were eating our nice dinner here, our power went out and stayed out about 20 hours including the 11 degree night, which might as well have been -30. Once it gets below 32, southerners lose their ability to discern degrees of cold. All I know is that when it’s 11 degrees and the heat is out, the bed is the only place to find any warmth or solace. Although- it was a toss up whether Davis and I missed the heat or our sleep machine more. We don’t do well with sleeping in silence. At one point, Ruby looked over at us like she was annoyed- wondering which one had forgotten to pay the power bill.

We got power back in time for a hot lunch, the next day, and avoided the second wave of power outages when round two of bad weather came through last night, so we’re awfully grateful for that. There are still a lot of people without power after our bizarre thunder snow/freezing rain/sleet/rain with thunder weather event. Our pine trees don’t hold up well in the ice and they just can’t resist falling on a power line any chance they get. There are so many power trucks from all over the country working to help get us back to normal. I don’t know what they’re paying them down there at the power company, but people who climb up a pole in a windy 11 degrees to tinker with electricity should be well-compensated. Right now, there is no one more welcomed or appreciated around here than them.

We need to pray for the Texans, who really seem to be having a terrible time. I’m sure there are other places, too. We may not know how to drive in snow or ice in the South and we may find ourselves ill-prepared for the havoc it brings. Sure, we wait until the last minute to gather our supplies. Yeah, we slip and slide and look like we don’t know what we’re doing, but there’s one thing we do better than anything- we’re awfully good at helping our fellow man. So many people helping each other by doing whatever they can do during all of this. Cutting up trees, pulling cars out of ditches, inviting cold neighbors to sleep by a fireplace, taking food to stranded truckers on the interstate, checking on the elderly. We may not do cold very well and we’re sure not pretty trying, but we can love our neighbors with the best of them and we’re just beautiful when we’re doing that.

Photo of our neighborhood lake taken by my sweet neighbor, Jennifer

Everybody stay safe and warm!

Spring is coming!

JONI

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Thursday, February 11, 2021

Post #462

9:06 PM

I was cleaning out the camera roll on my phone this week. You know how, before you realize it, those pictures and emails can get out of hand. Well, in the midst of my technological housekeeping, I came across some quite unfortunate and unintentional selfies that were deleted at once- lest the children try to work them into my funeral home slideshow, one day, in some miscalculated attempt at humor. I can’t begin to express to you how ghastly they really were. Enough so that, perhaps, I should start putting a little back for some work down the road.

You see, before Christmas, I’d bought a handy little contraption in anticipation of all those holiday group pictures we’d be taking. You know, for the times when you don’t have any extra people hanging around who can serve as photographer or you try to prop your phone up against a book and set the timer. Well, those always end up looking like a lineup at the police station, which is never ideal for pictures commemorating Jesus’ birthday. Anyway, I decided I’d experiment with another option, so I ordered a small bendable cell phone tripod that could stand or wrap around just about anything and came with a remote control that would snap the picture. All of our photography woes were sure to be solved.

At Christmas, every time we’d get together with a different group of family, I’d get it out and brag about how handy it was and how little I paid for it. By the 3rd or 4th time that I brought it out, my kids started finishing my sentence, “....and I only paid $20 for it- we know, Mom.” I couldn’t help that I was super proud of my contraption.

I could only find one flaw in its design and that was when you were putting the phone into the tripod holder, it would, often times, trigger the emergency call feature, causing you to have to scramble to shut it off before you unnecessarily disturbed the people over at 911. So, because of this unfortunate drawback, I inadvertently took a lot of selfies from my lap over the holidays as I frantically tried to disengage the emergency alert system. I’m talking rapid fire selfies.

If you are 50 or over, I would strongly suggest you place your camera in your lap, switch the camera to selfie mode, and take some pictures of yourself. It will free your spirit from any sinful grip placed on it by the tentacles of pride and vanity. My neck and chin reminded me of when the headliner started coming unglued in my first car. There’s a lot of slack and billowing under there where slack and billowing once did not exist.

This week, Motherhood and Muffin Tops celebrates 7 years of - well, whatever it is we do here. The “About Me” section of the blog is almost completely outdated now. When I started this, I had a daughter who’d just left for college and a son in junior high and braces. My age still started with a 4, the brain fog of menopause (or whatever this is) hadn’t set in, and I’m pretty sure my neck skin was taut and didn’t billow.

A lot has happened in 7 years. Life is full of happy and sad moments and all those in-between changes to which we have to adjust. I could never thank you enough for spending some of your week listening to me carry on about stuff. I’ve worked through all kinds of things on here- grief, life stages, changes- and, sometimes, just laughed and snorted like a middle schooler about ridiculous things.

Whatever life brings for us to talk about in year 8, I hope we can feel like we’re never alone here. I imagine the things you experience are a lot like the things I experience. My fears probably resemble yours and your hopes are likely similar to mine. I’ve always loved the quote by C.S. Lewis about friendship. I bet it applies to blogships, too.“Friendship...is born at the moment when one man says to another “What! You too? I thought I was the only one.” Most days, the sun shines down on us and life feels so good, but, sometimes, the rain just pelts us in the face. It helps to know that other people understand what that feels like- the warmth of the sun and the sting of the rain. God promises to walk with us through it all. Let’s keep on walking, talking, and laughing all together.

You’re the best and I appreciate you more than you know.

JONI

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Thursday, January 28, 2021

The Test of Time

8:36 PM

I’ve been watching old classic TV, lately. Besides Blue Bloods, I’m not really a big fan of any current TV show and haven’t been in quite some time. Maybe I’ve tried watching the wrong stuff- I don’t know. Honestly, being transported to the past for 30 minutes or so is, sometimes, preferable to remaining in today’s reality, so I’ve really enjoyed going back and looking at the old fashions, furnishings, and cars. Something about their happy synthesizer theme songs and hokey story lines just take me to a simpler time in my mind- like back to my parents’ 70’s plaid couch with my head laying in my mother’s lap. Gee, I can’t imagine why I’d find that carefree time to be nostalgically comforting, right now. I’ve been watching Alice, The Bob Newhart Show, The Waltons, Who’s the Boss, Happy Days, The Jeffersons, The Mary Tyler Moore Show, All in the Family, The Carol Burnett Show, Sanford and Son, and even an episode or two of Dallas. Yeah, like I said- some corny story lines but strangely settling.

With less entertainment choices back then, the TV lineup was a big deal. It was what you did at night. We all had our favorites and planned our week around being at home for them- especially before the VCR. Before that recording wonder, if you missed your show, you’d missed it forever. The actors and actresses were beloved and we’d invite them into our homes each week just like family. Mrs. Wiggins, John Boy, Aunt Esther, Eunice, Mr. Bentley. Seems like I’m reading about stars from that era dying on a frequent basis now. But, those people, who were a big part of my weekly routine back then, would be completely unrecognized by my children. Just like I wasn’t interested in watching reruns of The Burns and Allen Show or Perry Mason with my parents, my kids haven’t shown any desire to join me in my stroll down TV memory lane. I bet either one of my kids could ride in an elevator with Sue Ellen, Flo, Ted Baxter, or Grady and have no idea that they were in the presence of anyone noteworthy. That’s ok, because I can watch an episode of their beloved The Office or some of their current shows and I’m like- “well, that’s an hour I’ll never get back.”

Along those same lines, I was driving across town, a couple of weeks ago, and they were replaying an old American Top 40 with Casey Kasem on the radio. My Sunday afternoons belonged to Casey in the 80’s. If the preacher didn’t go too long and my parents didn’t talk excessively after church, I could make it home in time to listen to the top twenty songs, at least. Well, my trip across town to pick up Davis’ birthday cake happened to be just as the top two songs of the week of January 21, 1984 were coming on. “Say, Say, Say“ by Paul McCartney and Michael Jackson was number 2 and always a favorite and then came the drum roll to herald the big announcement of the number one song in the land, “Owner of a Lonely Heart”. Oh, that was a good one. They played it over and over on the radio back in my day and nothing can take you back in time like music can, so I turned it up as I was feeling 16 again- driving my sensible, family-sized SUV.

My kids will never know the urgency of getting a cassette tape rewound and ready to record the number one song on a boom box. Pressing play and record at the exact same time for a clean recording and hoping no one busted up in your room halfway through it- they’ll never know that pressure. As Carson blurted out, later that night around the fire pit as the Bluetooth speaker shuffled my 70’s and 80’s stations, “What is this garbage we’re listening to?” I informed him that it was Mr. Lionel Richie followed by the legendary Bee Gees. Hello. The Commodores- do they not ring a bell? And does he not know how many Bee Gees Teen Beat posters were pinned to the walls of my friends’ bedrooms in their early teens? Not mine, of course, as my mother would never allow men in tight pants to serve as home decor. But, these people were big deals then and their hottest hit music that we were desperate to capture on cassette is just torture to young people now. Not unlike the pained half-smile I gave my mother when she had me listen to “Honeycomb” and “Chantilly Lace” while telling me how handsome Elvis was in his younger years.

When I got married, there was a certain type of pottery that was very popular. I selected a pattern and registered for a large swath of pieces. I had gotten almost everything that was available in “my pattern” by the time is it was all said and done and it adorned our kitchen for many years. The salt and pepper shakers, the flower pot, the platters, the canisters. I used the serving pieces when company came over and had several pieces that I just displayed on my counter. And as with most collections, just about the time you’ve collected it all, the trend starts to fizzle out and something else comes along to take its place. I believe I eventually sold some of it at a garage sale as Blair certainly had no interest in it. She failed to see its allure with their 90’s jewel tones certainly not fitting today’s color palette. The colors listed on her ‘17 bridal registry bore absolutely no resemblance to the navy, emerald, and burgundy which saturated mine in ‘92.

Likewise, I recently went to an estate sale of an old family friend. Rooms were filled with old things that her kids didn’t want. Things she’d accumulated and collected. Things that had seen their day, but that day had long passed and the next generation didn’t see the same value in them that she had. I thought that will eventually come to all of us. Somehow, I envision the same fate for most of my things except it will probably be more along the lines of a garage sale and a loaded-down truck headed to the thrift store in exchange for a tax receipt. Aside from sentimental pieces, heirloom items, and a few timeless things, there’s not much that will have the staying power to appeal to our kids and their new tastes by the time they have to clean out our house.

Most of the things we value or enjoy in the world won’t stand the test of time. What’s hot now will be in the not column soon enough. The current trends and fashions, the biggest names in the magazines, the most popular must-haves, the top 10 lists -they change like the direction of the wind. If you don’t think so, just unseal the acid-free storage box containing your wedding dress and ask your daughter if she’d like to wear it on her wedding day or ask your kids their opinion on your hair in your high school yearbook. Things are here for a while and then laughable by the time the next generation comes along.

The only thing we can pass on to the younger generation that will have real staying power is to leave them with the knowledge of Jesus’ saving grace. That is a treasure that will stand the test of eternity. “Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today, and forever.” (Hebrews 13:8) “Your faithfulness endures to all generations” (Psalm 119:90) “Give thanks to the God of heaven, for his steadfast love endures forever.” (Psalm 136:26) “But you are the same and your years have no end.” (Psalm 102:27) “He never changes or casts a shifting shadow.” (James 1:17) “Let us hold fast to the confession of our hope without wavering, for he who promised is faithful.” (Hebrews 10:23) “How precious is your steadfast love, O God! The children of mankind take refuge in the shadow of your wings.” (Psalm 36:7) Steady, faithful, dependable, enduring, and unchanging- that is what the world is searching for right about now. To lead our children and young people to this constant and faithful source of salvation, comfort, and strength as everything else seems to be so unsteady, well, that would be the greatest gift we could give them- for now and forever. Everything else is just on its way out.

Y’all have a great weekend!

JONI

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Wednesday, January 13, 2021

This One’s for the Ladies

6:44 PM

As sort of a public service reminder, I thought we’d talk about something that might not be our favorite topic, but is still very important. I went for my yearly woman appointment yesterday. You, ladies, know the one. That appointment where they say “everything off” and then hand you a sheet in exchange for everything you walked in with except your watch. I have to say that the pandemic has, at least, given us some added mercy- now it’s “everything off but the mask”- for whatever that’s worth.

Well, you get it all off and folded neatly and jump up on the crinkly paper with your sheet- where you wait. You always have plenty of time to get the sheet distributed to the right places and even enough time to rethink the distribution and then redistribute. Sometimes, you may have to standby for as long as it takes a baby to be delivered or for a complicated hysterectomy to wrap up. In some cases, you can have a long time to think about life while you wait for the doctor. Yesterday, I started passing the time by reading the posters. There was one of a very pregnant woman holding her bare belly so lovingly. I thought it was nice and remembered that special feeling, but felt a bit of indignation that there wasn’t a poster of a menopausal woman tenderly caressing her bare muffin top. Sure, it’s not quite as miraculous as pregnancy but we, more mature girls, deserve a place on the wall. I mean, there’s something strangely beautiful about skin that never went back like it was and a pouch of invincible fat that always hangs over the waistline of your pants the way ice cream hangs over its cone. Besides, those younger girls ought to get a glimpse into the harsh realities of the aging woman so it won’t be such a jolt later on.

After getting over my feelings of hormonal discrimination, my gaze moved over to the color diagram of the ovaries. On one side, the ovary was pictured pink and plump and full of life and, on the other side, the ovary was kind of like a raisin - shriveled looking and lacking healthy color. I thought- well, at least, we, mature girls, are represented on the ovary diagram as I imagined that’s how mine looked- like a couple of prunes hanging on withered branches and not good for much of anything at this point. From there, I was running out of entertainment as I waited. I shifted to get more comfortable on the crinkly paper and made sure my sheet was still in the places it was needed most. When an appointment is running way behind, you may find yourself counting ceiling tiles or trying to decide, once and for all, if those are tanning bed bulbs in that light at the foot of the table. Convinced that they must be, you grab the light by its gooseneck and see that it’s wattage is equivalent to that of a laser beam- just as you suspected.

Invariably, if your doctor delivers babies, you might be left on the crinkly paper so long that you start having to go to the little girls’ room even though you were very careful to go just before you got there. Knowing that one cannot go to the restroom often induces sudden and urgent feelings of needing to go to the restroom. I’m certain this is quite common at the yearly checkup and should likely have its own syndrome name in the psychology books. This dilemma brings up the process of weighing the pros and cons of telling the nurse you have to go. Will she come back in here? Is it worth getting dressed? Do I really have to go that bad? What is the worst thing that could happen if I don’t go? Could I just dart across the hall in my sheet?

If it’s a Caesarean birth you’re waiting on, you might lie on the crinkly paper and wish you had your phone to help pass the time. There you are on the tall table with your sheet situated just right and there is your phone- in your purse- on the chair- across the room. Should you get up and make a run for it and risk the door opening halfway through your mission? You start to question your speed. Can I leap off this table, get to my purse, dig out my phone, hoist myself back up onto this elevated surface- all while keeping the crinkly paper between my tush and the certainly germy table below and have my sheet passing the three-point inspection before he gets in here? Sometimes, you feel quick and agile and you go for it and, some days, you decide you better just play it safe and start over with your tile counting.

If the doctor is actually in the building while you wait, another way to pass the time is by trying to guess how many exam rooms away the doctor is by gauging the volume of his/her voice. The louder it gets and the more words you can make out brings hope that he is getting closer. By the time he/she makes it to the room next to yours, you should be able to hear most of what ails that lady and what can be done about it. This is your sign that it’s almost your turn and there’s no time left to run for the purse or the restroom.

If the holidays taught us, women, anything at all, it’s that our families need us. Boy, do they need us. Visions of Davis handling Christmas with a bucket of chicken and the distribution of bank envelopes with names scribbled across them, well, it makes me want to take care of myself. Sure, there are things we’d rather do with that time and many, many places we’d rather go, but it’s just a little smidgen of time out of each year to get ourselves checked, so we can stick around as long as possible. It’s really not that bad. Like most things in life, the waiting is the hardest part.

Take care of yourselves, ladies.

We’ll talk next week.

Joni

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Thursday, January 7, 2021

Overstuffed

6:04 PM

Well, I hope y’all had a wonderful holiday season with your people or, at least, your people who weren’t quarantined like one of my brothers and his crew. An unfortunate hunting camp trip ended up spreading Covid to him and six of his family members just in time for Christmas- striking them off of our guest list. Nothing will get you uninvited to a party faster than that. We didn’t have our larger family gatherings, but enjoyed several more intimate ones. It was a different kind of Christmas for sure, but it was wonderful in its own way.

If I had to choose a word to encapsulate our holiday celebrations, it would be cheese. Yes, besides the obvious word, Jesus, I’d have to go with cheese. We have consumed all manner of cheeses in obscene amounts prepared in various ways. I’m pretty sure I stayed in the kitchen from December 23- January 1 and, on Christmas Day, for a brief moment, I did contemplate smothering Davis with his pillow as he napped without care. The stresses of the holidays can do that to a woman, you know.

My biggest cooking event was on Christmas night. We hosted my Mama along with our kids. I cooked a tenderloin for the first time in an iron skillet and it was perfection. Remember when we were little, we thought all those goodies and yummy foods just appeared when, in reality, while our tails were stretched out on the couch watching Charlie’s Angels, our mamas were up making candies and cookies and chopping all that stuff that goes in the dressing and grating pounds of cheese for the macaroni and then she got one subpar gift that we’d all chipped in to get her. Well, at some point, we need to start paying our mothers back for that dark period. She needs to sit on her tail while we do all the work. Mine won’t live enough years for me to fully repay her for all her Christmas labors of love, but I can make some installments.

And can you believe we adopted Ruby from the shelter two years ago? She celebrated her second anniversary here with us over the holidays. When I say celebrated, I mean she found a wrapper from a neighbor’s Christmas ham, which contained all the discarded trimmings and fat and apparently ate so much of it that she was unable to walk home. It was getting dark, so Davis and Carson went looking for her in the truck. She was so full of ham that she couldn’t move and was just sitting with her distended belly in the neighbor’s driveway- hoping someone would come along and give her a ride home. When Davis picked her up to put her in the truck, she let out a big groan of misery. For the next 24 hours, she lay around looking pregnant- moaning, listless, and dazed until finally the contents of the ham wrapper were expelled out onto our floor. And that is how we celebrated two years of Ruby belonging to us.

I think that’s how most of us have felt since the holidays. Not just full of cheese, but dazed, stuffed, and miserable from all the news and information we’ve consumed over the last several months in our country. I know I’m just left feeling like Ruby. All that I’ve consumed is like those ham trimmings. It won’t go up or down. It’s just sitting there in my gut- weighing on me. It’s just been too much to digest at once. I think we all especially enjoyed Christmas, this year, because we could forget about everything going on around us and we hoped that the new year would, somehow, shed a better light on things but here we are on day 7- still consuming the depressing news. It’s ok to acknowledge that we have some tough stuff going on and we can find ourselves feeling discombobulated.

I’m not sure of much, these days. I’m not sure how things will play out. I’m not sure the direction we’re headed. I’m not sure of what the future will bring. I’m not sure common ground can be found. But, I am most certain that when I am overstuffed with the worries of the world, there is One who will always come looking for me and carry me back to a place of comfort and peace. He will always help me to lift my chin- no matter how weighed down it may feel.

I’m literally feeling lighter today after my long-awaited hair appointment. I think Katie removed about 10 pounds of hair and covered my gray, so things are looking up for the second week of the new year. Remember, sometimes, things look their very worst right before they look much, much better. Exhibit A.

Blair and John Samuel now have COVID, but are doing good. It’s awfully germy out there, people. It’s just best to distance yourself from John Q. Public right now, but it’s going to get better!

Happy 2021!

Chins up!

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