It’s a really hectic week here. Probably for you, too. Easter week always manages to be that way, but in all of your busyness, I hope you can find the peace and joy of the season. Sitting here in a world that seems to be growing bolder with its evil, more brash with its irreverence, and more brazen with its perversions, Easter can’t help but remind us that we “All have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.” Not just Lil Nas whoever and Cardi B. I would be dead in my sin if Jesus hadn’t come to take the judgement I deserved. 

I haven’t found time to write, this week, but I’m sharing a post I wrote several Easters ago. 

It's a King riding a lowly donkey.

It's praising that turns to scoffing.

It's quiet love looking into red faces of hate.

It's grace offered to the ungracious.

It's sleeping while sweat falls like blood nearby.

It's betrayal by a chosen friend.

It’s wanting to return something you can’t return. 

It's friends gathered to friends scattered. 

It's unrest swirling around the Prince of Peace.     

It’s promise making and promise breaking before the rooster crows. 

It's freeing a murderer and murdering innocence.     

It's heavenly power mocked by earthly power.  

It's silent restraint in the middle of loud humiliation.

It's the King of Kings wearing thorns instead of gold.  

It's everlasting authority being challenged by temporary thrones.

It's a mother's heart being broken and saved at the same time.  

It's the purest given for the putrid.

It’s mocking the only name that can save you.

It's the Creator killed by His own creations.

It's asking for forgiveness instead of revenge.  

It's dying while possessing all the power to escape.

It's the innocent taking punishment for the guilty.

It's paying a debt He didn't incur.  

It's complete submission in a world of self-promotion.

It's a sun that refuses to give off light.

It's immortal willing to become mortal.  

It's prophesy fulfilled and yet unrecognizable to those who claim to know.

It's guarding something that’s empty.

It's good news in a time of mourning.  

It's hope in days of trouble and glory in the face of death.

It's gain that comes from loss.

It’s a beginning coming after an end. 

It's free to all but cost One so much.   

It's a denier being restored by the Denied.

It's despairing sorrow bringing everlasting joy.

It's living in a world without being of it. 

It's hope for the hopeless.

I decided I’d go dress shopping, last Friday. I’d attended the funeral of the brother of a friend in a nearby town that I frequent and thought I’d do some shopping while I was down that way. When the service was over, it was lunchtime and I was getting so hungry and began to consider all the food choices near the places I was going to shop. I planned to make it a quick trip, so something fast was on my mind. A rule of our house is that whenever you’re out of town, no matter how close or far away, you must eat at an establishment that we don’t have in our own town. For example, no matter how bad someone is craving Chick-Fil-A, while we’re on vacation, it is strictly prohibited according to family statute. 

Anyway, Five Guys is one of my all-time favorite burgers and we don’t have one of those where we live, so I gave into the greasy temptation and turned into their parking lot. Since there’s no dine-in option at most fast food restaurants yet, I went in to place my order and then took my oil-soaked bag full of goodness to the car and enjoyed every morsel in solitude, where no one could witness the finger-licking and moaning. 

Having my hunger extinguished, next on the list was to find some new dresses. It’s springtime and Easter is also coming, so I needed to find a few new things for the new season. We’ve talked before, at length, about what an ordeal it is to find pretty, semi-flattering dresses that don’t look like they’d be more appropriate for your daughter or your mother. It’s really an issue for us, women in the middle. 

Well, I headed into the first store and, to my surprise, I quickly found 5 dresses that I wanted to try on, so I spoke to the sales lady as I headed into the dressing room with the hangers dangling from my fingers. I was so tickled with my good fortune. It was an embarrassment of riches, really. I’d found all these dresses that I liked and they had them all in my size. It started to seem likely that the task at hand would take much less time than I’d anticipated. 

Is there any greater dread than trying on dresses though? I mean, you have to really like a dress to commit to the ordeal because everything has to come off in order to do so. Not to mention, we don’t realize the important role the pants’ waistband plays until it is no longer there to help corral the overspillage. And trying on dresses isn’t like slipping on a top or even into a pair of pants, so it’s not something you want to do on a day that you have anywhere else to go because, when you’re done, you’ll appear as if you’ve been rolling around in a ball pit all day. Hair-sticking every-which-a-way and clothes- all wrinkled and twisted with static and makeup- sweated completely off your face and self-confidence- beaten to a pulp. 

I might add here, that seeing yourself in a three way mirror under fluorescent lighting after gorging on Five Guys is one way to keep your humility in check. I’m starting to notice that the older I get, the more opportunities I’m getting to keep my humility in good working order- like when I was reading the program before the funeral began and saw one sister listed and it wasn’t my friend’s name. Then I realized I was reading those who’d preceded him in death and not the survivors but, for a moment, a cold chill went over me thinking I was sitting in the wrong funeral. So, yeah. My brain and body are giving me frequent reminders that a spring chicken, I am not.

Anyways, back to the dressing room. I got down to my socks and unmentionables and started taking the first dress off the hanger. About that time, I heard groaning coming from the next dressing room and it wasn’t a noise of merriment or enjoyment like the ones I’d made in the Five Guys parking lot. And I hadn’t even started the process, but that mirror situation reflecting the bulge of my cheeseburger already had me wanting to make some guttural noises myself. I just wanted to shout through the partition, “I feel ya, girl” to the poor whimpering soul over there. 

The first dress was one of those numbers that has two layers. Like a full slip-type layer sewn into the dress itself. I put my arms in and noticed it felt kind of snug, so I pulled them back out to look for a zipper. Undoubtedly, there was one that I’d overlooked to give more room for entry. Surely, the lack of space wasn’t because I needed a bigger size. But, no zipper was found upon inspection, so I decided to just go in anyway. I mean, what’s the worst that could happen? Sometimes, you have to get them all the way on before they fit right. I got halfway in when the slip part got hung up coming out of the top of the dress and I couldn’t fish it out. It was quite uncomfortable with that added layer of bulk testing the stretchability of the top half. Shortness of breath ensued as I tugged and pulled and let out some groans myself as sweat beaded up on my upper lip. Finally, all the layers of dress were pulled down into their designated place and I actually liked it. I mean, I imagined in my mind how it would look if I had thrown my Spanx in my purse before I’d left home and had eaten watercress for lunch instead of that burger and fries. After deliberation, I decided if I had the proper shapewear and if I didn’t go by Five Guys on the way to church on Easter Sunday morning then it would likely work.

The second one was so cute and form fitting. Form fitting is ok if you’re properly primed for it but I wouldn’t call my overindulged condition primed for anything except frustration. I slipped into it and got one shoulder in but the next one was the doozy. That second shoulder will get you every time. I tuned red and strained and tried to maneuver my way into it. I got in finally but this one wasn’t going to work. I let my stomach muscles relax and looked like I was in my second trimester. You could have put me out in a field of wildflowers in this dress, caressing my muffin top lovingly and it could’ve easily passed for a maternity photo shoot- I mean, if you cropped off my 52 year old head. The trademark Five Guys’ extra generous helping of fries had the fabric stretched beyond the point of respectability and no amount of spandex could fix it. It was time to take that one off and getting out is always harder than getting in. Do I dare ask for help from the groaning lady next door? Maybe she was over there stuck in her dress, too. She’d gotten awfully quiet. I hoped she hadn’t lost consciousness. I got one shoulder halfway out and then hit a wall. I was stuck. Heat started to rise. The material started to itch. My claustrophobia started to flare up. A sense of panic set in that I would have to be cut free. I twisted and grunted and popped a couple of stitches but finally escaped. I hung it back up for some low-carbing CrossFitter to come along. I was worn out, but had more work ahead of me.  

        Keeping it real here on M&M- but not real enough to show you the one of the side view.

On my way to pay for the one dress that had made the cut, I overheard a woman talking to what appeared to be her two daughters as she entered the dress area. She looked to be a little older than me and she said, “I just want a dress that’s pretty that doesn’t make me look fat and looks like it’s for someone my age.” I suppose she was reciting her mission statement as she went into the fight and I wanted to say, “Preach it, sister.” I mean, is that really too much to ask of a dress? Her words should be sent to designers-near and far- for dressing room grunters everywhere. 

I tried on 9 dresses at two stores, that day, and bought one. Next time I go, I’ll go before lunch. 

Hope you’re having a great week! It’s been a little crazy around here, but I’m glad to check in with y’all! 

Have a Happy Wednesday! 

JONI

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. 

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

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. 

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

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. 

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