PENSIEVE

What "blesses YOUR heart"?

What are the little, almost ignorable things that touch you...that can turn a frown upside down and absolutely make your day? 

It's almost a joke in my home, the teensy things that "bless" me.  {This is more a Southernism than a spiritual blessing, though sometimes they're 'bout one in the same ;).}  Though we smile at my sometimes insanity (getting downright giddy over the neighborhood mushroom explosion from recent Rains of Ark-like Proportion), I'm convinced receiving blessing in the little things does a body good.  

Recent examples in my sphere?

• Hot blueberry muffins with butter melting down the sides this morning (the aroma filling the kitchen is bonus!).
• One of my daughter's best friends wrote ME a love note!  "...hope you're having a swell week...I think your [sic] pretty, and a great role model..."  {Ummm, how much am I loving her right now?}
• My 12-year-old son, home a few days early from Fall break (school closed due to near-20% illness-related absenteeism) just says, "You wanna take a picture of something?  I just built something out of Lincoln Logs and you might wanna take a picture...." {meaning HE wants me to take a picture} {How many times have we thought it was "time" to pass along that old standard building set?  How grateful am I we still have it so he can be a little boy just a little bit longer??}

Now, your turn:  Share something that blesses your heart!  When you tell others, you'll be passing along some wonderful warm fuzzies (which, in turn, will bless the hearts of many! :) ).

Thief of memories

Breast cancer doesn't just plunder body, it is a thief of memories.  I have good reason to hate it, too: 

The memory album of my mother is too small. 

Blank pages are haunted with wonderings of "what might have been, if only."  If only.  If only.... They aren't words heart-whispered often anymore, but I'm acutely aware cancer robbed me of more memories, especially more good memories of Mama.

Flashback to 1971, Athens, Georgia, approaching the intersection of Milledge Avenue and Baxter Drive.  I don't remember where we had been but I do know we were headed to our apartment less than a mile away.  In her fourth year of battling cancer, Mama felt bad and needed to get home. 

In my eight-year-old way of thinking, I wanted to do something (anything) to make her feel better.  Children use whatever tactic they can conjure to stall bedtime, so I decided my gift to her would be going straight to bed without argument or "one more glass of water" as soon as we got home.

My intent was to let her know what she had to look forward to.  Subtle-as-a jackhammer in the sleepiest voice I could muster, I yawned, "I can't wait to get home and go to bed," and continuing my Academy Award-winning charade, "I'm almost falling asleep..." 

Stopped at the red light before my sentence was complete, Mama's car door suddenly opened.  The sound of violent retching followed by vomited splatter echoed throughout our sedan.  As she wiped her mouth and closed the door, her beleaguered voice took aim and fired over the back seat in my direction, "Well, just don't fall asleep in the car...!"

Stunned, I recoiled from her verbal dagger; my ears may have done the hearing of her barbed words, but it was my little girl's heart that felt them.  

I imagine it's why I still remember this scene.

I wanted to cry, but I knew that would just upset Mama more, and even then I knew she meant no harm.  Holding back tears, I mumbled something to reassure her I was fine and wouldn't be falling asleep in the car after all.

I don't remember anything after the light turned green.

Mama died the following Spring.

No wonder I h.a.t.e. cancer.

No wonder I'm grateful for the lessons Mama taught me in the nine years we shared.

No wonder I've walked in the Race for the Cure since I discovered it.

No wonder I celebrate and praise God my sister is a 12+ year survivor!

And because with all my heart I believe a cure exists in our future...and because I don't want children to grow up with ANY sad and too few good memories of their moms, it's with boldness I ask you to...

Click through to the Breast Cancer Site daily to provide FREE mammograms to those in need (it costs you nothing but a second of time!).  They'll even send you a daily reminder if you're prone to forgetfulness.

and

Make a contribution to National Breast Cancer Foundation or a similar organization. 

Stop that damnable thief from robbing any more memories from children; help stop it from stealing years from the lives of women.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

If at any time this month you've blogged about Breast Cancer Awareness, I invite you to share your link in comments; I'll add it below as I'm able.  And thank you for using your voice on behalf of others.  Your words are making a difference.  :)

Your stories ~
"Seventeen Years," The Gypsy Mama

"Grab Your Boobies," The Diaper Diaries

Click broken heart image to return to its original source.

It's as good a reason as ANY to have a party!

I'm hosting a party on Friday for one of the silliest reasons on the planet.

Once upon a time I would buy anything if it was on sale for at least 75% off.  With great enthusiasm I would justify rationalize explain to my husband "BUT-HONEY-LOOK-HOW-MUCH-MONEY-I-SAAAAVED!!!" while he would just shake his head and praise God that at least I wasn't a retail price binge shopper. 

I swear it was like a druggie getting a fix, the "high" directly proportional to the percentage off.  Once at the Hallmark store, I found decorative clay vases and urns for ONE CENT and flipped in-store cartwheels for HITTING THE MOTHER LODE while the employees--thrilled to get the blasted inventory OUT OF THEIR STORE AND INTO MY CAR and unconcerned it was probably some accounting glitch in their system (Why in the world would they sell ANYTHING for a single penny???)--assured me I wasn't doing anything "wrong" or peculiar by buying a dozen clay vessels.  

I got them home, put 'em in my "sale closet" smugly satisfied that Christmas shopping was done for a few people; though in mid-July I didn't even know who I'd give them to.  

That was inconsequential.

On another visit to the same Hallmark store, I hit the lottery again, this time with a 75% off jackpot. 

 

I found a dozen soup and sandwich trays reminiscent of blue and white delftware, marked down to $2.50!  Originally $10, I scooped up every one of them!  Imagining my future, I envisioned monthly get-togethers with my girlfriends just for the sake of using the darling plate-trays and soup mugs.  And,
s u r e, to enjoy my friends' company, too.

I've used them once in the decade-plus I've had them.  I'm sure that's a sin of some sort.

Soooo...when my beloved blog sistah, Amber, began encouraging others to host a girlfriend party, the wheels started turning in my head.  She reminded me that nurturing friendship requires intent; I realized it had been a long, long time since I hosted a gathering in my home for "no reason" other than the sake of investing in others' lives.  Sowing friendship; reaping tenfold the same.  

While I love The Matrix the blogosphere and my imaginary friends the wonderful writers I've met in person--and the ones I've yet met but whose blogs I adore--I realize it's way too easy to invest in those friendships at the expense of the women who will pick up my kids from school when I'm in a pinch, bring me dinner when I need it, or hug me when I need the touch of kindred soul.  And much more important, how will I know when they need a kind word or touch or dinner when they're too sick to get out of bed if I'm not in on-going relationship with them?

So, yes, on one hand I'm hosting a party on Friday for one of the silliest reasons on the planet:  to use my soup tray-plates & mugs.  But on that other hand?  It's to share life with special friends...just because it's passed time.  For both :).

YOUR TURN:  How are you investing in the lives of your friends?  How have your friends surprised or blessed you lately? 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wanna host your own Sister Party?  Visit The Runamuck for details.

Page 64

Okay, so this might not be a big deal to you, and I know it really doesn't "matter"...but daggum it, I'M QUOTED IN TIME MAGAZINE THIS WEEK!!

Picked up from the online article I mentioned a few weeks ago, they decided to include it in print.  The cover story might be "The Tragedy of Detroit" but from where I'm sitting?  Apparently I'm swimming in controversial water by my alignment with Sponsored Tweets.

Whatevah....

For now I'm just having fun sharing the news.  And it'll give my friends in real life one more opportunity to tell me I'm
only a l m o s t famous :).

Posy & posies

Here's a posy:

And here's another view of the same posy using a different setting on my camera (which I failed to record, so I have no idea what I did differently, other than it's different...).  All I know is I was trying to work on bokehs, because Miz Booshay & Ree put the idea in my head and it stayed there like a "It's a Small World" earworm:

 

Flowers--even flowery weeds--ALWAYS brighten my day and disposition; same for you?

But these posies?  They don't need water, dirt or sunlight, they never die, and you can have a set of your very own.  

Stephanie's sent out an all-call for your favorite creative Pleated Poppy posy pin uses, so give her a shout with your brilliant ideas!   S o m e o n e will come away a winner of a beautiful silver necklace from Lisa Leonard.  

Liars and Kings

Apples and oranges, night and day carrots, friendship and truth--what could they possibly have to do with one another?

I had a leetle inadequacy meltdown a few weeks ago as I prepared for speaking at my sessions at Type-A Mom Conference.  To hear the rest of the story, please visit (in)courage where I've posted today.

:)

"Find a penny head-side up...

...all day long you'll have good luck."

While I'm not a believer in luck or coincidence, every time I discover a penny on the ground shining up at me it makes me happy.  May your day be full of shiny happies :).

True story: Tim Tebow and Tom go to jail

Tickling 70 years old, my father-in-law dreams big. 

I remember his call back in March—no one was around when I answered the phone in the kitchen and it was cold and dark outside and I was leaning on the counter to the right of our gas stove.  The particulars don't matter but I still can envision the scene; I sensed we were poised to embark on adventure. 

That's what made an otherwise forgettable moment, memorable. 

"Do you know who Tim Tebow is?" he asks, expecting the answer in the affirmative, his voice belying excitement and the-child-in-him smile.  I'm embarrassed to admit I was hesitant to answer in case I got it wrong--that's how much I care about football these days.  Don't judge me.

But I knew.  It's hard to forget someone with Tim's reputation--his pores drip "good" in every sense of the word...fierce competitor, remarkable student, devoted servant-leader, unashamed Christ follower. 

My father-in-law continued.  “I’m gonna ask Tim to speak at the prison.” 

He was on a first-name basis with a young man he had never met.  He had never even had a conversation or exchange with him or anyone remotely related to him, by blood or mission.

But as soon as my father-in-law declared his intent, I knew it was a done deal; that’s just his way.  When people meet Tommy, they instantly like him.  He’s genuine.  He cares about others.  He’s given away his last dime to someone in need, probably on a few occasions.  He loves Jesus so much it’s natural for Tommy to mention Him in any conversation and you know it’s not pre-meditated or contrived.  Maybe he loves Jesus so much because he knows Him so well—the man wears out Bibles by highlighting passages and note taking in the margins and sometimes I sneak and read to get inside his head. 

Think Andy Taylor meets Billy Graham and you’ve got a close approximation.

Tommy has served in prison ministry at the same prison for sneaking up on 20 years.  Some of the men he’s ministered to were there at the beginning.  He’s watched boys grow into men.  He’s witnessed middle-aged men grow wrinkled and gray.  He knows innocent men who are serving time and he’s befriended guilty men who’ll be released.  He knows some will die behind bars.  On the most joyous occasions, men are released due to sentence served or early parole and they find jobs, continue their journey of faith, and minister to others…rehabilitated and changed.

Several times, my family has had the privilege of serving an early Christmas meal to the inmates (it took three posts to share my thoughts, and even then, I only scratched the surface).  Potentially I’ve served murderers, rapists, thieves and drug dealers.  I didn't expect the "leveling effect" of prison …with close-cropped hair and uniformed attire, these men look just like my neighbors, my friends, my family.  I just can’t see their “sins”.

It reminds me of the work of the cross….

A n y w a y s . . . within hours of Tommy's call to me, Reality began siphoning Tommy's dream out of his heart and mind, and began shaping the Real Life Version of all he hoped when he dared to imagine the Unlikely and Impossible. 

To be continued....

Give me revelation

An earnest prayer-through-song, a needy beggar's plea, from one who has questions crying out to the One who offers much more than simple answers. 

We are all beggars.

From Third Day's 2008 release "Revelation ", an album, had it been vinyl, I would've worn the grooves off. It's that good.

He croons, I swoon {ENTER to win your own copy of "Your Songs" by Harry Connick, Jr.}

Harry Connick, Jr. has a voice that penetrates marrow.  Velvety and scrumptious and as easy on the ears as he is on the eyes, Harry always leaves you wanting more.

When One2One Network extended the opportunity for me to review his latest release "Your Songs,"as a long-time fan I immediately jumped.  The icing on the cake is one of my lucky readers will receive a copy, too!

Much like Rod Stewart accomplished with his Great American Songbook Collection, Connick breathes new life into the Standards Baby Boomers already know, and introduces Big Band sound to a younger generation; in some cases he's borrowing "signature songs for iconoic performers"--Elvis, Nat King Cole, Frank Sinatra--and spinning them with his style and grace; he honors them in so doing.

My favorites?  All the Way and Smile, but wanna know what most impresses me about Harry Connick, Jr.?  He uses his celebrity to give back to others.  After witnessing the destruction of Gulf Coast hurricanes, he, along with Branford Marsalis, imagined the Musicians Village; rather than me explain, it's worth your time to click the link to learn more.  You'll be heartened.

Interested in winning a copy of "Your Songs"?  To enter, visit Harry's Facebook page and Fan him if you haven't already (be sure to leave a comment below letting me know you did).  If you aren't on Facebook, visit his official website and comment something you learned about him.  You can earn additional entries by tweeting about the giveaway and linking to this post, stumbling it, and honestly, however else you're inclined to promote the giveaway and comment an extra chance to win ;).  I'm pretty easy that way (but remember, the more separate comments you leave, the more you tip Random Integer Generator in your favor!).

Curious about the whole track list?  For your convenience:

All The Way (Frank Sinatra), Just The Way You Are (Billy Joel), Can’t Help Falling In Love With You (Elvis Presley), And I Love Her (The Beatles), (They Long To Be) Close To You (The Carpenters), Besame Mucho, The Way You Look Tonight, First Time Ever I Saw Your Face (Roberta Flack), Your Song (Elton John), Some Enchanted Evening, And I Love You So (Don McLean), Who Can I Turn To? (Tony Bennett), Smile (Charlie Chaplin), Mona Lisa (Nat King Cole)

STILL want more Harry?  How 'bout a behind the scenes look at ‘Making of’ the album:  http://bit.ly/HCJrVideo