Represent

 

In the past I have represented lots of families, organizations, people, and groups.

I represented the growing Turany family. I represented a good student at my grade school. I represented my immediate Wisconsin family moving west – snowbirds taking a permanent home in the desert. I represented the people group called “tomboys,” catching lizards and snakes, making mud and clay models of Indian ruins in my backyard, running around the neighborhood, biking around the neighborhood, searching for treasure in the alley, getting yelled at by the lady on the corner because she thought I was in her garden (which I wasn’t, I was just admiring her flowers), playing with trucks and blocks.

I represented the North High Mustang Band. I represented the North High Mustang Madrigals. I represented the National Honor Society and the Key Club. I represented the Good Shepherd Lutheran Church. I represented the Turany family in Phoenix and all the things that went with that.

I represented teens that loved classical music. I represented lost girls wandering the neighborhood, wondering what I would do when I grew up. I represented all the children that missed their grandmothers. I represented all young ladies that dressed right, acted right, smelled good, held themselves correctly, talked with good grammar (for which I was made fun of), hung out with the smart kids and had a bright future.

But deep inside I was not any of those things. I didn’t know what I was. The things I wanted were frowned upon, but the frown wasn’t explained. The things I was interested in were filtered through the words of my mother, so I began to keep quiet. She made my important thought her idea and washed it clean of my identity.

In college I steered clear of representing anything, the class I was in, the school I attended, the profession I was supposedly studying for, the mind set of the church I attended, the attitude I was supposed to have … all of it.

I had learned to hide myself.

After a few jobs and marriage, the children came and I was happy to NOT represent motherhood as portrayed by my relatives, my local society, my new family name, or my city. I didn’t want to represent anything. I just wanted to live my life in peace and quiet doing what I thought best for my family, my children, my husband. To represent anything I saw would have been stressful for my husband, unrealistic for my children and impossible for me to keep up with.

So I became comfortable in my own skin, insulting and disappointing people at an incredible rate and happily teaching my children and helping my husband as I was able.

Now, I am still a mother and a grandmother, but not the one you’re thinking of.

I’m a writer, but not the one you think I might be.

I’m a Christian and a Jesus freak, but not like you’ve met.

I enjoy all sorts of things like piano playing, quilting, gardening, crocheting, crafting, traveling, reading, planning and organizing, card sending, giving away things and giving to organizations, attending church and being involved (but not the way you think), praying for everything and everybody that pops into my head, doing Bible study and listening to messages, walking, running, picking up toads, talking to cats and birds and snakes and spiders (letting them know I appreciate them, there's plenty of room for them in my world and I’m not going to hurt them), stretching myself in new ways, earning money, doing bills, cleaning house, canning, preserving, writing a story, helping my children and my grandchildren, watching a movie once in a while, buying good food, buying fast food, spending too much money and saving as much as I can, being joyfully inconsistent …

… and shutting off the negative, judgmental, shaming voices of my past.

 

This was cleansing for me. I hope you were not offended. If you were, perhaps you need some time alone with yourself to understand why.

 

God Bless and join the fun!

Spontaneous

 

The praise was spontaneous.

The hug was spontaneous.

The shout

The slap

The jump out of the chair

The laughter

The grab

The pull back

The push

The call to the child was spontaneous.

The yell

The scream

The flight of the birds in the back yard

The noise from the flock of hens

The chill

The shudder

The seed pod bursting out its goodness

The seeds flying in the wind

The sour face

The wide eyes

The knee-jerk reaction

The pounce

The bark

The flying fist

The toddler stomp

The awing

The newborn cry

The tears

The smiles

The joy

 

So much spontaneity in life

 

Watch for it.

 

Then join us at Five Minute Friday!

Generous

For your standards, your humor, your strict counsel, and your unwavering love for me, Daddy, thank you. You taught me to respect people, respect guns, respect authority. You whistled tunes that told me everything was okay in the world. You taught me how to create a bedroll and start a campfire. You were my go-to for algebra, chemistry, and trig. You took me into situations where I had to learn to be self-sufficient – things every woman should know. You disciplined me in private to spare me humiliation. You set a high standard for my work life. You expected a lot from me but were gracious when I failed. You worried and prayed and hugged and celebrated and taught me to pray about everything.

But most of all you taught me how to shake hands with people, firmly grasping the hand offered, looking them in the eye, an unspeakably powerful sign of mutual respect.

Thank you, Dad, for your generosity.
 
For your love and concern; for your hopeful, cheerful attitude; for your singing silly songs and playful banter; thank you, Momma. You taught me so much. You were my go-to for English and typing and history. You let me talk things out so I could be sure what I actually believed when the world was closing in. You counseled me in protecting myself, how to hold myself and how to move, how to care for myself and heal myself. You wanted me to be more than you, achieve all the dreams I had, achieve the dreams you had, and be a success. For your safe phrase, “You know you can come home anytime. There’ll always be a place for you.”

But most of all, Mom, thank you for showing me how to be a peacemaker. I watched you over and over again create a safe space for people who had conflict and show them a possible path out, a different way to think, a compromise.

Thank you, Mom, for your generosity.
 
Thank you, Connie, for always being there even though we are 2,000 miles apart. Thank you for sharing your childhood and family with me. Thank you for sharing dreams and goals. Thank you for treating me with respect all the while knowing your life was much more difficult than mine. Thank you for giving me an excellent example of what a friend should be.

But most of all, Connie, thank you for not giving up on me when I ignored you, or forgot about you, or were too busy with my own life to think about anything else.

Thank you, Connie, for your generosity.
 
For the unlimited access to you during my family explosion and my personal terror, thank you, Sandra. You answered all my calls. You counseled me in my trouble. You brought me out of the darkness and showed me the power I have in the Holy Spirit. You helped me understand how my choices of friends and direction of my life created the pit I had been in. You showed me the pit had steps to climb out, steep, but not impossible. You prayed over me and asked others to pray over me. You shared yourself, your story, your wisdom, your mistakes, and through that helped me understand.

But most of all, Sandra, you awakened the prayer warrior within me, the one that was placed there when I chose to follow Jesus.

Thank you, Sondra, for your generosity.
 
For joy, laughter, and challenges, my children, thank you. For the quiet times of book reading; for the crazy questions and brainstorming answers; for the fun; for sharing trips and adventures; for enduring hours of study and forced quiet; for obeying strict bedtimes so I wouldn’t go crazy, thank you. For the peeks into your young world, seeing things the way you do – bugs, squirrels, kittens, raccoons, birds, flowers, trucks, and tree limbs.

But most of all, children, thank you for continuing to share yourselves with me – it is such a blessing in my life.

Thank you, children, for your generosity.
 
And thank you readers for the generous use of your time.

Root

 

ROOT

You can sometimes tell if the root of a tree is strong by the event that happened after it is felled, by man or by a storm. Landscapers and forestry workers often talk about the energy in the roots of a plant. This gives hope to the survival of a plant, especially if it has encountered pests or has been repotted or moved to a new location. Methods abound for repotting houseplants, moving trees and shrubs, strengthening roots, and even starting roots. But ultimately it is up to the plant to grow and thrive.

I believe plants have an innate will to live. In the case of houseplants, its human caretakers can say they have a brown thumb, but many times it’s not an inborn ability to care for a plant, but the amount of time given to the plant daily combined with research and counseling.

The most successful plant people, whether they know it or not, are always talking about their plants and asking other plant people for advice, or reading books about their plants, or combing the Internet for information about their plants. Some plant people take classes on caring for plants, taking the information they glean and creating a beautiful environment for their babies.

Plant people cry when their plants die. Either they forgot about it, or they paid copious amounts of attention to it when it needed to be left alone. It is a failure when a plant dies and a time of mourning and renewing dedication to the survivors.

But so much depends on the roots.

If a plant is ailing, the first thing to be done after researching the problem is to repot. Many times the problem is within the roots. Pests, rot, atrophy, and other problems cannot be seen unless the plant is taken out of its environment and the roots are exposed to study.

That’s all I have on plants today. I’m praying you are growing your roots deep and strong.

Our ash tree was killed by bugs and blown down in a storm. The roots were strong and new tree is emerging.