Family Tradition

I was sitting at the kitchen table, a plate of pickles sat before me with creme cheese and Alvin and the Chipmunks were singing in the background.  Only this time, I wasn't the child.  I was the mom.  Weird. 

Ask anyone, my mom was awesome at making pickle wraps. Yum, yum, yum.  She used to make them before our big family Thanksgivings and Christmases at the Scottish Rite.  I loved "helping" her as a kid.  I would eat the peices of meat she let me have basically. 

So today, Megan climbs up in the chair next to me.  She took over my job.  I had to be the responsible one, not just the cute little meat eating kid.  What. The. Heck.  She was sweet though.  She had no idea that I was sitting there smiling at her and thinking about my mom and I doing the very same thing 15+ years ago. 

I will never forget the memories I share with my mom.  We would do all this stuff, pickle wraps, molasses cookies, set up, etc. for these family holidays.  And then I got to thinking about my Grandma Franks.

Megan points to the pictures on top of the doll cabinet. "Mommy's a baby!"
"Who else is up there Meg?"
"Megan!.... Sissy!"
"Who else Meg?"
"I don't know"
"Well Meggie, that's Aunt Candy, and Uncle Fred, and that's Grandpa Franks.  And see them?  That's Grandma and Grandpa Franks!"
"OH!"
"Did you know today was Grandma Franks' birthday?"
"yeah."
"Oh you did?  How old would she be?"
"Uh.... giggle I don't know."
"She would've been 103!"
"Oh!"

That's right my grandma would've been 103 if she were still alive.  It's so strange to think about her being that old.  So much time has passed. My children will never know these people that I grew up knowing. 

I started thinking of the time Mom and I were sitting in the backseat of the Jeep at Unlce Joe's house on Mother's Day one year.  It was whenever those little birthstone necklaces with the little kids on them were popular.  I had the smallest hands so I was back there stringing them on for Grandma's mother's day present.  I think I remember being annoyed because I was busy playing.

But, you know what?  I realized my kids have some pretty special things going for them.  I get to wrap Megan up in a blanket Grandma Franks crocheted for me.  Megan has this blanket that her great, great, great grandmother made.  She'll never meet her but a lot of kids don't even have these things that have been saved over the years. 

Of course I can tell her and Bay stories about my family.  Like the time Pop and I were over at Uncle Joe's (I don't care if he doesn't go by that anymore, for years I edured Onery Anne, he can deal with Joe)  But, I love him.  I really do.  Mom had such a good family.  Anyway Pop and I were over there with Grandma Franks and we made lunch, some soup.  We could not find a serving spoon to save our life.  Well, we could it was just one with holes in it.  And we made soup.  And the Annie-Tom kitchen mishaps began that day!  We all got a good laugh later.

And then there are the stories I heard Pop tell.  Now, he wasn't very detailed, but I knew that after him and Mom got married, Grandma wasn't his biggest fan.  And wasn't for a very long time.  But somewhere along the line things were smoothed out.  I don't know really, things like that were kept from me.  It's okay.  What I do know is I couldn't tell there was ever a disagreement between the two.  I remember when Grandma had her stroke on 12-20-1998 Pop and I visited her in the hospital everyday up until the day she passed away.  She would try to speak to him but she wasn't able to be understood.  I can still remember my dad telling her he knew how frustrating it was because she knew she was speaking clearly.  He had a stroke in 1980 so knew exactly was she was going through.  But there was compassion.  I saw that he cared deeply about her regardless of anything that had happened over the years.  I want to be able to do that.  I know people critize my dad, but he was a wonderful man, he really was.

Man, let me tell you.  My Grandma, she was pretty cool.  Pop used to tell me stories about her spitting off the porch back in Arkansas.  And her and I got to share socks!  When I was a kid I got a whole package because they were too big for her I think.  I'd sit between her and Mom or Aunt Betty during Sunday evenening church and color.  I've even got a picture of her and Grandpa Franks in my wallet.  Becuase of all these stories and little things in our house my kids will know who their great great great grandma was and I'm glad. 

Megan will go to sleep and I'll cover her up with that old blanket and just smile.  She's got a hertiage.  It may not be exotic or fancy like her dad's but it's a hertiage, with lots of love, and really good looking women.  No but seriously, my cousins, all gorgeous.

Anywho... happy birthday Grandma Franks, and Merry Christmas to everyone else!

I Want to Hold Your Hand



Pop, Megan and I on her first Easter in 2009.

What a week.... some far too personal to post here. (Which says a lot since I'm fairly upfront about everything, too upfront)  But what I can post about that happened this week... My Dad's 83rd birthday.  Only, he wasn't here to celebrate it.  I won't lie, it was a difficult day.  I could hardly focus on my finals and was actually thankful for the crazy week because it kept me distracted.  But in all of that I forgot what birthdays are for.  They're for honoring the one born, and I believe that goes for after they've passed on as well.  So here goes:

My Dad was the best that anyone could ever ask for.  Care to know how many times he let me down? Twice.  The second was when he was in the hospital this last time.  He said he'd call our tax man for me when he got home.  Now, Pop never promised anything, he only said he'd do it.  That was worth more than a thousand promises.  But, we all know why he didn't call the taxman.  I think I knew he wouldn't be calling him, but I asked anyway because Pop always did what he said he'd do, maybe that'd give him what he needed to get out of that hospital.  It didn't work, but dang I tried.

But the first time he ever let me down...

He had just had some skin cancer removed from his hand the day or two before and still had the stitches from it.  I was probably about 4 or 5 and I was a goof.  Where the stitches were looked like a closed eye so I called it his sleepy eye.  Here we were a couple days later and he said we could walk up to the park and on our way out the door he shut the door on that hand and busted the stitches.  He had to go right to the doctor and we didn't make it to the park.  Obviously I totally understood, but I think he took it harder than I did.  It was probably the first time in his life he didn't follow through.  See, I quickly understood and just went on with life.  But for the rest of his life he'd always say, "That was the only time I didn't do what I said I'd do."  Whenever he said that I knew he would follow through with whatever he'd told me.  He used that story to prove himself and encourage me.  It's true, that was the only time he didn't do what he'd told me he would.

I remember sitting next to him in the ICU and holding that hand.  See I'm a freak and remember people's hand anyway, but especially his.  I saw the scar from his sleepy eye and was reminded of how faithful he was.  No one else has been so faithful to me.  He was a wonderful man and I'm so glad I get to say that he raised me.

Alright, Okay, You Win

A few weeks ago now someone told me something that I just haven't been able to shake. "Where are your kids? What would they think of you being here?"  I immediately got defensive and pulled my well used, "Between bedtime and breakfast is my time..." line.  But I haven't been able to shake it, why?  Because this fool was right.  I hate that.  But... he was right.

I was watching Megan today during church and she was putting on my sunglasses and picking up my keys and goes, "I Mommy!"  She's watching me like a hawk.  She knows every move I make.  Then I looked at her at lunch and was just so humbled that I was given such a perfect little girl to raise.

Megan and Bailey deserve so much more.

So, if I have to make sacrifices, I need to.  That's what parenting is.  If I'm lonely, I'm lonely.  If I'm home on a Saturday night, without any friends, so be it.  Sure I may only be gone after bedtime but that still has an effect on my parenting, it just does.  I need to straighten up and I don't have a single excuse that's good enough.  Yes, it's been a tough year and a half but no one's life is perfect.

I've been here before I literally sacrificed everything for my family and it didn't get me very far.  I was incredibly lonely.  Thankfully I had a few really close friends that came running when I needed them.  And I swore I would never lose so much of myself again because people need people and not just there family.  I had this mentality that I have a family now, no one else matters.  No, they do.  The right people, in the right proportion.  And I have no intention of ditching my friends in order to be a better parent, there has to be a balance, I've seen what an unbalanced life can become.

Being lonely was tough, but when it gets hard I always go back to the old song, "On Christ the solid rock I stand, all other ground is sinking sand."  Nothing's ever been more true.  I remember listening to this when Pop was in the hospital and just realizing, I have nothing else that I can cling to, nothing.  All other ground really is sinking sand, whatever that is for you.  Whether it's a drug addiction, a relationship, your job, it's all sinking sand. 

There's only one solid rock.  And that solid rock is the only way I'm not going to totally fail my little girls.

She Goes Down

There are a few things I have ALWAYS remembered my dad saying.  Some was absolutely crazy, some was just goofy and some was actually quite deep:

#1. The crazy. "Two things you should never talk about are politics and religion, especially since you're a girl." Ooops.  Don't worry me not listening isn't a post his death thing.  I didn't listen when he was alive either.  And let's not forget... he was wrong.  It's okay Pop, no one is perfect.  I'm only close.
#2. The goofy. "Don't smoke don't chew and don't go with the girls that do." Obviously, I had to switch this to "boys that do." And.. oops again. 
#3. "The young can and the old must." He was talking about death here.  It was his way of warning me that I wasn't garunteed to have him.  But, it's also helped me to not only realize that I'm not immortal but to also cope with losing someone that you just shouldn't because they're far too young.  

Notice how I didn't listen quite a bit?  So I guess Now that I'm the parent I catch myself saying things that fit in these same categories and thank God my girls probably won't listen to me either.

#1. The crazy. "Megan don't say sucks, I'd rather you say f*ck than that." Right, I have no idea what I was thinking here. NO IDEA. However, I really do not want her to say sucks, that's not an okay word to say.  So I end up having the, "Mommy is sorry Megan, those are both grown up words and I don't want you saying either."  Apologizing to a 2 year old is pretty humbling.  And I needed to.  No one call CPS, okay?  I meant well, I just failed, hard.
#2. The goofy. "Bailey, you're pretty like your mommy." "uh-huh!" "Only, you have bigger feet, maybe you'll be taller like your uncle. If you're pretty like your mommy but taller you're pretty much going to be unstoppable. (pause) You'll also be locked in the basement."  This might be goofy, but it's true.  And she will be locked in the basement.  I'm already coming to terms with prison when my girls are of dating age, you know, 40.  That's why I'm studying Pre-Law, I'll need to defend myself in court someday.  It's a reality. 

And here's #3, I want them to listen to me here though... I'll just be toning it down and keeping it PG as they get older and start to understand.  And yes, it fits in the other categories too, due to the fact that I tend to not have a filter anymore...

"Girls, it says a lot about a girl how much time she spends on her knees.  (pause, stop and think) And... what she's doing when she's on them." 

Okay okay, I have no filter.  Fail.  But... hear me out.  Unpack this for a minute.  

This is a true statement.  I was actually talking to them after we had finished praying (see, not a terrible parent, too terrible anyway).  So here you have two ends of the "on your knees" spectrum.  The first is obviously prayer, the time a girl spends praying his important.  And the the other end of the spectrum.  Put two and two together, you're adults figure it out.  Now, I know which end I want my daughters to be on.  Refer to statement #2 and my ultimate destination in prison.  

When Pop was in the hospital I remember kneeling at the end of the bed and praying about everything.  Hard.  I prayed hard.  I actually felt the most at peace and confident afterward.  It was so important that I do that, kneeling before the Lord really ended up giving me the strength I needed.  And in this instance it was absolutely crucial that I fell on my knees, I remember feeling foolish, but I just did it and I needed to.  The Lord strengthened me for what was about to happen.  All I could do was surrender totally and I knew it.  Some will argue, "hey I'm a 21st century girl I'm empowered to do whatever I want." True.  But keep in mind what you're so "free" to do will only result in you becoming a slave to it.  You'll still surrender totally, but what are you surrendering to?  Or who is the better question.  The whole situation has the potential to be totally degrading, and it probably will be. 

In high school, I remember being stopped after a See You At The Pole event by another student who said, "Wow, I didn't realize Annie could pray like that."  People will see in your life and maybe first hand if you are a person of prayer.  There's a woman at my church that I've known for a long, long time.  If you ever need anyone to pray for you, you call her.  She's an amazing woman and I have so much respect for her.  And I think that proves my point right there.  When a girl is on her knees for the right reasons she's respected and regarded well.  Do I really have to explain the other side here?  You can get acclaim on this side too.  You're going to wonder when the last guys co-worker asks you on a date if it's only to see if he's right though.  That's no way to go on a date.  Come on.  That's not acclaim, that's degrading.  Shop talk happens, don't be the subject willingly.  Just don't put yourself there.  You may not have bad things said about you directly but you aren't going to have what this woman at my church has, respect.  Can you really be proud of this?

See unpacked, you can tell I meant well and it's my goal to raise good people.  I hope that they remember this (the PG version) their whole lives though.  I want them to realize how important it is to surrender totally to the Lord.  I want them to have the kind of relationship with God that they know to get on their knees and pray about EVERYTHING.  

Most importantly here, I want to set the example for them because unless I do it myself, I won't have even a shot that they'll listen to what I say.

 

 Can we agree to never tell the kids some of the garbage I say now? Like, until I'm dead? Yeah?

Oh yeah, and I love the Family Circus. And, well, it seemed appropriate for today.

Leave a Tender Moment Alone

I received an e-mail yesterday asking for prayer for a friend's mom who was just admitted to the hospital.  I didn't have to read the whole sentence to know her condition.  I got as far as, "... with  Cong--"  That's all I had to read to know she had Congestive Heart Failure.  

Congestive Heart Failure

That's all I had to read to go right back to reading the paperwork from the nurses in Room 714 after a long morning.  See, I immediately read that e-mail and went back but then I quickly went back to the night before Scott's funeral and actually confronting what had happened with Pop, even with how I felt about seeing people I loved next to a casket.  I would've gladly buried my own dad a thousand times if it meant no one else had to do that.

But, being open and honest about that kind of stuff?  Wow, that was pretty big for me.  I don't really have many tender moments, I'm always exactly what I need to be, strong, even if everyone sees through it. 

What happened this night was, he caught me when I was more vulnerable, after a few drinks, the same day as a visitation.  I was far more willing to discuss than normal unfortunately, or maybe fortunately?  I think it was good for me. 

We were getting ready for bed, setting alarms, and talking about when we had to get up the next morning.  I told him I had to be home by 9 for a funeral.  He knew, my parents were no longer alive, but I hadn't brought it up.  I remember lying there in bed and then he asked me something that I really hadn't be asked before,
"What happened?  How'd your parents pass away?" 
"Well, mom had lung cancer, and-"
"Well, no your dad."
"Congestive Heart Failure," and then I explained the last couple weeks of my dad's life. 

I was completely open and honest about my father's death for the first time.  (including with myself)
And, he didn't say much, just listened?  Which was different, he didn't try to fix anything.  All he did was move his arm around me when I got real quiet.  In that instance, that's all I needed.  For the prior 5 months, that's all I needed.  I didn't need anyone to try to fix it, or make me feel better, all I needed was someone to just put their arm around me.  In that moment, I felt like it was less about Pop and more about me, like someone actually cared about me.  (Or, at least pretended to)  It didn't matter if it was real or not, I just needed someone to act like they were concerned. (I'm certainly not here arguing how "real" that was, I don't care. It helped, real or not.) 

What's crazy is how one question caused me to totally let my guard down.  One stinking question!  Man.

See, I don't think that would've happened with anyone else, because anyone else that had known me for a while would've known already and just not asked.  Everyone knew Pop wasn't in good health anyway.  Or with anyone else I had to have it all together, this person barely knew me it didn't matter if I had it together or not.  Even the same person in a different circumstance wouldn't have got my guard down.  It took basically a stranger to just ask one simple question to help me really come to grips and say everything out loud.   

That was a big step.  I learned it's okay to have a tender moment from time to time and to actually trust someone long enough to be open with them.  That's been a new lesson for me that I probably should have learned a LONG time ago.   Now the situation surrounding how I learned it, eh.  It is what it is.  But I learned something, so it works? 

I don't want to go back to keeping everything hidden and locked up, or even be afraid to trust a friend, because, "what if they hurt me?"  If they're human they will, but that doesn't mean I have to always be on guard.

AND....... because of all of that I was able to just pray for this woman.  I had already dealt with those words, so it didn't catch me totally off guard.


I'm awesome.  Now, please excuse the rambling. =)

Don't Cry Daddy

Disclaimer: This might get personal.

13 years ago today, I went to church for our Tuesday night meeting.  Lisa and her parents took me home because Momo and Pop were both there and weren't able to take me.  Momo wasn't doing well and hadn't been for the last few days.

We went home and I remember everyone packed in that small front bedroom to pray.  Afterward I went to work on my memory verses and I didn't go back until I heard people in there and even though I was 9, I knew what was happening.  I may not have realized it but I knew.  I peeked around the corner, and I'll never forget.  I immediately went back into the dining room to hide and cry, hopefully unnoticed.  I'm not sure how successful I was, that small house was filled with a big family. 

The next thing I remember was sitting on the couch curled up next to my Daddy when the paramedics came in.  They wanted me to leave but Pop told them I could stay.  He always stuck up for me, he was the best.  I'm so much like my mom, that the only thing I remember thinking was how her pajamas had been moved and she wouldn't like being uncovered like that when they brought her through.  Funny, how it honestly didn't matter, but again, I'm that much like my mom. 

Pop and I didn't go to the hospital together.  Aunt Betty and Uncle Marshall had just got back into town from Alabama and they took me.  Momo had asked that they bring her back some water from this spring they'd all been to the year or two before.  I was the one that ended up drinking that water, she never got it.  I'll never forget looking at the clock in their van, it said 9:00. 

We get to the hospital and I got to go back to where my parents were.  I went into that room and saw the monitor hooked up and I remember seeing the line barely wiggle and I had this hope and then I felt Pop's hand and I don't know if it was him or the doctor that must have seen the look on my face, but one of them explained that for a while afterward a person's heart would still beat a bit. 

The next thing I know Pop, Aunt Betty and Uncle Marshall are in the small family room there and I remember running in there and sitting on Pop's lap again, I didn't like being apart from him.  I don't remember why I was running in there crying but years later Pop told me that someone had told me out in the waiting room that I wasn't going to be able to live with him anymore, he never told me who said that.  Which was a good thing for whoever thought that was an appropriate thing to say considering the timing.  I heard a lot of that nonsense over the next year.   

Pop and I made it home and I remember falling asleep in her recliner and waking up and overhearing people in the kitchen talking and I realized it was real.  That had really just happened.  And then... there was ham.  So. Much. Ham.

In the months and years afterward my focus was on holding it together and staying strong for Pop, so he wouldn't worry about me.  He missed her so much.  She was the love of his life.  I always felt like I wasn't enough, and I wasn't, but I tried.  We had our ups and downs learning how to live without Mom.  Pop always said he wished he would've paid more attention to her while she cooked.  I wish he would've!  No joke, our diet for probably the next year was soup, ramen noodles, and grilled cheese sandwiches.  And then there was the time I was supposed to do the laundry....
"Pop, how do I set the washer?"
"I don't know, isn't that just bred into you?"
He was serious.  Yeah.. that happened.  We ended up figuring it out together after fighting for a while.  Ha.  But the point here is that we helped each other through the very first life changing event of my life.  I kept him going and it's become increasingly clear these last almost 8 months that he kept me going as well.

She was the love of our lives. (Which is sort of why "A Little Less Conversation" is only my second favorite Elvis song, second only to Don't Cry Daddy)

So, the plan for the day?  Go buy flowers, school, workshop, hangout with a friend, and most importantly KEEP BUSY.  I'm not sure exactly what to do without Pop here, I don't have to call and try to distract him or encourage him this year.  He missed her more than I ever could.  Losing her was hard, losing him is a thousand times harder.

You've Got a Friend

An offended friend is harder to win back than a fortified city.   Arguments separate friends like a gate locked with bars. (19)

There are "friends" who destroy each other, but a real friend sticks closer than a brother. (24)

Proverbs 18

I'm glad that the Bible includes passages about friendship, it's an important human relationship.  It's difficult to survive without healthy friendships.  

This is Kristen. I would've failed Chemistry,
and died a long time ago if it wasn't for her.
I love her.

Saturday night I remember looking at Katie and just saying, "I feel like I don't have a single real friend."  It was emotions talking because I always have Kristen.  Always.  She's the only constant left in my life to be perfectly honest.  She doesn't care what, "Oh my God I'm going to hell.." story I'm bringing her, she still loves me and doesn't judge.  She's awesome.  I'm not even sure we've ever had a fight.  We're too awesome for that.  But she's not in the Quad Cities anymore.  And I've been kind of distracted and haven't paid as much attention to her life even, as I should have.  So what I told Katie was actually correct.  I feel like I don't have any real friends sometimes.  

Now, recently I've had some close friends that I feel like if I breath wrong I'm offending, that I'm not taking fault for.  One shouldn't be so easily offended to begin with.  And if I had a dollar for every time I was called a bad friend or was "dead to" them and really didn't know what I did, I wouldn't need a job.  I love them though, and consider them to be good friends.  I just don't let it bother me and we get it sorted out pretty quickly.  Everything's fine. 

But, there have been times that I have been the offender.  It typically involves alcohol.  Don't all awesome decisions though.  Or even maybe not offensive, but maybe just not a good enough friend.  Maybe just not as invested in their lives as I should be. 

The point I'm trying to make is that, if I want a decent friend, I need to be one.  It's true I will do absolutely anything for anyone if I'm able and they need me to do it.  That's just who I am.  And thankfully I'm also the type that can see when they're wrong and apologize.  That being said, I still blow it and have a lot of room for improvement in being a good friend, hell a good person!

If I want a real friend, I need to focus on being one and hopefully the favor gets returned, but even if it doesn't I'll still know I tried my best to be a friend that "sticks closer than a brother" and built another person up just to encourage them, not to get anything in return.  I'd imagine that's a good way to have a real friend.