Gracefully Frank

I recently mentioned in a previous blog the time that I was the first one to dive off the high dive, and then never willing to do it again. I was probably in the 2nd or 3rd grade when I was enrolled in swimming lessons with my babysitter’s kids. The lessons were at Wentz Pool. (If you aren’t from Ponca, it’s an interesting google.) We’d learned to dog paddle. Learned to float. Learned to jump in off the low diving boards with our legs tucked and holding our nose, or not, depending on personal preference. I was a nose holder. It came to be time to try the high dive. I ran to the front of the line with my red, white and blue American flag-esque halter swimsuit. It was a cousin-hand-me-down with tie straps that had let me down during one lesson as I came up for a dead man’s float and found them floating alongside me instead of tied around my neck. Awesome. I don’t know if I had mullet yet, but that is about the same time, and in my mind the story is more humbling if topped with a mullet. Did I mention I was also a head taller than anyone else my age? Those were good years for me. Not awkward at all. Sometimes I’m still that kid.

So I climbed the ladder to the top diving board. All guts and glory. And I jumped. I survived! Cheers! Other kids got in line, as I swam to the side of the pool and decided I never wanted to do that again. Ever. “Haley get in line and do it again.” Nope. I had rustled up and gathered courage, but burned out quickly. I knew I could do it, but then didn’t want to press my luck. I needed sustaining courage. Guess where I’m going with this…

I am still in need of sustaining courage. I think I could muster up through adrenaline and grit, the courage to do almost anything I find a worthy cause. If I see the value I’m in…at first, but my knees tend to get weak later down the road. “Walk away from it all and follow You to Texas of all places?” I’m in. I can’t claim I was first in line that time…but I got in line. Then I got done with school and wanted/had anticipated I would go right back to Oklahoma (swim back to the side of the pool with wobbly knees). I was praying for God to make His will clear to me though; that I wanted His will not mine. “Lord if You tell me to jump off the high dive, and it’s not just my own dumb idea, make it clear to me.” I was talking to two places about employment. One in Oklahoma = with family and friends. One in Texas = Not. I slid the business card for the HR Manager of the place I am now employed here in Texas into my bible after my first interview. Later, as I was praying over the two opportunities and beginning to have a slight sinking feeling like Texas was fixin' to be home...I randomly opened my bible to the page where her card was and here is the verse my eyes fell on: “If they had been thinking of that land from which they had gone out, they would have had opportunity to return. But as it is, they desire a better country, that is, a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared for them a city.” Hebrews 11:15-16. I could go back to Oklahoma if that is where my heart was, but I longed for someplace better that has nothing to do with Texas or even my family. I laid down and cried my eyes out. I’m not dramatic. Not because I at that point realized I was not going back to family and friends for that time being, which was then confirmed by the opportunity in Oklahoma not materializing, but I cried because God was again answering my prayer for clarity and courage. He was my confidence in this decision (Proverbs 3:26). He was leading me. The relief and peace and joy that these were His plans were again confirmed through His Word. I could say “coincidence,” but I will never again explain Him away. I will always choose to believe, because He does some pretty amazing things when I do. By faith I would follow Him, and in His faithfulness He makes His plans known to me. He keeps teaching me to not lean on my own understanding, certainly quit telling him what I don’t want to do, to be still, and to be brave; waiting on Him to make his path for me clear. Not because of who I am, or for my purposes; but because of who He is, for His purposes that He created me for (Ephesians 2:10). Be Still. That’s always been a hard one for me. Sometimes I just want to be normal. Sometimes I just want to go home. But, more than either of those, I just want to be faithful.

What I wanted to write about when I sat down here was the upcoming trip to India. I’m going in November. I got in line first thing, and I am now fighting wanting to swim to the side. I don’t know if this is how it works with all people who are called out to do this, but I am certainly struggling with “am I really able to do this?” “Who am I to do this?” “I should just hand the Hope For The Heart materials to them, and then sit at their feet. I should certainly never open my mouth.” I struggle with wanting to be brave, beyond my own strength. India feels a lot like a high dive, and I am unprepared, and yet here is what I read yesterday: “‘Ah, Sovereign Lord,’ I said, ‘I do not know how to speak; I am only a child.’ But the LORD said to me, ‘Do not say, ‘I am only a child.’ You must go to everyone I send you to and say whatever I command you. Do not be afraid of them, for I am with you and will rescue you,’ declares the LORD. Then the LORD reached out his hand and touched my mouth and said to me, ‘Now, I have put my words in your mouth. See, today I appoint you over nations and kingdoms to uproot and tear down, to destroy and overthrow, to build and to plant.’ (Jeremiah 1:6-10)’ When Jeremiah voices his hesitation and fear, God–the God of the galaxies–reaches out and touches his mouth. It’s a gentle and affectionate gesture, something a loving parent would do. Through this illustration I realized that I don’t have to worry about not meeting His expectations. God will ensure my success in accordance with His plan, not mine.“ – Francis Chan in the book Crazy Love. Oh how I want to be faithful and brave beyond my self-centered insecurity. Ugh. I wish this would just click for me.

As of now I’m going alone. I would counsel someone that the truth is they are not alone. That the Lord himself goes before me and will be with me; he will never leave me nor forsake me. I don’t have to be afraid, I shouldn’t be discouraged (Deuteronomy 31:8) but, sometimes I talk too much. That scripture is absolutely the truth, and in God's time he will commit it to my heart as I let him.

So for now would you pray for me? I will share more about this trip and the many ways God has confirmed it in a future post, but for now would you pray for me even just once after you read this, as I am feeling a little bit like I’m in an American flag halter swimsuit with a mullet climbing a ladder that I probably have no business climbing. Would you pray that God would allow someone to travel with me? Maybe that is you? And would you read about Rev. Dr. Christopher David and his wife Hepzi. They are the wonderful servants of the Lord whom I will serve with in India. They have an abandon to God that I pray for, and a ministry I am honored to share with you. They've given me the ok to share their ministry letters.

Thank you for your prayers for me, for this trip, and for these people Jesus wants to know of His love and freedom not only in death, but also in life. Thank you for reading what is sometimes uncomfortable to be gracefully frank about. Thank You, Lord, for the sustaining courage that comes only from You, and the joy and peace that truly passes understanding that follows that courage. Thank You for high dives. Thank You for this ministry I work for, filled with people who have surrendered their lives to bring God's word to the hurting and his hope to the hopeless; and for letting me be a part of it. And thank you, mom, dad and my babysitter, that there are no pictures to share from my swim lessons at Wentz Pool.

Here is a good song I've been known to play on repeat: Brave - by Nichole Nordeman

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I can find my comfort zone anywhere. I’m in Destin, Florida. In a Starbucks. Listening to Bonnie Raitt. Drinking coffee. Sitting still for a minute. Giving thanks for a bit. Reflecting on this time. Enjoying this moment.

You may wonder why I’m at Starbucks instead of the beach? I have been at the beach; and I loved it. I mean I loooovvveed it. But, Irish white girls from Oklahoma don't build a base tan in 4 days, and will burn wherever sunscreen is not applied...which for me was my back. Uh, it is red. It hasn't stopped me from anything, but today it helped me decide to forego another beach day and have an antiquing, souvenir shopping day. It's amazing the fun you can have, when you don't care what kind of fun you have no matter where you are. “Be free.”

I have repeated "the answer is yes," multiple times this week. Why not just go with the flow? I’ve been thinking through the difference between my actual preferences, and what I am just used to/familiar with, and I’m finding I really have a LOT fewer preferences than I think I’ve always thought I had, and a lot more of what should be considered just what I’m used to. This revelation is freeing me up to have fewer opinions – don’t be shocked, and don’t get me wrong: I do still have opinions…I am just making sure they are reserved for when it counts; and it counts a lot less often about a lot more things. But, when it counts…hold still. :) I’m enjoying thinking familiarity doesn’t have to mean preference, so I’m changing up my responses a little. The answer is yes. If you get that, then good. If not, let’s just move on because I have still had to say “no” to a few things this week, as I have the kind of friends who will try to push some boundaries to challenge me when I think I’ve come up with some new theory of living.

The answer is "No" when the question is:

1) Do you want to do any activity that requires you to be in a harness? - No. Always no.

2) Would you want us to bury you in the sand? – No.

3) Do you want Shrimp and Grits? – No.

4) Do you want to be resuscitated if you get the flesh eating bacteria after playing in the ocean? – No.

Make your wishes known friends.

Here are some other things I’ve realized on this trip:

- When On Vacation At The Ocean

1) Put sunscreen everywhere. There is no harm in superfluous sunscreen application. You may end up applying aloe to the middle of your back with a Williams-Sonoma spatula if you are not thorough. I’m not naming any names, but I need a new spatula.

2) If you see a seashell you want, grab it right away. As soon as the tide comes in again it will be gone. Then you will only have the memory of it, instead of being able to hold it in your hand. Grab the seashell! If only there were a metaphorical life lesson in there somewhere.

3) It is almost impossible (I say almost, because it may be that just I can’t do this) to take footprint-in-the-sand pictures before the tide comes and washes the imprint of your foot away. I’m sure I looked a bit like a moron as I would take a few steps in sand wet enough to hold the print well, right after the tide washed out, and then flip around really fast to try and capture the image before the water washed it away again…multiple times. I was using my travelling alias, had on a big hat and sunglasses, no one knew it was me, so no harm. I don’t really like any pictures I got, but maybe He thought it was funny. He’s carried me always, but I’ve been really aware of it this past year. It’s been one to remember. Romans 5.

4) If you take a boat cruise that says you will wade in the ocean to find seashells in knee deep water, don’t believe them. You will be in your cute new white skirt up to your hips in seaweedy-hermit crab infested- ocean water. After returning to the boat, a little bit disheveled at having said “yes” to that adventure you may find yourself telling the kid next to you (after his dad reminds him again to sit down instead of stand on the bench where he is seconds away from falling overboard in swelling waves) “that means butt on the bench kid.” I even snapped and pointed as I said it. He minded me. In my mind I can hear Red or Blondie either one saying “Haley Lougene if I have to tell you again….” That is the tone of voice I had. Sadly, they usually had to tell me again. I would just get excited and forget. Like that kid standing on the bench.

5) I didn’t see a lot of restrooms at the beach. I’m pretty sure people are peeing in the water. That’s not a pretty-is-as-pretty-does thing to say, but Lady Birds are straight shooters. We like to “Real Talk.” Just know what you're getting into. Apparantly its okay.

- Get Fun Friends and Work to Keep Them

Do you need to go out of your way a bit? Do you need to forgive sometimes? Do you need to talk on the phone when you aren't much of a phone talker? Figure out who your true friends are and work to keep them. Should you go on vacation with them? The answer is yes, even if vacation is just a dinner out, or a dinner in. Make the effort. Friends are worth it. Especially those you love. Don’t put spending time with them off. Drive the miles. Sleep on the air mattress. Book the flight.  Here is what I found when I got off the plane:

I love those seashells.

I also got off the plane and saw an old friend from Ponca, she had noticed the signs with my big head on them. Hard to miss. It was so fun to run into her and see her pretty little daughters. P.S. I love Ponca! I hope Brandi and her family enjoyed their vacation!

Some pics from Florida:

Every state should be near the ocean, but Oklahoma has the Thunder so it kind of evens out.

PS...I came home to my new apartment in Plano after this vacation. I can’t even say enough how grateful I am to Kenny and Sara who came down from Oklahoma to move me. I LOVE THEM! They helped finish painting, moved me, and put together my new bookshelves. Before they left that day my new place was already a home. I’m kind of giddy happy to have my things about me. (Imagine the scene in The Quiet Man with John Wayne and Maureen O’Hara where she explains to him she just wants her things about her. Me too. Now I do. :) Please pray for Kenny and Sara this week as they will fly to Addis Ababa, Ethiopia to meet their baby girl. Seriously, that is happening. She is beautiful, and I can hardly wait to snuggle with her. Wish I were going with them.

PSS…If you haven’t seen The Quiet Man, you should. Maybe you would like to come to Plano to see me and we can watch it together. I have a new place where a couple of walls are painted Evening Stroll (a beautiful blue), and my things are about me. If you are reading this, it is likely some of my things remind me of you: pictures, vacation reminders (glass alligator, my refrigerator magnets, etc), theology books, my Pioneer Woman statue, my Mamie quilt. All out of boxes. They aren’t my Treasure, they aren’t my memories, but they are reminders of all I’m thankful for. You can even stay with with me.

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Saturday I bought beach nail polish. The kind of bright color that says, these toes are going to the beach. The kind of color that should be worn with flip-flops and be a little covered with sand. Not the kind of color that should be worn with neutral tone heels into a counseling session. Friday morning when I woke up I had no idea I would be going to the beach in a couple of weeks. When a couple of Lady Birds had originally asked me I pretty quickly decided that was something I couldn’t do. But, suddenly on Friday, I decided I could. I’m deciding I can a lot more often lately. Go ahead and ask me to do something. The answer is yes (within reason). Should I buy a couch off of Craigslist for $40, without being totally sure it will fit in my new apartment? Yes. Because I did, and I’m not. I know. I’m edgy. So I’m going to Florida. I don’t need to go to the beach, but it delights me to do so. I want to walk on the sand, I want to pick up seashells. I want to read a book. I want to get in the water. I want to eat seafood with friends even though I don’t really like it. I want to do something I don’t need to do, but just want to. One of my favorite friends lives in Destin. Why would I not go? It’s dumb not to. So, Friday I bought my ticket, and Saturday I bought beach nail polish. I think sometimes my reasonability, or striving to be responsible is actually probably a little more about being fearful (there I said it). Maybe I try to protect myself instead of trusting God to protect me? He surprises, delights and proves me wrong all the time. So I’m going to roll with it. Trusting people has been a recurring problem for me. I kind of reserve trust for proof (insert assumptions here), so trusting Him sometimes gets caught in that crossfire. But, I’m shaking it off a little and going to Florida.

Oh and hey I’m also going to India. Like on-the-other-side-of-the-planet-Earth India. I give an inch and He takes a mile. :) India is further away from Oklahoma than Ethiopia, Florida or Texas. This is starting to get interesting. Be really careful when you tell God what you don’t want to do, BUT that you surrender all. He will change your heart, (probably even give you a new one), and you will find yourself in the most surprising places, and have whole new perspectives on places you’ve been a million times. Thankfully, He isn’t confined by my self-confirmed rational insecurities that I pass off as being reasonable. His plans will not be thwarted. Get on board, or not. I’m on board. I’m not sure you could get any further out of my comfort zone than India. (I probably shouldn’t say that either or my next blog might be titled “Live From Iraq.”) I try to act like I’m all grown up, but I don’t feel much different than I ever have to tell the truth, and who am I? Bossy Haley, B student, too loud, procrastinator, the first one in line to jump off the high dive, but then too scared to ever do it again (true story). I’m always kind of floored when things come together, and I kind of feel like I’m winging it most of the time. I know I get a real serious look on my face and may point my finger as if I know exactly what I’m doing. I don’t. And I certainly quit thinking I knew what I was doing the day I committed to move to Fort Worth. I decided then to put me in His hands, and to know nothing but Christ and Him crucified, and to follow Him wherever, however, whenever. A lot less predictable, a lot less explainable, a lot less rational in my own understanding, “but he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me.” 2 Corinthians 12:9…again.

His Word keeps spurring me on. So, grossly inadequate and comically unsure, but with a growing love for those who have come to know Jesus as their Savior, but are undiscipled with lives that don’t reflect the joy and peace of a growing relationship with Jesus Christ, (just like I once was), I am going to India. How many times have we looked at the life of a Christian with condemnation because they continued to struggle with sin we think they should be over. I’m so thankful for the professors I had at Southwestern (Jones, Floyd, McGuire, Moitinho, Wicker) who taught me to meet a man where he is, where she is hurting, and instead of using the Word to condemn them, be used by God to show them how His Word sets them free. I continue to learn everyday where God has led me to work and serve. Our sin condemns us. His Word sets us free. Instead of slaughtering the sheep, Christ told us to feed them if we love him. If they don’t know that Jesus loves them, they are going to know that I do. And when they wonder why I do, I will be able to tell them because He does. Jesus does.

The last beach I visited was on the shore of the Sea of Galilee.
The beach where John 21:15-19 took place.

I will save the details of how this trip came to be for another day. For now, let me just say, God is faithful, He is alive and active and He has plans. Seven or eight months ago, when it was on my heart to begin saving for a trip, this is what God was planning. I thought it would be to go back to somewhere I've already been. I said yes, before I knew the proposal. But he's leading to a whole new place. So in partnership with the ministry I work for, in November I will have the humbling opportunity to talk with believers in India to...as the Hope For The Heart mission statement says: Provide Bible-based counsel to renew minds, heal hearts, and bring hope to the hurting, while empowering Christians to disciple others.

Empowered Christians, with complete patience, loving one-another, sharing the Truth so that we may be free from the hurts and chains that bind us and conformed to the image of His Son.

“For this reason I remind you to fan into flame the gift of God, which is in you through the laying on of my hands, for God gave us a spirit not of fear but of power and love and self-control. Therefore do not be ashamed of the testimony about our Lord…who saved us and called us to a holy calling, not because of our works but because of his own purpose and grace, which he gave us in Christ Jesus before the ages began…” 2 Timothy 1:8-9

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I have been storytelling on this blog for almost a year. It's my favorite toy. It's my testimony. It's one way I try to share how God's grace comes through in my life. It's a canvas I love to decorate. It’s the…I can’t think of any other cheesy metaphors to put here. Well, actually, I can. But, I’ll stop anyway.

I write today sitting in a big gazebo. The kind you see in old movies in the middle of a town square. The wind and the nearby train whistle are blowing, like the American and Texas flags over my head...and my hair in my face. I just walked through Georgia’s Farmer’s Market where I will buy produce for my table and geraniums for my balconette, when I move to this neighborhood in June. I just signed the lease and am already enjoying the neighborhood.

I don’t know how long I will live here, but as of yesterday, I know when I will live here. Like Ponca City, Edmond, Stillwater, Tulsa, Barnsdall, Fort Worth, and Carrollton…Plano will soon be a town where I once lived. It is the first place that I have chosen to live since leaving Tulsa. Even though Ladybird Manor ended up being one of my favorite places ever, I didn’t go into it by choice, but by necessity. Where I live now has been safe and comfortable, but by necessity. I'm surprised at how much joy this move is giving me and its still two months away. It's also only a 4 minute drive to work, which means no more anger management moments on the highway! I’ve been looking here for over a year just waiting for the timing to be right, and it seems as though it is. Philippians 4:19

This moment of serenity was just interrupted by a little boy who got too adventurous, apparently crossed a boundary his mom had set, and suffered the consequence about 6 feet from me. Live and learn little guy. His wild eyed smile was worth my being interrupted. I kind of have a wild eyed smile right now too…but, this is not an adventurous escape like he just tried to commit. I have had my share of those, and suffered the same consequence as him. This is another adventure in faith that continually leaves me being Surprised By Joy; which is the name of a book by C.S. Lewis I picked up yesterday at Barnes & Noble before dinner at Cheesecake Factory with a friend. What a lovely weekend.

I’ve started working on something else aside from this blog, and if you are reading this, I would love your input. I am asking for you to share a story with me this time. I am really interested in examining our motivations for doing life. The people, places, things we build our life around. In my life I have had all sorts of motivations. Some have meant good for me, and some have meant not good for me. Maybe that is the same for you? I also know sometimes I haven’t even stopped to consider my motivation, and I just set off for the goal. Why did I even have that goal? We just barrel through, sometimes confidently, sometimes flailing. In examining our motivations we may find the inspiration to make a change; or we may find the confirmation to be still. No two stories, no two motivations are the same.

So, I’m doing a little research, and maybe this blog will be a catalyst to gather some motivations stories. A little different take on the usual “motivational” stories we like to share. Personal experiences and stories are how we learn.

Professionally, I am a counselor now which means I have actually been trained in confidentiality. It’s not a superpower, but it is a promise. I may tell my own stories as frankly as even I am sometimes uncomfortable to share them, but I would not share yours in the same way. The project I'm working on is not for this blog. If you are so gracious to share a story with me, that would mean you are ok with me using it. And you understand that I would change parts of it for the sake of it being confidential.

So, what motivates you? Maybe you would want to write about one of the following:

What/Who is the biggest influence in your life?

What event/time did you witness that changed you forever?

How did the family you grew up in impact who you are today?

How does your family today impact who you are?

Why do you work where you work?

Why do you worship who you worship?

Why do you serve who you serve?

What makes you get out of bed in the morning?

What makes you not want to get out of bed in the morning?

What do you regret?

What do you hope for?

If you think you might be willing to share your story of what motivates you please write a few sentences, a paragraph, a page or a chapter. Maybe this will be a testimony you will be able to share with others. Share with me as little or as much as you would like. It may be a sad story; a happy story; a story in progress. A story of faith, or a story not of faith. There is no right or wrong story to share, or way to share it. There is also no time limit for sharing your story. I had some time to write today, it was a gift. You may have had a gift that would have prevented you from writing today, or tomorrow. No rush. If in a month you have a minute to sit still and think about this...send it to me then. Even if you have connected with my blog through a friend and you and I haven't met, I would like to hear from you.

It doesn't hurt to ask, right? E-mail to haleyscully@yahoo.com. If you know of others who might be willing to share their stories, would you consider sharing this blog with them by reposting it on your facebook, or e-mailing them the link?

I'm thankful to share, blessed that you read, and hoping you may consider sharing with me.

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So, I have a birthday coming up this week. It will be the 36th one. I know some people don't like to share their age, but I would rather just be frank. Here is the question I am pondering as this birthday approaches: Am I winding down or am I just beginning? It takes me a minute to think through that. I could tell you that because of my relationship with the Lord I am 100% confident and and at peace with both the number three, and the number six being required to write out my age. But, if you are one of the handful of those I let behind the curtain closest to my heart…you know that isn’t always the case. There are circumstances in my life that, on certain days, leave me feeling like I am more on the winding down end of things than feeling like things are just beginning. A 36th birthday could be one of those days. If I’m not honest about that, I may as well hush. I probably won’t write about those things in my blog though. As I’ve said before…some things should probably stay behind the curtain.

(Pausing to gently pull back the curtain: Things you may see might be different, but you may still be able to relate - Sometimes when I look to the right or to the left and I see friends with homes and kids and husbands, pictures from their family vacation, or their babies first birthdays, I can find it a little more difficult to breathe. I can get a little panicky. 36? I’m left behind! I did something wrong! I’m winding down and I missed it. What if…? I should have….? I shouldn’t have….? If only I would have….? I know from talking with others this can happen whether you are married or not. When I look for the value of my life only in how my circumstances measure up to my expectations…36 can feel old. Especially if my expectations of life are limited to being a wife, mother, or President of the United States (I haven't even run for a county office yet). So it makes sense that if that is what I think life is all about, and that is not my life, I get nervous. Think about it kind of like the following Einstein quote which I had heard before, but saw again this week on a friend’s facebook: “Everyone is a genius. But, if you judge a fish on its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing it is stupid.” My life has purpose, but if I judge my life based only on "my ability to climb a tree"… Get it? Ok, gently close the curtain back.)

So, I am left with things just beginning…36 feels like a good time to just begin some things, and a few things are brewing as God continually surprises me. Wherever He leads... Although, things are always just beginning no matter which birthday we are celebrating. Ask my Grandma who last week sold the house she has lived in for over 40 years. She's just beginning what God has planned for her next. Beginnings happen every day. Jeremiah 29: 11-14. The last few years me and God have been working through tearing some things down. Ending some things. Some idols. Some expectations. Some things that separated me from Him. I’m not trying to imply that there is nothing left to tear down, but it is time to start rebuilding. To everything there is a season. He has led me to step out in faith away from things for a long time…and now He seems to be leading me to step toward some things in faith. I let go, now I can lay hold.

Last Friday, two of my best friends, Tiffany (friend since 1st grade) and Sara (friend since college) came to spend the weekend with me. We booked a $39 a night hotel room at the Double Tree through Priceline. Score. We were in our pajamas by 9:30, but were hours away from sleep. Saturday morning we drove to the new neighborhood where I am hoping to move in the next few months. It may only be a 13 month lease I’m signing, but it is another start of a root here in Texas. One of my professors in Fort Worth once told me he moved to Texas for three years…20 years ago. That might be me, too. I'm ok with it. I even like it. If God moves me tomorrow though, I'm ok with that, too. I'll put the roots down, and I will let Him dig them up as necessary.

We began with breakfast at Dixie’s Barn and Grill in Old Downtown Plano. The eggs were cold, but the atmosphere on a rainy Saturday was just what I needed for this weekend. Exposed brick walls, coffee, couples, friends and families talking over breakfast. We shopped the cute stores, we dug through some antiques, we laughed, we talked about the things we will only talk about with each other (some curtains are sewn shut), and we took deep breaths. I am such a fan of deep breathing. I guess that is because I have taken a lot of shallow breaths in my time. I took my camera along. I can't buy everything I like to look at. I hope there is never a law that you buy what you photograph. Here are some glimpses into our day:

Einstein, again.

After having discussed our confusion over the young people who stand in front of a bathroom mirror and take pictures of themselves to share on Facebook...we tried to take a picture of ourselves in a mirror. Maybe we don't take pictures of ourselves in the bathroom, because we don't know how. This was our first try. Fail.

Second try. We still can't do it.

Wow. That way.

In between shops, smiles and calling for the score of Seth's first soccer game of the year. Seth and his sister Kallie will be getting a new baby brother or sister this year who is being born in Ethiopia.

Hope is worth nine points.

A little smart mouthing in a pretty frame.

Dusty. Old. Wood. Brick. I can smell this picture, and I like it.

This was a good beginning to a birthday week. We ended Saturday with an evening painting class after pizza at Urban Crust. Sunday was lunch, then a couple of hours sitting on the floor reading books in an aisle at Barnes & Noble trying to use our inside voices. This weekend the three of us discovered again that year after year there are no curtains between us. Over training can cause shin splints. Laughing is easy to initiate. Chicken poop makes a garden grow. It's good to pause. Fish don't have to climb trees, and some can't paint either.

A parting picture from our antiquing adventure:

I love the old friends with whom we can always share our new beginnings.

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The story I remember is that she had an uncle who thought Authula Maud Shannon was too big a name for a little baby girl. So he started calling her Toots, and it stuck. Way later in life she became my Granny whose bowl I used today while cooking. As usual that got me thinking of her, and as of late, it's usual that leads to writing. She would set this same bowl down for me when she needed my help to tear up the lettuce for the green salad, stir gently the pea salad, or whatever light duty cooking she could give me to help prepare “dinner,” which at her house was the noon meal. I have one of her aprons, some of her bowls, and thousands of memories sitting in her kitchen watching her cook. She was a good cook. But, long before she became a cook anyone would write about, long before I ever called her Granny, she had a whole other life. Surprisingly enough she wasn’t born the day I was. She wasn’t just a Grandma waiting for us grandkids.

She was born to Roy and Bobbie Hope Shannon in May of 1927. A beautiful little red head, with all the cliche connotations being a red head brings. By age three she was stricken with polio that would change the way she walked forever, but would not change her beauty or her feistiness. At age 10 she moved into a children’s hospital where she lived for almost a year being treated with numerous other children who had been afflicted. Her mother was very pregnant when at age 11,Toots left the hospital with an autograph book signed by all of her friends, to return to her family. Within a few weeks her mom Bobbie died while giving birth to another feisty baby girl, Cynthia, who would be raised by Bobbie’s sister Tom. (Yes, Tom was a girl). Bobbie also left behind her husband Roy, and children: Jim, Toots, Bob, Dudley, Patsy, and John Perry. It hurts to imagine the heartbreak my Granny must have felt when she lost her mother. But, the Shannon’s are a resilient bunch.

Aunt Billie, Bobbie and Tom's sister, said Granny was probably about 14 here. This is my favorite picture of her.

By 12, Toots had lived with a few different family members, including her beloved Aunt Maud. By 14, Toots was working as a nurse’s assistant in Henryetta, OK and living in a nurse boarding house, making a living for herself. She had some stories to tell. I’m sure as her granddaughter I didn’t get to hear all of them, but some of the highlights she would share. Like the time she slapped the face of the head nurse for lying about her. Toots was Irish, red-headed, grew up with brothers, was toughened by overcoming being crippled by polio, and she didn’t put up with no head-nurse mouthin’ about her. She would still get a look of satisfaction on her face when she retold the story even in her 70’s. She never did regret slapping that woman.

One day, around age 16, Toots and a girlfriend were walking down Main Street in Henryetta when a car pulled up with her friend’s boyfriend in the passenger seat. The driver of the car was Johnnie Cloyse Scully. What a moment that was. I don’t know how it all works, but a flat tire a mile back keeping Johnnie and his friend from Main Street that day, and I maybe wouldn’t be typing this today…something tells me he would have found her though. She’d seen him before. He was just recently back from Detroit where he and his father had gone to find work. Johnnie leaned out the window and said “Hey Red, I’m gonna marry you.” She said, “Oh, no you’re not,” and she “kept right on walking.” But, he did.

Toots and John

John and Toots

When Toots married John she got another chance at having a mother in Bertha Sloan Scully. I’m sure Bobbie would have been pleased. Some of my Granny Toots’ bowls that I have, are actually Grandma Bert’s bowls. Bert taught Toots how to cook; how to keep house; how to be a Mrs. Scully. Toots referred to Bert as “Mom” when telling stories of their time in life together. There are recipes and child rearing secrets the two of them shared and perfected. Meatloaf. A pot of beans and cornbread. Biscuits and gravy. Fried chicken. Hot cakes. Dressing, that I will perfect someday, but certainly haven’t so far. Strawberry cake, blackberry cobbler, coconut cream pie. Some of the favorites from Toots’ table that probably came from Bertie’s.

Young Toots

Young Bertie

John and Toots had three boys: Jim, Tim and Tom. Keep it simple. Toots was fiercely protective of her sons, and lived each day caring for them and making a home for her family. Their home, their achievements, their families are the fruits of her life. She enjoyed whatever we were into, and liked to hear all about it. We knew she loved us. You could read her thoughts on her face pretty easily. It lit up everytime we slid open that sliding glass door and heard her yell "Come in here!"

It is a rare day that passes without some thought of her. Having a few of her dishes (including little juice glasses that used to be jars of jelly), her wedding ring, a few of her recipes, her laugh in my head, her mad look (usually reserved for dogs in the yard or George W. Bush) ingrained in my memory keeps her fresh in my thoughts, and I am thankful for it. She was funny. She was proud. She believed whatever “they” said on TV. Her favorite shows were Young and the Restless and Walker Texas Ranger. She said many times she wished she could have been a bank robber. She kind of meant it. (Her Grandma Hope’s house, or at least her barn, was a hideout for Pretty Boy Floyd who married into our family) Granny was a big Chicago Bulls fan. She liked watching Michael Jordan play. She held grudges. She worked hard. When we cleaned out her house there were 19 pads on her ironing board. I bet 30 years worth. Best ironing board ever. Her favorite nicknames for anyone and everyone were “Mr. Butts” and “George.” She liked to mix her salad dressings, and did not pay any attention to expiration dates on items in the refrigerator. The rims of her glasses were rose tinted, and she signed her name "Mrs. John C. Scully." When he passed away she wore his wedding ring on a necklace around her neck. She chewed Extra brand gum, and didn’t care if you saw her without her teeth at bedtime. Depending on the time of day she smelled like Jergen’s lotion, Oil of Olay, or White Shoulders perfume. She subscribed to Reader’s Digest. She pin rolled her hair her whole life. She had a fear of drowning that generally kept her out of the water, but didn’t keep her out of the baptismal when my cousin Shannon and I had the opportunity to stand by her as she decided the Lord was telling her it was time to be baptized. She knew Christ as her Savior, but wanted to honor him in that way as the bible directs before her church. She did not like to be in anyone’s attention, she did not like being in the water, but she loved the Lord and relied heavily on his promises; especially after Pa passed away. I’m sure I didn’t understand how difficult, or how precious that baptism day was to her. I’m so thankful to have shared it with her.

All of us who loved her have our own stories of our special relationship with her. She and I used to go to Wal-Mart after she moved into a nursing home. She was in a wheelchair by then. As we wheeled around the store she would eat a McDonald’s vanilla ice cream cone and small order of French fries. She liked to dip her fries into the ice cream and comment on cute babies and women she thought could have tried a little harder to look their best even at Wal-Mart as we gathered whatever was on her short list. Oh my word we had fun and laughed a lot. She was a good Granny, who had a whole life before she and I were friends. I'm grateful she shared some of the stories with me. Her young life was marked by a close family she loved, but also tragedies; her adult life was marked by the security and love in the home and family she had with Pa. They both made her tough, and they both made her sweet.

It is impossible to do her life justice in a few words, but hopefully they honor her…and hopefully, whatever I stir up in her dishes won't insult her legacy either. Today, it was Italian meatballs. She would have pronounced them as EYE-talian meatballs and would have certainly changed the recipe to her own liking or to whatever ingredients she had. Most the time that worked for her, but one year we got water chestnuts in our Thankgiving dressing. She was a good cook, but not everything worked every time…so, I guess that leaves a little room for grace for me. At least I have the right bowls for the job.