He's leaving on a jet plane

Well, not really, just in his white Ford truck, but he might as well be, he's just as gone! I still can't get used to my baby growing up, I wonder if I ever will. In my mother's day card he wrote " I will always be your baby, and I will always be there to care for, comfort, and love you forever and ever" Something in me knows he will, but the tearing away is so hard. He was home from college for just three weeks, and now he is off to play in some semi....semi.... pro baseball team in Atlanta (not quite sure how many semi's go there). he will be back for our family vacation late in the summer before he has to go back to school to start his junior year, yes people, you heard me right, his junior year of college. I am still not believing he will be a junior!!!!



Only old people have kids who are Juniors in college.

Juniors in college only have one more year until they're Seniors,

and then they become grown ups,

and get real jobs,

and their own homes,

and their own families even,

and then they go on their own vacations and when they say they are going home, they don't mean your home, but some other home that isn't where you are,
with their own stuff,
and their own cat,
and their own furniture,
and their own neighbors,.....

and

and

and
hopefully they make you proud.

I already miss my baby.

A day to go down in history

Write it down in the history books people, something monumental has happened in the life of my oldest son, that has never been done before in his whole 20 year life.

He has beaten his Father.

They have been playing together for twenty years, tennis, basketball, swimming, chess, we could go on and on, but with the exception of maybe ping pong, my brute husband has always prevailed........but times have changed my friends, and roles are beginning to reverse, and although I don't think he is quite ready for the wheelchair, there is a tiny chink in his otherwise flawless armour.

Dakota was the victor on the golf course today, and came home sunburn and beaming with pride. His father gave him the proper kudos,

smiled for the camera,

and then swiftly wrestled all six foot one and 200 lbs. of college flesh to the floor...

no problem.

Thank You!!!

so............... tooling around downtown Charleston today, enjoying my little female people, looking at art, eating Spoleto Geleto, balancing on very old brick walls, singing itsey bitsey spider, making wishes in fountains littered with pennies, walking A LOT, seeing really old monuments, and horse drawn carriages, being really thankful that the Lord has brought us to a very cool city, and remembering, because that is what is on my mind this weekend, all the men and women who have given much, so that we can all enjoy these things. Thank you to them all!!!!



Have a memorable memorial day, and pick up the phone and call the veteran, or service man/woman in your life, and thank them from the bottom of your heart.

really grand niece

This sweet little one came to visit recently with my niece and her husband. Does that make me a great aunt? That sounds soooo old. Why does everything sound so old lately? anyway, They are the sweetest little family, and soo much fun! My girls adored having little Ruby around, and although I think we all were a bit overwhelming to her, overall I think she loved us too! It was so fun to "catch up with" her mommy Hannah, who really sometimes seems like more of a sister to me. The "boys" loved having her husband Jason to play with, and we were all so glad they came. I hate how life gets busy sometimes, and you don't get to spend it with the people you love most. Thanks for the visit Hannah and Jason, and bring that little sweety back for another visit real soon!

a poem from Grandma Cliff

Sweet Crockett

Our Crockie boy went home today

Where he can run and jump and play.

He couldn't play when he was here

Just couldn't get those legs in gear.

But he could do some other stuff

If you would watch him close enough.

Sometimes the angels told him jokes

He'd crack up just like other folks.

Or fold his arms and cross his legs

And sit there like some wise old sage.

When he was in his rarest form

He really could kick up a storm.

When family time would get real loud

He'd jump right in and join the crowd.

He'd laugh and squeal and make some noise

And act just like the other boys

And when the family went to town

He loved to just be dragged around.

If you would rub his head a bit

A great big grin is what you'd get.

His hands were always warm to touch

we loved our Crockett very much.

We picture him on Jesus' knee

A far greater place to be.

We felt he knew us Gramp and me

And we just cannot wait to see

Him run to us with that big grin

When he sees us and we see him.

thanks Mom

and thank you both for loving him like you did

Sunday Stress

Sundays are the hardest. they were the hardest when Crockett was with us, and they are the hardest now.


Sundays are stressful.... I think if you are a church goer, and you have children, you can most likely relate.


With Crockett, sometimes the Sunday stress brought me to tears. There was a long stretch of time, about 5 years, when we could almost guarantee that he would throw-up once he was dressed, usually when he got to the car. We never figured out why, maybe it was the bath he had had, or the excitement in the air that he was part of something we were all doing, or maybe just satan trying to thwart our Sunday morning efforts to be with God's people.

Or, perhaps God was just teaching me to be thankful!

Often the boys were blamed because they had carried him out to the car, and perhaps they had been too rough or gone too quickly? We would often vent our frustrations of the situation on them, I am certain it was never their fault. It happened no matter who carried him, regardless of how gently or quickly. When he grew out of the throw-up stage (sorta) he learned a new trick. He could soak through an entire outfit and not leave a drop on his diaper. This phenomenon was most often accomplished on Sundays as well, and if he didn't perform before we left, he most certainly would have by the time we picked him up from his class.



I was usually the one to be left behind to clean him up, and change him, because for three of those years Michael taught an adult bible fellowship class. It was not fun to clean up rancid curdled Pediasure in a dress and heels on a three foot long infant who found the whole predicament nothing short of hilarious. I often missed the kids performing in choirs and programs or just the normalcy of bringing the girls to their classes and chatting with their teachers. There were so many times that i cried out to God and told him it was just too much, couldn't he just give me a break? I would strip Crockett down, and wash him up. I often had to iron a new pair of pants, then redress him. After carrying him out to the car and drying my tears I would finally pull into the church. The handicapped parking would often be full ( It became a joke with our family that when ever it rained the handicaps would come to church!!!). We would drive out to the back forty and I would get Crockie's chair out of the back end, hoist him out of the car seat that I had just buckled him into moments before, now lined with towels, so as not to soil his "new" outfit, and strap him into his wheels. We would hike to the children's wing, and Crockie would shriek with joy at the adventure of it all. Struggling with my bible, and purse, and the wheel chair, I would pray that we wouldn't be too late, and that people would not notice that I had been crying. I would paste on my happy christian Sunday face, and we would proceed down the never ending corridor, usually full of healthy children saying goodbye to reticent parents with kisses all around. There were the usual "Good mornings", "how are yous" and the occasional quick look aways so as not to have to acknowledge the kid in the wheel chair, but only occasionally. We would make our way through the maze of children to whatever class was deemed the right fit in that particular "season", usually determined by which teacher was not scared away by the word seizure or the sporadic outburst Crockett might have during class. When i finally made it into the sanctuary, sweat soaked and emotionally spent, still the smile was there, sorta, and i held my head high and made my way to my family. Usually on those days that were the hardest, you know, coinciding with a particular time of month, we would sing as a congregation the song "Thank you". That song always brought me right back into alignment with my savior Jesus. I couldn't sing that song without an extremely grateful heart for all he had done for me, and all he had given me. My mind would be flooded with thankfulness in the midst of my circumstances.



God is good like that isn't he, right in the midst of the pain reminding us of his promises, and pulling us right out of the muck and mire of our earthly circumstances, and into the glorious refreshment of the knowledge that all is well as he carries us through.

For all that You've done, I will thank You

For all that You're going to do

For all that you've promised and all that You are

Is all that has carried me through

Jesus I thank You

And I thank You

Thank You Lord

And I thank You

Thank You Lord

Thank You for loving and setting me free

Thank You for giving your life just for me

How I thank You

Jesus, I thank You

I gratefully thank You

And I thank you

Church is a place where we always were, together. Now one of us is missing.

Sundays are stressful, now for different reasons.

I never thought I would miss urine and throw-up. But I do and oh how grateful I am now that I had them for as long as I did.

Oh give thanks to the Lord, call upon His name;

Make known his deeds among the peoples.

Sing to Him, sing praises to Him;

Speak of all his wonders.

Glory in His holy name;

Let the heart of those who seek the Lord be glad.

Seek the Lord and his strength;

Seek His face continually.

1 Chronicles 16:8-11

What are you thankful for today?