Sitting in Sambo's

My family was an average middle class white family, and probably the only thing that made it remarkable was the fact that there were so many of us. Our family reunions involved so many branches of the family, and so many people in each branch, that we had to wear color coded t shirts, name tags, or both. Renewing old relationships were always fun during these times together. We usually rented or reserved an entire park for the affair. No one really had a house big enough to host them. 

My dad was a mid westerner, and family was pretty much all that mattered to him. He didn't aspire after riches, he was kind of a jack of all trades, and not afraid to try anything. He earned his degree in the school of hard knocks, and the skills he picked up along the way served him well. He wasn't perfect, but he was a good guy and well liked. 

As I got into my teen years, I spent a lot of time trying to keep up with my dad. He functioned on very little sleep, as he had a full time job that was probably 10 hours a day, and he also did "side work" at the kitchen table long into the night. We didn't live extravagantly, and in fact it amazed me when I found one of his old pay stubs and found that he had been supporting a family of 5 on $160 dollars a week. We didn't have government assistance in those days, and I don't think he would have taken it even if it was available. 

He worked hard and took care of not only us, but often his mom and other family members as well when they needed it. My gramma had been widowed when dad was 14, and he never had anything but sweetness for her. His dad would have been proud to see the man his son became and the way he treated others. 

I often accompanied my dad when he went out for coffee in the evening. He was a total diner guy. You know that kind of place that when you walk in, you immediately smell like grease and cigarette smoke? His favorite place near our house was a Sambo's. They eventually became politically incorrect and were absorbed into another larger company, I think. But it was just a diner kind of place with simple food that served breakfast and bottomless coffee 24 hours a day. 

One night I remember sitting in Sambo's with him and watching a car pull into the parking lot. Dad's back was to the lot, but I could see clearly out the window. And as the car pulled into the spot next to the building, with it's headlights shining in my eyes, he didn't bother to hit the brakes and proceeded to drive into the restaurant. As I finished exclaiming "holy crap", the window shattered and the first booth ended up in the second booth space. 

Thankfully, the car wasn't travelling too fast, so it stopped shortly after it entered the building. I'm sure my eyes were bugging out as I watched it happen. Dad just turned around, watched the dust settle for a  minute or so, gathered that no one was hurt, and then turned back around to face his coffee cup. All he said was "Humph", shook his head and began to laugh. The king of one liners had nothin'. 

I never learned to like coffee. Or cigarettes. And I'm kind of glad, because I'm pretty frugal. Coffee and cigs are just too expensive. Yeah, I know.......... not good for you, second hand smoke, blah blah blah.......... and I agree. But it was the cash that kept me clean. 

That phrase should be on a t-shirt. "It's the cash that keeps me clean" We could wear them to the family re-unions. 

There is nothing better for a man 

than to eat and drink, 

and tell himself that his labor is good. 

This also I have seen that it is from the hand of God. Ecc. 2:24

Sambo's interior

The "Fodge"

I went on a camping trip with my family when I was about 11. It was ................. interesting. Dad was so excited about the trip. He bought the tent, Coleman stove, lantern, sleeping bags for the whole family and the other various and sundry items needed for a successful camping trip. 

We actually caravaned part of the way with my Aunt Polly and Uncle Bill and their 3 kids. Two of their children were boys, and Aunt Polly's weapon of choice to maintain order in the station wagon was a fly swatter. This was in the 60's, so we pretty much went anywhere we wanted in the car, whether it was moving or not, so driving behind them was quite entertaining. Every 3 minutes, Aunt Polly was whacking on one of the boys with the fly swatter as they tried to escape over the seats. Full out, wind up for a home run swing swatting them. It was hilarious to watch through their back window. 

We were in our own car, packed to the gills and hoping for the best from this new adventure. I was sandwiched in the back seat with my two brothers while my parents held down the fort in front. It was a little more peaceful in our car, but not by much. We were of the "stop looking at me!" "that's MY window!" "mom, she's touching me!" "stop breathing my air!" crowd. Regularly, mom would turn around to yell over the verbal jousting. But when she focused her ire on a specific child, the others would hide their laughter behind their hands and point at the one who was getting it. Most of the time, we managed to do it without her seeing us, and compounded the agony of the one being scolded.

The camping trip turned out to be one from H-E-double hockey sticks. We nearly washed away when we camped by a creek in Utah, nearly blew away in the Badlands, and nearly froze no matter where we put down stakes. My brother snored, and one night I layed awake in my sleeping bag completely terrified all night because I was sure there was a bear outside the tent. 

My other brother felt any stress pretty acutely, and he really struggled with his stomach. I couldn't blame him. It was not a fun time. When the tent nearly blew away, and we had absolutely no light on a moonless night, we ended up in a cheap motel. Not sure if that was any better.

Anyway, the camping bug never really left my dad. He decided some type of camper would be a better way to go, so he and his brothers built one. He picked up a truck that was half dodge, and half Ford. I can't remember which half was which, but I do remember the conversations that centered around what it should be called. He ended up deciding that "Fodge" was the way to go. 

The truck was an old one and so the gypsy camper he built for it was the perfect choice. It had a curved roof and a cute door in the back, and my mother was mortified. It was NOT her idea of a camper. But dad was so happy, and I was pretty impressed by what he and his  brothers were able to turn out. I don't think he was ever able to finish the inside before being pressured to "get rid of that thing." He did hold on to the truck for quite awhile, though. 

I wish I had a picture. But maybe your mental images are pretty good. I haven't been camping since the early years of our marriage. And it was a lot of fun. Must be because we left the flyswatter at home.

Each of us is to please his neighbor for his good,

to his edification. Rom. 15:2

Being "Okay" / True Contentment

I've been musing a lot, lately, about what it really means to be content. Being okay with the now, not clawing for more, accepting your situation............ But the more I percolate on it, I'm finding that true contentment is so much more than just that surface  "being okay". 

I looked it up after really turning it over in my mind for a while and found phrases like "mental and emotional satisfaction with things as they are; peace of mind." You can see the whole shebang here. But that's still not it. There's an element of contentment that's missing even in the most complete dictionary.

The more I meditate on what it REALLY means to be content, I find that it goes beyond your feelings today. It's not happiness, because that's a fairly empty emotional response to an outside event. A baby can be truly happy because you made a goofy face and pointed it in his direction, but 2 seconds later, that same baby is crying. So happiness isn't what makes one content. 

Conversely a person can be truly content, but laughter is the last thing on their mind. So, here's what I came up with for contentment:

True contentment is NOT just embracing today's condition and being satisfied with it. Too often embracing today is just a stepping stone to a better tomorrow. We exist on the presupposition that tomorrow, or next week, or next year things will improve according to our definition of improvement. 

True contentment IS embracing our present condition and being truly satisfied to stay in our present state FOREVER. No matter what our present state may be, if we're truly content, we aren't looking at today as a bridge to better. We're thankful for wherever we might be and are okay with staying there. 

Easy to say on a healthy sunny day. But when sickness or want creeps in, can we still be that kind of content? 

The thesaurus uses words such as "complacency, ease, fulfillment, gratification, pleasure, and satisfaction" as synonyms for contentment. But some of those are WAY off base. The only word that I found that completely embraces what it means to be content is "peace". To be at peace, this way, forever.  Oh, to be truly CONTENT.

The Lord bless you and keep you;

The Lord make His face to shine upon you,

And be gracious to you;

The Lord lift up His countenance upon you,

And give you peace.

Num. 6:24-26

Smack Your Mama

I grew up riding my bike to the beach.  In fact, my high school had both, a snow ski team, and a surfing team. We were that perfectly located. My brother was big on surfing, so I spent a lot of time at the beach with him. Burning. Really bad. Sometimes at Bolsa Chica, sometimes at Newport, sometimes at the Wedge, but the burns were always the same.

Remember Coppertone? Coconut oil? Baby oil? Laying on the hot sand for hours during those years before the invention of SPF? I can't tell you how many times I came home and begged to be slathered up with Noxema to cool the burn, only to go back to it a couple of days later. That was when SoCal girls were natural, and freckle faced, and the only highlights were the ones that the sun put there. There are precious few of those girls left.

Every summer I got several second degree burns, complete with oozing blisters and record setting peels.  My nose was in a continual state of flake. I guess sticking out there like it does, it tended to be perpetually burned. And I wore glasses, so they kind of reflected the sun.

Have I ever told you just how unattractive I was? Like SERIOUSLY unattractive. I was a true SoCal girl.......... natural and freckle faced, but my look was complicated by other things, like, really bad glasses, and really bad teeth. A really bad cowlick, and a catholic school uniform that included a beanie. Got the picture? No worries, I'll post one later.

I was "Smack your Mama" ugly. Some things are so good, or so bad, they actually  make you want to smack your mama. Like really great chocolate cake makes you want to smack your mama. A perfect day at the beach makes you want to smack your mama. And I guess looking at me when I was a child made you want to smack MY mama! I know, we all had those awkward days. Sure..................

But my favorite thing about those days at the beach was the gourmet food. Strapped to the back of my ten speed was a big towel, the obligatory oil, a tube of chocolate chip cookie dough and a big soft drink bottle. Bliss. On a good day, I might even get some nacho's at the snack shack. Those were the makings of a smack your mama good day.

I don't look anything like I did as a child. In fact, I wasn't even out of high school 15  years when people I knew well had no idea who I was. I'm ok with that. Thanks to my dad, I got my teeth fixed, and I still wear glasses, but at least they don't meow, if you know what I mean. I don't have freckles anymore. I think the years of treating the acne got rid of them. Yeah, that was a whole other chapter in my smack your mama  years.

As for man, his days are like grass;

As a flower of the field, so he flourishes.

When the wind has passed over it, it is no more,

And its place acknowledges it no longer.

But the loving kindness of the Lord is from 

everlasting to everlasting 

on those who fear Him,

And His righteousness to the children's children,

To those who keep His covenant

And remember His precepts to do them.

Ps. 103:15-18

Uncle Chenia Named My Dog

I come from a LARGE extended family. I stopped counting at 31 first cousins, and haven’t even tried to keep up with subsequent generations. So, as I’m sure you can imagine, the names in this brood run the gamut. The family fav’s are ‘Norman’ and ‘Mary.’ They’ve been used for several generations, and our forerunners gave the names substance and meaning. They were, and are, strong and respectable people. Someday, I’ll dazzle you with the breadth, length, and depth of our family tree.

Our family has always been a fairly traditional lot, and have never been ones to make up names. That’s not to say that there was no appreciation for the unusual though, hence, the name “Chenia.”

The story goes that the first Chenia’s mother gave birth, opened the Bible, and the first place her finger fell was on this particular name. I did some searching recently, and only found the name once in an obscure translation. That exercise resulted in some good natured teasing from my cousin David that amounted to “Who in their right mind would actually research something like that!?” My cousin Mary summed it up perfectly. "Fanny Jane had just given birth, at home, in 1869! Cut her some slack!!" That left subsequent generations to make up a good story about it. We’re a long line of story tellers, and like nothing better than to edit and exaggerate to make it tell better!

In any case, the first Chenia in our family, had the middle initial A. and he put the name on the map. Several Chenia’s have followed and proudly carried the name. (We pronounce it ‘Chee-Nee’. Just so you’ll know…..) And I hope it’ll be used again in future generations, because I loved my own uncle Chenia, and would love to see the legacy continue.

So…….. what does all this have to do with naming my dog? Was it named ‘Chenia?’ Of course not! The dog was a female! Giving gender specific names to opposite gender dogs didn’t start until several years later for me. I was only 17 and hadn’t really found my groove as yet.

I purchased this particular dog with my own money, and no input from siblings or parents. (Much to my parents chagrin, I’m sure!) I arrived at my folks front door with a cute black puppy that I’m fairly certain was possessed. Her favorite thing to do was tear from one end of the dark colored couch to the other, in a room lit only by an old TV, all the while growling and barking.  All you could see were white teeth, and a little bit of the whites of her eyes. What do you name a dog like that? My dad regularly called her ‘Beelzebub.’ Somehow, I didn’t think that was quite right for her.

So, I loaded her in my ’67 Chevy and took a drive out to my Uncle Chenia’s shop. His business involved a lot of metal and grease. I’m not totally sure what he produced, but his shop was fascinating. I knew my dad was there, so it seemed like a good place to be that afternoon. Plus, said puppy had doodied in my pink bedroom slipper in the back seat of the car so I needed to do a bit of cleaning and deodorizing. Then Chenia saw the puppy, and asked her name.

I was trying desperately to come up with an appropriate name for her. She was black, with a fluffy curly coat. ‘Blackie?’ ‘Fluffy?’ Ummmmm, no. Nothing fit. And then Chenia came up with ‘Ebony.’ Perfect!  In fact, when I bought her, she shared a cage with her brother that was her negative image and completely white. If I could just get back to the pet store before her brother was sold, ‘Ebony and Ivory’ would be awesome! But alas the parentals put their collective feet down. And so, ‘Ebony’ it was.

I don’t know why I bothered, though. Our pets have NEVER been called by their given names. Our favorite nickname for her ended up being ‘Fling.’ No. I won’t tell you why.

But I will tell you she was an amazing dog. She grew to be about 25 pounds but had the heart of a St. Bernard and the courage of a Doberman. Her favorite thing to do was chase things. And her favorite thing to chase was frog jerky. Did you know that when frogs sit on the sidewalk and don’t move as it heats up they turn into jerky? Frog jerk was easy to find so we didn’t have to carry a ball with us when we walked her. Perhaps we should start a new line of pet treats……………….. 

 But it is just as the Scriptures say, 

"What God has planned 

for people who love Him 

is more than eyes have seen 

or ears have heard. 

It has never even entered our minds!" 

1 Cor. 2:9

I Love Friday's! 10 on 10

Every Friday, I get to spend the day with some

 pretty special people. 

It's the highlight of my week!

Future Architect?

It's feeling a little sleepy in here

"I've got you.............. under my thumb............."

Lunch!

What a face!!

Lovin' the power tools!

Good day to stay in

A gift from a sweet friend.

These now have a new home!!

Perfect end to a really great day.

Come, you children; listen to me; 

I will teach you the fear of the Lord.

Ps. 34:11

Joining "A bit of Sunshine's" 10 on 10 project.

How the Garden Grows

I love working in the yard at this time of year. 

This is just a little taste of the fruit of our labors.

SUCH a great pay off after months of snow!

I thought for SURE this one would freak out the Littles, but I don't think they've even noticed!

My dad's sundial

But as for me, the nearness of God is my good; I have made the Lord God my refuge, 

that I may tell of all Your works.

Ps. 73:28

The Other Side

Mother's Day is just around the corner. Just a few years ago, a groundswell of emotion surrounding the 'holiday' began and this year is no different. Those hurt by childlessness want Mothers Day to pass a little more quietly. Or, quite frankly, not be recognized at all. I understand the heartache of year after year of infertility because I've traveled that road. I understand the soul shattering, life stopping feelings of losing children, because I've traveled that road too. 

But I received a letter yesterday and want to share an excerpt. This young woman included the article she was responding to, and very eloquently hit the nail right on the head in identifying the two things that control our grief and make it so destructive. Selfishness and bitterness. At my lowest points, I felt both of those, and am now honest enough to admit it. 

I appreciated her take on the matter, and thought you might too. 

"I will not apologize for being a mother. I will not bow my head and allow my place as a mother to be given a back seat in order to be politically correct. Motherhood is a sacred calling. It IS something to be celebrated, something to be thankful for, and something to be recognized. If you don't like it - I'm really sorry.

This article (included with the letter) has quite a bit of selfishness and bitterness in it. I know what it's like to sit in the pew, not married and childless, and wonder when it will be your turn. I spent last mother's day with a loved one who is unable to have children. I have experienced the pain of losing a baby before they are born... more than once. I cannot even imagine losing a child after having the privilege of raising them for a time. But, the reasons we allow  ourselves to be upset because mothers are being recognized are selfish. We're too busy wallowing in our own bitterness and resentment. Have you taken time to think of your own mother? Thank your mother? Do you truly know what mother's day is to a mom?

Mother's day is not a day when mom's expect to receive diamonds, exquisite praise, or a new car. It's a day when we hope to go to the bathroom by ourselves, sleep in a little, get a break from cooking lunch or doing dishes, and get sweet cards from our kids.

I am blessed with awesome kids. My boys, age 2 and 4, are very thankful children. When I give them a cookie or a drink, they say thank you. But, let's face it. Motherhood is a "thankless" job. My 2 year old doesn't hop up after I've changed my 6th poopy diaper of the day (not exaggerating - I have 3 in diapers) and say "thank you, mommy, for wiping my poopy butt! I know you don't like to do it, but I greatly appreciate it!" I spend a lot of time wiping bottoms, cleaning up, dressing, wiping noses, putting in time-out, breaking up fights, teaching to be kind, hugging, loving, and praying that I'm helping my children to learn to be like Christ. I've been pooped on, puked on, coughed on, sneezed on, peed on. I have sacrificed sleep, time, friendships, my job, and my body for my children. I am THRILLED to have the opportunity to do all the said things, but there are days that it would just be really nice to hear a thank you. Motherhood is a sacred calling - the highest calling there is. I have to keep my eye on the prize.

Having a special day, where my family says thank you, helps me keep my eyes on what matters. It doesn't matter how little sleep I've had in the past 5 years, it doesn't matter that I have no clue what's in style, that I have stretch marks, or that my boobs have belonged to my children for years. Nope. It doesn't matter because I am blessed. My kids love me, my husband loves me, and they make me feel so special that day. I am lucky to be their mom.

This is my job, so it's just a day when I celebrate my job. You have boss's day, administrative assistant day, and even cow appreciation day. I don't get upset when I don't get recognized because that's not a day that applies to me. But, when it comes to the most sacred of callings, we need to try to not offend anyone and just not acknowledge it because someone might feel sorry for themselves? Nope. Don't think so.

I don't love standing in church when they ask mothers to stand because I feel totally self conscious, but, I shouldn't NOT want to stand because others are upset by it. I AM a mother. I AM proud of that. I'm sorry you're not a mother, that you lost a child, that you cannot have children, and you lost your mother, but I can only pray that the Lord can soothe that hurt for you. Not celebrating this special day will not soothe that hurt, it just makes it easier for you.

So, this mother's day, I will happily take the special card my children scribble for me, take an extra hug and a kiss, and enjoy my break from dishes. I do not feel bad, and I will not be made to feel like the enemy because I rejoice in my role as a mother."

Honor your father and mother 

(which is the first commandment with a promise), 

so that it may be well with you, 

and that you may live long on the earth.

Eph. 6:2-3

Real Food

"Pie, Pie, Me oh my, 

Nothing tastes sweet, wet, salty and dry

All at once so well as pie

Apple! Pumpkin! Minced and wet bottom.

I'll come to your place everyday if you've got em'

Pie. Me oh my, I love pie!"

Did you know these are the lyrics from an actual song? Disturbing. Why would anyone write a song about pie? I actually did an Internet search and found several listings for songs about chocolate cake. Now THAT makes sense!! Cake, cookies...... those are worthwhile, Real Food. But pie? No. not so much. 

We used to belong to a church that often chose pie as the main dish for any social get together. So the first time we went to one, I expected to see lots of different desserts, so I put together one of my favorites and brought it. It went completely untouched. NO ONE had any. Which was OK, because it was one of my favorites and I didn't mind taking it home.

But when they said "Pie Social", these people meant business!! The tables were covered with all kinds of pie with my pitiful little NOT pie hanging out in the nether regions of the land of desserts. Honestly, I was tempted to pick up my entire dessert and a fork and sit in the middle of the room to enjoy it. I think my handsome half is very glad that most times I don't do what I'm tempted to do.

You see, I don't like pie. Perhaps it's because I didn't grow up in a traditional holiday celebrating family with turkey and trimmings dinners complete with pie and whipped cream desserts. (I don't like whipped cream either. That one's for free. You're welcome.) We usually had grilled steak, or lasagna for Thanksgiving, and never had pie. I think my dad liked it, but mom didn't and she didn't really love to cook, so on rare occasions we got Mrs. Smith's 'home made' pies, but more often than not, dessert consisted of something else. Like cake, or cookies. Real food. 

I'm pretty sure there won't be any pie in heaven. There are no references to pie in the Bible. 'Cake' is in there a BUNCH of times. The only way 'pie' is in the Bible is as  part of the word 'piece'. And we all know that doesn't count. No wonder cake tastes so heavenly!! Especially chocolate. 

A local deli has a cake that's SEVEN LAYERS of chocolate goodness. Yeah, baby. It's on my bucket list. Pie is anemic  looking and even 'mile high pies' pale in comparison to this chocolate cake sky scraper. Pies have things like fruit and squash in them. But there is not one thing of redeeming value in chocolate cake. It's Real Food. 

I'm a little hungry. And I have a stash of Ding Dong's in the kitchen calling my name. They're little baby chocolate cakes. So, we'll just call them hors d' oeuvres.

When you've stuffed yourself, you refuse dessert; 

when you're starved, you could eat a horse.

Prov. 27:7 (Msg)

Eugene Price

I grew up in a part of the country that was outdoor playing weather 360 days of the year. We went out early and stayed out until the street lights came on. We drank from the hose……….. No, it’s not just something cute on facebook, we really DID drink from the hose. And there’s something really special about the taste of water that’s passed through a garden hose. I also lived with perpetual stubbed toes because I never wore shoes. My toes finally cleared up when I got a job and was required to wear shoes to work. No. I didn’t grow up in West Virginia.

I was raised in an era where you spent most of the time playing outside with the neighbor kids and all of us walked or rode our bikes to school together without a second thought. “Go out and play” didn’t mean go play in the fenced back yard. It meant go out pretty much wherever you wanted to go and play. You knew mom would yell for you when she needed you.

I had 3 pretty good friends in our neighborhood. Carol, Sandy, and Mona.  Interesting that I spent a lot of time playing with them, but I don’t remember us playing much as a group. Maybe because Mona was a couple of years younger. But she was an “only”, and I really liked her. We did a lot of fun stuff together. The first time I ever saw snow was with Mona. Her dad had a dichondra lawn and my favorite thing was to pull the tops off the stalks in strips to make roads through the grass for the matchbox cars. Mona’s dad was NOT a happy man when we had been playing cars on his front lawn!

I had two brothers, too. My older brother was nicknamed “Mingy” and the younger “Buns”. Mingy grew up to be called “Emperor Ming”, and also picked up other names along the way. “Squats to pee” was my favorite. Anyway, Ming’s favorite thing to do was to tease the neighborhood boys. He always had a creative way of finding their weak spot and tormenting them with it. And so we come to Eugene.

Eugene was my friend Carol’s older brother. They didn’t have nicknames in their family. And Eugene was a little bit quirky. I remember he would spit a lot when he talked. That’s really about all I recall about him personally, but I’ll never forget what Ming used to do to him.

You see, Eugene had a very weak stomach. If you said the word “barf”, he would. And so he became a target occasionally for my brother. I’ll never forget the day when Ming spit on the sidewalk and Eugene promptly threw up.  Yep. Ming spit again with the same result. And I’m pretty sure that summer, Eugene lost a lot of weight.

Eugene and Ming were actually friends. I guess friendship is just a little twisted when you’re 11. I often wonder what happened to Eugene. His family moved away when we were still kids. Perhaps they had an inclination that Ming would eventually become “Squats to Pee” and got out while they still could. 

A friend loves at all times, and a brother is born for adversity.

Prov. 17:17

 

Other Pursuits 

Wisdom

Wisdom - not getting yourself into situations

where you need wisdom.

By wisdom a house is built,

And by understanding it is established.

Proverbs 24:3