Of Opposites and Attractions

We deal with opposites a lot around my house. I’m the only female, so we have a lot of girl versus boy things. I do a quite a few things I never thought I would simply because the boys want to. Then again, Logan has to do quite a few things he would prefer not to because I, the Mom, have decreed it shall be so.

Making beds and washing dishes and sweeping floors falls into the category of things Logan would like to not do. Baiting my own hook is one of those things I would prefer not to do.

Both of my guys, my husband and my son, tower over me. Because I am just barely over five feet tall, they are the ones that reach up to the highest cabinets or the top of the closets or get things down from the top shelf at the grocery store. Logan’s shoe size is almost double what mine is.

When I drive, I scoot my seat all the way up. When they drive, they scoot the seat almost all the way back. We are opposites. Big versus little, short versus tall. Male versus female.

We have the most fun watching the opposites that make up the rest of our family; our two dogs. Chance is a ten pound fur ball, a small energy laden Pomeranian. Jake is a 75 pound German Shepherd, a great big hard headed dork.

Chance thinks he is biggest. He barks first at any perceived threat, runs to the door first, and backs down last. He steals Jake’s toys, Jake’s food, Jake’s bones. He then runs under the bed with his treasures, where giant Jake can’t get. He gets up on his back legs so he can be taller when he is fighting with Jake, using his itty bitty paws to swat at Jake’s giant face. Jake doesn’t even notice that Chance is fighting with him.

Jake thinks he weighs ten pounds. He watches Chance jump up in our laps, and he tries to. It doesn’t work quite as well for Jake. He watches Chance run under the bed or behind the couch, and wants to. Instead, he smacks into the furniture and then looks confused.

When Jake runs, dishes rattle. When Jake jumps, pictures fall. When Jake decides to fight back, one giant paw swipe at Chance can knock Chance completely over. That’s okay, though, because Chance can run under Jake and hide. Jake can’t find Chance then.

I think Chance is one of the smartest dogs in the universe, and though we were told German Shepherd’s were smart, so far I’m very skeptical. Jake is still a puppy, so that may be it. Or perhaps we just had the luck to get a dog with concrete for brains. Gary is convinced he will be a good dog, someday. I’m wondering, as I have been for six months, if someday will ever come.
Until it does, at least we are having fun.

We play, laugh, cut up, tickle, giggle, be silly, and just generally don’t take things too seriously around here. With four males (two human, two canines) I am overwhelmingly outnumbered. But that’s okay. I’ve learned from Chance that small can be mighty.

Spreading His Wings

I understand why parents of teenagers get gray hair so fast. Logan, who just turned 14, has started to drive. That would be enough, right? That should be enough stress for anyone.

Not, apparently, for us. Now the child wants to learn to fly. He isn’t kidding. And, in true Logan fashion, he researched the issue and presented us with all the facts and figures when he asked.

Is it even legal? Probable? Possible? Logical? Sigh. Yes. It is. I’m still making peace with the fact that 14 year-olds are on the road. Now I find out they are in the sky, too. That ought to be enough to scare all of us.

It should scare me, too, but it doesn’t. We have discovered a truly excellent program. It’s going to teach Logan to fly. And it’s going to teach him a whole lot more. He’s going to learn about honor. Respect. Discipline. Ethics. Integrity. Service. Leadership. Character.

Logan has joined the Civil Air Patrol. If you aren’t familiar with this program, you should be. I had heard of them, but forgot they existed until Logan asked to join. Now, I am on a mission to tell as many people as possible.

It’s not only for kids, adults can join too. Logan is in the Cadet program, which is for kids starting at age 12. He is going to learn about flying and aviation history; but he is also going to learn how to help others. In fact, the Civil Air Patrol handles 90 percent of inland search and rescue missions. They have been there during 9/11; Hurricane Katrina, wildfires, tornadoes, hurricanes, floods, and other manmade and natural disasters.

We’ve only been involved in the program for a few months, but the changes I’ve seen in my young man are astounding. On Sept. 11, the cadets wore their uniforms to school. As a civilian division of the Air Force, the uniforms are military in style.

I wondered about my son, still a bit shy in his new school. He would be the only one there dressed differently that day. Not many people in our community have even heard of the Civil Air Patrol, and Logan was walking into junior high school wearing a uniform with his last name on one side, Civil Air Patrol on the other side, a flag on his arm and boots on his feet.

We talked about it on the way to school. The fact that he would stand out, and people would want to know why he was dressed the way he was. I told him he was going to have to give them an explanation; something better than the one word responses that he tends toward at school.

His reply? “I know, Mom. I’ve been thinking about it all week.” Then he told me what he was going to say; that it was about honor, and patriotism, and standing up and standing out. To show respect to those who died, honor to those who are serving, as a reminder to those that are here at home.

He got out of my vehicle, almost six feet tall in his boots. He squared his shoulders and adjusted his jacket before he walked in. The last thing he said before he walked in was, “Don’t worry, Mom. I’ve got this.”

Yes, I really think he does. The reason he has it is because the Civil Air Patrol is teaching him. If you would like more information or would like to find out if there is a local squadron in your area, go to www.gocivilairpatrol.com.

I Will Praise You In The Storm

I love this song by Casting Crowns. It talks about praising God, even through the storms of life, even when there aren't easy answers or quick solutions. I heard a song this morning, the day we remember the heroes and victims of 9/11/01. It talked about how though some people wonder where God was that day, God was everywhere. On the planes, in the seats with each victim. With the flight crew. In the towers, holding the hands of those who were dying and those who were trying to escape. With the firefighters who rushed in as others were rushing out. With the families of those we lost, holding them up as they learned the horrible news. God doesn't cause the horror. But He is there, in the midst of the storm.

I was sure by now God
You would have reached down
And wiped our tears away
Stepped in and saved the day
But once again, I say “Amen”, and it’s still raining
As the thunder rolls
I barely hear Your whisper through the rain
“I’m with you”
And as You mercy falls
I raise my hands and praise the God who gives
And takes away

I’ll praise You in this storm
And I will lift my hands
For You are who You are
No matter where I am
Every tear I’ve cried
You hold in Your hand
You never left my side
And though my heart is torn
I will praise You in this storm

I remember when I stumbled in the wind
You heard my cry
You raised me up again
My strength is almost gone
How can I carry on
If I can’t find You

As the thunder rolls
I barely hear You whisper through the rain
“I’m with you”
And as Your mercy falls
I raise my hands and praise the God who gives
And takes away

I lift my eyes unto the hills
Where does my help come from?
My help comes from the Lord
The Maker of Heaven and Earth

God is with us, through each and every storm of our life. He doesn't move, He doesn't change, He doesn't abandon us. We simply have to listen, and lift up our hands and our hearts. He will hear us, and if we praise Him even in the storms, we will always find Him.

Winning The Battle

I’m having a problem with the definition of winning and losing. My definition seems to be different than everyone else’s. That shouldn’t surprise me. I’m almost always different from the rest of the world.

In this case, I’m talking about being sick. Several prominent people have died recently, and in news reports about their death, it is said they “lost the battle” with whatever illness they had.

I disagree. They may have died, but they didn’t die a loser. Any person that has any prolonged or chronic illness for any length of time doesn’t lose the battle. They win, over and over and over again.

To understand my thinking, you have to understand not being well. For a person who is sick, everyday is a struggle, and there are battles to be won every day.

Getting out of bed is a victory. Getting dressed and moving and eating and bathing is a victory. If you can run an errand or get chores done or do something that is a reasonably normal thing to do that day, you have won the battle.

Fighting pain is a fierce and nasty battle. Not giving in to abusing pain relieving drugs is a battle. Not giving up and just staying in bed is a battle. Getting out and going on and keeping on and keeping up is a battle.

Every single time, every single day that someone who is ill manages to make it, they have won. If they have a terminal illness, every day that they beat the odds, they win again. If they are still breathing, they have won against the monster one more hour.

We all will eventually die. Some of us will die from an illness, and in our obituaries it might read “after a long battle.” That part would be right. It is a battle. But it isn’t one we lost.

We may die, but we fought for each day, and in the fighting we won victories both large and small. When I die, it won’t be because I lost a battle with an illness. The illness may ultimately be responsible for my death, but me nor anyone else who battles is a loser. We won because we fought. Death comes to everyone, but it doesn't defeat.

We refuse to be labeled a loser when we know what a victory every day was. We were sick, yes. We were dying, perhaps. But we were also living, and laughing, and loving. We were finding joy and peace and comfort and happiness. Perhaps we were even giving comfort and peace and joy and happiness to others.

Life has an end that must come. For some, the end is easy and for some it is not. But the battle was fought, and it was not lost.

City Vs. Country

I’ve always had a split personality of sorts when it comes to the things and places I enjoy. I grew up in a city, but loved going camping with my family.

I like cities, the bigger the better. I love the things most people hate. The hustle and bustle, the rush, even the mass of people. I like big buildings, and being on the highest floor of the tallest building. If you want pizza at 3 a.m.; you can have it. If you want to go out or go shopping for shoes at midnight, you can do it.

I like being a part of the whole, never having to wonder what to do because you live in a place where there are hundreds of things to do at any time of the day or night and thousands of people to do it with.

When I met my husband and mutual friends suggested we go out, he wasn’t much interested. I was a city girl, and he didn’t like city girls. That was okay, though. He was a country boy, and I didn’t much like country boys.

Things change. Part of that change is because the country boy that didn’t like me much married me. His love of the outdoors and of solitude and peace and quiet rubbed off on me. He dislikes cities for the reasons I like them. He hates crowds and traffic and the constant rush around him.

Part of that change was becoming a mom, and realizing the value of raising a child in a small town. My family isn’t the only one that loves and cares about my son in a small town. His teachers, his church family, and our friends do too. He isn’t just another face in the crowd in a small town.

There’s a little place close to where we live. The locals just call it the One Stop. From the road, it looks like a non-descript little gas station in the middle of nowhere. When we first moved here, I wasn’t sure it was even in business.

We discovered it is the heartbeat of the little community it serves. They have coffee starting at 5 a.m. They also have sandwich meat cut off the “stick;” basics like milk, bread and eggs; and everything from news to gossip to plumbing supplies to coloring books.
Our neighbors invited us to the Friday night fish fry at the One Stop. The gas station serves fish? Oh, yes, they do. And ribs. And shrimp. Every Friday night, the most happening place on our side of Clay County is at the One Stop.

The folks there know the locals and the strangers. They know who is sick, who is malingering, who is going downhill in a hurry and who is on the road to recovery. They know who is flirting, who is chasing, and who is being caught. It’s an education to go eat fish on Friday night. And, surprisingly, it’s a pleasure.

There is no hustle and bustle. It can take two hours to finish off a cup of coffee. The only traffic jams are cars trying to get around the tractors on the highway outside. The tallest buildings are the silos. If you want pizza at 3 a.m. you better have one in your freezer.

As a city girl, I loved going to new restaurants and trying different things. Driving 45 minutes to get across town and standing in line for an hour to get seated was no big deal. There was always a huge variety on the menu. It took forever to get waited on and then to get the ticket to pay. It was just part of being in the city.

Now, I drive eight minutes on Friday night to go to the same place. There are three things on the menu. Even with one waitress, you still get your food and your ticket quicker than it takes to get a glass of water in the city. You may have to stand in line to pay if the one waitress is serving instead of up at the cash register.

I liked the new and different and always on the go of the city. That was then. This is now, and I am discovering, much to my ongoing amazement, that I also like the steady and slow and always the same of the country. My “city” never rubbed off on my country boy husband. But his “country” sure has rubbed off on me.