Let's Get Physical

Part of A Mommy's job is building the frame of the body for health.  The children are in your heart and you are in their hearts.
I can imagine, if we are raising the generation that will get their glorified bodies without seeing death, perhaps it is our job to teach them to develop earthly glorified bodies.  Bloodstreams and hearts that don't decay, because we don't beat them up.  Perhaps, what we do to God's heart, he allows us to do to our own hearts.  If we please His heart, perhaps we will cleanse our own heart problems, emotional and physical.

When did you first kiss?

. It is the joy of some, to keep from the young the beauty and the ravenousness of love. Some people dumb down the story to make it PG. I would be quiet and wait until the real story can be told. I will let the syphoners syphon love and passion from the story, if they would. Great expectations means that if there is no passion before the marriage, you cannot imagine that you will find it after. If you can use so much self control as to keep yourself soooooo pure in body and soul; maybe you don't love him. That is my philosophy. God meant love to be a great motivator. God bridged the divide and God pushed aside decorum to save His Bride the Church. Great Expectations shows the love of a sad and empty orphan, that drove him throughout his life and God used that love to save souls and to exorcise the devil from a community. The devil knows that secrets kept from people can give him a foothold. Secrets of bitterness, secrets of antagonism, secrets of thievery and falsehoods, PIP had a secret admiration that drove him to cleanse the world around him and his own soul. Better to deal with admiration, that might develop into lust, than thievery that leads to murder. God knows the truth of love and He has designed the love that grows into families. Henry Fonda, in Yours, Mine and Ours and in Spencer's Mountain gives some of the best love advice I have seen in the movies. Don't believe the fastidious nonsense. Live your life and love God and love as hard as you can, in marriage and when you get tired, love harder. Don't get shocked at the passion and plan for it.

Dear Evver

This morning, I am reminded of our beautiful and dearly departed Aunt Gloria. I talk about her to you, as I lament my ineptitudes at developing a green thumb. She is known for her lush greenery and foliage. Her front and backyards were alive with edible and inedible flora and fauna. She blessed us with lavender when we lived there near her and showed us aromatherapy, before it was cool. Her house was aromatherapy. More carbondioxide was processed at her house and more oxygen produced than any other house, I know. This morning, I am remembering her haircare. I was always awestruck that her hair was always perfect. I think that she cared for her hair and it wasn't for any other person, but herself. She was a widow and she cared about others, but she first cared about herself. Her hair was most similar to mine and so I looked very deeply into her eyes when she talked about her hair care. The antithesis of Grandma Ruth, who would make me want to cut all my hair off and never look at it again; Aunt Gloria pulled me aside as though we were peers. She said, I found such a great way to do my hair. I washed it and put rollers and took a drive in the car and the most perfect curls came out. I used the drive as a blowdryer. What an energy saver? I agreed and was grateful for her generous contribution to my difficult personal care. She loved me enough to talk me up, when I was discouraged beyond anything. Her spoonfuls of sugar made me think about caring when I couldn't have cared less. She was a dear and we miss her, here on earth. I hope that you can learn to encourage others like that.

Let's plan a picnic in the park for Easter?

I love it! Aren't you ambitious and a typical Walker sister? I would watch them work, in awe of their ability to plan and carry out the direction of brothers and mother and father with precision and flawlessly make memories for the family.
You have obviously inherited their ambition and abilities. It takes determination and grit, which may come from eating grits as much as we do. You've got it, Ladybug. Lets do it!

Forever! For EVA!

Today, you are very sick, You have a sad fever and I can't feed you like I want. I miss talking to you. I love you so much and am grateful for your companionship.
You were my little ladybug and I can't tell you how much I am grateful for you! Forever ForEVA I am your MOM and you are my baby girl For EVA!
Happy Valentine's Day- Sweetpea!

A Smallpox Epidemic?

Perhaps, just perhaps, I am making a mountain out of a molehill. In our family, it certainly is. My other children, usually accommodate my rants and raves about personal peeves. They usually walk away and don't challenge my maternal intuitions. Not my Evvy. She has intuitions of her own. This morning it was barefeet.

It is February. A mild February, granted, but February it is, just the same. I am deemed by all in the household the colorblind and others to be the least style conscious. They all have to dress me, if my colors would match. But, I am still the mother. Today was dress up day, in Public School, whatever that means. It looked like style day, to me. Only one glitch, somebody was going to school with her feet completely bare, sandals. Not the type of sandals with a strip of leather or something, to cover most of the feet and only toes hanging out, or heels hanging out, but the entire foot open except for spaghetti straps. I simply mentioned that they were inappropriate for the rainy weather and the fact that it is February.

I am not used to defending my arguments and taking out all of the stops about such things with my children. My Enoch, usually carries the children to obey their mother, even against their wills. They don't even have a chance to demand a hearing, with him. He couldn't get to her feet. He couldn't threaten her, with a glare. I had to articulate my argument.



I chose humor, since we daily have laugh fests about this or that thing. Usually my style inadeqacies are the humor. Today, I chose Pocohantas. I said you do look like Vanessa Williams, but you are not trying out for the part of Pocohantas, so get those sandals off your feet. It didn't work. Tears, sparks, flames, words, back and forth we went. Each time, I tried to choose the humorous anecdote, as opposed to the command tone. I had no movement of her will. Not even, I will think about it. Not even, I see your point but. No and stubbornly no. What do you know about this, no!

In my mind's eye I could see the young Pocohantas going before the Queen of England. If she had a mother, her mother would have told her to wear her shoes and maybe she would have lived past 21 years old. (maybe she wouldn't have been a legend, either). I saw the years past where "The Mother at Home" book made me see the life and death importance of having some command of the will of your child. I had to win this challenge. I went down every path of Pocohantas logic. I tried grossing her out. Only stubborn tears and accusations ensued. Such is the teenage daughter's mind. I remembered, with fondness, the times of challenge with the older two girls and how much I love them as women and the challenge that they have become.

The Pox of rebellion had a demi-pliette and I pulled out the Epipen of maternal prayer and persistence and Half-Nelsoned that girl in the wrestling match. When all else fails, might makes right. You get those shoes off those feet and sing to the blue corn moon when you get home, do you hear me. Smallpox may be eradicated, but obeying your mother is not. She stepped in it with me this morning and the ring of wrestling is still bustling with the sound of our battle of wills. I won the battle of the shoes, this morning and we both learned alot about eachother's points. I love teenagers, but I am glad that we only have two more waves of them, after this one.

I titled this challenge Pocohantas Go Home!

I am very grateful for another year. 50!

Friday night I sat with my youtube and enjoyed the music of Kenny Loggins and Paul Simon and Dan Fogleberg. I remembered the misfit teenager who was listening to such different and countercultural music and wishing to visit the Netherlands to Graceland. What far and distant lands, these writers led me through. Places I may never see with my eyes, but have visited with my heart. I am grateful for the imagination to have seen and travelled with many a prolific American writer, through their music. I am grateful for the hippie generation, before me and the folk writers who taught us to dream of other lands and to dream of peace and better lives.
I give the study of the beauty of American songsters and others to my children and wish them to grow into the fruition of the dreams that the "Innocent Ages" lend to them. Dan Fogleberg especially comforted my aging heart with his lyrics of beauty and true exposing of himself. He was real. This is me, he seemed to say, Not at all perfect, just growing.