My Little Piece of My Dad's Funeral

I promised there would be some upcoming posts that would only be of interest to a select group of close family and friends who were unable to make it to my Dad's funeral.  Typically, when I do any type of public speaking/preaching I don't have my notes typed out word for word.  This was a different situation and I felt that I wouldn't be able to share without having my notes typed out.  I did share a little ad lib, but 97% of what I said is recounted below.  It's about the five loves of my father.  Hope you enjoy reading it.  I enjoyed sharing it...and I did it without doing the "ugly cry."  More later.

There is a reason why immediate family members don’t often speak at the funeral.  It’s because you run the risk of doing the “ugly cry.”  I’m no stranger to the “ugly cry” because I did it at my brother’s wedding rehearsal dinner and at my Dad’s retirement dinner.  I’m going to attempt to make it through without that type of display but there are no guarantees today.

My Dad would never talk with any of us about his funeral or what he would want in the event he died.  So, I told Mom and Rob yesterday I would say to him, “You get what you get and you don’t throw a fit.”  I believe he would be pleased that his funeral wasn’t just a ritual, but instead a personal, meaningful remembrance.

First I want to thank Brother Trask for agreeing to speak today for my Dad’s funeral.  They were friendly but not close, personal friends.  However, Brother Trask was one of the men my Dad respected most in his entire life.  He ranked right up there with Pastor Wannenmacher in my Dad’s eyes.  I keep thinking of my Dad’s reaction if we were able to say to him, “Hey, Dad.  We asked Brother Trask to officiate your funeral.”  He would make this face and he would say, “Whoa.  He’s going to speak at MY funeral?”  He had a fierce respect for and loyalty to you and we are honored that you agreed to preach for him today.

I wanted to speak today because my Dad loved to tell stories and I felt that his story, from our family’s perspective, needed to be told.  Of course, with my Dad it was never about just telling the story, but about HOW you tell the story.  You had to have an angle.  The angle I chose for today is The Five Loves of My Father.  I had started writing down some notes last week and pretty quickly categorized my Dad’s story into five different things that he loved or was passionate about.  The next morning I asked my Mom if there was anything she wanted me to say when I spoke and she said, “I really want you to talk about the things that your Dad loved.”  Everything she said was something I had already included.  We are either on the same wavelength or we are just in tune with my Dad’s passionate heart.

The first love of my Dad was God and His Word.  He spent hours reading and studying the Word of God.  In his later years he would stay in bed until he had read all of his Scriptures and had called out by name in prayer all of his family members and all of his church members and their extended family.  We would tease him that the house could be on fire but he would stay in bed if he wasn’t yet finished with his reading and praying. 

He knew God’s Word better than any man I know.  When I was little we would play this game where I would read a passage of the Bible to him and he would tell me the book and the chapter, and oftentimes the verses.  My Dad was a man who loved to talk about the deep things of God and he really enjoyed his long talks with my husband and my father-in-law.  There were many sermons that were left unpreached by my Dad.  His last sermon was two days before he died.  My Mom said he never had difficulty getting a sermon as some pastors do at times.  He always had 2 or 3 sermons rolling around in his head just waiting to be preached.

But, my Dad didn’t just talk about God; he put God’s Word into action.

For many years we have teased Dad about being a stalker at the grocery store.  His tactics have changed over the years but he would regularly visit a store close to here and “case the joint” for people who looked like they couldn’t afford their groceries.  Then he would tell them he wanted to pay for them.  Most times people were surprised and grateful but once in a while he would encounter someone who was offended by this gesture.  That’s when he made friends with the manager of the store and asked him to let him pay for people’s groceries anonymously.  He especially loved to stalk people at the grocery store around the holidays.  Within the last couple weeks he told my Mom he was going to go to the store to see the manager about Thanksgiving and who needed help this year.  He also told her that he was going to give some white dress shirts to the manager because he knew he needed them.  My Dad didn’t just have a love for God’s Word but he put it into action.  There are thousands more examples of my Dad’s generosity but Lindy reminded me when I started typing my notes that I wasn’t the one preaching today.

The second love of my father was my mother.  We never, ever doubted his love for my Mom.  She was as much a part of him as his own skin.  He cherished her; and my brother and I knew she was his first priority after Jesus.  He was very affectionate with my Mom.  He would hug her and kiss her in front of us kids and it was as natural as air to us.  They went through some challenging times together as all couples do but it only strengthened their love for one another.  My Mom was always submissive to my Dad but able to be strong and independent at the same time.  For many years when my brother and I were growing up my Dad traveled for the Benevolences Department and left my Mom to care for my brother and me while she worked full-time.  He was also pastoring for all of those years and when he was out of town she would preach.  They were quite a couple.  Over this past week I have received numerous messages from old friends who mentioned the kindness of my parents and what an example of God’s idea of marriage they were to everyone around them.  My Mom often said that my Dad would have been satisfied just being on a desert island with her.  She was his Pon.

The third love of my father was the rest of his family other than my Mom.  She gets her own category.  That’s just how much he loved her.  My brother, Rob, is exactly the man my Dad raised him to be—a man of honor, integrity, humility, and loyalty to a fault.  He is one of the finest men I know.  He doesn’t think he will, but I am confident that he will do an honorable job filling his Dad’s shoes. 

I warned Rob the other day that I might have to tell this story about how proud my Dad was of him.  Last year when my Dad turned 80 years old his church had a big celebration for him.  We went to his church on that Sunday and he had Rob speak about his upcoming missions trip to Ghana, Africa.  When Rob finished speaking Dad said that when Rob came back from Africa he was going to have him come back to the church and tell about his trip and he was going to call it “Robert David Bornert Day.”  Well, Lindy and I couldn’t pass up an opportunity as golden as this one to help give suggestions about what should be included in his day.  I started right away suggesting pony rides, a ferris wheel, cotton candy…. We were going to make it a celebration.  For a while after that Lindy and I would text and email Rob all of our ideas for Robert David Bornert Day.  Lisa got in on this too.  Rob told me the other night that he really did go back to share about his trip and I was a little disappointed to hear that it just included a Powerpoint and pictures.   

My Dad also loved my sister-in-law, Lisa, like she was one of his own children.  Once she married my brother she was no different than if she had been a blood relation.  He loved my Lindy like his own son but he especially appreciated that I married this wonderful man, my rock, who would cherish me and take care of me like he did.

He saw the uniqueness of each of his grandkids and he never neglected to tell them that he loved them and that he was proud of them.  They each had their own special relationship with their Poppy.  Alex was his only granddaughter and the little one who made him a grandfather.  He was going to be called “Pa Pa” but Alex called him “Poppy” and it stuck.  They had a very close relationship as they lived close by all of her life.  John Addison was his first grandson and my Dad was tickled pink that Jac preached a short sermon the last two years at Fine Arts.  The first year he was only 11 years old.  Also, when Jac visited this summer and my Dad told me he was going to pay Jac some money for helping him around the house I told my Dad that Jac had pledged $100/month to missions this year.  Jac planned to give every dollar he earned from his Poppy to missions.  This nearly brought my Dad to tears.  His next grandson, Ethan, shared my Dad’s patriotism and love of country.  Ethan has been into all things military for the last couple of years and my Dad recently gave Ethan his hat from the Navy.  Also, the last time my Dad came to visit us was specifically to attend Ethan and Gavin’s Veteran’s Day Assembly at their school.  This was a big deal to Ethan as his Poppy was his hero since he served in the military.  My little Gavin is only six years old but he shares the love of writing with my Dad.  Gavin already writes little books that he illustrates and binds together.  He gave a little book to my Dad for his birthday.

I was amazed this past week at God’s graciousness in preparing a little 6-year-old’s heart for his grandfather’s death.  Gavin had been stuck on listening to an old song called “Big House” by Audio Adrenaline for the week prior to my Dad dying.  It’s a song that talks about our heavenly father’s house.  “It’s a big, big house with lots and lots of room.  A big, big table with lots and lots of food.  A big, big yard where we can play football.  A big, big house.  It’s my father’s house.”  Three days before my Dad died Gavin and I were running errands together and we listened to that song in the car no less than 17 times.  The next morning we listened to it again on the way to church.  Obviously I know the song is about heaven but I didn’t make the connection to my Dad dying until a couple days after he died when Gavin wanted to listen to the song.  I wasn’t in the mood to sing it along with him but I asked him if he knew what the song was about.  He said, “Yes, it’s about heaven.”  I said, “And where is Poppy?”  He answered, “He’s in heaven and he’s playing football.”  My little guy is comforted by the image of his Poppy playing football, something he never saw him do.  I’m comforted that there’s a “big, big table with lots and lots of food” because his motto was “No one leaves my house hungry.”

My Dad also loved and was loved by his brothers, sisters, nieces, nephews and friends who were just like family to him.  He was widely regarded on both sides of our family as being the final authority on the Word of God.  You had a question about the Bible?  You called my Dad.  He would tell you the truth.

Also included in his love for his family was his church family.  Preaching was a great love and we all talked about when he might retire but deep down we knew he never would.  I think he would have withered away if he couldn’t preach the Word of God to his church family.  He was blessed with a church family who loved and honored him for the last 33 years, and we love them very much as well.  Before that his church family was in Searcy, AR and there are people here at his funeral who are serving God today because of my parents’ ministry.

The fourth love of my father was his poetry.  The last time I stood in this very spot I was standing next to my husband; and my Dad and my father-in-law were tying a knot very tight.  There would be no 10-minute wedding ceremony for us.  It was about 50 minutes and, trust me, our knot was not coming untied.  About 15 minutes of the ceremony was my Dad reading the poem he had written for my wedding.  He also wrote a poem for my brother’s wedding.  He wrote poems for holidays and other special events.  He loved to tell a story in poem form.  Earlier this year my husband and I were in Israel and Lindy read a portion of one of his Easter poems when we were at the Garden Tomb.  Writing poetry has been something that I believe kept my Dad’s mind sharp and occupied along with his endless study of the Word of God.  He had grand plans of having books of his poetry published and he already had several poems copyrighted.  This was something that he invested a lot of time in.  We talked frequently about the latest updates with his poetry.

The fifth and final love of my Dad was his love for television—but not in the way you would think.  His love for television fell sharply into two categories—Fox News and preaching programs.  He had no interest in anything else on TV but he loved to watch Fox news and talk about politics.  In recent years politics was one of our most frequent topics of conversation when he and I would visit.  I had caught the politics bug when I was 8 years old and we were watching the Reagan/Carter election returns.  I asked, “Daddy, what do all of those red states mean on the map?”  He simply said, “Punkin, that means we’re winning.”  Dad and I got used to winning, but he had to give me my first pep talk in 1992.  I was at ORU watching the election returns in my dorm room by myself and I had to call my Dad so he could console me. 

My Dad was passionate about praying for our country and our leaders and the direction our country is heading in grieved him deeply.  As we were driving from St. Louis on the day my Dad died I had lots of time to think.  One of the things I thought my Dad would ask God, after he got over the shock of actually being in heaven since this wasn’t part of his plan in the immediate or distant future, was this question:  “God, why did you allow Obama to be reelected for four more years?”  Later that evening when my Mom and I were talking in their bedroom she said, “Well, at least your Dad doesn’t have to deal with Obama for the next four years.”  We both knew how much Dad prayed for this election, but also how he knew that God takes care of his children no matter the outcome of any election.  We are children of the King of Kings and the Lord of Lords.

My Dad also loved watching his preaching shows.  I doubt he ever got sermon ideas but he loved to watch them anyway.  When I was visiting on the last Sunday in October and getting ready to go to church I could hear my Dad watching one of his shows.   He was talking back to the preacher telling him he was getting some point of doctrine wrong.  Later I asked him what that was all about and he explained it to me.  Just like in baseball there’s no substitute for speed, in my Dad’s book if you’re a pastor there’s no substitute for sound doctrine.

I know there’s a lot more to my Dad than the five loves that I talked about today, but it’s hard to put 81 years of your father’s life into 15 minutes that sums up what was most meaningful to him.  Since he died so suddenly it has been hard to see the positive side to him passing away.  That’s what Mom and Dad always taught us to do—find the positive in everyone and everything.  I’ve found many “it could have been worse” scenarios but only one positive side.  And it’s the most important thing.  The silver lining to this cloud is that my Dad is with his beloved Jesus in heaven and we who are left here without him have the peace that comes from knowing that.

Thank you for allowing me to share from our family’s heart about my Dad today.  

And We Begin Again....

It's hard to know where to begin but I know that I have to write.  I guess the best place to begin is where I left off.  On November 14 I published the second part of a two-part blog post on "Faith Isn't Faith Until It's Tested."  Six days later my Dad passed away very suddenly...unexpectedly...without warning...here one minute and gone the next.  Some of my readers might be wondering if I thought my faith had been tested before that time but now I'm really going to have my faith tested.  If God could see fit to call my Dad home to heaven so suddenly, does my faith in Him stand up to this test?  My answer?  This life-altering event didn't test my faith at all.  It was already secure, rock solid, unwavering.  In the ten days since my Dad left this earth I haven't once become angry with God, questioned his sovereignty, or even asked myself why.  The shock of his death was very difficult and painful but in all things I give thanks.

We celebrated Thanksgiving two days after his death, even as we were still reeling from the shock of accepting that he was gone.  Yet we still gave thanks.  We gave thanks that he lived for 81 years.  His mind was still sharp, he was still independent in every way, he didn't suffer or linger on this earth...it was simply his time and God called him home.  In our minds, the alternative to how my Dad died would have been so much worse.  Our hearts go out to friends and loved ones who support their family members through years of illness and disease, watching them fade away slowly.  Even in the midst of our grief we felt blessed.  And, no, my faith never wavered.  God's mercies are new every morning and we have felt His mercy each and every day as we have come to terms with the reality that my Dad is no longer here.

My Dad loved to laugh and tell jokes and stories.  He loved to kid around.  We have been able to "find the funny" that I've blogged about before in the little things.  He would have appreciated that.  A couple days after his death my Mom told me Dad's latest blonde joke.  He loved blonde jokes.  Allison, one of our close friends and a member at his church, visited with us and was telling us the joke he told at church just two days before he died.  We found several things to laugh at while we were preparing our hearts to say our final goodbyes.  Mom and I were typing his obituary on Thanksgiving Day and when we were finished I shouted out, "Dad, we wrote your obituary on Thanksgiving Day and that is NOT cool!!"  The next day, on my Mom's birthday, was the day we had to go and view his body for the first time.  It was just myself; Lindy; Mom; my brother, Rob, and my sister-in-law, Lisa.  I was dreading it but once I saw him and realized he looked nothing like himself it made it a little easier.  We were able to say, "That's not Dad.  He's already in heaven."  As we were standing there chatting I leaned over and said to him, "Dad, we wrote your obituary on Thanksgiving.  Now we had to come look at your body on Mom's birthday.  This is really NOT cool!!"  We turned it into a light moment.  I shared one of my famous stories about back when I was a "real hospice nurse" and I learned how long it takes for rigor mortis to set in.  (My Heartland friends will appreciate that because they've all heard that story).  My brother shared something that was a TMI and not fit for sharing on my blog or anywhere else.  We found a way to laugh.

We have been overwhelmed and humbled by the outpouring of support from friends and family both near and far.  We understand that people die every day--it's the circle of life--but his death has been the most significant that our little family has experienced.  I gave updates on Facebook on a near daily basis for the past several days.  Since a lot of my blog readers are also my Facebook friends I will try not to be repetitive, but this outpouring of love and concern is such a big part of what has transpired.

I mentioned on Facebook that my mother had no idea that his visitation would be so well-attended.  She in no way expected there to be an actual "line" to pay their respects.  We were in a large chapel that was about 80 feet from front to back.  I could see that the line went out the door but I heard that the line went around the corner and almost to the lobby.  There was a line for two hours.  I was up in the front by the casket and speaking to each person after they passed by my brother and before they got to my Mom.  I found that I did a lot of apologizing to people for the long line and a lot of consoling people, some who couldn't speak as they were so overcome by their shock and their love for my Dad.  I tried to tell as many people as I could how special they were to my Dad and how much he loved them.  Later on, I told Lindy that I felt I did more consoling of others than they did of me.  I didn't feel bad about this.  It was just an observation.  I was touched by how many people were going to deeply miss his presence in their lives.  Lindy said that you just can't take the "pastor's wife" out of me; and I guess you also can't take the hospice nurse out of me who is compassionate to others during their time of loss.

Well, I felt the need to write but now I feel the need to close for now.  In the days to come I'll be posting some other things.  I want to write about his funeral, how meaningful it was.  I want to explain why I had a smile on my face rather than tears during his burial service.  I plan to post what I wrote and spoke at his funeral.  I might post the entire video of his funeral, but this would be of interest to only a select few friends and family who had hoped to attend but had been unable.  I want to write about the "Goodbye Tour" that my Mom and I went on the day after his funeral.  I want to let you know how our family is doing.  Just know for now that we are doing well.  Sure, we are sad, but the joy of the Lord is our strength.  My Mom mentioned the other day that she, my brother and I had gotten through this whole experience without one disagreement or one cross word to one another.  Of course.  We would expect nothing less.  We loved my Dad and we love each other.  What do we have to disagree about?  We agree, we love, and we begin again....

Faith Isn't Faith Until It's Tested...Part 2

If you are just happening upon my blog today you had better back up one post.  This story is a continuation from yesterday....

OK, are you caught up now?  So, Lindy and I were in the midst of selling one house and rehabbing another while I was pregnant.  Can you say stressful?  We were getting ready to launch ourselves into parenthood and we had an abundance of roofs over our heads--but we really only wanted one roof over our heads.  I was having a lot of fear and doubt because our house was not selling right away and we owned two houses.  We had only one loan for two houses but it was a very LARGE loan. 

Now, my nature is to be a practical, analytical person and I was having some serious trouble seeing with my finite mind how we were going to work everything out.  My problem was that I was relying on my own intelligence but not having faith in God to work everything out.  The Bible says that faith is the "substance of things hoped for and the evidence of things not seen."  That means that faith isn't faith until it's beyond our own human abilities to solve whatever issue we are facing.  I think when we get to the end of our own solutions God has us right where He wants us.  I also think that he doesn't mind seeing us squirm a little to see how we are going to react to our circumstances. 

So, I was getting really "squirmy"--figuratively-speaking--and at one integral moment Lindy and I were both in the master bathroom of our 115-year-old house (House #1).  I don't remember our whole conversation but I'm sure it involved some amount of hormonal expression (whining) on my part about our situation.  At the particular moment that is so clear in my mind to this day, Lindy stood in front of me and put his hands on my shoulders.  He kind of shook me and told me that my problem was that up until this point in my life I had never really had to trust God for anything.  Everything had just always happened, more or less, the way I expected it to and this was the first time I was facing a situation that I could not solve.  Now, as is also my nature, I'm sure I probably argued with him at first and told him that I did trust God and I had always trusted God.  After all, I had been a Christian all my life.  You see, I thought I had trusted God but my faith had never been tested up to that point.  This was a big moment for me and I realized that Lindy was right...I had never truly had to rely on God to solve a situation for me.  Lindy basically told me that although I had wonderful parents they had sheltered me from this sort of thing and now that we were married I needed to learn how to trust God on my own without my parents...and right quick.  You see, Lindy's a smart guy and he knows that when God tries to teach you something if you don't learn it the first time...you just might be going over that same mountain again.  And...since I was married to him and we were now one flesh he wanted me to get on board quick with learning to trust God so that we wouldn't be going over this mountain together again and again.  The next "mountain" might look different than this one but until I learned this lesson God was going to allow us to experience circumstances that would give me the opportunity to learn to trust Him.

Fortunately for me, I mean us, the light of understanding came on in my heart and I began to really trust God to take care of our house surplus situation.  Does that mean that as soon as my heart became enlightened to this revelation that our house immediately sold and that our life has been happily ever after since that time?  Nope.  In fact, we owned both of those houses for 18 months and this was only the beginning of that journey.  Looking back, I think that God wanted me to learn once and for all that I could trust Him for anything.  I know Lindy learned through this process too, but I believe the testing of our faith was really all mine.  Even then, he had amazing faith that is still evident today. 

God totally, miraculously blessed us in the process and we were better off in the end than we could have imagined.  My faith had been tested and I had passed the test!!  Since I went through that experience at that time I can look back now when we go through difficult times and know without a shadow of a doubt that if I put my trust in God He will take care of me and my family.  It may look different or happen differently that I expect, but that's just the excitement of serving God.  My job is not to see to the end of every circumstance, my job is only to trust in Him to bring me through to the other side.

I hope that if God is testing your faith you will see it for what it is and rise to the challenge of learning to trust in Him.  Believe me, you want to learn this lesson quick so you can move on to the bigger and better things He has in store for you.

Maybe a future blog post will tell the whole tale of two houses.  It's a humdinger...

Faith Isn't Faith Until It's Tested

Well, it's been more than two months since my last blog post--not so great for someone who says she likes to blog.  I have lots of excuses but I think the best one is that I just don't want to write about any old thing just to have something to post...or just to fill a quota...or just to get people to read.  It's nice to have goals but if I don't have something to say, I don't want to say just anything.

However, my lack of something to say came to a screeching halt last night after the Sister Circle.  Wait.... What's the Sister Circle?  I can hear you asking the question, because it sounds like a cult or an exclusive club, but it's neither.  It's a monthly get-together for ladies at my church that want a chance to socialize, eat dinner or dessert or drink fancy coffee, and learn something all at the same time.  I love it.  it's one of my favorite things that I get to do and I think it's because I...love...variety.  Maybe you're someone who just likes to eat with others, or someone who just likes to socialize and have a good time, or someone who doesn't see the purpose in doing anything that allows you to come away without learning something.  Well, Sister Circle is all three rolled into one and as a bonus I really love all of the ladies who attend.  Those who know me well know how much I adore variety. After all, I'm one of those annoying people who can't wear her hair in the same style for more than a few days in a row.

Anyway, I digress.  Usually at Sister Circle we have around 20 women.  The players change but that's the average number.  This month I got busy and didn't badger or cajole anyone into attending.  The result of my non-badgering and non-cajoling ways resulted in only around 10 ladies attending.  But, I think it was one of the best nights we've had.  Sometimes a smaller group lends itself to a more intimate discussion and more feelings and experiences being shared.  That's what happened last night and it was wonderful.  Don't get me wrong.  I also like the nights when 25 women show up but the dynamic is different.  Not bad, just different. 

The ladies of Sister Circle have chosen to do a particular book study and lately we've been studying the book of Joshua...like in the Bible.  One of the main themes of Joshua is God's faithfulness to His children and the absolute bank-on-it fact that He always keeps his promises.  This is true today just like it was then.  The focus of our discussion last night turned out to be about God testing our faith in Him.  That's right.  God uses circumstances in our lives to test our faith and whether we are truly going to trust Him to bring us through.  And guess what??  God rewards faithfulness.  We had some wonderful interaction with stories shared and tears shed but the message was that Faith Isn't Faith Until It's Tested.

I won't share anyone else's story of God testing her faith, but I will share my own in case it's meaningful to someone.  I grew up in a very secure family with parents who trusted God to take care of them, but didn't really talk much to my brother and me about struggles in life.  We were protected from the harsher realities of life.  They took care of me and my brother and, honestly, when I was growing up there wasn't much for which I had to lean on God.  I trusted God in my own way but I had never really ever had to go through anything that tested my faith. 

Sidebar example of how much I was protected from the realities of life:  I was talking to my Mom recently about Jac starting to drive in a couple years and how my friends with kids of driving age have talked about how expenseive car insurance is when you have a teenage driver.  I had no idea and told her that Dad never mentioned the expense of car insurance when I was a teenage driver.  Her response?  She laughed and said, "Robin, you really believe your Dad would ever have told you/complained to you about how expensive something was?  No way.  He just paid it and didn't say a word about it."  That's my Dad.

I coasted through my childhood and college and getting married and never really had to trust in God.  I always prayed about big decisions and endeavored to do what I thought God's will was for me, but my faith was not truly tested until I was 26 years old.  I remember the exact circumstance and I shared it last night with our small gathering of the Sister Circle.  Lindy and I had been married for about three years and were expecting Jac.  I was very pregnant and we were trying to sell one house and move into another one because Lindy was on staff at a church in Illinois and we were still living in St. Charles, MO.  (The full story of the-buying-of-one-house-and-the-selling-of-another is really a blog post for another day.  It's a story of God's provision and blessing while learning patience).  Anyway, to say that we were having some difficulty with selling our house while having to rehab the other one while I was pregnant is an understatement.  I was full of fear and doubt yet I remember the exact moment when God made His faithfulness real to me.  It was a test of my faith that I had never experienced before.  He used Lindy to turn on the light of understanding in my heart that had never had cause to be lit before.

I would love to continue the story, but as my blog posts have turned out to be too lengthy most of the time, you're going to have to come back tomorrow to read the rest.  This story is to be continued....

Facebook and Faraway Friends

I think I've been on Facebook for almost three years.  I joined a few months after my husband when I saw how many old friends with whom he had been able to reconnect.  Both of us have lived in several different places throughout our lives and have collected friends along the way.  Inevitably, we lost touch with many of them, as happens in life, and Facebook opened up a whole new world to "staying in touch" with people.

I can totally understand the reluctance of certain friends who have lived in the same place all of their lives to sign up for Facebook.  If you've never moved around, and in and out of other people's lives, and you've stayed put in one general area all of your life; you might not want to be on Facebook.  This is my own conclusion, and not what any of these friends have shared with me; but if you've lived in the same place all your life you're probably close to the people you want to stay "in touch" with and "out of touch" with others you've chosen to stay out of touch with.  Why join Facebook and take the risk of reconnecting with someone who might still live around the block?  Maybe this surmising on my part is totally off track, but I don't think so.  I also get why some people don't join because they have careers where they need to have pretty rigid boundaries--such as doctors, teachers, etc.  Others don't join because they see Facebook as a total waste of time--which can totally be true.

What has become fascinating to me about Facebook over these last almost three years is the complexity of Facebook users, as a whole.  What can I say?  I loved my sociology class in college and group behavior fascinates me.  There are a variety of ways to use Facebook as an outlet of expression.  Some people only play the games (I play no games, so please don't send me any game requests.  I probably have all the games blocked anyway).  Some people view Facebook as their way to share the word of God and so they only post Scripture verses.  Others use Facebook as a way to rant about one thing or another.  Some people continually post things just to get people riled up, while others really contemplate their postings and only post what's on their heart.  A few people have to share each meal they've eaten, including how it was cooked.  Others end every sentence of their post with at least 2 !!.  I guess those people are trying to get across their point of how serious or excited they are about whatever they are posting.  Some people accept every single friend request while others keep their friend list to a select few.  I'm probably somewhere in the middle but if I don't recognize your name or there is more than 2 degrees of separation between us then I probably won't accept your friend request.  My mother-in-law finally joined after being one of the last in the family to succumb to Facebook when she kept asking why she didn't see certain pictures of her grandkids and our collective responses would be, "Well, I posted the pictures on Facebook."  The need to see pics of the grandkids was eventually too great to overcome.

You can learn a lot about people by what they post on Facebook, and I won't share every conclusion I've drawn about that because you've probably come up with your own theories if you've been on Facebook for any length of time.  If I have a pet peeve about Facebook it's the people who write cryptic posts like, "I've had the most horrible day...."  Well, what happened to you?  Did your dog die?  Did you get stuck in traffic?  Did McDonald's get your drive through order wrong?  Did you get fired from your job?  Really.  What was horrible?  The list of "horrible" things could go anywhere from the tragic to the mundane.  One of the first Facebook lessons I learned is that those people are only looking for attention--someone to bite and ask what happened.  I admit that I'm not one to bite.  If something it too personal to say in front of 500 Facebook friends then don't allude to it at all.  Every cryptic post leads each person to draw their own conclusion, and then to draw their own conclusions about you as a person.  That is Sociology 101.  Enough of my Facebook soapbox.

I typically post about my kids, something funny that happened, celebrating someone or something, share pictures, posts about my blog, etc.  If you ever see me post about something that brings confusion or leads you to question what's going on in my life, then let me know.  Because that is not my purpose for being on Facebook.  One of the best things about Facebook, that I realized from the very beginning, was being able to reconnect with people you haven't seen for any number of years.  In this "reconnecting" you can begin to believe that you really know what's going on in their lives.  But the true essence of us cannot be summed up in a year's worth of Facebook postings.  Most of us only share what we want others to know.  Along the way we realize that there are people with whom we are content to stay "connected" through each other's Facebook "walls"--which I think is an apt title--and others who we really want to see again.  We can make all sorts of plans to "have lunch" and "get together" with long lost friends, and some of those are honest attempts at reconnecting personally, but for most long, lost friendships the connection through Facebook feels sufficient.  It's probably best to remain that way in some circumstances.  There's a statistic that says that infidelity is up 200% since Facebook came into our lives.  If you're "reconnecting" with an old boyfriend or girlfriend in an inappropriate manner on Facebook then you've taken the "reconnection" too far.

Over the last year I have had the fabulous opportunity to get to see two friends who I hadn't seen since college and it probably wouldn't have happened without Facebook.  I love knowing bits and pieces of what's going on in my friends' lives--remember, you don't really know what's going on in their lives through wall postings--but you can at least read random musings and have a general idea of how they are doing.

I got to see my friend, Kimmie, last summer and I know I posted about getting to see her when I blogged about our Florida trip last year; but seeing Kimmie wouldn't have happened without Facebook.  Kimmie, I'm not sure what happened to all of my college pics with you.  We had some pretty crazy ones.  Sharon, here you go, girl.  It was great getting to catch up with you after so many years.  Memories fade but the true friendship never goes away.  Love you both.

Kimmie and me at her house last summer

Sharon and me in college--she had a particular memory about her dress

Loving on one of my best girlfriends

This was my dorm room, circa 1992

Me wearing one of Sharon's wigs.  I must have been trying to pose as a secret agent.  She looks like she's thinking, "When is this white girl going to give me my wig back?"

Sharon and me this summer attempting a crazy pose, but nothing is ever as crazy as college

 

Finding the Funny

I often feel like we get so bogged down with everyday stress and trying to accomplish everything we're expected to do that we end up taking life, and ourselves, way too seriously.  People are really stressed out these days.  I kind of think we would be more content if we were able to find the funny in everyday life.   Now, if I didn't possess the ability to laugh at myself and the crazy circumstances I find myself in I would be a malcontent, maladjusted miserable Mom.  But, because I can find the funny I tend to be pretty content most of the time.

Take last Saturday morning, for example.  Whatever was I thinking when I decided to take all three of my kids to Walmart!! in the middle of the day!! to buy school supplies!! on tax-free weekend!!??  I must have been out of my mind.  I also went without eating or drinking anything that morning.  Big mistake.  My real goal was to be at the Gap Outlet when it opened on Saturday morning at 9:00.  I had told Lindy this.  He was very kind and let me sleep in, but when he woke me up at 8:40 he asked, "Aren't you supposed to be at the Gap by 9:00?"  Well, yes, I was; but apparently, not now.  My original plan had been to only take Gavin with me because the older two boys were supposed to go to the gun range with their Dad.  That didn't happen due to rain in the forecast so all three of them decided to go with me.  They have to pick out their own school supplies, you know.  The Gap was pretty much an OK experience, but Walmart was a different story.  I was there 15 minutes trying to negotiate Moms and Dads with carts and screaming kids in the aisles before I was wishing I was in a Calgon commercial.  (I guess you have to be above a certain age to appreciate that reference.  Apologies to my whippersnapper blog readers.  You'll have to search youtube for old Calgon commercials).

Anyway, I have three boys with three lists each vying for my attention.  I'm trying to remain organized--I'm still me, after all--and it was not working.  After a few laps around the school supply section where I'm thinking that I could have made this shopping experience much more user-friendly had I been a Walmart employee; and after thinking up words of advice for a Dad to get his 2-year-old to stop screaming with none of them sounding very polite in my head; I knew I had to escape to the grocery section.  As usual, when I have all three boys in tow, I had already given them my obligatory pre-grocery shopping lecture on the way into the store.  It goes something like this:  "When we get in the store there will be no whining, no begging for stuff, no putting stuff in the cart without asking, no fighting with each other, no touching each other, no using items in the store as weapons against each other, no arguing over who rides on the cart...."  It's actually a much longer list and they can pretty well recite it back to me.  Once we got to the grocery section of Walmart I think they were also about ready to get out of there.  We got our groceries, picked out a cookie cake for Ethan's birthday dinner--which was only about 6 weeks ago so we aren't doing too bad--and left the store.  Pretty uneventful so far.

Wendy's is a stone's throw away and by this time I'm in desperate need of a Coke--not coke, as in cocaine--but a Coke, as in caffeinated beverage.  I wasn't that desperate.  So we go in and sit down with our food and the boys start in with one funny story after another.  It's not hard to find the funny with these three but they were getting louder and more expressive as we continued to sit there.  Gavin is next to me and Jac and Ethan are across from us.  Gavin is on his knees on his chair drinking Coke from my straw.  One of his brothers said something funny and what should happen at that point?  Well, of course, Gavin spewed Coke out two orifices (nose and mouth) all over the table--including my phone.  Of course, this made them laugh even harder after the initial shock.  At this point I put a very serious look on my face and said in my sternest Mom voice, "BOYS!!  STOP...HAVING...SO MUCH FUN!!!!"  I was halfway through the sentence before they froze in place.  Jac's eyes were as big as saucers until I finished the sentence and then they were all writhing with laughter once again.  You see, I could have gotten upset after the morning I had just experienced and now Gavin has spewed Coke all over our food and my iPHONE!! but I chose to find the funny instead.  After all, they are only mine to enjoy for so long and then one day I'll have to turn them over to wives and lives of their own.

Once we got home it only got better.  We had driven Lindy's Pilot that day and knowing how important it is to him to avoid all potential scratches, dings, or nicks to either vehicle; I parked in the driveway rather than the garage so that walking between the vehicles with loaded Walmart bags that might potentially brush up against them could be avoided.  Our driveway is on a slight incline which I didn't think about as I usually drive the car which has a trunk and is different than the back of an SUV.  The back hatch opens on its own and as it opens--but before it has fully opened where I can get close--out rolls our watermelon on to the driveway where it hits--SPLAT.  It cracks open and continues rolling down to the end of the driveway.  In the three seconds it takes for us to watch the watermelon roll down the driveway--and while the hatch is still opening--I hear a duller kind of SPLAT--and feel something cold on my feet.  Yep, the gallon of milk I just purchased has now rolled out onto the driveway, busted open, and within about 10 seconds we got to see what a gallon of milk looks like on aggregate in the middle of a 100 degree day.  Nice.  Of course, the only person who doesn't see the humor in this is the one person who didn't just experience the morning we have had.  Lindy.  He has a logical suggestion which would have prevented this occurrence.  "Well, you should have had the watermelon and milk in bags and hooked them on to the hooks in the back of the vehicle."  Well, yes Lindy, that makes perfect sense and I should have thought about the potential of the watermelon and the milk rolling out of the Pilot and onto our driveway before I left Walmart.  Thank you for that fine suggestion.  Jac was on hose duty and I was able to salvage the watermelon after Lindy carried it inside.  Our only loss was one gallon of milk.  The rest of the groceries and school supplies survived the trauma of arriving at our house.

Later that day I was putting laundry away in my bathroom when I knocked our container of Qtips on the floor where they all proceeded to scatter.  What could I do but laugh?  This was the kind of day I was having.  

Yesterday I spent the day out of town helping with a training for brand new hospice nurses.  I was the first speaker and my slot was for 2 hours.  I purposely wore my bright turquoise flower-patterned pants with a coordinating top and shoes.  I was joking with the group that I wore the pants to keep them awake and that I knew what they were thinking:  "There's the girl that buys those pants!"  Do you ever go shopping and look at certain items of clothing and think to yourself, "Who would buy those?"  Well, these are those kind of pants and I told them that now they know the girl that buys them.  I told them that I had a similar experience once when I saw the girl who buys the Coach shoes that match the Coach jacket and the Coach bag.  I love a Coach bag.  I can even handle the matching Coach jacket.  I was just pleasantly surprised to finally see the girl who buys the bag, the jacket, and the shoes and then wears all of them together.  Likewise, we had a little entertainment at work not long ago when we saw a guy in the parking lot with bright peach dress slacks, a matching peach suit jacket, and matching patent leather peach shoes!!  Seriously.  I'm not kidding.  And, he was a white guy.  Just sayin'.  Like "peach sherbet"--as one of my co-workers nicknamed him--I'm not afraid of color and I like my floweredy pants.  In fact, one day Lindy sent me a text that said something to the effect that he loved me and could never live without me.  I was wearing those pants that day and I texted him back and said, "That's a good thing because there aren't many guys out there who can handle a girl who wears brightly flowered turquoise pants."

Anyway, while I was doing my PowerPoint presentation yesterday all of a sudden the slides started going backward.  I asked the class,"Haven't you seen those slides before?  It seems like they're going backward."  They all confirmed that, yes, the slides were going backward.  It took me more than a few seconds to realize that I had my thumb on the wrong button on the remote and I was repeatedly pushing it.  I apologized and assured them that it wasn't going to be my only blonde moment of the day.

I could recount story after story of just living my life where I choose to find the funny.  I choose to live that way because life is too short to take ourselves so seriously.  Lindy and I take much pleasure in making fun of each other and, especially, in making fun of our kids.  After all, why have kids except to make fun of them?  They are getting old enough now to give it right back.  A good sense of humor can do a lot to ease the stress in life that is inevitable.  And...the Word of God says that the JOY of the Lord is our STRENGTH.  So, let's have some JOY and let God make us strong in Him.  There's your spiritual spin on my just-for-fun blog post.

By the way, for my grammar-loving friends: I am aware that my subject-verb agreement is not perfect in this blog post.  I'm willing to find the funny in that and publish it without perfecting it.

Love to all,

Ethan is Ten...You Might or Might Not Know What That Means for Me

My boy #2, the classic middle child, turned ten years old last week.  Ethan has officially made it to the double digits and he continues to be one of the bright, shining lights of my life.  If you're new to my blog and maybe you want a little "Ethan history" I'll have to direct you back to some blog posts I wrote about him in April 2011 when he was hospitalized for three days.  He also starred in a very graphic blog post about the scourge known as the stomach flu.  I believe I wrote that one in December 2010.  Of course, I wrote a blog post about him for his birthday last year and you can find it here.  As I mentioned last year, Ethan is anything but plain vanilla.  He is all sugar and spice (even if that's supposed to be for girls).  Ethan continues to have an all-consuming preoccupation with all-things-military.  I think this interest has stuck for about two years now.  Military stuff and enormous Lego sets--those are his two passions at the moment.  Whereas my older and younger sons kind of float from one interest to another, my middle son is definitive about and committed to those two passions.  Once again, one of his birthday gifts was to go to the Army surplus store and have a little shopping spree.

Ethan and his little recruit.

 I can recall my Dad saying when Ethan was a tiny baby that he would be a very persistent, determined boy--and likely, man.  That continues to hold true.  Once he gets something in his head that he is interested in or desires to have he is like a dog with a bone.  He's always been that way.  And, you know what?  He usually gets what he wants eventually.  He's willing to sacrifice having many things to get the few things that he really wants.  Also, he's very specific about what he wants--down to the model number.  That's his Uncle Rob in him.

I had a revelation about Ethan recently.  He is not my boy who loves his Mom to hug and kiss on him right now.  I guess that's part of being a "tween" if that's what you want to call him.  I still do hug and kiss him--a lot--but it's not without receiving quite a bit of resistance.  However, recently I was putting some special things in a box that each of the boys had made for me and I realized that Ethan is the child who likes to write notes to me or draws pictures for me.  That's how he shows his love.  I told his Aunt Cayla and she said that must be his love language and that's probably how he likes to receive love too.  She's right.  I'm going to be more deliberate about that, but I'm still not giving up on the hugs and kisses.  All boys need hugs and kisses and "I love yous" from their mommas.  No one can convince me otherwise.  They also need it from their daddies but this is my blog, not his Dad's blog.

This one is from October 2008--6 years old

Let me translate:  "I love my Mom so much!  Too much.  Very Much! From:  Ethan  To:  Mom

He recognizes in this one that his Mom loves him.  

This was his Mother's Day card to me this year.  My favorite line is H--Her hair is blonde but she went to college.  I guess he's impressed that I'm blonde and still a little smart at the same time.  He hasn't made the connection yet that he's just as blonde as me even though I remind him frequently.

Ethan reminds me a lot of my love--his Dad.  He has that charming way about him.  Once when he was about three years old we were in Target together.  I was telling him the things we needed to get and we were standing in an aisle with the groceries.  I told him we needed milk and he said, "I'll get it.  You just stand there and look pretty."  That is soooooooo his Dad.  Ethan pretty much gets along with everyone and is complimented frequently for his politeness.  Not that my other boys aren't polite--they are--but it's probably more unusual for a boy in the 9-10 year-old range to be noted for his politeness.  All of his teachers have adored him and I am so proud of him for being such a good boy all the time.  He has a very tender heart.  He's the one who will come and ask permission to eat a popcicle after his brothers have already grabbed one from the freezer. 

Honestly, could there BE three cuter boys??

It's difficult to really encapsulate all that is Ethan in a simple blog post.  I deperately love all of my boys, equally and in different ways, and I am so blessed to experience the uniqueness that is each one.  One of the things that is different about Ethan compared to his brothers was the timing of when he was born.  If you've read the blog post that I wrote about him last year then you might think you know what I'm referring to.  If you haven't I encourage you to because I believe it will be meaningful to you even if you don't know Ethan.  But that "timing" is not the timing I'm thinking of.  Yes, Ethan was born five minutes after midnight on his due date; but what's significant also is the time of year he was born.  You see, I already had my beautiful boy, Jac, and Lindy and I knew we wanted to have more children.  Of course, the big decision is always "when?"  Around this time I had prayed that God would allow me to have another baby before I turned 30.  Well, my little Ethan slipped right out and peed on the doctor's shoes exactly 20 days before I turned 30.  So, if you're any good at math at all you can quickly figure that if Ethan is turning ten then that means I am turning....  I'll let you fill in the blank.  Ethan is my child who can't let me forget how old I am...EVER...because he knows I'm almost exactly 30 years older than him.  Gotta love him.

Ethan has been at his grandparents' house the last two weeks in Springfield.  He wanted to spend the 4th of July there and so spending his birthday at their house was the trade-off for getting to spend the 4th there.  I have missed him desperately, as I missed Jac when he was there for two weeks.  His Uncle Rob helped me surprise him with the enormous Lego set he wanted and I got to watch him open it on Skype.  I love giving the gifts to my kids that they really want.  It's so much better than just guessing and buying something you think they will like.  He had a little party there and he doesn't want a party at home.  Nope, my boy wants to go to the gun range for his tenth birthday.  You're not surprised by that, are you?  He really wants Mr. Matt to go though so we have to plan it around his schedule.

The back of his shirt says "All Things are Possible"

I hope you've enjoyed a little Ethan insight as he turns ten.  He is a unique boy--very special indeed--and I am so proud of his tender heart, his sweet spirit, and most of all, how he wants all his friends to know Jesus.  We are blessed with a tremendous gift in our middle son.

My Baby Jac is Turning 13

I am definitely not the first Mom and I won't be the last to say that I can't believe my baby boy is going to be a teenager.  It is so hard to comprehend that my overbaked-half-grown-infant-child is turning 13 years old.  I've never referred to him as my little baby because my pre-maternal visions of motherhood did not include my oldest son as an infant.  He was overbaked by ten days and while I had envisioned cradling this tiny little peewee baby, as Lindy and I are relatively averaged-sized people, I did not forsee myself cradling a baby with legs that extended past my waist.  There was baby...and then there were his legs.  He was 23 inches long and 8 lb 12 oz at birth.  He didn't have an ounce of fat on him and still doesn't to this day.  He's been this long, lanky kid since birth.  My cousin, Lana, won't recall this but I remember us comparing our babies' measurements and her son had the exact measurements at one year as Jac had at six months.

If you believe the much-bandied-about adage that you can double a child's height at the age of two and predict how tall he will be as an adult, then you might see Jac peek at 6 feet 4 inches someday.  (Honestly, I hope this doesn't hold true because it would make Ethan 6 feet 0 inches and Gavin 5 feet 8 inches as adults.  Not so great for the Gav).  I thought Jac would pass me up last summer but he didn't.  In April he was 5 feet 3 1/2 inches--just one inch to go--but his inseam and feet are the same size as mine.  Crazy.  He's in that terribly frustrating clothes-buying stage of not yet a man but not really a boy.  You would think I would rise to the challenge since I love shopping so much, but I'm tempted to let the boy wear his jeans until they're "manpris" (the male version of capris) just so that the next time I buy clothes for him we can just stick to the men's department.  Right now he can wear a boy's size 18 in shorts and some men's jeans in 29-30.  Do you know how hard it is to find jeans in 29-30?  I guess most men are carrying around a bigger gut than Jac.

I've really enjoyed being part of Jac's life while he has grown into this amazing young man.  He was a sweet little boy and has just grown into this polite young man that is sensitive and intuitive and easy-going.  This year has been quite an experience for Jac and me since we've both had braces for the last several months.  I've teased him about how we need a photo shoot with his Dad to capture this time as mother-turning-40 and son-turning-13 brace-faces.  To say that his father and I are proud of him seems so insubstantial compared to the way we really feel about Jac.  We expect amazing, beyond our imagination things for Jac and we speak that out over him and tell him all the time how we know he is going to be everything God calls him to be.  For the record, he's still set on being an astro-pastor.  If you don't know what an astro-pastor is you''l have to go back and read the post I wrote about Jac last year when he turned twelve.  I had already started this post when I went back to read that one to make sure I wasn't too repetitive and I noticed that I named it "My Baby Jac is Turning 12."  I guess in my heart he will always be my Baby Jac.  Lindy and I knew he would be John Addison but decided to wait and actually look at his face to decide whether to call him John or Jac.  We immediately knew he was Jac and my co-workers took to referring to him as "Baby Jac" and it stuck.

Eating in Little Italy in Manhattan

Jac at Hershey Park on his "best chocolate day ever"

Jac spent the last two weeks with his grandparents in Springfield and about halfway through he was very homesick.  I think more than anything he missed his brothers.  We were skyping with him and Jac was just laughing and grinning at his brothers' shenanigans in front of the computer.  Up until now, the relationship between Jac and his almost 10-year-old brother Ethan has been kind of hot and cold--the standard "Jac won't play with me," "Ethan won't quit bugging me" arguments that you probably have in your house on occasion if you have two or more children.  This past Thursday night Ethan was desperate to Skype with Jac but didn't really say why.  After they finally connected later that night I asked Ethan what he had wanted to tell Jac.  Ethan had earned his "Cut and Chop" card in Royal Rangers this week at church, which from my understanding is a big deal and means that he has passed all the requirements to be trusted with a knife.  (Don't quote me, but it's something scary to Moms and exciting to boys like that).  Also, Commander Matt gave Ethan a cool new knife for earning the card that he wanted to show to Jac.  When Ethan and I were discussing their interaction he said Jac had told him he was proud of him.  Oh, did that ever melt this mother's heart.  I have such high hopes for my boys' relationships as adults and this is a good step in the right direction.

My two 2 little sweetie pies pre-Gavin

Turning 13 is going to be a big deal in this house with our three boys and Lindy plans to take each boy on a trip--just the two of them--to "seal the deal."  There might be more information on this later--and perhaps I can convince the husband of Not Your Average Pastor's Wife to be a guest blogger on a later post describing what is so significant about turning 13.  Their trip is already booked and it's a surprise to Jac where they are going.  I know they are both going to have a blast.

Jac, I love you, I'm proud of you, and I'll never quit hugging and kissing you and telling you always how much you mean to me and how much you have changed my life.  You are one of a kind and I can't wait to be known as "Jac Carnett's Mom" in whatever direction God plans for your life.  Stay true to Him and you can never truly fail.  Psalm 18:30 says, "As for God, His way is perfect."  What more do we need?  Love you, babe.

Baby Jac on June 9