If you ask me...

The last few days have been blessedly busy. A dear friend from Michigan drove all the way down here to Mississippi to visit me and we had a blast. Karen and I go back a long, long way. We worked together in the same office, married in 1970, became single parents in 1977, and had our children (two for her, three for me) one after another--starting in 1972 and working our way through 1976. To top it all off, our divorces were final during the same month of the same year.

There are other similarities in the twisting and turning paths our lives have taken, but one of the most interesting is that we're both writers. Karen and I even co-authored a newspaper column at one time. It was called "If You Ask Me..." and it appeared on Saturdays; she wrote it one week, I wrote it the next. But our shared column wasn't the only thing we wrote. Every spare minute of our adult lives, I believe, has been spent either jotting something down, observing others (and thinking of ways to incorporate their quirky ways into our latest work), reading, or actually sitting down and composing. We've helped one another with grammar, punctuation, wording, editing, titling--you name it, we've discussed it. We survived failed marriages, worked fulltime while raising little children in single-parent homes, and managed to stay one step ahead of the bill collectors when we were young and poor.

These last few days flew by. We laughed until our sides hurt at the crazy things we did (and thought) as idealistic young, single moms, and marveled at how well we turned out despite the frazzled lives we lived. We spent hours reminiscing, catching up with the events that transpired since we last saw one another. We reconnected in a way that emails and phone calls, as nice as they are, just can't do.

She's off to Gulf Shores now, and after that she'll travel to Tuscaloosa and then on up to Louisville to catch up with other old friends she holds dear. Karen may be a little on the crazy side, but that's exactly why I love her--and why her other friends cherish her friendship, as well. She shows me how to laugh in the face of adversity, how to cry when it's the only thing to do, to laugh when it's the best thing to do, and to be a friend under all circumstances. She brings out the best in me.

Thanks, Karen, for loving me enough to drive all this way for a visit and for reminding me once more what real friendship is all about. If you ask me, you're the best that ever was.

Until the next time...

New directions...

Sometimes I need a new direction, something new at which to take aim. I found that very thing a couple of days ago and I'm very excited about it. For a long time now, I've need a kick in the pants to reignite my passion for not only writing, but for submitting what I've written. For whatever reason, I've lost my confidence and stopped submitting pieces altogether. That's a very unsettling thing to happen to a writer, especially one who feels the days and months and years whizzing by at light speed.

Oh, I've written. Not a day goes by that I don't write something, and on most days, it's quite a bit. But I don't take it any further than that and that's not my purpose in this life. I firmly believe that I am to write for God; that He has called me to this passion and inspires me to do what He asks of me. The problem seems to be that I'm ignoring His direction--if not purposely, at least through pure laziness. I have the time, I have the equipment, I have the ability. What I don't have is an excuse for not submitting my work for publication on a timely and regular basis. As of right now, that's changing.

Until the next time...

Ties that bind...

If home is where the heart is, then my heart is scattered in chunks across the nation. Some of it lies in Michigan, another chunk is in Kentucky, yet another in Florida. Still more pieces reside in Indiana and Georgia. My friends and loved ones aren't located in one handy place where I can keep tabs on them in person. No, the passage of time and circumstances beyond our control have sent us in different directions--geographically, at least. Emotionally, we are bound together with a long "bungee cord" of love that stretches as far as it needs to in order to keep us tethered. Whenever one of us needs a helping hand or emotional support or just feels the need to spend time in someone's company, a gentle tug on the cord is all it takes to bring us back together.

There's no place on this earth--or in the heavenly world beyond--where that cord can't reach. On earth, it keeps us bound; to the eternal kingdom above, it keeps us connected. There will come a time when I'll shimmy up that cord straight to Heaven and then watch my loved ones from above while they tug and pull and keep themselves bound not only to one another, but also to me, other loved ones in paradise, and to our Heavenly Father.

Until the next time...

Making the switch..

The clock continues to tick and in about 48 hours, I'll be meeting Darice and Ron at a Cracker Barrel where they will "make the switch" with Richie. In other words, we're meeting about midway to save everybody involved a drive longer than absolutely necessary. Since we're in the middle of another ice storm here in Kentucky, I'm praying for safe, dry roads on Saturday morning.

Although I've been able to maintain this blog, contribute to the Christian Writers Forum blog, and email my loved ones from here, it's been difficult to sit down and actually write. A household with four cats, two young boys, a one-year-old baby, and two working parents (one working third shift) creates a noisy, sometimes chaotic environment in which to concentrate for any length of time. It's darned near impossible, in fact. I'm looking forward to getting back into the writing groove and resuming some normalcy in my life. I've grown accustomed, I guess, to having my days largely to myself, being able to do just as I please (when I please), and not adhering to the schedules of schools, babies, or places of employment. Call me spoiled, but I've reached a point in my life where doing what I feel like doing or what I'm inspired to do at the moment has become very important to my well-being--not to mention avoiding bronchitis, stomach bugs, colds, sinus infections, and big bruises from falling down in the kitchen at night. Frankly, I need to get home just to stay in one piece!

Making the switch from full-time grandmother back to full-time "me" might be a welcome change, but it's no substitute for little boy hugs and slimy kisses, for checking three beds at night to make sure everyone's covered up and cozy, or waking up before dawn to big grins and happy giggles. I'm going to miss this place.

Until the next time...

Harvest

I can handle a lot of things--and I have. Two failed marriages, health and financial problems, the usual child-rearing scenarios and a multitude of other problems too numerous and mundane to mention are among the hassles I've experienced over time. Since they haven't killed me, I assume they've made me stronger.

But one thing I can't handle is betrayal. The loss of trust it creates is incalculable; the pain, heart-wrenching; and the ever-widening circle of suffering it triggers goes on forever. Who knows where a betrayal will end or when the pain will subside? Who can calculate the cost or measure the true repercussions? Certainly not us human beings. We're so limited in our thinking, in our capacity to see the big picture, to project our actions into the future and see just how, and who, we've hurt by our actions that we can only guess at what our behavior will ultimately harvest.

Being betrayed is bad enough. Watching your child being betrayed would be unthinkable. I know for a fact that it would bring out the very worst in me; perhaps that is yet another nasty side effect of this kind of treachery--in addition to the initial agony, it also causes others to sin against their fellow man and more importantly, their Heavenly Father. Our thoughts, if voiced aloud, would no doubt betray us and reveal the very real feelings of anger and blame and deep disappointment we would naturally feel--as loving, caring parents--on our child's behalf.

I pray I never face that situation.

Until the next time...

Time well-spent

It's true what they say: Time flies when you're having fun! It's been a week since I've posted and those seven days have flown by. But we've been busy here in Kentucky and the past few days have been well-spent.

We held a combined birthday party this past Saturday for Hunter, who turned five on February 7th, and his baby brother, Cannon, who will turn one year old on the 21st. It was a gala event with lots of family members in attendance, two birthday cakes (both puppy-themed), colorful balloons, and presents galore. It was well worth all the preparation that went into it and even though the boys may not remember the specifics, they'll grow up with the full knowledge that their mommy and daddy love them so much that they'll go to great lengths to make their birthdays memorable. The same thing will happen when Dustin turns seven in May.

I've been so busy having fun with the boys that I've neglected my writing and this blog. It's always been my intention to use this personal blog to glorify the Lord in any way possible and when I neglect it, I feel as though I've lost an opportunity to tell of His faithfulness and love. The fact that I'm in Kentucky and capable of helping out with the day care for my grandsons is proof of His unfailing love. He knows better (even than I do) of my love for the boys and my need to be useful. I want to be the best mother, mother-in-law, daughter, sister, and grandmother I can possibly be, but sometimes money, distance, and time restrictions don't allow as much participation as I would like. This opportunity to spend a long period of time with the boys has truly been a God-send!

By the time my visit ends here in Kentucky, I'll be ready to go back home to Darice and Ron and resume my life there with them and the pets. I'll need some rest, no doubt, but I'm doing surprisingly well and I give all the credit for that to the Lord. He's given me all the strength I've prayed for. He knows how I want to appear to my grandchildren, i.e., thriving, useful, caring, capable and loving. I don't want them to remember me for my physical limitations (as invisible as they are), but for what I was able to do with them. I want them to recall how we played and laughed and worked together, how we shared jokes and told stories and cuddled. I want them to know, without a shadow of a doubt, that their Grandma Harper loves them (and their little cousin, Tyler) as much as I love their parents--and that God loves them even more!

Until the next time...

Making hay in Kentucky

I've been in Kentucky for nine days. Each of those days has brought its sorrows (in the form of aches and pains and a horrible cold) and joys (just about everything else). My dream of being a hands-on grandma has come true and it's just as wonderful as I imagined it would be.

While I won't be here beyond February, this month will give me a chance to do all the things I've dreamed of doing for (and with) three of my four grandsons. Being here for them first thing in the morning, all through the day, and right up to the last thing at night have been goals of mine since I first learned I was going to be a grandmother. Helping them with homework and valentines, planning birthday parties, supervising playtime, making forts out of kitchen chairs and blankets, reading books, and sitting on the floor playing with cars--all of these are worthy and longed-for activities for a grandma who doesn't have a chance to do these things anytime she gets the urge. No, I have to make hay while the sun shines and I've got a lot of hay piled up--and a lot more ready to be baled.

By the time I return home to Mississippi, I fully expect to be exhausted, sore, and sad to leave my grandmothering days behind for the time being. But until then, I'm bound and determined to do what I can to make joyful memories for my little boys.

Until the next time...