Musings I

Hide 'n' Seek

2012-01-25T18:46:00.001-08:00

My youngest granddaughter, Madison, loves to play hide ‘n’ seek. This is the top game on her list and one normally played after dinner. You can see the excitement and anticipation on her little face as she says, “Come on gramma, let’s play hide “n” seek! I’ll hide!” And, off she scampers with her little three year old legs moving as fast as they can, as she makes the turn into the hallway. Me? I’m left standing there counting in a loud voice, “One, two, three,… nine, ten. Here I come!” Now, to be sure, when we first started playing this game, she would give herself away, either with giggles or jumping up as I drew near. However, she is several weeks older and wiser now and has this game down. A real pro!

One night last week, we started our game. I looked in all the usual places and no Madison. I looked in some unusual places and no Madison. I even stooped so low as to ask her eighteen month old brother where she was hiding, but he just kept looking in the usual places, so I bit the bullet, so to speak, and went to question her mother. “Try looking under the comforter and stuff on the bed; she loves hiding there.” I did and she was there! Her giggles were delightful!

Thinking of this special game and my earnestly seeking Madison, I am reminded of those in scripture who have also hidden themselves: Adam and Eve, and Saul. Adam and Eve hid from God due to sin in their lives, and Saul hid from those who wanted to crown him king over Israel. I Samuel 10:22 tells us, “He had hid himself among the stuff.” I contend that Saul hid himself out of fear and humility. He did not see himself as the Lord saw him, and he did not believe he could do what was being asked of him. Who was he in the sight of other more prominent men? After all he was from the tribe of Benjamin, the least of all tribes. Yet, to be sure, the Lord God had chosen him to reign as the first king over Israel.

How many times do we hide ourselves among the stuff: work, family, pleasure, problems? None of these things is bad in and of itself, but if we fail to respond to His calling on our lives, what have we truly gained? Fear is to be conquered and humility protected. Saul began humble but, somehow, lost his way. Possibly, he began to believe that he truly was head and shoulders above all others. Being used of God for any purpose does not make us better than another; it should simply make us humble servants. Our rise and fall depend totally on the Lord.

Many are called but few are chosen- Matthew22:14 tells us that there will be those who the Lord calls but, for lack of response, were not chosen to do the work of the Lord. He who has ears to hear, let him hear… Matthew 11:5 again makes us realize that there will be those who do not respond to the call of the Lord. Both of these scriptures remind us that far too many hide among the stuff. God, may I not be one of them is my plea.

Let us walk in the certainty of our higher calling and leave the playing of hide “n” seek to our children.

Vaya con Dios Mr. Hartzog

2012-01-24T19:54:00.000-08:00

The community of Rio Hondo has lost a gentleman. Mr. James Hartzog left this world on January 19th and in his wake he left many hearts longing for one more day. I first met Mr. Hartzog when my family moved to Rio Hondo many, many years ago. He was working at that time with his father and brother in the little wood frame store: Hartzog's Grocery. We, my family and I, had moved into a small house owned by the Hartzog's on the same block where James, Henry, and their father each had a home. So, Richard and I had several Hartzogs watching over us.

Over the years there were many times that I had occasion to speak to Mr. Hartzog, and he was always the same: so very friendly and always asking about my brother. Once I began teaching, he let me know how proud he was of me, and I felt as if a family member had patted me on the back. That was the type of man he was. If you did good, he rejoiced with you, and if you didn't, he wept with you. He might even scold you if he deemed it necessary. It was all done in a spirit of love.

I was privileged to see Mr. and Mrs. Hartzog at the all school reunion the last of September. Of course there were the hugs and conversation, and both were their same jovial selves. I will be forever grateful that we met that one last time.

Seeing the various email and facebook posts, many people have fond memories of James. But, that is the way it is in Rio Hondo. Family... We may not share the same last name, but we definitely are family. I will not say good bye, sir, just vaya con Dios, until we meet again.

Christmas Wishes for My Children

2011-12-13T20:17:00.000-08:00

Driving home from very enjoyable, albeit very short, visits with my daughter and grand daughter in Deer Park and my "sis" in Dickinson, I was listening to Christmas music and singing along. I love the absolute anticipation of Christmas: I always have. I am one of the world's greatest procrastinators, and this year is no different than any other. Thoughts of gifts I need to purchase ran through my mind, and David's words rang in my ears: "Someone once told me Christmas is not about gifts." (Thank you for listening, son.) So, here are my wishes for Christmas ...

I wish I could give to each of you a desire to know the Lord in a very real and personal way. A desire so strong it would eat at the depth of your being until it was fulfilled. A desire so rich you would want to pass it on to your children and eventual grand children. A desire when realized would cause your very being to melt in the presence of the Almighty...

I wish I could give you a heart to love God. A heart so full of love that it overflows and spills on all you are near. I wish for you a heart of love that never turns cold, even when disappointments come and rob you of joy for a season. I wish for you a heart full of gratitude to the One who gave us life...

I wish I could take all the pain that life has thrown your way and give you only pleasant days. I wish that all your disappoints and trials could be forgotten and replaced with the joy found in HIM. I wish I could right every wrong...

I wish I had not made so many errors throughout the years, but may you learn from my mistakes. I wish you the ability to see that people make mistakes, but know that God uses those mistakes to strengthen His children.

I wish for you the art of forgiveness... for it is through forgiveness that we find release and are ourselves forgiven.

I wish I could go back in time and hold each of you more and smother you with hugs and kisses. I wish we could share the Christmas of 1985 again as we celebrated around our "Charlie" tree. I wish for you memories that will never die of faith,family, friends and fun.

I wish for you Faith to move mountains, Love to build bridges, and Hope in a future filled with the Christ of Christmas.

I love you more.... Mom

Life is Like a Football Game

2011-11-08T07:02:00.000-08:00

Several times during the night I was awakened by the thought of how much the life of a Christian is like a football game. The apostle Paul equated it to a race, but I have found it so much more like a football game. No matter how many times he fails, the Christian with a heart for the goal will rise and try again. The stands are full of "a great cloud of witnesses" cheering him on! Our receiver knows he must press on toward the mark because there are others depending on him to make that goal.

Envision with me, if you will, a young Christian we will call the receiver. He is lined up behind those who will go before him in hopes of making the way straight. The blessing is snapped to his guardian angel to be passed to him as he runs toward the goal. Our young Christian knows the route he must travel and he desperately tries to run that very route, but he is pursued by those who would deflect him from his goal. He is, in many instances, hit with the force of a semi truck just as he reaches for the blessing. He falls, he is hurt, he is humiliated, but he is not out. He rises and lines up to make that try again...

In life, we receive many bumps and bruises, and we even fail miserably at times, but the prize set before us is worth every injury to body, mind, and soul. I truly want to hear the words "Well done my good and faithful servant, enter in." I want the score board of my life to reflect a WIN for the kingdom of God.

The Notebook--an analogy

2011-09-17T17:10:00.000-07:00

I watched The Notebook for the umpteenth time last night and, yes, I have read the book. This is definitely one of my favorite love stories of all times. Two others come to mind: Ghost and The World in His Arms. But, The Notebook has taken on a new meaning for me. One I would not have been looking for---it found me.

I always smile when Noah and Allie quarrel during their early years. How many young couples start out like that? Each trying to be "always right." It is heart warming to know that their love and passion for one another bring them back to what is important: each other.

But, the surprising thing I received from watching this love story this time came this morning while I was reading scripture and praying. Noah's face came before me as it is in the scene where he has been reading to Allie and he takes her inside to have a candle-light dinner. He has been so good to her, loving her, devoting his time and energy to her, and she responds by pushing him away and refusing his attentions. But, his face--the pain expressed in his eyes and demeanor gave me a glimpse of what the Lord must feel each time we brush Him aside--each time we act as if we do not know Him--the one who gave us life. He, too, never stops trying to remind us of His love for us. He, too, has promised to be with us until the very end. Truly, we will cross over with Him.

Strange how things evolve. I will never view The Notebook in quite the same way. It has taken on a whole new meaning for me. The love I am looking for and the needs of my heart have been more than met by the love of Christ. Will I still desire the love of a mortal man? Probably. Will I be pricked with pain as I wonder why not me. Probably. Today, however, I am basking in the love of my heavenly Father, and I thank Him for allowing me that glimpse into the dimensions of His love and desire for His children, and I am thankful that I am counted in that number.

Good-bye Jerry

2011-08-28T14:56:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, August 27, 2011, Chrystal and I left the Austin area on a trip that would allow us to say good-bye to her Uncle Jerry and my former brother-in-law turned friend. Jerry Thomas Haynes was the third son born to Fred and Elsie Haynes of Harlingen, TX. His early life, as my former husbands, was marked with tragedy and difficult times. Jerry was eight or nine when his father died and life became very, very difficult for his mother and her family of five young children. With five wild and rambunctious boys and a young, handicapped daughter, life would prove to be anything but easy for this feisty young mother...

I first became aware of Jerry when I was eighteen. I was dating his brother Claude at the time. Jerry liked working in the oil fields, so he wasn't around a lot. Claudette's first Christmas brought Uncle Jerry to our door Christmas eve. He had his arms loaded with gifts for "Baby Girl" and her parents. I do not remember what he brought for everyone else, but he had an armadillo purse for me. Oh yeah, it was a real armadillo! It was made from the outer "shell" and the head was attached to the flap that closed the purse. I know, I know, it sounds horrible, but I liked it and carried it for years. One cannot destroy the armor like shell of an armadillo. lol "Baby Girl" was petrified by it! She did not want it near her....

We later moved to Brownsville, and Jerry made a couple of visits while we lived there. Once, in particular, he came down on a Friday and he and Claude went out to play pool. I stayed home with Claudette and Jamie. I began to get concerned around midnight and took up a seat near the window so that I could keep an eye on the road and hope for their safe return. Sometime around one a.m. they truck slid into the drive and stopped immediately. The doors on both sides of the truck opened and both men tumbled out. Claude and Jerry were fighting. This was so foreign to me, I did not know what to do. I stood on the porch calling both their names and pleading for them to stop. Claude had a punch land on Jerry and Jerry fell. He was knocked out. Claude picked him up and carried him into the house and laid him on the sofa. He told me, "he'll sleep it off and be okay in the morning." What???? Is that all? We went on to bed, and I was worried all night. What would the morning bring? Once up, and after a trip to the rest room, Jerry came out looking rather sheepish and exclaimed, "I guess I had it coming." He was sporting the biggest black eye I have ever seen. That was it. Nothing else was ever said.

Jerry moved from the valley with his wife Anita in the late 60's and we saw little of him. But, when ever he did visit, we were all able to pick up and start where we had left off the last time we saw him. Eventually, Jerry became a master plumber and his work took him to Houston. He and his wife had one daughter, Michelle, and lost twin girls. Life became difficult for him. He drank more and his marriage fell apart due to lack of trying on both parts. But, his love for his brother and our family did not change.

We moved to Houston in '73, and we saw more of Jerry our first few years there. He eventually joined AA and stopped drinking. I visited the meetings with Jerry until his brother joined in'77. Jerry lived the AA experience. He made it his mission to help those who wanted help. Life was far from easy, but it was better.

After Claude and I separated, I saw little of Jerry but, when ever we met, he was always the same. We picked up where we had left off, and we were still family. My children loved their Uncle Jerry and he loved them. Love does not require a daily viewing. There may have been years between visits, but the relationships stayed intact.

Those at the memorial spoke of a man who would not put up with anything done half heartily; he did not want to hear anyone say the Lord's name in vain, and he always maintained that God did not have a last name. He always blessed his meals, and was always polite. He was a gentleman, but far from perfect. The Ivey brothers remembered the fun loving friend they grew up with and his mother, who was like their second momma. The Ivey and Haynes boys had a 'history'... lol

And, of course, everyone there had fishing tales to tell. Jerry was a fisherman... He loved to catch big reds! Next to the people he loved, fishing was his life. Are there fish in the Crystal Sea? His ashes will be scattered in Matagorda Bay.

We said good-bye to a gentle soul yesterday, but he is enjoying the fresh fields and golden streets of home, and I would be willing to bet that he, John, and Booger have already made their way to heaven's fishin' hole.
Via con Dios Jerry, until we meet again.

Why I Taught

2011-08-15T20:36:00.000-07:00

I was working at a middle school, back in the 80s, as a teacher's aide, while I attended school to become a physician's assistant. I, truly, thought my great love was in medicine, and I wanted to be a part of that field. That is until some very unusual things occurred. Things I could not control, and things that changed my life forever.

One particular year, I was helping out on the first day of school, and I met this young man I will call Lupe. He was a cute, macho type kid, and I chose him to help me carry books back to the classroom from the book room. While walking in the hall' I asked him the usual questions: "Do you like school? Do you make good grades? What do you want to do with your life?" He told me a little of his family and what he liked to do and said he did not like school and NO he did not make good grades. I mentioned that he looked like an A student to me, and he laughed, "Not me ma'am; I never make all A's." My reply, of course, was but you could. I asked him to please try, and I got a reluctant, "I'll try."

That first six weeks, I reminded Lupe of his need to do well and he really tried. All of the class papers were kept in folders in the classroom, and I saw that none of his grades fell below 90. I was so proud of him and his willingness to try. As the grading period came to an end, I averaged the grades for the teacher, and Lupe had a 96. Why to go Lupe! I gave the teacher the grade book and she took it to look over. When I got
it back to put the grades on the report cards, I noticed that Lupe's grade had been changed to an 86. WHAT?
I questioned the teacher and she said, "You don't understand. He's an (last name), and they do not make A's." I felt like I had been hit in the gut... When I handed out the report cards, I apologized and he just hung his head and said, "Don't worry about it. I told you I never make A's."

He continued to do well in that class and, of course, he never took home the grade he actually made. My heart broke for him! Why was this happening?

During that same year I witnessed a young man being picked on by some of "the school's finest." When the young man I will call Felix hit back, several teacher's jumped into the frey and took all the boys to the office. I went to the defense of Felix and was told that in reality he had started the fight. I knew better. Felix was expelled for a few days for fighting, but nothing happened to the real perpetrators. WHY?

I decided at the end of that year that I would get my degree to teach. I told John of my decision, and he said, "Go for it Mom. You can do it." I knew students in my classroom would not be mistreated. Students in my classroom would be safe.

The next few years were really rough. John went home to be with the Lord my first year in college; I worked full time and went to school at night, and my husband began to exhibit signs of leaving, However, God was with me, and I finished classes in less than four years and began my career as a high school English teacher. I loved it! I learned so much from my students and they kept me on my toes. Life was good. Thank you to all who filled a desk in my classroom. You gave this teacher more happiness than you could possibly imagine.

What of Lupe and Felix you might ask? Lupe dropped out of school at the end of his freshman year and was later killed in Harlingen, and Felix left Texas at the end of that horrific year. Life for them was not good... To them, I owe my life as a teacher. Thank you Lord for putting them in my path.

Captain America

2011-08-01T15:12:00.000-07:00

Wednesday of last week I took my grandson Kyle to see the movie Captain America--in 3D, no less. I was hoping to score points with him and make him feel a little more comfortable with grandma. As it turned out, he scored points with me!

I thoroughly enjoyed the movie and felt a renewed pride for my country. I remembered sitting in movie theaters as a kid and watching as the good guys won and we, Americans, came out ahead. It had been a long time since I had been able to experience this in a movie, and I had the added pleasure of enjoying it with Kyle.

I loved the way the little guy was escalated to a prominent position because he had a heart for doing the right thing. Doing the right thing doesn't seem to be what most people employ during this time in American History, so it was a breath of fresh air for this grandmother.

I am not into action movies, so the blowing up of things, shooting objects, and throwing shields left me ducking a lot: 3D, remember! Kyle took it all in stride! Once the good guys had won and the movie was over, I asked Kyle if he were ready to leave. To my surprise, he said, "Well, sometimes, after all this stuff is over, they show another part from the movie." So, we stayed. At the end of all that stuff (credits), we were able to see a small portion of another Avenger movie. I had learned something new, and Kyle was able to go home to his friends with some added information: valuable stuff to a ten year old!

Thank You for the birthday wishes...2011

2011-07-24T20:46:00.000-07:00

I just want to thank all of the many Face Book friends, former students, and family for their wonderful birthday wishes. I was moved by the number of people who took time from their day to make mine so special. How does one say a personal thank you to so many? I was moved to tears by some of the personal comments made by some... your words mean more than you will ever know. It is sad that FB will not permit lengthy ramblings, or I would have used that vehicle to say Thank you.

To those who said they missed my class---I can only say, I probably miss it more. Every student who entered my class became "my kid" for the duration of that class. I loved you all like a parent, and I wanted the very best for you.

To those who were kind with thoughts of inspiration--- thank you, but there is only one who truly inspires and that is Christ Jesus. I pray that I have allowed Him to be seen in me.

To those who have said I am missed in the valley---Thank you. The Valley will always be home.

I have had a truly remarkable birthday this year, and you all have made it thus. Thank you again from the depths of my heart. May God bless each of you as you have blessed me. Love you, Ms Tewell, Annette, or Aunt Annie

Pets that make you go hmmmmmmmmmm

2011-06-26T20:46:00.000-07:00

I have been watching Marley and Me tonight. This is a movie I swore I would never watch because I do not like the female lead. And, besides, the book is always better and I read the book when it came out. It was and is a truly remarkable book, and the movie is really funny. Reminds me a lot of some of the dogs I have owned over the years. No, I have never owned a dog like Marley! But, some of his antics certainly look familiar. LOL

There was Ginger I, the dog I got from Lyle Worley when I was 15. My first "real" certified pure bred dog. She was a beautiful German Shepard---good natured and protective. Ginger was my dog and I was her human. Period! The young man I had been dating at the time brought a Christmas gift and put it under the tree for me, and Ginger went and picked it up by the bow and took it back to him! We were all shocked and then bust out laughing. Ginger was my hero! Someone, who did not appreciate her protectiveness, decided to feed her cut glass in hamburger meat. And, after a horrible night of agony, Ginger was gone.

Another of the many dogs I had the privilege of owning was King. King was a chow and shepard mix. A truly remarkable dog. We aquired King when we lived in Sunnymead, California. My step dad brougt him home one day and we bonded. King slept in my bed each evening, and when I wasn't looking he would beat me to bed and lay his big self in my spot and take the pillow... Mom used to tell of how he would watch out the window each day for the school bus to stop across the field and then run to the door. Once she let him out, he would bound through the waist high grass running to Richard and me. It was funny to watch him as he would jump to see over the grass to determine where we were. I loved that crazy talking dog! Yep, he could talk. When asked if he wanted to go out he would whine, " I wanna goooo peeeeeeeeeee." No, really he would!

We had a silly mixed breed when we were in Germany. Her name was Queenie, and she was anything but Queen like. She was definitely my step-dad's dog. They would go out at night: he on his bicycle, and Queenie running beside him. Bill enjoyed the pubs while stationed in Germany, and Queenie loved visiting them too. Sometime after midnight they would stumble up the stairs to our fourth floor apartment. Queenie always loved sleeping on the window ledge that was about 10 inches in width, and she would jump into the chair in front of the window to jump onto the ledge; however, on the nights she and Bill visited the pubs, she would run to jump into the chair only to hit the side of it with her nose. After several attemps, she would lie down on the floor next to the chair and pass out. Definitely an alcoholic dog...

Richard was given a small black and white terrier when he was in high school. We called her Tiny. Tiny became Mom's dog. She was always where ever Mom was. They did everything together when Mom was home: watching tv, listening to the radio, cleaning house, washing clothes, hanging the clothes on the line to dry, and eating onion and mustard sandwiches. On yes, as gross as they sound, that is what they ate! I was never able to understand how, but, yep,they did!!!!

Tiny had one puppy that lived. She looked nothing like Tiny. Queenie II was a blond dog, much larger than Tiny, but every bit as goofy. My husband and I took Queenie II and raised her with our oldest daughter. Queenie was Claudette's little protectorate. Once when Claudette was just a toddler, she heard her daddy's car coming ( he drove a Goliath, a small, loud German made car) and she started toward the street. Queenie ran to her and stood in front of her to keep her back from the street. Amazing the intelligence of some animals.

Rex adopted us when John was just a baby. He, Rex, was a beautiful collie that decided he loved the noise and laughter from the Haynes house more than he loved his own house, so he would come hang out every day. As soon as his owners would let him out in the morning, he made a bee line for our front door. Rex stayed with us all day and would have to be coaxed home with food each evening. One day, his owners said, "Why don't you just keep him? He loves ya'al and seems happy to be with you, so if you want him, he's yours." First time I was ever adopted by an animal!

Pepe Lapeu Hudson Haynes came into our lives in the spring of '78. He was a Cockapoo who did not like the idea of being some nice, pampered pet. He wanted the rough and tumble like of a ghetto dog. LOL I would take him to be groomed and he would come home and hide under the bed and refuse to go out. He hated the blue bows and toe nail polish! Pepe loved to run and play with the boys... he could be seen following the bicycle, or running interference in a street football game. Where ever the kids were playing, Pepe was right in the middle of it. When Pepe was about 2 years old, a car followed him into the ditch on the side of the road and killed him. A car load of teens thought it was "cute" to run over the little guy in front of the kids he loved to play with.

After Pepe, John came home with a black mixed breed we named Shadow. Now, Shadow was quite a dog. He was John's dog and would follow Johnny anywhere. They walked hogs together; they walked steer together; they played sandlot football together; they annoyed other people together... You name it: John and Shadow did it together. Shadow left this world in the fall. He sat near the north end of the yard facing the wind with John at his back.

Then we had Tigger, Jason's pit bull: by far the sweetest dog we ever owned. Now, to set the record straight, Tigger hated cats and would chase them up the tree--literally, he would climb the tree about four feet before falling, but he would certainly try to get them in the tree. He did, however, love my poodles. Silver, the male, and Adrian, the pup, were his favorites. Adrian could climb all over his head---in and out of his mouth--and he would never become angry or frustrated. He was gentle with Booger and David, who were both quite young at the time. Truly, a remarkable dog---one that did not live up to the reputation of the breed. He was stolen one night and, as we found out later, taken to fight another pit. He did not win...

Casper, David's American bull dog, was so named because he was solid white, except for one small dark marking. Casper loved David and came into his life at a time when David was going through a dark and painful time. A friendly and loving dog who brought much joy. He, too, was later stolen and taken to fight. He did not win either... Why do people do this with dogs???

Zeus is the newest member to add to this list. He is a two year old golden retriever: Ninety four pounds of love. Zeus's former owner was being deployed to Iraq and Zeus needed a home. I fell in love with him and brought him home to share life with me and Babi, my nearly blind Zhi Tzu. Zeus loves to play and sit at my feet. In fact he is laying at my feet while I type this. He sleeps on his large doggy pillow next to my bed and keeps me company throughout the night. One evening a few weeks ago, just before school was out, I flung myself across the bed and had a huge melt down. I cried and wailed: my retirement was heavy on my mind and the break up with the man I had fallen in love with was just too much on this particular night. I needed a hug! I needed someone to talk to... and there was Zeus. This crazy loveable dog kept pushing his head under my hand trying to get me to pet him. Each time I pulled my hand away, he would push his head back under my hand. Finally, I just left my hand on his head... I had him---my friend, my companion, and all would be well. Zeus, you are nothing like the Marley in the movie tonight because you are so well behaved...
lol. As I was thinking that earlier, I found a bookmark in his mouth. No ordinary bookmark! This bookmark had been given to me by my grand daughter a couple years ago and was a fuzzy, dog shaped bookmark. Tonight, it is in pieces next to Zeus... marley????

Billy--my new trainer

2011-06-13T20:56:00.000-07:00

Here it is 10 days into my retirement and all I have done is have more fun than a person should be allowed to have. I have made a trip to the valley (home), had lunch with friends, and spent a lot of time with the youngest of my grand children. Looking forward to July because Brook and JP will be home from Germany for a spell and, hopefully, we will all be able to spend some time with them. There is nothing in the world greater than family, unless it is friends that have become like family.

Tomorrow is Claudette's birthday, and it seems like just yesterday that I was sitting there watching a Sunday night movie about Saint Bernadette, when my mother convinced me to go to the hospital---just in case. A beautiful, precious gift from God was born. Happy birthday Baby Girl!

Billy Flores
I first met Billy Flores in November of 2010. I had stopped by the gym to do some walking and weights in preparation for my trip to Utah. (After all, I had skiing on my mind!) I was using one of the machines when this truly buffed young man walks up to me and said, "Let me show you a better way to do that." He told me to move my hands in toward the middle of the bar before pulling it down. I did and, of course, it was much easier. I asked him why the hand grips were so far out and he said, "watch." He put his hands on the grips and pulled the weighted bar down with ease. "Do you see the length of my arms compared to yours?" I laughed! We started talking and I discovered a remarkable young man beneath the muscles.

Billy had been in an accident several years ago that nearly took his life. He broke the odontoid and C1 and C2 of his neck, and suffered a traumatic brain injury. Once he was able to recognize people and understand what was being said, he was told he would never be able to lift weights again. He said he determined to get better and back to his weights. We talked at length about the similarity between his broken neck and my son, David's. The determination both had, coupled with prayer is amazing. I mentioned that he needed to write his story and share it with others. He smiled and said that he has trouble focusing for long periods, so how in the world was he going to sit long enough to write anything, let alone remember the way to write. That is where I come in, I smiled.

I didn't see Billy again until the end of May 2011. I needed a trainer to whip this old body into shape so that the girl inside this old shell would at least feel like there was some hope. lol I called to see if he were at the gym and, if I could talk to him, and he said to come on over. And, that is how it began. I am so sore today; I feel as if I have jumped from a perfectly good airplane and landed hard... and, my last session was Saturday! I have another session tomorrow, and I cringe, a little, thinking of what may transpire.

Talking with him as we train has given me some insight into what makes him tick. He is a former Airborne Ranger, and as Jason has told me, "Mom, he really knows how to hurt a person." LOL But, with the discipline that comes from special forces and his determination to come back from a near fatal accident, I am convinced he is the one God has put in my path for such a time as this. Hopefully, two things will come from this partnership: 1. I will be in better physical condition than I have been in years, and 2. I will be able to write his story.

So, here's to Billy Flores--- a young man who has suffered tremendously and come out on top because God has a plan for his life.

Tomorrow---- Boogerisms. :-)

A Thankful Heart

2011-06-12T21:55:00.000-07:00

I was looking through some of the "pages" I used to send out after moving to the hill country and decided to share this one with everyone. There are many of them. and I may share others as time warrants. This one was written November 23rd, 2005. God is so great, and greatly to be praised.

It will soon be Thanksgiving morn, and there are many thoughts running through this mother's mind right now. I am thankful for so many things, but mostly for the opportunity to know and serve our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Without Him I would be nothing and anything that I might possess would be meaningless.

I am thankful for each of my children and their families. From the time David was a baby, I have called them my seven wonders. Truly beautiful and talented each and everyone of them. Where has the time flown?

I am thankful for my brothers and the beautiful woman we called Mom. She is at home in heaven, but she has certainly left her mark on our lives.

I am thankful for the church families I have had over the years. From the early years at Royalwood Pentecostal Chruch, through the years at Faith Tabernacle, amid the healing years at Rio Hondo Baptist, and the short time at Shoreline, God has had His hand on my life. To all of those beautiful people who have helped shape me into the Christian I am today, thank you.

I am thankful for all of my friends. Where would one be without friends to share with, to laugh with, and to sometimes cry with? To those who were there during the darkest days and those who were there when the sun began to shine, thank you from the bottom of my heart.

I am thankful for the principal who believed in me enough to give me my first teaching job. For proving to me that there are no bad kids, just some who are more challenging. And for every principal who came after, thank you for the opportunity to work with the most beautiful people in this world---our kids.

I am thankful for the years I have spent in the various places that I have been blessed to call home. I am especially thankful for the years spent in Rio Hondo. It was there that I became ME. To some that may sound strange, but for so long I was not me, I was the shadow of someone else. Through trial and error, joy and pain, I discovered that I am crafted by the hand of God and I love Him for His goodness to me.

I am thankful for my new career move and the truly wonderful commute to work each day. I am overwhelmed by the sheer beauty of the Texas Hill Country. The sun, moon, and stars have taken on a whole new beauty. The tears that flood my eyes on a daily basis are certainly tears of joy.

I am thankful for my country: from sea to shining sea. We are all blessed to live in such a wonderful country and, hopefully, we, as a country, will begin acting like we appreciate it. We can disagree without being vengeful and spiteful.

I am thankful for the young men and women who are defending our freedoms. Young men and women who will not gather with family and friends this Thanksgiving Day, but who will sit inside a tent or a building on foreign soil eating MREs or food from a care package.

I am thankful for the promise of a better tomorrow, either here or in heaven. I am thankful for the steps of my life that the Lord has ordered. And I am thankful for EMAIL, because it gives me opportunity to say to all I know and care about, "Thank you for the blessing you have been to me. May God richly reward you for all the kindnesses you have shown to me." HAVE A HAPPY THANKSGIVING

Musings I

2011-06-08T16:50:00.000-07:00

     I have been retired for six days. I do not think the reality of it has set in yet. Life goes on... It is not my desire to sit! I believe there is more out there that I am being called to do, so the quest begins. In the mean time I will write about the memories that I hold near and dear: some very pleasant, some not so pleasant.   The first is of Tom and his clock.

     Tom came into my life the first day of school his freshman year. A very complex young man, but one who stole my heart. He had the appearance of one who might feel the need to exhibit a tough exterior but, in reality, he was as gentle as a lamb.
     He sat in the last seat in the second row from my desk: one that backed up to the wall. He did his work most of the time, and always wore a grin on his face. He was not one to talk as much as the others, but he was far from shy. He just had little to say. About two weeks into the year, I was nearing the end of my lesson for the day and knew it would be time for the bell soon, so I looked towards the clock only to see that it had stopped. WHAT??? As I was standing there gawking at that clock like an idiot, Tom began to smile and smile big! Looking at his left hand I noticed he had the cord to the clock held tightly in his fist. That little rascal had unplugged the clock! I said nothing as I looked to my wrist and checked the time.
    In just a matter of seconds, the bell rang and the students began collecting their things in preparation to leave. Tom stood and plugged the clock in and took it off the wall to reset the time. Neither of us said a word. I just matched his smile as he left the room.
     In the days and weeks that followed this became the norm. I never saw him unplug the clock that entire year, but I did watch, daily, as he would plug it back in and reset the time. It became our "little joke." When the year came to an end, the students left for the summer and we all went about our business. Tom was taken from us that summer in a tragic manner. The horror of his leaving created a hole in my heart.
     The following year, I watched over Tom's clock. No one touched it! When we moved to our new high school I asked to take the clock to my new classroom. That clock went to every classroom I used while in Rio Hondo. It hung on the back wall silently passing time until Travis accidentally pulled it down. From that day on it was no longer silent. It kept perfect time, but when the class was quiet, the clock was not. Tom's presence may not have been seen, but it was certainly heard. Love you Tom and may God bless your beautiful family with peace.