So, I read something that inspired me.

And it made me smile.

And it made me teary.

Because it's about my family.

It's about the hero of our family...my dad's big brother, my Uncle Berry Lee.  My dad's "Bubba."

I read my dad's words about his Bubba on a day that lots and lots of families in Oklahoma lost loved ones and homes, and experienced moments of terror.  So, probably, I was waxing extra nostalgic about family.

(Okay, this is when you go read it, too.  Go on--go read.  I'll wait on ya!)

My dad's words are especially meaningful because they explain a little bit of why my family is so special:  You see, we had a hero--years and years before I was even born.  Our family owes so much to my Uncle Berry Lee, who gave my dad love, encouragement, and a faith that has saved us.

When I am feeling especially sentimental about family, I sometimes wonder why I get to be blessed with such a wonderful family?  Why did I get loving parents when other kids get abusive parents...or some orphans, who have no one to tell them they're wonderful and loved and wanted?

Why was my family blessed with a rich and grace-filled faith, when others are born into families who don't believe anything...or even worse--believe in a faith that encourages abuse, intimidation, and hatred?

It's not that my big extended family doesn't have problems.  Oh, we've got 'em.  We've pretty much experienced all the icky problems that humans face.  

But, even in the midst of these problems--the anger and resentment and judgment and desperation and sadness--we still have that little voice inside us, that voice that says, "No matter what, my family loves me."

So, why do we get to feel each other's love?  Why do we get to have a loving family, when others do not?  Why did we get a hero?

I don't have the answer.  

BUT, the other day, as I was reading my dad's words, the answer that came to me very clearly was,

"BE somebody's hero.  If you don't have a "Bubba" writing you letters and being your hero--then BE somebody else's hero.  YOU BE THE HERO."

It really doesn't take that much effort to become somebody's hero.  Spend some time.  Speak a few encouraging words.  Tell him the truth.  Tell him he's wonderful and loved and wanted.  Write him a letter.

So, today, these are my words for you:  Please, please--for the sake of our big and disaster-filled world--please BE somebody's hero today.  

And be their hero tomorrow and the day after, too.

You never know how much your encouragement can mean.  Our family has learned how much it can mean...even generation after generation.

Thank you, Uncle Berry Lee.  Thank you.

(My mom's family is pretty amazing, too.  I'll tell that story another day:  I'll tell you all about George and Virginia.)

We told him, "Of course" and said he could stay as long as he needed.  

We got the guest room ready, and waited--not really knowing how we'd find our friend once he arrived.

His arrival seemed pretty normal.  He pulled up in his Texas-sized truck, wearing his usual jeans and cowboy boots.  We hugged and exchanged the typical "how was your trip?" small talk.  We made our way to the kitchen table, where I'm sure I offered him something to eat and drink.

There, at our kitchen table, our friend explained in a quiet voice how messed up he'd gotten.  He told us that he'd checked himself out of rehab, and started driving towards Branson for help.  

Now, I should tell you a couple of things here.  First of all, I am keeping much of this story vague--because it is not my story to tell.  The only reason I even mentioned his checking himself out of rehab is so I can BRAG on how AMAZINGLY BRAVE he is!  I'm not sure I've ever been PROUDER of someone than I am of this friend, who has been sober for several years now.  (I wish you could see the big goober smile on my face as I write these words!  See?  I'm proud.)

Second, I should tell you that our friend headed to Branson for not only our help--he had a couple of friends here that he was reaching out to.  We certainly cannot take the credit for helping him.  Which, is really funny that I'm even saying that--because GOD gets all the credit anyway.  This story is all about God's kindness and redemption.

Now, I've given you a whole lot of background information to tell you this:  The whole time our friend was staying with us, and getting his life back together, I felt this burden, this burning desire to be able to ENCOURAGE our friend...to TELL HIM just the right things that would make everything better...to COUNSEL HIM in just the way he needed to get healing.

But, guess what?

No matter HOW MUCH I prayed for God to give me the words to say to him...

No matter how many great things I thought of to tell him...

No matter how strongly I felt about certain things I wanted to ask him...

God kept telling me one thing:  Be quiet.  

Over and over again I felt God was telling me not to give one word of counsel, and even not to ask any leading questions.  I sensed God was telling me that this was Dave's time to counsel, and Dave's turn to talk and share in this particular situation.

Oh sure, I chatted with our friend a lot.  We talked every single day, and some days I even got to listen as he chose to share about his struggles.  We talked about books and movies and history and the South.  

I loved our daily chats.  But, so many times I felt helpless towards our struggling friend.  Here he was--living in our guest bedroom--and yet, I couldn't say anything or do anything to help him.

Ah.  But, one day, God helped me see how I COULD help our friend...how I already WAS helping our friend:  I could make him turkey sandwiches.

I'd already been feeding our friend daily, but just never thought of that as a way of helping.  But, God showed me that by FEEDING our friend, I was helping to FEED his SOUL.

From that day on, I saw my meal preparations as the way that I was helping our friend recover.  I was feeding his body, and his soul.

From that day on, I took great delight in piling on the turkey extra-high, as if our friend could feel my encouragement and love in those bites of turkey sandwiches.  I stopped feeling helpless in staying quiet, and started finding great joy in my daily meal (and turkey sandwich!) preparations.

How about you?  Do any of you find yourselves in a situation where you feel inadequate to help a friend or family member?  If so, I encourage you to look for ways different than just telling or counseling.

Sometimes, now matter what words you want to share--eloquent and sensible as they may be--sometimes, words fall upon deaf ears.

Sometimes, a friend isn't ready to hear.

Or, sometimes, someone else needs to do the talking and sharing.

Sometimes, the very best thing you can do--is make a nice, thick turkey sandwich.

I sure hope the next time you are preparing a meal--for your family, or for a friend--that you remember:  You're not just feeding a body; you may also be feeding a soul.

So, please be sure to pile on that turkey--extra high!

Okay, not technically my baby girl...  But, she was my baby girl just 14 years ago.  And, oh, what a sweet and dreamy baby she was.  My little (or not so little!) fuzzy blond-haired baby girl.

Happy 13th birthday, my Becca Boo!  You are a delight, and a treasure to our family!  In honor of your birthday today...

10 Things We LOVE About You:

1.  You have a kind heart, and your smile lights up the room!

2.  You love Jesus, and want to please Him.

3.  You make us laugh every single day.

4.  You care deeply about others, and are always encouraging them.

5.  You love spending time with your grandparents and aunts and uncles and cousins.

6.  You have an amazing memory.  Sometimes, it even freaks us out your memory is so good.  

7.  You do GREAT impersonations.  (See #3 above)

8.  You're humble, and you never expect too much.

9.  You have a grateful heart.

10.  You are a wonderful big sister...even when you don't feel like being wonderful.  :-)

    

Happy birthday, our sweet girl!  We love you with all of our hearts, and are GRATEFUL that God chose us to be your parents!

For He is risen!

(Please please CRANK UP THE VOLUME before you push play!  I promise you'll be glad you did!)

Happy Easter, dearest readers!  I'm sorry I've been so quiet lately...but I must admit, the break in writing has been much needed.

Now, go ye forth and CELEBRATE the BEST NEWS IN THE WHOLE WORLD!!!  He is risen!!!!  Celebrate with chocolate eggs, deviled eggs, Honeybaked ham and mashed potatoes, and plenty of yellow and hot pink Peeps.

Get it?  

Upcoming Spring Break = Spring Break video on my blog

Anyway, enjoy.  I don't know if you've seen any of these kids' videos, but I just wasted spent about an hour watching about a hund'erd million of 'em.

May all of your Spring Breaks be as AWESOME as this one...

(If you cannot view the video below, click here.)

So, what are you doing Spring Break?

Because I sure do.

I did earlier today, and I do again tonight.

Wow.  How's that for Telling Your Truth Tuesday?

Well, why the heck not tell the truth?  The perfection I see on Facebook and Instagram and Twitter gets exhausting.  I prefer real any old day.

So, my real for today is this:  I value relationship over task.  In Bible circles, this could be defined by saying that I'm much more "Mary" than "Martha."  

That all sounds really great in theory...but in practice?  I feel like a failure.

I know there are little plaques and refrigerator magnets that say something along the lines of...Kids will remember what you DO with them much more than HOW CLEAN your house was.

But, guess what?  Your neighbor remembers the messy house.

The messy house which must mean the mama is lazy or undisciplined or scatterbrained.

Or, the worst assumption of all...a messy housekeeper.  *sigh*

I try.  I try to tell my brain that my kids will grow up feeling loved.  They will remember having fun.  They'll remember getting to roller skate through the house, having picnics in the living room, and getting to make messy magical potions out of the spice cabinet.

But...sadly, they'll probably also remember Mama's INTENSE stress level to clean the house when company's coming over.  

Because, even though I value relationship over task, I still have a brain.  And I still feel like a failure when someone sees my messy house.

So, I have to YELL and STRESS and FREAK OUT a little (okay, a lot!) in order to get this messy house magically all tidy before guests come over.

And that is my truth for today.

In other news...Since I have no company planning to come over tomorrow...tonight, I am going to bed with a MESSY house.  Yes, I sure am.

Feeling like a failure really zaps the energy right out of ya.  And nothing helps failure-feeling like a fresh, and rested perspective.

And, who knows?  Maybe the cleaning fairies will visit overnight...

What are you feeling like a failure about today?

(Or, am I the only one?)

(insert wild screaming and shouting here)

Okay, not really.  I am not sure I have EVER wildly screamed or shouted in my entire life.  Well, except maybe on that county fair ride from the devil.  I think it was called The Zipper. Such an innocent-sounding name for a ride that the devil invented.  I remember thinking inside that small and smelly cage that kept rolling and rolling and rolling over and over again--all the while heavy metal music was BLASTING out the speakers, "What if this thing never stops?  This is exactly how BAD hell could be."

Upside down rides are not my thing.  But, twirl me around, and I will squeal and giggle like a smiley 6-year-old.  Anybody wanna ride the Tilt-a-Whirl or the Scrambler with me?  And can we please please please get a giant cone of pink cotton candy?  Nothing says "county fair" to me like some cotton candy.

Okay, enough about the carnival life.  Let's get with some links already!

Oh. My. Word.  The Honest Toddler makes me LAUGH OUT LOUD.  The recent letter to the Juice CEO was no exception.  That little toddler--he's a FUNNY ONE!  Read it and tell me you don't laugh out loud!!

I LOVE this family art project!  We are totally making one of these canvases.

Okay, since we're on the subject of things to make...Oh. My. Word.  This Pinterest Challenge Link-up on Young House Love blog (which I LOVE) is almost like Pinterest on Crack Cocaine.  Dang.  I could spend hours and hours just clicking on all the links...  Look at me--sharing my addiction with YOU!  (Be sure to scroll down far enough to find all the link-ups!)

Okay, you ready for some serious?  Here are a couple of serious reads lately that made me THINK.  Sometimes (not always), it's nice to think.

Grace.  I love that word.  But, do I really love it for everyone?  Everyone?  This letter to Lance Armstrong made me ask such a question...

Wow.  I kept reading this post to the very end...because I HAD to find out the "why" in "Why she stopped telling the stories..."  I have to be honest--words like Abby's really stir something up inside of me.  I don't know what God is doing, but He is definitely stirring something up.

All right.  Enough linky links for now.  Go prop up your feet and eat some bon bons!  You've earned it--it's the WEEKEND, people!!!  Go ye forth and enjoy!

I started this blog for one reason, and as all blogs seem to do, mine has evolved over time.  Okay, so I'm going to be really transparent here.  I started this blog as an opportunity to make writing a part-time job--either with advertising opportunities on the blog, or from other writing opportunities.  

There, I said it.  Surely, a lot of you knew this already.  Why would anyone spend hours (yes, hours--plural) every day creating something...for free?

I have been struggling lately, wondering WHY I continue to write here, when my original goal has not been realized?  I mean, I don't have time for this kind of HOBBY.  Sure, this writing hobby is good for the soul.  Sure, it fulfills a creative need inside me.  I've recorded some wonderful family memories here these past 3 years.  And there have been a couple of writing opportunities.  Just not enough.

But, really, the bottom line is this:  I need a part-time job.  And this blogging gig isn't cutting it.  

And yet, for some reason, I haven't felt good about giving it up completely.

Then, I read words like these.  Words that begin with the most awesome title of all time:  The Parable of the Flying Naked Baby.

WHO could RESIST reading a story with a title like that?

(Go.  Go read the story NOW.)

Ah.  That is why I write.

Stories.

The stories.

I have been drawn to stories since I was a little girl at my Gram's Sunday table, listening to the adults' stories of "the old times," while nibbling on olives and pickles and sipping tea out of a sweaty green glass.

I have been staying up way too late reading stories in books since I was a little girl finishing Nancy Drew mysteries long after everyone else in the house was sound asleep.

For as long as I can remember, I've been a good listener--because I just love hearing people's "stories."

I don't watch t.v. shows, unless they have good stories. (Reality shows have stories, yes they do...I don't know about the "good" part, though!)  And I sure don't like reading non-fiction self-help books because, hello?, where's the story???

All of these rambling words to say this: I may not blog as often, or as much here.  But, I will continue writing...at least for now.  Because I want to have a place to tell my stories.

And maybe (hopefully) I will have the opportunity to tell the stories God is writing in my life.

And those are the most important stories of all!

I don't like to make a big deal out of things around here, so I didn't say anything before-hand, but last week I went under the knife.  

I just love how dramatic that sounds!

UNDER. THE. KNIFE.  dun-dun-dunnnnnn.

I hate even mentioning what kind of surgery I had...because it just sounds, I don't know, old lady-ish, or weird.  But, if I DON'T mention it--you're all going to think it was--*said in a whisper*--"a feminine procedure."

Okay, so here it is.  I had 2 abdominal hernia repairs.  "Abdominal hernia" sounds so much better than just plain old "hernia," wouldn't you agree?  Regular hernias make me think of man surgery.  *Shiver.*

 I have had these abdominal hernias since the last time I was big and pregnant--with that little cutie pie in the picture above.  She is now 8.  And remember--I have BIG babies.

 And big babies = making a war zone of your abdomen.

Now, I realize that I might be weird.  But, I just love the whole process of surgery!  Don't get me wrong--I don't like the pain of surgery.  It's just everything else I like.

I love checking into the hospital on the day of surgery, and feeling like everybody is there for ME.  I know that sounds really narcissistic, but for a girl who normally tries to stay in the background of things, being the center of caring attention for a day is kind of nice.

(See, I told you I am weird.)

I check in, and the nice retired man volunteer greets me, and tells me my nurse will be right out to get me.  Then, a cheerful nurse greets me and escorts me back to my very own space--a comfy electric bed in my own little curtained-off area.

The nurse gives me a nightgown to wear, and then comes in to check on me once I'm lying down in my electric bed.  She offers me a drink and something to help me "relax a little"--via an I.V. needle.  ("Just a prick," she said. OW!  Not relaxing, by the way.)  Then she brings me a warmed-up blanket and tucks me up nice and tight into my bed.  

A warmed up blanket, people.  As in--somebody cooked it in the oven--JUST FOR ME!

Then, all these nice people come in to visit with me!  A anesthesiologist comes in to chat with about my drug allergies and my doctor comes in and draws little pictures on my abdomen (okay, lines.)  And everybody that comes in asks me if I have questions.  That's just so nice to ask my opinion of everything!

I even get to take a little tour of the hospital hallways and elevator as the nurse takes me on a ride--IN MY BED!  At one point, in the MAIN foyer of the hospital, I look around to see if I know anyone.  I have a small moment of panic as I try to huddle beneath my covers.  I'm not sure they'd recognize me, though, in my blue paper shower cap and hospital nightgown.

 When we wheel into the surgical suite, I feel like I am on stage.  There are huge bright lights above me, and a whole audience dressed in powder blue scrubs.  Every single person in the room greets me, and is introduced.  

I feel like a surgical rock star!

And seriously--everyone is just so nice and friendly.

One of the last thoughts I have before gently falling asleep is how MANY people are here in the surgical suite--JUST FOR ME!  They're all here and being friendly and helpful--for me!

And then I think..."Ooohhhh.  That is why I am being charged $12,000 for today."

You people can just call me a celebrity now.

Because last Tuesday, I paid $12,000 for super-star treatment!  

And, let me tell you--it was worth every single penny.

(Okay, maybe that's an exaggeration.  But, the people WERE really nice.)

This past weekend was everything I love about weekends--laid back, with family (could have been better if EVERYONE was there!!!), happy kids, beautiful weather, some good old fashioned late-night television watching with my sister, and some yummy food.

Well.  I guess I should end this post now.  Because, what else is to tell?  I've already told everything we did this weekend in one simple sentence.

Too bad that I can never be that brief when describing something.  'Cause y'all KNOW I hafta tell more!  

I just cannot help myself.

Let me tell you how we started the weekend.  Better yet--let me SHOW you:

Amen.  And Aaaaaa-men.

A belated birthday cake from the world universe-famous Rick's Bakery in Fayetteville, AR. Okay, who knows if the Martians know about Rick's...  But, in case you guys haven't heard me rave about Rick's amazing baked goods, I'll just tell you--his cakes and cookies are dee-licious!

And, the fact that my cake has fairy sparkles sprinkled on top just makes me h-a-p-p-y!

After over-dosing on sugary birthday cake, the cousins put on their swimsuits quicker than you can say, "DON'T RUN IN THE HOTEL HALLWAY!!! AND QUIT SCREAMING ON THE ELEVATOR!!" and headed to their grandparents' hotel pool for some swim time.  The ladies (my mom, sister, and I) took one for the team and sat in the 100% hot and muggy pool room and chatted happily.

We rounded up the worn out, but still hyper kids and headed to my sister's house for the night.  After finally getting the kids all snuggled into beds, the adults retired to recliners and the cozy couch.  My sister always has great stuff DVR'ed for my visits, and we always look forward to this time of night!  We love to watch and chat, watch and chat, and chat and chat and chat.  Sometimes until 2:30am!!  Yikes.  But, I will admit that a very late night sure makes the next day's afternoon nap on the couches that much sweeter!

You know what else makes an afternoon nap sweeter?  A big ole' slice of Rick's birthday cake right beforehand.  That way, the sugar crash leads you right into naptime.  Per-fection!

On Saturday, there was a little shopping, with a little "WHERE is my wallet???" mixed in at the Justice checkout counter, followed by a little, "Will you please HOLD these things while I go home to retrieve the wallet that SOMEONE took out of my purse this morning?"

Are you detecting any frustration there?  I have no idea why!  Because who wouldn't just love to fight the long line of glazed-eyed parents holding hoochie-mama sparkly sweats and flashdance shirts that their lip glossed daughters have begged them for?

Oh, but wait!  I said this weekend was laid-back.  And it was.  Just a momentary lapse--that a yummy lunch of chicken salad and tortilla soup at Jason's Deli can't take care of.

(See!  I TOLD YOU that I cannot tell a brief description of my weekend!  Next thing you know I'll be telling you WHAT WE ATE.  Oh yeah...just did that!  Check.)

Saturday night was a Moriah Peters and Tenth Avenue North concert.  Dave took Rebecca and her cousin to see Moriah.  If you don't know about Moriah--please check her out!  She is WONDERFUL!!!  She is an up-and-coming Christian singer, who has an AMAZING voice.  

AND an amazingly sweet personality.  She and Rebecca met at a small event last year, and ever since, she has been like a big sister.  She encourages our girls, and even contacts them when she is giving a concert nearby.

This time was no exception to her kindness and encouragement.  She asked our girls to come early Saturday to see her.  Once Rebecca got there, she got to help Moriah set up her merchandise table, and ended up working her table all night long.  

I don't know if you remember being 11 and 12 years old, but getting to work the "Merch Table" at a concert of a singer you love is HUGE!!!!  Rebecca and her cousin came home afterwards just chattering away about the whole evening, telling us every single detail.   Needless to say, they had an unforgettable night!  

Of course, both girls came home with lots of concert goodies.  Here's Rebecca--with her favorite item she brought home from the Merch Table: (No, no...NOT the head with the freakishly long neck!)

During the concert, Sara Beth and her "little brother" cousin chose to stay home.  Us "homies" picked up some pizza and watched a fun movie (Journey to the Center of the Earth).  We all snuggled 4-across on the couch, and giggled together at the funny parts of the movie.

Sunday, we went to church together, and then out to lunch.  (I am going to refrain from telling you what we ate.  You're welcome.)  

I told my sister and brother-in-law that we were giving them a big gift--we were leaving right after lunch so they could get AFTERNOON NAPS.  Nothing says "I love you" like leaving before naptime!

So, that's it.  That's our weekend.  

And my pitiful 4 pictures.

What did you do this past weekend?