Dear Grandpa Jones,

Dear Grandpa Jones,

You were always a good storyteller. You took every opportunity to tell stories to us grand kids. In fact, you would tell stories to just about anyone who would listen. It didn't take much to get you started. Then once you started, it would often lead into about six more stories. Sometimes we giggled at that, but deep down we really did enjoy listening to you. Stories of your childhood, your life with Granny, raising six kids, working your way through medical school, becoming a doctor in Baldwin City Kansas, preaching the gospel, reaching out to people. Stories of love, stories of hardship, stories of grace - yes, grace. Always peppered with grace.

Hands down, my all time favorite story you told was how you met Granny. (I'm a romantic, what can I say?) You would always start the story with, "Edna and I met in the Dallas County Jail." That usually got everyone's attention. Then you would proceed to tell how you were there to preach and she was there to sing. You knew you wanted to marry her the moment you saw her. She fainted that day. It was due to the heat, not necessarily your charm (too bad - that would have made for a fun story!)

Then there is the story of your salvation. How as a 18 year-old in the Navy, someone from the Navigators shared with you the good news of the gospel. You accepted it. You embraced it. For the first time in your life, you had a Father who loved you. It changed your life. You, in turn, sought out to change the lives of others in the same way.

The stories of you and Granny raising your six kids always entertain me. Then hearing my father and my aunt and uncles re-tell those stories from their perspective is a hoot. Mischief and the resulting spankings, money getting tight, family devotions around the kitchen table - some stories make us laugh while some cause us to learn. (Teach and Tickle moments, you might say.)

I miss your stories Grandpa.

You've been in and out of hospital beds for three months now. It came as a shock to all of us. Three months ago, you were in nearly perfect health. In fact, you saw patients that morning in your clinic. Then you went home for lunch and... boom, you end up in the ER. They tell us it was a subdural hemorrhage. Surgeries, a trach, feeding tubes, and all kinds of equipment put a halt to your stories. You still offer us your huge smile, hugs, winks, waves and plenty of kisses for Granny. But the stories have stopped.

Nowadays we listen to stories from others. We listen to all the visitors who come and wish you the best. We listen to the doctors who sometimes offer little hope. We listen to your former patients who praise the way you took care of them. We savor the way your daughter Ruthie summarizes each day on your Caring Bridge site. We listen to the nurses who worked along side you over the years in the hospital. They compliment your history of loving your patients. They compliment your spunk, your skill, and even your clothing style (always wearing a starched shirt and tie with your shiny black shoes! They obviously even noticed the little things.)

Most of all, we take comfort in the stories of the Bible. Stories of hope, grace, peace, rest and eternal life. Stories of His sovereignty in all things. Stories we know you treasured more than any others.

More than anything, Grandpa, we want to hear you tell stories again. But there is a great Story-writer in heaven who may have other plans. Whether it be today or two years from now, someday you will walk into His presence. He'll put his arm around your shoulder as you walk and talk. You won't need your hearing aid. You won't have to read lips. I can just imagine Him pulling you aside and saying "let me tell you some stories about one of my good and faithful servants."

You'll blush when you realize He's telling stories about you.

We'll keep telling those stories too.

I love you, Grandpa!

Kelly

Granny and Grandpa at their 60th Wedding Anniversary one year ago.

Granny and Grandpa (in the center) with all the kids, grandkids and great-grandkids.

I'm taking a break...

Good morning bloggers.

I need a break. I need to stop reading blogs. I need to stop writing blogs. I need to stop checking facebook. I need to stop checking analytics. I need to stop. At least for a bit.

I need to stop and be still for a bit.

"Be still and know that I am God." That's what He said. That's what I'll do. I'll be back in a week...

Coincidentally (I think not), the Lord directed the following song to play for me this morning:

You Alone by Sam Perry (from the Best of Passion album) Click HERE to listen to a sample.

You are the only one I need
I bow all of me at Your feet
I worship You alone

You have given me more than
I could ever have wanted
I want to give you my heart and my soul

You alone are Father
You alone are good
You alone are Savior
You alone are God

I'm alive I'm alive

I'm alive I'm alive

See you in a week...

Pay it Forward: Or in other words...get free donuts, witness a burglary, notify the police, catch a thief

After dropping Jonah off for his first day of school last week, I took Hannah on a little mommy/daughter date to our favorite donut shop. Kim's Donut shop doesn't just make donuts. They create works of art. Seriously. I once took a picture of my donut because it looked so pretty.

See?

A donut that looks this good is bound to taste good. Mmmm.

Well anyhoo, this time when we showed up at Kim's donut shop, we ordered and got ready to pay and a man came up to the register and told me to put my money away. He then proceeded to pay the cashier for my donuts and chocolate milk. He told us that someone once paid for his donuts and he wanted to do the same for someone else. He told the cashier to keep the change and then he left. I thanked him as he left, but I was a little taken back so I may not have thanked him very enthusiastically. I explained to Hannah that the man was very kind and we had just been the beneficiaries of a random blessing. What a kind man. Weird, but kind. It's just not every day that random strangers do something nice just because someone once did something nice for them. Pay it forward, I guess.

I didn't plan on buying someone else's donuts in the future in order to continue "paying it forward." That's not really my cup of chocolate milk. I remember telling Hannah that maybe we should do something nice for someone else someday to continue the blessing. I pushed it aside.

Then today happened.

Today was Hannah's first day of Pre-K. To celebrate my kid-free day, I decided to meet Joey for lunch. We met up at the mall to walk around for a bit. I had to leave a little before Joey, so I walked out to the parking lot alone. I noticed that the back door of the empty Suburban next to my car was open. "Strange", I thought. As I started to get into my car, another car pulled up behind me. A man jumped out and into the back of the Suburban and took something. He then quickly jumped back into his car and sped off.

I witnessed a burglary, my friends. I-WITNESSED-A-BURGLARY.

As my moral fibers tend to stand on end when I see injustice, I quickly stepped back into the road and aimed my best scowl toward the fleeing car. (Because a scowl from a threatening person like me is enough to make a thief stop in his tracks.) I honestly don't know what I was thinking.

But I was thinking, because as the thief drove away in his white car, I read his license plate. Out loud. Over and over. I ran to my car to get a notepad and pen so I could write it down. My phone rang. I answered by shouting the license plate numbers into the phone. I was in Jack Bauer mode. Or better yet, Sidney Bristow mode.

I know the feeling of being robbed. It's no fun. It is a feeling of violation. I knew the owners of this Suburban would feel that violation soon. The least I could do would be to give them a head start to catching their thief. So I left them a note. I gave them all the info of what I witnessed, along with the license plate number, my name and phone.

Joey made it to the parking lot and called the police. I had to leave to pick up Hannah from school, and as I left the parking lot, a white car pulled out behind me. It followed me for about a mile while I tried not to think about it. I was still shaking. Thankfully, they turned off. Probably not the same white car, but it sure got my heart pumping.

About an hour and a half later, I got a call from the Police. It sounded like they had someone in custody. The officer had watched the surveillance tapes and he confirmed the burglary. He asked me to be a witness and I agreed.

I'll probably never meet the owners of that Suburban. They may or may not get their stuff back. I don't expect a thank you. They were violated today and that has to hurt. The best I can hope for them is that they won't believe the whole world is corrupt like the thief who stole their stuff; that they will recognize that some random stranger did something nice for them... just because. Maybe it was because some stranger did something nice for her one day. Some day, in their own way, they may get the chance to do something nice for someone else. Pay it forward.

The thief is on my mind tonight. My prayer for him is not that he get some kind of reverse negative pay it forward. No, my prayer for him is the same for all sinners. That he, like me, would recognize that he is a sinner in need of a Savior. That he would experience grace and forgiveness. That getting caught today would serve as his wake-up call. Scripture shares a bit about the two thieves crucified on either side of Christ. One responded in humility, admitting his sin and asking for Christ's forgiveness. The other responded in pride, mocking others and rejecting Christ. Today's thief has the same choice. I pray he makes the right one.

Fantastic Family Fun

We celebrated the last week of summer by enjoying a week with the entire family at Table Rock Lake in Branson, MO. This is our little cabin in the woods:

The thing we liked best about this place was the basement. All (or mostly all) the cousins stayed together in the basement. They had a blast together. The boys shared one room with a bunk bed and queen bed. The girls shared the other room with a king size bed. One morning, I went downstairs to find them all lined up in the king bed in the girls room watching cartoons. Cute.

Abigail and Hannah were pretty much inseparable the entire week.

The week included a couple trips to Moonshine Beach to swim and make sand castles. Of course, some people can't seem to take their minds off work while away. My hubby worked very diligently on this sand tooth:

One day we rented a pontoon boat and a jet ski so we could putt around on the lake. Fun times. I got to take both kids on the jet ski together. I got a kick out of the ride because Hannah kept shouting "slow down! slow down" while Jonah cheered "faster! faster!" Such a hoot. Joey and I even went for a nice romantic ride on the jet ski together. Ha! His primary goal was to go so fast and turn so quick that I would fly off the thing. He succeeded. We both tipped over. Silly boys and their unusual attempts to impress us girls. :)

Micah found this little hiding spot on the pontoon boat.

Caleb celebrated his second birthday while on this trip. He really liked his cake.

Hudson didn't shave the entire trip and grew an unusually premature mustache:

Of course, there were numerous trips to Silver Dollar City. Good times.

Then, of course, there were meals. Countless meals. Way too much food. Way too much fun. I love the character showing itself in each of the kids in this photo:

Thank you Grammy and Papa for treating us to this cabin in the woods! Thank you Tom, April, Anna, Abigail, Micah, Ezra, Caleb, Kyle, Vanessa, Hudson, Jude and Isaac for being such a wonderful family and making our last vacation of the summer such a fun experience.

Two Things

First...

I added a few new books to the Children's section of the Books I Recommend. My most favorite book right now is The Jesus Storybook Bible. If you do not own this book, go buy it. Now. It approaches each story of the Bible with the big picture in mind. The subtitle says it all ~ Every Story Whispers His Name.

Second...

I added that thing called the "followers gadget" onto my sidebar. I don't know why I didn't want to add it before. I think the title "followers" scared me. I'm not sure I wanted anyone to "follow" me. I'm not worthy of being followed. I am just human and I make mistakes. No doubt, I will say things on this here blog that will be wrong, opinionated or make people upset. (Can I just apologize in advance now for any of those things?) But if we approach it in the light of "follow me as I follow Christ," I can handle that. Joey and I are just a couple of parents doing our best to teach and tickle our children and enjoy the moments when they teach and tickle us. If you enjoy following along with us in this journey, feel free to add your photo and link into the little "followers" gadget in the sidebar.

(Sept 5, 2009)UPDATE: I took the "followers" gadget off. Sorry. It's me, not you. You can still "subscribe" to the feed, whatever that means.

The Stuff We Store Up

The top drawer of my parent's bedroom dresser was always filled with cards, mementos, photos and such. Each one saved for a particular reason. Hand-made Father's Day cards from us kids. Doodles and sketches. A love note between my parents. I remember as a kid standing on my tip toes on the edge of my parents' water bed so I could get a peek inside the drawer. Even back then, it smelled of old paper and glue.

I wonder if it is all still there. The cards and notes we wrote. I wonder if I have added anything recently to the drawer. I wonder if my dad kept that card I gave him on my wedding day. I don't remember exactly what I wrote in it, but I do remember it somehow struck a chord. I gave it to him as we were waiting in the hallway before he walked me down the aisle. It made him cry. Which of course made me cry. We were both pretty much basket cases before the doors even opened for him to walk me down the aisle. Sorry dad. I almost hope that card didn't make it into the drawer.

Both end tables in my parents' living room were filled to the max with photo albums. We kept a ton of them back then. Mom did such a good job organizing them. I am so glad they took so many photos growing up. When I think about it, most my childhood memories revolve around a picture taken of that memory. I loved pouring over those photo books as a kid. I loved re-living memories and seeing how we all changed over the years. I loved making fun of my parents and their styles back in the 70's and 80's. I remember swearing I would NEVER wear bell bottom jeans like they did. Then I remember my humble realization when I bought my first pair of "flare leg" jeans, that I was utterly wrong.

If you sit around a kitchen table long enough with any number of my in-laws, you are bound to hear a story of days gone by. Fascinating stories. Or maybe just fascinating story tellers. They all know how to captivate a kitchen table with a good story or memory nobody can forget. It's their way of remembering. Repeating stories. We've all heard the stories over and over, but we like to hear them again and again... and again. Re-living them around the kitchen table has become in and of itself a memory of its own.

There is a box behind me in the office where I am typing that contains journals. Journals I wrote during junior high, high school, college and after. They are fun to read through once in a while. I've often wondered if my house were to catch fire, after getting the kids out, if I would risk my life (like they tell us not to) to go back into the house to get that box... and (come to think of it) my photo albums... and my stash of love notes between Joey and I... and my Bible.... and... oh, who am I kidding? I would totally be toast (literally) if I tried to salvage all the sentimental things from a burning house. I hope my house never catches fire. There are certain things you just try not to think about ever losing.

It's silly, really. The stuff we store up. The handmade cards. The photos. The stories. The journals. And then there are the really silly things we store up. For me, it is deodorant. Weird, I know. But due to my completely irrational (or maybe all too rational) fear of a possible terrorist attack or EMP bomb being detonated in the US and disabling all commerce, I started storing up (of all things) deodorant. Most sane people would store up food and items for basic survival. Not me. I'm more worried about stinking than eating, I guess. I just checked my bathroom cabinet. I have four deodorants there. See, here's the proof.

What is wrong with me? I must be a mental case. Just for kicks, I asked the kids the other day about this issue. I said, "Kids - if something were to happen and we could no longer go to the store to buy things, what would you hope that we would have stored up in our house?" Both of them initially responded with "God." They have obviously been around long enough to know that "God," "Obey" and "Love" are typically the correct answers to all mommy's serious questions. I told them that was cute and I was proud of them, but then pressed further and asked the question again.

This time Jonah said, "food and our house." Good for him. He is a basic food and shelter kind of guy. And obviously our realist.

Hannah's response was a little more flavorful. She started describing something really strange. She said "one of those bubble things with a heart in the center and then you turn it over and stuff falls down all around it." I guessed she was talking about a snow globe. I am pretty sure we don't own any snow globes. But she obviously thinks they are necessary for our survival in the case of a nuclear holocaust. I pressed further and asked her why she would want a snow globe. She said "Oh, you know. To remember the man you marry or something like that." Good for her. She is a dreamer and a romantic. And obviously our cloud floater.

Jonah and Hannah are 6 and 4. No doubt, within their lifetimes, they will often fluctuate between having both feet firmly on the ground to having their heads floating somewhere off in the clouds. I hope they continue to teach and tickle me during both of those times. And I hope I will keep recording those teach and tickle moments for a very long time.

While we were away on vacation last week (which I will blog about later), Teach and Tickle Volume 2 arrived in the mail. Yippie! See how excited we are:

Of course, using the photo booth on my computer to take that picture prompted all kinds of silliness with the computer camera. The kids spent a good deal of time yesterday afternoon taking pictures like these:

Those pictures gave us a pretty good tickle.

Pretty exciting stuff. The hard copy of year two of this blog, I mean, not necessarily the silly photos. Volume 2 will go on the shelf behind my desk in my office, somewhere near my box of journals. And someday when Jonah and Hannah arrive at adulthood, I will present them with their own copies of the books from over the years. Kind of a "Welcome to adulthood/Here is your childhood" kind of gift. Who knows? They may treasure them. They may not. (Side note to the future Jonah and Hannah: DON'T go running back into a burning house to get your copies of the Teach and Tickle books. I have extra copies. I did that just in case, you know... you inherit any of my crazy genes.)

With all these thoughts about stuff we store up, I woke up this morning wondering if God stores up anything. Revelation 5:7-9 says that he collects and stores our prayers. How precious is that? Kind of makes me want to spend more of my prayer time praising Him and His attributes instead of running through my list of "help me's." I've spent this morning in awe and wonder of my God who treasures my words of prayer so much that he collects them in golden bowls. May my prayers be transformed into an offering for Him, worthy of being stored up in heaven. And may my eyes be taken off of the temporal things of this earth, however sentimental they may be.

Matthew 6:19-21

"Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moth and rust do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also."

On the First Day of the First Grade

Jonah looked and acted a bit more confident than he did last year. No tears this year either.

...but still a bit nervous.

Now if I could just stop singing that silly Billy Joe Mcguffrey song...

Here I Raise my Ebenezer,,,and my kids.

by Joey

Okay, you crazy bloghers out there, here it is! But just remember the whole point of this blog is not to satisfy our narcissistic musings and gasconade our adventures to the world, but rather to thoughtfully and lovingly pass on to our children those stories, memories, and life lessons which are more accurately communicated through this sophisticated medium, which in today's ever-changing techy world is appropriate and necessary since (1) we don't have any working pens at our house (except that blue one that Hannah keeps using to "write" in her diary), and (2) our generation's attention span has been somewhat compromised rendering any attempt to make a lasting impression on our kids useless if an electronic device is not somehow involved.

So, if you're still there after that ridiculous run-on paragraph, congratulations! You've taken your first step into a larger world. At this point, you are welcome to listen over my shoulder as I address Jonah and Hannah, and I hope you don't mind my turning my back to you.

Kids, God has always provided for me. He has always comforted me. He has always been my source of joy and peace. He has always guided me. He has always given me the words to say. He has always been my sure and steadfast hope. He has always been faithful and just to forgive me my sin and to cleanse me from all unrighteousness. He has always been there to listen to me. He has always instructed me. He has always given me opportunities to trust Him. He has always revealed Himself to me through His creation. He has always blessed me. He has always protected me. He has always caused everything to work together for my good. He has always had every problem that I have encountered worked out before I ever knew about it. He has always provided a way out from temptation. He has always been interceding on my behalf. He has always been preparing a place for me. He has always loved me. He has always been there, and He always will. Hither by His help I've come.

And He will always be doing all these things for you both as well. The best advice I think I could ever give you, is to let Him.

I don't mean to imply that I have "arrived" as a perfect Christian; that I no longer stumble and fall- FAR from it. I am prone to wander, prone to leave the God I love. My prayer for myself, and for you, is that we would remember that Jesus sought us while we were strangers, and rescued us from our own sinfulness. That he interposed His precious blood on our behalf. We in return should willingly offer our hearts to Him to take and seal them for His courts above.

Bug Hunting Clothes

The kids caught a katydid while hunting for bugs this morning. It inspired them. They wanted to find more bugs. Joey told the kids to go put on "bug hunting clothes."

Jonah came down wearing a green shirt and brown shorts. He explained that he would blend in better wearing these clothes. He was pretty sure the bugs would all think he was a piece of grass and they would jump on him without much effort on his part.

We are not talking about Hannah's clothes. It might be time for an intervention for the sake of fashion.

Have I mentioned my kids have personality?

They tickle me. A lot.

Thanks for the chuckle this morning kids.