Little Things. . .

I realize that most of the time, it doesn’t take much to make me happy. Little things usually do it for me.  Lately, there have been several things that don’t seem like much to most people, but make me very happy. Here’s a few.

Yesterday my professor and friend from FSU posted a picture of her dinner and tagged me in it. Doesn’t seem like much right?  Here it is:

It made me smile! Why? Because she remembers how much I love grits and it makes me think of when we were in London and she found grits for me.  See? Little things. . .

Yesterday morning at church, when I talked to sweet Ainsley,  she smiled at me.  Yes, she really did – and other people saw it!  Who doesn’t smile when a baby smiles at you? Little things.

During VBS a few weeks back, one of my little girls from Junior Church walked past the kitchen where I was standing with a bunch of other ladies.   Out of the clear blue, she yells out “I love you Miss Sandi.”    As you can imagine, that made my day. Another little thing. 

Today I checked my school email. I try to do it once every couple of weeks in the summer, because even though we’re not at school, the emails keep coming. If I waited until we officially went back to work, it would take hours to sort through it all.  Well, here’s what I discovered. 

 

Yep, that’s me! My title has been changed in our email.  I’m still listed in the Social Studies department, but I have officially been granted the title of Library Media Specialist.  Again, I knew my principal’s secretary had done the paperwork for the county to make it “official” but I wasn’t sure how long it would take.  But there it is, in black and gray.

It’s a little thing, but it made my day. I’ll be smiling about this one for a while.

A good housekeeper I’m not. . .

There are some things I’m good at doing. There are some things I’m not good at doing.  One of the things I’m NOT good at is keeping house.   I’m not a good housekeeper.  Okay, I’ve mostly messy.  If my choice is go to a move or clean my house, I’d rather sit in a dark theater, eat popcorn and watch a movie.  If my choice is hang out with Josh, or watch Makiah in a play or fold clothes, I’ll use clothes out of the laundry basket.  I can  find many, many excuses for not cleaning my house. 

I once heard a wise man say something like “You won’t keep your house clean until you get sick of it being dirty. “  He was right. I recently decided I’m tired of my messy house. During spring break, I started cleaning my house and worked on it really, really hard.  And it’s still mostly clean, which I’m very proud of.  Josh came upstairs to my house and said “Aunt Sandi, your house is looking pretty clean.” He actually said it with surprise in his voice, which I’m not exactly proud of. . .  I found a lot of stuff, threw a lot of stuff away and discovered some things.

Here’s  what I have discovered.

1. I have WAY too many books.

2.  I have too much stuff.

3. I have some really neat stuff. 

But here is my greatest discovery and I’m not really sure why NONE of my really good housekeeper friends ever shared this with me.

I have discovered the wonder that is a Magic Eraser.  It’s the coolest cleaning thing I’ve found.  I have no idea HOW it works, I just know it does.  You just wet it and scrub.  Eventually, it just sort of dissolves away.

If you haven’t used one, a magic eraser will clean just about anything.   The inside of a microwave, check.  A stovetop, check. The outside or inside of a fridge or freezer, check. A wall, check.  Faucets and a bathroom sink, sure. The inside and glass of a toaster oven, yep. . .  I haven’t found anything it WON’T clean.  In my experience,   the ones from the Dollar Tree (2 for a $1.00) seem to work best   Walmart’s version, mehhh.   I’ve never actually used a real Mr. Clean Magic Eraser.  I can’t imagine how good THEY are. 

So, my  new goal is to keep my house clean. My magic erasers make it easier.

Father’s Day

Today is Father’s Day – my first without my Daddy. That makes me sad.  I’ve been thinking about him a lot this week. . . and I miss him.

Last week I heard someone say that her dad was a pastor and he got up and preached on Sunday, but the rest of the week he was completely different. My daddy wasn’t like that. He was the same on Sunday and Monday and Tuesday and Thursday and Saturday. He was always the same. 

My sisters and I couldn’t have asked for a better dad.  Ours really, really was the best.  Our dad was patient and kind.  He took time for us and always saw good in people. He was almost naïve, in that he would pick up hitchhikers, and stop and help people on the side of the road.  He was a great dad.  He always gave people a second or third chance,  never carried a grudge and never had anything bad to say about people.

In the process of cleaning out some of his stuff, we  found several of his of his Bibles.  He wrote all over them, in his cramped, chicken-scratch handwriting. Some of the things he copied from Bible to Bible, every time he got a new one.  I could (and probably will) write several blog posts about the stuff he put in them.  I found this to be most interesting.  In the back of each Bible, he had one of my sisters copy this poem.  I have no idea where he got it, I’ve looked and looked to find an author and I can’t. I know it came from a  So here it is:

Papa’s Coming

He swung on the gate and looked down the street,

Awaiting the sound of familiar feet,

Then suddenly came to the sweet child’s eyes,

The marvelous glory of morning skies,

For a manly form with a steady stride,

Drew near to the gate that opened wide,

As the boy sprang forward and joyfully cried “ Papa’s coming.”

The wasted face of a little child,

Looked out of the window with eyes made wild.

By the ghostly shades in failing light,

And the glimpse of a drunk man in the night. 

Cursing and reeling from side to side,

The poor boy trembling and trying to hide,

Clung to his mother’s skirts and cried “Papa’s coming.”

 

There are things I know, and things I don’t know. I don’t know why that was so important to him. I don’t know who wrote it.  I do know that it came from the Sword of the Lord newsletter from the June 19, 1980 issue.   I do know that his father was a drunk, before it was politically correct to be called an alcoholic.   I do know that my dad never drank, ever for fear that he’d be like his dad.  I know that he never was like that – and that was important to him. 

Today in Junior Church, we made a little thing for dads.  On the outside, it said “My dad is the best dad because. . . “ and the kids put slips inside with reasons WHY their dad is a great dad. There are some great dads that I know, but my dad really was the best dad.  And that, I know. 

My Mom(s) ??

I was lucky to have a GREAT Mom. She was a pistol!  She wasn’t always easy, but she loved us and sacrificed a lot of things for us.  I never saw my mother sleep.  She was awake when we got up and was always awake when I went to bed.  She went to business college after I started school, and had a higher GPA than I did in college. My goal in graduate school was to have the same or higher GPA than she did.

I’ll never understand why God decided to take her early. I was certainly not ready to be a motherless child, even though I was an adult. I have to trust that He knew what He was doing, that He is always good and that His ways are not my ways.

 

That being said, Mother’s Day isn’t easy.Because I’m NOT a mother, and because I don’t have my mother with me any longer,  it makes me sad.  I have some dear, sweet friends who have lost their children, and my heart always hurts for them on Mother’s Day as well.  I think it must be harder for them than it is for me!

After my mom went to Heaven, my dad married again.  I was not really too excited about that and I’m not really good at hiding my feelings.   It’s been really, really hard to think of her as my step-mother.  But Ms. Betty took good care of my daddy.  She loved my daddy and he loved her – and that is good enough for me. I’m sorry I couldn’t get over myself earlier. 

But, like I said earlier, God is good. I have been blessed with lots of people who “mother me.”  The Ladies Auxiliary at my church has a group of ladies that take good care of me.  One of them hems my clothes for me and fixes them for me when I mess them up.   Another brings sandwiches to our meeting because she worries that I don’t eat supper before I come to our meeting.  They all LISTEN to me.  That’s the greatest thing. 

I have some other ladies from my Sunday School class who take care of me as well. One lady makes me pumpkin muffins, which she knows I love.  They make bows for me and make things look pretty when I can’t do it myself.  They LISTEN to me and give me advice.   They just take care of me.

I have another friend who is extra special.   She had a loss much greater than mine.  Her daughter Jennifer was my friend.   We didn’t have much in common, but the first time we met, it was like that “click” when you just KNOW.  She was one of the bravest people that I ever met in my life.  She accomplished some amazing things. She went to heaven three years ago this August.  Her mom Kathy is my friend too, which is slightly odd when you think about it.  But her mom has filled an empty spot for me. 

One day, after Jen passed away, her mom called me and asked me to do her a favor.  She said she needed something.  I told her I’d do whatever I could.  She said she needed a daughter. She missed having her daughter.  I told her I needed a mom. I missed having my mom. It seemed like a perfect match.

After my mom passed away, one of my wise friends told me: “It will get better. God will help that empty spot fill up. It won’t be the same, but it will be good.”  You know what, he’s exactly right.  I can’t replace Jennifer for Ms.Kathy and Mr. Donald.  They can’t replace my parents.  BUT,  I can help fill up their empty spot, just like they can help me fill up my empty spots.  Ms., Kathy listens to me when I’m whiney,  tells me when I’m being ridiculous and just need to stop and lets me know when I’m being irrational. Sometimes she has to tell me to get over myself.  I ask her for advice and help.  She helps me do all kinds of things. We measured flour and salt into Ziploc bags to make dough that would turn into Olympic medals. She bought and cut straws for me for our Mother’s Day craft tomorrow.  (My pumpkin muffin making friend experimented for me!)  Tomorrow, she’ll help me  hot glue.  

Mother’s Day is all about honoring mothers.  I’m thankful for Betty Jimmerson, my mother.  I’m also thankful for the other mothers that God has put in my life. 

What do my Legos say about me?

So, a few weeks ago, my students at school used my Legos for a project.  They said they smelled like syrup, so when we were done, I decided to wash them.  I washed some in the sink, in my colander, and some I tied up in a pillowcase and threw in the washer. Air dry, it worked GREAT!

I decided to sort them before I put them back into the tub.  I took out all my people and the tiny part, and put them into a zip top bag.  What I found concerned me a bit. . .

Here’s my Lego family picture.  A slightly dysfunctional family. 

Luckily, we have lots of headgear. Any occasion, I’m prepared. From baseball caps to witch doctor masks to hair. 

That was not as frightening as this: 

Why are my mini-figures this well armed?  I mean, really? That’s quite an armory.

And speaking of “arms” 

 

These unattached heads are slightly creepy.

And these dismembered body parts.  Notice that there’s an unequal number of heads, bodies and legs.   Oh, and yet another knife.

 

But hey, we have plenty of flippers And an oxygen tank.

Oh wait, all is well.  We have a magician’s hat, a magic wand and a ghost suit.

Why are there no girls? Why do I have so many weapons? Why do I have  half a skeleton and a ghost? I have no idea. 

What can I do?

I hear people say that a lot – “What can I do?”  “Is there anything I can do?”  Well, I’ve got something for you.

I hate cancer. My friend Jen died because of  brain cancer. My grandfather died from lung cancer – smoking until the day he died, I must add.  I have several friends who are breast cancer survivors. I don’t think there is anyone in the world who has not lost someone they  love or been afraid they would lose someone they love because of cancer. 

I can’t cure cancer.  I’m not a researcher who is working on a cure. But there are people who are doing that and I’m sure every day they  get closer and closer.  We could give money to the American Cancer Society --  but we won’t. We could all participate in Relay for Life  --but we won’t.  So what can we do, except talk about how much we hate it?

I’ve got a simple, simple thing we all can do.  Chevrolet has a program right now called Purple Roads. Purple is the official color for cancer survivors.  There is a website where you can “Purple your Profile.”  You click a few times and your profile picture on facebook turns purple. Yeah, it looks funny and weird. But here’s the thing: Chevrolet will donate up to ONE MILLION dollars to the American Cancer Society, one dollar for EACH purple profile on Tuesday.   So, a few clicks, and you help the American Cancer Society get money.  You can help fight cancer, and all it costs is a few seconds of your time and a purple profile for a few days. 

I have 434 friends on facebook.  My goal is 25 friends turn their profile purple.  Then, if 10 of their friends all turn theirs purple. . . Get it?? That could be a LOT of people.  All for a few seconds and few clicks.  PLEASE help!  What can YOU do?

http://www.chevrolet.com/purple-roads-world-cancer-day.html

Besides, PURPLE is my favorite color! It will make me happy to see purple profiles!!

I wish I could say he got it from me. . .

I have two nephews and one niece.  I love them all beyond words but they are by no means perfect. Almost, but not quite.    Of course, my sisters like to say that anything less than perfect that shows up in their characters is because of me, their Aunt Sandi.

Here are a few things that I do take partial credit for.  They are all very stubborn, HMM, let’s rephrase that to “determined.” I’ll take some of the blame for that.  They’ve all seen me hold on to something WAY longer than I should have, which has not always been a good thing.

Two of the three have turned into book lovers. We have one who loves to read, one who listens to books and one who prefers other things besides books.  I can’t take all the credit for that – our mom and dad were both readers and my sisters and I all love to read.  But, I did buy them an awful lot of books when they were little, so I’ll take SOME  credit for that.

Both of our boys like a good argument.  Ken will take the opposite side just to annoy you, and even argue against something he believes, just for a good “discussion.” Josh will tell you if you’re wrong, give you his reasons and he’s done. He doesn’t enjoy the argument as much as Ken, but sometimes he argues just to be ornery.  (This may be from me, sad to day.) 

They are all brilliant – and I’m not just saying that because I’m their aunt.  They are all gifted and talented in many different ways.   They are all MUCH better at Math than their Aunt Sandi, our Josh especially has an incredible gift for math.

But today, I spent most of the day with our Josh and I watched him. I have had a leaky bathroom faucet for a while and he kept changing the washer inside. He’s been pondering the whole thing,  I think and so today, he decided we needed to change the whole mess.  I don’t know the correct words for things, but whatever the washer goes up against was broken and the washers just kept getting chewed up.  So about 4:30 today, he started working on my faucets.  We made two trips to Lowe’s and one to Harbor Freight. He says the first trip to Lowe’s doesn’t really count, because it wasn’t really what we needed, but I count it!  

We turned off the water to our house several times, cut PVC pipe, assembled, un-assembled, re-assembled, turned on the water, had a small leak, turned off the water, un-assembled, re-assembled and repeated.  About 9:00 he pronounced it DONE. 

This is what amazes me --  he just keeps trying over and over and over.  And he never gets upset. I get irritated and start yelling at stuff. Yes, I yell at inanimate objects.   He stays calm and just carries on.  I kept thinking he reminded me of someone – but I couldn’t figure out who. It certainly isn’t me!! My reaction to stress is anger – and I’m certainly not proud of that.  But he is just amazingly calm.   

Then, it hit me. He reminds me of my daddy.  My daddy didn’t get upset about stuff.  He got excited about good things and he’d act silly sometimes, but he didn’t get angry or upset in stressful situations – he just stayed calm, quiet and tried again.   I know that I’ve passed on some things to Ken, Josh and Makiah, but it makes me happy to see their Grandpa in them too!