The Simple Boat or The Luxury Cruise?

“For God may speak in one way or in another, yet man does not perceive it. In a dream in a vision of the night, when deep sleep falls upon men, while slumbering on their beds, then He opens the ears of men, and seals their instruction. In order to turn man from his deeds, and conceal pride from man, He keeps back His soul from the Pit, and his life from perishing by the sword.” Job 33: 14-18


The journey began pleasantly aboard a fairly large sailing vessel; I’d say it was like a yacht. There was nothing incredibly fancy about it but it was comfortable and I felt happy and peaceful onboard. My mother was with me although I never saw her I knew she was near and I had a sense of family, love, security, anticipation. I stepped out onto the deck of this boat and that’s when it all began to take form. I could see we were sailing on a huge body of water, a lake maybe, I could see both sides of the shore despite the vast width of the dark water. It was autumn and the shoreline to my right, the closest to me, revealed empty pastures and fields, bare trees, a gray sky and the water reflected this but it was a wonderful feeling despite the dreary day and I was happy and enjoying this peaceful ride. Somewhere out in the water I could see something, it was swirling around like a whirlpool, and I feared we may run into it but somehow again the calm came over me and I knew I was safe aboard this simple yet strong boat so I glanced away from the swirling water and cast my gaze back to the shores both near and far.

We were docked and I was still alone and felt no one around me as I walked along now in the sunlight down a sidewalk, people began to pop up all around me, and we were all walking toward another boat only this boat was a massive ship. A large, beautiful, elegant, ocean liner, the kind of thing you could float around at sea for weeks onboard and never be bored. I could hardly see the top of the majestic ship as I walked closer and was ushered inside where I saw that everything was a shiny, white marble and trimmed in gold. There were glass elevators and to my delight a huge spiraling staircase (I love those) that was wide enough to drive a truck up and down with broad steps and it swirled up to the top floor of this floating hotel. Everyone around me was walking, talking, going about their business…next thing I remember I’m on the very top floor. The hallway is carpet, the staterooms like hotel rooms lining the length of the ship. It’s quiet. Very quiet. I suddenly have an eerie feeling that I’m not supposed to be here. At all. Not just this floor, but the ship itself, now we were sailing off to who knows where and I was stuck onboard and the feeling that was washing over me at this point was beyond unsettling. I’d made a huge mistake following everyone onto this ship.

I walked by a room and there was a laboring woman, all alone, on the bed and I ran to her and offered my help and assured her I could deliver her…then I was distracted by the sound of someone coming down the hallway. Then at the doorway I saw a woman wearing a housekeeping uniform pushing a cart with mop buckets and such on it and she stopped and she stared at me. Her affect was flat and her eyes were dark and lifeless and she said to me, “You’re not supposed to be here.” Wow, didn’t I know that?! Suddenly, I was running down the hallway to a room. Someone I knew was in that room, someone I once loved and would still help if he needed me, but I knew he was inside and that I had to warn him: the sense of impending doom was so heavy on me now and I wanted to find anyone I knew onboard as well as to warn everyone else I met up with that we had to get off this ship. No one answered the door –I knew that he knew I was out there and he chose not to open the door--and in my heart I knew I couldn’t do anything else to try and save him so I kept running.

I found myself running down the massive spiraling staircase. People were laughing and walking up the stairs as I frantically tried to warn them there was something we needed to flee from and at that time I wasn’t sure what it was but I felt it in my soul—in my spirit—and I knew it was evil. I was scared but I wasn’t about to stop running and by the time I reached the bottom I noticed something about the people around me. Some of them still seemed to be cheerful, laughing, walking past me w/o a second glance just as they had been when we boarded the ship, but now there were a few in the crowd I could see were different. They had the same look in their cold, dead eyes as the maid upstairs had and they moved slowly yet were coming closer to me faster than I could think. In an instant I began to do what I did as a little girl when I was scared in my room alone at night and thought something was in the closet, under the bed, in the hall just waiting for me to get up and run to my parents…I began to sing. To myself at first, the same song I’d whispered like a prayer to myself hiding under the covers at night so many years ago, it began, “Seek ye first the kingdom of God and His righteousness…and all these things shall be added unto you…allelu-allelu-jah.” I’d almost forgotten how comforting that song was to me when I was a scared little girl, now I was a scared little girl again facing another kind of “monster” because I knew these were real-life monsters. When they heard the words coming out of my mouth, however, they stopped. There was something changing across their zombie-like appearance. It was disgust. I sang it louder until I was standing there echoing off the marble around me and I was no longer scared one bit and I was even smiling when I realized these zombies (for lack of a better term) weren’t lurching towards me anymore but cowering at the words coming from my mouth and the one closest to me hissed at me and turned and ran.
I didn’t have time to think about what had just happened but somehow I already knew that this evil was going to spread like a virus to everyone on this ship and I had to warn them, I had to keep singing, I had to do something. Up and down the stairs I ran, trying to tell others, all the while already seeing more and more people changing into these sad, lifeless looking zombie people I’d just encountered moments before. I felt a sadness myself when I looked at them. They were damned. I feared I would be, too, if I stayed despite how immune I somehow felt to it all.

Then, I was surrounded by a group of girls that I knew were my friends although I don’t know who in my actual life they were but I felt I knew them very well. We were getting off the ship and they put me into a tiny car w/ them and began to drive off together when I realized one of them had already changed. I started screaming and singing all over again and got away and somehow was right back on that stupid ship again!!! The zombie people were all around me now and the only thing that made them turn and run from me was me yelling songs about Jesus to the top of my voice over and over again, each time they’d look like they were in pain and hiss at me and become extremely angry but they couldn’t touch me and now I could spot them easily as they tried to hide among the remaining “normal” people.

I ran into one of the rooms and shut the door, catching my breath and my mind was reeling when I saw him. Across the room, it was my boyfriend, Christian, and although he didn’t say a word I just ran to him and he wrapped me up in his arms and I felt that familiar sense of relief and protection from him. I was rambling on and on about what I’d seen, what I’d done, wondering why they were so adamant to get to me…he just stood there quietly holding me and petting my hair. I was exhausted and finally felt I could relax and I laid across the bed on my back and Christian, still completely silent, was suddenly hovering over me, his knees buried into my thighs and his hands clutching me by the wrists and when I looked up to his face to complain that he was hurting me, his face had changed. Instantly, I knew it never really was Christian to begin with but a trick to finally get me alone and to let my guard down. The face right in front of me was pure evil. His eyes gleamed and he looked down at me like I was his captured prey and he was going to enjoy devouring me and his lips curved to one side in a smirk. I could not move.

This is when I woke up, gasping for air nonetheless, and even though I knew it was just a dream I felt it was so much more than that. Some of you know about the countless dreams I’ve had since I was a child that I’ve seen come true as clearly as I dreamed them, some of you I even warned or told things to, and you saw it or had it happen. So you know when I have a dream that I know is supposed to be remembered I will always remember it! This happened weeks ago now and it’s still haunting me. There’s so much that can be interpreted, so much imagery, and in my heart I know prophetic for me at least. I’ve prayed about it, thought about, talked about it with a couple of people that I trust and are also Christians and can understand a lot of the little things and their Biblical meanings and we’ve all had pretty much the same conclusions: When I was on the first boat, it was simple and strong, I felt safe and peaceful and not even the dark water around me made me fear b/c I knew I was alright and I went about my business and enjoyed the view and I felt like my mother was there as well which added to the feeling of love and safety I’m sure. That’s where I belonged. I was in the will of God and felt I was where I should be. Then somehow I found myself w/ everyone else getting on this massive ship of luxury and beauty but it was evil. When I realized I didn’t belong there, I didn’t know how to escape and run back. I knew I had it in me, I knew I could get away; I knew I didn’t want to become one of “them”. A fire was inside of me to warn them what was coming, to see this for what it was, to leave with me before it was too late…. The moment I let my guard down onboard that ship, the instant I stopped singing praises and felt secure because of another person that I love (or so I thought it was him, turns out, it was a trick) that is when the adversary had me. Weak and powerless, exhausted, and manageable. Wow. Now I’m not claiming this to be some divine dream ushering in the Second Coming or anything! But for me, it gave me a lot to think about and I decided to share it so that maybe it would make you think, too.

Oh, how I pray I never let anything or anyone in this world cause me to again let my guard down (we’ve all done it) and be overtaken by the one that wishes to devour me. “Be self-controlled and alert. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour.” (1 Peter 5:8) I pray that God will give me the strength to sing His praises when I am scared, that He will give me words to speak when there are others around me that may need Him, and when I find myself somewhere or with someone where I don’t belong that I will turn and run away and that I will always find my ultimate rest and rejuvenation in Him and not the world.

Which ship are you sailing aboard?

Buttermilk Clouds

After every storm the sun will smile;

for every problem there is a solution,

and the soul's indefeasible duty is to be of good cheer. ~William R. Alger

I am the girl in this picture. Ok, not literally, but figuratively. When I saw this photograph for the first time I felt as if I knew what she must be thinking. I've been walking with this umbrella in the pouring rain, and I'm finally able to put it down and look up to the sky and marvel at the splendid glory of a sunset through buttermilk clouds. I'm so glad now that it rained or I wouldn't have been able to enjoy this moment. It's not easy to be thankful for the rain sometimes, for the absolute downpour of a storm when it hits you out of the blue, catching you off guard, or even when you see the drizzle and the clouds approaching and you know it's coming but you're helpless to stop it so you hold on to your umbrella or take shelter where you can find it, and you wait it out.

It's not raining on me so much these days, and when it does instead of hiding under my umbrella, I keep walking because I know it can't rain forever and we all have to get wet sometimes.

Thank you, Father, for the rain and especially for the moments that come after we've weathered the storm, for it is only then that we can truly appreciate what we had to endure to see the sun again.

LOCK DOWN

Terrified. Definition: to fill with terror; make deeply afraid. That's how I felt today around 11:30am when my class was almost over and I was checking messages on my phone. Status updates of friends on Facebook let me know something had happened at the Middle School but that whatever threat it was, it was over now and everything (and everyone) was fine. I scrambled through my contacts, texting friends asking what had happened. Thankfully I was released from nursing class finally and could make a phone call to my long time friend since elementary school, Sonia. She filled me in on what everyone confirmed they had also heard: shortly after school began a phone call was made to the police department from someone in the community who had spotted 2 guys wearing trench coats or so it appeared carrying riffles (my mind went to Columbine and my blood ran cold) and they were seen on or near the football field on the campus of the Intermediate/Middle Schools walking towards the school. The schools locked down immediately; they do intruder drills regularly thank goodness and police were on the scene very quickly. Tyler told me this afternoon those drills usually last 5 minutes but after 30 minutes they were all questioning whether or not it was a drill or if they were under some real threat. He was in the band room at the time of lock down and he said they were locked in, covered the windows, and were in some utility closet for the duration. After the Code Red was over their band teacher checked her email and found out it was not a drill and told the kids as much but none of them knew what had happened to cause the lock down. Tyler said the rest of the day, they were on Code Yellow and police stayed at the doors. Nobody was found fitting the description of the 2 males on the campus and some people are saying it was probably a hoax but who knows for sure? I'm hoping we'll get more information and be enlightened because I still can't rest easy about it just yet....

On my drive home from classes about 2pm, I tried to talk to myself and I thanked God all the kids were safe and the teachers and police obviously did an incredible job in responding to the threat. I breathed in. I breathed out. For ten minutes I did this. Ten whole minutes, that's how long I made it before the tears spilled over and ran furiously down my cheeks! Not only was I relieved but I was still terrified. Terrified of the thoughts that I could not push out of my head, the scenes my mind's eye could not ignore, and my heart ripped open for the parents of kids caught up in the Columbines of the world. Unfathomable terror and pain. And more than anything, I simply thought of my little Tyler. I wondered where he was when this all went down, if he knew any details or if he assumed it a drill (he's smarter than that and way too perceptive) and I wondered what was going through his mind and his heart as he sat locked inside whatever room or closet he and his friends were sent to for "safety".

When I saw him get off the bus today, even knowing everything was fine, still my heart leaped for joy at the site of his big green eyes, soft blonde hair, skinny lil body. First thing out of his mouth was, "Did you hear what happened today??!!" He didn't know the details at all, just that there was some type of threat and he relived it all for me and I for him. Evan said they couldn't go outside to play at his school today so I'm glad they took precautions as well. I hugged them both up to me and kissed them, loved them, squeezed them, kissed them some more....you get the picture.

After Ev went to bed I asked Ty what happened during that time he and the others were in the utility closet...what did they talk about? Was anyone scared? Did anyone know what was happening? There was one thing I wanted to hear him say, I didn't ask, just got him talking about that hour and when they started realizing it wasn't a drill. He finally said, "And a lot of people were praying, to themselves and kinda out loud.....I was praying, too." We talked a little bit about God's protection and how I'm not always there to protect him and watch over him but God always has him. His reply? "I know." He's a man of few words.

We'll all get up tomorrow to face another day, to do the things we've got to do, trusting in God's protection and plan for our lives. I've blogged before about having to let go a little bit each day of my children and it tugs at my heartstrings each and every time they close the door to go into school or off with a friend around the corner out of my sight. After a day like today I am not looking forward to those car doors closing tomorrow morning! Another day, another prayer; Lord, watch over my babies and protect them and bring us all safely back under this roof when the day is done. Oh yeah, and help me to remain calm in the meantime. Amen.

“Fear not, for I have redeemed you;I have called you by name, you are mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you;and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you;when you walk through fire you shall not be burned,and the flame shall not consume you."

Isaiah 43:1-2

+ Let Them Be Little +

Don't wait to make your son a great man - make him a great boy.

~Author Unknown

There have been times in my adult life as a woman when I've wondered if I have ever really truly loved a man or been loved by one the way God intended. Then one of these little skinny, snaggle-tooth things comes and plops down beside me, wraps his arms around me, and tells me he loves me and I know that I have in fact felt a love more powerful for these little men that came from me than I possibly could ever love anything or anyone that God has given me on earth.

This morning I had to let them go. Again. As I do so often as a mother, things come up: a sleepover, a playdate, dropping one off here to run the other one there...each day I'm forced to let go of them to some degree and each day I pray God returns them safely to my arms and to their own little beds under my roof each night. Watching them close the door of my small SUV behind them and walk so assuredly towards their schools this morning I realized we were beginning a new school year, a new chapter, with new joys and sorrows included. Tyler was the hardest to let go of today I must admit. My status update on Facebook as I sat in the carline waiting to pull away from the middle school was that I'd "just watched my heart walk into junior high school." Then I heaved sobs and was consoled by my 7-year-old.

I'm happy and thankful Tyler has made it this far, he's been so strong through so much crap no sweet boy should ever have to deal with, he's just a joy to have all the time. It's bittersweet to see him at this age. So many fun things to do now and look forward to! But last night after my boys were in bed I couldn't shake a memory of Tyler (several actually) but one in particular of Tyler letting me wrap him up in his favorite blue and white blanket (which he still has tucked away under his pillow; he doesn't have to have it, but it's comforting to him) and snuggle him days and nights on end back when he was my only baby in the world and all I had to do was comfort and love him and never be apart from him. He pulled a tooth last night, about the 4th one in the last few weeks. He's taller, smarter, witty as can be, funnier than most adults I know, and was talking last night about having his 12th birthday party at a local laser tag joint and inviting the football team. No. I want to hold my 7 lb 13 oz newborn son, not think about him turning 12 and being on the verge of *gulp* PUBERTY! Please, someone, just come stab me straight into my beating heart right now!!! So as he hopped out of my car smiling and nervous about his first day in middle school I told him to have a great day and that I couldn't wait to hear all about it when he got home, I smiled and waved frantically, he looked back smiling and waved to me once more and was gone, lost in a sea of backpacks filing inside to get to their homerooms. This hurts me worse than kindergarten did by far; it's a much different feeling of starting school at 5 then knowing what they're facing in junior high. The worries and concerns and hormones are so much more powerful at 12. Hopefully I'll feel better by the time Evan begins junior high; however, Tyler will be starting high school then and that'll be a whole other freak out completely.

Evan Blake. The strongest little squirt I've ever seen. I laughed at him once we got away from Ty's school headed toward the overcrowded, ridiculous subdivision where his elementary school has been placed (although I *love* the school). He's attended this school since he began in kindergarten and even then he know most everyone in his grade because they'd all gone to Mom's Day Out at a local church together for at least 2 years! We've gone in already, met his teacher, he knows where his room is located, knows where everything else in the school is as well, but there was still anticipation when we pulled in this morning. He said, "Oh, I'm getting nervous....my teeth are shaking!" Then he giggled. He was up with the sunshine excited this morning so no doubt he's having a great day in 2nd grade. Evan is everybody's best friend and loves his teachers to pieces. No worries there; just excited to see how his day's been!

Last night I spent an hour with my boys laid out on a beach towel together at the top of my driveway looking at the stars. We were hoping for a fantastic meteor shower as forecasted but only managed to see a few really cool shooting stars, but we watched regular stars popping up one by one by one and talked about how big the universe must be, how awesome God is to have made all of that and tiny little us, and I laid between them holding their hands on each side of my body soaking it in like a sponge. We go and do a lot of neat things together but last night for that short while before bed in our pajamas in the driveway, I never want to forget if I live to be 100.

Rarely do I listen to country music but I was reminded this morning of this song as I was texting my best friend, Nadia, who has a daughter starting kindergarten today and thinking of my nephew, Jack, staring kindergarten this week...I was reflecting on my oldest nephew starting college and reading comments of so many of my high school friends on Facebook with kids ranging in ages from high school seniors to preschool. It's days like this I squeeze my little loves extra tight, tell them how much I love and treasure them, and spoil them with a special treat of some sort because these days won't last forever and my semester begins next week. But I have today. And I plan to spend it with them, enjoying them, these little men God gave me to love.

So that you (youngsters) may know....

What could get me blogging again but the untimely passing of my beloved childhood icon, Michael Jackson. I felt compelled to share my memories, thoughts, emotions on him mainly after seeing so many remarks on Facebook today; comments from what I would consider kids who weren't even born when I was trying to Moonwalk. Gather round, little ones, and let me share something with you.

Every girl recalls the first male celeb she fell madly in love with, right? To some of you younger ones it may be one of those goofy Backstreet Boys; to each her own. Well to me even in Kindergarten (yes, Kindergarten) I was in love with Michael Jackson. Posters of his smiling face, gloved hand, and tip-toe stance were plastered over every square inch of my bedroom and door. I had the black jacket and glove and I wore it to school and was PROUD OF IT. Like my friends, I would rush to watch MTV just to catch a glimpse of his video that afternoon side by side with my two older siblings who also thought he was the coolest thing ever and guess what? He was.

Today I read on Facebook a few comments during the time of MJ's memorial service which was being aired on NBC asking things like, "Why does he get all this attention? Other celebs have died recently, too. What about our troops that die every day? Where's their tribute?" To that last part I say whoa, hold up, wait a minute. Apples and oranges. Michael was a celebrity beyond any other celebrity. Whether you were a fan or not, he was notorious and changed the face of pop music and made way for the present day boy bands and Justin Timberlakes of today that I'm sure most of the younger crowd adore (see how that happens?). He wasn't just an actor or a famous shot on a poster in a red swimsuit. He wasn't just a singer or an entertainer. He was beloved by millions over generations from the time he himself was a Kindergartener.

The men and women of our military are in fact every day heroes and I have all the love and respect in the world for them and their families; my father served in the Army. I was a young Navy wife once myself and my husband missed a LOT of things b/c he was on a submarine defending your freedoms so please don't confuse their acts of courage and honor with the one day media blitz for MJ's funeral. He will live on in the hearts of millions forever but just like every other breaking news story and special series, this too shall pass and the hype will die down. Relax. Let this one guy have his funeral and some air time. Do you know what all he has contributed to society? To humanity? To charity? He deserves the recognition for that if nothing else. And despite what you may or may not believe about him behind closed doors, if you missed the end of his service today and didn't see his beautiful daughter sobbing saying how much she loved her daddy and how great he was then seriously, you have no room to talk. A family has lost a loved one, a mother has lost her son, children have lost a father, and the world has lost someone that most of us truly treasured so please be respectful of that.

Now here's a funny story about my childhood love for MJ. Most of you that know me well won't be surprised by any of this! When I was in Kindergarten my parents sent me to this school that I haaaaaated. It was a small, private Christian school and I had to wear a dress every day which stinks when you're 6 and wanting to climb monkey bars and chase boys, and I did. Every Friday, we had chapel. It lasted a small eternity. K-12 were all crammed into this small church we had at the school. One horrible day, the preacher (such as he was) got up to do the sermon and was preaching on the evils of rock and roll music and specifically about MJ. Oh, holy cow. I was in tears. I was so mad. I didn't believe a word this moron was babbling for an instant but he was saying MJ was going to Hell for singing these songs and doing these dance moves and on and on, just ignorant mess, some older boy was shaking his head and the preacher yelled at him for shaking his head "no" at him b/c he knew what he was talking about....I went home crying to my parents and refused to go back to school; I had to go to school but not on Fridays. Eventually the principal (aka preacher) called my mom to ask why Steffi hadn't been coming on Fridays to school anymore and Peggy you better believe told him! To this day I'm positive my mom did the right thing not forcing me back to those chapel services. I mean, it was bad enough I had to wear a dress every other day I was there. ;-) I was 5 then and remember that vividly. By first grade I had the black jacket w/ the faux diamonds. Thanks, mom and dad, for letting me do my thang! LOL!

Rest in Peace, Michael Jackson. Your memorial service was a spiritual, beautiful tribute to you

Matthew 11:25-30 "Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light."

Their 'Cabbage Patch' Christmas

You've all heard me rant and rave about our elves that came to visit recently. Last night, they along with their reindeer friend boarded the sleigh with Santa for a first-class ride back to their home in the North Pole. The boys didn't want to see them go, but this morning there wasn't much talk of the elves what with the commotion and excitement of Christmas morning. *whew* I on the other hand am glad to see them go for a while!

Ok bear with me here, this will all tie together if you read this entire blog. When I was a little girl there was nothing more desired for Christmas one particular year than Cabbage Patch dolls. Nowdays, I see them sitting in the doorway of Walmart, almost as an afterthought. But when I was in pigtails, all the girls longed for a Cabbage Patch doll and they were as hard to get your hands on as a Wii is today. So I of course paid my visit to Santa at the mall and put in my request for said doll, knowing if I asked Santa I'd definitely get one! Christmas morning came and I tore open all my gifts, I didn't have one Cabbage Patch doll--I had TWO of them. One was bald, one had a tiny patch of blonde hair atop her little round, plastic head. I was beside myself! I credited Santa for really coming through for me that year and I couldn't wait to tell my friends.

Fast forward a few years later when life was not so simple anymore and the innocent ideals of Santa and elves had long past. Leading up to Christmas, my mother tells me the story behind the year I got those two Cabbage Patch dolls from Santa: With such a high demand, Toys R Us in Montgomery (where we lived at the time) had gotten in a huge shipment of them but were only letting in a certain number of people and each person could only purchase one doll. Just before Christmas people were lined up outside the toystore in the freezing cold all night long-literally-and two of those people included my daddy and my big brother. They each got a turn to go inside and so they each got me a Cabbage Patch doll which Santa totally stole all the credit for easily getting and bringing to me that year. Needless to say, even as a teenager hearing this for the first time, the thought of those two guys standing in the cold all night so that I could get at least one of those precious, plastic, hot commodities touched me to the core and now when I do go by a Cabbage Patch doll in any store and see an entire aisle of them I think about that Christmas about 25 years ago and I'm overcome with emotion and choke back tears. What a perfect example of a family's love for each other. Especially at Christmas.

So here I am, December 2008 and my own two precious children have these elves (which are all the rave amongst their peers) that they write notes to nightly expressing their love and friendship to and the newest addition, Snowflake, the reindeer. Now, these things are your average run-of-the-mill, MADE IN CHINA pieces of work. Somebody out there somewhere is going to the bank on this elf madness and I'd like to find them and shoot them, but I digress. Snowflake hadn't been in our home more than a few days when in the twinkling of an eye, my rotten dog got a hold of him and tore him wide open and had his stuffing on display all throughout the living room. Oh. My. Lord. I found this masacre just as the boys were coming upstairs and I had to assure them quickly that although this looks terrible, I was positive the elves would find a way to fix Snowflake even if they had to call on some friends to make a trip down from The Pole and help! After they dried their eyes (Evan was heaving sobs) and told the dog for the 50th time how much they hated him, they believed me and left a note to their elves, Fairbanks and Tristan, telling of the tragedy and pleading for help for Snowflake. While they're doing this, I'm considering killing Bailey for sneaking in Ev's room and getting Snowflake (he's way too much like one of Bay's toys) and I'm also online with my Master Card getting a new Snowflake sent here UPS asap!!! That night the "elves" wrapped Snowflake up with TP like gauze and sealed it with a Band-Aid and assured the boys in a note he'd be good as new in a couple of days; they had help on the way. Sure enough, 2 business days later, Snowflake was like brand new! ;-) The happiness of my children made the sacrifice I had to make buying a new one all worth it. WELL...just over a week ago, the boys were in school and it was my first day home after finals. I was in my bedroom folding clothes, chatting on the phone with my sister, and a short while after I walked into the living room and what did I find??? Yes. Bailey had gotten in a chair in the kitchen and gotten Snowflake #2 off the table and once again destrooooooooyed that stupid flippin' stuffed toy. I think I blacked out, I know I got dizzy, probably from being breathless screaming profanities at the dog. Again. After the talks I'd had with the boys about putting the elves and reindeer where the dog couldn't get them, he'd found a way despite our efforts. This time, I hid Snowflake #2's mangled corpse and told the boys he must be hiding or something and again ordered ANOTHER Snowflake (yes, number 3) to take its place and it was here almost the next day and brought a surprise (a new DVD) with him and we assumed Snowflake went to find them a present, etc....

Of course, the boys have no clue that we're on our third reindeer and who knows when the day will come when I can finally tell them the drama that went on over this elf/reindeer fiasco that they enjoyed so very much, how I stayed up late every night for over a month to make it look like these elves had been doing things in the house, eating their crackers (putting them back in the box), drinking their water (pouring it out), writing notes back nightly to them, and spending a ridiculous amount of money on a stuffed reindeer that probably cost .15 a piece to make in a sweat shop in Taiwan. When they do hear the story someday, I will also be at liberty to tell them about my Cabbage Patch dolls and I pray that their hearts will be as melted as mine was over my baby dolls when they realize the lengths I went to for their Christmastime merriment with the elves and replacing that reindeer twice because I didn't want them to be broken hearted. Especially at Christmas.

Are they spoiled? Maybe. Are they loved, adored, and taken care of greatly? Absolutely. It all evens out at the end of the day. At this very moment, it's lunchtime on Christmas Day and they have been up since 6am in absolute amazement and wonderous joy that only a child could have on a day like this, playing with toys and getting along together which is a miracle in itself!

Thank God for the people that would stand outside all night in the cold for us.

Merry Christmas.

"He wouldn't have left without his sack!"

As many of you know, my boys have an elf that comes to visit us once a year, about this time, and he returns to the North Pole on Christmas Eve via Santa's sleigh, ushering in the end of his annual trip to central Alabama. Fairbanks is his name and he was originally summoned by Tyler, my oldest and smartest child who at the tender age of 11 is more convinced than EVER before of the magic and power behind Santa, reindeer, and magical elves. But that's another blog all together (and eventually a lot of money in therapy for him; put it on my tab, son). Fairbanks arrived last week and the boys were beside themselves. Oh, how they had missed Fairbanks. He arrived with his felt green sack which he himself can fit into along with his bottle of magic snowflakes that the boys sprinkle on him to make him come alive at night. (For further info on elves visit www.elf-magic.com or else I may never get to the point of this story.)

Fairbanks, naturally, enjoyed himself immensely as we (and by "we" I mean the boys) slept soundly for the first several days of his escapades. Somehow this past Saturday amongst a host of friends and madness surrounding the 2008 Iron Bowl (ROLL TIDE!) Fairbanks got lost. He was last seen in our basement den on the air hockey table by Tyler and on the couch by Evan. WHERE could he have gone? I made sure none of my friends had hidden him trying to be funny; nobody had. I sure as heck didn't hide him so for real, WHERE could he be?! The boys were worried to death. Tyler was an absolute wreck. Saturday night past with no action around the house from Fairbanks and Tyler pouted that he couldn't have come to life w/o his snowflakes on him anyway. By Sunday I was searching high and low with the kids for this elf, thinking about how I'd have to get a replacement if he didn't show up but then realizing the original could be found and I'd just be, as my BFF Nadia and I say, ska-rooooood! I knew Fairbanks had to be in our house somewhere so by Sunday night as I tucked in two very worried little boys, I told them that I had it all figured out: Fairbanks told us in a note before that his job is helping take care of the reindeer, and Evan had summoned an elf of his own this year and asked if a reindeer could come as well (see previously mentioned elf website) and I figured he had to go in a hurry to check on something and was probably picked up when we were next door all watching the game and didn't have time to write a note, etc.... Tyler, serious as a heart attack, exclaims that's not possible because "he wouldn't have left without his sack!" Well, I about hit the floor laughing and heaving but I controlled myself and assured him Fairbanks would be back and we'd find out what all happened!

Monday morning, I took the kids to school and came home determined to do nothing until I found Fairbanks. I did in fact find him around the TV and placed him in Tyler's room where he later found him and that night Fairbanks wrote a note to the boys about being sorry to upset them but he had to check on some new baby reindeer and make sure the others were ready to fly on Christmas Eve and assured Evan he'd have an elf friend and reindeer coming soon. This tickled them to death. So yes, Evan asked last year for an elf of his own so he does have one coming from the North Pole (i.e. UPS from the ATL) this very week along with a reindeer friend of the elves. I'm going to be cleaning up the messes these elves have to make every night for the next month on top of getting ready for Santa to visit. I swear, the things we do for our kids. I told Nadia the other day with Christmas shopping and now having to "summon" an elf and reindeer for Evan that I was on a budget for the next week because "I gave the elves my last sixty bucks." She herself has two elves and understands the seriousness of it all. I knew if we didn't get Evan's elf now, he'd be utterly disappointed but also, I'd probably forget in the midst of everything else going on right now!

*SIGH* Fairbanks has returned home, I am preparing for final exams, the boys both have Christmas songs to perform at school and I've got a to-do list a mile long before the 24th. Evan hasn't mentioned having a b'day party, he did months ago, but has kind of let it go now and since his b'day is the 26th it's become a tradition of sorts for the 3 of us to go see a movie that day and let Evan pick where we have lunch. Last year, it was Alvin and the Chipmunks and Dairy Queen. That boy is a sucker for some DQ. This year, we already know we're going to see Bedtime Stories and with any luck he'll pick my favorite sushi bar but I won't hold my breath. Alas, this story has a happy ending as Fairbanks is gearing up right now to play and make a mess to thrill my children to pieces when they find it all in the morning before school. He will be leaving with Santa in a couple of weeks however, and I'm sure this time he won't forget his sack!