More than just "Old Glory"

We have this huge flag that flies in the little town where our courthouse and county government are located. The flag stands on top of a hill and is the centerpiece to a beautiful Veteran’s Memorial that was created several years ago. The flag is one of the most beautiful ones I have ever seen and on some evenings when the sun is setting and the wind is blowing just right the sight of it just sends chills over me. It’s a sight of scenery that easily can compete with any of the works of Da Vinci and Michelangelo.
I wonder though when people drive by, when they take the time to look, do they see the scenery or do they see what it represents? When I look at the flag as it blows in the wind I think about what it means to so many people; what it stands for to the soldiers who defend our country draped in the cloak of its shadow or to the widows, mothers and fathers who are presented the flag wrapped in that perfect triangle to signify what their loved one died protecting and fighting for.
The red, white and blue piece of cloth that waves from a cord on a pole is more than the product result of a lady named Betsy all those years ago who hand stitched the first one. It’s more than a symbol that we recite words to a pledge in the presence of. The flag is about what it represents. It’s about what the words in the Pledge of Allegiance stand for. It is a representative for our freedoms that we have to worship, to vote, to arm ourselves and so much more. It is 3 colors intertwined that fly to symbolize a nation where we join together to believe our own beliefs, fight for what we stand for and are entitled to have our own opinions.
On Monday night of this week someone stole the flag that flew high on that hill. Whether it was a prank or a mission to see if they could accomplish it – no one knows. But regardless of what the reasoning is behind their motive that substantiates the fact that they have no morals, I can’t understand how this person (or persons) could not feel guilt or remorse for what it is that they have done. I wonder if they thought about how much blood has been shed or how many lives have been sacrificed to protect what that flag stood for. I wonder if when they see a veteran proudly displaying a hat or a medal if they will feel the least bit of remorse for desecrating what symbolizes the freedom that they, as soldiers, fought so hard for.
This past school year my son and two of his friends were given the very distinct honor of raising the flag at the beginning of the day and lowering it as their day closed to an end. I made sure that I took the time to express to them what respect they needed to apply to the job that they were to be doing. I instructed them on the proper way to treat the flag each time that they held it in their hands. And most importantly I reminded them of what that flag represented to not only us as citizens, but also as a country as a whole. It saddens me that some parent(s) never took the time to emphasize to their children the same things that I felt so passionate about relaying to my own child, as well as the others that had the task before them of treating the flag in the manner of which it was deserving.
When my children were old enough to stand on their own at ballgames I taught them to place their hand over their hearts when the Pledge of Allegiance was said and they watched intently as I did the same. I want my children to realize and to know what our country is founded on. I want them to never forget that we have the freedom that we have because so many men and women believed in that freedom, so much so that they were willing to risk their lives for it. I wish that every parent realized the importance of teaching their children to respect the flag and most of all what it symbolizes. It saddens me that through the course of time that parents and adults along the way dropped the ball when it came to teaching their children to respect the very freedom that allows them the opportunity to be put in a position to make the choice of doing what this person (or these individuals) did Monday night to our flag.
To many others, not just myself, that flag was more than "Old Glory", it was more than scenery that stood on the top of that hill. It stood towering over the memorial of men and women that dedicated their hearts and lives to fight for this country. The flag was replaced as quickly as it was noticed to be missing. Unfortunately though, the thought of that glorious flag being thrown in a ditch somewhere or crammed under a bed as a token of remembrance of this act makes my heart sad. And even though she is flying high again - it's the thought that someone had so little respect for her that she had to be replaced.
If you ever have the privilege of driving through Monroe County, TN by way of Highway 411 watch for our flag and I hope that it has the same meaning to you as it does to me and so many other people in our community. And when you see her flying in the wind I hope that it will remind you of what she stands for and that you will smile with pride as you pass by that memorial on the hill.

Learning the value of time

This past week seems to have been all about time and how quickly that it passes. Time is always something that I seem to be short on. There are just never enough hours in the day and no matter how long the day can drag on some times there is still never enough time to get done what I need to accomplish. Balancing my time is just something that I have never been able to conquer and become an expert at.
But in the past few days I have realized that time in that capacity is the least of what I need to worry about. Instead I have had numerous occasions since last weekend to focus on how important time itself really is and that balancing time is not important but making the best of it is.
This week my son graduated 8th grade and became a freshman and my youngest daughter took the last step on the ladder that has led to her senior year in high school. It truly only seems like yesterday that I walked them into kindergarten holding their tiny hands and feeling their heartbeat through their palms as they were as nervous as me. While I smile at the thoughts of their accomplishments I couldn't help but wipe the tears from my eyes as my last child began his new journey and I sent my daughter on her way to have senior pictures made. Time has transported them at warp speed from the days of Polly Pockets and Thomas the Train to the steps of college preparation.
While the course of the end of the school year events has given me the opportunity to think about how fast the past years have flown by I have also experienced that feeling on more than one occasion of how time is taken for granted. On Tuesday night I received a call at 3 in the morning from a Sheriff's Deputy that literally stopped my heart as he began a conversation that led me to believe that my daughter had been hurt in a wreck or worse. Looking back at the conversation that took place, I know that the scariest moment of the phone call only lasted less than a minute - in that minute though I experienced a feeling of fear that I will never forget. In a span of that short time my mind was flooded with the thoughts of not ever seeing my daughter again and my heart was pleading with God for more time with her. I don't think that I have ever been so overcome with a fear so great that I physically lost all function of my body. In that fraction of time between when I thought the worst of what may have happened to my baby girl and hearing that she was okay it seemed like an eternity.
While the end result of the call was nothing like I had originally thought - it was that short time that I anticipated the worst that I will always keep in the back of my mind.
Today I called to check on a friend of mine that I have known for many years. She is one of the most precious women that I have ever been blessed to know. She has cancer and the days that she has are not many. I have had opportunity after opportunity to go visit with her, but with each intention to go see her came a reason that deprived me of that chance. Now only the immediate family is allowed to go see her and it breaks my heart that in the midst of all the insignificant things that I have been doing that kept me from seeing her, I feel so guilty that I never just took the time. I think back to the countless times she would ask me to come visit and how many times I said I will...I promise. I wish that I could just rewind the weeks and the months and relive that time with the perspective that I have now on the importance of spending time with someone you care about.
If I have learned anything this past week I have learned that time is something that I should have appreciated more than I have. The house and the car can be cleaned later, getting on Facebook can wait it's turn and going to Wal-Mart can be done when there is more free time in a day. But spending time with my children and my granddaughter, my loved ones and my friends are the things that are most important.
I can't turn back the clock to spend more time listening to my children's stories or sitting on the porch drinking coffee with an old friend. If I could have a do over that's what it would be. If only time were in a bottle I would know how much has passed and how much time is left. I have been blessed with all the years of being with my children and having precious friends and family and I know now I should have taken advantage of that time instead of taking it for granted.

The journey of motherhood

I have thought a lot today about what being a mom consists of. There's so much more to it than just a title. Being a mother has been more than providing meals, clothes and a roof over my children's heads. I have been the healer of broken hearts, the kisser of boo-boo's, a counselor, a provider of guidance, a cheerleader and many other things.
Raising my children has been a breeze on some days and on others it has been a challenge. I have watched my children struggle and I have struggled myself in the capacity of the one who is supposed to guide their paths. Along the journey that I have been on with my three precious children I have learned as much [if not more] than I have taught. I at times thought that I would always know the answers to their questions and the solutions to their problems. That has not always been the case. There have more times than one that they have shown me more strength and compassion than I have them.
It's not easy for them to live with a single mom. There have been sacrifices that they have had to make and things that they have had to do without. I have always tried to be give them most of what they wanted and all of what they needed, even if that meant I had to go without the newest fashions or little extras along the way. I have always tried to pray that God would take away the envy that I might have of a richer parents or dual parent households. Not because of myself, but because of my children, feeling like maybe they felt cheated doing without some of the things that I couldn't afford or give them at a certain time. They have never been ones to hold a grudge or make me feel inadequate for not giving them all the luxuries that some kids have.
Even though there have been hard times through the parental years there have been so many more rewards than disappointments. To be able to bring a smile or a burst of laughter to a child who is crying from a hurt that has been inflicted upon their hearts or to be the one who has healed the pain of a skinned knee by a simple kiss that made it all better or to have seen the look on their face and the smile they tried to hide as I tried to accomplish being the loudest parent in the stands or in the crowd - those are some of the "plus moments" that I have experienced through the years.
I know that it hasn't been easy living with a stressed out mom over bills and a menopausal mom of these latter years, but yet they have still loved me through all my shortcomings and bursts of crying or screaming unnecessarily loud over an undone chore or request. We don't always have those "Leave it to Beaver" days, sometimes it's more like a scene out of an action packed war movie with yells across the house between siblings or with me. But every day has been days where we have never doubted the love between a child and a mother.
I grew up in a household where my dad worked and my mom [for most of the years] was a stay at home mom who took care of us while Dad provided the income. I didn't have a lot of things that some kids had, but I never lacked in the things that I needed to be happy and taken care of. My parents could have both worked and given me an expensive car when I turned 16, but instead they sacrificed themselves and gave what they could so that Mom could always be there for us in a moment's notice. I had to work for my own car, pay for anything "extra" that I wanted and because of that I have always had a dedication to having strong work ethics. Later in life I realized that was more important that being handed whatever it was that I wanted. In return for what they passed onto me, I now am blessed to have two children that have jobs and dedicate themselves on a daily basis to strive and have those same work ethics.
I can't take the credit for any ethics that I have acquired through the years though; they were instilled in me by the examples that my parents set for me. And along the way, the same as my parents did, I have failed from time to time to always do the right thing. They didn't always know just the right thing to say or do, but they tried to always make it right and that is what I remember.
I just hope that through the ups and downs of on this roller coaster ride of motherhood that I have shown my children that above all - no matter what happens - that I love them as unconditionally as they love me.
I am not without fault trying to maneuver my way through this maze of being a parent, I fall short more often than I succeed; I know. But through all the blood, sweat and tears there have been more triumphant moments than I can count. And at the end of the day when I thank the Lord for those three precious lives that I was given the gift of, I also ask for mercy and forgiveness when I fall short of giving them all that they need to guide them in the direction that they need to go that will insure them a better future. Although I can't always be there for them to hold their hand, I hope that in those moments when they doubt themselves or fear failure that they hear the still small voice of their mother in their ears whispering that I love them and me cheering them on. And I hope that in my absence during those moments that they will always have only words of encouragement and praise echoing in their minds and hearts.
Today, as I look back on my years as a parent, I know that it has not always been easy - but it has ALWAYS been a blessing. And if my children take nothing else with them when they leave to live their own lives that they will take with them as many wonderful memories of me and they will leave behind for me to have of them.

Oh Mr. Packard I miss you!

Well this week my laptop crashed and I have just been lost without it. I took it to the computer doctor yesterday and I feel like I am waiting on pregnancy test results to come back I am so antsy! I never realized how much I have come to depend on technology. I am imagining that this is what it must feel like when addicts of something have to go without whatever their “fix” may be. For me, this ranks right up there with me trying to give up diet cokes.

I have said this several times before; I don’t know what in the world we did before we had the wonderful world of websites and social media.

It didn’t used to be so bad when it was “just” Facebook. But when stalking the walls of all my friends and family to see what was going on in their lives wasn’t enough; then I discovered the intriguing land of games and apps. I soon entered into the imaginary agricultural phenomenon of Farm Town and Farmville and it just got worse from there. I was up until one o’clock sometimes later thinking that I was actually going to the market to sell my crops for REAL money. I even started farms on all my kids’ accounts (since I do have their passwords) and when I was finished planting corn on my farm I would travel to theirs. But just like when I was a kid, I got tired of planting seeds and collecting my bounty from my gardens wasn’t satisfying enough for me to keep up with all my plantations.

Then I entered into the dark world of Angry Birds. For the life of me I can’t understand why it is so fulfilling to sling birds or all colors and bombs at rocks and structures to get the highest score – but it is. I had myself convinced that there was actually a prestigious trophy that I was going to be presented the end of each week when I won a tournament! I have to admit though on those really stressful days it did feel much better to just blow up a bunch of green pigs.

When Angry Birds became something that just wasn’t satisfying all my needs derived from too much time online, along came Words with Friends. I would have at times 4 or 5 games going with at least 3 or 4 people. I would find myself practically patting myself on the back every time I scored a triple word with the letter J or Z on a triple letter and come out with a score that would make the mouths drop open of Scrabble champions around the world.

And now I have succumbed to being sucked into the universe of Candy Crush. Who knew there would be so much anticipation that could build up waiting for a chocolate ball with sprinkles to match up with a candy cane striped jelly bean? I almost wither away into a deep state of depression when I realize I have played my last life and have to wait 30 minutes for another one or at least a friend that is playing to send me one. I am not above sending a text to my mom, brother or sister to plea for a gift of one of those lives.

At times I can’t believe that I have become so dependent on what Facebook and all its wonderful apps have to offer me. Then I get to thinking about the “real world” and all the stresses and worries that I have and suddenly I realize why I have this addiction that made men like Mark Zuckerberg very wealthy. It’s because it’s a nice break away from reality. It’s a visit into a world where you don’t have to worry about what bills you have to pay, how many appointments that you have coming up next week and just the every day stress that life can dish out to you. Even if it’s a pretend place of harvesting crops and crushing candies it’s a nice place to escape to and when I’m ready to go back to the real world – I go back a much nicer person.

It truly is an addiction but in all actuality it could be much worse. I, myself, probably need this break away from Mr. Hewlett Packard but I have to be honest; I sure do miss him.

Home sweet home - squeaky floors and all

It was five years ago around this time that I was looking for a house in Tellico Plains for me and the kids to live. I had grown up in Tellico and through the years lived at more places than some people would live in three lifetimes. My dad suggested, after a rather lengthy and fruitless search, that I move back into the house I grew up in. He and Mom had built a new house a few years before that and had been renting our home that we shared when we were growing up. I think it must have been some divine intervention that the lady that had lived there for a few years was deciding to pack up and move away.

I hadn’t been in that house in quite a few years and when Dad made the proposition for me to move in, I don’t remember even hesitating. Not only could I be where I grew up, but I could also spend more time with Mom and Dad. Dad had been diagnosed with his Leukemia prior to this and Mom had suffered a heart attack so spending more time with my parents became more of a priority.

When I walked through the doors of that house the first time with my kids I was amazed at how many memories flooded my mind. There wasn’t a room that I walked in that didn’t have some significant reminder of an earlier time in my life. I felt like a kid in a candy store just standing there in the middle of the living room just absorbing all the thoughts of my childhood running through my mind. It felt so good to be home again!

Through the years of living there I have often referred to the house as a money pit because at one time or another over these past five years I have been fixing or remodeling something. At times I have to admit it would get rather discouraging. Then I would remind myself that the house was almost as old as me and I was falling apart too!

There’s wallpaper that has started peeling, flooring that has had to be replaced, enough plumbing issues that require having a plumber on retainer [but then again, we do have one bathroom for five people] and a heating and air unit that has had to be repaired at least three times. I can’t forget the cracks in the wall – my daughter Kailee, bless her heart, lives in fear of waking up with her bedroom being completely separated from the rest of the house if a good tremor comes along. I have done some remodeling and improved this and that, but I don’t want to change too many things because then it would just take away from the character.

But amidst all the trials of maintaining a house that feels like it’s falling apart are things that make it all worthwhile. I am reminded often of those simple things at times when I most need to be. Like when I walk through the hallway between Kailee and Eli’s room at night to tell them good night and the floor creaks beneath me. Every time that happens I instantly smile thinking of all those times when I was a teenager who didn’t want to go to bed, so I would sneak out of my bedroom to lie in the hallway and secretly watch TV in a spy like position so that Mom and Dad wouldn’t see me. That darn floor got me busted so many times that eventually, through some secretive Ninja training while Mom and Dad were at work; I learned to maneuver myself into position without being caught. Then there are the times that I stand in the kitchen cooking and washing dishes and thinking about my Mom being there all those years in the same place I am standing. I can even at times look in the direction of the dining room and see the chair vividly in my mind that my dad would sit in while she cooked. Just the other night I was in my bedroom (ironically the one that I had for part of the time that I was in high school) and I went to raise the window; suddenly a flashback of the time I was sneaking and smoking too close to the screen and burnt a huge hole in it came back to me. I giggled thinking about how I blamed the neighbor boy down the road and told my dad that he must have been trying to look in bedroom window with a lighter and burned it. Poor neighbor boy, my daddy never did care for him after that. Then thinking in the same moment how I sprayed hairspray while I was smoking so they wouldn’t smell it and how in the world I kept from blowing that end of the house to the outer skirts of Mt. Vernon!

When I look outside in the fields and I see my kids playing with their friends like I used to it brings back all those recollections of some of the best times in my life with my girlfriends from all those years ago doing a lot of the things that my own kids do now. One day though I am going to show them the creek where I mastered the art of catching crawdads and treat myself to another reminder of the simpler times in my life.

A lot of things have changed since I was a kid walking through the halls of that house or running outside through those fields. But too, there are still so many things there that have so many special memories connected to them. I’d like to take the time someday to just slow down a little bit and appreciate more those souvenirs of yesterday that are taken for granted and overlooked far too much.

I think sometimes that it would be nice to have a new home, one with updated carpet, more than one restroom and a great big kitchen. But having all those things to me isn’t as important as what I have when I walk across a squeaky floor and it makes me smile or all the other wonderful rewards of living where I grew up. For now I think I will just cherish the blessing of home sweet home…just the way it is.