Of Sickness and Blessings

The last month has been rather stressful. Micah was patient zero and it went downhill from there. Cayden had a fever and horrible cough for nearly a week. Then Ezra got the flu, in spite of having had his flu shot!! Chase was next with bronchitis and the flu. We had planned to host our first ever extended family Thanksgiving, and nearly had to cancel. It ended up being a wonderful day, even though some people weren’t able to attend. I thought we had reached the end of the sick train, but nope. It circled back around with Cayden and Ezra both running fevers for an additional few days.

 

 

Last night was our first night at church in four weeks, and it was refreshing. It’s so easy to get out of the habit of going to church, especially with kids and jobs and it being a forty-five minute drive. But I am always so glad once I get there. The fourth annual Live Nativity is taking place next weekend, and I volunteered to help in some way. Seagate Baptist Church is such a blessing to my family, and to the community. Hopefully this will be the biggest year yet for the nativity- last year several thousand people attended and heard about Jesus. I want to be a part of that. I get so caught up in my own life and kids that I ignore that need deep inside me that wants to reach out and help others. I surrendered a long time ago to whatever God wanted me to do and, at the time, I thought that was to work in church ministry full time. That dream ended along with my first marriage. For years I was focused on just supporting myself and son as a single mom. But now life is more stable and I want to make the time to make a difference in my world. I’m still not sure what that difference will be, but there’s got to be a first step, right? This is a rambling post today, but the bottom line is, we have All been blessed. Find a way to pass that forward to someone who needs it.

Memories of Thanksgivings Past

Springfield, Missouri in the year 2001. I was still figuring out how to navigate myself in the entirely alien world of the Midwest. I’d lived in Florida since I was six, so having to wear a coat on a daily basis and use boots for anything other than fashion was still a new concept to me. Having to celebrate Thanksgiving somewhere other than home was an even bigger challenge.

The picture may show a smiling face, but that’s just because I was surrounded by actual, real snow. At that point, it was still a fun novelty. I hadn’t gone to a laundromat in a snowstorm yet and been stuck there for nearly a whole day. I was living in the college dorms and my pastor’s family was kind enough to take me in for the holiday. I don’t remember a lot about the day itself, except for the random fact that it was my first time watching Shrek, and the laughter it brought helped me bond with my new family and survive the first holiday away from my real family. So, thank you, Eddie Murphy!

Ignore the date, gotta love old cameras

Fast forward five years and it’s back to Florida. My first baby, Micah, was exactly six months old on Thanksgiving, and I was so excited to feed him his first real food! That is, until my mother-in-law burst my bubble by telling me she’d been sneak feeding him tidbits for months (insert angry emoji and lots of hand gestures I only used in my head).

The next year, my mom was just as excited for Micah to try her famous green bean casserole. He took a huge bite, made a terrible face, then politely spit it out into his hand and gave it back to mom.

And yes, this picture was definitely taken on the holiday of turkeys, and no, I have no clue why I thought dressing my kid up in a dragon costume on said holiday was a clever idea, but there you go. Micah the Dragon-Slayer.

This picture was taken outside my parent’s house, under the 200 year old oak tree that has watched over all of us growing up. If you look on the left side of the tree, the bat box my brother built when he was about ten is still holding on. I am pretty sure no bats ever used it, but Johnny built it, so there it will stay until it rots off.

This Thanksgiving was in 2008 and I was quite proud that my Mudd jeans, purchased in 2002, still fit and were actually rather loose. Remember Mudd jeans? They were super popular in the early 2000s and I could never find a pair that fit right until that memorable day at a mall in Alabama. I was killing time waiting for my brother’s basketball tournament to start, and there they were. Waiting for me. Flared legs and all. I still have those jeans and I’m going to pass them on to my children.

Okay, back to the subject at hand. Well, actually, that’s all I’ve got about that particular Thanksgiving. Doesn’t my sister, Mary, look beautiful?

This last picture was taken in the not so distant past of 2010. Micah man was four years old, and already a convert of old-man sandals. He actually owns an identical pair today. Pumpkin patching is a favorite past-time of ours, and so is eating the kettle corn usually sold alongside the weird looking gourds and squash. That’s the main reason he’s smiling- I told him this was the last picture before we got our treat. I loved these times with Micah; it was just him and I exploring our little town, ruining our appetite for dinner by eating our weight in kettle corn.

There you have it. Four Thanksgivings and each one full of things for which I am grateful. Have a wonderful holiday weekend and check out these amazingly delicious recipes for Apple Stuffing and Chocolate Pecan Pie.

For the love of the Gators

My family has always been huge Florida Gator fans. To the point of obsession. Growing up, Saturdays revolved around what time the Gators played football. When I got married, my dad and brother-in-law checked the schedule to make sure the ceremony didn’t conflict with the game time. At our huge 50 plus people Thanksgiving dinners, every vehicle had a Gator license plate, flags, and/or orange and blue pinstripes. Mom leaves the house during particularly competitive game- Terwillegers are not quiet people during football season. So that brings me to the story I love telling the most from my childhood….

When I was seven or eight, mom was away on a trip for the weekend so dad was juggling my brother, sister, and myself. We were in the car headed home discussing, of course, the Gators. And I, being a devious little instigator, informed dad that I was no longer going to be a Gator fan; I preferred the Georgia Bulldogs. (Just so you know, the Bulldogs are one of our biggest rivals. I truly believe dad would cheer for Satan himself over those lowdown Dawgs.) There was silence in the car after my statement. My brother and sister stared at me like I’d just grown three heads. Dad asked me quietly if I wanted to rephrase what I’d just said. Stubbornly, I refused. What could he do to me? Well, I found out. 

Dad didn’t yell. He didn’t argue with me. He just silently pulled the car over about a mile from our house and told me to get out. Yes, get out. If I wanted to make such poor life choices, I could just walk home from here and think about it the whole way. So I got out, totally in shock. And I walked that entire mile home…and never have I ever said I’d cheer for the Georgia Bulldogs again. I learned that lesson- don’t mess with a man and his football team. 

PS- Dad swears it was way less than a mile, that he drove slowly so he could see me the entire time, and that I shouldn’t upset my mother with my exaggerations. I beg to differ, but perspective is everything.