Thankful & Blessed

Our first cool front is moving in now, right behind the rain that is falling. Autumn in Texas, much like winter, is more a state of mind than a significant shift. It's a gradual conversion, and fall to us is when it falls below 80 degrees, and the breeze is no longer hot. If we get any color change on any trees, we count it a bonus. Living in north Texas, I get as much fall as the state offers, and if you select your trees well, you can conjure up some "fall color" and tease yourself into thinking you have a fall season.

I was chatting with my daughter-in-law and my youngest son's girlfriend in August, and we were talking about our favorite season. It was humorous to reveal that each of us picked as our favorite season the one which held our birthday. So, yes, as a Scorpio, my favorite season is fall. To me it represents all the good feels: the coming back home after the vacation months, the settling in to the keeping of the house and the ensuing preparation for company coming for the holidays, the anticipation of family gatherings, and the simple joys of football, slower paced days, shorter days, glorious sunrises, and cool evenings spent on the porch or patio watching the sun go down.

Growing up, fall was a kaleidoscope of togetherness - the annual trek to Denton from Houston to be with family for Thanksgiving, the side stop at the farm, the smorgasbord of food at both houses, the sounds of family laughter, the setting of the one household television constantly broadcasting the football game de jour. It was like Christmas, without the cold (which I hate), and without the presents (which always seem to add stress), and for more days (because we always had Thursday to Sunday for this annual trek.) Yes, Christmas 2.0 definitely. The improved and better version!

And then there was my November birthday! Early years were family parties that morphed into adolescent slumber parties, that morphed into my birthday being somehow recognized whenever we gathered for Thanksgiving. In our house, my brother's birthday was five days after mine, and my dad's birthday was eight days after mine, so growing up we had a trifecta of birthday celebrations, and while theirs both sometimes fell on Thanksgiving, crowning them officially as turkeys, mine never did, and that added to the joy and the fun of it all for me. I never had to share my day, and I could never be called the turkey. Win win.

As I transitioned from high school to college, fall meant the imminence of Thanksgiving break, and the real homecoming - the trek from central Arkansas back to coastal Texas, and bringing with it the relief from roommates, dorm life, professor quirks, unending assignments, and most importantly, cafeteria food. Ahhh...the food of fall! Chili, casseroles, chicken fried steak, fried eggplant, hot water cornbread, pies, cookies. There's nothing better than my mother's cooking. I come from a family of good cooks, and it really spoils you to the savory goodness of family favorites. To me, home cooked meals are quintessential to the adoration of all things fall.

As a young married gal, fall turned into planning a multi-family gathering in Houston which was followed by a marathon shopping day. Yes, we were Black Friday gals. My mom, my sisters, and I started Black Friday shopping when I was in elementary school, heading to the budget basement floor of downtown Foley's, back before malls existed. When Gulfgate Mall opened up, we shifted to that mall, and then we moved around over the 30 years (~ 1970 to 2000) of Houston Black Friday shopping to whichever mall was the newest, or had the best Foley's. When my sisters had toddlers, we would head to Toys 'R Us first, and then move on to Foley's. Walmart and Target folded in there along the way, the newer version of Gemco.

When we moved away from the Houston area in 1997, we were initially able to head back "home" to Houston for family Thanksgiving while we lived in San Antonio. However, in 2000 when we moved south to the border town of McAllen, our Thanksgivings changed and we began the new tradition of having our own Thanksgiving, and welcoming whomever was willing and able to travel to be with us. {Having a husband in retail has its benefits, but also its pitfalls. No traveling on the holidays definitely falls into the latter category. But like with much of life, we adapt, choose joy, and press on.}

By the time we moved to Dallas in the summer of 2005, we were adjusted to our new routine, and began recruiting early for guests to come join us for our fall feast. And with that came the anticipation of the company, and the preparation for their arrival. We love to welcome guests to our home. And part of the whole fun of fall, to me, was in using the golden days of September, October, and November to prepare my home, hearth, and heart for the influx of holiday guests. Since I am a natural planner, and since hubby works so much during the holiday season, we learned to start early, especially as we have aged! We don't move quite as fast as we used to. ;-)

And as some years were spent alone, with the travel rotation of friends and family committed elsewhere, we duly learned to be thankful for the years when we did have company, and we also truly learned to enjoy the quiet years where it was a table set for four. {And having spent one year with a table set for two, I can truly appreciate now setting down four plates.} Every fall seemed to be a shift and like the leaves falling in the wind, a varied and enjoyed moment to take in.

Across the space of time and locales and age, I think the biggest shift I've made regarding fall is to take it from a celebration of the season to become a spirit of awareness, a spirit of gratitude, an acknowledgement of being thankful and blessed. Sometimes I hate the word "blessed". It brings out, in some circles, a sense of smug bragging, as if "I've lived such a good life - see my rewards?" and I hate that. But the "blessed" that resonates within me is the acknowledgement of all the incredibly good things in my life that are pure gifts, because they are completely undeserved. And I try so hard to be so thankful for them, not only in the fall, but year round.

This little layout captures just a snip of what some might call my "attitude of gratitude". These are just some random photos taken by me in the fall of 2014, in the fall that turned out unexpectedly to be our last fall at our beautiful home in Murphy. Me sitting with my dog on my patio on a beautiful October afternoon. My husband working hard to clean the outside of windows as we prepare for company. The beauty of a changing tree in my front yard that I paused to notice when headed out for a walk. The cart full of special groceries on our foodie run to Central Market. Thanksgiving isn't just a day. Thanks giving is a way of life. And I want to recall, this year, this first November without my dad, this Thanksgiving holiday most of all, that I am thankful and blessed. I want to remember. Help me remember. Thankful. And blessed.

I Heart Fall ~ Fall Bliss ~ October 2014

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Sketch Credit: Scrapbook Generation

Paper: Simple Stories

Title: Simple Stories

You Do Not Find the Happy Life, You Make It

I used that Thomas Monson quote on my February 25, 2016 blog post, and didn't realize at the time that I would blow up my plans 3 days later and start from scratch. I didn't realize or have any way of knowing just how busy I would be in 2016 making, or constructing and building, that happy life.

Today we hit the 10 week mark of being in our new home! Most days I pinch myself, just to see if it's real. I am thrilled with how it turned out, satisfied with the unpacking pace, and eager to embrace 2017 and find our new normal life again. I got my car into the garage on Sunday, so that truly means we are in and just about all done unpacking, right? ;-) 

This time last year, we stood on a slab in full despair of ever seeing "our dream house" begin. Who knew this time last year that we would turn our world upside down by canceling that contract on February 28, 2016, extend the agony of building, and that I would post quarterly on this blog, vs. my ideal (dream) goal of weekly? Like I have said many times since February 2016, sometimes God shatters your dream to give birth to a bigger and better dream. Yes, yes He does.

I haven't photographed our new home much yet, because we still haven't got everything on the walls, and there's one more piece of furniture I want to reupholster, and there's a box in our bedroom, and the study lacks its built-in cabinets, and the list goes on and on. ;-) But, the holidays are behind me, my oldest son came and went in a Thanksgiving and Christmas swirl, and is now back in Nashville in his last semester of college, the Christmas rush is through and the decorations are put away, the unpacking frenzy is for all intents and purposes finished, and I can sit at my worktable in Scrap Central and breathe. And think. And ponder. And itch to create. And print photos. And cut paper. It feels so good to have a spot again, albeit an unfinished spot. And I am excited for all of the story telling I can accomplish in 2017. 

But before I head fully into a new year in our new home, I wanted to share with you all my layouts I created in June and July of 2016 that documented our old home. I only completed 99 layouts in 2016, the lowest amount of scrapbook pages I've ever done since beginning to scrapbook in 1994. Out of those 99, these are my favorites by far. These photos, these memories, these layouts were so instrumental in helping me hold together my sanity in the dog days of summer 2016 in the hot, cramped, dark apartment. And they pay homage to our beautiful old home, they document her splendor, they let me say goodbye properly to her, and ultimately they open the door for me to fully embrace our new home, and all the story telling it will cultivate, and all the memories it will create. 

Yes, you do not find the happy life, you make it. One day at a time, one story at a time, one decision at a time, one moment at a time. And once you make it, hang on to it, and embrace it. Hello beautiful new home, hello crisp new year, goodbye old home, goodbye 2016.

There's No Place Like Home ~ June 2015 ~ Remembering Murphy Manor

Sketch Credit: Scrapbook Generation

Paper: October Afternoon, Simple Stories

Title Fonts: Ballerina Script

Your Dreams Stay Big, Your Worries Stay Small

That's my boy there in the green jacket, with the messenger bag and the columbian blue baseball cap worn backwards. That's my boy, away at college, living a life some might say he was born to live. He has always been fairly independent, circling back to the parental units much like a homing pigeon, touching base as needing, remembering where he's from, but not necessarily wanting or needing to hang out there. Big on friendships and social scenes, small on hanging out with us. 

Now, he does love a good family vacation. And he does love us. But just sitting here, chilling with us, not so much. When he hit middle school, he really went into his room for the evenings for the most part, or to the media room. He's my gamer. Not one for TV shows or hanging out downstairs. I took him at face value, never trying to mold him differently, but missing him each night as he headed upstairs. Or, as he aged, headed out to work, or out with friends. 

I think one of the benefits of college is that when they do come home, they do come home. To rest, to recharge, to remember. I think both of my boys really hunkered down at home during Christmas break. Besides family gatherings and church, they didn't really go hang out with friends or do anything. I was surprised, but secretly I loved it. I am glad for the times when we are all back together under one roof.

I was never surprised that Philip planned to go to college. There was never any question. We live in a school district where 94% of graduates go on to some college level work. They are prepped for that. In the fifth grade, you set a trajectory for middle school and at that point, they begin pointing you to college work preparation. I remember quite a few hard discussions with middle school teachers, whom I thought were asking too much of a twelve-year-old. They calmly and firmly let me know that their job was to prepare them for the rigors of high school. And, on the few times that I did talk to one of the boys' high school teachers, they calmly and firmly let me know their job was to prepare them for the rigors of college. And I can say both boys thus far have adapted very well to college. Thank you Tax Dollars, and thank you to their teachers.

When Philip hit the youth group at church, he formed a friendship with Jordan, or J-Money as he was called back in the day. Gosh, that was eight years ago, back in 2007. See, I was the horrible mom that held both of my boys back from starting school one year. So, they were slightly more mature, and both boys connected well with older kids. Philip let me know on numerous occasions, as did Andrew, that I had done them wrong and they were graduating one year late. {If I had it to do over again, I would do the very same thing. Thank you Collins.} At any rate, Philip felt in his heart that he was in the same class as Jordan. So, when Jordan developed senior-itis, Philip did, too. The only problem? Philip was a junior. 

So, by the time Philip's senior year rolled around, we had looked at five colleges before the August school bell rang, kicking off the official countdown. One in Georgia, two in Tennessee, two in Arkansas. That left his senior year to just do some preview weekend experiences and hone down his choices. He did two previews and by November, he had made his selection, falling in love with Nashville as much as, or perhaps even more than, falling in love with the university he picked there.

His plan mapped out, he settled into riding out the last few months as a high school student living under his parents' wings. He made no bones about being ready to leave. I do think there were a few moments toward the end where he got a little sentimental, but the growing urgency of picking out what to take and what to leave at home, and making the list of things to pick up before leaving town quickly overcrowded the little seed of sentimentality. 

Of course, during all of this, mom is finishing his School of Life album, and planning a graduation party, and basically trying to just hold it all together. Goodness. I don't think I've ever cried so much as the day I finished his senior slide show and did the preview of it with the music going. I had picked six songs, with Philip's input, and they were the backdrop to his slideshow, in this order:

• This Is Home - Switchfoot
• Dare You To Move - Switchfoot
• Find Your Wings - Mark Harris
• My Wish - Rascal Flatts
• Home - Philip Phillips
• On My Way - Phil Collins, from Brother Bear

And that ending song finished off the slideshow with my boy looking down the railroad tracks, ready to go.

Tell everybody I'm on my way
New friends and new places to see
With blue skies ahead, yes I'm on my way
And there's no where else that I'd rather be 

Tell everybody I'm on my way
And I'm loving every step I take
With the sun beatin' down, yes I'm on my way
And I can't keep this smile off my face

'Cause there's nothing like seein' each other again
No matter what the distance between
And the stories that we tell will make you smile
Oh it really lifts my heart

So tell 'em all I'm on my way
New friends and new places to see
And to sleep under the stars and could ask for more
With the moon keeping watch over me 

Not the snow not the rain can change my mind
The sun will come out wait and see
And the feeling of the wind in your face can lift your heart
Oh, there's no where I would rather be

'Cause I'm on my way now
Well and truly
I'm on my way now

I'm on my way now 

Tell everybody I'm on my way
And I just can't wait to be there
With blue skies ahead yes I'm on my way
And nothing but good times to share

So, tell everybody I'm on my way
And I just can't wait to be home
With the sun beating down yes I'm on my way
And nothing but good times to show

I'm on my way
Yes, I'm on my way 

I can see that railroad track picture in my mind, and that was June. Fast forward two months, and the college drop-off happened at the speed of light. Oh, Steve and I weren't ready. And I don't think Andrew really was either. But, no mistake, Philip got there, we got him settled, and it was clear as day he was ready for us to go, and for his new life to begin. We rolled onto campus that morning about 9, and rolled off around 4:30. See, we had to get on our way, so that he could get on his way. 

I love seeing this boy in this photo, full of confidence, ready to take on his new life, discover himself, figure out what he's to do with life. My prayer was then, and continues to be, that he enjoys the journey, and isn't reaching only for a future destination, and that he is truly loving every step he takes, with his new friends and new places to see.

Son, I will tell everybody you're on your way. Breathe in the blue sky. Savor the good times. New friends and new places to see. The moon is keeping watch over you. My wish? That your dreams stay big and your worries stay small. Dream big. Adventure is out there.

Sketch Credit: Scrapbook Generation

Paper: Echo Park

Title Fonts: Gurmukhi, Halohandletter 

We Come From a Long Line of Love

We got a glimpse of the new normal today. It's Sunday, Father's Day, and one boy is in St. Louis and one boy is in Houston. We have known this day was coming. There's just not really enough preparing for it. I know it's normal. I know life goes on. I know it's a good thing they leave the nest. Yes, yes. We have been told all of this. We agree. It's just going to take a while for the heart to process what the head has acknowledged.

We made plans for the day for the two of us, and both of us headed into the day with a mind determined to enjoy the day and find some good in it, even though we were home alone. At some point this morning, Steve and I came to the same conclusion while we were at different places doing different things. I think that was a God gift - each of us working out to the same point on our own. 

See, our oldest son is working at eight different camps all over the country this summer. We will see him for the July 4 weekend and for the week before the fall semester starts. He is acting as a counselor to boys at camps, while recruiting for his college. Our youngest son left on Saturday for a week, working in Houston with a team from church, reaching out to refugees. Who could have known last year on Father's Day that it would not be the same this year? Who could have guessed that both boys would be away from home, leaving Father's Day traditions in the dust? Who could have known that when you truly give them roots, you also give them wings?

And that is sort of the realization I made this morning. If you think of Father's Day, and the whole art of raising children, and how a father molds and impacts his children in a way distinctly masculine, and totally different from a mother's love, there is no greater acknowledgement of maybe having done the job well than to have your children off serving. 

People love my husband. I've never argued with "the better half" statement. He is clearly the stronger people person in our partnership. My husband has an amazing servant heart. He is patient. He is thoughtful. He is kind. He is forbearing. He is insightful. He is careful, in the sense that he is full of care. He is funny. He is tender. He is generous. He is compassionate. He is contemplative. He is truly such a gift to  me. 

As the boys age, I love seeing the imprint of their dad on their hearts and how it has been shaping their lives. I believe it is only natural that both of my boys would be out in the world serving today when they have both witnessed from the front row their dad serving on a daily basis - to his family, to his co-workers, to his neighbors, to people at his church. When I ponder that Philip is out serving at youth camps and Andrew is out serving at a refugee camp, I am thankful that Steve has poured into our sons the seed of caring and serving. It has been a blessing to me to be a part of the team that has been nurturing those seeds and helping to water them.

We have had a good day. It's been different, but it's been good. Steve heard from both boys yesterday, and Andrew left a card and gift behind for today. We both have talked to our dads. We have spent time together today celebrating Steve, remembering lots of Father's Days gone by. He's done some of his favorite things - riding his bike, drinking coffee on the patio, seeing a movie, taking a nap, eating some seafood and having ice cream. It's been restful and relaxing. But, it has been different.

As I thought this morning about the boys being gone, out serving others, it made me realize that perhaps the best legacy a father can create is children that love to give to others and to serve others. As I contemplated that today, it brought to mind that it must mean that our fathers long ago felt the same way - that they were okay with us leaving the nest and sharing life with others. And then I remembered that old song by Michael Martin Murphy, "We Come From a Long Line of Love."

I bought a beautiful diamond ring I offered it to the sweetest thing I know
And she said she would take it
We started making some wedding plans she looked at me and she took my hand
And said are you sure we can make it
I said my grand dad's still in love with my grandma
I said my dad still thinks my moms the sweetest thing he ever saw

I come from a long line of love
When the times get hard we don't give up
Forever is in my heart and in me blood

You see I come from a long line of love

Years went by and we had a son now he thinks he found someone for him
And they're planning a wedding
He called me up on the phone today just to see what I had to say to him
Did I think he was ready?
I said what his grandfather used to say to me
Its been handed down for ages it runs in our family

You come from a long line of love
When the times get hard we don't give up

Forever is in your heart and in your blood
Son you come from a long line of love
We come from a long line of love

I guess we do. I know when the times get hard, we don't give up. I know forever is in our heart and in our blood. To my sons I would say today, "You come from a long line of love. We come from a long line of love." Happy Father's Day Steve. It's not just one day around here. It's never been just one day a year that I marvel at how you craft our boys to men. Every day I celebrate that you shine your light before our sons, showing them how to serve, how to love. 

Life with you, with them, through the years has been some kind of wonderful. I am thankful for you as a father and friend to our sons. Life will continue to be some kind of wonderful. When the times get hard, we don't give up. I love that we come from a long line of love.

Some Kind of Wonderful ~ Father's Day ~ June 2009

Sketch Credit: Scrapbook Generation http://scrapbookgeneration.com/index.php?route=product/category&path=213

Paper: My Minds Eye

Love This Memory of You

Andrew's always been my cuddle bear. When the boys were born so close together, it was an obvious, expected, and necessitated choice for Steve and I to tag team with them. Because a baby needs his mom, so much of Andrew's first year was spent in my lap, while Steve tended to toddler Philip. Whew. Some of those days were long and rough. I will always be incredibly thankful, though, that we had our babies back to back. It has gifted each of us, all four of us, in so many ways, and it created the fabric of our family.

But, I guess it's normal for a mom to be attached a little more in her heart to her baby. Even if the youngest child were identical to the oldest child, the mom is going to feel the emotion more as she goes through the last of everything. As fun and adventurous as the first of everything is, a woman is wired to be poignant and reminiscent, in my mind, anyway, as she finishes up things. I think, for those reasons, in my heart I have a unique bond with both boys. Philip was my introduction to everything and Andrew was my finale.

And, oh, how I loved elementary school with my boys. I was blessed to be able to be at home with the boys from Philip's birth up until Andrew began 6th grade. Yep. I was at every Christmas and Valentine party that occurred, and went on as many field trips as they would allow. So, Andrew's 5th grade year was my mom swan song - my last chance to do all of the fun things. Having a child simultaneously in 5th and a child in 6th, I knew there was no need for mom at the junior high school campus. And so, determinedly, I dug into 5th grade even more zealously than I imagined I could.

I was incredibly honored to be asked to be the 5th Grade Coordinator at the boys' elementary school, and I adored working with the three teachers Andrew had that last year. To this day, I keep up with his homeroom 5th grade teacher via Facebook and am totally reveling in watching her now raise three little punkin' heads. Meghan was a jewel and she just made the year so glorious for all of the kids. The fact that I had a VIP backstage pass was a bonus.

When we moved from the valley to Plano ISD in 2005, we all got an education. PISD definitely had a certain way that things worked. They had an extensive and interesting 5th grade curriculum. It makes for an amazing year for the kids, full of integrated learning units. We worked through Immigration Day and Colonial Week and Biography Night...and had fun all along the way. And one of the neatest things they do is to have a graduation celebration for each 5th grade class...and a reunion at the elementary school for the 12th grade graduating seniors. 

Because I was the 5th Grade Coordinator, I was up at the school many days and long hours. It was so wonderful to be such an integrated part of Andrew's final year of elementary school, my final year of elementary school. As I type this, I am awaiting Andrew's senior photo shoot pictures to appear in Drop Box. And so, as I looked at photos of my many layouts, and as I prepare to soon watch this baby boy of mine cross the stage, it seems natural to look back at this 2007 milestone and ponder graduation celebrations.

As I consider the 6'2" young man who has a black cap and gown hanging in the guest closet, I am drawn to the memory of this little boy. Andrew was always tender hearted to his classmates. He was the child whose best friend for the first four years of school was the sweet little boy who was so shy he did not speak. Andrew has always been accepting of all and even seeks out those that he feels need a little extra some something. Andrew is very loyal. His friend, pictured with him on the far right, ended up defeating him in the student council race, and Andrew shook it off and kept right on with the friendship.

This little boy heart was as sweet as he was shy. He would sit quietly, listening to it all, taking it all in, processing it...and add a comment when it was least expected, in the moment or days afterward. That little thinking boy scored a 29 on the ACT without cracking a book and can solve a Rubik's Cube in seconds. And he is still mildly shy...but he can and often does bring a room to laughter with a quick-witted retort to any kind of comment.

I love his story. All of it. It has been my pleasure to have a front row seat to every chapter. From his little head nestling against my neck, to his chubby hands bringing me flowers, to his tween body getting ice cream with me, to his tall lumbering frame sharing his comic book heroes with me. I have counted all of it joy. It has been my pleasure. It has been a celebration in my heart to have him in my life. 

In 5 weeks we will have our reunion at Hunt. I didn't go with Philip and he said they all asked about me. Who knew moms could go? And then in 6 weeks, we will have one more graduation ceremony with my Andrew. And I will spend the next 6 weeks smiling at this boy, remembering his story, cherishing all of the chapters, and loving how God has crafted him into the young man that he is. 

We will embrace this coming senior high graduation celebration and we will remember fondly this 5th grade graduation celebration, and we will work even harder to remember all the way back to his kindergarten graduation. And as we dream, we look forward to his someday college graduation. I do love this 5th grade memory of him. And I love all my memories of him.

Graduation Celebration ~ Andrew's 5th Grade Graduation ~ May 2007 

Sketch Credit: Scrapbook Generation http://scrapbookgeneration.com/index.php?route=product/category&path=213

Paper: October Afternoon

Fonts: Comic Sans, Pacifico