When I was a child I remember seeing
commercials for 18 hour bras. They confused me. I mean - first:
what was the big deal about bra comfort? Second, how on earth could
someone be in need of a bra for 18 hours straight? And third, do
people really grow up and think “I want to model my underwear on
national television?”
Most of the time I still feel like I am
12. Mentally, I'm just sitting around waiting for someone to tell me
what I should do and how things are gonna go down. In the meantime,
I just do whatever hits me in the 18 hour chunks called “a day.”
Jarod and I roll over in the morning after the alarm goes off and
begin whispering our prayers to one another. You know, the age old,
“Dear Jesus, please help us to make it through today. Help us not
to permanently damage each other, our children, or anyone we come
into contact with in the next 24 period. And please fix anything and
anyone we really mess up. And sorry in advance... and we'll touch
base again in like 7 minutes. Thanks. Amen.” And then we just hold
on. For 18 hours. Denture appointments with the guys, or sorting the
300 sockets that they just dumped out of the back of the
four-wheeler, flus and funerals, halloween costuming, women's
retreats, trips to Oklahoma, packing 35 years of sentimental junk,
logistics for students and staff, scrubbing floors (although apparently not
often enough), and …..
I hear this is how your thirties goes.
For everyone. It is a great decade. But you don't have time to
remember it. And maybe in my sixties I'll review what happened this
month. I will search the archives of the internet and find the
horrific reports of the hurricane on the east coast, hindsight will
be 20/20 on the election, and I will even probably be able to find
out what great sales I did NOT coupon.
But only here can I archive the
following photos. Glimpses of the beautiful, crazy, 18 hour days that
we are living... one after another.
Glimpses of the months when I began to
grow up, began to realize it is all about SUPPORT.
In a prayer.
In a friend.
In a husband.
In a bra.
You just need support.
(Well, 3 out of 4 isn't bad.)
And it is all about thankfulness... because however my life is turning out, I still don't have to model bras on national television. And considering how unpredictable life REALLY is ~ I'm glad it didn't head down that road...
Here's the road we were on this month. (In no particular order.)
Some photos of the finished fence (Thank you Andrea for pointing out their absence.)
I live in an Estate. It's pretty flippin'' awesome if you ask me.
This series is from Pumpkin picking... and selling
Here's our "girl's" afternoon while the men were in the desert.
And halloween.
Some people go out.
Like my in-laws apparently... who made the kids the best costume EVER.
Oh and here's some photo's of the international hot dog roast at Bethesda earlier this month.
(thanks to Allen for the photos since I got 0).
On a side note: This is what I want from the 150 international students who cameo out and enjoyed an evening of perfect weather on the farm with the men. I want them to go back to whatever corner of the world they came from with a photo or a memory, a feeling of peace and to say to a friend, "Hey, guess what handicapped people can do? Guess what awesome, fun lives they can lead and share with others? Where are our handicapped people?........"
Like these three girls upstairs. They are awesome. Thy have determination and beauty and they will change the world. Their sign is their own commitment NOT to speak anything but English even among themselves. I wanted to cry I was proud of them.
Oh and here are the photos from the desert trip.
No one died. No one was seriously injured.
And when 2 seven year old boys and 4 handicapped men and three irresponsible men (one of which drank gasoline) are put in the following position... that is more than any mother or wife can hope for.
