In all the excitement of my in-laws’ visit, I didn’t have time to share with you what happened the day before they arrived.
Two Thursdays ago, around 6:30 p.m., I sat down at a favorite, local restaurant all by my lonesome. All by my glorious lonesome. Brian and I try to set aside time each week for me to run away from home so I can write, and I generally prefer restaurants over our local Starbucks—mainly because there is a “regular” at this Starbucks who insists on wearing headphones and singing Italian opera at the top of her tone-deaf lungs.
[Tone-deaf lungs? That makes no sense.]
If lungs could be tone-deaf, this woman should donate hers to science.
It has become a ritual of mine to take photos of the cemetery here on Fort Leavenworth at various times of day, in different seasons, on holidays, and under certain weather conditions. There’s something about the pristine uniformity of this military cemetery that makes it so beautiful to me. And never is that more true than when the grounds are covered in a blanket of clean, undisturbed snow.
I look at the innumerable headstones and remember that each one represents a living soul: a man, woman or (in some cases) teenager who was willing to take an oath to defend our nation against our enemies.
One of my very best friends (a fellow military spouse) and I had a conversation recently about Christmas and how we want our kids to experience this magical time of year. My friend is a fellow Christian who home schools her 4 kids—all of whom are young enough to believe in Santa Claus.
Before I go any further, I have to let you know that this post is a Santa spoiler alert. So, if you have a habit of curling up by the fire and reading my posts aloud to your children, now would be a good time to forgo that routine. Instead, you might want to read them something a bit less scarring.
Back to my story…
In case you’re wondering why my posts have been pretty infrequent around here, I’m now able to share with you the reason why. I have been working on a story so near and dear to my heart that I have poured all of my free time and energy into it. This is a story so incredible that I flew from Kansas back to Georgia to capture it.
It’s a story about my Grandmother, Geraldine “Gerry” Hinesley, and the man who was her first love.
A story about a letter she wrote and how it arrived 69 years later…
“She opens her mouth with wisdom,
and the teaching of kindness is on her tongue.
She looks well to the ways of her household
and does not eat the bread of idleness.
Her children rise up and call her blessed;
her husband also, and he praises her:
‘Many women have done excellently,
but you surpass them all.’
Charm is deceitful, and beauty is vain,
but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised.”
(Proverbs 31:26-30, ESV)
When the author of the second part of Proverbs 31 “penned” these words, I can only imagine he must have known a woman like this:
Does anyone else feel like they’re watching an episode of Days of Our Lives with everything that has been going on with this whole General Petraeus scandal? It’s almost like Days of Our Lives meets Army Wives meets Real Housewives meets The (Married) Bachelor.
I found a fun, new way to creep out your neighborhood, Starbucks barista!
After my hubby got home from his class this afternoon, I decided to go grab a coffee and head to the grocery store – alone. Believe me, after a cross-country flight to Atlanta and a scream-filled road trip to Montgomery, Alabama, I needed some solo time.
I once got my entire family (grandparents, parents, aunts, uncles and cousins) kicked out of Walmart.
Do you know how difficult it is to get kicked out of Walmart? Have you seen People of Walmart?
I don’t think they would even kick out a vengeful leper carrying a rabid armadillo. But we sure got kicked out…all because of me.
Here’s the Reader’s Digest version of what happened:
Sometimes I think I’m still on the fence about this whole idea of homeschooling our kids (now 2 1/2 and 1). I KNOW it’s what I want to do, I just don’t know if I’m cut out for it.