WEIGHED IN THE BALANCE

At last the 2016 election is over and America has spoken. With policy issues so extremely diverse and citizens so divided, commenting on the outcome and especially documenting opinions for public view may mark the writer forever. My views are conservative with no apology, and I attribute the base of my convictions to my religion. Of course, I wish for economic improvement and peace in the world, but as government affects me, personally, religion is at the core.

I’m committed and actively practice strong biblical beliefs, and as a Christian, I, of course, wish to encourage all individuals within my influence to agree with what I believe to be the truth of the Bible. However, God created mankind with freedom of choice, and America is a free society where others may believe as they choose. As a Christian, I am commanded by God to love all people, even my enemies, and to seek the best for all mankind. For this reason, sharing the earth with people of all ideologies is my Christian calling. My greatest fear in our present world is that so many have determined that my ideology is unacceptable and must be changed. WHAT HAPPENED TO RELIGIOUS FREEDOM?

A few ambitious liberal activists are at work trying to discredit Christianity as the cause of all problems. When religious leaders speak out quoting their biblical reasons for their decisions, they are immediately labeled as bigoted, racist, and all those other adjectives that we hear used to segregate Bible believers. Lack of Bible knowledge, and especially how to study the book, contributes greatly to the controversies that surround its teachings. Reading the Bible without basic knowledge of the time lines, the general divisions of history, and basic faith in the God of the Bible will leave the casual reader without proper understanding of its truth. The Bible comments on this subject in 2 Timothy 2:15 admonishing the Bible student to “rightly divide” the scriptures.

This past week media sources have been energized to debate this subject, and it has amazed and depressed this writer to see so many biased opinions – all of them in opposition to what they refer to as “fundamentalist evangelicals.” A secondary issue is the “absolute, dogged” insistence that the media opinion is “right” condemning the Christian and advocating action to “make Christianity change.”

One of my favorite television programs is under such scrutiny at the present time. I’m sure you are aware of this controversy. The hosts, Chip and Joanna Gaines, of FIXER UPPER, HGTV, are being criticized for attending a church that adheres to biblical concepts of morality. The point is this witch hunt has been perpetrated by a liberal activist media with the only agenda being to persecute Christian behavior. The TV show is about renovating homes and makes no reference to religion. If this TV show is cancelled because the actors attend a particular church, WHERE DOES THIS END?

I’m writing this blog taking a stand for religious freedom. Most of you who read this know me and my views on religion. Christians are in danger of losing precious freedoms that our founding fathers framed for America. And they do this in the name of freedom for all people. Our Constitution protects us from this behavior, and unless we stand strong and speak out, those who would interpret freedom to be fluid and subject to the changing times will continue eroding our religious freedom to worship as we choose.

Let me challenge fundamentalists who practice immersion (baptism) to research social media groups who suggest that baptism is “waterboarding” and should be outlawed. Never in America! Are you sure about that? Christians if we don’t wake up, stand up, and speak up, we will find our church doors locked by law, or our buildings empty because people are afraid to continue worshiping in public. These are dangerous times, and Christians are challenged to PROVE their commitment to God.  We must pray for our country, stay informed of leader’s actions, and be vigilant, knowing God is in control, and He expects us to defend and obey His Word. Will we be “weighed in the balances and found wanting?” Daniel 5:27.

WHAT A WONDERFUL WORLD

The end of another year brings about a time for renewing values and goals while reflecting on the past. 2016 has been a trying year for everyone, even children and the elderly.  However, we have survived the year, the election is over, and we are faced with an uncertain future. As I think back over the years, I remember the same reflections and anxieties followed all changes in our world. So with confidence I look forward to the future expecting all is well. God is in control and the sun will rise tomorrow. I’m beginning my fourth year residing in New Orleans. A city defined by its art and music, I have written several poems inspired by its charm and history, but I cannot compete with the haunting beauty and magic of a ballad written by Robert Thiele and George David Weiss, WHAT A WONDERFUL WORLD. First recorded in 1967 by New Orleans’ own talented musician, the great Louis Armstrong, the melody echoes in my mind as I remember the gruff, powerful style of Mr. Armstrong as he smiled singing out, as only he could do, the awesome lyrics of the lovely ballad. The music expresses the theme that, although knowledge and education are important, only love and appreciation for the priceless treasures of life make the world a wonderful place. As you read these simple, inspiring words, let them speak to your heart.

                       I see trees of green, red roses too
                       I see them bloom for me and you
                       And I think to myself what a wonderful world.

                        I see skies of blue and clouds of white
                        The bright blessed day, the dark sacred night
                        And I think to myself what a wonderful world.

                         The colors of the rainbow so pretty in the sky
                         Are also on the faces of people going by
                         I see friends shaking hands saying how do you do
                         They're really saying I love you.

                         I hear babies crying, I watch them grow
                         They'll learn much more than I'll never know
                         And I think to myself what a wonderful world
                         Yes, I think to myself what a wonderful world.

As I reflect on these thoughts, I realize how vital a positive attitude is to our health and mental well-being. As I continue the December of my life, I resolve to rise up each morning with thanks to God for trees of green, skies of blue, birds singing, babies crying, friends and family loving me, and Louis Armstrong’s echoing melody drifting on the breeze to remind me WHAT A WONDERFUL WORLD I am blessed to enjoy. I wish everyone a MERRY CHRISTMAS AND A HAPPY NEW YEAR.

          

ADDING TO THE NOISE

I’ve been practicing good behavior and trying to avoid the political forum. However, I’ve been surfing today, and the news media can make one’s head spin. Tempted beyond what I’m able… I must add my chorus to the noise.  Wow, it’s November again, and I’ve lived through another year. And what a year it has been. I’m grateful for reasonably good health. At least, I’m still ambulatory, alert on most days, and my 83rd birthday is just around the corner.  The world welcomed me on November 8, 1933, exactly one year after Franklin Roosevelt was elected to his first term as President on November 8, 1932. Since that time, two other Presidents were elected on my birthday;  John Kennedy and George Bush, the elder.  Election Day occurs on November 8^th every 28 years. Therefore, on Tuesday, November 8^th, a new President will be selected on my birthday again.

With very mixed emotions, I have already voted for my choice. In view of my conservative principles, this election has aroused a number of emotions to be endured while so much controversy has permeated our culture. For an elderly citizen, the political trend has been alarming and difficult to accept. Although my years are certainly numbered on this planet, I am fearful of the world I must leave for my grandchildren. I can only hope and pray that the future generation will return to God realizing that the liberal world will bring them a painful existence  A study of history reveals the demise of cultures in past generations that embraced immorality, socialism, and the lust for power and materialism. I wish it were not so, but we should be warned.

I fear, while our nation is distracted by the globalist, greedy for power, hungering for wealth, blinding citizens to the truth, our leaders of the ever-growing government will allow a profound, long-developing CHANGE to occur in our world. Europe is already falling to this dark, oppressive form of slavery. Mrs. Clinton stands in allegiance with Islam. Although her motives are greed and power, she will be defenseless against the rise in Islamic power when indeed their numbers reach the majority. The western world as we know it will disappear. At this writing, she is the frontrunner, and may be President.

As a Christian, I could live beside Islam with normal exchange of ideas as long as they allowed me freedom to exist in peace. However, Americans, look around you and notice that where Islam governs, unbelievers (those who reject Islam) are eliminated or must submit to their (Islamic) law. Those of you who espouse atheistic ideology will find you also will adhere to Islam or be eliminated.  Historically, these are the facts. My Christian faith will not allow me to submit to Islam. It is my observation that Islam expects me to leave God and bow to their god, to be content with sharia law, and submit to the fallacy of the Quran.  I will die before accepting such government.

So, as I said, I voted for conservative policy, a conservative Supreme Court, strict adherence to the First and Second Amendments, law and order in our streets, freedom to speak and worship as I choose, a less intrusive government, respect for authority, and a strong military. Theodore Roosevelt said, “Speak softly, but carry a big stick.” I refuse to be intimidated by those who threaten saying my views are flawed. I stand for the America I once loved, where we felt safe, cared for each other, and could respect our leaders even though they were not perfect. Donald Trump is sometimes crude, untried, inexperienced, and a risk, but he seems sincere, and at this point, we have nothing to lose. Although Hillary Clinton is well-known, having lived off the tax payers for all her adult life, she is deceitful, dishonest, self-serving, manipulative, flawed, predictable, and unwise in judgment. I cannot support her globalist lust for power and greed.

Eleanor Roosevelt said, “No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.” I stand a CONSERVATIVE VOTER, without shame, unabashed, with hope that new leaders will serve our nation wisely, protecting our freedom from threats from without and within, while allowing us to move forward in peace and prosperity. In the December of my life, with years of experience on the exciting roller coaster ride called living,  I am convinced, one fact is evident. Almighty God of the Bible is in control, and when He has had enough…check your history. Oh, how the mighty have fallen!  VOTE your INFORMED conscience, and STAND ready to DEFEND your values. America is in trouble.

RELEASE OF CHILDREN'S BOOKS

       

In talking with teachers and those involved in the education of our children, I hear the call for reading material appropriate for children.  Over the years, I have worked with children encouraging them to develop skills that will expand their writing talent.  However, I only recently became interested in writing for the young.  With a new enthusiasm, I rose to the challenge and called upon my penchant for imagination and fantasy to pen four children’s books.  They are being introduced on Amazon.com, both paperback and Kindle.  I hope you will check them out and consider these books as a Christmas gift for your child. I ask that you provide feedback to help with the impact of these titles.  Feedback both positive and negative.  Without input, those who endeavor to provide good literature for your children become discouraged and abandon the difficult task of penning suitable children’s books. 

BOBBY AND THE RIDE is a fantasy of Bobby’s adventure at an entertainment park where he soars above the park seeing his books come to life. Best suited to early primary children just beginning to read.

JUMBO JONAH is a fantasy of the adventures of Jake and Mark, twelve-year-old boys, who find themselves marooned on an island with dinosaurs. In present day Texas, Mark survives a lightning strike and experiences an exciting adventure to challenge the imagination. From eight years to adult.

WILBUR WOLF is another fantasy adventure of Jake and Mark as they join with their Scout Troop for a summer camping trip.  Mark discovers he has a remarkable ability to communicate with animals since surviving a lightning strike one year earlier. As the result of this phenomena, Mark discovers he has knowledge that could mean life or death for the campers. From eight years to adult.

HERSHEY BOY is a light-hearted true tale of the life of a free-spirited Labrador Retriever.  Hershey brought joy to our lives for many years.  Through his life, I found that I often wondered what he might be thinking. Inspired by these thoughts, I wrote this story as imagined from Hershey’s point of view. From eight years old to adult.

I hope you will review these books and find them suitable for your children’s library. Grandparents check them out as the answer to that always challenging question, “What can I get my grandchild for Christmas?”

HOOKED ON BOOKS

HOOKED ON BOOKS is my motto and the force that drives my interest in writing. In honesty, today’s reader must guard with diligence the selection of reading material to be embraced, and the writer must guard against allowing writing talent to digress into the pit of trash simply to cater to the decline in moral character reigning in the world today.

Writers stay informed of the publications that appear on the shelves of our Libraries, as well as the best sellers in the publishing market. Some of the publications labeled as literature astound me. Classic authors of the past would turn over in their graves if they could review what we read today.  Of course, that assumes we’re reading anything.  Many folks will tell you they do not read books at all.  Movies and television have influenced our habits and robbed us of imagination and creativity.

 A brief research of our library shelves reveals the rapid disappearance of printed reading material, and the robust market of replacement with electronics. I’m not at all opposed to the electronic world, but certainly a backup system is needed to assure that the printed book does not become a relic of the past. When the electric grid fails, one can depend on the printed book that can be read by firelight as Abraham Lincoln found to be quite dependable.

The disappearance of books from the literary world pales in comparison to the disappearance of well-composed, grammatically correct, interesting page-turning literature. Pornography, colorful language, and graphic violence drive the literary market today filling the pages with useless repetition, extensive descriptive language simply to add pages, flat characters without dimension, plotless content without hooks to create interest, and stories are completely devoid of rhythm. A well-written story should glide seamlessly connecting one sentence to the next with rhythm as in a piece of music.

 Much of present day creative writing lacks the plot driven story with a beginning to grab the reader’s attention, conflict to ignite his emotions, rhythm to pace his interest, and conclusions that complete and guide the story to a memorable ending. However, hope for the future remains when  among the brass, one finds the golden voice of excellence rising to enrich the reader’s experience with writing that excels in composition and content. We must recognize, nourish,  and encourage the writer with exceptional talent.

Conversely, new and fresh approaches in creative writing with realistic changes that enhance readability in grammar, structure, and content are appreciated and accepted by writers educated in the twentieth century. However, like teaching an old dog new tricks, older writers often oppose and reject new ideas. I try to keep pace with changes, and I appreciate obvious improvements.

Back to comparing books and electronics, as a reader, I prefer to hold a book in my hands, turn the pages, and see the book standing in my bookshelf for future reference. I own a Kindle, and I enjoy the convenience in the doctor’s office and other places of waiting. As a writer, I enjoy creating book covers that complement my story, and I enjoy seeing my adventures come to life on the written page. Books are creations that should be treasured for the value they bring to the world of literature, as well as the knowledge and experience they add to our culture. Visiting and supporting our Libraries will ensure the longevity of the printed page. Reading is a rich and rewarding hobby. Become HOOKED ON BOOKS and visit your Library often.

LABOR DAY

     Turn around twice and it’s fall already. I find the passing of time like the spindle’s shuttle, so quickly the hours and days roll into the past.  This summer has been filled with rain, drought and wild fire, flooding and more rain.  We are so wet in New Orleans that I’m afraid we are all going to grow web feet.  We have a canoe on a rack in the back yard.  I suggested maybe we should take it down and check to be sure it’s seaworthy. If the rain continues, we may need to use it.

 The last holiday of the summer will be this Monday.  Labor Day transports me to warm memories of past family picnics and community festivities.  Labor Day signals the end of summer and is celebrated on the first Monday of September.  The day is set aside to pay tribute to working men and women.  Labor organizers have celebrated the day since 1894 in the US and Canada. Early festivities included picnics and community gatherings usually organized by unions and company owners to celebrate solidarity in the work place.

Also, as I grew up, the first day of school always occurred on the day after Labor Day. Excited and anxious for a new year, we loved the last weekend of summer.  Always, the event meant new clothes and a new pair of shoes.  These were treasured items in the days of WWll rationing. As I became an adult and moved into the work force myself, the three day weekend usually became a special family time spent getting children ready for school.

 Labor Day also marks another dated habit of women of my generation.  On Memorial Day we begin to wear white shoes, carry white purses, and, in the old days, donned white hats and gloves. However, the stylish, fashionable lady removes the white items on Labor Day and stores them until next Memorial Day. I wonder how many still observe these habits from the past?

So I will wear my white shoes this Sunday, and then store them away until May.  At my age, I can’t help wondering if I will be here next May. With that unhappy thought, I will take my last pills of the evening and retire for the night to wake tomorrow with a happy heart ready to enjoy the last hooray of this summer 2016. I wish you a very pleasant end of summer also.

THE POLICE OFFICER

America are you learning from this weekend's experience? Without law and those to enforce it, we have ANARCHY! I wrote this poem some time ago as a tribute to my brother. It says everything I feel tonight about those who guard my home, and will be there if I need help. What would we do without them?

 

THE POLICE OFFICER

When I hear a siren in the city at night

I cringe at the thought of what may be the plight

Of some young officer who is making that call

Will he survive or is it his time to fall

So many give their all on our streets today

Trying to protect the citizens who pay

Little respect to the police officer who may die

In his quest to keep peace; one must ask why

To know an officer who guards our streets

To know his heart, his strength, his feats

To know his character; his inner soul

To share his vision, his life-long goal

To know he walks with danger each day

To know he is fearful in the same way

As any soldier who has chosen to care

Looking after others, his life to share

I know such a one who is retired today

He holds a gold badge of honor to pay

No fortune was made as a cop on the street

The motor, the squad car or walk the beat

His family lived in comfort, ‘tis true

They lived in fear of each day too

“Will Dad come home after duty tonight?”

Always that little under tone of fright

Many of our citizens understand

The plight of law officers over this land

How the danger rises with lack of respect

The breakdown in society and its effect

  

No longer is an officer in control of a scene

He stands to be judged by a freak movie theme

He is stressed by the thought of losing control

He knows he must stand firm and be bold

Then there are those who in their haste

Make unwise judgments resulting in waste

Or possibly the loss of an innocent life

The officer never recovers from the strife

An officer’s routine has always been clear

Keep his back to the wall and a keen ear

Eyes always moving, a hand ready to defend

With the action required when lawless offend

He may spend hours to direct traffic on his feet

In the hot sun or gusting rain on the street

He walks bravely into the domestic fight

Not knowing what’s next or what is right

He chokes on the nausea that rises to his neck

As he pulls the injured child from a mangled wreck

He struggles with anger and rage when a call

Takes him to a killing, small children and all

He thinks for a moment as he walks to the car

Of the lawbreaker he just beckoned from afar

Will he be a calm citizen who just didn’t think

Or is he a drunkard with too much to drink

And the stopped car the officer must check

Could be a criminal or a dangerous suspect

Who is waiting with hatred for the law

And anxious to kill any officer he saw

Or he may face the stricken deranged man

Who is determined to take his life if he can

In his mindless panic he threatens the cop

Who is there to try to convince him to stop

  

The officer tries to calm the tragic scene

But a distraught broken man it seems

Loses control, the officer faces the gun

Shots are fired; it’s a game never won

In spite of his courage and love for his job

He must feel the struggle and how he is robbed

Of time to be with his family he adores

On overtime he completes paper work galore

He finally goes home, puts his feet on the stool

Turns on the TV and some media fool

Condemns his comrades without reason or facts

Of being in the wrong, always bad police acts

He is the first to condemn his fellow brother

When he makes a bad call in one way or another

He knows they are human and subject to panic

Some may waver, become careless and frantic

He supports the law who take up the task

With investigation and for the facts ask

The officer must be punished for his mistake

He police life is over, the badge they must take

For those in the right who follow the rule

Call for equal justice and tempers to cool

Let the judge make decision of what is fair

No system is perfect, it’s human to err

He asks for respect for his badge and authority

To be remembered as one who in the majority

Upholds the law and respects all human kind

Honor him; THE POLICE OFFICER with YOUR welfare in mind

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, AMERICA

    "I'm tired and my head aches!"

Independence Day, July 4, 2016, will be dawning in a few hours and the hustle and bustle of celebrating will begin.  I’m awake in the wee hours of the morning contemplating the fact that I have survived another year.  To be honest, I’m reasonably healthy with only a few issues for an old lady of 82 years.  I do have to make adjustments in certain behavior patterns, I’m told, and I have to be willing to accept certain limits and responsibilities. It’s called being agreeable, peaceful, and mature about matters of concern. Sometimes the changes are like pills that are swallowed with difficulty.  I don’t always like what I must do, but as we grow older, issues arise that must be addressed, and not always as I would choose.

As I think about my country, with its 240^th birthday today, I contemplate the fact that it has survived another year. However, in honesty, I’m truly worried about its health. Just like me, America has to swallow some pills she may not like. My observations reveal that without considerable healing, my country’s future may be in dire circumstance. Lady Liberty holds her torch high on her 240th, but she has suffered wounds from without and within, some painful that struggle to heal, some with dreadful side effects that continue to seethe under the surface while she refuses to “search for and respond to” treatment.

In her weakened state threatened from every side, she trembles with the fever of discontentment, refuses to try adjustments in behavior and rejects the responsibility to take risks that have always been common to her existence. She cowers in fear and scuffs at the suggestion that she needs a good dose of history to remind her of where she has been and where she should be going.  She closes her eyes and recoils like an animal that has been beaten and abused instead of rising up as she did in her youth to reject the wickedness and flex her muscles with courage to defend what is right in the world.

She turns her head when healing ideas are placed on her plate, and refuses to consider older and wiser counsel from those who have made the journey before, survived the disease of war and wickedness, and have learned that love and tender care can be a solution, only when there is undivided attention and a dogged resolve to survive.  She buries her head in the sand of pleasure and the comfort of nanny state deep pockets without thought of consequences.  She refuses to recognize enemies (the disease of self-indulgence, hatred, ignorance, and humanistic culture) that has left her exposed without defense against the blight of warriors who have determined to take her life.

As we fire up our BBQ pits, ice down the cold drinks, spread the sumptuous tables with baked beans and potato salad, and enjoy the pleasures of a fruitful nation silently living in a guarded kind of despair, my hope is that my country will submit to self-examination, recognize the pain that comes with aging, and contemplate the changes that must be made to adjust to the illness that has overtaken her by swallowing those pills that she must to make life rewarding to all  citizens, to accept what cannot be changed, and to find contentment in whatever state she is found. 

As I view old glory today flying gracefully in the sun and enjoy the safety of the backyard BBQ, I pray for my country to return to the God who guided our forefathers.  I hope to live to see her 241^st birthday with a new resolve to reassure citizens that she is strong, brave, and willing to guard the freedom so many have died to preserve.  Like me, she is old, but she is strong, she is stubborn, and she may be a bit sick today, but she will not go silently without a fight. Resolve with me today, in that so much as it depends upon you, America will heal and thrive to greet many more birthdays. Happy Birthday, America.

ABOUT WEDDINGS - Homeward Bound

 PART SEVEN 

Back at the hotel after the Wedding, I said goodbye to Tracey’s parents and other family members. Everyone had plans to leave early next morning. After asking several times about our departure hour, I just gave up and when the first light of day drifted through the blinds Sunday morning, I dragged my tired, aching bones out of bed and packed my bags ready to head for home.  Rising early on Sunday is habitual for me as I go to worship at 9:00 each Sunday.

 

Robyn, an early riser, began her “cheer-leading routine” to get everyone down to breakfast ready to depart.  The ride home would include a two-car caravan with Mandy and Maggie traveling with us. Of course, goodbyes took time as Tracey’s family lingered for last moments together. We climbed in the van around 10:00 with destination Paris, Texas. With stretching room available in the van after unloading Heather’s belongings, I had visions of an easier trip home.

However, a wavering edge of concern swept through my mind, as I remembered the fourteen-year-old van had accumulated another 1000 miles since we arrived in Woodward a week ago. Robyn checked the duct tape repairs deciding we may make it home without further attention to that minor   problem. After a brief delay waiting for Mandy, who stayed at La Quinta Hotel close by (where pets are welcome), our caravan headed east toward Louisiana.

Robyn, well-organized, prompt, and impatient, frazzled with the frustrating week of following orders instead of giving them, climbed behind the wheel for the first stint of driving.  Tasha, her navigator with Siri as the source of information, did her best to accommodate her Mom. The truth is not all States are visitor-friendly, and in my opinion, Oklahoma, Texas, and Louisiana fall into the category of limited interest in the plight of their visitors.  The road signs are all there, but you need to be quick to catch them, because there are few warnings about what comes next. 

Tasha, always on the hunt for coffee shops, had predetermined where she wanted to stop. She loaded her X-Files story, leaned back to listen, and navigated.  With Mandy, Tracey, and Maggie following us, we crossed the Oklahoma countryside again enjoying the fascinating windmill farms and other scenery.  I still had the Oklahoma shawl in progress although its length had grown considerably in the last week. I listened to X-files and napped along the way.

We stopped at places we had been before knowing they would have Tasha’s coffee and a rest room, not always easy to find in the rural regions of our route.  In the afternoon with the temperatures climbing to near 100 degrees, Father’s Day travelers abundant, and two cars filled with tired, road weary passengers and a dog, we pulled into the Teepee Truck Stop again. Robyn checked the taillight rigging to see if the duct tape held and breathed a sigh of relief that we were nearing halfway with no additional problems.

Back on the road after food in the Teepee plaza, a long walk for Maggie, and a good stretch for us, we continued making good progress. In spite of the ragged, rough roads just as apparent in the southbound lane as we found traveling northbound last week, the old Dodge van rolled along groaning and complaining with scary sounds to alarm its passengers at times.   I remembered many of the political hopefuls giving lip-service to our failing highway system, but little preference to budgeting for changes when the opportunity arises. They drive from airport to airport in air-conditioned limos and fly over these State highways without spending one minute riding on the surface. Why should they care about my aching bones from a day of riding in a car? Maybe we should stop paying for limos and airplanes and see that our lawmakers spend a few hours living like we do. Use the money wasted on their comfort to rebuild our roads and bridges. What an idea!

Anyway, we arrived at our destination in East Texas, a La Quinta Hotel where Maggie is welcome, later than hoped, dark-thirty. Tired and road-weary, we unloaded and ordered food from a nearby restaurant. Rising early next morning, following a restless night, I waited patiently for the rest. Robyn returned from checking the van to announce we had missed breakfast.  They closed the hotel breakfast area at 9:00 am. Thanks, La Quinta for advising us of that feature of your service. Guess we are spoiled by city behavior and time schedules. Needing breakfast right away, we found a Sonic Drive In with a picnic area that looked appealing.  We could have a leisurely breakfast, and Maggie could join us at the picnic table. Great! A good start for our last day.

Back on the road again, they hashed out which direction we should be going and finally got both cars headed south. Tasha set up X-files to find out “if that last character lived or died” in the long-winded story started yesterday. Also alert and determined to find the coffee shop (the one with the East Texas charm and lousy hot tea), she set a course for an exit that apparently went awry somehow. We wandered throughout the Texas countryside finally ending up on dirt roads with dead-ends and never found the coffee shop. With Robyn’s patience running out, and Tracey questioning from her cell phone of the driving alertness in the lead car, we gave up searching for the charming wooden floors and local cultural appeal of that unique coffee shop. We’ll catch it next trip!

When we began to see the long bridges and swamp lands of Louisiana, and the sun dropped low in my eyes, I had to give up knitting and admit, I’m really tired. Mandy, a careful, obedient to the rules driver, whom I commend for that wonderful trait, apparently got on Robyn’s last nerve.  Her lead foot had only one goal; she had to be at the office the next morning. “Tracey, you drive. I want to get home,” she said as the sun dropped into the horizon, and it became evident, it would be dark-thirty when we arrived in New Orleans.

Back home again, my trappings unloaded, I kicked off my shoes and leaned back in my comfortable chair to contemplate the week. I realized the whole “thing” had been a riveting, stressful experience for me.  A week of being attentive, supportive, and alert with many strangers, in a strange place to honor a young woman, who had been in my life since she was four years old, had been trying at times for an old lady like me, but rewarding as well with treasured memories. And the road trip, oh, well, it’s over.  Maybe I should write about it, after all, that’s what I do with most of my time anyway. And that white shawl, the Oklahoma shawl, I should get that finished too. As Scarlet O’Hara said, “I’ll think about that tomorrow!”

                                                     CAN YOU BELIEVE IT!

                                                                 THE END

                                                                    

ABOUT WEDDINGS - PHOTO OP

PART SIX

I’m sharing photos taken by family members during the week.  Heather will post the official pictures when they are available.  FB Heather Marie Turner.

ABOUT WEDDINGS - The Ceremony

PART FIVE

Mitch recovered from the shock of learning that Guber (gas golf cart) could not be used to move the disabled. The few who initially had been scheduled for his helping hand stood by waiting to be safely escorted down the grassy aisle to the front seats.  I’m one of this group, who graciously accepted Mitch’s arm to be sure no embarrassing accidents occurred with my entrance.

The Groom’s Mother, Nora, elegant in plum chiffon, escorted by his Father, Terry, smiled with pride as she took her seat near where her son stood.  Other family members were seated as well. Steve Dee, Heather’s Uncle, with his guitar tuned and eager to begin, took his seat near the back and began strumming softly to add the mood and rhythm for the moment.   The Minister, Groom, and Best Man took their positions. As the melody lifted on the wind, the Mother of the Bride stepped into sight, and began her stroll down the aisle. Escorted by Robyn, Tracey took her seat on the front row.

Bridesmaids, Elizabeth Turner, Tasha Cox, and Elizabeth Quick, wearing chiffon knee length dresses in colors of purple, plum, and pink, with silver slippers and carrying bouquets of Calla Lilies, took their places near the archway. Groomsmen, Paul, Ryan, and Gregg in black with blue, plum, and purple ties, a gift of the Groom, moved into their position.  Maid of Honor, Mandy Morice, wearing a chiffon knee length dress in royal blue with silver slippers, carrying a bouquet of Calla Lilies, preceded her sister down the aisle. The proud Father of the Bride, Jim Morice, stepped forward to escort his daughter.  With his heart visibly overflowing with love for his first-born, he smiled and reached his hand in support.

Heather slipped her arm through her Dad’s and stepped out of the shadows of the barn as the Minister asked the guests to rise to greet the Bride. Radiant with joy, she moved slowly down toward her future. A simple ankle-length white satin dress with a full tulle skirt, sweetheart neckline and fitted bodice, a drop waist gem-decorated ribbon, and slippers of silver were chosen by Heather as her bridal attire. A subtle revelation of her unpretentious, elegant style.   Continuing the simple theme, her long hair, swept up in a bun, accented with small gem-studded flowers and capped by the waist-length veil of white tulle, reflected golden threads of light as she moved in the sunlight. Eyes filled with devotion, she turned from her Dad to stand before Nathan and repeat her vows.

As with all things Heather, the vows were atypical, written by her with sweetness and candid truth. Likewise, Heather wrote Nathan’s vows, cute at times, with phrases like “I’ll reach boxes from high shelves for you.”  When asked days earlier why she wrote Nathan’s vows, Heather replied, “I didn’t want to hear ten minutes of short jokes!”

With the brief ceremony over and the tender kiss in the past, the Minister pronounced the couple as one, husband and wife, Mr. and Mrs. Nathan Turner.  As all Weddings end the same, still this one seemed different. The sun dropped behind the barn, and in this vast chapel of outdoor wonder, the moon already high in the sky became brighter as it assumed the major roll of ruling the night. The couple swept up the aisle with the confidence they could meet any challenge together.

As evening shadows surrounded the guests moving toward the reception area, the photographer, Kelly, cousin of the Bride, discovered the photo op before the wedding yielded unacceptable pictures for memories.  Taken with the sun in their faces, the results were flawed with closed and squinting eyes.  Now, in spite of how carefully they planned to avoid delaying the reception, the photo op must be repeated.

I could hear my tummy rumble as the light lunch had been hours ago. Definitely distracted with the aroma of country cooking floating into the reception area, I found a place to relax at a table and joined in conversation with guests.  It could be a long time before the serving began.  People being who they are, waiting for food could be a bad sign with the treated drinks flowing like Niagara Falls.  Robyn came to check on me and delivered lemonade that did calm my hunger and thirst for a few moments.

 I looked around the cabana area at the décor and how appropriate the candles and table arrangements were for the rustic theme of the wedding.  Lights were strung and came on as darkness fell into the shadows.  Bales of hay, cut from the fields, lined the walls of the barn to provide additional seating. Purple, blue, plum, and white décor in the form of flowers, butterflies, candles, created and prepared by Heather, Nathan’s grandmother, and great aunt, provided soft pools of light adding to the festive mood. The pinnacle of a lovely theme, with rhythm flowing through each carefully orchestrated event of the week.

It seemed like hours, but actually was only minutes, when my turn for the photo op surfaced.  To avoid the long walk, they used the reception corridor where the decorated walls made a colorful background for the photos.  Finally, when every possible configuration of family unit had been photographed, the call to be served dinner drifted through the crowd of guests. 

Being very hungry with too many choices is always a dangerous diet don’t.  “Robyn, just bring me a plate with food,” I said, as I maneuvered my walker back to my table.  With friendly folk all around, the evening hummed with stimulating conversation and laughter. A family reunion, not one family, but several with ties to Heather and Nathan.  I met guests from Illinois, Idaho, California, Florida, Arizona, New Mexico, Louisiana, and of course, Oklahoma, all with one common bond, Best Wishes for Nathan and Heather.

With everyone fed and happy, watching the newlyweds enjoy interacting from table to table visiting with their guests instead of the typical “receiving line” and quick exit, exposed a feeling of closeness that may be inherent to rural living. City dwellers lose that innocence of just being yourself. Speaking of being yourself and in a spirit of levity, a battle of tiny marble sized balls began to be thrown back and forth.  The balls were a part of a unique votive candle light arrangement that fascinated all the guests. They soon wearied of the impromptu pleasure after spreading the soft gel balls all around the area.

Later, the traditional list to check off, the first dance, (Nathan says, I don’t dance, and Heather doesn’t want to dance), so on to the next; the cake routine is always cute and messy, but especially original at this wedding.  Four cakes baked and decorated in white with butterflies of her chosen colors, were displayed on plates made from rough-hewn logs. A few inches deep, they were placed at different levels of display, with the smallest at the highest point to display a most exclusive “cake topper” depicting the musical talent of the couple (miniatures of Nathan holding a trombone and Heather holding percussion mallets). They had great fun with posing for photos, and the cake, baked by Nathan’s sister, Elizabeth, was delicious.

The Best Man, Gregg, took charge of the toast that traditionally appeals to the wedding party, and another great photo op.  To finish the list, the throwing of the bouquet (caught by Mandy, Heather’s sister), the pitched garter (caught by Mandy’s boyfriend, Mitch), and then, the obvious, “Okay, when is the next wedding?”

Nathan and Heather planned to leave on Sunday for a hiking trip in Colorado.  So with no moment of departure to break up the reception, the older folks, without exception, began to express exhaustion, “It’s past my bedtime.” Tracey’s parents were leaving for the hotel.  Tasha and I joined them to drive the long thirty-five miles.

As we drove away, I looked back over the scene. No doubt they would work into the morning trying to bring reality back to the farm after this long week of building a magic moment for the newlyweds.  But when the last I is dotted, the last T is crossed, they will lean back, relax, and confirm, “It was all worth it.”

 I looked out over the prairie bordering the roadway into Woodward.  The full moon dominated the night with a silvery bath reflecting beauty where none would be found in the sunlight, and shadows hiding beauty that would rule in the morning light.  Everything is relative.  And I remembered being young, unafraid, invincible…  The wise man said, “To everything there is a season and a time to every purpose under Heaven.” 

“Nathan, Heather, Don’t waste your time or lose your purpose.  Life is short, and youth soon vanishes.”

Finally, ABOUT WEDDINGS, PART SIX -  PHOTO OP