We Were Better Off When We Were Little Children

All my hopes and dreams scatter like ashes...
Up in flames, a quiet disaster...
One day something went wrong, everything changed,
Now we're patching these holes in our souls 
where a ball and chain...

We were better off when we were little children,
When our faith came as easy as freedom,
When we dreamed we could fly,
Hope was shining in our eyes,
We were better off when we were children.
~Elenowen, 2012 (click to listen)

These are the words to a song I heard today for the first time. 
Today is the day after I heard of the death of Drew MacLean, one of Buddy's closest friends at UF. 
Today is the day after the day that marks the end of life on earth for a young husband, father-to-be, brother, son, friend to all who knew him. 

This is not an obituary for the dead but simply written to formulate grief and sadness. I am sad for this family who was as close to each other as we are. I am sad for Marc, the brother who shared every friend with Drew, shared the same degree, a home, moments meant only for best friends. I am sad for my son, Buddy who has never grieved like this before. I am sad for my son, Jake, who has compared this event to what it must be like to lose his own brother. I am sad for Mr. and Mrs. MacLean and for Drew's young wife, Allison. I am sad for their unborn daughter who will never be held by this bear of a man who never had an enemy.

 
When we were children, most of us had bad dreams, bad thoughts, moments of fear and sadness...but they were only moments. We bounced back with zeal and a mere memory of loss or trouble. God made children with an amazing talent for pushing forward and tendency toward resilience. Children are optimistic. They dream of flying kites and being superheroes. Adults lose their dreams. They learn the truth about superheroes. Yes, we were better off when we were children.

But we can't stay children. We would never learn enough, or love enough. 

^"When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child; but when I became a man, I put away childish things. For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part, but then I shall know just as I also am known. ~ I Corinthians 13:11-12

I am so looking forward to seeing you face to face, Lord. Until then, please continue to help us learn and love...and continue to be God.

Serious golfers

Drew, celebrating the best day of Bud's life with us.

Pregnant and Pissed

Finding myself pregnant for the fourth time was a traumatic disaster. How did this happen? (Thanks for not commenting, peanut gallery.) Just keep in mind that I was 30 years old...long past child bearing years...and all three of my earlier children were potty trained, Little Bud was going to be in kindergarten - giving me a morning all to myself, my father had had a serious stroke and was having to relearn how to walk and complete simple tasks, my best friend moved to another state (best friends don't grow on trees, y'all!), no maternity insurance, no one wants to have a family of 6 over for dinner, no one wants to babysit for four kids, we couldn't afford to pay a babysitter for four kids, I was already limited to a $75 per week food and gas budget, and I was spoiled rotten with the three kids I already had. What are the chances that a fourth one will be pleasant? Not good.

You know what else wasn't good? My attitude. Shame on me. Women all over the world trying to get pregnant and not able. Here I am, a veritable baby machine, crying real tears over nature's blessings. Ugh. Chalk up another item on the list of Behaviors I'm Not Proud Of.

Twenty-two years of Jake. I have often considered myself the luckiest woman in the history of the world and he is part of the reason why. Since I'm not a good enough writer to weave his blessed life into a story, I'll list the reasons I love him so much.

• He loves me. Oh, how he loves me. Come to think of it...he loves everyone.
• His smile. His eyes have always crinkled up into little slits whenever he smiles for real.
• Every day is an extreme for Jake. "This is the best day of my life" or "This is the worst day of my life". There is always light at the end of the tunnel for this guy. Unless the Miami Heat loses to the Celtics.
• His hugs. We could package them and make million$
• He still occasionally gets in bed with us. (This will not be good news for some of you.)
• He is easy to please...just give him beef. And soooo fun to feed.
• He gave new meaning to the word Joy. No, I did not want to have another baby. But once again, God knew that this baby would bring Joy to my life when I needed it most. 
• He made me talk to God on a regular basis. When I began to get lazy about regular conversations with my Saviour, Jake would get a concussion. Sometimes two. When I finally became comfortable with my meager prayer life, Jake would call with a broken heart, or his grades hanging by a thread (he had to maintain a 3.0 to keep his scholarship at UWA...not easy for a mediochre student in addition to playing football,  missing Calculus III every other week because of away games, etc.) And Jake would play football and play it with a vengeance. You football moms understand the need to talk to God regularly within this concept. Having a college football player causes many of us to try and make deals with God. However useless that is, it sent me to the Bible for words of comfort and wisdom. 

¹ The Lord is my light and my salvation —
    whom shall I fear?
The Lord is the stronghold of my life—
    of whom shall I be afraid?

² When the wicked advance against me
    to devour^[a] me,
it is my enemies and my foes
    who will stumble and fall. 
³ Though an army besiege me,
    my heart will not fear; 
though war break out against me,
    even then I will be confident.

⁴ One thing I ask from the Lord,
    this only do I seek:
that I may dwell in the house of the Lord
    all the days of my life, 
to gaze on the beauty of the Lord
    and to seek him in his temple.

⁵ 
For in the day of trouble 
    he will keep me safe in his dwelling;
he will hide me in the shelter of his sacred tent
    and set me high upon a rock.

We, in the Burks family, are not ashamed to be caught praying for our children - no matter the issue. When your baby is threatened by some force other than yourself...whether it's a germ, physical need, behavior that is the opposite of what you've taught, (but similar to the way you are), addiction, accident, or the dreaded broken heart, mothers become someone they don't even know. It's like, "Who is living in my meek, compliant, polite, and reasonable body?" Because this person has none of those traits AT ALL.

Jake is a product of Barbara, Buddy, his siblings, and a lot of prayer. God has a plan for this boy.

To those of you who know him...you know exactly what I'm talking about. To have a son that other people want as their own is a phenomenon. To have a son that loves like Jesus loved, that is a miracle. Yes, he's flawed. No, I'm not immune to those flaws. Yes, I've actually told him "no" and punished him. No, I don't want him to live with me the rest of his life. Lucky for us he wants to spend the rest of his life with a beautiful young woman named Allison. Allison is as crazy as Jake...only prettier. This should be an interesting combination.

Jake's last football game for UWA

I want to sincerely thank those who have poured into his life with us: Jourdan, Bud IV, and Andrea (his sister who raised him), and dozens of our friends who love him almost as much as we do. I am grateful for his choice in brides, as well. Allison, you are perfect for Jake. You are every bit the juvenile pal he loves having around and also the woman who has pledged to love him forever. You're breathtakingly beautiful and amazingly humble. I am so excited that you will be my daughter!

bow lesson.

baby lesson.

A day Jake's arms never unclenched.

      

With Diana...preparing to go off to college.

We love to pose.

Jake, your birthday was last week and I hate to think of you leaving us for more of life, but thats exactly what you need to do. There's so much more of life for you to touch. for you to breathe in. For you to influence with your clenched fists and flexed biceps, and squinty smile. We are not worried about you. You will be better. Better than all of us. Better because of all of us. Better because He who is in you is He who overcomes the world.

Brothers. Stirring up trouble and stuff.

Happy birthday month, Jbird. 
I love you.



"For the Lord has chosen Jacob to be his own, Israel to be his treasured possession."
“Your name will no longer be Jacob, but Israel(Bud's nickname for his brother) because you have struggled with God and with humans and have overcome.”

Bewildered

Not much inspires me or bewilders me anymore.
I guess I'm turning into one of those crotchety old women who feels like they've done it all. Which is quite comical in that I have hardly done anything.

Newborn Bobby grasping Mommy's hand

Then a year ago this week, our first grandson was born. He was about a month premature and caused quite a ruckus. His mother was hospitalized a few weeks prior to his birth for pre-eclampsia which I thought was no big deal until her high risk obstetrician answered my question of "what's the worst thing that can happen with this condition?" with the reply, "she could die." OK then.

She persevered. He was born. He was put in neonatal jail for two weeks. He then came home to our house.

Did you read that? Home to OUR HOUSE. I'll come back to that in a minute.

FACTS:

• My daughter, Andrea, did not plan to become a mother yet. 
• She had just begun an intense internship for her Master's program in Mental Health Counseling. 
• Our relationship had been a bit strained the previous year. 
• She was living in our house with us to save money during her internship. 
• And her sister was getting married in 2 months.

No, this pregnancy was not planned but it proceeded as pregnancies do and we were all sucked into the process. Thanks to babycenter.com or some such graphically informative website, Andrea kept us all up-to-date on baby's progress. The baby is the size of a lima bean. It's the size of a lemon. It's the size of a peach. Funny how fetuses are described according to food. No one ever says, "It's the size of a prairie dog" or "He's almost the size of a Swingline stapler!". Even the food used to explain fetal sizes is bland. Why not, "He's as long as a California roll." or "Yep, I see her...she's now the size of a jalapeno"? So we got our weekly report and Andrea had her weekly meltdown. Do you know why a pregnant woman is overly emotional? It's because of all of the estrogen and progesterone produced in addition to anxiety she feels about becoming a mother. Andrea was a hormone factory and we all suffered for it. My husband will tell you I was the same way when pregnant with Jake, our fourth and sweetest child...so luckily all of those ferocious feelings do not rub off on the baby.

I was invited into the delivery room along with Jourdan, Andrea's sister. We camped out for 30 hours of intense labor. Medically speaking, the labor itself was not always intense...but Andrea was. She was miserable. She hates needles and she hates being "inspected". It was all very painful and agonizing for her. Especially the anxiety over Bobby's health. I felt so sorry for her. But I would not trade a second of my life for that experience. You can well imagine the joy that accompanies the birth of your first grandchild and getting to cut the cord...but also witnessing a bonding between sisters, sharing a joke during actual childbirth that caused us to laugh until we cried, listening to the crazy delivery nurse sing in her opera voice...that baby was laughed into life. What a day. A long, long, day.

             

Now, a year later, the results are so inexpressible I am surprised I'm even trying to write about it.

Bewilderment #1:

God. Showed. Up.

I can tell you that there is no love like that of a grandparent for a grandchild, but you've heard that a thousand times by now. I can tell you that there's no love like that of a mother for her child...but that, too, is old news. What I can't tell you is how this happened. I went from total apprehension, worry, anxiety for Andrea, Bobby, their future and the future in our household, to a form of ridiculous obsession I like to call "momnoxiousness". 

He taught us a Holy grace, forgiveness, repaired relationships, and showed us Himself repeatedly through different events and through our amazing circle of friends (which makes me cry to recall...my face is unattractively contorting at this very moment). He held Bobby and Ange in his big strong hand and continues to do so this very day. 

Bewilderment #2:
I see the Lord in my daughter, as a mother and as a woman. It's amazes Andrea every day the depth of love she feels for this baby. Sometimes I would worry that he was replacing her Saviour as the Lord of her life. Then, slowly it dawned on me that Bobby reminded her of her need for Jesus and that she has totally re prioritized her goals. She is the best mother I have ever seen, including myself and I think I'm a pretty good mother. She lived at the hospital while he was in The Unit. She tirelessly trudged up to the nursery to feed and hold and stroke him because he wasn't allowed outside of his little cell. She has never, ever regretted her pregnancy or even spoken in a negative way regarding it and she had a difficult one. (she DID complain regularly about her "cankles" though.) 

I recently read a passage in Bob Goff's new book, Love Does where Donald Miller is describing Goff:

"(Bob Goff) loves people with a force that is natural, and by natural I mean like nature, like a waterfall or wind or waves on the ocean. He loves effortlessly, as though love packs annually in snow on a mountain, melting and rushing through him in an infinite loop. There's no explanation for a man who can love this well save God."

When I read this passage, I immediately thought of Andrea and the love she has for her son. The son that changed our family. Who brought absolute joy into our home. Who healed us with his mere existence. Who soothes me with his chubby hands on my face. Who stops whatever he's doing when I sing to him. Who grinds his new little teeth on anything and everything. Who "reads" by opening and shutting a book over and over again, Who lays his soft, fuzzy head on my shoulder for a second to let me know that at the moment, I'm his favorite. Who is loved beyond measure by his parents and all of the Burks and Pace clans. Who's gut laugh is gold and who's smile is priceless.

 

The only reason it will take a village to raise this child is
because everyone wants to be a part of his life.

Bobby and his silly personality...where did that come from?

Bewilderment #3: Yes, I'm bewildered that hosting an infant for six months was not hectic or in the least bit annoying. The day I walked upstairs and saw his crib taken apart before they moved into their own home, my heart lurched. It literally did a flip and landed in a sorry mess at the pit of my stomach. I like to imagine that the Gastrointestinal Crime Scene showed up and said, "Call Horatio, we'll need help with this one." He's my buddy of buddys. I don't know how long that will last because, at some point, I will not be nearly as cool as Granddaddy who has lots of fun things to do in his shop and can drive a boat and shoot a pistol, or lift a tank and throw a football like Uncle Jake, or sing thousands to their feet like Uncle Jeff and Aunt Jourge, or throw him to the moon (and catch him) like Uncle Buddy, or teach him to do flips like Aunt Bree, and he will soon tire of me trying to teach him to love literature...but until that happens, I will continue to read him important things by Dr. Suess , help him find Waldo, make him whatever he wants to eat, and squeeze his plump thighs and kiss him till he yells for mercy.

Happy birthday Baby Bobby and thanks for teaching all of us that God shows up as beans, lemons, and jalapenos.

Love, BB

"Oh a cowboy needs a horse, needs a horse, needs a horse.

And he's gotta have a rope, have a rope, have a rope.

And he oughta have a song, have a song, have a song...

If he wants to keep ridin'....

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d3_3Ri3QaiU

(our song)

Push-Button Hope is just not happening here. Not Today.

My hope is built on nothing less than Jesus' blood and righteousness....and Christian radio.
Nope. That last part is not true.
To be honest, I am not a hater of Christian music/radio but it sometimes makes me gag.


Let's do a few pros and cons on it right here, right now:
Pros for Christian radio - 
• positive, encouraging music
• something the kids can listen to and you don't have to worry about them repeating any unsavory lines from the songs they hear in front of grandma.
• some of the music is actually based on scripture.
• there are countless testimonials of how someone was at the end of their rope then tuned in to Christian radio and the song playing literally saved their life.


Cons for Christian radio - 
• DJ's
• Pledge drives
• The same 5 bands on repeat
• DJ's


There! I've said it! In other words, most Christian radio stations drive me bonkers. And yet, I still tune in. Why do I do that? What is it about my personality that continues to feast on a steady diet of cheese in my ears day in and day out? And by cheese, I am talking about the schmaltzy, fix everything with a 25 word devotional, fake-laugh-sounding deejay.


What I really want from a Christian 
radio station:
• Hire DJs who actually laugh from their gut...not to mention have a good sense of humor. The ten commandments do not include, Thou Shalt Not Be Witty. Or Thou Shalt Not Speak In Any Tone Other Than High Church.
• Real music. Not pop music that is recorded under a Christian label.
• Independent artists.
• Music recorded after 1999.



I know I must sound like an atheist to some of you at this point. I actually love Steven Curtis Chapman and respect Casting Crowns. I recently saw Chris Tomlin in concert and was wholly impressed. But where are artists like Gungor, Jillian Edwards, All Sons and Daughters, Sandra McCracken, Sara Groves, to name a few? Is it all about the money and the label? I do realize that many many many people want to hear Third Day (whom I also love), Barlow Girls, Point of Grace, Michael W. Smith, and any of the Winans. I also understand that any song performed by a group with the word "Hillsong" in it is gold. They are the "cool kids" in Christian radio circles.


I'm a promoter of the kid who sits on the back row. Who talks in church. Who doesn't always wear the trendiest outfit or the latest style. Who loves to laugh more than anything and incorporates their humor into everything they do. Who almost didn't try because fear of failure paralyzed them. That was me. So naturally I am drawn to that kid...that group...that artist. I would love to see Christian radio promote that kid too. Not because they already have a Dove nomination. But just because they are freaking GOOD. INSPIRED. HAVE A WORD I need to hear...not a tired chorus that just rhymes or contains the verse-of-the-month. (Jeremiah 29:11 anyone?)


Radio is a powerful medium. I appreciate its history, its effects, its purpose. But not everyone who needs spirit-filled music is comfortable listening to 2 people from the John Tesh School of Diction and Timbre (JTSDT) quote fragments of scripture out of context and acting like they have never had diahrrea or a crusty cold sore in their life. (I'm also picturing a toupe' and/or a perm.) I see that as a theme in our churches as well. C'mon people! Show your fever blisters. Don't be ashamed...everybody gets them.

Available April 24th on iTunes

Currently 6 people follow this blog. I am expecting to lose a third of my following after this post. But before you leave, please look at this brand new album coming out Tuesday, April 24th. Have you ever seen anything more lovely? I expect the songs from it will be even more spectacular. Am I bragging? You'd better believe it. THIS is what deserves to be all over the airwaves. And not because of my relationship to the artist. (well...not JUST because of that) but because I know where her heart has been and what has inspired her to write the songs on this album. Check it out. It's 100% lactose free.

And Lord, haste the day when my faith shall be sight

The clouds be rolled back as a scroll;

The trump shall resound, and the Lord shall descend,

Even so, it is well with my soul.

Now THAT'S hope!  Horatio Spafford, I would definitely push the button to hear more of you.

Keeping the Fun in Dysfunction

Everyone has a dysfunctional family. Everyone.
How you deal with it determines whether your dysfunction turns into fun or funk.
Don't think you're gonna get the bottom line lesson on happy families in this blog post, but I will share a tip that has worked for us to keep us from living in a funk because of our dysfunctions.

Marry well.

"Well" in this case does not mean marry into money or marry someone who is climbing the ladder of social acceptance. What it means is to marry someone who says, "WELL...we will just have work this out together" or "WELL...it's just not that bad" or "WELL...I am going to crawl down into the pit with you and help you out."

That's what Buddy and I have learned to do. It's taken approximately 33 years but I think we are finally getting the hang of it. As I look back, i see evidence there were certain clues this was happening. Such as the time when he was faced with the decision of closing down his business in Fort Walton, leasing his store in Niceville, and moving his business into our back yard shop. And further back when we were wondering if staying married might be harder than staying together. And most recently, when my husband has crawled into the pit of aging parent problems with me and kept my head and heart afloat.



I'm a crier. Not in the town crier sense. But in the ugly-contorted faced-red-nosed kind of crier. I shed tears occasionally. This most recent chapter in my life has caused a few riverlets of salty fluid to run down my cheeks as I think of the kindness, support, prayer, strength, and love my husband has shown me. I have felt overwhelmed, frustrated, and exhausted, but never alone. That's how I know I will make it through.

I knew I married well when I put laughter and sadness on a balancing scale and saw that thru every single rough patch in my life, there was laughter infused into it.

I knew I married well when all 4 of my children were born and they were beautiful...all favoring their father.

I knew I married well when after 33 years of marriage, we go on a vacation and still have fun when it's just the two of us.

I knew I married well when more than anything I want to go through the living room into the kitchen and fix myself some hot coffee first thing in the morning, but can't because my husband is on his knees praying for our family in the living room, blocking my path.


We married very young. (VERY young) I don't condone 20 year old children getting married. I don't condone children getting married at all. The evidence is my oldest married at 29 and my next oldest, at 29 is still unmarried and I was/am more than fine with that. (Little Bud bucked the system at 24.) I can only say that because we serve a merciful God and Buddy and I are both stubborn that it is working.

And working well.

 

 Happy Anniversary to my Fun Husband.
 I love you.

From Ridiculous to Extraordinary in One Tall Moment.

I knew that I would be protected forever because of the day I sprained my ankle after jumping off the bow of a boat.

I see some explanation is necessary.

I'm very vague on dates, unlike my older southern friend from Fried Chicken, Alabama - "Yes, that was Septembuh of nannyfo-uh..."(September, '94) so I'll guess this took place about 5-6 years ago. We were with family and friends out on our boat off the coast of Pensacola Beach in a rather choppy sea on a dolphin watch or fishing or something. Well...I get very seasick in a choppy, wavy gulf so Buddy offered to get as close to the beach as possible and drop some of us off at Fort Pickens. The waves were bringing the boat in closer than was safe so Buddy hollered, "Y'all need to get off now before we get beached!" I, being a cross between the Proverbs 31 and Ephesians 5 wife, immediately jumped off the bow of the boat into what I thought was 18" of water. It turned out to be closer to 6" of water. Owee.

My oldest son, Buddy IV, was with us that day. Upon seeing my obvious and extreme pain, he plowed into the water as the boat was rapidly receding from the shoreline and swam to my side. The look of concern on his face touched me forever. He didn't know whether to blame his dad for yelling at us to jump, or to blame the boat for it's sub-par design that could allow it to be grounded in 6" of water, or to blame God for making waves in the Gulf that day.  He proceeded to show me compassion and aid that I didn't think was possible from a 21 year old boy.

That's not a very dramatic story, but it is typical of the character of my son. (Both of my sons, actually.)

Barney B Burks, IV, aka Baby Buddy, aka Little Bud, aka Bud was our Bouncing Bundle of Blessedness. Being pregnant with him was akin to hiking uphill with a 60 pound backpack strapped to your belly. He was about 20" long and weighed 10 pounds 10 ounces at birth. I called him the Cube. Not really. But I have used that expression when describing him as a baby. 

Oh. My. Gosh. The cutest baby ever. Dimples as deep as moon craters, wide open grins all day long, curly blond locks, and poop constantly running out of his diaper. Baby Buddy grew in knowledge and in stature. Mostly in stature. He graduated from high school at 6'3" and then grew 2 more inches after that. The freshman fifteen, for him, meant inches. It's nice to be tall, but the best thing about Buddy is not A single thing, it's three:

•  His ridiculous personality. Unlike the rest of us, Buddy     won't repeat something funny if he thinks he wasn't heard. But you don't have to worry because something new and funny will be coming shortly.

• His humility. This boy was good at every sport he tried. And believe me, he tried many. He's even good at Scrabble, which boggles the mind if you've grown up with him and listened to his vocabulary. But we had to pry out of him any of his accomplishments. (also unlike most of us) He never, ever brags on himself. Thank goodness for Bree, his amazing wife, my third daughter. Bree used to have to make him call me to tell me little things like winning a game BECAUSE OF BUD'S GRAND SLAM!!! One day I got an email from Bud and all that was enclosed was a link to another website. It was merely the University of Florida Intramural website stating the winner (Bud) of the best baseball hitter on campus...The Home Run Derby! University of Florida, home to 45,000 students. Sheesh.

• His character. Of course you think your children are special. Each one of them has a gift. Everyone knows that. However, this young man has continued to blow our minds with his wisdom, capacity for love, and loyalty. He is child-like and a cut-up  90% of the time. As a matter of fact, if you didn't know him but happened to come upon Bud playing around with his family or friends, it would quite surprise you (because of his shenanigans) to learn that he has a masters degree in structural engineering. He does not quite fit the mold of the average engineering student, believe me! But he never ceases to amaze us with his ability to comfort, his desire to be Christ-like, to show compassion, and to bring a peaceful solution to any problem. His depth and insight are straight from Paul's prayer in Philippians 1:9-10: 

"And this is my prayer: that your love may abound more and more in knowledge and depth of insight, ¹⁰ so that you may be able to discern what is best and may be pure and blameless for the day of Christ..."

One of the most beautiful things about my life is to see the love my children have for one another. ♥ I've never seen anything like it. When they are all together, the mood is usually set by Bud. He is a stabilizing factor in their lives...especially Jake's. Bud chose Jake to be his best man in his wedding. It was the best day of Jake's life. You see, Bud has been almost like a second father to his little brother. Not that Jake needed one because he has a wonderful dad. (and he certainly did NOT need any more mothers.) But Bud took it upon himself to be whatever Jake needed and he took his role seriously. When he turned 21, he chose not to drink because he did not want Jake to ever see him with alcohol and be tempted to do the same. He was on the sidelines of Jake's football games just like one of those dads that remembers every single play his son performs. It was torture for him to have to miss Jake's college games so he would try to listen online or at least watch the play by play stats on the UWA website. (torture, indeed). It's a beautiful sight to behold whenever they are reunited. 

Today (Feb. 1) is Bud's 27th birthday. To say we celebrate this day is an understatement. Buddy, you are both insane and an inspiration. Preposterous and a paragon. Here's to you, Buddy IV. Thank you for protecting our family and pouring your joy into our lives.

"word from your mutha."

Command Z

I was a 49 year old woman with an active family that included 4 biological adult children, a husband, a job working with students 12-18, a home to take care of, and the sole caretaker of unhealthy aging parents (reserving this topic for a future post). After much drilling and consideration and a new iMac computer, I decided with the help of my family to go back to school to pursue a degree in graphic design. Let me add here that I wasn't even really sure what a degree in graphic design was, but I just wanted to learn how to do art on the computer. So after making the decision Dec. 25, 2008, I signed up for my first class on Jan.4, 2009 and started 3 days later.

My first impression upon walking into class: Oh.My.Gosh.What.The.&#$@.Am.I.Doing? That was actually my second and third and twelfth impression as well. The class was Computer Graphics I. It is a beginner class in this program. To clarify "beginner", it really meant that you should already have a working knowledge of all the Adobe Design programs like Photoshop, Illustrator, and InDesign, as well as know your way around a Mac, which I'd owned for 2 short weeks. I felt stupid, stupid, stupid. And to top it off, my instructor was apparently the most brilliant, important, educated, philosophical, expert in his field....the elite fraternity of Junior College Visual Arts Instructors. (I did not assign him those attributes, he himself implied all of them). I learned in the first few weeks, that my best friend on that PJC computer was the COMMAND Z shortcut. For those of you who don't know what that does, it is the PC equivalent to CTRL-ALT-DELETE...to go back a step, to erase what you just did. Man, oh man! Those awkward little squiggles just disappear on the spot!

I have a new community of friends now. I am probably the only one without a tattoo and have the fewest piercings...but they are artists, therefore a very colorful group. My youngest daughter, Andrea, tells me incessantly how glad she is that I have a more worldly view and diverse friendships And she is right! I consider my life richer for expanding my circle to more than just "church" friends, or middle-age grandparents. (But if you really know me, you understand that my circle of friends will NEVER consist of only people my age.)

I'm over halfway through the program now, working 34 hours a week, going to school 12, planning which 2 nights of 7 that I'll actually cook, washing many loads of laundry on Saturdays, folding laundry on Sundays, declining social opportunities because I have projects to complete, scurrying around trying to discover scholarship opportunities for old women going back to school, calling the emergency room to see if either one of my parents has checked in, and still using COMMAND Z in class. But I have learned that you can't use CMD Z in life. No matter how much you've grown up, how many times you've rededicated your life at camp, how many old sweatshirts you've donated to Goodwill, how many tears you've shed, that you just can't undo what you have done...to others, to yourself.

But...

Thank God we don't have to worry about that. Jesus Paid It All so that we could have our canvas white as snow. I'm trying to use the consequences of my mistakes to paint a new picture on it. I know we've all been to the place where we couldn't stop uttering, "If only I hadn't done that". We've torn up hearts, relationships,  reputations, etc. and we have to live with the consequences. What you do with those consequences is what determines the whole, completed picture of your life.

Some changes since I started school: I'm 3 years older, we added a daughter in 2009 and a son in 2010 (thanks to Buddy and Jourdan), Andrea brought new life to our first grandchild in May 2011 (Baby Bobby), my boss quit, my aging parents are unhealthier than ever, and I have a fish named Nick. Did I mention I'm 3 years older?


Things that haven't changed: I am still married to a wonderful man, I still get more pleasure out of my family than I deserve, I still can't find matches to socks, I still plan trips I'll never take, I still don't exercise regularly, and I still love teenagers. (not ALL teenagers so don't start making plans to ship me yours). I am still using the CMD Z option like crazy and I am still making mistakes in life I wish I could erase. However, I hope to put those paints to proper use. And if I happen to get a tattoo, I'll post it proudly.

And here is what it will look like:

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