Election Day Musings. Day 6

I had a hot date with my hubby this morning.

At the polls.

Yeah, it was pretty awesome!

I love election day!

For a lot of reasons.

It means that all those awful political commercials will be OVER!

<Can I get a collective WOOT WOOT??!>

Those are just the worst. All the ick and the mudslinging and the arguing. It is ridiculous. Debates are over. Angry partisan posts from either side of the aisle on Facebook should die down over the next few days, although there are the crazies who post that kind of stuff all the time. You know who you are! Yeah, yeah, free speech. Okay.

Thankfully, we got rid of the landline in our house a couple of years ago, so I haven’t been getting any of those “helpful” political phone calls many of you may have been getting.

Personally, I don’t need any people out there trying to help me make my decision about the candidates. I am perfectly capable of doing my homework, examining my personal convictions, and coming to an educated decision all by myself! Thank you very much! For that matter, you are capable of the same thing and I do not see why beating you over the head with my choice of candidate is going to benefit anyone. It just causes angsty-ness and nobody likes angsty-ness.

I also love election day because I get to go to my polling place and stand in line. Yes, you read that correctly: I don’t mind standing in line. What kind of crazy talk is that, you ask?

Well, today, it afforded me an entire hour and a half with my man. So that is a big SCORE!

It also gives me the opportunity to make a new friend.

I am the person who talks to strangers in the post office line. In the grocery store line. In the voting line. Wherever. Yes, I am that person. I’m weird like that…just ask my kids.

But think about it. You never know what those other people are going through. Your smile and friendly words might be just what they need! I mean, who doesn’t like it when someone smiles at them and says hello?? I don’t know, maybe it’s just the Southerner in me. Or maybe I got an extra helping of my daddy’s DNA. Whichever. It is how I roll.

I am thankful to be able to go spend time with my sweetie and make a new friend. But maybe even more than that, I am thankful to be an American.

I am thankful to be an American with the right to vote. I am thankful for freedom.

I am forever grateful to the men and women who have fought and who continue to fight for that right and for all the freedoms we all have as Americans.

NOT going to vote today would be like spitting in their faces and saying “Your sacrifices don’t matter.” At least, that is how I see it.

And I’m not about to do that.

What I am about to do is enjoy the rest of the day and then sit back this evening with my family and watch the results roll in. And then watch all those news people analyze it all to death.

Regardless of the outcome, I know that God is still God and He is in control! And I know that I will continue to pray for this country and for our President, whoever he may be come tomorrow.

So y’all get out there and vote.

And make a new friend while you wait.

But perhaps don’t take with you a very large travel mug of Vanilla Almond hot tea and drink the whole thing, because you might find yourself in a pickle. Just a suggestion. Not that I would  have any personal experience with that or anything.

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The Comeback. Day 4

Emma has a softball game today.

For most families who have daughters who play softball, this is a “by the way” kind of statement. For me, these are not simply words in passing; they are words swimming in thankfulness.

May 5, 2011 is a day no one in my home will ever forget. If you’ve been around the blog for a while, you know what that date means.

If not, then, it is the day that I have often referred to as “The Snap Heard Round the World”. It is the day that Emma, while sliding into home plate during a softball game, broke both her tibia and fibula (the two bones in her lower left leg). It was also the day before her 13th birthday.

It was the day that started us all on a long and lesson-filled 8 month journey.

There were some incredibly difficult moments—moments that broke this mama’s heart into a million pieces. And I’m not going to lie, it was hard not to let those tears spill over, especially given the fact that I cry over Hallmark commercials. Oh, and those Folgers commercials where the kid comes home from the service for Christmas and surprises his family. Yeah, pretty pathetic, I know. Through it all, though, as we mama’s try to do, I worked very hard to stay focused on the blessings, because I had to, for Emma. We prayed, we worked hard to stay positive, to pay attention to all the lessons, and to find the humor in our situation. To thank God.

She endured casting, surgery (2 plates and 17 screws), lots of pain, long bed-ridden days of Criminal Minds marathons, frustration, incisions that would not heal, countless doctor’s visits and months of physical therapy.

All the while, Emma kept saying she wanted to play softball again.

I was leery. I mean, did I really want my baby girl out there again? After all she had endured? But to Emma, I said, Absolutely! You will play again! All the while, trying to suppress that mama’s instinct to protect my baby.

After she was released from her orthopedist and her physical therapist in January of 2012, just on the cusp of spring softball registration, I asked her if she wanted to register. She said she did, but I could sense the hesitation. Would Coach Ricky be coaching her? She asked. Because she only wanted to play for him, someone who would understand her need to ease back into the game. No, Coach Ricky was not going to be coaching, or so we thought. After the registration deadline passed, we learned that Coach Ricky was, in fact, going to coach (long story). But that shipped had sailed. (Now, I see that as divine intervention, because she truly needed more time to be physically ready to play.)

We did go see a couple of games once the spring season started and she did not seem too sad about not playing. Her teammates were glad to see her, as were her coaches. And we spent her “Leg-iversary” (otherwise known as the anniversary of the broken leg) watching a softball game played by her former teammates on the very field on which her accident happened. That’s right, we thumb our noses at you, broken leg! Difficult, but cathartic!

This fall came around and she was ready. Really ready, and off she went.

So today, when I go see my amazing daughter play first base and watch her run the bases, I know what it has taken for her to get to this place. What she has had to overcome. Going back to play this fall took a lot of courage. She has conquered the fears she had about playing again. She worked hard to get back the flexibility and range of motion in her ankle and leg to be able to run again. She is not ready to slide yet—and may never be, but I get that. When I see her play now, I see a more confident ball player. I see a leader. I see a young woman emerging. It is awesome to watch.

When I am watching her play, my heart is so full. I whisper prayers of thanks to God for bringing her (and all of us) through such a difficult time and bringing her to the point where she is today. For the lessons she has learned at such a young age. For her bravery. For her ability to walk today without a limp and to run. For the healing that has taken place not only in her bones, but also in her heart and mind from that traumatic experience. Unless you see her scars, you would never know what happened to her.

Can you be more than thankful about something? If so, that would be me. Thankful for healing and perseverance and facing fears and courage and lessons learned and grace for each day. For getting to the other side.

For Emma. For softball. For today.

 

“Some people are always grumbling because roses have thorns; I am thankful that thorns have roses.” ~Alphonse Karr

What we take for granted. Day 2

Like the rest of the country, I have been following the news coverage of the devastation left by super storm Sandy up and down the east coast. Having grown up in the land of hurricanes here in the South, these images are not unfamiliar. They are not unfamiliar, but they are always a shock. Mangled homes, beachfronts and roads. Broken hearted people. Cries of “we’ve lost everything.” All are hard to see and hear.

It is so conflicting to sit and watch the news and say, “oh, I am so thankful that we were spared this time.” It did not hit us, but so many were hit. So, to be grateful that we were spared almost feels like I am not honoring the ones who were. My heart hurts for them: the ones who have suffered so much loss in this storm. My prayers go up for them.

In light of those images and real life suffering of those affected by the hurricane, I find myself feeling thankful for the every day things that we take for granted—that is, until we don’t have them so readily.

Clean water. A roof over my head. Electricity. Food. Available gas to put in my car. Heat in my home. A telephone to call my loved ones and see if they are okay. The knowledge that my family is safe. A simple hot cup of tea.

I want to live a life of gratitude, in the good times and the not so good times—and not only during the month of November. I don’t want to be unaffected by suffering of others. Lord, help me not to take things—any things—for granted.

I am thankful for a God who brings comfort and restoration. I am thankful for hope. I am thankful that He is not only in the midst of the storms we encounter in life—both literal and figurative, but also in the aftermath.

 

“Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort,  who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God.”  2 Corinthians 1:3-4 NIV