Tag Archives: writing

Five Minute Friday: SHE

On Fridays, a bunch of writers set the clock and write for 5 minutes, no edits, just writing, throwing perfectionism out the window. Completely cray-cray, right? Yes, well, the prompt this week is the word SHE.

Here goes…

SHE.

She was always there for us when we were kids. Always. Waking us up for school. Always making sure we had a hot breakfast. Always there for us after school.

She was there when my dad was away traveling, which was often. She put up with so much crap from us, all three of us. Well, very little crap from my little brother—mostly from my older brother and me. 

Mama and Me in 2012She expects honesty from people, which is no less than she expects from herself. She lives that out in her life.

She prayed without ceasing for us kids as we were growing up and for my Dad and so many others. I remember seeing that little plastic set of praying hands sitting on the window sill over the sink—the ones that held the list of people she prayed for as she slaved away over the dishes.

She trusted me as a kid, as a teenager. I have no idea why, but I felt it from her. I never wanted to let her down, though I know I did, many times.

Though she tends to live her life in a reserved, sit back and take it all in, kind of way, I remember how she would laugh hysterically with me in the aisles of the Hallmark store at those crazy cards that struck us both as so funny. People would stare at us as we laughed till we cried. But we didn’t care.

She takes care of people. Always has. And now she takes care of my two grandmothers who are both in their 90s. Without complaint. And thinks of their needs before her own.

She has spent her life doing that—taking care of others before herself, leaving her very little time for a life of her own. But it’s what she does. She is a godly woman. She’s a wife. She’s a mom. She’s a grandma. She’s a giver. She is filled with integrity. She is an example to me. She is my friend.

She is my Mama. And I love her.

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Want to link up your Five Minutes post? You can. Visit Lisa-Jo Baker’s blog–here.

Five Minute Friday

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Welcome to the South: The Land of White Lies

“Every lie is two lies — the lie we tell others and the lie we tell ourselves to justify it.” ~Robert Brault

If you want to do something to make my mama mad, just go ahead and lie to her. My mama values honesty and integrity. She believes that you should tell the truth and do what you say you are going to do. Nothing wrong with that! She is right.

And that is how I was raised. I think that is why I hate politics so much. But I suppose that is a different post.

The thing about telling lies is, that you think you have covered up the truth. However, by lying, you have not made the truth any less true, a little more obscure, maybe, but still true. The truth is still out there, following you around. And it has a way of eventually finding you. And biting you on the behind.

I was raised in the South. The land of sweet tea and “yes, ma’am” and “no, ma’am.” The land of small towns where everybody knows your business and most girls have two first names like “Mary Beth” or “Anna Grace.” The land where “Hey, y’all!” and  “Aww! Don’t you look pretty today!” (whether true or not) are common greetings.

Sometimes I think the South is the Land of White Lies. The land where telling half truths or slathering the truth in some sort of weird non-compliment is the norm—always stated in a sing-song-y tone of voice and punctuated with a smile, of course.

We are the masters of obscuring the truth. You know, ‘cause we wouldn’t want to hurt anybody’s feelings, now, would we?

Funny Courtesy Hello Ecard: Just have to remember to say 'Bless Her Heart.' All is forgiven then.

(image credit: someecards)

Let me submit these to you:

What she said: Bless her heart. What she meant: Lord have mercy, she is a train wreck!

What she said: Well, now THAT is a hairdo! What she meant: You should get your money back, honey, ‘cause you are lookin’ a sight!

What she said: Well, now, look at YOU! What she meant: Really? You chose to wear your pajama pants out in public?

What she said: What a sweet baby! What she meant: That is the scariest lookin’ child I have ever seen!

What she said: No, honey, that doesn’t make your butt look big—it makes  your waist look really small! What she meant: Wow, your butt is really big. You should burn that outfit NOW.

Truth be told, my mama never took to this practice. She just didn’t have the time for any fake-y behavior or for folks who engaged in such behavior. And I don’t subscribe to it myself, not as a general practice. But I would be lying if I said I never used the “Bless her heart” line.

Don’t get me wrong, I love being a Southern Girl! I appreciate the ability to say difficult things with a smile and as much sweetness as I can muster. Some of us can speak the truth in love without lying or being unkind.

Some Southerners are just plain mean in all their syrup-y so-called sweetness and someone, let’s say a non-Southerner, after being told off by some sweet ole Southern Belle, won’t even know what hit ‘em! They walk away all confused and about ten minutes later it hits them—“Wait a minute! She just said my butt looked big…to my face!” 

All Southerners are not that way, of course. But we are human. And in our humanity, we all lie at times. I am guilty too—even in all my inbred belief in honesty and integrity, I am imperfect.

Yes, I lied to my parents when I was a teenager—many times. (Sorry, Mama!) Yes, I taught my kids to believe in Santa and the Tooth Fairy. Yes, I have told someone they look great when maybe they did not. (Not any of you reading this.)  And yes, those are lies.

As much as I believe in honesty, I also believe in mercy and second chances. I have been forgiven so much…and continue to be forgiven every time I lie or screw up in some other way, as I am often wont to do. And I am sure I will tell someone at some point in the future, “Yes, that IS a great outfit!” Or maybe I just won’t say anything at all. Bless my heart.

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This is my offering for Two Shoes Tuesday. Each week, Josie gives two word prompts to choose from and you must include one or both of them  in an original essay, poem or story. You can use them as a theme or the words themselves. This week’s words were white and lies.

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Five Minute Friday: RED

On Fridays, a group of bloggers set the clock and write for 5 minutes, no edits, just writing, throwing perfectionism out the window. Completely cray-cray, right? Yes, well, the prompt this week is the word RED.

Here goes…

RED.

My daughter has been asking me questions this week about when she was born, her first words, when were her first steps. Who knows what has triggered this “need to know”. It is not near her birthday, which is when these conversations tend to happen. Regardless of why, it is fun to remember those times with her, now that she is 15 and nearing womanhood herself.

I remember the day she was born very clearly. She was 8 days overdue. Contractions came on very strongly during the night as I slept. I woke to intense labor and a baby who was finally ready to make her entrance. Finally. It was a Wednesday, May 6th and there were tornado warnings that day.

We drove to the hospital my husband and I, while my mom stayed at our house with our son who was 3 at the time. A short 2 1/2 hours later, she entered this world. Face glowing red, as blood rushed to her angry face. Boy was she mad! She had meconium in the amniotic fluid and so the nursing staff was rushing around jamming suction tubes down her nose and into her throat—over and over. Her little pink lips contorted as she cried. Oh, it was pitiful. The faces she made—I will never forget. I was just so glad she was here and she was okay. All 10 pounds of her.

She was the talk of the nursery that night. My sweet red-faced 10 pounder. My baby girl. My Emma.

 

Want to link up your Five Minutes post? You can. Visit Lisa-Jo Baker’s blog–here.

Five Minute Friday

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