My Southern Upbringing Put to the Test

Today, I’m thankful for my southern upbringing. My momma taught me to be gracious, as gracious as possible under different situations, and today that lesson was put to the test.


Today, I wore a dress to work. I had to actually get dress and drive into work. So I say, “I dressed like a girl today.” I don’t often wear dresses to work. One time I wore a dress above the knee to work, and I still hear about it from the guys from time-to-time. “Hey, do you still have that little, blue dress?” Seriously, like they've never seen a set of legs before. So, today I had on a dress that I bought for $10 on sale at J.C. Penney's. It’s hot pink with white flowers. It’s a summer dress, and yes, I had on a pearl necklace and bracelet carrying a my daughter’s straw hand bag she got from Gynelle. I went old school. It was hot, and I didn’t want anything touching me. After ordering our food, I made my way to a table and sat down, and Deanna joined me. I don’t get to eat out often any more since I work from home, and I live in the boon docks, so going out to eat with a girlfriend is a real treat. I miss my girlfriends. We had no sooner sat down and started visiting when a male waiter came up and began talking to me.

I noticed you when you came in today, he said. I figured he was going to say, You reminded me of someone OR I thought you were someone else, but it went somewhere else altogether different. I just wanted to tell you how beautiful you look. Right about now, I kind of scan around to see if any LSP or SPD officers I know are there and are pulling one on me. I’m an old-fashion kind of guy, and I appreciate it when ladies wear dresses. I’m so knocked off my center I want to crack up laughing because I can’t believe this is happening. He went on to complement my whole ensemble and was most sincere. I’m not sure, but I think he said beautiful three or four times. I graciously thank him, and he walks off to do his job. That’s when I snicker…when he’s out of earshot.

Deanna and I just look at each other grinning not sure of what to make of the whole situation, and just as Deanna says, “Be sure to show him your rock the next time he comes around,” I look over her shoulder. There was a woman sitting in scrubs, making the crazy sign around her temple, and mouthing “freak.” I grin and want to laugh again because now this bystander has put her two cents into the situation. It’s not that I look pretty; it’s that he’s crazy! Personally, I think it took a lot of courage for him to say what he said. I don’t know that I could walk up to a guy in a nice suit and say, “You are looking mighty handsome in that suit.”

Seriously, it’s nice to get complements. My momma taught me not to argue or belittle yourself when someone complements you. You are to graciously say, thank you. I don’t know the waiter’s name, and I may wait a while before I go back, and I may not wear a dress there again, but I do appreciate a complement when I get one.

I AM AN OLYMPIAN. Guess the sport.

I LOVE the Olympics! But I have to tell you, the Olympics blow my whole schedule out-of-whack. First of all, they are on till 11 PM. I’m normally in bed by 9 PM, so every night I struggle to see the ending. In June I was walking 3 miles with 120 deep lunges, but since the Olympics are on, I don’t want to miss a moment (and yes, I have DVR, but that’s not the point). Then I feel so badly for those Olympians. The sacrifices they have made to reach this pivotal point in their careers. Their diets are so strict and rigid, so I feel I need to eat dessert for them…see where this is going?


Then there’s the whole, “I could be an Olympian,” or “I wish I was an Olympian.” They are so in shape and ripped with their finely sculpted bodies that are skilled in the finer techniques of their sport making them the best in the world. My daughter has visions of becoming an Olympian in gymnastics and swimming. Problem is she can’t even do a cartwheel, and she’s 11! Yes, I have failed as a mother. So we discuss what it will take to make it to the Olympics for swimming. Then she’s not as quite committed because this girl LOVES her social time, and she just wants everyone to have fun and get along. She most certainly does not want to sweat.

One night after the children went to bed, I walked into the den and told Patrick I could go to the Olympics because I could do a cartwheel, a round-off, and as of last summer I could still do the splits. When he didn’t respond, I struck the pose as if I was about to start a tumbling layout. That got his attention. “Ummm, I don’t think so.” If he hadn’t have looked up, I would have had to do a tumble or something. It’s a good thing he didn’t tempt me.

Then there’s the whole judging thing. It’s amazing how quickly we become versed in a sport that we’ve watched for an hour. It’s hilarious. I hear my son say, “They’re going to deduct for that probably a tenth of a point.” Seriously?

These men and women work for years up to decade or so perfecting their techniques, strengthening their bodies, working on weaknesses just to have the privilege of competing in the Olympics. For some, we will never see them compete or know their names. For some we are bombarded with their names and images. Either way they aren’t satisfied with where they are. They are always trying to do a little better, get a little faster, get a little stronger. This is endurance through perseverance.

Christianity is compared to running a race:

• Acts 20:24, my only aim is to finish the race and complete the task the Lord Jesus has given me – the task of testifying to the good news of God’s grace

• 1 Corinthians 9:24, do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one gets the prize? Run in such a way as to get the prize.

• Galatians 2:23, I wanted to be sure I was not running and had not been running my race in vain

• Galatians 5:7, you were running a good race. Who cut in on you to keep you from obeying the truth?

• 1 Timothy 4:7, I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith

• Hebrew 12:1, therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us

Christianity is a race of endurance. It’s not a sprint, and you’re done. Olympians train for years before making it to London in 2012, and then afterwards, it’s not over. Many begin training for the next Olympics.

Be an Olympian of the Christian faith. Work hard on your faith when no one is looking. Spend time with Jesus and have those quiet times. Dig deeper into His Word. You have the privilege to represent Him in this life, so do your homework.

Be an Olympian of the Christian faith. Dig into the Bread of Life. What you put into your mind and body is reflected by your body, your health.

Be an Olympian of the Christian faith. Train in such a way that when you enter heaven you will hear Him say, “Well done. Your reward is at hand.” Woohoo! I can’t wait for that day to see my sweet Savior!

Be an Olympian of the Christian faith, and persevere through defeat, through pain, through trials. Even if you never become a headliner for God while on this Earth, persevere and follow the race He has laid out for you to run.

Be an Olympian!

How Do You Take Care of a Care Giver?

Every day after lunch, my Pappaw would load two plates of food in the car and take it to the nursing home where his mother and sister were living. I don’t know how many years he took care of them, but it had to be close to 10. Keep in mind I was a child. If you knew Pappaw, you knew he was a man of few words. I never heard him complain. I never heard him say a negative word about serving his mother or sister that way. Every day…a home-cooked meal.

I saw my daddy take care of my mom the year she was diagnosed with stage 3 breast cancer and the year to follow -- taking her to doctor appointments, picking up prescriptions, making notes to discuss with the doctor, watching her sleep, doing what needed to be done.

Now I see my mom taking care of my Mammaw -- emergency room runs, visits to doctors, addressing issues with her health care and living arrangements, washing her laundry, following-up on problems and working through challenges.

Are you a caregiver? The caregiver to which I am referring is someone who takes care of someone who is ill, aging…in general, someone who takes care of another person without remuneration or compensation. Neither of these are jobs people are jumping up and down waving their arms screaming, “Ooohhh, pick me! Pick me! I want that job.” But my role models in these positions have served their loved ones humbly and honorably with their whole heart and body to the point of exhaustion without complaint. They fight for their loved one because she can’t do it for herself. They feed, clothe, spend time with them, listen to them, and take care of the day-to-day life issues that others never know. They are the security blanket for the one they serve. They are the ones that are called when there is a crisis or an issue regardless of the time of day or night.

So, who takes care of the caregiver because everyone runs out of steam at some time? Who steps in and supports the caregiver when they feel at the end of their rope? What does it look like to take care of the caregiver? How do you take care of the caregiver?

It’s not just one person’s responsibility to serve. It wasn’t just my daddy’s responsibility to serve my mom, but rather, the family’s responsibility and desire to serve and honor her. Sometimes he just needed a ride-about with Daisy (the dog). Sometimes it was a listening ear. I remember Lori and I watching and listening to him as much as we did mom just to make sure he was taking care of himself, and if there was something we could do, we stepped up. What we found is that when everyone steps up and steps in to support that main caregiver, he was encouraged and refueled. It’s a long road to maintain a steady steam if you don’t have people stepping in and stepping up. Now, we watch mom as she is the primary caregiver for Mammaw. We watch to make sure she is taking care of herself. We step in and we step up to do what we can to help with Mammaw, but we are limited. So the next best thing is to take care of the caregiver. Have you ever noticed that when you are in the middle of something you don’t really realize that you are neglecting your own welfare? And considering her bout with stage 3 cancer, she doesn’t have the same endurance that she had before.

One thing I’ve noticed is that it seems to be difficult for caregivers to admit when they need help or when they need support.

So, I’m looking for ideas for taking care of caregivers. We support them when they go camping out of town, and we do what we can for Mammaw. I know we are not the only ones who have had the opportunity to serve those we love through care-giving, and I would like to know what you have done to take care of the care-givers in your family. I don’t care how out-of-the-box it is. I’d love to hear it. Lori and I are definitely out-of-the-box kind of people…anyone who can bedazzle a paper gown for their mom to wear to her next oncology appointment definitely likes creativity.

The bottom line is the caregiver has to take care of himself or herself or they are no good to anyone else, but if there is just one primary person doing the care giving, it just seems like there is something that others can do, and I’d like some fresh ideas. Feel free to call me or e-mail me or respond to this blog. Thanks!

Mammaw Groves -- The Disappearing Woman

When I was growing up there were two women who made me toe the line, two women who had an irreplaceable impact in and on my life. Obviously, one of those women was my mom. The other was her mom, Mammaw…for some of you, Mammaw Groves. I don’t ever remember a time in my life that she wasn’t in it. She kept children in her home for years. I think she was on her second generation of kids when she retired. I was always amazed at how she kept everything so organized and how smoothly things ran and how well the children minded. I remember telling the other kids, “You may call her ‘Mammaw,’ but she’s my REAL Mammaw.” When I would get sick during school, Pappaw would pick me up and take me to their house on Meriwether where I would stay in the small bedroom at the end of the hallway. I loved that house. I remember where the squeaky board was in the hallway near the space heater. I remember the big playroom. I remember Mammaw and Pappaw’s bedroom with the antique phone and the picture of the ship he was on in World War II and the picture of Carrie that hung on the wall. I remember the dining room where all the adults ate while the kids ate around a table with a barrel base. I had so many happy times in that house.

When Lori and I would spend the night over there that was when she was our Mammaw…not that she behaved any differently. Every Friday afternoon was Burger King for supper, and then we would get up and eat all the sugary cereal we wanted…my mom would not have anything like that in our house. She kept her cereal in those Tupperware cereal containers and usually had two shelves full. There was a stool under the green rotary phone that hung on the wall and A/C unit. She washed everything by hand and had a Venus flytrap in her windowsill from time-to-time.

Then there were Sundays. Since momma played the organ and daddy sang in the choir, Lori and I would sit with Mammaw and Pappaw during church. We would each get a peppermint and a quarter: the peppermint to keep our mouths quiet, and the quarter for the offering. While Pappaw fell asleep as soon as the preacher got up to preach, Mammaw sat there with her Bible being very attentive and making sure Lori and I were minding our Ps and Qs. I remember Mammaw had a Bible that my Uncle Richard brought back from the Holy Land. It had opals or some sort of jewels attached to the front. I remember seeing Mammaw read her Bible that was on her nightstand…amazing what we remember. Then there was Sunday lunch. Mammaw, Pappaw, Mom, Dad, Lori and I would go to their house to eat lunch after church. There was a time when Mammaw and Pappaw were going out of town and I asked, “Well, what are we going to do for lunch?” Like we were going to starve or something. Invariably, I would ask what we were going to have for lunch, and Pappaw would grin and say, “meatloaf.” He knew I wasn’t a fan. My favorite food she fixed was, of course, deviled eggs, but her chicken and dumplings were heavenly, as well as her Mississippi Mud Cake.

If you would have asked me to describe my Mammaw, I would have said, “She was a spirited, determined, in-control kind of person who could swat you with a flyswatter before you could bat an eye. She was head-strong and anal about pretty much everything. We used to pick at her because all of her celery would be chopped exactly the same size, along with any other fruit or vegetable she would dice. She was stubborn. When she had her knee replaced, she wasn’t wanting to do her exercises at home and wasn’t making progress. I was sent out to deal with the situation…from one stubborn person to another. It still makes me grin…BTW, she did her exercises.

When Pappaw died, she was incredibly strong. Mammaw had never lived alone or on her own before. She had never put gas in her car before…that was an interesting lesson that was repeated. When we moved her to Live Oak, she was a champ. She had the greatest outlook. Even when she was scared, she was never mean, and up until the past few months, she has thrived at Live Oak, enjoying everything life had to offer. My kids each have a painting she did in Creative Corner. But Mammaw has fallen a couple of times and most likely has had some TIAs (small strokes). Her memory isn’t what it once was because of the Alzheimer’s, so she may ask the same question several times. Her hearing isn’t what it once was…We could whisper from the front playroom, and she could hear us in the den! She not as feisty as she once was, and her ability to maintain conversations is lacking. The woman I knew from my childhood is slowly disappearing. She has gotten old.

I am so thankful to live in the same city as my grandparents. I can’t imagine my life without them. Now I have the privilege of serving her and loving her as she changes into different shades of someone I once knew. I’m thankful my children have gotten to know her. I asked Pearce, “How would you describe Mammaw?” His response, “nice, funny, joyful.” That’s how I want him to remember her.

When I talk to her I tell her stories about the kids, and that always seems to bring a smile, or I ask her questions about stories she has told me in the past. For example, her daddy told her about living in Missouri and hiding slaves escaping the South, stories about her growing up years, things she told me about Pappaw, and I tell her things I remember about her and things we all did together. She adds what she can, when she can. This is our new norm.

If you go visit Mammaw, please don’t ask her, “Do you remember me?” That question always puts someone on the spot, and then to ask that of someone with the dementia or any other memory issues…that makes it really difficult. Instead say, “Mrs. Groves, I’m _____________. You kept me when I was a little girl,” or “Mammaw, I’m ___________, and I stayed with you as a child.” Tell her your memories. If she ever loved you, she deserves this.

Inheritance -- You Have a Choice

Bear with me, you know how my ADHD can show up at the most inopportune times. Today during part of the sermon, our pastor spoke about the rich young ruler. The rich young ruler asked what must he do to inherit eternal life, and for whatever reason, my mind grabbed onto the word inheritance and wouldn’t let go. It may be because Patrick is working through his mother’s estate, but I immediately connected the word inheritance with death. Someone has to die in order for another party to receive an inheritance. In Patrick’s case, his mother passed away. Otherwise, he would have no inheritance. Inheritance is not something he or my children worked for. It was given to them because of a relationship.


It makes me wonder about the rich young ruler. Had everything been given to him? Is that why he was wealthy? He asked, “What must I do to inherit eternal life?” He saw strings attached. What do I have to do to live forever? Where’s the checklist? For Patrick, he was Gynelle’s son. It was by birth that he received his connection to the inheritance. Did he have to be a good son? Was he always perfect? No. The fact is she loved Patrick. She wanted to make sure that Patrick received part of her estate when she died, so she had a will written providing for his inheritance.

Also, the one who bequeaths the inheritance chooses who will receive and how they will receive it. Just because someone has two children doesn’t mean they will both inherit equally. What if one is estranged or deceased? Some have been known to leave nothing to their family and bequeath their estate to a charity. Some have left their estates to their pets! The one who bequeaths the inheritance has the power to choose who will receive it and under what terms and conditions.

Then I looked up the definition of inheritance, and I was reminded that we can inherit traits, characteristics and qualities from others. This still requires a relationship of some sort. My children have inherited their genetic traits from their birth parents. Pearce’s beautiful skin is not something he could have inherited from me or his critically Caucasian daddy. Erin’s curly hair and her hands are traits she received from her birth mom. I just wish I had fingernails like hers. While my children don’t have a daily relationship with their birth parents, they still have a genetic connection, a genetic relationship. Do they inherit anything from Patrick and me as their adoptive parents? Absolutely. Have you ever heard of Nature vs. Nurture? Erin is like her daddy, and Pearce is the answer to my mother’s prayers – Please God, give her one just like her!

So, regardless of how you look at it inheritance requires a relationship or connection. There is also an inequality in the relationship. There is one who has the power to give, the one who has the authority to bestow the inheritance. Then there is the other who has the choice of whether or not to receive. Just because someone bequeaths something to you in their will does not mean you have to take it. If you are that desperate for the need of power and control, if you are that angry and hurt, you can choose to reject the inheritance. There may be conditions and terms that must be met before receiving the inheritance. I can’t imagine that many people would turn down an inheritance, but there are some who will and some who do. There may be stipulations in some inheritance…strings attached. Some may have to process through their inheritance to evaluate what must be done. While others expect their inheritance to be handed over to them, while they do little if anything to attain it.

The rich young ruler wanted to know what he had to do to inherit eternal life. The sole purpose of his question showed he was only interested in wanting to live forever. I wonder if he had a fear of death, and that is why he focused on the eternal life aspect. I wonder if he sought immortality like people today seek popularity and notoriety because they want the fame. Regardless of his reasoning, the young ruler wanted eternal life.

In Mark 18, the young ruler said he had kept the commandments since he was a boy. He had crossed his t’s and dotted his I’s, but he knew there was something more.

Jesus told him to give up his lifestyle and follow him. When the young ruler could do that, Jesus could bequeath him the inheritance the rich young ruler sought. The rich young ruler would have to give up his circle of friends, his wealth, his toys, his holdings, his tangible things that could burn in a fire or be stolen in order to receive the inheritance he said he wanted.

I wonder what are you willing to relinquish to follow Christ? I’m ready for a simple way of life. I don’t need to keep up with the Joneses or the Thibodeaux. (Remember, I’m from Louisiana.) If I’m trying to keep up with the Joneses or the Thibodeaux then I’m not keeping up with Jesus.

From what source do you want to receive your inheritance? From what source do you want to receive your traits? What relationship would you prefer to have more – one with a God who can offer eternal life or one with the world in which you will never be enough, will never have enough? Jesus wants to bequeath to you eternal life. He wants to give it to you in exchange for your old life. Will you receive it, or will you walk away?

Inheritance…you have a choice.

Swimsuit Trauma

It’s that time of year again…swimsuit time. I get traumatized just thinking about having to shop for one. I break out in a cold sweat. My mouth goes dry. My stomach goes into knots and not the kind that produces a six pack either. This year shopping for my daughter was a bit more of a challenge, as well, and I predict next year will be even more so. Last year I went to a local department store and tried on several swimsuits. I was so overwhelmed by the whole experience. On the way back to the office after shopping during lunch, I stopped at the red light, and I started putting up the shield that covers my dash from the sun coming through the windshield. After I put the shield up, I looked over at the person in the lane next to me, saw she didn’t have her shield up, and realized what I had just done. Thankfully, I was able to fold the shield back up before the light turned green. SERIOUSLY! I don’t know if I was more embarrassed by the swimsuit expedition or the traffic faux paux.


So this year after briefly looking at swimsuits in a local department store, I have decided to buy my swimsuit online. I prefer to buy locally to help with our economy, but sometimes a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do. Plus, if I have to try on four or five swimsuits on just to choose the least offensive, I may have to take up drinking...maybe I'd look better in the suit if I did!

Here are my dilemmas. I’m past the age of trying to be sexy in a swimsuit, but I’d like not to be hideous. I’m long-waisted which means one-piece suits don’t typically do to well. Plus, I’m critically Caucasian; pigment challenged, some might even say, “translucently white.” My swimsuit is more for function, but I’d at least like to look cute. I need to be able to chase after the boy and tackle him and not lose the girls…know what I mean, ladies? And that’s another thing, I’d like the girls to be adequately covered. Mine are of a size that they really don’t need to be pushed up, so the first thing people see is cleavage…although my husband would not complain. I'm trying to keep in mind that I have a daughter on the cusp of puberty, and I'd like for her to be modest in her appearance.

I know I should have gotten a swimsuit before now, but I find the whole thing reprehensible and have procrastinated to the last possible moment to procure one.

These are the two suits I’m considering…maybe I’ll let Patrick make the final choice.


I'm favoring this one because of it's athletic style and functionality while still being somewhat feminine.




There are actual shorts that go with this top, but I'm still a little concerned about the top. My son will LOVE the cammo!


There were a few suits that my eye was immediately drawn to and when I scanned down the page they were around $200! I about choked on my gum.


How do you choose your suit? How much are you willing to spend? What are you looking for?

A Disheveled Life -- And ADHD

The best way I can describe my life for the past six months is disheveled. We have been without a laundry room and a kitchen for a good part of this time. For April and May, after school, I’d take the kids to my parent’s house, do laundry, cook supper, do homework, eat and then head home to do the nighttime routine. At best it was taxing.


For about a week and a half we lived at my parent’s house then we were home for a couple of weeks. Then we were at my in-law’s for a week and a half. Pearce has bad allergies, so depending on the work being done in the house determined whether or not we could sleep here.

Needless to say writing has been at the bottom of my list. I simply have not had time, and when I had time I was too exhausted to sit and write. I’m hoping that my disheveled life will be coming to an end soon. My butler’s pantry that houses our washer, dryer and freezer along with the pantry is almost finished. I have some of the cabinets in the kitchen. Pearce is still sleeping in the den on his bed because his room had to be sanded in order to be retextured and painted, but I still have hopes that by the end of summer that my house will be back in order.

Have you ever heard the saying, “The cobbler’s children have no shoes”? The remodeler’s home is undone. I don’t blame him. After doing it all day, it’s hard to come home and do more of it. When all is said and done, I’ll post pictures of Patrick’s handy work. He really is a talented craftsman. Regardless, all of this has taken a toll on me and my ADHD.

That being said, there was a question from my last post at the end of May that I’d like to address if I may. The question was how does someone with ADD/ADHD study the Bible and stay focus. This really isn’t an easy question to answer because everyone is different, but I’ll give you some things that have helped me.

• I have a chair in my office that I sit in to read and study the Bible. It’s comfortable, and it’s a place I like to be and want to be.

• I try to study the Bible when my home is quiet – which is a rarity, but most of the time it is after the kids go to bed or first thing in the morning.

• Before I open the Word of God, I pray. I ask God to show me what He would have me learn. I focus on praising Him for what He has done for me and for whom He is to me. Anytime I get distracted, I try to get back on the right page. Praise leads me into confession. There’s something about being in the presence of Almighty God that brings the sin in my life to the front and center. I ask God to open my mind and my heart to what He wants me to hear from Him.

• Then I focus on a piece of Scripture. I may read a chapter in one version today, and then read that same chapter in a different version the next day. Check out www.mystudyBible.com or www.Biblegateway.com. The next day, I will go through that chapter underlining the subject of the sentence one time and the verb twice. I’ll mark phrases that seem to repeat, and then the next day I’ll go to the commentaries. There is a good commentary on www.mystudyBible.com. Every time I read, I will make notes – what sticks out to me today? What is different about these verses? Who is in them? What have they just been through? What might have they been feeling and thinking? Is there a word I need to look up?

• As for memorizing Scripture, a sweet lady at church gave me 3*5 note cards on a spiral. Whatever verse that is speaking to me that week, I write it down on one of those cards. I keep that spiral card set in my purse or in my car. When I’m sitting at the bank or at my desk and need a little refresher or pick-me-up, I pull it out.

If you struggle with studying the Bible and memorizing whether it is because you are a new believer or ADD or ADHD, please feel free to contact me directly. I’d love to encourage you and mentor you depending on what your need is.

I hope this helps.