Sometime after my husband and I were married I discovered an old rocker that was set aside by a neighbor on the curb for bulk trash.  I remember stopping my car and, upon further examination, proclaiming it was still good.  This did not please my husband, who was then assigned the task of hauling the glider all the way back to our house.  This glider remained in working order until we got our new fence installed.  Recently, when my husband sat on it, there was a terrible rending sound and I hollered he should get up immediately.  It nearly caved in!  However, it was really a simple matter to repaint the metal and replace the wood.  Only this time we chose a much more sturdy natural cedar which we varnished with a treater against the elements.  And just look at it now!  It is such an indescribable amount of joy for me and it cost a very modest amount to have redone.  When did we become such a disposable society?  I guess because my folks grew up during the Great Depression it was ingrained upon me NOT to waste — ever.  I love our “free” glider so much, which we restored for pennies on the dollar.  It resides under our redbud tree overlooking our koi pond.  And it is so relaxing to sit and listen to the waterfalls while watching our fish swimming languidly, fanning their beautiful long tails through the water.  The American author Neil Strauss said:

“Almost everyone who reaches a plateau where he or she is happy and comfortable says it’s because of finding balance between work, relaxation, exercise, socialising and family – plus some alone time to do something contemplative, creative, or educational.”

I think I may have stumbled upon this inadvertently … and it is on the bench.

When our little one was born she was perfect.  And I can say that truthfully because she got a ten on her APGAR test.  I did not even know what that was at the time but it was the first thing I proudly announced, after her birth statistics.  I came across this picture and could not resist posting.  Every once in a while when our little one sweeps her long, jet black eyelashes down, I literally get a glimpse of my late father in her.  I have written before that a couple of weeks after she was born she developed this “birthmark.”  It never bothered any of us although we were constantly having to explain it.  I had fluoride stains on my two front teeth that made me self-conscious all of my life.  Despite modeling and being in the Miss Texas U.S.A. pageant it is a great insecurity I still feel today.  The stains are now gone but the scars still remain.  My husband and I did not want that for our little girl.  The final straw for me was when a grown woman pointed straight at her and exclaimed, “EW, WHAT IS THAT?!” and then I watched my tiny one slowly lift her hand up to her cheek.  She does not remember it because she was I guess about two and a half but I certainly do.  So we made the decision to give her two laser treatments and have it removed.  The American basketball coach and multiple championship winner John Wooden once said, “Just do the best you can.  No one can do more than that.”  My daddy used to say something very similar.  It is ironic that I have not pierced her ears because I wanted her to make her own decision and yet I chose to make this incredibly important decision for her.  I really tried to do what I thought was best.  She has said she still wishes she had it.  I told her regardless of whether she can still see it or not it will always be there … a paw print on my heart.

Mother’s Day:  as a female, what does that mean?  Celbebrating your mother or being one yourself?  At some point is it both?  This day has been a silent, painful struggle for me for two reasons:  1)  I had an “older” mother who was 38 when I was born and 2)  I was an even older mother at 41 when our daughter was born.  Thankfully I think most churches have done away with the “honors” of youngest mothers, mothers with most children, etc.  I believe they had no idea how incredibly painful it was for women struggling against infertility.  To celebrate the woman with the most children for the woman who could not have any is a kind of pain I truly would not wish upon my worst enemy.  I may have said before I was only blessed a couple of Mother’s Days where I had both my mother and my daughter.  To say they were precious would be an understatement.  Now I struggle with the heartache of missing my mother while finally experiencing the joy of having my own daughter, her namesake.  HOW I wish my mother could have been with her longer on this earth.  I marvel at the similarities between them.  She is so much like my mother that it seriously freaks both my husband and me out.  Our daughter wants her Chapstick (lipstick), her purse, and wears different jewelry before she goes out.  She says the same phrases there is no way she could have ever heard from my mother.  My husband and I have remarked that going out with her is just like going out with my mother when she was alive.  My mother was a gentle but strong force in my life.  I strive to be the same for my daughter.  The sixteenth President of the United States, Abraham Lincoln, said, “All that I am, or hope to be, I owe to my angel mother.”

Growing up in an apartment, there are some things I discovered on my own never to gripe about or take for granted.  For instance:  painting, yard work, or planting.  It’s funny what people complain about when they do not fully realize what they have.  I suppose I might have been the same way, too but those were not the circumstances under which I grew up.  And, as incredibly difficult as they were, it served to shape and mold me into the person I am today.  My husband and I are just about identical in thought which I have always found somewhat fascinating and unusual given our very disparate backgrounds.  One of the things I want most for my child is to fully understand the difference between fortunate and unfortunate.  Fortunate is not a trip to Europe:  fortunate is healthy parents and food on the table.  I believe she gets her inherent kindness from both of us and I feel it is my job to make sure she understands that the definition of “fortunate” varies greatly.  In some countries — and on Indian reservations right here in the United States — that means access to clean drinking water and electricity.  Many native peoples STILL do not have these; and this is not supposed to be a “third world” county.  My husband and I have been blessed, thanks to my mother-in-law and step-father-in-law’s help, to have our house for over ten years now.  It is the first and only house I have ever had.  I STILL cannot get used to the sensation of not having loud music thumping through the walls, being able to actually see out of a window from the kitchen, and having my own piece of land where I can plant.  We have colored walls, ceiling fans, a wood-burning fireplace, a screened porch, and two stories — all the things I always wished for growing up.  I do not want our little one taking any of these things for granted.  Sadly, in Dallas it is far too easy to get caught up in whose house is more huge, who drives what car, etc.  I was the one “poor” kid surrounded by affluency in an elite city chorus when I was a child.  I was so ashamed of my father’s car I begged him to drop me off where the other girls wouldn’t see me.  I have one vivid memory, though, of us taking a break at the water fountain and this girl had her hair in gorgeous French braids — something I’d always wanted.  Another girl complimented her and she looked very sad as she said her nanny did it.  I realized then how fortunate I really was.  For ten years we have not had our own fence for one whole side of our house; the side which borders the only neighbors we have.  The fence along the alley was starting to waggle precariously like a child’s baby teeth and our old wooden fence was just single board pine and only six feet tall.  One can build up to eight feet without a permit.  My husband was the one who really wanted us to have this and we were able to go the two feet higher and have a sturdier cedar with a crown.  Since we do not have a big yard I feared it would close us in but, on the contrary, I feel liberated.  The American poet Robert Frost once quipped, “Don’t ever take a fence down until you know why it was put up.”  Seeing it all taken down like this I realized how incredibly important it was to finally have our own fence.  At last I feel we have some measure of privacy as well as security and it looks beautiful — plus I know it truly belongs to us.