The Picture

My mother-in-law "suggested" we have the boy's pictures taken for her Christmas present this year. We take a million snap shots throughout the year and my computer at home is filled with pictures of them, but this wasn't what she was talking about. No, she meant the dreaded "family picture"...you know, put on some-what cordinated clothing, comb your hair and smile pretty for the wierd person waving the feather duster and repeating "fuzzy pickles" a million times. If you have a mother, or a mother-in-law, you know that the subtle (or not so subtle) suggestion means that you will immediately get in the car and participate in the antics of the photographer to hopefully catch the perfect moment.

While Chris and I have many friends who are accomplished and/or budding photographers who would have made this experience much more personal and quite memorable, we have procrastinated until there is no appropriate outdoor setting and 30 degree temperatures. Thus, we herd into the portrait studio with the rest of Cool Springs for 86 "fuzzy pickles" and a couple of "smelly feet". The gift that I'm sure my mother-in-law thought was $9.95 as advertised in the coupon that accompanied the "suggestion", rounded out at about $200 by the time we included all the pictures that our friendly photographer suggested, Chris requested and Caleb was going to die without not to mention a brown shirt for Chris, jeans for Derek and haircuts for everyone

(except me, who you will notice desperately needs one).

Time is flying by and we are just trying to hang on and keep things going. The craziness of these times will soon be forgotten. So, while our photo shoot might not have been the most exciting two-hours of our holiday season, we left with a couple pictures that we'll have in the years to come. Pictures that we can look back on and remember that Caleb had just celebrated his 6th birthday, Russ was laughing so hard through the entire shoot that we had trouble getting pictures of him with his eyes open and without the plastered "smile" and that Derek HATED his haircut. We'll remember that Chris was not at all happy that we were getting our pictures taken and that Caleb kept telling Lauren (our photograhper) "he is a police man, that's why he can't smile." It was hysterical.

I don't know if everyone's experience in front a photographer is as stressful and exhausting as ours, but I'm hoping not...or maybe I'm hoping so because if not, then there's even more wrong with us than I think! Regardless of the hoops it took to get there, our family has once again, been frozen forever in the picture.

Answered Prayers

I spent almost all day yesterday thinking about all the exhausting things that are going on in our world and in the lives of my friends and family. I have been overcome with grief and sadness for each of my friends who are suffering with sickness and death in their families; my heart is heavy for others who are struggling to find money for bills, much less Christmas presents and I have been burdened with uncertanities in my own position and how we would survive financially beginning next month. I have suffered in silence for most of these as I know that others are laden with their own stresses and don't need to waller with me. Not to mention that in the grand scheme of things, my family is healthy, we have our basic needs met and we are together; what more could someone actually want. There is so much to be Thankful for. Still, my mind has constantly been consumed with the worry and incertitude of our future.

Today, I was handed an answer to so many of my personal prayers. My job, which was scheduled to transition next month has been extended for an additional six months; the kind and compasionate, always generous owner of our company has provided for five months of my children's dyslexia therapy next year and I was given two accounts to manage that are providing additional income. For the first time in weeks, I feel like I have taken a complete breath.

"Therefore, I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat; or about your body, what you will wear. Life is more than food, and the body more than clothes. Consider the ravens: They do not sow or reap, they have no storeroom or barn, yet God feeds them. And how much more valuable you are than the birds!" Luke 12:22-25

My heart is still broken for the stuggles we are all facing and I still miss my friend, Tim, imensely; those things will not change. But now, I can focus on loving my friends and being God's arms on earth for them without distraction for my own needs. God is good, all the time and today, I'm praising him for answered prayers.

The Surprises

"Today is the 4th, today is my birthday" he exclaimed as he bounded out of bed this morning. Caleb has been counting down the days to his birthday since Monday. Every morning he has reminded me of the date and when his birthday is...like I could forget!

We never expected this little life to join ours; you see, he is our own little marvel. I can remember being sick, oh so sick for a week or more, and only at night. Finally, after I threw up for and hour and half straight, I decided it was time to take the test. I don't even know why, but I did. Immediately, there was no denying it. I remember calling my sister...and it was LATE, "So, how do you feel about being an Aunt again?" She just kinda giggled; maybe she thought I was kidding. Chris was at work and I toyed with the idea of waiting until the morning to tell him because I had no idea what his reaction would be. Who can lay there with such news and not share it and why should I ponder alone? He answers the phone and tells me he's headed to serve a warrant...oh, bad timing I think, probably out loud. I told him to call me when he was done. I guess he could hear the "secret" in my voice because he proceeded to tell me everyone was waiting on him and he wasn't getting out of the car until I told him what I needed. Realizing there was no escape, I just blurted it out, scared to death of what he might say back...not that it was my fault or we could do anything about it. Well, that terd just died laughing at me. And that, was the beginning of surprises that this little moster brought us.

We didn't find out if he was to be a girl or a boy and all bets were on a girl because everything with him was different...everything from the way I carried him to the way I felt and all the wierd things that happened while I was pregnant. Derek and Russ were both early by at least one week...Caleb was late by the same. Labor with the first two rounds, quick and ultimately easy, the third time was NOT a charm. D and R, 7 pounds 10 & 11 ounces...C, 9 1 1/2 . He looked like a toddler!! Oh, did I mention...he was very, very, very far from a girl. I remember when Dr. Groos held him up, I just burst out laughing and yelled loud enough to everyone in the hallway that we were all wrong! It took me forever to get over it; I felt like he had pulled some big switch-a-roo on us. it was hysterical!

The surprises just keep coming. We never know what is going to come out of his mouth and we never know what he'll do next. The second we figure it out, he changes it all around. I guess he just wants to keep us on our toes. Maybe we should have named him something foreign that means surprise, but we didn't realize what we were in for. There is no telling where this little punkin will lead us next or what great surprises we'll encounter along the way, but we're blessed to have shared his world for six years and we're looking forward to many, many more.

Happy birthday sweet boy; you are one of my most favorite surprises!

The "C"

As I cautiously opened the "beary good work blue folder" (which is actually red now), I searched for the all-telling sticker to reassure me that we had successfully completed another day of kindergarten. It was there and I breathed yet another thankful breath and muttered a "thank you Jesus" as I began sifting through the papers and work that accompanied our daily report. There it was, hidden behind a cut and paste activity... at first glance, the lenghty hand-written notes on the page would lead a well-experienced mother such as myself to be overly concerned, but the but the big purple smiley face helped to assure me it was worth closer look.

"Notice his 'C' is not backwards. He is trying so hard!" I almost fell into the floor. "Caleb is doing SO (yes capitalized and underlined twice) Great! I sit next to him in class and a lot times he copies my work but I make him tell me the answers first!...seriously, if she hadn't used his name in the sentence, I might have questioned who's child she was discussing. This was a the greatest early Christmas present I think I've ever received. Well, maybe there has been one more, but I digress and that's for another time and place!

Who would have ever known that a "C" facing the right instead of the left could create such joy and excitment in a household? There were brothers shouting, parents jumping up and down and animals looking at us all like we had lost our minds. It was a full-on party at the Woodard house! I wish I had thought to take a picture of the greatest part though...the beaming face of my sweet baby-boy who had tasted victory and success! It's okay that we don't have it because none of us will ever forget that moment...it is etched in our memories forever.

You see, this "C" has meant so much to our lives recently. It was this backwards "C" that lead us to Cindy, our guardian angel at Dyslexia Center of Tennessee (DCT). It was this "C" that has brought us to this point of such hope. This backwards "C" was the beginning of a successful future for two of my boys. If it hadn't been for this backwards "C", we would still be floundering around wondering what in the world we were doing wrong and how our sweet Russy could be working so hard and not accomplishing his goals. We wouldn't understand why our Caleb-monster was just that...a monster when he is frustrated because he realizes the things he is doing are backwards or incorrect. Without this crazy backwards "C", our lives wouldn't be in such a great place right now. This "C" has brought about amazing change in the Woodard's World!

To add to the monumental success of this "C", our precious teacher, Mrs. Pantall left for maternity leave before Thanksgiving as did our wonderful educational assistant, Ms. Mindy. It has been a scary time for the parents of this special little boy, wondering how he would react to a new teacher and assistant and if he would continue to thrive and grow or shut down completely. If day two of Mrs. Swanson and Mrs. Chris's class is any indication of our future, Mrs. Pantall is going to return to class in March and scream out loud! You see, that's what Mrs. Pantall does when you do something fantastic in her classroom...she screams out loud because she gets so excited. Caleb just giggles talking about how she would have screamed if she had seen it.

So, go ahead, take a look for yourself...even scream out loud if you want...no one in my house will think anything of it...heck, we're still here celebrating ourselves. Celebrating the 'C'

Job Well Done

One week ago today, my sweet friend Becky (to the left) called me to tell me that the love her life, Tim, had been called home to his Lord and Savior. I can remember clearly the sadness in her tone, but even more than that, I remember the protection in her voice, protecting me from what she was saying. In my slumberous stupor, I asked her three times to repeat what she had said, "Tim didn't make it"...I couldn't imagine that I heard her correctly. I had seem Tim & Becky in the emergency room just four days beforehand and I was very aware that Tim had been sick, but the multiple conversations that Becky and I had between our encounter at the ER and this painful phone call never foreshadowed this event.

Of course, there were the questions of what and when and how, but my focus turned immediately to Becky and Trey and how we could love them the way Tim always loved on all of us. You see, Tim Sewell was the man you loved instantly; he was just that type of guy, the man who lived out all of his convictions, morals and values, a true example of God's love on earth. He and Becky became our friends almost two years ago after they moved here from Memphis for Tim's job. I remember meeting them at the ball field and realizing that Trey had been one of "my kids" while I was subbing at Page Middle School. Derek and Trey became fast friends on the ball field and we even drug him along on vacation with us. Becky is the quiet type but we have become great friends despite our polar opposite personalities. Chris and Tim called nearly 100% of every baseball game at Bethesda together for the past two years; they were pretty inseparable on the field and made a great team. I remember when they became friends...it was in Cookeville at a tournament that they were coaching for Trey and Derek...it was early in the season two years ago and Chris and Tim paled around while I hung with my mom and sister; Becky wasn't there because she was in Memphis with a friend of her's who's mother had passed away. That's the Sewell's for you, always going the extra mile to love on someone else!

The last week has been a whirlwind of emotions; oh how all three Woodard boys love their "Timmy"...Caleb Woodard would run past his own parents to get his arms around Tim Sewell and Russ had been known to spend the night there even when Derek wasn't going over. Derek had a super special relationship with Tim; while their relationship was built on the ball field, he knew Tim Sewell loved him probably as much as Chris and I do. Last year, before school-ball tryouts, Chris was out of town for work; Tim and Trey drug Derek up to the ball fields at Bethesda every night and worked all of the kinks out for him...he made the team and Tim was the first person he called. Again, that was Tim always going the extra mile. I can still hear the hurt in Derek's voice when I told him last Sunday...that is a pain I won't quickly forget. And then, I will always remember him looking me in the eye and saying "I need to see Trey"...he didn't know what to say when we got there and he didn't know what to do, but he knew he needed to be there with him.

Derek went to the funeral with us and he too noticed how my sweet friend spent the entire time comforting everyone else. As you walked up to her, she would hold you and tell you how much Tim loved you and how it was all going to be okay; she was a rock, she was amazing. I couldn't help but think about how their entire lives are a living legacy of God's love and how He is in control. She called me Monday from Memphis as they were heading to make all the funeral arrangements and I just sobbed on the phone...she laughed at me! "It's going to be okay Kaycie" she said. I've talked to her multiple times and every time, she's holding her own; however, constantly reminding me that it isn't her keeping it together.

They are coming back home today and I can't wait to see her, to get my arms around her for longer than 5 minutes. I know she has been home with her family and their friends in Memphis, but we love them here too and want to love her the way that she and Tim have loved us for the last two years. I don't even know how to do that, but we'll keep trying until we get it right!

We never know what the Lord has in store for us, but we know that He has a plan and that our life here is short. I challenge us all to live our lives in a way that when our family faces our home going they will have the love and support of others who's lives we have touched and bettered. That is the life that God calls us to live. That is the life that Tim Sewell lived and as I have shared with many of our friends over the past week, the crown of jewels that he is wearing in heaven must be heavy! I can only imagine the joy in Tim's heart when the Lord looked at him last Sunday and said "Son, I am proud, job well done."

The Reins

Where in the world have you been?...that is the sentiment of most all of my friends lately, so you aren't alone if you are wondering.

Basketball is in full swing and for two months, Amy (my friend and co-commissioner) and I have been drowning in basketball! Now, we're just managing our own three teams (each) and everyone else's. Russ is covered up with homework and dyslexia center work so I feel like we're constantly doing homework...and he hates EVERY minute of all of it. Derek played soccer at school and I swear there were games everyday and he squeezed in a baseball travel team try-out as well (we haven't heard back from that yet). Caleb has been working just as hard as Russ to try and figure out everything he's supposed to be learning...we're reading books, practicing letters and trying our darnedest to learn that a C faces the right, and not the left. Chris went out of town for a week in there somewhere for negotiator level three school, so if you ever need help getting one of your children to let go of one of the other ones; he's your man! My office is CRAZY...we are running full speed ahead in what often seems like circles! My sister and sister-in-law both had birthdays (on the same day) in October...we celebrated with Brandi at the annual "Pretty Pretty Princess Party" that included costumes this year...they have been BANNED going forward and Jenny went out of town with her hubby to celebrate the big 3-0. Other than a blur of these events, I'm not even sure how we got from September to Thanksgiving.

Life is barrelling on and I feel completely out of control...God is telling me it's time to slow down, it's time to step back and hand over the reins...I don't want the reins; haven't ever wanted them. I'm praying that whatever is causing me to cling to them will be relinquished to the one who reigns.

The Plan

"It's so great to see you, thanks for coming." If she only knew, if she only knew how great it was to see her, to finally see her...to be able to get answers. Did she know that all of our (or at least my) hopes and dreams for my babies were hanging on what she had to say this morning? I tried to look calm, together and under control, if you know me, you know that I probably didn't. Chris was quiet, but if you know him, that's what he does too.


The shiny blue folder slid across the table to me, sparkling as if it were stars shining in the crystal clear mid-night sky of Texas...I remember that sky from a dove hunt with my favorite hunting partners; Daddy & Jenny...as always, I digress. Inside the folder are packets of disertation regarding the official diagnosis of my precious Russell B. Frantically, I am scanning for anything that I understand, anything that provides an answer, anything that...is written in a language I can understand! What is with these doctor-types? They write everything in terminology that only they can understand.

Cindy's calm and smiling face comes to rest beside Chris at the table, who, has been looking at me with the "what the heck does it say" face the entire time I was attempting to interpret the exposition. I believe we both began the nervous fidgeting at this point. Cindy giggles in a very understanding and knowing manner and offers to explain the results to us. There are graphs and charts and paragraphs and more paragraphs follwed by additional paragraphs about the outcome of Russ's one-and-a-half-hour assesment last week. Cindy begins with the three types of dyslexia and which one it is that Russ has, dysphoneidetic or "mixed" dyslexia which means he has a little bit of all the characteristics...this is extremly common. Why at this moment am I so relieved that I cannot even hear what she is saying any longer? Why, why in the world would I be so elated that she just reveled test results confirming my child's disorder? It is because now, now we can begin to learn, to heal...now we begin to live!

Our meeting goes on for about an hour and we leave knowing that Russ, who should rate about a 3.2 (third grade, second month) is on average a 1.5 (first grade, fifth month). Bless his heart...I cannot imagine his stuggles, trying to do third grade work on a first grade education/ability...the clarity at this point is sickening! However disheartning the results maybe, there is such hope. Hope that when he reaches 4th grade, he will be able to function completely, without need for modification, AT GRADE LEVEL! Who would have ever thought?

We start next week, we start with the plan. All I have been needing for weeks is a plan and now we have it...now we have the plan.

The Signs

"The signs are there." How can those words sound so reassuring? As Cindy spoke them today, I found myself almost relieved. Russ went for his "testing" this morning at the Dyslexia Center of Tennessee. Cindy and I have chatted many times over the past week or so, first about Caleb and now, ultimately, in regards to Russell B himself. She spent and hour and a half with him this morning, talking, building block patterns, spelling words and reading. Through all of this fun and excitement, she was able to unofficially tell us that the signs are there for dyslexia, but it is not a severe case. He struggles with processing as she put it, has a very low phonics base and gets lost in the details of things. She might as well have said everything in German or Latin because it all sounded foreign to me. The only thing that was loud and clear is that she is able to help him. Honestly, I don't know that I even need to know more, but we'll be in her office again next Friday to get all of the official results and create the plan. What a blessing that the Lord used my little punkin-headed-five-year-old and his backwards letters to bring us to the answer for possibly him, but definately, his big brother. It might be silly, but today, I'm celebrating "the signs".

The Heart of a Big Brother

"I don't want kids to make fun of them" is what he muttered through sniffles and watery eyes. Derek busted me working on the paperwork for Russ' testing on Wednesday when he snuck up on me at the table after his nightly 3-miles. He grabbed the paperwork and began mouthing to me "Does Russ have this?” not wanting to alarm his little brother. Equally as quiet, I shrugged my shoulders and hoped his lip reading skills would allow him to understand "We don't know, but it's possible; it’s possible they both do." This began a frantic scanning of the material as he rushed to understand what this might mean and lead to an equally frantic escape to his room where, behind closed doors, he sobbed as hard as he had when we told him my Grandmother was having her leg amputated last year. His heart was broken. I tried to comfort him, but all he could envision was his baby brothers being harassed and made fun of because of their circumstances by uncaring, ruthless peers. I told him, "this is possibly the beginning of their freedom, this is the how they learn to succeed, how to be in control of the situation. This is a good thing Derek." Maybe, I was again reassuring myself as much as I was him, but it is the truth. Derek looks at me, tears steaming down his face, "Mom, Russ does most everything on that paper." There was no argument to be had and any questions or second thoughts that I might have had ten minutes earlier, were eliminated by the words of a heartbroken 14-year-old brother. Russ does struggle with most everything in the pamphlet and this is where we get help. This is where our Lord provides a guardian angel. This is where our journey begins! This is also where you learn the true heart of a big bother!

An Old Dog Can Learn New Tricks

Well, she's not actually an old dog, but she sure has learned some new tricks. This post is just a good-old-fashioned shout out to my hero. She's spent the last year ramping up to start her own business and today, it's up and running. It might not have all the kinks worked out and there are many, many more ideas to ponder and experiment but she is officially in business (for a month now). I'm not sure her stomach will ever be the same or that she'll ever stop being the nervous nelly, but I couldn't be more proud of her. Way to go Mom!!! I love you.

The First Decade

For better or worse, that was our pledge. We had no idea what that meant, no idea of the "worse" that could come out of nowhere and knock you of your feet and completely unaware of the blessings that the better could bring. We were just kids, 22 and 23. Derek was 4 and probably as ready to make such a commitment as we were. I look at the pictures today and think, we look like babies; we were.

There have been ups and there have been downs. I can't tell you how many of either or that the better outnumbers the worse, maybe it does, and maybe it doesn't. There isn't a day that's easy and there isn't a minute that doesn't take work. The laughter is still there and the joy that we found in each other which lead to those vows hasn't disappeared, but sometimes, sometimes it gets lost in the hustle and bustle of everyday life...in the hectic schedules, the struggles at school, the laundry, the bills, the ballgames, the jobs and the stress of keeping it all going.

We were able to get away this weekend for four days, four days with no need to find someone else's socks, no lunches to pack, no ballgames to rush too, no bills to find in the mailbox, no work to report to, no major crisis to respond to. "Do you hear that?" Chris asked, "No" I replied, "isn't it great!" We spent hours doing little to nothing, I think I slept 18 of the first 24 hours of our trip. It was rest, it was rejuvenation, it was wonderful! There wasn't anywhere to be, anywhere to go, nothing that had to be done and no one waiting for some completed task or depending on our next move. It was relief, it was the opportunity to regroup, refresh, breathe again. We didn't do anything really, but that's the beauty of being with someone that completes your soul, someone that gets you...you don't have to do anything. You don't even have to talk.

As I look back on the events that have occurred over the last decade which have earned us the right to take this four day hiatus; I laugh, I cry, I cringe, I roll my eyes, shake my head and I am thankful. Thankful that through it all we were together. Maybe not always on the same page, maybe not in the same place, but always together. It's the together that gets us through (and sometimes the apart, but I am giggling as I write that).

I don't always know why, but he is the love of my life. When you're a little girl, you spend days, months, years dreaming about that one man that will sweep you off your feet and bring your fairy tale to life. You have to know that I grew up witnessing the fairy tale. Joe and Pam Loftin are as "cheesy and happy-ending" as it gets. Watching and longing for that your whole life creates big shoes to fill. I don't know that we anywhere near their cheesy and we're still writing our "ever-after" but in the grand scheme of things, we've got the "happily" down-pat. I tell him all the time, I couldn’t get through this life of ours with anyone else.

We’ve earned lots of badges of honor as they say and we’ve done it together. It wasn’t always easy and wasn’t always fun, but it was ours, our first decade.

The Meeting

Bright and early, well maybe just early, we rolled into Chapman's Retreat Elementary School's parking lot; waiting for our appointment with Russ' teacher the morning after receiving the 4th two-page note (this one type-written) from Caleb's teacher. I'm not even sure we're both awake at this time but I know we're both nervous. Nervous because we're not sure what to expect. Not sure because we've not crossed these bridges before and we're not sure if we're be realistic (I'm sure that Chris is and I'm probably not, but that's beside the point), if we're asking too much, if we're over-reacting (again, I probably am) or if there really is a problem. We only know that this year is turning out to be a very hard year.

Russ works very, very hard at his homework and studying at home; he works harder than I ever did and 100 times harder that Derek does, has and/or ever will. Yet, his grades and frustration level don't reflect his effort and work. He has been blessed with a very kind and gentle teacher this year; one with whom Chris and I were both impressed at open house and who immediately fits us into her schedule to discuss our concerns. We meet her at the front doors of the school at literally, 6:30am before we're heading out for our mini-anniversary trip. I have graded papers in hand, not that I really even know what I'm going to do with them. She smiles that warm and welcoming smile and we try to respond with the same.

Sitting on the couch across from her, I feel like the student, the nervous and anxious student and my heart breaks for my sweet Russy who feels this way every day. She is very quick to remind us of the great transition period between 2nd and 3rd grade and tells of the overall immaturity of this year's 3rd graders in general. There is discussion of it being "early in the year" and "just not getting it yet". She is encouraging in her tone and choice of words. While she discusses all the extra things that we can do to help him, I continue to hear a common theme, the theme is "modify to show success." I am the first, very very first, to pray for my children's success and self-esteem. There are many, many prayers that sound identical to "Lord, please let this be a positive experience for him. Let him feel successful and give him confidence." I do not under any circumstance want any of them, or any other child to feel defeated. However, I am concerned about this modifying everything. "If he can't spell all 15 words, we'll drop him down to 10", "Stop studying so hard, spend 20 - 30 minutes and be done, otherwise, he'll hate school"...this is all good for the moment, but at what point are we going to get beyond the here and now and the feel-good? When are we going to find out what is causing this struggle? When do we begin to help him overcome this obstacle and achieve true success? "We won't let him fail third grade." Thank you, but is that really the worst thing that can happen here? No, I don't think so. The worst thing that can happen here is that we continue to cover-up the underlying issue that is holding him back, frustrating him to his core and causing him to fall farther and farther behind.

Please excuse me while I get up on my soap box and excuse me if I offend you in anyway. My comments are not toward any of Russ' teachers and not toward any teacher that I know. I know that each and every one of his teachers have loved him deeply and they have worked and worked to help him and each year he has made great strides, but at this point, he is realizing he can't do the work the other kids are doing. He needs hero, he needs an answer, he needs someone to step outside of the typical success model and think "one day, Russell Barton Woodard is going to be responsible for taking care of himself, functioning in society, obtaining gainful employment and hopefully, supporting and providing for a family of his own." He and many other children, and there are many of them, are still responsible for 100% of the information and skills that are being taught them, they will still be held accountable for this knowledge but yet, someone somewhere is making it okay for our teachers to "remove" these elements from their daily workload in order to make sure the child(ren) can feel successful and reach the necessary goals to promote to the next level. I appreciate the time and concern that Ms. F spent with us at school I believe that she is genuinely concerned for Russ specifically and wants what is best for him, but our system has taught our teachers to modify until there is success. I want them to go back to teaching until there is success. I have to say that I believe 100% in modification for students who need the modification, but until testing has proven that there is no other option, we need innovative, out-of-the-box teaching that reaches our children where they are an pulls them up to their potential.

I left the meeting more concerned and exhausted than when we entered; not at Ms. F, but at the situation. I am depleted of all thoughts outside of helping my son; the answers we received cannot be the right answers, not at this time anyway. My heart is heavy and my thoughts are leaden with the struggles of my two boys and all they are going through this year...how to help them, how to find the answers, how to be their hero. I am consumed with their needs.

Praise be to the Lord, to God our Savior, who daily bears our burdens (Psalm 68:19). Without him, my burdens, I could not carry.

Hope

Caleb, that is what my precious baby wrote on the top of his paper. Only, it was from the right-hand side of the paper moving across to the left and all the letters were formed in his kindergarten handwriting, completely backwards. In my most calm and unconcerned voice, I praise him "Caleb, you did such a great job writing your name; I am very proud of you." His face beaming with a victorious smile. "When you write your name at school, don't you start from this corner (pointing to the left)?" A confident reply of "No ma'am, Ms. Pantall says we start right here."

This was the first glimpse of backwardness that Caleb showed me, to be followed in a few days by putting the letters of his brother's name on the refrigerator in magnetic letters backwards. After some quick research on the internet, and yes, I know that you should NEVER go to the internet for information, but seriously, what else was I supposed to do in a panic, I came to realize that out of 32 general behaviors and characteristics of a dyslexic, Caleb is a dead-ringer for 16 of them. The report says that most dyslexics would exhibit ten. As I read, goose bumps cover my arms and my heart beats faster; I feel like a window has been opened and the light is shinning for possibly the first time in several years.

I speak to his teachers who do not mention "the word" and encourage me to give him more time to develop. His pediatrician immediately refers me to the dyslexia center in Brentwood. This is where I find my guardian angel and my hope.

Cindy Loftin, by coincidence and not relation, answers my call. She hears all that I have to say and offers many suggestions and encouragement. Her voice is soothing and confident, never concerned or shocked. She confirms that what I have witnessed and explained to her sounds very much like text-book dyslexia but discusses the possibilities and the limitations they have at this time due to Caleb's age and offers direction as to assistance he should receive at school. Then, she begins to give me other warning signs to watch for as he develops over the next year to two. It is this description that catches me completely off guard.

She talks of struggles with reading, reading that is consistently right at or below grade level and frustration that exists in the process. She mentions that teachers might not feel the problem is severe enough to warrant additional support from the school. She warns me that work might begin to become overwhelming and he might become unable to complete the assigned tasks in the allotted time frames even though he is working diligently and is on task. He might continue to spell based on pronunciation versus actual spelling and could possibly excel in math but struggle with word problems.

As her words continue, a picture of someone else very near and dear to my heart is revealed and I sit almost unable to speak. I have to stop her in mid sentence. She is talking about my Russ. My sweet, quiet “Russell” who has struggled and fought his way to 3rd grade. Who spends at least an hour and usually an hour and a half each night on homework and studying that should really probably only take about twenty to thirty minutes. My precious punkin who has continuously told me this year "I'm the dumbest kid in my class" to which I have demanded is absolutely NOT dumb and endlessly encouraged to continue to study hard and be less harsh with himself. This tactic is not really working though, as hard as he is working, he is bringing home grades that should be representative of a student who pays no attention in class and cares very little about his/her work.

I have been at a loss of how to help him; I have cried and been broken-hearted, I have stressed about it with my Mom and with Chris...and now, now this angel has brought hope to us. She has offered a possible solution to his struggles, to both of their struggles. Solutions that will require work, but will provide tools and opportunities for success that are, at this point, evading us. My heart is bursting with emotion. While none of this is in concrete and is completely untested at this point, I just bask in the faithfulness of our Lord who always brings us hope.

The Fever

The fever has struck at the Woodard household. The second Chris walked in the door from church traffic this afternoon, TVs were blaring and commentators echoed throughout the house. It's not enough to just watch the Titans' game, oh no, we must see them all! How else will we know how the fantasy teams are doing? No, that isn't a misprint, I did say teams. This year, "He Hate Me" is only participating in two leagues; I guess I should count my blessings. It would be bad enough if only Chris caught this awful fever, but oh no, it spreads like ragweed through my house and anyone of the male persuasion becomes glued to the television. I guess I neglected to include professional sports in my official band this year....I'll know better next time!

Far from the Red-Rubberband-Gun

For years, I hunted with my Daddy. We hunted birds...quail, dove and on the rare occasion, duck. I realized on my very first, uneventful and unsuccessful duck hunt that regardless of how cool it was for me to tout it to the boys, it was way too cold! Quail hunting was my favorite; I loved the time that Daddy and I spent in the woods walking and talking. I am sure that is why I have such a long stride in my step today because at 12, you had to bust it to keep up my 6' 2", long-legged father! I loved to watch the dogs work and I loved the sound that only a flushed covey of quail can make. I will never, ever forget the first time I heard that flutter. I couldn't even shoot, I jumped just about all the way out of my three layers of clothes! We had great times together those days and those are the memories I will always treasure.

It soon became evident that quail had no where to live in our area so as the dogs passed, so did our time in the woods. By the time I was in high-school, dove hunting was my only opportunity to sport my camo. Note that when I was hunting, you didn't find a "ladies fit" camouflage anything, anywhere. That Mossy Oak fitted ladies hat with a pink insignia that I wanted so badly yesterday, was nowhere to be found while I was picking off birds!

By this time, Jenny was becoming quite the experienced shooter as well and people took notice when "those girls" entered the field. What the boys didn't know is that we started early. As soon as Henry Horton opened for the season, we were blowing through shells and targets making sure that we'd be on fire come September 1st. It wasn't really about being better than the boys; it was about making Daddy proud. It was just icing on the cake when our trophy pile was bigger than theirs.

When Derek was little, he spent many an hour outside shooting at anything that moved with his little red rubber band-shooting-wooden-shot-gun and we were positive he'd follow in our footsteps. We knew he'd have the passion and the love for the game that we did. At five years old, we even took him with us to the dove field. By this time his red gun had shot its last rubber band, but he fashioned himself a new one with a nearby tree branch and shot up the sky. He fetched downed birds all afternoon and could have given even the best trained four-legged-retrievers a run for their money. Back at Mom and Dad's, he climbed into the back of the truck where we were cleaning birds. This particular season, I was a million months pregnant with Russ and the size of the truck itself. Derek just burst out in tears; "Mom, what if that bird were pregnant like you?" What do you say to that? My sweet little 5-year old boy couldn't imagine loosing his mom and his soon-to-be bother or sister for what he considered "sport" and he was positive that the bird families felt exactly the same. For some reason, the standard, "population control" and "habitat" speeches just didn't really work for this objection. Derek's bird-hunting passion ended right then and there.

Fast forward to fourteen years of age. The boy has decided that as long as they are going to be eaten, it's okay to pluck a few birds from the sky and protect their habitats and control their population. He wanted to hunt last year and in true Loftin-form had practiced and practiced. His name was drawn for the TWRA juvenile hunt and he was ready. The rain was ready too and the only thing that fell from the sky last year was water! 2008 is a different story and we're calling it the inaugural season. Today, Derek and Grandaddy took to the field at the invite of Aunt Ninny and Unc. He looked so old decked out in his mix-matched camo, toting gun cases, stools and coolers. My mind dashed back 19 years ago when I was doing the same and those memories flooded my thoughts. I so badly wanted him to have the same experiences, the same memories, the same love for the sport; I wanted it to be a great day in the dove field.

Hours passed and I was nervous to even call and ask. Finally, I reached Dad and asked the fateful question. Spirits were high and dove were on the ground! I asked quickly, "His dove or my and Jenny's dove?” You see another Loftin trick was that on our first few trips to the dove field, Dad would shoot right along side us and often "we" killed birds that there is no way we were able to. That was Dad for you, always encouraging us and always building our confidence. There was no doubt that he would be willing to do the same for my boy. This time though, there was no need, the birds on the ground belonged to my baby, my very big boy who has come so far from his red-rubberband-gun.

He Will See Us Through

I watched as my friend's sister buried her first-born child today. I hurt for her, I cried for her and I begged God for strength for her. As I listened to the words of the three pastors that spoke at Ricky's funeral, I reflected on the events that I had experienced since Sunday. I went back to the pain and sorrow in Terrie's voice on Sunday morning as I spoke to her minutes after hearing the news, I reflected on the shock and anger that she voiced and that echoed in Chris' words when he told me. I remember the rushed and frantic conversation we had as she hurried out the door to reach her sister Sunday afternoon when they returned home from the Lake and the painful silence that filled Terrie's house Monday afternoon. The red, swollen eyes that replaced her bright brown ones and the hurt and quiet spirit of her mother. I thought in amazement of the thousands, literally, thousands of family and friends who lined the parking lot, sidewalks and walls of Williamson Memorial on Tuesday to love on Ricky's family and say their good-byes and the hundreds more who did not even have a seat to sit in during the service today. The agony that wept from Melissa's soul was inconsolable and Ricky's despair was crippling. Matt stood so strong for his parents, supporting both of them through is own sorrow and disbelief. Then there was Precious Anna Grace who questioned “where did my Daddy go” after they closed the casket. Ricky was loved; he was deeply loved by his family, his friends, his co-workers and his community.

This is the second funeral I have attended this year for officers that have taken their own lives, both whose actions created a wake of anguish and bedlam for those who knew and loved them. I find myself searching for the answer to why and how they could reach the point that they do not realize their importance, their impact and their significance in the lives of others…others who love them, others who depend on them, others who so desperately need them and will never be able to regain their sense of completeness without them. I cannot help but think that this can only be the work of Satan himself. Only the Evil One could work his way into the mind and heart of our loved ones and friends to leave them with such feelings of futility.

My thoughts are scattered and I cannot seem to finish this as I don’t have any answers. The Bible tells us that “all things work together for the good…” (Romans 8:28) and who are we to argue with His word? We may not understand, but we aren’t supposed to always understand, we are to love and serve our Lord and each other. He will see us through.

The Weekend

My computer has been down at home and I wasn't able to update anything all weekend...completely without access to the internet. I can't even remember the last time that happened. It was kind of crazy; at some point, we had to turn the house upside down looking for a phone book - which I was amazed we still owned. There was a lot that went on in the Woodard household this weekend and looking back at it, I'm not sure how we packed it all into the weekend, good thing we had an extra day.

Thursday, Derek ran again, this time finishing 61st out of over 100 runners. He was so disappointed, but as I told him, it was 92 degrees outside, the fact that he could finish the race was a huge accomplishment. Grandaddy D was in town from Tampa to cheer him to the finish and Mimi made it there too. As he rounded the last turn and headed for the finish line Caleb yells "turn on the heat Bubba"...my thought was "if it gets any hotter, no one is going to finish" but of course, Derek stepped it up and passed several kids, one who did not appreciate Derek's NASCAR style moves and abruptly "bumped" him back a position. I think he actually ran better this time, it only took him a minute or two to catch his breath after the race instead of ten or twelve...it was success as far as I am concerned.

Friday, Grandaddy D picked Derek up for a short visit in Murfreesboro because Aunt Terrie was getting married but only after a quick trip to the shoe store for dress shoes...in a size 9. Looks like my little boy might actually grow a few inches sometime soon...he will be so excited! Caleb got some serious Mom & Dad time because Russ then left to spend the night at Mimi & Grandaddy's for a fishing trip on Saturday. Caleb loves it when he gets all of the attention. He even finagled a 9:30pm trip to Marble Slab for some ice cream...you know, the baby thing again!

Saturday, Russ fished with Grandaddy, reeling in a massive 3 ounce fish! Derek witnessed the exchanging of vows between Aunt Terrie and now Uncle, Jack. Caleb had one last splash at the rec center. I made it out of the house with no boy of any sort in tow and managed lunch and shopping with Marisa while Chris drafted yet another fantasy football team.

Sunday, we were awakened by tragic news that Ricky Headley, Jr, "little Ricky" to us, had passed away Saturday. My heart aches for my friend Terrie and her family. Please pray for them; they have been through so much. Melissa will bury her first-born tomorrow, I don't know how you even get out of bed to do that. Ricky has a 2-year old daughter, Anna Grace, who I pray will remember how she was the light of her Daddy's eye, please pray for memories of him for her as she grows up. This is a time of suffering and grief for the Headley family, please ask for God's healing touch for them.

Monday, we rose very, very early and headed into Franklin for the Franklin Classic. Derek and Chris ran the 5K and Russ and Caleb tackled the Kids Kilometer. Derek finished his 3.2 miles in 29:52 and Chris followed right behind in 29:54 each having an average time of 9:38 per mile. I'm pretty sure they are still sore today! Russ knocked out the kids kilometer in a mere 4:47 (which was 8th place by the way) and Caleb (with Derek's help) finished up in a little over 9 minutes. We might still be waiting for him if his biggest brother hadn't given him a piggy-back-ride for 100 yards. Derek is our hero, he chugged that last kilometer with Caleb after running 5 of his own! Everyone had a great time and while Chris looks really thrilled to be there in the picture above, he had a good time once it was all said and done.

After the race, there was laughter over the following conversation that has been declared my quote of the race:

C - (beginning to walk instead of run at approximately 2.5 miles) "D, run on if you want to, but I've hit my wall"
D - (immediately stopping as well)"that's okay Dad, I've hit your wall too!"

I know the secret to their record times; they are both so competitive that neither one of them wanted to let the other get a leg-up so they both ran until they couldn't function any longer!! Going into the event, Chris had the advantage on the distance (running 4 miles at least 5 days a week) and Derek had the speed (running a mile in 8:30). Russ and I were placing wagers on who would cross the finish line first (but we'll never tell who we bet on). It was great to see them coming up the street on the last leg together. It was a day they will both remember and cherish.

This Labor Day weekend brought both sorrow and joy, while we will always remember this weekend as a tragedy in the life of our friends, we will also remember the joys that our family experienced. Life is a journey through which we will encounter both, but never more than we can bear, and that's a promise!

The Shiny Sticker

As is my new school-evening routine, I head straight for the backpack and whip open his blue “beary special” folder to behold the shiny sticker, confirmation that we are still on track. Today, there is no sticker! As my heart falls completely to the floor, I remove a two page (one page, front and back) note from my dear friend, Kim. It starts out so innocent “Hey Girl”, immediately taking a negative turn to “we experienced much frustration today”. I can still feel my insides turning over and over as my heart sinks deeper and deeper into my stomach. The note, written as sweetly and delicately as possible, goes on to describe multiple episodes throughout Caleb’s day. I want to cry, I want to hide, I want to disappear, but I just keep reading. He is such a precious child, but when he is upset or frustrated, nothing is off limits. I am sickened by Kim’s gentle description of the events and at this point, I don’t even know what to say to him. Where do we go from here? It was all hours ago, which might as well be days ago to a five-year-old. So, after several deep breaths and more “help me Jesus cries”, I ask Caleb about his day. “It was fine.” What do you say to a kindergartener who thinks a two-page-note-kind-of-day was “fine”?

We talk about calling our friends names, (which by the way was the least of his offenses today) and how it makes them feel. In full Caleb-style, he turns his face from me and refuses to talk or acknowledge my presence. This is my least favorite part of being a mom. So, we’re off to the corner where “you will sit until you’re ready to talk to me about this. You are not in trouble for your day, but you are in trouble for being disrespectful to me”. I have been dealing with this for five minutes today and I’m exhausted from it. I am horrified for Kim as she got all seven hours of it! After a “short” reflecting period, Caleb “is ready to talk about it.”

He didn’t mean to call his friend a name and knows it hurt his feelings; he is so sorry. But he DID NOT kick mulch on Ms. Pantall, she is “not right” but yet she’s “not lying” to me either. The conversation goes on for what seems like eternity, but is in reality probably only about 5 minutes. We discuss all the incidents and why they cannot happen again and end on a note of “tomorrow is going to be a great day again!”

I say that to him with such surety, such a positive attitude, such determination, but I cannot help but wonder what it will really be like. I wish I could be in his little head to figure out exactly what it is that causes him to believe this is all okay. Don’t get me wrong, he isn’t out there abusing anyone or calling them really nasty names, but we’re not measuring the “level” of disrespect, its disrespect and disregard in any form that isn’t acceptable.

My sweet friend ends her summation of the day with “we will work through this and it will be okay, do not worry”. She is a blessing; I again thank God we are in her class. What would we do without her? Thank goodness she is not the faint at heart and that we have such a great partner in this journey. There is a long road ahead and success will be measured by many different milestones, but the first and foremost is hoping that tomorrow brings another shiny sticker!

What is that Stuff Falling From the Sky?

I just walked back in from an appointment and the craziest thing happened to me! There were large drops of moisture falling from the sky...WHAT IS THAT? Just wondering if anyone else has had such an experience and if they might be able to assist me in identifying the cause.

The Happy Place

Have you ever lost your happy place? How do they just slip away sometimes? Why do we tend to roll over and bask in to the gloom and doom at times? How do you get back to happy, when you loose it? How do you find that happy place again?

I packed my sweet husband up and sent him off with his friends for the weekend hoping he'll find his. We've been married almost 10 years (seriously, we're like 3 weeks shy of it so in all honesty, 10 years)...that sometimes feels like 2 and often feels like 50. Neither of those are a bad thing. Our lives are really busy and while we can usually roll along with it and keep it together, sometimes only by the seams, every once in a while, it just gets to be too much.

If you don't know, he works the mid-night shift as a patrol officer in Brentwood, "The Bubble" as we call it. While there really isn't too terrible much "excitement" in the bubble, the hours alone are more than enough to pile on a huge amount of tension and stress especially when you add on the hectic schedule that our kiddos keep. He's lucky to hit the sack by 9:00 and kids start coming in the door by 3:00 so that's 6 hours on a good day (when there's no court, no meeting, no dogs barking at the mail man, etc). I don't get too much more than that myself, but I don't spend 9 -10 hours a night in a car all by myself in the middle of the night either (this is where we ignore the gun and potential danger, for my sanity's sake). The past several weeks and possibly months have been exceptionally...how should we put it, busy, which leads to tense for sleepy parents. I had some "minor" surgery this past May which used up my vacation time for this summer so we've not had a chance to escape the chaos and catch a little downtime at all this year. So, when the opportunity for a weekend away arose, I was the first one to vote "yes" to the trip!

He'll be home sometime tomorrow, hopefully with that smile and sparkle back in is eyes. I'm not sure where his happy place is exactly, but here's hoping that it's somewhere between Spring Hill and Bristol.

The Last First Day

Today was Caleb's first day of kindergarten!! He was so excited; I was so excited...not really, but it sounded good didn't it? I was nervous; I am nervous. You're thinking to yourself "she's had two other boys head off to kindergarten, what is the big deal?" and that is the same thing I thought to myself at least a million times. The big deal is two-fold, the big deal is that this really is my baby, my last baby; I'll never walk into the doors again for the first day of kindergarten. While that is almost a relief, it's completely bittersweet. This is my baby, my sweet, sweet baby whom I love with all my heart; the one Chris tells me is my favorite...he isn't my favorite, he's my baby and unless you have one of your own, you won't understand. The baby is the one that you try to hold onto because it's the last time you'll get to do it, whatever it is. The baby is the one that you dress in "baby clothes" a little bit longer because you just aren't ready for him to grow up, he's the one that you let sleep in your bed with you even though you'd have never let the other two because they needed to "grow up". He's the baby, not the favorite.

Well, it just so happens that my baby also has some major struggles; struggles that we work hard on every day. These struggles are what make up the rest of the big deal.

I have prayed for a year, literally, for his teacher this fall. I have prayed that the Lord would carefully choose a teacher for him that would encourage him, and love him as he is, someone who would understand him, see him for who he can be and would help us in this journey. We sat on the carpet this morning listening to my third reciting of THE KISSING HAND as Ms. Pantall read aloud and I batted back the tears that are welling up in my eyes again and choked down the knot that has once again appeared in my throat as I thought of the His faithfulness. We are once again in Kim Pantall's class; Kim loves each of the children who walk in her door as if they were her very own. My baby couldn't be in better hands. I turn my thoughts back to the fact that this is my baby, my last one, my big boy, my little man. How did he get so big so fast? When exactly did this happen? I take the time to cherish this last trip to the rug on the first day of kindergarten, I thank God that we can be there, that He has blessed us with these three precious boys and again feel the flood gates begin to open. At exactly the last dry second, Kim announces that it's now time for moms and dads to give our kissing hands and say goodbye. Ask any of my kids, I'm the first one out the door. It isn't because I don't want to be there, it's because the bravery has lasted as long as it can. A quick hug and a kiss and we're on our way. Chris doesn't say anything, just reaches over to hold my hand probably in effort to seal the dam before it broke; I'm sure it had nothing to do with his own feelings (and I didn't look, because I couldn't).

In the safety of my car, I made all the necessary phone calls to let everyone know he was successfully into his first day and then spent hours doing things to keep my mind off of it. In reality, it would have been easier to spend my drive to work sobbing my eyes out and getting over it because it has hung around all day!!

I picked him up at 1:30 and he bounced right into the car. Caleb had a great day, a really great day today...maybe by next week, mom will too.

Fifty is Down-Right Fabulous!

As with every good rule, regulation and in my case, ban, a loop-hole exists. It has been located and exercised in the Woodard sports ban. It appears that cross country at Heritage Middle School requires very little parent participation. Last year, Derek wished he had tried out and this year, he remembered that desire and not only did he try out, but he made the team. My responsibility to date has been to write the check for the fee, assist in the selection of a good pair of running shoes, pick him up after practice once, set the alarm for Chris to wake up to pick him up at 3:45 for the other practices (Tuesdays and Wednesdays only) and now, cheer him on during his first meet.

I remember Marisa and I were on the cross country team for approximately 20 minutes our freshman year in high-school. That is when I realized anyone participating in this sport must have something wrong with them. Who in their right mind would willingly and happily run out onto a 1.5 mile path over and over and over again? Apparently, my son and 103 others crazy kids from Heritage, Page, Woodland and Poplar Grove. Would you believe that I couldn't find a parking place when I got there to watch him? This was the first of my awing moments. The next and most impressive being that the meet started at 4:35 and by 5:00, Derek had busted out his mile-and-a-half, claimed the 50th position, rounded out the top five for his team and we were in the car on the way home. Now, that is a time-frame I can live with!!

I might think he's crazy for willingly putting himself through such misery, but I couldn't have been more proud. It is was great that he finished in the top half and I was thrilled that he made the top 5 for his team, but nothing was better than him crossing that finish-line and being proud of himself. Way to go D; fifty is down-right fabulous!

The Energizer Bunny

You might not realize it, but you are looking at the energizer bunny here...Murry D. Reeves, aka, Grandaddy. Think about all the things that you could have seen in 91 years. How many things could have changed and how many things have come and gone in that period of time. My sweet grandaddy, known as "Chief" to my boys and my Daddy, is celebrating his 91st birthday today. The picture is actually from his 90th birthday last year when we all surprised him in Mississippi and everyone spent the weekend together. Looking at it today, only his "thickness" has changed well, that and the fact that he doesn't wear his glasses anymore because this whipper-snapper had eye surgery about 6 weeks ago and doesn't need them any more. Can you imagine?

I ran by this morning to see Grandaddy and drop off the official birthday card and cupcake and found him working in the yard sporting his famous brown leather shoes, tan socks (up to his knees of course), khaki shorts and white undershirt...the cutest thing in the world I tell you! He doesn't move as fast as he used to, but he's not missing a step or cancelling any "dates". Mom called today to take him to lunch and of course, he was already booked; she had to settle for dropping by to say hello and a bite of watermelon. This is the 91-year-old who takes the "old folks" from church to the grocery store. I think he's like the energizer bunny...he just keeps going and going and going.

There is a quote by ole Abe himself that says "Its not the number of years in your life, but the life in your years that counts." We'll, there's more life in these 91 years than most of us have in 91 days but I believe that once you reach these milestones, it's okay to start counting the years too.

The First 30 Minutes

As a child, I was a early riser and it was usually very easy to get out of bed and start my day regardless of the time that I finished the prior day. My dad's alarm would go off downstairs and I'd be awake waiting to hear him call me or I might be walking downstairs already. This of course wasn't every morning, but the standard. A far cry from my dear sister who would never get up and often had to be drug out of bed and then serenaded by my mother's specially composed song "Put a Smile on Your Face". She is probably shuttering at the mere words, but the words alone don't do it justice. The shrill and the accent and the pronunciation and the lack of melodic sound...there is no real way for me to demonstrate it for you and honestly, you'd rather not hear it. It was, by far, the most horrific song ever written. I shiver at the thought of it today and it was never belted (and that is how it is performed) my direction.

I go into all of this not to bash my sister's inability to remove herself from her covers as a child or my mother's lyrical abilities, but because I've been reminded of all those childhood mornings this entire week as we've tried to get back into the routine from summer break.

Chris is at work when the alarms start going off at the Woodard house so he is completely unaware of the chaos that ensues when the dawn rings in. That screeching from my blackberry begins at 5:30, I remember it sounding so cheerful when I picked it for the alarm. By 5:45, I'm stumbling over sleeping dogs and tripping over the darting cat (who is wailing at me to feed her) to get to Derek to bring him back from the depths of his comatose sleep (and I promise, he is comatose). Usually, he will get up, but there are mornings that he needs a little extra encouragement. After a "quick" shower, I'm back to tripping over dogs to relive the episodes of the Loftin household as I try and get Russell B to join us. I must admit that on rare occasion, I’ve had to use the song. That child loves his sleep! Caleb will either come to the party on his own, or we'll dress him in his sleep (remember, kindergarten has yet to begin for him so he's still safe) and plop him in the car on our way out the door.

At this point the full-fledge-mad-dash is on and it's a free-for-all..."Don't forget to brush your teeth...wait, did you eat anything?", "Mom, do you know where any socks are?" "Derek, there is deodorant in your drawer for a reason and it isn't just so you can look at it", "Lunches are in the fridge", "Don't forget I've got practice today after school, pick me up at 3:45.", "Did we sign everything that needed to be signed?" "Russ, take the dogs out", "Have you seen my blue shoes?" "When you get home this afternoon, you had better clean your room"...and the list goes on and on and on, but you totally get the idea. It is 55 minutes of pure and total chaos. Maybe we should try to begin this regimen earlier, but seriously, 5:00 is just too early for me and that's all there is too it. By 6:35 Derek is on his way to the bus and we're getting in the car...us, the lunch boxes, the back-packs, the occasional breakfast-on-the-go and hopefully, our sanity. This is when it all runs well...when it doesn't, it isn't pleasant for any of us. The mornings that it isn’t pleasant is honestly the point of this entire entry.

Dale Thomas, www.winnersbychoice.com, shared some incredible insight with me today and I'm passing it along to you because it could possibly change all of our lives. She said "everything that goes into your mind in the first thirty minutes of your day determines the outlook and productivity of the entire rest of your day"! That is astounding...imagine what we could empower our children with as they begin their day, imagine what we could do differently if we began our day better? I look back in horror at the things that have been said in our house on those "not-so-perfect-mornings"...we were all doomed from the get-go. So, I'm challenging you to party it up in the morning...turn the radio up loud, dance and sing, get excited about your day and what it's going bring. Claim the day in the Lord's honor and make it great...make it great in the first 30 minutes!

Speline

Spelling tests, just the sound of the words sends chills up and down my spine and causes a knot in my stomach...and at this point, they aren't even my spelling tests!! The only thing that could be worse is if you said "Spelling Bee"...you know, public humiliation.

Russ has graduated into the third grade and today, he walks in the door with 30 spelling words for this week...yep, you heard me, THIRTY (just so you know I didn't mis-type the numbers) spelling words. Please know that this is the same sweet child who wrote "speline folder" in huge black letters on the outside of his spelling notebook last year...I'm thinking that our work has been cut out for us and we're just now on day one of the first full week of school. OH MY GOODNESS (just so you know, anytime you might see OMG on my blog, it is GOODNESS...please read it appropriately)...what will we do? Now for the positive side of things, these thirty words were given as a pre-test today and my precious, loving, math-oriented child spelled 7 of them correctly...well, at least we've gotten that list down to 21 for the week!! So, when you close your eyes to pray tonight, or even as you're reading this, drop an extra request in for the Woodard's we have 21 words to learn to spell before Friday!!!

The Hard Stuff

Baseball (that's my crutch anyway) kept us gone all summer long...well, since March actually, and since the sports-ban, I had the perfect opportunity to get everyone up and out this morning and right on over to TSC...it was breathtaking just to walk in the door and be home again. The famaliar marathon of praise music came to and end and the man took to the podium. I love to hear Tom McCoy preach; he is so honest and so real and...when he "gets to preachin", he might just end up right in your face with something. Of course, I'm fearing the worst of this because I don't need anyone's help knowing that we haven't been where we needed to be and the guilt each morning as we headed out to the ballfield has been enough that even Goliath himself with all his "cubits" and "shekels" would have stuggled to carry it. The screen pops up; "Courage" is the topic for the day...and I can breathe a little easier; I can probably avoid direct persecution besides, how many times have we heard the story of David and Goliath? I mean my five year old can repeat it with all the important details. That's the thing about Tom, he's the slippery, sneaky type and the Lord will use him to get you ...especially when you're not expecting it. And so He does and I know it's coming and there's not one dang thing I can do about it...no where to run (like you can out run the Holy Spirit) nowhere to hide...it all boils down to "the hard stuff"...the "hard stuff" in my life begins at home and follows me to the office where it gets even harder. The hard stuff is dragging my butt up out of bed to take my boys to church while Chris is working and being there in that pew when Tom calls for the spouse and families to pray together and I sit there without mine, the hard stuff is battling the demons that my fourteen-year-old faces between two fathers-the one who should love him and the one who does, the negativity that comes home from a shift on the streets dealing with other people's problems and the stress that I bring home from an office that is struggling to find it's balance. The harder stuff is standing up to all of that and saying you know what, it just isn't going to be this way any longer. But I get it, I know when I've been told and directed, I know when it's time to act. So, if you happen to find a smooth round stone flying towards you, it is, as my favorite pastor might say, "in the name of the Lord" and it's just me dealing with "the hard stuff".

Not a TOTAL Sports-ban

So, I'm at the computer and from here, I can hear all of my boys piled up in my bed "talking football"...all four of them. Who's good, who's overrated, who's their favorite, who needs to hit who, who just missed what tackle, who's on their fantasy team (yes, they all have one)... ultimately, they are cheering on their Titans. So, I might have banned sports, but who could possibly ban this great dad and son time? These are the moments that the sports-ban is all about...these are the moments that are an answered prayer. These are the moments that you thank God for (even if I can't be in on them).

The Test of Time

My grandparents have been married a million years today…well, actually 62, but in today’s world 62 might as well be a million!!

There is nothing sweeter than these two people and their love for each other and their family. My Goggie reminds me all of the time how proud they are of their “brood” as she calls us and how they marvel at its size (as pictured above, not that we’re really all that big). Goggie and Grandaddy have two girls, my mom and my aunt. Each of them has two children, which then spreads into my mom’s two son-in-laws and three grandchildren. Grandaddy talks about how it was just the two of them and now, we’re a whopping 16 members strong. Getting us all together isn’t always easy and actually sometimes its Christmas (literally) before you can close one door behind all of us, but oh the good times we have when you get it done! The photo is from Grandaddy's surprise 90th birthday last year...just a reminder of the good times that happen when the Reeves all come town!

The foundation of all of our family lies within these two people, not to short any other of my family members, but the love and faith of these to individuals has spurred the rest of us through many, many years and has crossed the boundaries that others would never even approach. They are always there loving each of us even when we are all tied up in the business of our own lives.

Chris and I have been married 10 years next month and I know the things that we’ve faced and survived...sometimes only by the “skin of our teeth” as they say; I cannot even imagine what 52 more years will bring, but I know for sure that there isn’t anything but the Lord Himself calling one of them home that will ever come between these two. They are a shinning example of love and faithfulness. I’m sure that they could both share some ugly stories if we really pushed them, but you’ll never hear those from either of them. What you would hear is that their Lord is the reason they have made it and He is answer; He is the answer to standing the test of time.

Less is More

So, when my sister reads this, she's going to say something really, really ugly to me since I've dogged her for her new-found obsession with blogging. I personally have no idea what this is all about, but it seems to be the new way to communicate with...well, everyone. And, since I don't really ever find time to sit down with my friends for a long chat, I thought to myself "we'll just see how this goes."

This could be perfect since I don't ever seem to have time to catch up with everyone else. Maybe, some of you will get on board too and then, I'll know what's going on in each of your lives as well.

Anyway, I don't really have any idea what to say or not to say, so beware, you might learn things that you'd rather not know...I am prone to over share and am apologizing in advance.

I guess we'll just start with the present and that I am finding such joy in the calmness of our life right now which is comical because it's not really calm at all, just so much calmer than usual. Derek is 8th grade this year at HMS and is going through all of those really nasty "14-year old" issues, but he's still such a great kid. Russ is nervous about his 3rd grade year at CRES, but Derek keeps telling him how great he'll do. I remember my third grade year; it was terrifying (and I was a really good student) and 3rd grade is the only year that has been hard for Derek so I'm not really looking forward to Russ's 3rd grade experience either, but you'll never hear me tell him that! Caleb starts kindergarten on the 25th and that will be a whole other post! The craziness comes in with all the friends, homework, household chores, LAUNDRY (and yes, it gets it's own listing), try-outs, reading logs (again, it's own category) and the new found past-time at our house "running". Maybe we shouldn't really call it running, but other than Russ, we're really non-runners, so anything above a casual meander, is classified as running. This new time-consuming-activity is all Chris's fault so we'll just blame him!

Back to the good part though, the calmness...oh, the calmness (is that a word?). After we finished our one-millionth baseball game this summer (late July), I declared a total ban on all sports for the fall. You have to know that this has NEVER happened at our house. Since Chris and I got married, he has played softball (usually on at least two teams and on rare occasion, three). For several seasons, I played with him. Then, Derek started playing and now we've progressed into having all three of the boys playing ball. There's always baseball and basketball, sometimes hockey and we've tried soccer. As if their three schedules weren't enough, we're insane enough to allow the older two to sometimes play on multiple teams ie: Derek played school ball and rec ball during baseball season this year, Russ played hockey and travel baseball this spring. You don't even have to voice what is going through your head; I realize that it is completely self-inflicted misery. Thus, the sports-ban this fall. IT IS WONDERFUL!! Since July 20th, I have not rushed home from work to rush into "divide and conquer mode" to get anyone to any practice of any sort. We've hung out at the pool (all five of us together...another rarity), we've taken a quick trip to Point-Mallard, we've eaten dinner at the dining room table TOGETHER, Caleb learned to swim, Derek learned to turn a flip off the diving board and Russ remembered how much he loved to ride his bike. It is absolutely a blessing. Still completely crazy, but so calm at the same time.

I still don't get in bed any earlier and I'm just as tired, but it's a good tired now, not just exhaustion. I thank God that we've found time to be together again...or maybe for the first time. Thankful that He has shown me that less really is more sometimes.