Wonderings

On Facebook today, I was perusing the photos of a newborn baby, Laikyn Reese.  She was born prematurely and she was finally released from the hospital when she was about two weeks old.  Once she'd made it home, her parents had a set of professional photos done.  One particular photo caught my eye.  It was the one wherein Adam, who was dressed in black, was holding his daughter.  Her head was in his palm and facing the camera and her body and legs were draped over his forearm.  Her little bottom was only about two inches from the crook in her Daddy’s arm. It is really a lovely photo.

Seeing it brought back a memory of my Daddy telling me that--when I was born--I was nearly that small.  He said he could hold my head in his palm and my bottom sat right there in the crook of his elbow.  When he told me that memory, he was smiling and it was clear that it was a memory which he cherished.  I also cherish the memory of him telling me of that day--greatly.

This picture is poignant to me for other reasons.  Did y’all know that I was born prematurely, also?  I was born somewhere between six and seven months gestation.  I imagine I was about maybe two weeks or so farther along than Laikyn was when she was born. I weighed six pounds.  I’m sure you can imagine how big I might have been if I’d gone to full term!

There is another ‘didja know’ in this story.  Didja know that many people in my family thought I was the child of someone other than my Daddy because of my early birth?  They believed that I was actually born between seven and eight months, thereby disallowing Daddy as my father because he was overseas in Thailand until January of 1969.  These ideas plagued me for many years.  In fact, when my mother told me that this ‘rumor’ was true, I was devastated.  I felt as if all the things that made me good in the world came from him and—if I wasn’t his child—then I was worth very little.  Of course, now I know that this idea of my worthlessness is absolutely ridiculous, but I was young and very saddened by these new ‘facts’ I’d learned.

At one point, my Mother told me that the rumors were true.  And who knows, really? It is true that I look like neither one of my parents, except that my hair is the exact color of my mother’s hair.  I was bothered by the fact that I don’t look like anyone for a long time.  Strangely enough, as the years pass, I have come to the conclusion that Mother was just telling a story—as she often did—and she started believing it.  The older I get, I see him in my forehead and--every now and then--in my face, especially on the days when I am tired.  Weird, huh? And I was teased my whole life (I can’t believe I’m telling y’all this!) with the following song—

o/’ o/’  Daddy butt, Daddy butt.  Lori’s got a Daddy butt! o/’ o/’   

Super embarrassing, I know—but it begs the question:  If he isn’t my Daddy, why did I have to endure that song for so many years?  It is true that I don’t exactly have the biggest backside you’ve ever seen, yeah?   Anyway, so there were things here and there through the years that made me wonder if Mother was wrong.   And eventually, it didn’t matter. I am Paul Ford’s daughter. I know Daddy loves me and I know he was my Daddy, no matter who donated to my DNA.

 But the thing about that picture of Laikyn—she weighed only six ounces less than I did when she was born at 34 weeks. I weighed exactly 6 pounds—or so I’ve been told.  Her backside was only inches away from Adam’s elbow and I was right there in Daddy’s elbow crook, according to him.  Why couldn’t I have been born between six and seven months, seeing as I was almost as small as Laikyn was? 

I realize this whole blog might be considered super silly by some, but I’ll tell you the truth:  I love the moments when I see Daddy in my face!  I greatly appreciate ANYTHING I see or realize that makes the idea of Daddy being my father more probable.   I know it doesn’t really matter, but—somehow—it does.  It matters that I belong to him, ya know? 

Good Memories

We had all just finished eating at the Texican Cafe. It was a Wednesday evening after Bible class. Abbey, Katie, Bryant, several of the Southwest School of Biblical Studies students and I had been together--talking, laughing, and eating. We had closed the joint down!
I walked out after everyone else did. Our large group had splintered into several smaller groups. Some of the students were standing together discussing one of the assignments that Rick had given them. Katie and Joel were talking about something and laughing. Abbey and Bryant were standing near me and the back of her heels were propped up against a cement parking bumper, making her seem a bit taller than her normally very short self. I can't remember exactly what they were discussing, but it wouldn't surprise me if it was about Harry Potter. It was clear that their conversation was riddled with the teasing and affection that accompanies close friendships.
I watched all of them for a few moments, smiling. Then, I look up at the beautiful black sky which was resplendent with twinkling stars--cos the Texican is the tiniest bit out of town. Then I looked back down at these groups of people whom I loved and whom I knew loved me in return and who were like-minded, (They love Harry Potter, each other, and God, but not necessarily in that order) and I thought, "I am the luckiest girl in the world."

Here are two of the people who often feature in my 'luckiest girl' moments.

Sur et Sous

I've been exposed to a lot of Spanish in my life because of where I have lived most of my life--Texas. I think I learned a bit of it by osmosis. In the last two years, I've been trying to learn Italian and French also. I haven't mastered either one of them yet, but I'm learning.
If you're a reader, you may remember when I discussed how easy it was to remember what "under" meant in Italian (Sotto) because--musically--that means something akin to "softer." I made some kind of mental connection between singing more quietly and being under something--like a table or a car.
So, I'm finally to this same section in French and I have found that my bit of Spanish knowledge is causing me problems. In French, 'Sur' means 'above.' In Spanish, it means 'South.' When I saw the first question using the word 'Sur' I chose the picture that had a cat sitting under a table. I was greeted with that annoying buzzing sound and a big red X across the picture of the cat under the table. Soon enough, I became aware that 'Sur' meant above or on top of something. I was baffled and--really--I still am. But what saved the day for me here in directional French was the word for 'under' which is 'sous.'
I have heard the phrase 'sous chef' previously but never really delved into the intricacy of its meanings. I opened up another page and looked up the meaning of "sous chef." It is 'Under Chef' like "I am second in command to the head guy.' So now 'under' and 'above' are cemented in my mind even though I can't quite get with the idea of 'sur' being above. Since 'sous' makes sense now, it helps 'sur' take its meaning in my head at the very least.
By the way, two asides: Didja know that 'dans' means 'inside?' and that 'chef' means head--like chief. So the the phrase 'head chef' is a little redundant! ha!

MAP OF ME

One of my recent homework assignments in counseling was to make a family tree, of sorts. My family tree is often very confusing and convoluted for those who don't live it every day. I decided to make a chart and well, I PAINTED a chart for my counselor. I don't think it is very readable in this photo I took, but it was fun to do. :)

I cannot seem...

...to rid myself of this anger I am feeling today. I had a good day but there was this underlying thread of anger over the words and tone someone used with me today. I am praying for peace over it. Will you pray, too, if you are a person who prays? I think I need all the help I can get. Thank you.

To whom it may concern at Straight Talk,

First, I'd like to say that I have been enjoying the Straight Talk service for nearly a year now. I have had very few problems with y'all. I adore my little phone with its qwerty keyboard and 3.1 MP camera and all the other fabulous features. I have a great signal even though I live in a rather small town in the middle of nowhere. I am usually ecstatically happy with my little phone. I think it is clear to see that I'm a fan. However, right now--I am severely displeased with y'all. I phoned your customer service department a few months ago requesting that I be taken off of the "text in the middle of the night informing me that my minutes have been refilled" list. That request had been filled for several months--until this morning at about 1:17 a.m. in the morning. The fact that this happened AGAIN is completely unacceptable for several reasons.

1) I requested that it stop several months ago. That fact ALONE should be the end of the matter since I'm the customer, i.e. the one who pays a portion your salary via my patronage of your services.

2) You may say that I should just turn off the phone at night so that I don't hear it. Why should I? This is the only phone I have. What is some member of my family called with an emergency in the middle of the night and my phone was turned off? I use my phone--probably like many employees of your company--to keep in contact for both normal and emergencies reasons.

3) Speaking of emergencies, do you know what it is like to be awakened at 1:17 a.m. with a "phone call?" What do YOU think of when you get a phone call in the middle of the night? Very likely you immediately think, "Oh no! What is wrong? Something must be wrong for someone to be 'calling' me in the middle of the night--aka 1:17 a.m.! Who is hurt? Who is dead?" Your heart rate rises exponentially. If you are at all prone to heart issues, strokes, or panic attacks, you might be in the danger zone in the moments immediately following one of these middle of the night Straight Talk business phone calls. Seriously folks, there should be no business phone calls from ANY business--unless there is a pre-arranged agreement between vendor and customer--between the hours of 9 p.m. and 8 a.m. Listen, my MOTHER won't call me or allow me to call her from between 9 p.m. and 9 a.m. unless it is an emergency. That is just basic, decent, common social etiquette.

4) In these "modern" times, a text message from a business is like a business phone call. I'd really like to know why in the world a business is calling and awakening me at 1:17 a.m. That is completely and totally unacceptable. It actually should be a practice that is abandoned--WHOLESALE--by Straight Talk. Not one single Straight Talk customer should be receiving business phone calls (i.e. texts) from you between the hours of 9 p.m. and 8 a.m. Once again--that is just a common and widely accepted bit of social etiquette. I am quite certain that you have--on staff somewhere--some wonderfully adorable computer nerds who have the skills necessary to write codes which requires these business calls (i.e. texts) be done ONLY during acceptable times. I know this can be done, Oh Straight Talk, cos computer nerds can do just about anything. They're like Daddies that way.

Seriously, this issue needs to be addressed--post haste--by your company. I certainly do not expect another phone call/text from y'all in the middle again FOR ANY REASON. If it happens again, I will have to very seriously consider spending my money elsewhere. I hope that y'all seriously consider making changes across the board in this practice of 'middle-of-the-night' business phone calls.

Thank you for your time. I seem to have plenty of it since I'm still WIDE AWAKE an hour after receiving your text--in the middle of the night.

Loralee

Thought on Genesis 19

I am now in the late teen chapters of Genesis in my daily reading. I was reading the story in chapter 19—you know, the one about all the adventures Lot had when he lived in Sodom and Gomorrah. I’d gotten to the part where two strangers came to visit Lot’s fair town and he invited them to stay at his home for the night. They tried to refuse him, at first, but his continued urging made them relent and they accepted his offer of hospitality.

The Book says that he fed them a great meal and just before they were getting ready to head to bed, Lot and his visitors heard a large amount of yelling coming from outside the house. It turned out that all the men of the city of Sodom, “both young and old, all the people from every quarter” (19:4) had surrounded Lot’s house and were demanding that the two visitors be sent out to them so that they could "have relations with them.” (19:5)

Now there is a lot of clamor around ‘Christendom’ as to what it was these men wanted to do with the two strangers. I’m not really going to delve into that issue; however, I can state definitively that whatever they wanted to do was sinful because Lot pleaded with them not to act “wickedly.”

As most people are wont to do, the men of Sodom did not exactly appreciate being called wicked so they pressed their case even more vehemently to the point that they were squishing Lot against his door and almost breaking it--and him!
Fortunately for poor old squished Lot, the two angel visitors were keeping and eye on things and they reached out and hauled Lot into the house, threw a curse at the wicked men--blinding them, and then quickly shut the door behind him.

What amazes me most about this story is that the men of Sodom didn’t just quit at this point. You know, “Well, let’s take stock of our situation here. Lot’s gone back into the house and shut the door. It doesn’t look like he is going to be willing to send those men out here so we can act wickedly with them, and--WE'RE BLIND! Maybe we should just crawl back the way we came.” Nope. The Text says that those men wearied themselves trying to find the door so that they could get to the two strangers.

In case ya didn’t know, ‘Weary’ is an adjective that means “physically or mentally exhausted by hard work, exertion, or strain.” Normally, I’d admire someone who had a goal and worked diligently to achieve it. This time, however, these men became weary because they were trying to be wicked. Though BLIND, they grew exhausted in striving to do something evil.

I guess I really don’t have much of a point here. I was just so amazed at how stridently these men were working to sin. It isn’t as if they were just there in a group of friends and the sin was this really simple thing to do—like putting your hand out, accepting a joint and smoking it. Nope, their actions were equivalent of trekking through 2 miles of mountains, then running through a large and dense forest at top speed for an hour from federal agents, finding the hidden garden of 'herbs', cutting them down, making the return trip home, rolling the marijuana into papers, lighting it and smoking it. Their efforts were clearly on the side of wanting to do sin so much that they put themselves in physical harm to do it. YIKES!!

It sounds terrible, doesn’t it—putting your body in physical danger in order to sin? And while I imagine none of us often go to that kind of extreme—physically--in order that we might sin, I wonder if I or you or any of us ever realize that no matter the sin we do, we are wearying out spiritual ‘body’ to the point where we will die if we don’t straighten up and fly right.

You know, I can imagine what some of those men of Sodom looked like when they went home that night. I believe that their hands and knees were probably nicked and scratched up from crawling around in the sandy and pebbled streets. I imagine that they were covered in bruises everywhere from bumping into all the other blind, wicked sinners who were crawling around with them, unable to see where they were going. I even wondered if—maybe—some of their clothes were torn cos their fellow sinners got tired of waiting or perhaps mistook them for the two angels. Just imagine walking into your home looking that way! I know one thing—I don’t want to walk into the place of Judgment looking the same.

Just a little food for thought, y’all.
Love,
ME,
Loralee 