Because I can’t find the right section in Hallmark…

I didn’t buy any Mother’s Day cards this year.  I suck.  I went down the aisle and got all choked up when I realized this was the first year of my life that I didn't have a grandma to send a Mother's Day card to and decided I would go back later and then it was Saturday and that just wasn't going to work.

I used to always have cards bought and mailed at least a week before the holiday.  Even the seemingly cardless holidays like St. Patty’s Day and Halloween and National Hot Dog Day.  I was a card sending fool.  Then I had another kid.  Then I had another one after that one.  And then I got a cell phone and a laptop and a Facebook and it suddenly became much easier to procrastinate until the eleventh hour and so I have fallen victim to the way of the new millennium. 

So here I sit, with one mom up the road, one Ma in Alaska, a mother-in-law two hours away and two grandmas in heaven, one of which is a recent inductee, thinking about mothers and the contributions of them on my life.  And they don't exactly have that section in Hallmark.

My mom is Rebecca Jane Neal Stover Redman, also known as Becky, or to me, Mama.  I could sugar coat this and tell you that we had this beautiful, magical life together for my first eighteen years, but that would be a lie.  We didn’t.  We fought like cats and dogs and we bumped heads at every turn.  You will never catch me saying that she didn’t (and doesn’t) love me though.  She and my dad also had their fair share of head butting.  It wasn’t the most harmonious marriage to say the least.  I retreated to my room quite often and found my outlet in paper and pen.  Given different circumstances, who knows if I would’ve found writing down my crazy thoughts so necessary?  I’ve tried to explain my “need” to write to some of my non-writing friends and they don’t get it.  Sometimes when I feel something (good, bad, or ugly) I HAVE to write.  Sometimes I feel like I can’t catch my breath until I write.  It’s way down in me.  And maybe if I had a perfectly harmonious childhood, I would’ve never thought to seek refuge in my journal.  My mom was silly also.  I’m pretty sure I inherited a little silliness.  My mom always made time to go see and do for those in need.  She volunteered at nursing homes and was constantly taking food to shut ins.  She had (and still does) a heart for the elderly.  When my Momaw Stover was ill in the nursing home, she would go down and visit her as frequently as any of the rest of the family.  I saw something not long ago that said, “Just because someone doesn’t love you the way you want them to love you doesn’t mean they don’t love you with all they have.”  She loves me with all she has.  No doubt about that.

My mom’s mom was Kathleen Eileen Knight Neal.  Momaw Neal to me.  She was a sweet, loving woman.  She had four children and four grandchildren.  I remember going and staying with her when I was a kid.  She was a widow and she could drive, unlike my other grandmother.  She would drive to the post office down the road in Pratt and right before the post office was a railroad track.  I can remember the arms coming down to indicate the train was coming and my Momaw saying that train was was down the track and she wasn’t waiting and she would just zigzag right through those arms.  I guess I got my danger and bad driving from her.  Ha!  She had a heart of gold and would do anything for anybody.  

My dad’s mom was Thelma Mae Settle Stover.  Aka, Momaw Stover.  If you know me, you will know what she meant to me.  If you’re some random person in Ukraine who stumbled on my blog, I will need to explain.  My Momaw held my heart.  At the top of the extremely long list of contributions was her time.  She talked to me, she played with me when I was a child, she constantly prayed for me and she listened to me.  REALLY listened to me…like nobody in my life has ever listened.  She was quiet and just listened.  She didn’t listen and interrupt and try to give me advice.  She listened purely and genuinely and as much with her heart as her ears.  If I asked her for advice, she would offer it and usually she was right.  And by usually, I mean always.  She always encouraged me to do the right things.  She was so selfless and I admired that so very much.  She bragged on me like grandmothers do, even though I certainly wasn’t worthy of all of her praise.  When she was ill in the nursing home, people used to tell me how lucky SHE was to have ME.  I used to think…If they only knew how I was the lucky one.  There was no other place that I would’ve been than by her side.  She devoted her entire life to being by mine.  This year she gets to spend Mother’s Day with HER mom though and that’s pretty awesome for her.

My mother-in-law is Brenda Starr Pruitt Griffith.  She has been in my life since 1996.  She has always been there for me when I needed her and unlike the textbook mother-in-law, she butts out when we don’t need her :)  When anything comes up suddenly, we know she is just a phone call away and will be at our side as soon as she can hop in the car and get here.  I remember her coming and staying with us after third-born entered the world and it was such a blessing to me.  She helped me with the other children so I could take care of my new baby.  She cooked and cleaned and I remember crying when she left because I didn’t know how I would’ve done it without her andn I wasn't sure how I was going to do it when she left.  She was with us during and after the infamous derecho and taught me how to brew coffee without a coffeemaker and quite possibly saved my life and the lives of my family members who I may have killed if I went much longer without coffee.

And last but not least is Frances "Rose" Faulker Gasparetti, or "Ma."  I have Faulker in me.  Maybe it was destiny that I would love to write.  She’s the woman who carried me for nine months and gave birth to me and held me and sobbed and then handed me over to my mom and dad.  I found Rose last year after a lifetime of wondering who my birth mother was.  It was an amazing journey and has continued to be an amazing journey as we learn more and more about each other.  We have so many similarities and it’s so much fun when we discover something and one of us says, “Oh my gosh!  Me toooo!”  Rose taught me about selflessness and sacrifices.  Finding her has given me a sense of confidence that I have lacked my entire life.  She came to visit a year ago and we gathered with my friends and family and I will never forget the words of my best friend the following day.  She said, “You should’ve seen you.  I have never seen you shine with such happiness and confidence.” 

Happy Mother’s Day to ALL of the MANY women in my life who have helped shape me and nurture me and love me!  It really does take a village.

~Until next time,

Lightning Bug

But What If We Get Lost?

Around 10:30 this morning, I started making sandwiches.  The sun was shining, I was feeling wonderful and I was in the mood for an adventure.  I packed a half of a bag of Wavy Lays, a bag of apple slices AND by some STRANGE stroke of luck, I found the ingredients for Griffith s’mores—cinnamon graham crackers, marshmallow cream and chocolate chips.  Bam.  Picnic packed. 

Husband and daughter kept asking “Where are we going?”  I kept replying “On a picnic, sillies!”  Of course that wasn’t satisfying their controlling natures that yearned to know the specific location we were heading on this spur of the moment picnic, but I made them sweat it out.  Well…because even I didn’t know at this point where we were heading!  I just knew the sun was shining and it was an awesome day for an adventure.

I told husband to get on the interstate and we headed west.  Got off at Harts Run and headed to the Greenbrier State Forest.  There’s not much there—just a bunch of picnic areas and a rickety old metal slide and some trails. 

We arrived and we set up our picnic, despite the horrible wind that plagued our visit.  

We slammed down our lunch and then 

took a few slides down the rickety old metal slide.  

We proceeded to explore and found this really cool fire pit that had tons of seating around it.  Husband said we should have church over there.  Natalie said that’s what the fire pit at Camp Overlook looked like.  Wyatt wanted to build a fire.  We pressed on looking for trails. 

One way we went started off looking like a trail, but we then figured out it wasn’t, so we turned back.  Finally, we stumbled on an actual trail.  It was marked with little flags which is really cool for the directionally challenged, such as ourselves.  We came to a crossroad where we could go left, right or up the mountain.  I wanted to go up the mountain, but husband said he wanted to walk parallel to the road for some unknown reason, so we went right (**remember this part, it’s important!)  After I told them that I heard snakes had already been seen in the last week or so, they decided to pick up a walking stick.  Husband picked up a stick and after about ten feet of walking, the dead branch broke in half.  Now we had two sticks.  WINNING!  We continued on the trail and that took us all of about 50 yards until we came upon a picnic shelter.  Husband looked up towards the empty picnic shelter and started channeling his inner ancient native warrior and began, “We are from Camp Fire Pit to the north.  We come in peace.”  Of course, extreme laughter erupted from behind him as he continued the Native American bit.  THEN, as if “Chief LOL” was literally smiling down on us, I looked down on the trail below and there was a dream catcher laying on the ground.  

Really?  What are the odds of your husband acting like an Indian and then looking down at that exact moment and finding a dream catcher?  We put the dream catcher on third born’s walking stick and declared him “Dances with Dream Catcher” and he promptly replied that he wished to be called “Chief Dream Catcher.”  And so it was.

Chief Dream Catcher and the rest of us loaded up in the native Chrysler Town and Country and decided to drive on through the park.  We came to the end and we continued on to look for wildlife.  The road was windy and narrow and once we came to an intersection, husband asked if we wanted to take a chance and go on or if we wanted to turn around and go back. 

Of course I wanted to keep going.  I’m the spontaneous, fly by the seat of my pants member of the family.  My first date with him began normal enough-- with flowers and dinner and when we left dinner, I said, “Let’s drive south.”  First sign I saw said Bristol.  I said, “Let’s go to Bristol.”  Before we made it to Bristol, I saw a sign that said Knoxville.  I said, “Let’s go to Knoxville.  About 3 am, all those eighteen years ago, we arrived in Pigeon Forge.  And the rest is history, as they say.

Chief Dream Catcher worries a lot about things an eight year old Indian Chief really shouldn’t worry about.  We’ve always thought he was wise beyond his years.  Perhaps with that gift also come the negatives of an old soul.  Chief Dream Catcher has to make sure all the doors are locked before bed.  He worries about school and his friends and his family and just about everything you can imagine.  And some that you can't.  His heart is pure gold but I worry about him worrying so much.  Husband has also noticed it in the last couple of weeks.  Probably because I told him.  And then told him it’s all his fault that the Chief worries excessively.  I mean, sometimes you just have to call a spade a spade.

When we came to that intersection, Chief Dream Catcher said “But what if we get lost?  Let’s just go back.  We shouldn’t take any chances.”  Husband turned the vehicle around and we headed back the way we had come.  I looked at husband and it was as if something finally clicked and he knew exactly what I was thinking.  At that moment, he wheeled the van back around and assured the Chief that sometimes we DO need to take chances and since we have a full tank of gas and the van is in tip top shape, we would be just fine.  And even if we did get lost…well so what?  We’d figure it out.

We went over the mountain and through the woods, skimmed Monroe County, WV, saw Tuckahoe Lake and made it safely back to White Sulphur Springs, despite having no idea where we were 99% of the time.

Some things work better with a plan and a schedule.  Sometimes you have to light a match to the plan and just take a chance though.  Sometimes they’re small chances like whether to continue a Sunday drive and sometimes they’re huge life changing, courageous chances. 

Hopefully the Chief will remember that lesson.  

And hopefully the rest of us will too.

Until next time,

Lightning Bug