Oh Brother.... Part Two

My sister, Jill Thompson is guest blogging. Her subject, same as me - our brother Tim. I shared the big sister's perspective. Now enjoy this one from the little sister. cr

 Oh Brother (Part 2)

     My sister is a writer. She is a really good writer. She’s been writing amazing poems for years. My favorite was one she wrote and read to me on my wedding day, nearly 14 years ago. She has also authored several books and has her own “writer’s blog”. She recently posted a blog titled, “Oh, Brother…” If I were asked to pick which blog is my favorite, this one is it. She described my brother and many memories they shared while growing up. Several of the instances she mentioned brought back clear and vivid memories, while others surprised me and some things I didn’t know at all. I realized that the two of them have a relationship of their own. While I share that relationship, I have my own different relationship with each of them. Of course, since my sister is the oldest and I’m the youngest – it creates a very different perspective. This has prompted me to write my own “Oh, Brother…” blog. Because my sister is a writer, and I’m not, I hope she will forgive me for a bit of plagiarism.
      I’ve heard of sibling rivalry. I’ve experienced it. Because my brother is over four years older than me, we weren’t exactly rivals. He had all those years of experience before I came along. He had practiced “pestering” my older sister for years – and I was often targeted with teasing and fighting too. He told me there was no such thing as Santa Claus. He laughed at my hairy legs. He teased me the first time I wore panty hose. He told me my cat was trapped in a can – which actually filled my face with green smoke when I tore it open. Worst of all he’d sometimes say I was adopted. Of course I dished it out too. After all, I learned by watching him and my sister “fight”. I snickered at him while he got ready for dates. I snooped in his closet and his room. I busted him in the face. I’m sure if I asked him, he could recall many more things. Fonder memories include the times when he was my savior. At an age where I was a gangly girl, a couple of boys decided to pick on me and another girl, by splattering us with pieces of watermelon. Once my brother learned what happened, those bullies found themselves covered with sticky watermelon splats! He also often broke my show steers to lead, and took the bulk of load when it came to taking care of the livestock. Of course that gave him the right to name his 4-H pigs after me too. As I started an inventory of memories for writing this blog, what actually struck me most weren’t the times we fought or even the times of sentiment. The countless memories dropped into the list are the things he taught me, and the times he championed me. He spent countless hours with me in the back yard pitching softballs or helping me shoot free throws. He quizzed me on my multiplication tables so that I was the first one in my class to the top of the rocket. When I started tennis lessons, he took me to the courts for practice – even when he’d been working 70 hours a week during wheat harvest. He is the one responsible for instilling a competitive drive in me. His example and his pep talks are what has helped me continue to set goals and have the confidence to meet them. Of course all those years growing up with my brother do have sentiment. “Crashing” with him on the divan while we watched television – often MASH episodes - is one of the fondest thoughts that comes to mind. Of course it wasn’t long before we’d be arguing about who should get up to change the channels. It was also my big brother who bought me one of my all-time most treasured Christmas presents – a pair of Calvin Klein jeans – when I was at that awkward age of fourteen. In my sister’s blog, she wrote that nowadays, we don’t fight anymore. I guess my brother and I have been known to continue to fight, but it doesn’t have the heat it once did. My brother is still one of the first I call with good news and he is still one of my biggest supporters. His influence made me strong and made me tough. How could I not be tough? After all, he must have football-tackled me nearly two thousand times through the years.(Not to mention the karate move that gave me a concussion)

Oh Brother...

Anyone heard of a thing called sibling rivalry? Anyone experienced it? It’s an amazing thing. My brother and I are just short of three years apart (I’m oldest). We grew up fighting each other and playing together and barely understanding the difference. I don’t remember being the only child before he was born. My earliest memories include him. He has always been there and been a part of my life. Sometimes it was a wonderful blessing. At others it seemed more of a necessary evil. At any rate, I can’t imagine what my childhood would have been like without my brother. He read my diaries. He stole my forts. He spied into the bathroom through a keyhole. He cheated at board games. He laughed at me when I exercised with Jack Lalane. He told my sister what I got her for Christmas. I could go on. And on. But it wasn’t always him that did the torturing. I stuck a pin in his boxing bag and deflated it. On car trips I made him sleep on the ledge under the back window so I could sleep on the seat. I blamed him for stuff he didn’t do. I guess he forgave me. I hope so anyway. He did a lot of nice things for me too. He did my animal chores every morning when I didn’t like to wake up. We had vacation clubs in the barn attic. We made tents on his bunk beds. We built trains out of bikes, trikes and wagons. I did a few nice things for him on occasion. I quizzed him on football cards. I bought Valentine’s Day flowers for his girlfriend. Once I even cleaned out his toy box so I could find all the change inside from his broken piggy bank. That’s all I can remember. And then there were the “embarrassments.” Like going on a double date together with another brother/sister pair. Or when I was a senior, he a freshman, and kids in our high school kept getting us mixed up. We looked alike, I guess. Horrors! Oh and the stuff we know about each other! Cactus needles in the behind. Hugging trees on the top of KT. Having a wreck on prom night. Rampart Range Road. Dents in the ceiling. Spying in the basement. This list could be dangerous so I’ll quit there. Nowdays we don’t fight anymore – not much anyway. I have a sweet sister-in-law, two awesome nephews and an adorable niece because of him. He doesn’t mind being my facebook friend and we celebrate his birthday every Christmas Eve. Funny thing, though. He’s given up on trying to catch me in age. He used to think he could do that. Now he doesn’t even want to. We watch K-State sports, we enjoy thinking “Nobody ever tells me anything” about each other and we can still get excited about remembering stuff from a long time ago. Stuff like Daniel Boone on TV. The commercial game. POAs on the Christmas tree. The county fair. Filling the sugar bowl with salt. Long walks to the archery range. Collecting pop bottles on the river bank. Picking and trading a boxful of fireworks. Drinking pop at Grandma’s. Zitting horses. Major Astro. Santa and Toy Boy zooming around the big wide world. Being banned from calling each other anything that ends in “head” or “hole”. (Yes – that really happened!) What would life be like without a brother? Glad I never had to find out. I have a sister too. But that’s another blog. Proverbs 17:17

Books and Movies and Games… Oh My!

My husband and I have begun the heart-wrenching task of going through Randon’s things and deciding how to best dispose of them. Our thought is to clean out the room that was his most of his 24 years and convert it to a guest bedroom so that our other kids have a place to sleep when they visit other than the living room floor. I knew this would not be an easy undertaking but never could I have imagined just how difficult it would be. Not only is the sheer volume of things a bit daunting, but the idea of giving away, or worse – throwing away, the things that meant so much to Randon has proved to be overwhelming. There were many things in life Randon could not enjoy or participate in like most of us do. Because of that his family, (okay, in particular his mother) tended to indulge in the things he could enjoy and appreciate. I’ll begin with his book collection. Randon loved to read. His favorite was mysteries but he read most anything. He owned whole series such as Boxcar Children, Young Classics, Little House books, Rose Wilder books, Nancy Drew, Hardy Boys and perhaps his most favorite of all, Hank the Cowdog. He also had all 39 books in the Trixie Belden series that his Aunt Jill loaned to him. He dearly loved Trixie books. But now what? I’m sure Randon would be disappointed in me if I simply left all his books to collect dust on shelves in his room, never to be enjoyed again. This one was easy. We boxed up books of all sorts and donated them to the school library in Randon’s name. The library was kind enough to not only accept our donation, but is in the process of setting up a special display of Randon’s Hank the Cowdog books and other memorabilia complete with a plaque commemorating the gift. Thank you, Jennifer and everyone involved in this project! You can’t possibly know what this means to our family. Books now settled into new shelves with many potential readers to treasure them, my focus shifted to the movies. I don’t know if Randon loved movies more than books or the other way around, but however it worked, movies were a huge part of his life. And, as with books, he didn’t just enjoy them once but multiple times. And he never gave any of them up or grew out of them. He loved them all. Once again, the school to my rescue. I learned that I could give all G-rated movies to the school for use in classrooms and the library. My sweet friend Tammy offered to set up the “BlockBuster” outlet in her classroom and I proceeded to go through the movies to find the “Gs”. After holding a few out to be donated to the church, I ended up with 277 movies for Tammy to distribute. Again, children can now continue to enjoy Randon’s treasures as he would have wished. So now, here I am on my blog appealing to my friends for your continued help. I have just as many or more PG movies that still need a home, perhaps a few PG13s. I have piles of board games, some never taken from the plastic wrappings. I have miscellaneous toys, tricks (which he dearly loved), bags, stuffed animals and puzzle books. I have very high quality specially ordered clothing in sizes 4x-5x that someone would surely find quite valuable, but I don’t know who that someone is. Some of it has never been worn. I know in my heart that Randon would have given anything he had to whomever he thought might need it, regardless of how much he treasured it. I need to find those recipients of these gifts. His possessions mean too much to me to take them to the Goodwill store to be used by someone who didn’t even know Randon. This is much more important to me than disposing of things I don’t need or want. It’s about sharing Randon’s life and loves with the people he cared about. Please contact me if you know someone who might be thrilled to have something from this list. I would be thrilled to give it to them. I have my memories of Randon that will live in my heart as long as I walk this earth. I know Randon would be pleased to know his possessions were bringing usefulness and joy to others. And Ty & Rachel would most certainly appreciate the spare bedroom.

You've probably seen this quiz before. Its the Charles Schultz philosphy of life and it does us all good to see it again. You can even cheat and look up the answers if you want. 1. Name the five wealthiest people in the world. 2. Name the last five Heisman trophy winners. 3. Name the last five winners of the Miss America pageant. 4 Name ten people who have won the Nobel or Pulitzer Prize. 5. Name the last half dozen Academy Award winners for best actor and actress. 6. Name the last decade's worth of World Series winners. How did you do? The point is, none of us remember the headliners of yesterday. These are no second-rate achievers. They are the best in their fields. But the applause dies.. Awards tarnish.. Achievements are forgotten. Accolades and certificates are buried with their owners. Here's another quiz. See how you do on this one: 1. List a few teachers who aided your journey through school. 2. Name three friends who have helped you through a difficult time. 3. Name five people who have taught you something worthwhile. 4. Think of a few people who have made you feel appreciated and special. 5. Think of five people you enjoy spending time with. Easier? The lesson: The people who make a difference in your life are not the ones with the Most credentials, the most money...or the most awards. They simply are the ones who care the most. My addition to Charles Schultz' words of wisdom: Be the answer to the second quiz in someone's life. Be the one who cares the most.

Waiting

Charles Stanley said "Our willingness to wait reveals the value we place on the object we're waiting for."
How hard is it to wait? Depends what we're waiting for. As humans we innately feel we need to do something to 'push things along.' Just sitting back and truly waiting is not in our nature.
My cousin Brenda's baby son is now up to about two and a half pounds. He was born six weeks ago weighing 1 lb 6 oz after Brenda developed HELLP syndrome 6 months into her pregnancy. I know what she is waiting for - the day Gavin is big enough and healthy enough to come home.
My son offered to loan me his copies of the Hunger Games as I must be the last person in America to read them. He brings me book #1 and I devour it. Now I have to wait until another friend he has loaned the books to finishes #2 and #3. It is so tempting to just buy my own. Nope, I'll just wait.
In January I entered one of my books (actually just the first 15 pages of it) into a thing called the Genesis contest through American Christian Fiction Writers. It is a truly wonderful contest as the entries all receive individual critiques from multi-published judges, a means by which we can improve our writing skills. In the midst of all that happened in my life over the last few months, I pretty much forgot about Genesis, all the while becoming more and more discouraged about my writing. I wasn't to the point of giving up yet, but I was feeling terribly sorry for myself, thinking my writing would never measure up to standards and lacking the incentive to try.
I did not semi-final (the top 20%) when Genesis results were released last week. I didn't even have a hope of such a thing so I wasn't disappointed. I only wanted to summon the courage to enter, which I did, and then use the critiques to improve. But, for some odd reason I did not receive my critiques in the timely manner many of my author friends did. For nearly a week facebook pages were filled with my friends lamenting over their scores, trying not to be discouraged by the critiques and the usual 'helpful comments.' It takes time. It's a process. Someday you'll get there. Keep trying. Just wait. a few of the people even posted their scores. Being my first year I wasn't very familiar with the scoring system which is the average of a numerical score given by 3 judges with 100 points possible from each. I was terrified by some of the scores that were shared, dipping down into the thirties and even twenties. I hadn't received my critiques and came to the conclusion that I didn't want to receive them. I knew I would never be able to handle the discouragement that would come with the low scores I most surely would receive.
So, my scores arrived today. I debated not opening the email. I finally clicked on it when I couldn't stand it anymore. I was pleasantly surprised. Very pleasantly. No, I will not share my scores here, but they were much higher than 20s or 30s and the comments were so encouraging.
Moral of this story? Waiting is hard. No way to get around it. But giving up is not an option. God always comes through in His time, which by the way, is not the same as mine. I've seen it time and again. At just the point I get so discouraged I don't know how to climb out of the hole, He sends His encouragement to counteract, tell me I'm on the right track and to keep on waiting.
I may never win a writing contest or see a book with my name on the cover, but even so I know I'm traveling the path He's set before me. My only job is "Wait."
Isaiah 64:4

Mary Magdalene First to See - First to Believe

I wrote these verses several years ago inspired by Pastor Todd's Resurrection Day sermons. Decided it was time to share along with my favorite Easter quote.
"It's Friday but Sunday is coming!"

FIRST TO SEE, FIRST TO BELIEVE

I think of Mary Magdalene
And how she must have felt
Seeing Him upon the cross
Over the place where she knelt

Hearing His cries of anguish
When they drove in the nails
Seeing only darkness before her
Where hopelessness prevails

Shattered by His misery
Her broken heart did mourn
As He endured His torment
Forsaken and forlorn

Imagine the pain and sorrow
That ripped through her very being
Unable to fully comprehend
The cruelty she was seeing

And as He suffered, bled and died
She could not contain her grief
Overwhelmed by doubt and fear
Pushing aside her steadfast belief

Blood and water gushed from His side
Darkness fell and the curtain tore
Barely able to live beneath
The sorrow that she bore

But she didn’t understand
That what she witnessed that day
Though unspeakably evil
Had washed her sins away

For by His innocent blood that spilled
The world was now covered in grace
For all who would turn from their sin
And seek His holy face

She waited out the Sabbath Day
Where fear and trembling reigned
Then hurried to His burial place
Just as soon as darkness waned

She cried tears of terrible sadness
As she came near the grave
But for the sake of the others
She tried desperately to be brave

And they could not imagine
Since they were alone
How they could reach His body
For who would move the stone?

And as they neared the place
Where her Savior was laid
The Earth did shake and tremble
And they became afraid

Then as they drew still nearer
They saw the stone was rolled away
But they found the tomb was empty
And they cried out in dismay

Then when they looked again
They were filled with amazement and fright
For angels appeared before them
Arrayed in dazzling white

They stared wide-eyed and astounded
At the startling vision
And heard them speak the joyous words
He is not here; He has risen!

They ran back to tell the others
Though they were slow to believe
But Mary knew within her heart
That she need no longer grieve

For Jesus stood before her
Proof that He was alive
And as she fell to worship Him
Her faith began to thrive

And Mary’s legacy lives today
In all who follow her creed
We serve a Risen Savior
And He is risen indeed!

Review of Deep in the Heart by Staci Stallings

What does forgiveness have to do with hurt, anger and scars from the past too ugly to be revealed? How can love wrap itself around grudges, secrets and the quest for monetary wealth until it’s the only thing that matters? Searching only for a job and a roof over her head, Maggie shows up at the door of the Ayers mansion alone, penniless and utterly dependent upon the mercy of the rich family too concerned about their own fortune to have compassion on such a thing as a human soul. How could they know that their lavish quest for worldly goods and social status is about to come crashing down around them at the selfless love and kindness of the lowly woman hired as their nanny?
Deep in the Heart is a gut-wrenching, tear-jerking story of forbidden yet undeniable romance between the one who has it all and the one who has nothing. And yet, which is which? Is it Keith, the handsome son of one of the richest men in Texas with racehorses to tend, a beautiful fiancée on his arm and a future of wealth and power at his fingertips? Or could it be Maggie, the girl with no money, no family, no home and yet possesses a heart of peace and fulfillment, brimming with love for others and for her God?
Once again, Staci reaches ‘deep in her heart’ to spill emotion onto the pages that pulls you into her story with a grasp that will not let go. Your heart will ache along with Maggie as she falls hopelessly in love with the man she can never have and along with Keith as he seeks to fill the void in his heart with things that can never satisfy. What twist of irony awaits Keith and Maggie that causes their pasts to collide with their futures in a way they never could have predicted?
Deep in the Heart is Staci Stallings at her finest. The memory of the anguish and joy poured out by her pen will remain in your heart long after the final page has been turned.