Crazy in Love

This is dedicated to my very young friends...

When Charles and I met, we had that special "spark" right away. We met in June of 1995 on my first day at MBC, and hung out together over the summer in a big group of friends. We finally went to the movies alone in September, I think... and that was the beginning of dating. We were engaged at Christmas and married the following June in a simple church ceremony. Why the rush? It's simple... we couldn't WAIT to be married!

Now, I don't ordinarily recommend marrying so quickly. However, we were both seeking the Lord when we found each other... and we were 26 and 25 (so we had a little maturity on us); and we just knew it was right.

After becoming engaged, my goal was to plan a wedding as quickly as possible. Once we decided to get married, we couldn't wait to get started on our lives together! I was in graduate school, so the wedding had to be between quarters. June 15th gave us enough time for a honeymoon, so that was the date!

I looked forward to my wedding day; but my main wish throughout it all was to be Mrs. Charles Ellis. I wanted a church wedding, but I didn't want to go into debt for one day. A lot of frivolous items normally associated with weddings didn't really matter to me, so it was easy to cut corners.

There were only 2 things I kind of regretted at the time.

First, I borrowed my childhood friend's wedding dress... which I loved doing because I love her and was honored to wear her beautiful dress... but I felt a little twinge of regret at not having a wedding dress to pass down to my future daughters. Well, that is obviously no longer a regret because I have 3 sons. God knew I didn't need a wedding dress, and He probably prompted Deborah to offer hers!

The second thing I kind of wanted was dancing at my wedding. I chose a simple reception over dancing; and God worked that one out, too. We were surprised by how exhausted we felt after our short ceremony and reception; and were relieved we didn't still have several hours of dancing ahead of us!

I am fortunate to have a wonderful example of commitment in the legacy of both sets of my grandparents... each couple was married for 63 years. Isn't that amazing?

My mother's parents, George and Clara, married very young. After her death, we were going through their papers and I noticed her birthdate on her wedding certificate didn't match the date on her birth certificate. After looking at it a few minutes, we realized she had lied about her age to get married! We laughed and cried, imagining my Grandma at 15 wanting so badly to marry my Grandpa that they pretended she was 18! Despite their youth, 63 years.

My father's parents, Allen and Frances, also married young. They met while he was stationed at Ft. Benning, about to be deployed in World War II. They married after a whirlwind courtship, and then he went overseas and fought in Europe for over 3 years. He survived to return home to her. Again, 63 years.

What makes a wedding perfect? What makes a girl feel like a princess on her wedding day?

Perfect flowers, perfect dresses, perfect food, perfect decorations, and dancing... these are all good things. However, the girls I see screaming on TV if these things aren't just right... girls dubbed by the media as bridezillas... these girls are depending on things to make them feel like a princess... and my heart aches for what they are missing.

I have found the one whom my soul loves... Song of Solomon 3:4

I'm glad I was like my Grandma, Clara, who married the man she wanted to marry despite obstacles. I'm glad I wasn't 15 when I did it... but she lived in a different time, and that was right for her. Charles was right for me.

Marriage is hard, even for those who couldn't wait to be married. However, the advantage of marrying someone you couldn't wait to marry is this: "crazy in love" in a committed marriage turns into a comfortable love, but the "crazy" is never completely gone. It comes back every once in awhile, and it's wonderful at any age - from 15 to 89.

Wait on God. He has a plan for you, and you don't want to miss it by making your own plans!
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Crazy Hair

Wednesday was crazy hair day at AWANA. I have had 4 cans of colored hairspray (blue, red, purple, and orange) for 2 years now; and after carrying them across town in our recent move, I was looking to get rid of them. Nathan chose red, and I emptied the can on his head. Ephraim chose blue, and I used nearly all of it on his hair. Matthew said he would pass.

Two cans left: orange and purple. Hmmm... I am an AWANA leader, so I decided to show a little spirit and have crazy hair too. I tossed the orange can... frankly, I have no idea why I bought orange hairspray in the first place because NO ONE in my house would put orange on their heads. (Sorry, Auburn fans!) So, I sprayed purple hairspray all over my hair.

AWANA was fine... the kids got a kick out of my hair... I came home and finished typing a report Matthew had written for school and didn't get around to washing my hair until about 9:30. I washed my hair a couple of times and thought I had gotten it all because the water ran clear... got out of the shower and looked in the mirror...

My hair was a light shade of magenta. You know, like the dog on Blues Clues that had to get glasses back around 2001? Magenta.

I didn't panic. I had used my high-dollar shampoo that I use to keep my "low-lights" from fading. I groaned inwardly, thinking about my recently added low-lights. I knew I would lose all of my brown streaks if I used regular shampoo... but I had to get rid of the magenta. Reluctantly, I reached for the Pert and called for Charles to help me.

Charles is a good husband. He washed my hair first with the expensive stuff; a second time with Pert; and a third time with clarifying shampoo strong enough to clean your kitchen floor.

My hair was still magenta.

I decided maybe I should check the hairspray bottle for possible warnings. Aha! It said, "Warning: Do not use on bleached hair. May not wash out."

Bleached hair describes half of my head, because I have highlights. I dried my hair and surveyed the damage. It wasn't entirely bad... some girls do this kind of thing on purpose...

I no longer had blonde highlights. Instead, I had light brown hair with beautiful streaks of magenta. It looked like a professional job. Well, except for the magenta part.

By this time, it was 10:30. I was scheduled to work the next day as a substitute teacher!

Did I mention Charles is a good husband? He went to Wal-mart and scoured the hair-coloring isle and got me a nice box of brown to try and cover the magenta. He called me from his cell phone and called out names of different colors.

I asked him how "ash brown" looked on the box. This question was apparently too much. His answer was short and to the point. "Brown," he said.

I said, "All right, that sounds good, just get that one."

I got up early this morning and applied the brown coloring. It looks a lot better; now my hair is a pretty brown color with a purple hue towards the bottom.

Nathan watched my hair all the way to school. He seemed impressed by the way the purple highlights changed hues depending on the amount of sunlight entering my side of the car.

Matthew reassured me that it was nothing to be ashamed of. He said, "After all, no one ever reads the directions."

The Strong-Willed Child

Which one?

That depends.

What day is it?

Is there a child who isn't strong-willed?

Not at my house!

I bought my well-worn copy of The Strong-Willed Child by James Dobson about 10 years ago when my oldest child, Matthew, was four months old. You might be wondering how it is possible at 4 months to discern such a thing about your baby. We knew Matthew was strong-willed about 3 days after he came into the world!

However, strong-willed children can be tricky. Sometimes, they are easy-going... and because they are so pleasant and good-natured; you are completely deceived into thinking your "easy baby" is not strong-willed.

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Nathan was like this. Matthew had been very picky and made his preferences known LOUDLY from birth. On the other hand, nothing really bothered Nathan until he became a toddler and learned the word, "No." Out of nowhere, Nathan's will of steel was laid bare for all to see! Whenever Nathan made a decision, NOTHING changed his mind. He would always consider the cost (whether it be the loss of a privilege or a spanking); and he always decided getting his way was worth ANY consequence!

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Nathan never reconsidered an opinion once he had formed it until after he prayed to receive Christ at age 5. After that, the Holy Spirit changed Nathan's heart and he became a different person... still strong-willed, but more likely to make a stand for good than for anything else. Despite his age at conversion, he is one of the best examples I have ever seen of the influence of the indwelling Holy Spirit.

Ephraim was also a little tricky to discern as strong-willed. As a baby, he crumbled anytime we told him "No." I thought to myself, finally one who won't argue with me! Alas, the honeymoon has ended. Now, I never know what he is going to say when I tell him "no" or send him to time-out. Here are a few of my favorites:

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• Don't say no, Mommy! No is a bad word!
• Don't say no, Mommy! No hurts my feelings!
• I can't go to bed. It makes me sick.
• I can't eat my (healthy) food. It makes my tummy sad.
• I can't (you name it, he can't do it). I have to play with my animals.
• Daddy made a bad choice. Daddy told me no. No is a bad word!
• I can't go to time out. Time out makes me sad!
• I can't go to time-out. Mrs Linda (his teacher) said no more time-outs!

There are more, but I can't think of them at the moment.

Being strong-willed doesn't end in the toddler years. I won't go into details because I don't want to embarrass my child; but there are definitely challenges as we approach the "tweenage" years. Parenting is hard work!

My prayer is for my children to take their strong wills and use them for good, as Nathan (the prophet) did when he confronted King David about his affair with Bathsheeba and the murder of her husband. What courage the prophet Nathan had! He stood up for what was right in a postition that could have ended very badly for him.

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A perfect example of how God can use a strong-willed man for good.

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I apologize for any mispelled words and for all of the dashes (-) in this post... "spell-check" and "return" are not working properly on Blogspot at the moment, and I am finding it hard to write and edit without them! Veggie Tales is playing in the background; and somehow, I cannot concentrate well enough to find my mistakes!

A Christian Mom's Review of The Golden Compass and Philip Pullman's Trilogy

I finished reading the trilogy by Philip Pullman, His Dark Materials, several weeks ago. I wanted to take some time for reflection before blogging my review.

The first question on every parent's mind is, "Should I let my child see the movie?" This was definitely my question after receiving various email warnings from people who had not seen the movie or read the book. I decided to read the trilogy rather than see the movie; mainly because seeing The Golden Compass would segue to Matthew reading all three books, anyway. I needed to do my research.

The answer to every parent's question is, No, you should not allow your children to see The Golden Compass. The underlying premise of the story is the idea that original sin does not exist. Satan tempting Eve with the apple is depicted as a good thing; and Satan and all of the other fallen angels are painted as rebels on the side of good. God, on the other hand, is shown as the bad guy... punishing mankind for Eve eating from the tree of knowledge of good and evil. Pullman weaves his story around the idea of God as a weak-minded control freak who sucks the fun out of life with all of His rules.

Pullman doesn't address Christ at all. Well, of course he doesn't mention Jesus. How could he? Mentioning Jesus would unravel the plot.

Anyway, the three books follow the main character, Lyra, and several others as they try to determine which side is actually good (the church and God or the fallen angels and Satan). At the end of the third book, God is destroyed.

I found the trilogy entertaining in a sick kind of way; mainly because I had just finished Beth Moore's Bible study Daniel, which really digs into the prophesies concerning end times. His Dark Materials is like a fun house mirror reflection of Genesis, Daniel, and Revelation all rolled into one. It reminds me of when my children try to explain how something happened and put their own slant on it. (I didn't actually kick him, Mommy. He ran into my foot! I didn't say he was a loser to be mean, Mommy. I was talking about the time he lost when we played that board game, remember?) Through Philip Pullman's stories, I had the feeling I was listening to a rebellious, but very persuasive child, telling his side of the story. It was amazing to see how many different ways Phillip Pullman came up with to dismiss or explain away scripture.

Anyway, children shouldn't see this movie because the trilogy is headed in a direction you don't want to go. Pullman is a gifted author and convincing story-teller. I was grateful for the timing of my last Bible study. Know your scripture before reading this...

As far as explaining to my kids why we wouldn't be seeing the movie; I just told the truth, short and simple. I said, "The books depict God as the bad guy and Satan as the good guy, and in the end God is killed. It's totally unrealistic and goes completely against the Bible." They didn't seem at all interested once they knew the plot. I think it really helped, though, that I read the books before telling them we couldn't see the movie. They knew for sure that I knew what I was talking about.

It's Hard to be 4

Ephraim and I spend about an hour on the road each morning. We take his brothers to school first, and then have about 20 - 30 minutes before his preschool begins. A couple of weeks ago, Ephraim told me as we were driving that he didn't want to go to school that day. I don't let him play hooky from preschool, because I'm afraid that will set an expectation in Kindergarten that will be hard to change... so I laughed in an upbeat voice, "Ephraim! You have to go to school!"

Ephraim sighed heavily and said in a very serious voice, "It's hard to be 4."

I just love children at age 3 and 4! Despite the attitude that often accompanies the age... I just love seeing their little personalities emerge! It eases the pain of not having a baby any more to see your children just get so much more... well, interesting as they get older.

When Matthew was 3, I was still working full time. He didn't want me to go to work one day. I tried to reason with him by saying, "Matthew, I have to go to work to make money so that we can buy toys." He just cried harder, and said,"I don't want you to buy toys. I just want you to stay home with me!"

Matthew was in a Christian Daycare that year, and his teacher tried to teach the children about Jesus. I don't know exactly what she taught, but I suspect it was a bit over the children's' heads. Matthew tried to process it, but was definitely more disturbed than enlightened.
He asked me one day, "Mommy, if Jesus lives inside my heart... isn't it dark in there?"
On another occasion he asked, "If Jesus lives in my heart... what does he do when he has to go to the bathroom?"

Nathan has been a huge Spiderman fan since he was 3 years old. When he was 4, he was playing at his friend Parks' house and the two of them found a spider. Luckily, Parks' Mom Leah was close by, because she heard Nathan saying, "Oooh... I wonder if I let this spider bite me if I will be like Spiderman?" Thank goodness Leah quickly intervened!

After I picked Ephraim up from preschool today, he and I were talking about his brothers. I said something like, "You sure do love your brothers, don't you?" At first, he agreed... but then though better of it.

"Mommy!" He exclaimed indignantly. "I'm not a girl!"

Startled, I asked, "What do you mean, Ephraim? Boys love, too!"
He completely dismissed the notion. "No, they don't Mommy. Boys don't have hearts!"

An hour later, Ephraim was a little sleepy. He followed me around the kitchen very persistently. After a few minutes, I picked him up and held him close. He stayed in my arms for about 10 minutes... a very long time for a 4-year-old boy. "I love you, Ephraim," I told him.

"I love you, too, Mommy," he said quietly.

God's gift to me in the midst of Alzheimer's: One last glimpse of her

My last living grandparent, Frances Tabor, died on New Year's Day of 2007. It's hard to believe she died just this year, though; she had been gone from herself since at least the year 2000.

She was my father's mother, born the youngest of seven children in Butler, Georgia. She was a southern lady in every was imaginable... from her cooking to her southern manners... We lived about an hour apart for most of my life; so I spent a lot of time at her house.

My brother Ben and I spent many weeks during the summer at our grandparents' house. I can't remember exactly how we spent the time, except that while we were there; my grandparents REALLY paid attention to us. When I was really little, my grandmother used to play on the floor with me and all of my stuffed animals. We used to play around her coffee table and used the legs as a part of their pretend house, and she knew all of my stuffed animals' names. Later, she entertained me by answering my endless questions about the past; as well as telling me stories from her childhood. When I was a teenager, she became my shopping buddy, and we spent endless hours walking the malls. When I went to college in Athens, my grandparents helped me immensely by sending me money and visiting often; they also gave me rides when I wanted to visit home. As a young adult, my first "real" job was near Chattanooga. I was young and in a town where I knew no one; and since I worked with mental patients, work did not exactly open doors to friends my age! In my loneliness, my grandparents phoned and visited me often.

After getting married and having a baby, my grandmother and I hit the malls once again with renewed interest; now we were searching for baby boy outfits! Things should have been wonderful and perfect... but something changed within her. It was so gradual that I didn't notice it at first; but looking back, it is all very clear now.

Alzheimer's for Grandmama began with an inability to drop it when someone slighted her. We all do it... you know, someone says something rude and you think about what you wish you'd said for the next day or so... a complete waste of time, but very human. Well, she began holding onto grievances against people the way a dog chews on a bone... she just couldn't let it go. We didn't recognize this as dementia; rather, we thought she was just getting a bit cantankerous. It surfaced with everyone to some extent; and then once day exploded on me. She wanted to allow Matthew to do a number of things I didn't agree with. In hindsight, I would have done things SO DIFFERENTLY if I had any idea she was sick. However, I didn't know and just told her like I would have told anyone... that I was the mother and I would be making the decisions.

Note: Really pray about it before you take this approach with someone who is old enough to develop Alzheimer's and has developed a recent tendency to hold grudges to an extreme.

Grandmama shocked me by telling me she never wanted anything to do with me again. I still didn't know she was sick, so I had no idea where this was coming from. I tried and tried to apologize... letters and even a video tape just made it worse. She was done with me and I just couldn't believe it.

The worst part was that she had not lost any of her memory yet. This was a double-edged sword: painful in part because I couldn't blame her hatred on the disease, and also painful because she said true things to me about my character that made her dislike of me all the more believable.

Our separation lasted 9 long months. After nine months passed, I had really given up. I had accepted being disowned. Then, out of the blue, Grandmama called. I answered the phone and heard that familiar, "Sammy?" I couldn't believe she'd called. I will never forget how broken she sounded. Her voice was weak as if she'd been crying, and she said she didn't know how things had ever gotten so far. We both apologized and she said she wanted us to be a family again. I wanted it to happen, but it really never did.

In The Velveteen Rabbit, the rabbit becomes real after being loved on for so many years. Many of the older women in my life, like some of the ones in my Bible study group, seem to get more real with age. I love watching their girlish expressions when they say something naughty... the creases on their faces are so beautiful in the way they make expressions. They seem so alive!

Once Grandmama became sick, she was no longer like the beautiful older women in my Bible study. She didn't become more animated with age after becoming sick. She couldn't joke or even connect with me anymore. It was as if her body was a shell and still contained the memory of her... but no longer actually contained her. Unlike the Velveteen Rabbit, she didn't seem real anymore.

Over time, Alzheimer's made her aggressive with everyone except (ironically) me. I had learned my lesson, and was very careful with my tone. This seemed to be the key, because she never turned on me again. However, she was unpredictable and at times physically violent. I didn't feel confident about taking the kids to see her... I took them some, but fear kept me from going as often as I should have gone.

Eventually, she could no longer make new memories. I ended up guessing when her illness began based on the memories she retained. She always remembered Matthew, but in the end forgot Nathan. He was born in 2000. After she died in 2007, I realized while going through her home and belongings that her illness began much sooner than even 2000. We found unpaid bills, among other things, hidden away in envelopes all over her house. The earliest date for these strangely filed or hidden items was a decade before her death.

Just how long does Alzheimer's last? When do you get it? Do I have it now? Does Charles? Is there something I'm eating, or cooking with, or breathing that I should avoid?

No one knows.

On Christmas of 2006, I took my older boys to visit her. She was in terrible shape mentally... By this point, most of her conversations were a series of loops... a string of phrases she would utter in order again and again. Real conversation was impossible because she couldn't remember from one second to the next what had been said. Still, I tried that day. I began talking about the things we used to do together. Suddenly, the blank look in her eyes was filled with recognition, and she said"Those were the best days of my life." I looked at her with shock. She was there! I could see the real Grandmama behind her eyes. I told her, " You were a really good grandmother. " We both cried as I am crying now. It was the last time I saw her alive.

I thank God for that moment when she was real again. I'm so glad it ended that way; a real moment between us. The last 7 years had been so hard. Thank you, Jesus, for letting those be our last word to each other here on earth!

In His Hands

I haven't been blogging much. I compose blogs in my head... I REALLY want to document this time in my life while my children are young...

We have been SO BUSY since we moved! I packed everything so carefully... too carefully, I am now realizing. I even took the pictures out of their frames just in case the glass broke! Now, there are pictures and frames all over my living room and dining room. The chaos is driving me crazy!

We've had many little things keeping us occupied and busy; but there was one major event worth mentioning. Our house backs up to a lake and a walking trail, so we've headed out the back door on many occasions to either feed the ducks or go for a walk. From the moment we first moved in, I occasionally noticed a faint gas smell. It wasn't inside the house or even right next to the house... it was about 4 feet away from the back door! Charles couldn't smell it at all, so I thought maybe I was smelling some strange plant or something. I got on my hands and knees and sniffed the wall along the entire backside of my house... nothing. I went under the house into the crawls space and sniffed... nothing. I got on my knees and sniffed all around the hot water heater... nothing. I tried to forget about it.

A couple of weeks ago, on a Thursday night; I woke up in the middle of the night thinking, "I've got to get that gas smell checked!" I hadn't had a dream, exactly... it was more of just waking up with a single thought in my head. I was thinking, "What if the house blows up while I'm substitute teaching tomorrow... what if my husband and my 4-year-old blow up?"


I looked over at Charles, but he was sound asleep. I didn't smell gas and hadn't noticed an increase in the smell outside, so I shrugged it off and went back to sleep. With three children, our sleep is disturbed plenty as it is... I knew I shouldn't wake him over a "what if?"


I shrugged off the feeling and went back to sleep. By morning, I had forgotten all about it.

That evening, Nathan had a friend spend the night. We walked to the playground; and when we returned Charles and I both smelled a strong odor about 4 feet from the house. We both walked around the yard, trying to pinpoint the source.


I decided to play it safe this time and called the gas company. The woman answering emergency calls was very matter of fact, and instructed me to open all of the windows and doors. She said not to turn on any lights or appliances that were not already on, and not to light any candles or matches. I remembered my feeling of fear the night before, and her words did not comfort me!

While we were waiting for a gas company service man to arrive and check for a leak, we just sat there discussing her instructions. Since the gas smell was only on the outside, we decided against opening the doors and windows. The workman arrived and did indeed discover a leak. He said it was probably a small leak... but a small gas leak is still a gas leak, and he cut off our service! He assured us he would turn it back on as soon as we had the leak repaired, and left us at about 8:00 PM on a Friday night.

I immediately thought of the rate: time and a half for plumbing work on the weekends! We discussed waiting until Monday... for about 3 seconds. However, the reality is that with three boys and a cub scout fishing expedition scheduled for the next morning; we couldn't be going without baths and showers until Monday! Not to mention the washing machine and dishwasher...

We called the plumber, and they were able to come out the next morning. He dug up the pipe with the small leak; and the metal tubing literally crumbled in his hand when he removed it from the ground. Apparently, the only thing holding that gas pipe together was the ground surrounding it! $1500 later, we had hot water and a much safer house.

As I reflected on the feeling of urgency I'd had Thursday night about the gas smell; I was amazed to realize what God had tried to do for us. I ignored the "feeling" or "intuition" of course, and paid the consequences (time and a half!) Some might say God saved us from an explosion... and He did in a way, because no explosion was going to happen outside His will. But in addition to that, I believe He was trying to save us that $500 that we had to pay for having it repaired Saturday instead of Friday. What other explanation is there for me waking up with a sense of urgency Thursday night, when we didn't notice the increase in smell until Friday night? God wasn't wringing His hands, thinking "Oh, I hope they don't blow up!" No, He knew He wasn't done with us. When He is done with us, we'll be gone; no matter how careful we've been.