Heroes (not the show)

I posted this as a note on Facebook back in March of 2011.  I just found it as I was checking out the timeline format (which I'm kinda diggin').  I reread it and felt the need to post it again because it's still applicable.

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Currently, in my job, I don’t have the opportunity to do much couples counseling.  However, recently I find myself in the position of being the resident couples counselor and having a grand ol’ time returning to the counseling of my roots.  Of course most of it is colored with the underlying issue of alcoholism or addiction but nevertheless it’s couples counseling.

In a facility where 4/5 of the population is adolescent, we don’t really see a lot of people coming through that are in committed relationships, even those of us that work with the 1/5 that are adults.  Unfortunately, in my line of work I get exposed to the most fractured relationships and the most traumatic stories.  I feel truly blessed to come home to a man that loves me.

This little note was prompted by the fact that I reading my dad’s blog today.  http://www.pastordeaton.blogspot.com/ if you want to go check it out.  In his personal information on the right hand side it had a section that asked about who his heroes were.  He listed them in this order:  Jesus Christ, my dad, Dawn Deaton, my children, Jack Bauer.

For those of you who are unaware, Dawn Deaton is my mother.  My dad views my mom as one of his heroes.  I think that is one of the best things I’ve heard ever.  I grew up watching my parents model what it meant to have a husband be the head of the family yet have a marriage where they were equal partners.  It was a beautiful balance.  My mother would defer to my dad but my dad would never make a major decision without seeking out my mother.

My mother is a remarkable women, though she doesn’t think so, which makes her even more remarkable.  She did not have a storybook childhood yet instead of carrying that on to her children, she made a decision to make the effort to not do things the same way.  When the small church that my dad pastored could no longer support a family of four, my mom willingly moved across the country away from her 5 sisters and her best friend that she had since the 8th grade.  When my father got a new church in Connecticut, she stayed in Texas with two kids by herself for two months just so we could finish the school year.  She has had two knee replacements and after the last surgery was up walking around the nurses’ station THE SAME DAY.  My mom does not have a college education yet she is sought after for counsel on personal and theological matters frequently and for good reason.  She has earned the respect of people seeking her out.

To be honest, I wasn’t surprised when I saw that my dad listed my mom as a hero.  I was more surprised by the reference to his children.  I guess I’ve been a little jaded lately with my work and God led me to my father’s blog at just the right time.  I needed to be reminded of the husbands out there that lift up their wives for the heroes they are.

Especially my mom.

The Sauna

So, since Germie has finished his rough draft of the first book in my trilogy, I've been inspired to start writing things again. I've written a few short stories in my day. I would be no means say that I am a writer, however. I just like to do it. So I found a website that generates settings, first few words of the first sentence, and then four additional words that must be used in the story. One of my best stories was written with such a prompt. You can read it by going to the archives and picking, "For the Love of Patsy Cline."

This one is a bit sappy but I still enjoyed writing it. Here are the prompts:

setting: in a sauna

first words: The stairs seemed

additional words: quench, drip, dribble, toenails.

So without further ado, I give you, "The Sauna."

The Sauna

The stairs seemed awfully steep for a sauna that catered to the elderly. I was looking for my grandmother who has walked away from me while I was trying to re-register her at the Senior Center. I knew that she loved the sauna so that was the first place that I went to look. By the looks of the stairs, I assumed that the center management only wanted the more agile of the seniors to utilize the sauna.

I started to ascend the steps when a very harsh voice called out, “What do you think you are doing, young lady?!” I turned to see a short, nicely muscled man about 60 years old. He was wearing a towel around his waist and I was praying that he had on shorts underneath.

“I believe my grandmother is in there and I have an appointment I need to take her to.” Grandmother was supposed to be seeing a therapist to help her cope with the recent loss of Grandfather. They did everything together and she was not doing well without him. She seemed lost.

“Well, you can’t go in there dressed like that. All that denim will clog the vent with its fibers.” He then pointed me towards the women’s dressing area. As I entered, I saw a bin marked “soiled” and could only imagine what constituted soiled around here. Next to it was a book shelf, most likely from IKEA, which had each shelf labeled with different sizes. Upon closer inspection, I was pleasantly surprised to see stacks of blue cotton cover-ups that matched the polish on my toenails. I was afraid that the older man intended me to enter into the sauna with nothing but a towel on. That would never do. Now I can be fully covered and be color coordinated.

I grabbed an appropriately sized cover up and changed. I took a fresh towel off of the stack by the door to the shower area and then stepped back out in the hallway leading to sauna. To my surprise, the older man was still standing just at the bottom of the stairs. Apparently he was waiting to make sure I didn’t sneak in with my jeans on. He had his arms crossed over his chest which made the 5 long grey hairs stand up. He looked at me sternly and asked, “What is your grandmother’s name?”

“Margaret Tennyman,” I answered.

His face immediately softened. It was then that I noticed the drip of sweat that was rolling down his neck to his chest. He must have gone into the sauna before meeting me at the stairs.

“You’re Margie’s granddaughter? She talks about you often. She is one of the best people. Period.”

My grandmother had been quite the burden lately due to her grief. It was strange to hear someone say that about her. I knew that she wasn’t a bad person but that she was a handful. Even the center staff would tell me that she had trouble following direction to the point of endangering herself. I loved my grandmother but I was struggling with her. And I had my own grief over the loss of my grandfather to contend with.

I mumbled out a short, “Thank you,” and tried to move past him to go up the stairs. He stepped in front of me and looked me in the eyes.

“You be gentle with her. Try to understand.”

I was startled. Trying not to show it, I said, “Yes, sir.”

He then let me pass. I opened the door and received a blast of hot air on my face. It was so steamy in there that I had trouble seeing. Then I heard her voice.

“…one of the happiest moments of my life. There she stood with her trophy hugged to her chest and smiling so wide you could see all of her missing teeth. I can see it like a photograph in my mind. That adorable blue dress with the pink flowers just made her blue eyes sparkle...”

As she continued her story, I realized that she was talking about me. She was telling the story of when I won my 3rd grade talent show. I had sung a song that my mother used to sing to me when she would rock me to sleep.

“…I was so proud that she had inherited her grandfather’s musical ability! My! Kenneth could sing! I believe that’s when I fell in love with him, when he sang to me.”

“Grandmother?”

I heard another voice answer as my eyes began to adjust. “Margie, is this her? Your songbird?”

“Jessie?! What are you doing here, honey? Dribble some more water on the stones and then come over here and sit next to me.”

I did as I was instructed and then told her, “Grandmother, you had me worried. You disappeared as I was talking to the girl at the front desk.”

The older man from the stairs sat down across from us and responded, “Kaylie is a nice enough girl but she sure can make someone drowsy from how long it takes to finish all her paperwork.”

As I looked around the sauna I saw four people in addition to my grandmother and myself. The sauna guard, who I later learned was named Ernest, a very plump woman with dark grey hair named Lucinda, a tall skinny woman with her long salt and pepper hair pulled into a tight bun named Lynn, and a small petite woman named Pearl. The woman who asked if I was my grandmother’s songbird was Lucinda.

“Oh dear, you shouldn’t have worried about me. I know everyone here and everyone here knows me. This is the safest place I could be, besides with my Kenneth.”

Everyone else nodded their agreement with this statement. Then as if she wasn’t interrupted, my grandmother continued to tell about the regional competition that 3rd grade me won with the song, “The Sun’ll Come Out Tomorrow.” She very clearly described the red curly wig I wore and how many bobby pins were required to keep in on my head over my thick brown hair. Grandmother described the glow of pride on my Grandfather’s face as he watched me perform. As she told the story I recalled how my grandfather lifted me up in the air to twirl me around saying, “Good job, Honeybee! That’s my girl!” My grandfather was always so strong. I didn’t think that anything could stop him, especially not cancer. The cancer came on so quick and by the time that he was diagnosed, he only had 8 days left on this earth.

I began to cry softly. Because of the darkness of the room and the sweat that was now pouring down my face, no one noticed.

Lynn then reflected on her sister. Lynn told us that her sister, Jane, would make the best pies and that Lynn had convinced her to enter one of them into the county fair’s contest. Jane, who loved to make pies, actually entered a pie in every category, and won each one. Lynn laughed as she shared that Jane was embarrassed because she thought everyone would be convinced that she cheated somehow.

Lucinda, who had laughed along with Lynn said, “I bet you sure miss those pies.”

“I sure do. It’s probably one of the things that I think of daily since I lost her. It’s a good memory so it doesn’t get me sad like some of the times that I think about her. What I would give to taste her chocolate cream pie again. She got the balance just right: not to light and not to dense. Oh! I think I just made my stomach grumble!” She chuckled as she rubbed her abdomen.

One-by-one, each shared a story about a loved one that they had lost. Lucinda spoke of her mother and the way that she would braid Lucinda’s hair so tight that she would have to skip recess for having a headache. Pearl shared how her best friend and she would try to convince the boys to let them play stick ball with them. Pearl said that one day her and Peggy dressed up like boys and tricked the boys into believing that they were new in the neighborhood. When Pearl and Peggy out hit every boy there, they took off their hats to reveal their true identities and it caused quite a ruckus. Ernest even shared how his wife and he used to go dancing every Friday night. Ernest said that she was admitted to the hospital for the last time on a Saturday and they had gone out dancing the night before.

Finally, Lucinda turned to me, “What about you, songbird? Do you have a story to share?”

I was taken aback. During the whole story-telling, I just viewed myself as an observer not an actual participant. Once I got over my initial shock, it wasn’t difficult to find a story to tell.

“When I was 5 years old, I wanted so badly to take the training wheels off of my bike. My dad, who was never really in the picture because he had to work all the time, couldn’t teach me. My grandfather was very eager to see me without the training wheels so he volunteered as soon as he heard my complaint. He took me to the garage and we took out my bike. I still remember, it had a pink and white basket with streamers hanging off of the handles. He got his tools and took the training wheels off. He tried to explain how to ride a two-wheeled bike but I must have made a face because he jumped on my tiny bike and started wheeling around. He looked so silly with his legs sticking out from the sides. I giggled as he rode around. Finally he stopped and said ‘Hop on.’ He held it as I got on and walked with me down the driveway to the sidewalk. He turned the bike and asked me if I was ready to try. When I nodded he pushed the bike but didn’t move his foot so I rode right over it. I fell before he even let go mostly because I was laughing at running over his foot. I kept laughing as he hopped up and down, holding his foot, acting as if I had rolled over it with a steamroller. He was always goofing around like that. Every time I take my bike out on the trails, I think of that day and smile.”

I looked at my grandmother and she was smiling. She patted my arm and said, “That was a great memory. You didn’t know it but I was watching from the window ready to bring out a Band-Aid. I should have known better. It would always take nearly losing a limb before you would cry over a boo boo.”

Ernest suddenly said, “Wait a minute, doesn’t Margie have an appointment to get to?”

I haven’t seen my grandmother look as happy as the time she spent in that sauna with her friends. All this time I thought my grandmother was retreating from the world and reality when all she needed as a place to relive her good memories. I’d been disconnecting from her as she tried to grieve and I was too caught up in the technical aspects of grief that I couldn’t grieve myself. How silly of me to think that grief could quench her spirit. True it is with great sadness that she, and I, must transition from experiencing my grandfather to reliving memories, but it’s in reliving those memories that he still lives. In that time in that sauna, I began to understand my grandmother in a whole new way. Suddenly, she didn’t seem like such a burden, but rather a comrade through a trial.

“No,” I answered Ernest. “I believe she got everything she needed here.”

Celebrity Crushes

I know that Curtis won't be too thrilled with this journal entry but it was the only journal prompt that I found that wasn't whiney or really serious. So here it is, I present to you:

3 Celebrity Crushes!!!!

1. Johnny Depp

Now I know that there are plenty of people out there who have a crush on Johnny Depp, however, my crush originated during the 21 Jumpstreet era. I know he's all scruffy and hippie-esque now, but the Johnny that I crushed on was the young bad/good boy.

2. Sean Connery

Unlike Johnny, I find myself still crushing on the older Sean Connery. He may be closing in on 82 years old, but he's still a very...um...attractive man. Young Sean was also very...um...attractive. Not gonna lie, SNL's Celebrity Jeopardy contributed to my "love" of Sean Connery.

3. Liam Neeson. Not sure I need to explain this one too much except he is one of the nicest guys who can seriously kick some tail. Did you see Taken? Awesome. And because we all know that I love the Celts, Rob Roy was one of my favorite Liam roles. He was even incredible as an animated lion.

Honorable Mention. This one was hard to pick. The first three were obvious to me. I thought about Ryan Reynolds and Robert Downey, Jr (Carr!e has the rights to that one). I also thought about non-drunk, non-antisemitic spouting Mel Gibson. I finally settled on Gerard Butler. Obviously, there's something about the Scottish accent that I looooooooooove. I think I've...respected...Gerard's work since the life changing movie of Lara Croft Tomb Raider: The Cradle of Life. Crush worthiness was solidified with the movie 300.

Final Note:

My biggest crush is not on a celebrity. I go absolutely weak at the knees when it comes to a certain computer nerd. What can I say? I love nerds, one in particular.

(previous two pictures taken by Aphrodite Photography)

frustration

It is really quite amazing to me how quickly I get frustrated these days. Has my tolerance changed or do I now have some of the most infuriating people in my life? Or maybe I'm more tuned in to these negative emotions now that I have all this training.

Either way, I'm not digging it (I'm bringing that phrase back, ya dig?). This morning I cried because I was so frustrated. The tears came because I realized that telling off your boss is not a wise choice.

Bit of a confession (though it shouldn't come as a surprise to anyone): One of the quickest ways to get me frustrated and/or angry is to treat me like I'm stupid.

For my first post in quite some time, this sure is whiny. I'm just glad I have a prayer partner and parents that pray for me.

Let's see if I can end this on a positive note. This morning on my way to work, the lady in front of me in the Starbucks drive-thru paid for my coffee. I would have paid it forward for the person behind me but he was driving a BMW. I'll pay it forward when someone is behind me counting out their change driving a pinto.

Plague of Mosaic Proportions

Allow me to set the scene for you. At work we have what is called “The Unit.” It is a mostly wooden building where we seclude the population of the community that is considered unsafe. Usually what would land someone in The Unit are things like aggression, continual breaking of male/female restriction, and causing physical harm to others. The Unit, at this particular time had 5 guys in it. The counseling staff and the other head honchos (including the one in charge of the Unit) were assessing a few of the clients seeing if they needed to be admitted.

We had decided that one needed to go thus taking the count to 6.

We had made a decision that there was one more that needing to go so we brought him into the conference room to discuss the matter. During the discussion, the head honcho of The Unit gets an urgent phone call and she zooms, yes zooms, out of the room. But not before she makes a page overhead for maintenance to go to The Unit…STAT!

As we continue our discussion with the client we are about to send, over the radio we hear commotion. Yes, commotion.

Then we get a phone call in the conference room from The Unit head honcho saying that we can’t send anyone else to The Unit.

Ok, so we send the client we were dealing with on his way with a stern talking to and an understanding that he can’t mess up again.

Then the head honcho shows up again.

Termites have taken over The Unit and those that are currently in there need to be moved.

How bad is it? How can anybody tell?

Oh it’s bad, they’ve come out of the walls and are covering the floor.

*deep breath*

Now, I’m put in a position where I have to decide if I want to be the good employee or the passive one. I decide that I’ll be helpful. Another teammate and I decide to go over to The Unit and help the staff transfer these clients to their new location. I keep telling myself since they are still over there, it can’t possibly be that bad.

That’s what I get for thinking.

I walk into The Unit and look to my right through the security window into the North Wing.

PAUSE

I’d like to pause here for a moment and say that I realize in the past I have been known to exaggerate slightly for the good of a story. I want to be perfectly clear here when I say that there is NO exaggeration here. When it comes to bugs, I’m not even the squeamish one. When my brother and I shared an apartment, I was the spider killer. I feel like I need to explain that as I continue with my story.

RESUME

I look into the North Wing to see bugs pouring over the floor and walls. Didn’t know termites had wings until this very moment. What a joyous moment to learn that lesson.

Rob and I step into the dayroom of The Unit where only one door is separating us from the North Wing. That door has a two inch gap along the bottom. Termites are starting to pour into the day room as the six boys are pressed against the south wall in preparation to for transition.

The head honcho comes in and gives them a sweet speech about holding it together as we transition them and that it won’t take long for them to fumigate The Unit should it be necessary for one or more of them to come back. After that, they were each given their flip flops one at a time.

It took everything I had within me to stand there calmly and professionally while hoards of bugs were swarming less than three feet away from me. Did I mention that they fly? That means that some of them weren’t contained to the wall and floor three feet away from me!!! Every fiber of my being wanted to scream and run out of there in a panic stricken terror.

It’s the day after and I’ve had two showers since then.

I still get itchy just thinking about it.

I’m telling you, the only reason why one of the plagues that God sent to pharaoh wasn’t termites is simply because either there wasn’t enough wood or he didn’t want to leave them homeless.

Through the air with the greatest of ease

My work day was coming to a close and it was a true Friday (meaning I didn’t have to work on Saturday). I did have to stay late as I had to do a second intervention with a kid before I left but that’s ok because it was Friday!! I check my phone and see a message from my father that states: Going to Chinese for supper around 6-6:30.

This was followed by a second message that stated: just saying.

Sweet! Chinese! Of course, I’m running late but hopefully I can meet them in time.

Oh miracle of miracles, I get another text from my dad! This one reads: Meet me on the square. Park next to me in front of the BBQ.

Score. Not only am I not too late, but I also don’t have to drive the whole way there.

So, my dad and I are riding along listening to his music choice (hmm) and just chatting…like we do…when up ahead, in the middle of 175, we see a man walking towards us. Well, walking is a stretch. He is sauntering/stumbling. He is obviously disoriented. My dad immediately pulls over the car and before it comes to a full stop my door opens and I go running after the man.

That’s right folks, Fatty McGee went running down 175 with my dad following. My dad started to stop traffic as I went out to the middle of the highway to grab him. (Of course I thought they were stopping at the sight of ME running at them.)

“Sir!! Are you ok?!”

“Whah?”

I grab his arm and I can immediately smell the alcohol. My dad grabs his other arm but I guess the wind is blowing just right so he can’t smell the booze. The guy is having trouble responding to the leadings of Deatons but he is coming along. By this we are joined by another do-gooder named Chino, who coincidentally lives 4 houses down from my brother and comes to my church every Thursday with his little boy for T-ball. Or is that spelled tee ball?

Sorry, I derailed. I try to get him to sit down but he’s having none of it so I get him to lean up against a van and Chino is helping to guard him. My dad is on the phone with the 911. My fear at this point is that Justin (that’s his name which is the only information that we could get from him besides the fact that he didn’t know anything) was going to start swinging. So I just kept my hand on his arm so that if he starting swinging I could grab the one arm and pray that Chino could grab the other. At this point, even if Chino couldn’t, this guy was so smashed, all I had to worry about was dodging the first swing and then he would be done. His own momentum would take him down.

Well, after watching him pee his pants (twice), helping the cop take him to the ground, one over bearing woman with some extremely bad ideas, and a quick report to the nice policeman, my dad and I were once again on our way and were soon having Chinese food with my mother, which was really the whole point of the evening anyway.

When my dad and I were explaining to my mom why we were so late my dad kept saying that he was just waiting to see a body flying through the air because it was that dangerous of a situation. I wasn’t even looking at the cars, I was just looking at the man. I guess that what makes my dad and me such a good team in situations because we look at things differently. He saw the cars and what could possibly kill me and the guy, I just saw the guy that needed to get out of the street.

I wish I could say that this is the only time we’ve ever been in such a situation that would test this team theory, but it’s not.

*sigh*

It’s not.

I have a fiance

The announcement slide had said that if you missed Sparky’s surprise skit at the fundraiser luncheon you would regret it. In the past, all of his skits have been extremely creative and fun so I was looking forward to it. Plus, I knew who was doing the cooking so I had my reservations for the upcoming event.

As we were sitting at our little table eating our salads, Curtis said that the skit was one of those that involved Sparky taking people from the audience. Considering our history of making fun of each other, I had a feeling I was in trouble.

I look over and see that in addition to Curtis’s parents who arrived earlier to watch the puppet black light show, Curtis’s grandparents arrived.

Now, Curtis’s granddad is a pastor at a church of his own and finished his morning duties (he he, duties) and then they came to our church for lunch.

“Hey, you’re grandparents are here! Why are they here?”

“I don’t know. Sparky, why are granddad and them here?”

“I don’t know, I guess to support the puppet ministry.”

Now, I would like to think that I am an intelligent person. However, my brain stopped working. I didn’t put any of it together. Other people told me later that they figured out what was happening. I would like to think that God made me intentionally stupid at this moment. Especially when Curtis’s mom pulled out her video camera at this next part.

Sparky steps up to the podium and announces that he, and whoever he gets from the audience to help him, will be performing the favorite fairy tale, “Cinderella.”

Immediately, Steven began to heckle. Now I KNEW I was in trouble.

Sure enough, I was chosen to play the role of Cinderella. I was handed an apron and a broom. My evil step mother was a police chief and my evil step sisters were a juvenile probation officer and a dog catcher, both male, all three in bad wigs.

Then my fairy god mother arrives. Darin. He, I’m sorry, she, had long blonde hair, fairy wings and a wand. Oh and she spoke like Yoda, thanks to the heckler.

Then comes Prince Charming. My Prince Charming, Curtis. Of, course, he had a wig too.

Sparky walked us through the whole story including dancing and shoes and all.

Then came the moment when Prince Charming gets down on one knee. Now, I thought Sparky was just teasing him again for taking FOREVER to advance our relationship. Then Curtis reached into his pocket and pulled out a ring box.

Wait, a minute! Sparky didn’t give him that prop.

Now, let me give you a little side note for a moment: One night, a couple months into our relationship, as Curtis walked me to the door after a date, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a box that had a candy heart in it. He gave it to me. I read the heart and it said, “Kiss me.” And that was how our first kiss happened.

Another night, I handed him a box that said the words, “Love ya” which brought about the first time we said I love you to each other.

Ok, back to the story.

So, Curtis has this ring box, he’s down on one knee, wearing a mullet wig, and I’m confused because I still don’t know what’s going on. Curtis opens the ring box and inside is a candy heart that says, “Marry me.”

That’s when the neurons kicked in and I understood: Curtis is asking me to marry him!!!

The crowd went wild! It was like it was a football game with all the whooping and hollering. I looked up and Alexis was crying (so was Darin).

Then he reaches into his other pocket and pulls out the most beautiful ring I’ve ever seen.

I said yes.