While Fires Burn in Ferguson

A shared post which is the best I've read so far about what is happening in Ferguson.

Benjamin Watson

At some point while I was playing or preparing to play Monday Night Football, the news broke about the Ferguson Decision. After trying to figure out how I felt, I decided to write it down. Here are my thoughts:

I'M ANGRY because the stories of injustice that have been passed down for generations seem to be continuing before our very eyes.

I'M FRUSTRATED, because pop culture, music and movies glorify these types of police citizen altercations and promote an invincible attitude that continues to get young men killed in real life, away from safety movie sets and music studios.

I'M FEARFUL because in the back of my mind I know that although I'm a law abiding citizen I could still be looked upon as a "threat" to those who don't know me. So I will continue to have to go the extra mile to earn the benefit of the doubt.

I'M EMBARRASSED because the looting, violent protests, and law breaking only confirm, and in the minds of many, validate, the stereotypes and thus the inferior treatment.

I'M SAD, because another young life was lost from his family, the racial divide has widened, a community is in shambles, accusations, insensitivity hurt and hatred are boiling over, and we may never know the truth about what happened that day.

I'M SYMPATHETIC, because I wasn't there so I don't know exactly what happened. Maybe Darren Wilson acted within his rights and duty as an officer of the law and killed Michael Brown in self defense like any of us would in the circumstance. Now he has to fear the backlash against himself and his loved ones when he was only doing his job. What a horrible thing to endure. OR maybe he provoked Michael and ignited the series of events that led to him eventually murdering the young man to prove a point.

I'M OFFENDED, because of the insulting comments I've seen that are not only insensitive but dismissive to the painful experiences of others.

I'M CONFUSED, because I don't know why it's so hard to obey a policeman. You will not win!!! And I don't know why some policeman abuse their power. Power is a responsibility, not a weapon to brandish and lord over the populace.

I'M INTROSPECTIVE, because sometimes I want to take "our" side without looking at the facts in situations like these. Sometimes I feel like it's us against them. Sometimes I'm just as prejudiced as people I point fingers at. And that's not right. How can I look at white skin and make assumptions but not want assumptions made about me? That's not right.

I'M HOPELESS, because I've lived long enough to expect things like this to continue to happen. I'm not surprised and at some point my little children are going to inherit the weight of being a minority and all that it entails.

I'M HOPEFUL, because I know that while we still have race issues in America, we enjoy a much different normal than those of our parents and grandparents. I see it in my personal relationships with teammates, friends and mentors. And it's a beautiful thing.

I'M ENCOURAGED, because ultimately the problem is not a SKIN problem, it is a SIN problem. SIN is the reason we rebel against authority. SIN is the reason we abuse our authority. SIN is the reason we are racist, prejudiced and lie to cover for our own. SIN is the reason we riot, loot and burn. BUT I'M ENCOURAGED because God has provided a solution for sin through the his son Jesus and with it, a transformed heart and mind. One that's capable of looking past the outward and seeing what's truly important in every human being. The cure for the Michael Brown, Trayvon Martin, Tamir Rice and Eric Garner tragedies is not education or exposure. It's the Gospel. So, finally, I'M ENCOURAGED because the Gospel gives mankind hope.

All About Grammas and Grammar

“The best-laid plans of mice and men often go awry.”  That pretty much sums up my life. It probably wouldn’t be as much of a problem if I wasn’t a procrastinator. And exactly what kind of plans do mice make anyway?

I love everything about this time of year – Halloween through the New Years – especially Thanksgiving and Christmas. But my family is so huge that I usually work myself into a frazzle. After cooking, baking and planning a big family celebration for my husband, Jeff’s, 50^th birthday this past Sunday, I decided this week I would drag in the tubs from the garage and sort through them. I mean, that shindig on Sunday didn’t wear me out enough, right?

These tubs contain gifts I’ve collected all year because my gift-giving list for Christmas is enormous. But I get a text Sunday night asking can I watch my five-year-old granddaughter, Jocelyn, because she’s sick and can’t go to pre-school. Jocelyn thinks my purpose on earth is to entertain and play with her every minute she’s here.

Yesterday amidst making cookies with Jocelyn (her idea, not mine), I get a phone call from Miranda asking can I pick up my five-year-old great-granddaughter, Ariana, from school. Uh, sure! I mean, I am Super-Mimi and I seriously do love all my kids, grandkids, and great-grandkids more than words can say.

Between the chaotic mess of two little girls – who aren’t all that sick – and mystery tubs scattered around, my house looked like a tornado hit it by the time my husband, Jeff, got home from work yesterday. And I looked like the tornado was still sweeping over me.

This whole process with Jocelyn and Ariana is repeated today. My morning consists of, “I don’t want Fruit Loops like Jocelyn. I want Coco Puffs” – “What are you making, Mimi? Pumpkin pies? Yay, can we help? How come? Then can we make cookies?” – “Can we have marshmallows? This isn’t too many" (said through giggles and chipmunk-cheeks stuffed with marshmallows). – “I’m still hungry after marshmallows. Can I have M&M’s? Why not? No, I’m not hyper, Mimi.” – “Can we go outside and jump on the trampoline?”

Today is officially Jeff’s birthday, so despite the chaos, I decided to send him a mushy text in the manner of that book Love You Forever. My text:  “Happy birthday to my precious, wonderful husband. I’ll love you forever, I’ll like you for always, as long as I’m alive, my husband you’ll be.”  After hitting send, it was back to pie making. I heard my phone ding. Jeff: “I love you, too. Who’s Alice?”

Alice?  Stupid autocorrect changed alive to Alice. “As long as I’m Alice, my husband you’ll be.” Stupid autocorrect also recently changed my facebook post from, “We’re on our way to the RWA (Romance Writers of America),” to, “We’re on our way to Rwanda.”  As if I have time for foreign travel.

Back to pie making. Seriously, whose idea was it for ME to bake a pumpkin pie to celebrate Joy’s birthday at our blog group tomorrow? Not me. Or maybe it was me. Anyway, then on to overseeing Jocelyn and Ariana as they rolled out, cut, baked then decorated cookie dough. Oh, and can I pleeeaaase help them built a house with Legos. And please take our picture on the trampoline. I should feel so good when I’m sick. I can barely jump on the trampoline when I’m well.

What’s a Mimi to do, huh? Well, for now, I need to get a birthday gift together for Joy, fix myself up so Jeff and I can go visit some friends, then to dinner with the hunky birthday man. That is, after these adorable girls get picked up.

Just call me Alice. Maybe her plans never go awry, I think, as my gaze travels over these darn tubs.

I Could Be A Reality Star

Do you watch reality television shows? I could be a reality star. Honestly, it seems it doesn’t take much to be on reality television nowadays. You can even have your own reality show. In the 1960’s I missed my chance, I guess. Teen mom – that was me. Teen Mom on MTV seems to be fairly popular. Who knew back then?

Those girls have nothing on me. I had my third baby when I was nineteen years old. My first, Tammy, was born when I was sixteen, a month before my seventeenth birthday. I guess I was kind of unique in that I was married and was not pregnant when I got married. I was….a virgin when I got married.

Somehow I survived – my babies did too – without much help from anyone except for friendly advice and the occasional offer to babysit. You know what else? My friend, Sande, did too. We were both teen moms with three babies.

We had no idea that what we were doing could someday be viewed as a potential for stardom. We spooned baby food into tiny mouths, rinse and washed soiled diapers (there wasn’t such a thing as disposable diapers), rocked cranky or sick babies, went without sleep, did laundry that we hung outside to dry, and juggled schedules while keeping our sanity.

We did it because we wanted to be mommies. I can’t imagine being a teenager and doing all of those mother things in front of a television camera. I value my privacy. I can’t imagine, either, that anyone behaves as they normally would without a camera recording it all.

I had two more babies – five children total – by the time I was twenty five. I did it all without a – television show. And that’s not the only reality show my life could fit. I am – was – a cougar before I even knew there was such a thing. I recently celebrated my twentieth anniversary to Jeff, who is sixteen and a half years younger than me – a second marriage for both of us.

But that’s a story for another time. 

Pecans and Pumpkins or How To Waste Not

What is a poverty mentality? If I didn’t coin the phrase, I should have. My definition of poverty mentality as it pertains to me is that I can’t stand to waste anything.

I grew up poor, only I didn’t realize we were poor. Mom was the queen of recycling – before it became popular – and resourcefulness. She made use of everything, either for our own needs or to sell. Fortunately or unfortunately, I am like her. Fortunately, because I can stretch a dollar until it rips, or unfortunately, because I find it hard to throw anything away. I am a smidgen of a hoarder. Think of that reality television show Hoarders. NO – that is not me.

I was recently in Stephenville, Texas visiting family. There are pecan trees all over Stephenville. Pecans lay in yards and on sidewalks and streets. Many people use them but many pecans go to waste. People step on them without giving it a thought. Think of fingernails on chalkboard. That was me, cringing whenever a pecan was stepped on.

I did come home with a big bag of unshelled pecans, compliments of some friends there.  But it was all I could do at times to keep walking over pecan lying on the ground or sidewalks. I wanted to holler, “Stop! Wait!” to my family while I scooped pecans into my purse. All I could think of was how much I pay for walnuts and pecans, especially this time of year when I do so much holiday baking. To see pecans wasted caused me to hyperventilate and have heart palpitations. I thought I’d swoon just like Scarlett in Gone With The Wind.

I made it home without having heart failure.

I bought three LARGE pumpkins before Halloween. I’ve never done that before, but I needed them for my Trunk R Treat theme at church. Well, Nifty-Thrifty me can’t let those pumpkins go to waste.

I discovered I am not a pioneer or pilgrim woman. My shoulder is sore from carving those pumpkins to cook. My kitchen floor had more than one disaster of spilled cooked pumpkin. I swear pumpkin seeds are like insects – they just crawl off and end up all over the place. I made six pumpkin pies today and that was just from one pumpkin. I cooked another pumpkin today. Ugh! I have one more pumpkin to cut and cook. Maybe I’ll throw it away.

NO, I won’t. My poverty mentality won’t let me. There are starving people in other countries – even in my country. God bless the USA!

And why am I bothering with pumpkins? I am knee deep in NaNoWriMo – National Writing Month. I have a word count to meet. Pumpkins or writing? Grrrr. I'm so torn.