Adventures are for Somewhere BESIDES Auburn

Steve and I had a great trip to Auburn this past weekend, but we messed up one big time. That was in our restaurant choice for dinner on Friday night. We were trying to "be good" and stick to the low-carb diet we've been on, so when we saw a bright, shiny, new place with Diner in the title, we thought, "It's bound to have meat, vegetables and salad, so why not try it?" Big mistake. Huge. The service was lackluster, and the food tasted bad, really bad and was overpriced to boot. When we left, I sent a text message to the kids spelling out our tale of woe. Matt quickly responded with a text of his own: "Who goes to a diner in Auburn???" The clear implication was that he wouldn't be caught dead there. His choices -- and what should have been our choices -- would be Chuck's BarBQue, Guthrie's, Cheeburger/Cheeburger, or Niffer's. He wouldn't be looking for healthy, home-cooking. He'd be wanting to feel like a college student again. Laura's text said: "Why would you go anywhere besides Cheeburger or Guthrie's?" When I told her that we decided to be a little bit adventurous, her reply was classic -- "You don't go to Auburn for what's different. You go because of what is the SAME! War Eagle!"

See why I love my children so much? They are such delightful people, and they were exactly right. Why do the old grads like Steve and me make pilgrimages back to the Loveliest Village on the Plains? Because of what's the SAME. The traditions!

We learned our lesson the hard way and spent the rest of the weekend reminiscing and enjoying the tried and true.

The top picture shows the back of my latest t-shirt purchase. Notice that "rolling the trees on Toomer's Corner" is featured because their fate has been so much apart of the news since last winter. In the next picture, you can see for yourself how the trees at Toomer's Corner are faring. Look closely at the tops, and you'll see some sick-looking yellow and brownish leaves, especially when you compare their color to the trees behind them. It's sad that this particular tradition may not survive much longer.

I always enjoy walking past Langdon Hall, the site of my Senior Piano Recital given in December of 1971. I started my college journey at Samford, studying with my much-beloved teacher Dr. Betty Sue Shepherd. But, I gave that up to marry Steve and ended up here. I'd do it all over again, dear Steve.
This is Gargis Hall where many of my music classes were held. It was old then, so it's REALLY old now. :) Stately architecture, though, don't you think? And there's a glimpse of Samford Hall's iconic clock tower in the distance.
Here Steve and I are headed to the game, and you can see Jordan-Hare Stadium in the background and Haley Center. I hear that they're planning to tear down the Haley Center. I guess that piece of landscape will change soon -- hopefully for the better.
Here is Aubie -- award-winning mascot -- entering the stadium before game time. Right before kick-off, he came onto the field carrying the crystal football, symbol of Auburn's 2010 National Championship. Definitely a "goose-bump moment."
With 30 seconds left in the game, the score was 42-38 and thankfully, it stayed that way to the end. It was another day of chanting the cheers, singing the fight song, and pulling for the Tigers.

This is not the place to color outside the lines. We'll stick more closely to what we know and love next time -- hopefully in the not-too-distant future. War Eagle, everybody!

Receiving Acts of Kindness

Last Saturday was a scorcher of a day on the campus of Auburn University. The first game of the 2011 season, and the first game since Auburn won the National Championship over Oregon last January. Steve and I, along with 76,000+ loyal fans, made the trip to see the Tigers add yet another win to the nation's current longest winning streak.

I knew it was going to be a good day when we walked into Cracker Barrel for breakfast and a young, 20-something young man wanted to know where I had gotten my shirt -- a sure sign that I had chosen a good one the previous day when we were in our favorite campus bookstores.

Later, when we were standing in the crowd waiting for Tiger Walk, a nice man who was at a security tent beside the gate brought over a sturdy metal chair and asked if I wanted to stand in it to get a better view of the coaches and players about to enter the stadium. What a treat!!!! It almost made being a "fluffy senior citizen" worth it. Bless his heart.

Steve and I thought we were being smart and careful about surviving 4 hours in a sweltering stadium. We applied thick layers of sunscreen, we had on comfortable shoes, and light-weight clothes, and I had a big floppy hat to cover my neck, ears and thin hair. We were lucky enough to have found tickets where the sun was to our backs, and Tropical Depression Lee, coming up from the Gulf, provided a very pleasant breeze. We went in with large, ice-filled Diet Cokes and thought we'd be "set." Happily, the folks around us were fun-loving and NOT drinking -- a definite plus for a morning game.

The game was tense and disappointing. For 57 1/2 minutes, the Tigers looked mediocre at best. Then, with 2:07 left they scored 14 points to win the game by 4 points. Definitely, a thriller. We were so glad we stayed until the final buzzer. The end to a great day, right? Just walk to the car, turn on the air conditioner, get something cool to drink, and head home. It should have been so simple.

However, about the time we got out of the main flow of people leaving the stadium, I knew I was in trouble. The best way to describe it is that I just started fading away. I was sinking into a semi-conscious hole of some kind. I would take a few steps and then stop to sit down or put my head down, take a few more steps, try to "get a grip" and then go again. It wasn't long before I was incapable of going another step -- very frightening with the car parked blocks and blocks away.

Random acts of kindness started popping up from everywhere. Two guys stopped and offered to use their Smartphones to find the number of a taxi service. (Steve called but the taxi couldn't get very close because of the flow of traffic implemented by the campus police). One lady stopped to give us her fan (shown in the picture above). Who would think that a funeral-home-type fan would become such a symbol of kindness? Steve approached some nearby tailgaters, and they quickly brought ice water, some Sprite, orange juice, and even generously offered my teetotalling husband "a cold beer." Don't worry. He graciously declined the beer but gratefully accepted the other beverages.

I couldn't open my eyes. All around my mouth I could taste salt, and my skin was grainy. Steve described me as having "a funny color." (Glad I didn't look in a mirror.) The seemingly insurmountable dilemma Steve had was how to get me back to our car. At that moment -- completely through the loving provision of our Heavenly Father -- an ambulance came down the street where we were, obviously looking for anyone needing help. Steve flagged them down, and the paramedics jumped out and started assessing my situation. Amazingly, my vital signs were good, but severe dehydration was determined to be the culprit. Those three ANGELS got permission from their boss and carried us in their ambulance to within 2 steps of our car. They even buckled me into my seat belt!!!! They treated me with such kindness and respect. I will likely never know their names, but I DO know that God used them as vehicles of His protection and blessing in my life last Saturday afternoon.

If anyone reading this has any connection to the emergency personnel that were on duty last weekend in Auburn, PLEASE express my sincere thanks and appreciation for their work and tell them how much it meant to Steve and to me.

Within an hour or two of sitting with the air conditioner blowing full blast in my face and my dear Hero Husband forcing me to drink lots and lots of water, I started to come back to life. We definitely learned the "importance of staying hydrated" and will be much more deliberate when faced with a similar scenario again.

I have to say it. This day made me even prouder of being a member of the Auburn Family. Win, lose, or draw, I'm "ALL IN!"

Matthew 10:42 (Jesus said) "And whoever in the name of a disciple gives to one of these little ones EVEN A CUP OF COLD WATER to drink, truly I say to you he shall not lose his reward."

The Passing of Steve's Mom

From looking at the children's sizes/ages, I would guess that this picture was made on Easter Sunday in 1982 or 1983. It was always our habit to keep the kids dressed up after church until we could drive from Hartselle to Grannie and Granddaddy's house on 8th Ave. in Decatur and make some pictures. Then, we'd change clothes, enjoy Grannie's much-anticipated lunch, and Granddaddy would hide Easter eggs for the kids over and over again.

Steve's dad, Elton Pearson, died at the age of 73 in a boating accident while fishing in the Tennessee River -- his very favorite past-time -- on October 30, 1997. His mom, Mary Nell Pearson, died at the age of 86 in Baptist East Hospital in Montgomery on July 27, 2011, from complications due to congestive heart failure.

2011 was a miserable year for Grannie. She fractured a vertebra in her back on two separate occasions, both causing intense pain and requiring surgical procedures. She was also hospitalized with bronchitis and heart/anxiety issues on several occasions. In less than seven months, she went from a 2-bedroom independent living apartment to 1 room in an assisted living place then to a nursing home/rehabilitation facility. She was tired of fighting pain and illness and was ready to die, in both a physical sense and a spiritual one.

Her five grandchildren conducted the funeral service. They all shared favorite memories of their Grannie. Jon David gave the eulogy, Jenny and Julie shared Scripture passages, Laura played the piano, and Matt gave the message. I can't imagine anything that would have pleased her more. Although they witnessed some of Grannie's suffering and unhappiness in her final years, they had much to share about the Grannie that was so much a part of their growing years.

As her obituary stated, Mrs. Pearson was very smart -- making a 4.0 in Medical Records at Calhoun AFTER her boys had graduated from Auburn. Mrs. Pearson was a phenomenal cook -- as anyone who ever tasted her food could attest. And, she was a devoted student of the Bible, having taken part in many Community Bible Study series, as well as Kay Arthur and David Jeremiah studies.

But, her grandchildren remembered other things. One year she made life-size stuffed tigers for the boys and life-size stuffed dolls for the girls for Christmas. She must have worked for months and months on those and had to hide the evidence every time we went to visit. :) Jon David mentioned a great cake she made for his birthday. It was in the shape of a flower pot, complete with dirt (Oreo crumbs) and gummy worms. When we were planning the menu for Matt's rehearsal dinner when he was getting married, he requested Grannie's chocolate pie to be the dessert. So, she made 10 of them for the occasion.

We laughed remembering that she was visiting us at Cedar Cove one time and was using a walker because of a broken ankle. We were out in the front yard looking at the pond, and someone noticed a snake in the grass. The next thing we knew, Grannie was up on the porch, and her walker was still in the yard. :) We teased her unmercifully about that.

Steve remembers coming home from school on a Halloween afternoon crying because he had forgotten that his Boy Scout troop was having a costume contest. Grannie quickly put her creative talents to work and whipped up a scarecrow outfit for him. He ended up winning First Place!!!

Grannie made the tenderest pot roast I've even eaten, but that is such a small thing in comparison to the job she did of raising a wonderful son who became my husband. I will always be grateful to her for that.

I had never been in the room when someone took their last breath until a few weeks ago. In God's providence, Steve and I were in Montgomery when Grannie died. We knew she probably had only a few months to perhaps a year left to live, but we weren't expecting the end to come on that day. Nevertheless, God arranged for us to be there. Steve was holding her hand as her breaths became shallower and farther apart. Her eyes fluttered open in the last minutes. I couldn't help but wonder if she might already be glimpsing heaven. The end was very peaceful and quiet.

I thank God for her life and her legacy.

Proverbs 31:28-31 "Her children rise up and bless her; her husband also, and he praises her, saying: 'Many daughters have done nobly, but you excel them all.' Charm is deceitful and beauty is vain, but a woman who fears the Lord, she shall be praised. Give her the product of her hands, and let her works praise her in the gates."

A Clumsy Cast Can Still Produce a Great Catch

Look at this face of a very happy man. If Steve can't be hugging on grand kids, then at least put him in a boat on a sunny summer day when the willow flies are out, and watch the contentment glow out of him. On this particular day, he was in the boat WITH 5 grand kids. Supreme happiness in his book. :)

My husband has many amazing skills, some well-known, some not-so-well-known. Most people know that he's a good veterinarian. He has a great sense about what is wrong with an animal and knows how to use diagnostic tools to get answers. But, I think his clients appreciate him even more for his consistent integrity and honesty in dealing with them and their pets.

Some more personal skills are his thinking/reasoning/dispensing of wisdom to his children and to me. And, one of his talents that I get to enjoy most is his ability to cook a great breakfast.

Over this past weekend, though, I was able to observe (again) two of his great abilities that are like viewing great works of art when you see him in action. One was on Sunday morning when he was teaching a Bible lesson to our Sunday School class. It is awesome to watch and experience a person who is so obviously caught up in using their spiritual gift. His smooth delivery, his style, his knowledge (produced from study and insight), and his approachability are all apparent when he's in his element. I love seeing him AND hearing him teach.

The other great skill that I observed was on a recent late afternoon fishing trip when I decided to join him. Sadly, I don't do this often enough. I figure that's "his thing," and I'll just stay home and do "my thing." I'm so glad I went this time. Watching him cast his rod with uncanny accuracy is really a thing of beauty -- meant in the most masculine terms, of course. It shouldn't be a surprise. After all, he's been honing this skill for well over 50 years, but still I love to watch the expert at work. He knows how to place each lure in precisely the best spot for attracting that unsuspecting bass.

He handed me a rod and reel that he said was simple enough, "even the grandchildren used it during Cousins Camp," and gave me a few, hurried instructions. My casts were clumsy, jerky, short, inaccurate. But, hey, I got my bait in the water and felt several definite nibbles.

As you might expect, that led me to a spiritual correlation. So often, my witnessing attempts are like those casts. I don't always use the "right words." I seldom follow the methods or scripts that I've been taught. I just try to be faithful to "get my bait in the water" and trust the Holy Spirit to produce a great catch. I'm never going to catch a fish by staying home, now am I? I need to spend more time out where the fish are and continue to learn the best baits to use for certain fish and the right casting motions to use to get my bait in front of the hungry fish. My witnessing and my fishing can improve with practice. My husband will be pleased if I go fishing with him more often. My Savior will be pleased if I share more boldly and more often of His love and saving power.

John 21: 5-6, 11 "Jesus therefore said to them, 'Children, you do not have any fish, do you?' They answered Him, 'No." And He said to them, "Cast the net on the right-hand side of the boat, and you will find a catch.' They cast therefore, and then they were not able to haul it in because of the great number of fish. Simon Peter went up, and drew the net to land, full of large fish, a hundred and fifty-three; and although there were so many, the net was not torn."

My Daddy

I've just come in from having lunch with my Daddy and my brother. Remarkable, isn't it? My Daddy and stepmother consider Troy, AL to be "home," but they have a townhouse in Athens, and about every 6 weeks or so, they drive up and stay about a week, connecting with relatives in this part of the state, especially my brother and me.

I went by the townhouse this morning to pick him up, but he insisted on driving because he had a new (to him) Prius and wanted to show off its bells and whistles. He's 83 years old now, but I wasn't even nervous with him at the wheel.

We met my brother in Decatur -- he has worked for 3M Company for 35 years and was "due" an extended lunch -- and had a great time, laughing, teasing each other, and sharing our hearts. It's what we do.

Even though Dad received an honorary doctorate from Mobile College back in the early 1980's, I think I'm the only one who consistently addresses mail to him with "Dr. Tom Collier."

To my children and grandchildren, he is "Gramps."

To hundreds of people who lived on the campus of the Alabama Baptist Children's Home between 1960 and 1990, he's respectfully known as "Mr. Collier."

To former students where he taught, coached basketball, or was the principal, he is "Mr. Collier."

To a huge host of friends and relatives, he's "Tom."

But, to me, he's "Daddy."

My Daddy is an extremely intelligent man. He is particularly good with numbers and a calculator (a trait my daughter Laura inherited), and loves "wheeling and dealing." He'd rather find a bargain than eat the fish that Steve catches and cleans for him, and he LOVES fried fish. :)

My Daddy has been a pillar in the Baptist church for as long as I can remember. His opinion matters to a lot of people, and his wisdom is widely-recognized.

My Daddy plays the piano by ear, and has gotten quite accomplished on his harmonica in recent years. His favorite audiences are folks in nursing homes and his great-grandchildren. He loves getting me to play duets with him, which is something of a feat since he always plays in the key of D-flat. :)

My Daddy's memory is amazing. He prides himself on seeing or hearing of someone from his past and being able to recall the names of everybody in that person's family. He rarely messes up.

My Daddy grew up as the son of a Limestone County sharecropper. I asked him today how many years he worked in the cotton fields, and he said "from the time I could carry a hoe until I got married."

He got both his bachelor's and his master's degrees from Athens College, now Athens State University and was the only one in his family to ever get past high school.

He loved my mother with his whole heart for the 37 1/2 years they were married. A year and a half after she died, he married June Mabray, and they've now been married for 24 years. He has been very blessed in both marriages.

It has been the desire of my heart for my whole life to make my Daddy proud of me, and I know that I will always feel that way.

He doesn't read blogs, so I doubt he'll ever read this, but let me tell YOU. I love my Daddy.

When a Woman Has a Daughter

Probably a more accurate title for this blog would be "When Connie Had Laura and Julie," but somehow I think the themes may apply to more than just what I was dreaming and thinking, so I'll keep it as it is and you can tell me later if you understand.

My children were born before the days of 4-D sonograms and ultrasounds. We got blue things and pink things -- just in case. My husband, who grew up with only a brother as a sibling, somehow thought babies only came in boys, so I couldn't even get him to seriously consider possible names for a girl baby until four days before Laura was born!! I was thrilled and deeply relieved when the doctor announced that we had a girl. See? I told you this was back "in the olden days." A girl. I was a girl, so surely I could be a mother to one. Right?

Laura was named for my mother's best friend growing up, Laura Jean Brookshire, who Mom always described as beautiful in the many stories I heard about her. We chose Katherine for her middle name because it sounded so regal and could be versatile, if necessary -- Katherine, Kate, Kat, Kitty, Katie, depending on how her personality shaped up. You get the idea. When Julie came along 4 years and 50 weeks later, we chose Julie because all of the Julies I'd ever known were wonderful young ladies, and the Rose part came from my mother's maiden name.

Laura Katherine and Julie Rose. Feminine, solid, promising names, don't you think?

Since I've always been "on the prissy side," I assumed they would be prissy, too. I fervently hoped they would be musical, knowing that their Dad's musical claim to fame is his ability to "play the RADIO." :) Much to my delight, they were wonderfully gifted in that area, so besides our gender and genes, we shared another great bond.

They grew up with winsome personalities and delightful femininity. A woman's dream. Or, at least MY dream.

Two important visions took shape in my mind during those years. 1) Being the Mother of the Bride -- with all the rights and privileges of that status, and 2) Being the One My Girls Would Turn to First When Their Babies Were Born. Now I also had a son, don't forget, so I clearly understood the distinction of being the Mother of the Groom and of being the mother-in-law when the babies arrive. But, I must quickly insert here that Katie is the World's Sweetest Daughter-in-Law, and her mother is one of the nicest ladies I've ever met.

My daughters' weddings were spectacular, if I do say so myself. :) With careful planning, I really believe that they were both able to have the day of their dreams WITHIN the budget that we set for them. I absolutely basked in my role as Mother of the Bride both times -- which turned out to be a mere 10 months apart.

Then, the babies started arriving. Julie, who is proving to be an overachiever in that department, gave birth to our first grandchild -- A GIRL -- in 2000. She and her husband and precious Allie Grace actually spent their first few nights out of the hospital at our house, which was a special treat. That sweet baby slept just a few inches from my face during those nights while Julie got some much-needed rest upstairs. I helped Julie learn to bathe Allie, mix formula, and change diapers. Just what the maternal grandmother is supposed to do. Right?

When Laura's first child was born, I was living in Ecuador. Isn't it amazing the twists and turns our lives can take? She and her husband specifically wanted their first few days home with Nathan all to themselves, and that was totally understandable. Different set of parents. Different ages. Different personalities. But, we worked the timing so that I flew in from Ecuador just as her husband was going back to work. I stayed with nearby friends at night, but as soon as I walked into Laura's house each morning, she gratefully handed Nathan to me and headed to her room to sleep and replenish her energy. In both cases, my daughters trusted me implicitly, and it felt so, so good to be needed and to be something of an oasis to both of them when they were just learning this awesome new role. They were then and have continued to develop into exemplary mothers. Our grandchildren are very fortunate little people. "One of these days" they will understand just how blessed they really are.

But, here's the rub. I've never seen the movie "Lemony Snicket's A Series of Unfortunate Events," but that's a great way to describe what happened a few weeks ago when our 9th grandchild arrived. Once again, I was the maternal grandmother, but I did NOT get to be "The One My Girls Would Turn to First When Their Babies Were Born," and I admit I've been pretty bummed about that.

It has taken me awhile to come around to the right perspective, but I think I finally have -- a much better place for me to be emotionally and spiritually -- so NOW I can blog about it.

Steve and I now have 4 grandsons and 5 granddaughters! The blessings just keep multiplying!!! I'm a big believer in having bonding times with these children individually and in small groups. That is where I choose to concentrate my energy. Cousins Camp 2011 will begin on Sunday, July 17th. Steve and I have been planning that week for months. We can't wait. That will certainly merit a blog or two as it unfolds -- or once I can move my typing fingers again after it's over.

I've concluded that bonding times don't just happen, especially since our children don't live very closeby. They have to be planned and savored as the opportunities present themselves. In the picture below, you can see Julie's daughter Maggie, along with Matt's sons Luke and Seth, on each end, and their 2nd cousin Trace. This was made last November when we were in Auburn for the Georgia game and then stayed to hear Matt preach at Lakeview the next morning. Luke, Seth and Maggie will be at Cousins Camp, along with Allie and Nathan.
Another grandchild doesn't know it yet, but she NEEDS some time to bond with Grandmomma. Megan Rose, Laura's daughter, will be coming to North Alabama to stay with her other grandparents while Nathan attends Cousins Camp. I can't let a grandchild come this close and not have some special time with her, now can I? So, Megan and I will have a couple of days and nights together BEFORE the older kids arrive. I think we need to make cookies, go shopping and have a tea party. Don't you?
Look at those gorgeous blue eyes -- both mother and daughter. Enough moaning over what should have happened that didn't. The best antidote is recognizing that I've got grandchildren to love and enjoy. Little Megan (above) lives in Ft. Smith, Arkansas -- 9 hours from Athens, AL. This child is a gift to our family, and I want to know her and delight in her. See you soon, Megan. You and Penelope will be old enough for Cousins Camp next year. And, Rosemary and Sam will be close behind. Where are my vitamins? Maybe I'd better take a double dose!

The Bible says that "Grandchildren are the crown of old men" Proverbs 17:6a. If I had written that Proverb, I would have added . . . "and old women." For today, I think I'll just stop after the word "crown." GRANDCHILDREN ARE THE CROWN. Yep. That's it.

6 Weeks are "In the Books"

To those of you who care and are holding me accountable, I have now finished 6 weeks of my renewed exercise efforts and my attempt to get in shape for a 5k before I turn 62.

In the Not-So-Great-News Category, I really haven't increased my speed much since Week 3, but I have been consistent in going at least THAT speed (which shall remain unspecified at this point).

In the Really-Good-News Category, even though the official Couch to 5k plan calls for three 30+minute workouts per week, a friend told me that her brother, who is a well-respected doctor, said that we should each be getting 150 minutes of aerobic exercise per week. I have walked for MORE than 150 minutes in each of the 6 weeks since I started this program. And -- drum roll, please -- this past week I actually walked for 236 1/2 minutes. Woohoo!!! Another great piece of news is that the calf-burning problem I had in Week 2 seems to have gone away.

In the What-Does-the-Future-Look-Like Category, I have about a week and a half for treadmill-walking before Cousins Camp. During that week, which is a highlight of our entire year, 5 out of the 9 grandchildren will be here, and they will receive mine and Steve's full, undivided attention. Many calories will be burned, however not necessarily on the treadmill. There ARE still 10 1/2 months left in this project, and one week of completely justified interruption will not cause The Goal to disappear.

Right??

Hurray for the treadmill, a quasi-permanent loan from a friend!

Hurray for a comfortable, air-conditioned bonus room where the treadmill lives!

Hurray for great walking shoes!

Hurray for interesting books to read that help me keep walking "just a little bit longer!"

Thanks for keeping up. Expect another report in about 3 weeks.