Seven teens and the Smurf movie

I smurf these kids. They made my summer. And even Josh, the youngest, says he'll never forget the night Aunt Susan got everyone to wear blue t-shirts at a 10pm showing of the Smurf movie.

[Truth: It was a 9:30 pm showing. But Josh insists on counting it as 10pm.]

Growing up, we traveled during the summer. This Delta pilot's daughter set foot in several European countries and saw her Hawaiian birth place more than once before leaving for college. Flying about was the norm. Sitting still was not. And I loved it.

A lack of finances limited travel when my boys were young. Unreliable legs and fatigue keep me home now. So by summer's end, after months of rest and rehab from a busy spring, I get edgy and dream of adventure. A trip to White Water would satisfy at this point, but I can't climb enough stairs to justify the price.

So as Nathan's departure for college drew close a few weeks ago, I felt crazed by the fact we hadn't made much of a family memory. I about gave up and then God wrote one for me.

Nathan returned from a family reunion he attended with my mom in Pennsylvania (only three days before he left for UGA) with tales of late night UNO and unconventional rules. Audrey, a friend of Sam's whose mom died this summer, expressed interest in joining us to reenact those games. Within 24 hours, my house filled with almost a dozen teens who gathered for White Chili, brownies, and crazy games.

I love a good party. The chatter. The laughter. Life buzzing in my home.

As the day came to an end, we started brain storming for one last outrageous something. We thought about singing in Walmart but my hip hurt too much for me to walk far. So we researched movies and found the Smurf movie offered the best times and locations. Since none of us would ever have opted to see that movie on a night we weren't vying for the outrageous, it worked. We considered buying blue paint to color our faces, but didn't have time. When I mentioned the t-shirt potential, Sam ran upstairs and dug through his t-shirt stash and found seven blue t-shirts, enough for all to wear. That was outrageous enough for me.

We sat in a row, all eight of us dressed in blue, and watched the Smurfs take on Manhattan. And after the blue characters found their way home, my family even let me take a photo.

So I smurf these kids. On this last day of August, I still really smurf these kids.

"Life gives us brief moments with another... but sometimes in those brief moments we get memories that last a lifetime." Author Unknown

The Day After

We did it. And I feel a deep smile inside.

Sam and I loaded a rental van with Nathan's belongings and drove them to Athens yesterday. Between the three of us, everything made it to his room in his new apartment in almost mint condition.

A few weeks ago, I decided to rent a vehicle for Nathan's move back to school since I began to wonder if a mini SUV type ride would be easier for my bad leg to maneuver. I drove one for a few months last fall and have had more trouble driving since changing back to a compact car. So I decided to take on the move with the different car to test my leg. It proved a worth while experiment.

The nuance of change helped.

I didn't get a mini SUV due to a mix up at the rental place. But sitting tall in the driver's seat of a new Chrysler van proved the same point. The change in position relieved the stress my ankle doesn't manage well. The main point here: change relieved stress.

I often think of change creating stress. But sometimes change diffuses the very pressure we can't seem to let go of ourselves. Or at least that's what I'm thinking today, the day after I moved my oldest son into his first apartment.

He needs to fly, to bust loose, to leave this place called home. Because if he stayed, the pressure would build.

So Sam and I packed it all up, drove to the new place, and even smiled when we were done. And today I'll thank God for change, and growth, and good things to come.

Figuring Things Out

This is a picture of Nathan and me taken on his 19th birthday after a concert at UGA last spring. He performed his first solo that night and blew all my musical fuses.

I drove him to college for the first time a year ago this weekend - and just took him back again yesterday. It was goodbye again - which has me reminiscing.

When I came home last year, I filled a new prescription and swallowed a medicine that changed my life for about two months. Leucovorin raised the metabolized folic acid levels in my spinal fluid, helping my legs work like well oiled hinges - better than they had in five years.

Sorrow and joy together again.

As I adjusted to Nathan's absence, my body adjusted to the meds. They were still helpful, but they weren't quite full proof. Truth is, damage from my fall in 09' might be the reason I ended up reaching for my cane again last January (and leaning on it to make it through concert day with Nate). Regardless, as the year went by, I went from thinking I could rebuild muscle strength and live with my sickness on the back burner to accepting it impacts every day and almost every decision I make.

Years ago, I wrote to capture God's fingerprint in my day to day single parent life. I often recounted action stories, involving my two young boys. I've struggled to write ever since I remarried five years ago and at times blamed that change for my loss of words.

Somewhere in the last month, however, I figured out that medical drama isn't nearly as much fun to write about as elementary boy antics. And since the last five years have contained a lot of medical drama, it's just been hard to write.

But after meeting the "smell the color nine" moms, I realize there's an underworld of folks battling chronic illness like me. And while I never planned to share my experiences as a widowed, single mom, I never contemplated having an impact as a disabled writer either.

But that's what I am. And if I can stop apologizing for it and just accept it, I might actually write a few things worth reading.

Nathan's in a hotel in Athens for the weekend during band camp prep. When his apartment's ready, I plan to help him move in. I'm home resting, hoping the nerves in my foot calm down so the drive won't be so painful. And I skipped out on a visit to Don's family farm in south GA this weekend because I knew too much car vibration would further irritate said nerves, limiting the little help I can be later this week.

See? Every choice has to be weighed. And when Don and Sam left today, my heart was sad. Car vibrations - too much? It sounds crazy. Yet if you walked on my foot you'd understand.

When I've written about this stuff before, I've felt like a whiner. Today, I write to commiserate with others who live with less than desirable limitations. You're out there. I'm not alone.

While our hearts continue to grieve on some level, I know this is true, "Lord you assigned me my portion and my cup; you have made my lot secure. The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; surely I have a delightful inheritance." (Ps. 16:5-6)

And so I will write.