Nora's Cents

Nora's got good sense. 

The girl is organized, every Build-a-Bear in his or her customized box, little clothes packed in tightly, ready for wild play at a moments notice.

Nora is a shining example of maturity and planning.

Got a big day of softball practice on Thursday?  Why not get your clothes ready on Monday?

Friends, she did not get this from me.

She's a bit of a bag lady with an eye for anything that holds "stuff" and has handles.

She has seven backpacks.

They are packed.

I don't know what's in the backpacks.

Nora knows.

As you can imagine, she doesn't switch gears easily.

She saves her money.  She has a plan.

She's seven.

She considers her priorities.  Seriously.  Softball over events at the library.  Mommy over almost everything. Except the Daddy-Daughter Dance.  Daddy-Daughter Dance takes precedence over most everything else.

Once she has decided, she is amazingly stubborn persistent.  She once saved up to buy her brother a birthday present.

She had FORTY dollars.

I refused to let her spend FORTY dollars on her nine-year-old brother.  After all, I couldn't let her outdo her father and me.  We had it out all the way to tears right there in the Lego aisle at Target.

A time came when she wanted something.  Probably a trip to Build-a-Bear, which is not something to undertake when you're light in the wallet.

I asked her how much money she had to spend.

Nora brought her little brown purse to me, the one with the red flower clipped to the handle.  She had the biggest smile on her face as she opened her purse to show me.

It was empty.

Her small voice, "Momma, you know how the church was collecting for those missionaries?"

"I've been giving them my cents."

"I gave them all my cents."  And she hopped.


Without a thought, without regret and without involvement or interference from her parents.

Because someone needed what she could give.

Nora's got good sense.  She may, or may not, have lots of cents but that doesn't matter.


and a child shall lead the way,
m

For more on the story that inspired Nora to give all her cents, 
read Luke 21:1-4.

More like this?

Nathan and the Bell Ringers
Superman's Secret Identity Revealed
Daughter of Elisha

When a Friend is Generous, even though you're leaving

I wonder if he even knew what he was doing when he gave Bob that bow.

We weren't there all that long but we had some good friends in Rocky Mount.  Tom and Susan are good people. The first time I met them, they were giving.  Giving their time, advice and stuff.  They gave us floats at the beach, told us the best places to go and treated us to an evening of fishing.

Tom and Susan are simply kind and they are the kind of people I aspire to be when I grow up and quit being so selfish.  They think of other people.

They give no consideration to what they might get out of the deal.

Susan supported my little business at the farmers' market.  Tom helped Bob fix our cars.  They had us over and fed our kids. There are other things, too, and they were in it together.  Both of them making the world a better place.

I wonder if Tom even realized what would come of giving Bob that bow.

As we approached our 1,280 mile relocation, Bob, always an outdoors kind of guy discovered that archery is big here in Oklahoma.

Tom had two bows.  The day before we left, he and Susan brought one over and had Bob try it out.  Said he couldn't use two, or maybe that was Susan that said that.  Anyway, Bob made more room on the truck and we left North Carolina with a great bow packed carefully in our caravan.

Ten is moody these days.  He doesn't seem to want to do anything except play Mindlesscraft.*

*Names of PC games have been changed to give me a sarcastic outlet while protecting me from some law I have yet to learn about.

With all of this talk of bows and a visit to the archery shop, Ten expressed an interest in a recurve bow.  Said he might want to check out the local youth club that trains in Olympic style archery.

Bob got that boy a bow, a nice one.  You see, we only had to buy one.

They go shoot most Tuesday evenings and on Saturday mornings.  They shoot for hours, that dad and his boy.  Ten is pleased with how his muscles are growing across those boy shoulders of his.  He is pleased with how it seems to come naturally.

Bob and the boy talk about fletchings and anchor points and "splitting your arrows in twain" and we all laugh.

Sometimes Eight goes with them on Saturday mornings and he shoots too.  My daughter and I don't see them for hours and we do our own things.  At the playground Eight crosses the monkey bars and rings incessantly so his shoulders will get strong enough to pull back a bigger bow.

Those boys have taken a big leap off the couch toward being little men and they talk with their daddy and they learn to control themselves and they learn how an arrow flies through the air and they learn how to be considerate of others so that you don't shoot them.  Really.

They learn how to talk to each other.

One day Ten shot with Grandad and he began to learn to listen because this isn't Mindlesscraft but there are points at the end of those arrows.

You are going to leave a legacy.  Your arrow is going to fly, so take aim and aim well and aim high.

Tom, thank you for giving Bob that bow, and for being his friend.

Susan, thank you for being kind when I was a stranger.

gratefully,
m

This is another post in the Bloom Where You're Planted series.  If you only read a few others, pick these...
Bloom Where You're Planted
Love Does, our story
Do the Next Thing
Pecans Come from Pecan Trees, or the nut really doesn't fall far from the tree

small time

Taking a five-minute party break with Lisa Jo Baker this Friday.  Want to know more?  Check it out at: Five-Miinute-Friday.  It's Lisa Jo's party and she gets to pick.  Today she inspires us to write about one thing: small.  It amazes me how folks can interpret one word so many ways.  Click around at Lisa Jo's page and read what other people wrote. As for me, here, have a small piece of my heart.

Small time girl, grown up to be a small time woman.  I'm good with that.  Don't want attention, really, just can't quit talking here on this page.  Enjoying the idea that there are other women out there like little ol' me.

Small town girl, going from one small town to another.  Love livin' where you don't need a cell phone to find somebody.  There are only three places to go.  If your friend isn't home, she's at the grocery or Sonic.  Check your watch and take a guess...Sonic has a happy hour at 2PM.

Small hearts, can they grow big?  Sometimes it doesn't feel like it.  I fuss small words in a big voice and I wonder how my heart got so hard.  Dr. Seuss says the heart of the grinch grew two sizes one day and we all know the wisdom of Dr. Seuss.  Maybe there is at least small hope for me.

Small days, trapping me here in this home.  Trapping me here until I remember what I believe, that this is no small thing that I do, mothering these kids and loving this man and building this home with the hands of my soul.  Big, beautiful, small days.

Small gifts.  Little boxes with big things inside.  Small gifts might just be the best gifts of all.

loving the small,
m

More?
Blessedly Ordinary
More from Five-Minute-Friday: Fall
For your friends, "I Wanna Be Like You"

Gifts from Cape Hatteras

Last summer our family went on a vacation.  It was a miracle.  We almost never go on vacation.  We saved and we planned and we went and it was beautiful.  

Now, during this summer of craziness and stuck inside, we pack and a child heals and we save and we plan, and I return to those pictures and those memories.  I reopen the gifts of Cape Hatteras.

The Gifts:

Relax.  Just sit.  Soak up the good feelings when they come.  Just sit and be empty and be full, both at the same time.

Say "Why not?" way more often than you say, "Why?"

Creation is really, really awesome.  Creation is not tame or safe but it is in-your-soul-beautiful.

Squirrels can crawl under the edges of mosquito tents and eat your bread. They like butter cake but not caramel frosting.  Just thought you should know.

Run and play and don't care how you look.  Floppy hat, floppy shoes, floppy butt, nobody cares just run and play.

Making really fabulous memories doesn't have to cost a bunch of money.  We tent camped on Hatteras Island, which is almost 30 miles out into the Atlantic and only a few feet above sea level. We were sort of perched out in the ocean in a tent and the wonder of being in it all was thrown in for free!

Don't be surprised when the rain comes.  You don't have to be afraid, just get in a tent if you can and plug the leaks with whatever you have.  Find a bright side in the situation, like eating the s'mores supplies even though it isn't perfect.

Don't let it ruin your trip if a crab bites your heel.  However, if he is edible, eat him.  That's what he gets for not being properly subdued by mankind.

Life doesn't have to be perfect.  Don't miss out because you are waiting for everything to be just the way you planned.  You will make the others in your circle miserable but you won't make perfection.

There are times when your hair (or whatever) just doesn't matter at all.  Let it go.

Respect the sun.

Take the best part.  Give up on having everything and just take the best part.

People are nicer than you think and people really do need people.  Real people, in person, to eat ice cream with and tell stories with and ride boats with and it doesn't hurt at all to be friendly.

You never know which little wave is going to move something really big.  Most of the really big stuff starts with one little action.  Islands shift one little wave at a time.

Be grateful when you get to see one of THOSE moments.  My son, Nathan, was afraid of the water.  He was sitting on a boogie board on the wet sand and a big wave came.  Those inches of water picked him up AND HE RODE several feet.  I saw it in his eyes.  That wave washed away fear and replaced it with potential and we had to drag that boy away from that beach.  He asked for swimming lessons last fall and I am pretty sure he has grown gills.  I watched that moment.

You have to be watching to see those moments.


Thank you Cape Hatteras, we are grateful for your gifts,
m

Other posts you might like:
More about Nathan...
When ordinary is a gift...
Our adventure at Tough Mudder

Iron Sharpens Iron...I Wanna Be Like You...

You have someone you admire, right?

Where my life is right now, I don’t spend much time around other adults.  I spend every waking moment with people, but the oldest is nine.  This does not sharpen my iron, if you know what I mean.

So, in an effort to meditate on all things good and lovely, I want to tell you about some of my friends.  Friends I admire very much.  Of course, other people are not our ultimate model but we each have gifts, shadows of perfection lived out in practical daily life.  When we live out our gifts in front of each other, it lifts all of us up.  Iron sharpens iron and we all become better for it.

For Michelle, 

I want to be like you in your transparency.  There is no guile or misleading in you and though you are reserved, you let people see you.  This gives me great courage for myself, courage to let others see me, my heart, my dreams, and my struggles.  Most of all when you hosted that group of moms, you were transparent to us, and in your transparency, I saw a friend, a friend that I very much needed.  Your very transparency showed me that I was not alone.  I hope one day I can be like you…

For Kristi, 

Oh girl, how you persevere.  The events in your life would fill a trilogy of books and I don’t even know if anyone would believe they all happened to one person.  Well, perhaps Job would believe.  And like Job, you lifted your eyes upward, you blessed and looked for blessings and sister, you found them where a less faithful woman would have found only questions and pain.  By surrendering so much, you found even more.  And one other thing, how did you face such trials and still look outside at the rest of us, care for the rest of us, give to the rest of us?  So many times I sat by your side whining and you listened, and you cared and you gave.  Oh girl, I wanna be like you…

For Sharilee, 

I wish I had your gentleness.  You are so gentle of voice and touch, reserved and yet when you laugh, you fill the air around you with joy.  I have heard you fuss a kid out, making your point and wielding your authority as a mom, while using tones appropriate for a library.  Even more imprinted on my mind is your devotion.  You have done so much for your kids and family, always thinking of those around you and making them know your devotion to them.  Even when we were in grade school, you talked and lived family.  As a side note, you are the kind of girl I hope my daughter grows up to be…completely beautiful and feminine but able to hit really hard when you have to…I wish I were more like you…

This is for you, Laura.  

You set a great example, very powerful and far reaching, when you sat in your office and said (way before Nike) that when there was something to do, just do it.  And you lived it.  Time to get a project done, just do it.  Got a long drive, just do it.  Need to get your car fixed? Clean the cat box? Buy a house? Just do it.  I think of this almost daily and I don’t even think you would remember it.  As for me, can’t get pregnant without going through hell?  Just do it.  Have to move again?  Just do it.  Another toilet to clean?  Just do it.  You inspire me to quit making excuses and just do what needs to be done with grace and intelligence.  Elle, I have always wanted to be like you.

Kirsten, this is for you. 

I believe that you are completely without selfishness.  Never seen anything quite like you.  I have heard people say that so and so would give the shirt off their back but I think you would really do it and then throw in everything else in your closet.  And you pay attention to people around you so that you can give them, not just a shirt, but the kind of shirt they would like most.  It seems to me that you are always on the lookout for a way that you can give to someone.  And it isn’t just stuff, but you give YOU.  Your time and energy, all given just because someone asks and you give it cheerfully.  I miss our walks and hope to grow up to be more like you…

For you Tamara, 

I love the air of peace that surrounds you.  Now this is going to be hard to explain but here goes.  You, your home, your children, your hospitality…it is all filled with peace.  I don’t mean that it isn’t wild, how could a home with a school and all those kids and kitties and driving not be wild.  But YOU, are peaceful.  When you had all of us over for an evening of talk and comfort and food, you made a place of peace.  No worries, obligations, shoulds or oughts.  A place where we could just be and as your kids came and went, there was peace, an absence of strife or angst.  As I grew to know you that seemed to be how you approached challenges that would make my heart race…with peace.  If trials entered your life, you prayed and moved ahead, with peace.  Tamara, I hope to be like you, a peacemaker…maker of peace.

Kathy, 

I am writing this because I hope you know that when I think of you, I always think of, well…good.  Though we live far away, we made lots of memories together and when I think back, I am struck by how much good you did.  You chose to do good things, not because of what you could gain, prestige, popularity, materials for college applications, but because those things were good.  While I was trying to figure out who I was and what I wanted to do, you did good to those around you.  You invited friendship with a new girl for no reason that I can imagine except that your heart is so good.   While I struggled with right and wrong, you just did the right, kind, grown up things without judging me.  One day Kathy, I hope to have a heart as good as you do…

This is for you Sandy, 

because you inspire focus and excellence and pursuit of your dreams.  I am so glad we were roommates in college.  You inspired me to diligence and to be more than just good enough but to strive for excellence.  And then there is the pursuit of your dreams.  How often I have labored under the obligation to do what I thought I should do but neglected my dreams and gifts.  And then you come along and start your own Pilates studio, making your dream a reality powered by gifts that I well know you possessed when we were in college.  Thank you Sandy, your example of focus, excellence and pursuit of your dreams fuels the genesis of one of my own…and so I write because I want to be like you, realizing a dream.

These things I have written, I don’t even know if my friends know this is how I feel.  These things, they are simple and short but don’t you think these beautiful women ought to know this is what others see in them?  Don’t you think they ought to know how they mold me, sharpen me?  I bet these little things I wrote today would fit on a postcard or in an email.  Let’s do it, let’s transparently and gently do something good and give to our friends, maybe a moment of excellent peace by writing or calling and simply say…I wanna be like you.

Thank you,

Michele


other posts you might like...

Superman's Secret Identity Revealed
My Name is Butmommy
Confessions of a Reformed Helicopter Parent

"Sure!"

Most of us have people in our lives that inspire us.  Maybe it's just something about them, their attitude, work ethic, kindness, and you find yourself thinking, "I wish I were more like..."

I actually have lots of people like that and I plan to tell you about them in the next post, but for now I want to share just one.

Someone who is very close to me.  He's eight and his name is Nathan.

I write about Nathan quite a bit, not because I love him more than the other two kids, but because he surprises me so often, probably because we are so different.

Some examples:

Me - closed personality, not great at sharing
Nathan - shares a lot

Me - type A personality, with organized canned goods in the pantry
Nathan - tons of favorite things crammed so full into his shelves that they fall out onto his bed where he sleeps with them even though they are sharp and pointy (i.e. Legos)

Me - completely self-conscious about everything from my appearance to my words
Nathan - comfortable with everyone he meets and totally unaware of whether he is even wearing clothes

Me - plans everything including play time
Nathan - life is playtime

Me - multitasking to the point of total ineffectiveness
Nathan - completely immersed in whatever is in front of him

My normal response to other people is, at best, "let me think" and often, "not right now."

Nathan's usual response to other people?

"Sure!"

He says it with a casual tone of voice, real quick like the word is accustomed to jumping out of his mouth.  I love to hear it.  Almost every time, I stop for a few seconds.

I think to myself, "I want to be more like THAT."

"Momma, can I have some of your popcorn?"
"Hmmm, I'll have to think."  or "Sure!"

"Michele, can you give me a quick haircut?"
"Really, today?" or "Sure!"

"Momma, you want to play with us?"
"Not today, I have to clean." or "Sure!"

You think Martha's sister, Mary, from the bible was like Nathan? Was Martha like me?

Jesus: "You guys want to spend some time together?"
Martha: "I WISH I could but I HAVE got to COOK in here!"
Mary: "Sure!"

I think Nathan's way is more fun.  I think Nathan's way would be better for the hearts around us.

Do I want to be more like Nathan?

Sure!

surely,
m

Such as These...Nathan and the Bell Ringers

Okay, so I am going about the mundane things of life during the holiday season.  The swanky grocery store in this small town has those red buckets with bell ringers at both entrances.  We don’t go to the swanky store all the time, just for small things that the more affordable store doesn’t carry.

I admit, I am getting lost in the hustle, trying to hold onto the reason for the season but things are getting a little overwhelming.  To many places to be, a few too many gift exchanges, a blessedly busy hobby and one kid that has been sick long enough that it nags at the heart of this mom and dad.

Here there and everywhere and in a glow of Christmas Spirit, I decide not to pass the bell ringer with just a smile but here, let me dig out my change.  There is a bunch of it weighing down my purse anyway, right?  The kids love putting the change in the bucket and maybe if they observe me giving, they will grow up giving too.  Right?

A few days later and that swanky store is right next to the post office which makes it handy.  Another friendly bell ringer and I think, glowing warmly inside, “I will just try to give something every time we come by, isn’t that a noble goal?”  Yes, noble, and I dig in my purse while surely a mother in some part of the world is watching her cold, hungry kiddo, wishing she had my change.

And another trip or two and the change keeps on coming, handing it out to three happy kids who stuff  it into the red bucket while the bell ringer smiles and says, “Merry Christmas, every bit helps.”  Are they trained to stay cheerful in the face of so many that walk on by?

So, a week ago, on Friday, a friend of my children happens to give a Christmas card to my boys.  In the card is two dollars for Nathan.  We get in the car and ride the two minutes to the swanky store.  I just have to run in and get milk and bread. As we pull in, we pass the bell ringers, two men chatting by the red bucket.  I park, grab my purse and start digging out change…let’s give something each time we go in, you know?

From the back seat, the uncontainable sound of a joyful voice, “I KNOW.  I can give them my two dollars.”

Distracted by trying to dig out quarters, nickels and pennies, “Are you SURE you want to do that?  I have change that you can give…”

“I can give my two dollars!  They need real money too!  I want to.”

I begin, “Are you…” then something, surely not my own heart, but something, stops me and I fight misty eyes and I tell him that would be wonderful.  For once I understand not to steal his joy and what a beautiful, simple joy it is and I remember words, words about a kingdom for such as these, words about not hindering the children to come to Him.

This boy, who always has a list of Legos that he’s saving up for, this boy who has had this found money for less than five minutes, is giving it away because they need money, too.  And he runs up to the red bucket and stuffs his two dollars in before I can even get there with the other kids and the bell ringers, they thank him.  But I have a problem, watching this giving joy pour out of him and knowing that boy the way I do, and I am nearly crying in front of the HT.  So, I try to explain and I want them to understand because this kid didn’t give money from his momma’s purse, he gave his own two mites that he had only two minutes.

These two bell ringers, men older than me by a bit, with their friendly faces, they see my feelings on my face and they see his pure smile and he’s hopping next to the bucket.  They pause and they try to convey that they know how really cool this moment is…and we say goodbye and we go inside.

Milk and bread and life goes on and I am treasuring these things in my heart.

We head out the door and those bell ringers, they stop us and ask his name.  Nathan can’t answer. His mouth is full of free sugar cookies from the balloon station.  They can’t leave their bucket but they have paused in their ringing and they want to talk to him, to make an impression on him like he has made an impression on them and they say so.

They tell Nathan that he has touched their hearts, giving all of his brand new two dollars, these two men giving their time because they must be the kind of people whose hearts are already touched enough to be spending an afternoon in the air ringing a bell and watching people like me scoot by or explain that they don’t carry cash anymore.

They have it ready, a $5 bill for each of my children and I don’t know how to handle this and I point at the bucket because I am tearing up again and they make it clear that they want these kids to have something for themselves.  Those men give Nathan the money and ask him to hand it out to his brother and sister and he does so, dutifully, unaffected by his sudden increase in wealth and his mouth still full of sugar cookie. They explain that they want Nathan to know that he touched them that day and they are pleased to meet all three of them and I am still not sure about the money but again, something stops me and I think I should not mess with this moment but let it be.

At home I call Nathan to me and I ask him if he understands the consequences of his gift.  I tell him that his sweet heart and his two dollars blessed me.  Then it blessed those men enough that they wanted to give back and I am sure that whatever they wanted to put in the bucket is right there in the bucket.  Their giving blessed Nathan and Robert and Nora and it isn’t even about money but about the heart.

I don’t know what Nathan will do with their gift but I know that my heart grew two sizes that day.

Merry Christmas

Michele