Birthday Memories

As another year ticks off the calendar and I am about to turn another year older (DON’T ASK!), I have been thinking about what my birthday celebrations have looked like over the years. This year the celebration of another year of life began with lunch with some new friends here in Texas that are honestly becoming family to me. On the big day, I’ll be attending a work conference in San Antonio — so I’ll get to enjoy some good food and a relaxed pace. I’m definitely looking forward to that!

As a child, birthday celebrations were pretty much the same every year. On the Saturday before the big day, Mom would invite some of my friends to our home for a party. The table always featured a chocolate sheet cake that was laden with pre-packaged candy pieces spelling “Happy Birthday.” (Mom wasn’t much of a cake decorator,  so giving my friends and me a sugar rush filled the gap.) There were always gifts — normally the latest electronic toy — and lots of games. These were happy times because I was surrounded by people I loved.

When I moved away from home to attend college, I knew the birthday celebration was going to be much different. I had no idea just how different though. The Alumni Association sold birthday cakes to parents that could be delivered to the student dorm. Mom decided that I needed one my freshman year. It was a nice thought…but that cake was HORRIBLE! It was a chocolate fudge bundt that was drizzled with fudge. It looked great, but once your fork hit the dessert, you knew this was going to end badly. My roommates and I laughed as we broke plastic forks in our effort to eat it. We finally used our hands to break off a few bites to realize that it only looked enticing. We quickly tossed the cement block of cake in the nearby trash.

On the morning of my birthday, I was greeted outside of the piano lab that doubled as the classroom for my 9am theory class by most of my classmates and a plate of cupcakes. I think it was either Stacey or Kari that baked the goodies….and they were SO MUCH BETTER than the horrible cake Mom sent. My colleagues and I had a great time in the hall together that poured into the classroom. I’m not entirely sure how Dr. Cobb felt about our celebration — although I tend to forget most of Dr. Cobb’s reactions anyway. We probably just laughed at his dry attempts at humor. 

As the years continued, birthdays became more and more fun as they involved trips to Red Robin and Pierview with friends. (I still miss sitting at the outside tables overlooking the ocean while munching on a basket of fries!) There were shopping trips and adventures in Westwood. Phone calls from those studying overseas were always a special treat. Birthdays were never about the gifts or the party for me — although the food was always a nice addition. It was always nice to hear from so many people on that one day that have played such an important role in my life. 

All Good Things….

Whether you credit the famous quote to Chaucer or a wise Grandmother, the sentiment still rings true — “All good things must come to an end.” So the end of my extended vacation is finally coming to an end. I will begin the journey back to west Texas on Sunday morning. 

This summer has seen moments of laughter and tears. I was thrilled to find my mother regaining her strength and coming through the first of her scheduled cataract surgeries without complication. (The second surgery is scheduled for Monday morning.) I have laughed with family, friends I miss dearly, and former students. I have watched hopes dashed and trust betrayed. I have cried with some who had to say goodbye to loved ones who were called to their Heavenly reward suddenly. Prayers for healing have filled my home as my parents and I learned of friends young and old who are in the fights of their lives against brutal illnesses. The Geriatric Ward has seen lively discussions, exciting adventures, and plans for the future.  I have struggled with personal health complications related to hands, neck, back, and ankles at various times throughout the summer. My mind has been relaxed as I enjoyed trips to new locales on the pages of treasured books and my spirit has been refreshed as I was able to spend extra time in prayer and study of the Word. All in all, it has been an eventful and fulfilling summer…..but it is now time to get back to work.

As much as I don’t want to leave the Geriatric Ward and the comforts of home right now, I look forward to the adventures that await me in the coming academic year.  Let the adventure begin……

Purple Violets — for Domestic Violence Awareness

10/26/16 – This post first appeared on October 24, 2014. I seldom recycle posts on this blog as a matter of principle, but the topic of this one is far too important to me personally to ignore. When I re-read my feelings about my family’s personal experience with domestic abuse as it appeared on my Facebook post two days ago, I found myself once again feeling all of the rage, anger, betrayal, and fear that I first felt in 2009. Domestic abuse continues to be a national epidemic that crushes women, children, and the families that love them. Although my sister’s bruises have healed that were inflicted upon her by an evil monster, the painful memories continue. For far too long, society has been silent, allowing the perpetrators to quietly hide in the shadows without fear of significant consequences. As October — Domestic Violence Awareness month — comes to an end, I once again share my story as I watched my sister’s struggle in an abusive, horror-filled marriage. My hope is that we will all become advocates for the victims and provide them with loving, safe havens as they traverse the difficult path to freedom and escape from their abusers.  ~KF

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I have struggled with writing this post. Let me warn you from the beginning — this is not going to be pretty. It is important though. Because of that, I refuse to edit myself or attempt to wrap things up in a neat package.

Last week, I participated in a Facebook activity to replace the negativity often found there with images of beautiful flowers. Gerber daisies were chosen as my flower. The next post on my news feed was a purple ribbon, honoring the many women and children in our country who are victims of domestic violence. Since October is Domestic Violence Awareness month, I decided to combine the activities into a single post. Domestic violence has become a personal issue for my family in the last few years. My purple daisy bouquet is for my sister.

In 2009, my sister came forward with the awful truth that she had been the victim of domestic abuse for five years at the hands of her husband who she was now divorcing. In addition to the physical and emotional abuse Carlene suffered, her pain was heightened as she realized that the emotional abuse was also impacting her two young daughters.

The details of Carlene’s ordeal is hers to tell. Truthfully, I’m confident that I only know a portion of the horror and suffering she endured at the hands of the monster she married. What I CAN address are my personal feelings as a family member who also had to deal with the repercussions of the violence she endured.

ANGER!!!! That one word sums up so much of my feelings. I was furious that a man professing Christianity could inflict the bruises that I photographed along my sister’s back and arms. I despised that my nieces had witnessed the violence and lived in constant fear. I fumed as I learned that this arrogant idiot of wasted air attempted to convince people that my sister had inflicted the injuries on herself!

My anger turned to rage as my family had to take significant steps to ensure our personal safety as well as that of Carlene and the girls. The jerk’s abuse continued as he called my mother at work, appeared at our various places of employment, and ultimately began living in the same apartment complex that Carlene settled in in order to continue contact and dominating her life.

As I heard the responses from some in the church to my sister’s situation, I was floored. “You made a commitment for life and need to stay in the marriage and try to work things out.”  “Jesus said to turn the other cheek.”  “He’s just going through a hard time. Things will get better eventually.” I wondered which of these “insightful” people would have offered the same advice if they were living in constant fear. I definitely began to understand why so many victims say that they don’t feel safe confiding in the faith community; with responses like the ones Carlene heard, no one would find comfort or safety there.

Even though my sister gained her freedom from her personal hell over five years ago, I still experience frustration that continues to stem from the abusive relationship. I despise watching my sister struggle financially to make ends meet because the A-hole has failed to pay child support as ordered by the court for at least four years. That leads to other frustrations with Tennessee Child Welfare for not monitoring the situation closely as well as with Carlene for not pressing the issue more. I nearly blow a gasket every time I hear my nieces complain about having to visit the man who provided the sperm that produced them (I’m sorry….he doesn’t deserve to even be referred to as a biological father, in my opinion!); it would appear to a rational person that failure to fulfill a responsibility outlined in the divorce decree (e.g. monthly child support payments) would result in the loss of parental rights and visitation.

When I get incredibly frustrated and upset at the situation that my family finds itself in simply because one man could not appropriately manage his temper, I find myself fantasizing. I fantasize about the day that the state of Tennessee finally notices that child support has not been paid. I dream about the abuser finally spending time behind bars. I wonder what the reception for him will be as other inmates learn of the pain that was inflicted on a woman and innocent children at his hands. I’m not stupid enough to fantasize about inflicting the pain on the idiot myself…..but I wouldn’t mind being a casual observer either!

As you can see, I have no use for this man that I consider the scum of the earth. He didn’t just inflict pain on random people; he violently abused those I love. He made their home a prison. That caused me pain as well. No one should ever have to suffer at the hands of someone who promised “to love, honor, and cherish” them. Sounds like a big lie to me….

So don’t placate me with terms about how I need to find forgiveness. I really don’t want to hear it. All I want is to display these purple daisies as a sign to those who might be dealing with abuse in their own life that they are not alone and that there are some of us who refuse to remain silent any longer. It’s time for the shame many of these victims face to come to an end and for us to place the guilt where it belongs….firmly on the shoulders of the abuser!

No Substitute

I am person of routine. I like things the same way and I tend to use the same products all the time. Occasionally, I find that a substitution is acceptable. To save a little money, I’ll use generic drugs. If the restaurant doesn’t have Coke, I’ll have a Pepsi instead. (I may cringe on the inside, but I’ll still drink the soda.) I’m even okay with substituting a weighted key keyboard for my beloved piano in certain situations. I know…..I know……

But there are some things that simply cannot be substituted. Instant potatoes simply cannot replace the luxurious creaminess of Mom’s whipped potatoes. Not just any blanket will suffice when I’m feeling bad; I need my orange Pepperdine throw to get me through. When I’m having a really bad day (or bad weeks as the case has been lately), nothing and no one can substitute for a comforting conversation with Mom.

I have plenty of good friends who offer hugs and comfort. They know how to make me laugh and genuinely care about me. But their best efforts still don’t come close to a long talk with Mom. You see, my Mom is my best friend. Even though I was her last child, our relationship transformed when I returned home to complete my graduate work. As an adult, I was able to share thoughts and stories while still respecting her role as parent. Mom is also one of the most compassionate people I know. She patiently listens and is able to offer quick insight and wisdom that I may have overlooked in the midst of a stressful situation. I always know that she loves me without question and will always come to my defense and aid when necessary. Probably most comforting to me is the knowledge that my Mom has always been and will always be a prayer warrior. Mom has practiced the art of praying for her children throughout our lives, asking God to protect us from harm when we made less-than-wise decisions and to guide our steps as we looked for the next action to take. I am confident that most of the major points in my life have been covered by the fervent prayers of my loving, Godly mother.

Sitting down with Mom face to face isn’t a possibility at the moment. I have responsibilities in west Texas that don’t permit me to sneak away. My parents aren’t able to make the trip here at the moment — and even if they did, I don’t know that I would have much time to sit with them. So for the moment, I’ll just have to settle for phone calls wedged in between appointments and let that suffice. But I’m definitely getting homesick and looking forward to the next time I get to sit down and have a heart-to-heart talk with her while no one else is around. For now, I’ll just count down the days until late November and my next trip home….. 

How Time Flies

I begin most mornings spending a few minutes with the TimeHop app. I enjoy looking over my posts on various social media sites and reflecting on things for a moment. Today’s reflection centered on the past two years.

This time last year, I was in the early stage of my first semester at Wayland. What was my major struggle? I was dealing with self doubt as I fought my way through an open score. Now, there are days that I WISH an open score was my greatest challenge!

It doesn’t seem possible that two years ago my family was dealing with the news that Dad would have triple bypass in the days ahead and the prognosis was not promising. It’s tough to think about how much that one event colored my life for months as we went through the surgery, struggled with post-op complications, and started the uncertain journey to recovery at home. Now that Dad is living a normal life again, the memories seem so distant. Still, without a doubt, I know that 2014 was a year that forever changed me and my family.

Now I wonder what the future has in store. All I know for certain is that God will be there with me and will continue to prove Himself faithful in every circumstance.

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On the Road Again

If you know my family, it comes as no surprise that the Geriatric patients and I are making our way to Texas today. It’s time to head to southeast Texas to visit family north of Houston. We will spend a quiet week by the lake. Dad will do plenty of fishing. Mom and I will split our time between the couch and the kitchen before returning to Arkansas for the last few weeks of my summer break.

To make this a true vacation, I’m also going to take the week off from blogging. Look for Livin’ Life to return on July 18.

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On the Road Again

Once again, the Geriatric Ward is on on the road. We are enjoying a few days in the great state of Texas……but this time we’re in the Houston area visiting family. It’s still a few weeks before I have to head to the Panhandle. (So much to do…..so much to do……)

In order to enjoy my family and get some needed rest, I’m going to take a break from blogging as well. I’ll return on Monday, July 27 with a double dose of “Hits and Misses” and lots of stories to share from our Geriatric Adventures.

Building Baby’s Library

We are getting excited about the arrival of Baby Boy Brauer around here! Everyone is dreaming and praying as preparations are made. Ever the bibliophiles, Jacqs and I have been joking about building the baby’s library. I’ve sent pictures of sales in local bookstores featuring children’s books. I found myself wondering what must-have books I would want to see in the nursery. That question became the basis for today’s post…..and my list of ten must haves in any nursery.

1.  The Read Aloud Handbook by Jim Trelease. This book is actually for Mom and Dad, but an important foundation piece. I was introduced to the book in my elementary literacy class. Trelease clearly outlines the importance of reading with a child from the earliest days and the impact the activity has on the child’s total development. Most valuable are the graded lists of read aloud books — complete with summaries of the story and publication information. Whenever I find myself asked to read to a group of children, I find myself returning to this resource over and over again.

2. Corduroy by Don Freeman. What childhood is complete without this charming story of a cuddly teddy bear waiting on a department store shelf for the friendship of a child? One of my all-time favorites that I discovered as an adult.

3. The Very Hungry Caterpillar by Eric Carle. Children always enjoy revisiting the adventures of the caterpillar as he eats his way through the pages of the book.

4. The Napping House by Audrey Wood. A great bedtime story that is also very funny. Its repetitive text becomes very rhythmic as the house and everyone in it prepares for a much needed nap. It will definitely put a smile on your child’s face as he drifts to sleep.

5. Goodnight Moon by Margaret Wise Brown. When you need something a little calmer to settle your little one at the end of the day, this is a classic that has been enjoyed by generations of children.

6. I Love You to the Moon and Back by Amelia Hepworth. I love this story and adore the pictures. No matter how old we become, it’s always comforting to be reminded that our parents love us “to the moon and back.” I’ve heard many stories of parents fighting back tears as they read this expression of pure love to their little bears.

7. The Beginner’s Bible: Timeless Children’s Stories by Thomas Nelson Publishing. I’ve read lots of children’s Bible story books over the years, but I tend to always return to this one for the youngest ones who are growing in their faith. The pictures are vivid and bright. The stories are well written and focus on the primary truth of the individual stories while maintaining an appropriate length for the early toddler. It also provides a good introduction to the idea of family devotions for a young family.

8. One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish by Dr. Seuss. I struggled to just pick one of the classic books by Dr. Seuss. The rhythm and repetitive use of language is helpful for language development and builds vocabulary. Who am I kidding? These books maintain a place on nursery bookshelves because they are FUN!

9. Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What Do You See? by Eric Carle. Another classic from this author that children always love. Often becomes an introduction to the game “I Spy.”

10. You Are Special by Max Lucado.  This book is probably most appropriate for an older child (ages 7-12) because of its length and detailed writing. In a world that constantly points out the negative aspects of childhood, the kids we love need to be reminded that they are unique, special, and loved by their family and the Heavenly Father. Lucado’s lovable Wimmicks will warm the heart and open doors for important conversations for many years to come. Go ahead and add it to your child’s bookshelf now; the pictures are amazing and the story can be “told” (rather than read) to younger children when they need a special reminder of just how amazing they are.

What are your must read books to the children in your life? Which books hold special memories from your earliest years? When was the last time you visited your local bookstore or library and sat in the floor of the children’s section? If it’s been too long, I dare you to visit soon….you’ll be very glad that you did!

In Search of My Story

While flipping through television channels recently, I saw a program featuring an interview with Josh Groban. While he is not my favorite singer by any means, I was looking for something musical, so I decided to take a look. That episode was the beginning of my current obsession with TLC’s Who Do You Think You Are.

Who Do You Think You Are follows a new celebrity each week as they explore their family’s genealogy. The stories they uncover are always fascinating and begin to provide answers to their questions. For most of my life, my brother has researched my family genealogy, but I must admit that I’ve never been interested in the stories. My new-found fascination with this television program has me wondering why.

I know very little about my grandparents. My maternal grandmother died when I was only 5; she was the grandmother that was adored by both of my siblings. Although I spent time at the home of my paternal grandparents, I never felt that I was permitted to know them intimately since I wasn’t one of the “favored” grandchildren. So I never felt I really belonged.

I think a major reason that the family history has never interested me has been due to my feeling that all the information seems to be about the branches of the family tree rather than clearly defining our family roots. When I begin to hear stories about my parents’ aunts, uncles, and distant relatives (third cousins, twice removed), I know it’s interesting to them, but it’s not really telling my story. I suppose that I’m mostly interested in the parent to child line — the pedigree line. See, I’m more interested in going back in time to those men and women from whom I descended rather than connecting with distant relatives that don’t share common experiences with me. I really hope that doesn’t sound like I don’t care about family connections; that’s not the case at all. But third cousins, twice removed is really beginning to stretch the definition of “family” in my book.

I’m also realizing that I’m more interested in examining facts based on documents and primary sources rather than family anecdotes. Perhaps there won’t be many of these records since (I think) most of my family were Arkansas farmers. Still, there must be records of land acquisition and other business transactions. The likelihood that all of my ancestors came from Arkansas seems highly improbable. Those are the stories that I want to know…..how did we come to be in this place and where did our family come from? Once I’ve established how we came to this….and even to this nation…then I may become more interested in the individual stories, but I don’t want to allow myself to get bogged down in those details at this early stage of my research.

I don’t know what I’ll find…and I honestly don’t know what I’m looking for…but I want to know more of my story. Those who went before me have made an impact on how I came to be at this place in this time and what my life has become. The researcher in me is ready to begin looking to see what I can discover. Who knows where it may lead?

Easter Egg Hunting

As a child, Easter was always an exciting day. It signaled the end of cold weather. It suggested that summer vacation was quickly approaching. The day’s events were very predictable too. My family would attend church together before the kids would participate in the annual egg hunt. In addition to colorfully dyed eggs, there were plastic eggs filled with money to be found. The lucky golden egg would lead to a chocolate bunny prize….the perfect recipe for an Easter afternoon sugar rush!

Once I survived the torture of an afternoon family meal, I began the process of begging and pleading for someone to take my stash of Easter eggs and hide them again. The only stipulation was that the eggs had to be hidden really well so I would have to work very hard to find them.

Did I mention that I was not terribly good at finding Easter eggs? Inevitably, no one would remember how many eggs were hidden or where they had all been hidden. I always managed to miss one or two eggs. Frantic conversations would follow…..Did you find the one in the tree? What about the one next to the rock? In the drainage pipe? After we had exhausted our memory, we convinced ourselves that we had retrieved all of the eggs…..until our noses helped us locate the forgotten treasures in the next few days. What a stink!

This year, Easter won’t include an egg hunt in the front yard. But it will always include fond memories of searches for hidden treasures. Thankfully, the greatest treasures of those Easter afternoons were the memories that I now hold in my heart.