The first Mother’s Day after my mom passed away, this girl was producing a northwest Indiana show for Mother’s Day called Listen to Your Mother. She invited me and I declined. I was appreciative and wanted to support her, but I didn’t think I could deal with the emotions. She emailed a few days later and asked if Phil would be an usher at the show. I asked him and he said yes. (sneaky girl. I love you for that.)
So many of my friends were there that night and I felt loved and I loved them and it was good for my heart.
Fast forward to a few weeks ago. I was urged to submit something for the Eastern Iowa show and with moving and the chaos, I just didn’t think I could add one more thing to my plate. But then, one morning right after we moved in, I was looking in the backyard of our new home and I saw some lilac bushes I’d never noticed and I wrote it. I cried and I wrote it. Then I sent it without even thinking I’d ever be chosen.
But I got the email and the announcements are made and there is my name. I will (somehow) be reading my story on stage. I’m not a stranger to the stage, that’s not the intimidating part. It’s the part where my emotions will be uncontrolled trying to tell my story. So far, I can’t even *think* of reading it without crying let alone actually reading it. It’s probably one of the most emotional pieces I’ve ever written. (deep breath.)
We booked a murder mystery weekend at the Rawhide Ranch in Nashville, IN (the famous Brown County.) We went two days early. I’m so glad we did, on Thursday we had the entire ranch to ourselves.
I woke before the sun came up, made coffee and waited…to capture this:
And because I can’t resist fences:
Late Friday night some other guests arrived early, but they weren’t seen by us as they dropped their bags off and left only to return after we’d went to sleep. Saturday was the big day. Horseback riding and then a murder mystery dinner.
You know me, right? I took all kinds of photos of the horses, but not one single shot of the murder mystery. Priorities.
Here’s a couple of my favorites.
After the horseback ride with the snow gently falling, we went back to the ranch, warmed up, changed into our black tie outfits and attended a charity auction in Paris for our murder mystery dinner. And Phil was the murderer!
The weekend ended way too soon. We had a great time and made a great friend (Shoutout to Derek–property manager of Rawhide Ranch, fellow photographer, and host extraordinaire!)
I need to do this today. I had originally intended to post all the CRAP that’s happening, but what’s the point? I sent an email to one of my bloggy friends and then realized that even though there’s so much wrong, there’s also a lot that’s right.
My husband loves me and I love him. Today, that’s a big deal. When so many other couples are divorcing or are complacent and uncaring, I am grateful for Phil. What you see is what you get with us, I talk about him all the time because he’s so much a part of me. I’m not sure I would have the strength to go on without him. Y’know that song Johnny and June? Well, not just the song, but the Johnny and June love story? (“…and when you’re gone, I wanna go too, like Johnny and June…”) Yeah, that’s us minus singing careers. It was rough in the beginning, but it’s always been stronger than we’re able to explain.
My son. He’ll be nine on Saturday. Nine! Goodness how did that much time go by? He’s turning into his father (which pleases me to no end.) He’s such a good kid. Sensitive to people’s needs, caring, loving, funny–man is the kid funny. For example, yesterday he says, “When you see RIP on a tombstone, it’s Rest In Peace. If a Lego guy died, it would have to be Rest In Pieces.”
Our health, I mean, aside from bumps, sprains, bruises and such, we’re pretty healthy people. Phil’s got high blood pressure, I’ve got this (as of yet unfixed) hypothyroidism but those are totally treatable and minor in comparison to things I don’t want to talk about.
We have families who love us.
We still have our home.
Phil still has a job.
We’ve got the best friends anyone could ask for.
There’s food on the table and clothes on our backs.
We’re really not that bad off. And I need to remind myself because I’m sure I’m in the midst of a big ole rootin’ tootin’ spiritual battle. I’ve walked in this fire before, I remember what it feels like to try to continue walking with those unhealed blisters on the bottom of my feet. It’s not fun, but I understand it’s a part of walking with Christ.
Feet are important this time, I’m trying to figure it all out.
Feet walk, run, jump, play, bend, twist. Feet are the foundation of our walk.
Any other valuable foot notes? 😉 Pun totally intended.