Builder's Grade

My son-in-law, Chuck, is a big man.  In contrast however, Leo is a BIG dog.  Two of my sons-in-law, both Chuck and Preston regularly attend church with us, yesterday both of them anchoring the row I was sitting on, kids in front of me and behind me.  Tell me that, two successful men, doesn't speak volumes to my sons?

We are now down to two kitchen tables in our L-shaped kitchen, one seats six, the other eight.  In a minor flash of brilliance yesterday, I pushed the two together merging as one long table, where the old kitchen island used to be.  A massive piece of furniture that was destroyed in its first ten years of existence.  Who does that?  Yet another unintended casualty resulting from the adoption of traumatized children.  I completely emptied the other end of the L.

"What're you gonna do with all this empty space," my kids asked suspiciously in their usual, predictable alarm spasms. As if...many scenarios might be bouncing through their minds, but I'm simply enjoying a vast empty space in which to simply breathe better.

"Bet she puts bunch of big ole plants there," JoJo solemnly explained the obvious to the others while making monkey faces.

Yeah, maybe son, but I need a skylight and solar power first, my mind churning with possibilities.

Grandma often eats dinner with us, another facet, or layer, to multi-generational dining, another nail in their emotional security box in our overly wired yet emotionally distant, society.  I've banned cell phones at the table, including my own, but I'm not gonna be a raging hall monitor about it.

"Don't join us for dinner if you'd prefer to text," I suggested.  Reverse psychology that visibly set paranoia in motion. I suppressed a grin that was bubbling up from within me.

I know that as a mother to 39 I need to be constantly available by phone, yet turning off the email or text alerts, or just walking away from the dang thing for a few moments a day eases my own tension, stress, and my weirdly acquired hyper vigilance.  However then my other kids get phone calls, "Tell Mom to answer her phone," they'll be blasted.

I broke the bank and spent $9.98 on a hot air popcorn popper yesterday - me with an unused appliance?  Who knew?  Popcorn is my crack addiction.

Our 7 day forecast includes quite a warm up, I've not repainted the first wall this winter, now I'm considering painting one of these kitchen tables to better match the other...or maybe when the kids go to school this morning I'll finish reading Larry Burkett's - one of my earliest personal finance teachers - book on his cancer journey.

For years after my sister died I couldn't bear to read anything such as this, now almost 17 years have passed and I'm able to read without second guessing her own battle, this man survived his cancer battle only to later succumb to a heart attack.  I'd listened to his radio program for years and read all of his other books, so I'm always fascinated by his thoughts.

I shudder to think where my personal money management skill set would've been without his early and profound influence upon me.  Dave Ramsey often credits Larry Burkett as being a main influence on him as well.  I clicked over to CNN money section this morning, as I always do, reading much, comprehending little, but this is how I eventually learn more.

I do not force my kids to tithe, that's gotta come from their heart.  However I'm unmovable in my own opinion that one needs to do so.  First fruits buddy boy, I'll murmur, explaining the concept to those who look at me as if I were a latent swamp algae component, hopelessly old school in their eyes.

God can do more with my 90% that's left than I can do on my own with 100%.  Aren't I living proof of this?

"I don't wanna be like you," they'll retort.

You don't wanna be retired early?  Financially secure?  Happier overall than most 58 year olds, I'd wager.  Go figure.

They don't wanna be sacrificial nor unmaterialistic is more like it.

Oh well.

I do need to haul in more sacks of leaves though, and weirdly enough, the grass needs mowing up in the Upper Gardens.  The bathroom vanity upstairs in my bathroom, a cheap builder's grade, needs to be painted as the sheen is long gone.  I have laundry and vacuuming to do, supper to be thinking about, all sorta boring to ponder, but not really, this is so much easier than facing such daunting mental health issues that were, and are, unresolvable, and had only resulted in injuries to others.

Several of my kids were reminiscing about the Hell we'd endured, shuddering at the memory of it all.  It wasn't easy, lemme tell ya.

Thank you God for opening doors for my family.  I'll do these boring chores with great inner joy, immensely grateful for safety.