Get a Box of Kleenex for a Good Cry

Don't worry. We still have Hoover, the miracle dog who ate hot dogs and french fries yesterday and looked remarkably perky for a dog who was supposed to be dead a month ago.

What a blessing to us that he's doing so well!


No, today's cry comes to us courtesy of Pioneer Woman's photo contest "Coming Home," featuring photos of Armed Service members coming home. Not only did I have flashbacks to welcoming George home from the Persian Gulf War and Iraqi Freedom, but I was deeply moved by the sheer volume of photos. Some of the welcome home photos are of flag-draped coffins, of loved ones being handed flags graveside, and of grave markers at Arlington. Some are of daddies meeting their babies for the first time. Some are of moms in uniform holding their children. Some are from World War II, some are from the recent past. All are precious.

Click, and be moved. Sniff, sniff.


Coming Home Group 1

Group 2

Group 3

Group 4

Group 5

Gratitude Journal #43

My husband, George, served in the United States Air Force for twenty years. In 2007, about six months before he retired from active duty, he was invited to speak at the Cedarville Memorial Day parade. Here's a bit of what he said:

"So while we reflect upon our fallen patriots, and shed a tear on their behalf, let us also honor them by resolving, each and every one of us, to do what we can to ensure that America remains a place worth living for, fighting for, and yes, even dying for."

It's not just that these patriots died for the freedom we enjoy. Their sacrifice calls us to action to preserve and protect their legacy. For some of us, like George, this means serving in the military, but for most of us, this means voting, volunteering, and standing up for the oppressed in our communities, states, country, and world. It's easy to forget, to take for granted our freedom. Today is our annual reminder of what that freedom cost those who paid for it with their blood.

Let's carry that reminder in our hearts each and every day with faithful gratitude.





*And because I'm a total sucker for patriotic montages, check out this video of God Bless the USA by Lee Greenwood

Weekly Giggle #18

Friday was Business Day at the boys' school. Fourth graders formed businesses, made products, marketed them, and sold them to the other grades. Nick and his friend Josh teamed up to make brownies and mints, which sold extremely well.

Jack's teacher gave each of her students a dollar (fake money) to go shopping. Here is her account of Jack's shopping experience:


[Jack] ended up getting watermelon. On the way out he noticed a brownie with BLUE icing and really wanted it. He literally went up to the girl selling them and batting his eyes (I am NOT making this up!) said "You know blue is my favorite color and I LOVE brownies, but I have no money." Well....who can resist that, she gave him one for free. I told Jack that his charming personality will not always get him free things in life.... I'm going to miss him this summer!

That's my boy!

Words, Words, Words for Memorial Day

This photo shows the crew of a B-24 Liberator which bailed out over China during WWII. The plane that crashed (not pictured) had nose art that said, "Dippy Dave and his 8 Dippy Diddlers."

Dippy Dave was my grandfather, D.L. Willis, who was the pilot (back row, second from left). One of those Dippy Diddlers was Lt. Christopher Williams (back row, far right), the bombardier of the crew. Today's words were written by him, describing the crash of the Dippy Dave and the crew's long walk to safety.

My grandfather rarely spoke of this event, and I only remember him saying that he never wanted to bail out of a plane again because you can only do it wrong once. Williams' son, who found his father's diary after his father's death in 2003, states that no one knew of the existence of the diary. I'm so grateful he found it and took the time to post it online so we could all see the quiet courage and sacrifice of those who served.

Today's post is dedicated to them.

Words, Words, Words by Lt. Christopher Williams

Williams' Full Diary

Things on Thursday: Angel of Courage

This Willow Tree Angel of Courage came to live with me during the Iraq War after George deployed. My sister-in-law Angela (great name, eh?) sent her to me at a time when I really needed courage. Seeing this wonderful gesture on my bedside table every morning helped me through three very long months.

The worst moment for me during that whole deployment happened when I was driving the boys back from the grocery store one day. From the back seat, Nick, who was three at the time, said with a voice full of happy expectation, "Daddy is waiting for us at home!" I knew that George was probably flying a mission at that very moment on the other side of the world and had to pull off the side of the road for a few minutes to pray for some more courage myself.

Of course, George eventually came home safe and sound, but the Angel of Courage stayed on my bedside table. We all need a daily dose of courage, even for the ordinary challenges of life. A few years ago, Jack played with my angel and loved her wings off, so I glued them back and set her on the top shelf of my bookshelf, out of his reach but in plain sight.

Do you have a symbol of courage in your house?

Weekly Giggle #17

I just posted this little story on my stamping blog and thought I'd share it here, too.

When George and I took childbirthing class, our teacher was a German woman with a very deep, heavily accented voice. At one point, she ordered us to "exp-herience da relax-A-tion." Her voice was sooooo NOT relaxing that George and I started to giggle. Anyway, she suggested we find our happy place and meditate on it during labor. My happy place was a North Carolina beach, with the steady, peaceful waves and the pelicans flying and a Scot in full Highland dress playing his bagpipes to the rising sun. (Yes, I actually experienced this very scene on an early morning beach walk, and it was so incredibly peaceful. Well, sort of weird with the kilted Highlander, but calming nevertheless.) Ahhhh, relaxation.

Fast forward to labor. It hurt sooooo much that I could NOT find my happy place. Every time I closed my eyes to conjure that Scot by the waves, the only image my brain could pull up was of the Pacific coast, specifically some cliffs we'd visited near San Francisco in 1988. The day was overcast and gloomy, and the waves violently crashed against the cliffs with, oddly enough, a German voice-over shouting "Exp-herience da relax-A-tion!" This was NOT my East Coast happy place at all. I could not get there because my giant watermelon-size uterus was teaching me a whole new definition of pain like I'd never felt before.

I begged for the epidural man, who quickly came and took all the hyperventilating pain away. I loved him and would have married him if I weren't already having someone else's baby. God bless the epidural man.

And that is how I flunked natural childbirth.

Gratitude Journal #42

This is today's second post; to read my initial reaction to the Lost finale, please scroll down!



Today, I am grateful for bacon.



The bucket list is complete. As you can see, for a dog who was supposed to be dead three weeks ago, Hoover is remarkably alive and happy. And fat.

Today, I am grateful that Lost is over. It was a good story well told, and now it is time to move on. Oh, the layers of meaning in that phrase move on! I think my favorite line from last night was Miles saying, "I may not believe in much, but I believe in duct tape." But my favorite moment was at the very end, when Vincent the yellow lab lay down next to Jack. So glad they didn't forget about Vincent.

Today, I am grateful for benadryl. Again. Nuff said.

What are you grateful for today?