A hero on the pool deck....

I met Brian and Rachael a few weeks ago

on a Caribbean cruise I took with my mom.

Before I even noticed Brian's leg,

I was struck by the obvious adoration between this couple.

Rachael just glowed in Brian’s presence

and seemed to have a protective nature about her.

Brian definitely looked like a man in love,

but there was also a certain sadness and hesitation about him.

They were both settled into sun chairs on the pool deck

when I first saw them.

A few minutes later when he moved his beach towel

I saw Brian’s leg.

It was a curious contraption of metal and sockets

with a brown sandal fixed to a plastic bare foot.

Mom and I happened to be sitting pool side

a few chairs from Brian’s when the cruise director announced

a "Mr. Sexy Legs" competition.

I had no sooner turned to my mom to tell her that I hoped Brian would enter

when I saw Rachael encouraging him to put his name on the list.

He kept shaking it off,

but mom and I supported Rachel with a “thumbs up”

and vigorous motioning for him to get up.

Reluctantly, Brian put his name on the list and got in line.

We watched several men strut their stuff down the deck.

Some were funny,

some were embarrassing,

but none of them had the impact that Brian did when he his walk began.

At well over six feet tall

I imagine that Brian probably wasn’t very graceful on two legs,

but as he made his way down the deck

with his newly learned gait,

he became more beautiful with each stride.

Almost everyone on the pool deck stood and cheered for him

and people were lined up against the upper deck railing

most of them with their hands in the air clapping for Brian!

At that moment

Brian was our friend,

our son,

our brother,

our husband.

He was every soldier who didn’t come home

and every soldier who was still there fighting.

We all wiped away tears

as he made his way over to where Rachael was sitting

and gave her a big kiss before getting back in line

to await the judge’s decision.

I spoke with Rachael as we were waiting

and she told me that Brian had lost his leg only seven months ago

and that he was still insecure about learning how to move around

in his prosthetic leg

which he got for Christmas.

This cruise was her way of celebrating how far he'd come

and to lift his spirits.

What we originally thought would be good for Brian,

turned out to be an amazing lesson for all of us watching.

We saw a hero whose bravery had remained strong

through the physical battlefield of Iraq

and through the emotional battlefield

of recovery.

His heroism inspired in us

a new appreciation for the price of freedom.

We shed tears as this American hero

took several steps toward healing himself,

but what we didn’t count on

was that with each step he took,

something in all of our hearts began to heal as well.

Many of us were brought face to face

with the silliness of our own insecurities

as we watched this soldier face his in a big way.

After what we saw on that day

how could any of us ever again say

that we can’t do something out of fear

or because of the risk of embarrassment?

Courage inspires courage.

Many men in the audience were veterans of past wars.

Their bodies bore the scars that told the stories

of the price of freedom in their own lives.

Grey headed wives stood beside these men,

their scars of worry were better concealed

but still as painful.

Like so many intangibles

the bond between people who have gone through similar tragedies

is as evident when they talk to each other

as it would be if they were tied together by a big unbreakable rope.

When you witness people with this kind of bond,

it is undeniable.

It is also essential to our emotional well- being

to relate to other people on the deep level of shared experiences.

Hearing “I’ve been there son”

from war veterans must have soothed a part of Brian

like nothing else could.

Brian received a metal that day for winning the "Mr. Sexy Leg" contest,

but his biggest gift was being embraced by an audience

whose appreciation was evident in their glistening eyes,

their standing ovations,

their hugs and handshakes.

In the middle of the Caribbean Sea

amidst steel drum bands

and umbrella drinks,

I watched a broken man be put back together

one "thank you" at a time

and I watched a hero

make better Americans of us all.

The change in Brian was immediately noticeable.

Over the next few days I rarely saw him alone.

He was always greeted with handshakes

and engaged in conversation.

That hesitancy that I had seen in him before

was replaced by a broad smile,

a head held high

and what looked like pride to me.

Later that week

on the very same pool deck that he had introduced himself

to a ship full of strangers,

Brian got down on one knee

and proposed to Rachael.

She said yes!

both sides of the coin....

The first stop on our Caribbean cruise was San Juan, Puerto Rico.

I was so excited to visit my first island.

We found a great spot to watch us dock.

My first impression of San Juan

was that it was very congested and

kind of dirty. I could not believe how many cars

were packed onto one narrow street!

I did really like the colorful buildings though.

The balconys on many of them

reminded me alot of New Orleans.

It was dreadfully hot on the day we were there, even at 5:00 pm.

Mom and I walked the streets for a bit

and visited some local shops.

Because we docked on Mother's Day

which is a big day in Puerto Rico,

alot of the attractions were closed.

So after getting our fill of

what was accessible by foot,

we went back to the ship before dark

and enjoyed a party under the stars on the pool deck

that evening.

Stop #2 was a beach day!

We docked in St. Thomas which I thought was

stunningly beautiful!

The water was a gorgeous turquoise and

the beaches were almost as sugar white

as Pensacola's beaches are.

I would love to spend more time on this island.

I was surprised at the prices of the homes
there. Even the ones with fabulous views

were listed at around $600,000!

We took a tour with a guide who dropped us off at

a local beach. But first she drove like a maniac to the top of a mountain!

In St. Thomas they drive on the other side of the street

but they have American cars so their steering wheels

are in the same place as ours.

It would take some serious getting used to

if I had to drive there!

After the gorgeous views on the mountain,

we descended into a slummy looking neighborhood.

It definitely didn't look like a place tourists would go.

Our guide told us that the best beaches to visit were the local ones and

Coki beach was definitely local!

As soon as we rounded a corner,

we were relieved to see that

it was indeed a beautiful beach

and there were other cruisers there as well.

Mom and I ordered fruity rum drinks and

a fish dish that is common on the island.

I'm not sure wha thte fish was called,

but it was soooo good!

We snorkled and enjoyed the water at Coki beach.

They gave us a dog biscuit to break up under water

as we snorkled

so that we could see the fish close up.

On the surface, I didn't think we'd see much

because even though the water was pretty clear,

there didn't seem to be much fish action.

As soon as I went underwater though,

I was greeted by dozens of yellow and blue fish

who apparently loved dog biscuits!

Our third stop was Samana, Dominican Republic.

We were given a tour through typical neighborhoods

in Samana. Our guide kept telling us that we would see other people

from our boat on the tour.

The deeper we got into the back roads

the more he told us that.

We were beginning to think that he was

just telling us that to keep us calm

so they could eat us!

I was even starting to size the guide and driver up

to determine whether I or another tour mate could take them,

but alas, we saw lots of other cruisers

and our fears subsided.

Tourism is the only industry in Samana

and the people struggle for everything they get.

I saw the skinniest dogs I have ever seen there

and lots of children eating fruit off of the trees in their yards.

There were children everywhere

and all of them wanted gum or lolli pops

from us.

Mom brought a bag full to give away.

Local helpers assisted us across creeks

as we walked through the "jungle" to

see a waterfall.

The locals walk beside you the whole way

ready to assist you if you need help navigating the rocky part of the path.

They had hopes of getting a tip for their guidance.

I think my helper was in training

because I had a 13 year old boy hold my hand the entire way.

At the beginning a woman said something to him in spanish

and he grabbed my hand and didn't let go.

Mom and her helper Naomi walked in front of us

and Naomi often looked back and laughed at

my helper who was holding my hand even on long stretches

of flat ground.

I'm sure that woman told him, "Grab her hand and stay with her

so you can get a tip" or something like that!

I did tip my funny escort.

The shacks that the people of Samana live in

are in stark contrast to the beauty around them.

They live with so little which is such an eye-opener

to us Americans who have been blessed with so much.

I would love for my kids to experience something like this

and see first hand how other cultures live with so much less

than we do.

In St. Thomas, I felt like I was in shopping heaven

and I found so many things that I wanted to buy.

In Samana all I could think of was what I wanted to give.

Samana was my favorite port.

It was so meaningful to me to see both sides of the coin.

2 mommas and a cruise ship!

For Mother's Day this year my mom and I went on a 9 day

cruise to the Caribbean!

It was so fun getting to spend so much time with her.

We stayed up late at night talking

and laughing like girlfriends do.

Being able to just relax and have a good time

was such a blessing for both of us.

Before we even hit our first island,

I knew that this was going to be

a week of fun.

On our second day at sea

mom decided to judge the

"Mr. Sexy Legs" competition for a reason I will

share in an upcoming story.

It was hilarious watching all of the guys

strut their stuff,

or whatever stuff they thought they had,

and it was even more hysterical watching

my mom's reaction!

She was having a great time

even though she was way out of her comfort zone!



She was responsible for picking
the most athletic legs winner
and had one of four votes to decide the overall winner.


The over all winner is part of a story I am going to tell
for Memorial Day,
so I won't spoil it by adding
any photos of him yet.


Now judging is one thing....
competing is a whole other ball game!
Before she knew it, mom was in a line up
for the "Best Biceps" women's competition!
Because she has been a judge, she and her fellow judges
were automatically entered into this contest.


I know when she woke up that morning.
the last thing she thought she would be doing
was dancing down the pool deck
in front of a cheering audience and four judges!


But she turned on that charm of hers
and did it anyway.
I am so proud of her!
(and I'm super happy
that I have the photos to prove this!)

Telling the stories of our cruise is far too involved for one post, so
I will break it up by island/day
and will post the photos and details all this week and next week.

Until then,
blue skies and umbrella drinks for everyone
and a little steel drum music too!

the avocado tree

We were first introduced to avocados

during our time in southern California

almost 9 years ago.

There were rows and rows of them growing

in the orchards we would pass

when we were out in town.

They quickly became one of my favorite sandwhich toppings

and fresh guacamole was a staple at our house.

Since then, I've been buying them whenever

we have a mexican themed dinner

and to add to my turkey sandwhiches.

It wasn't until we moved here to

Maryland that we attempted

the classic avocado seed experiment.

Last Fall my mom and Brendell

rigged up an avocado seed with toothpicks

and placed it in a jar of water.

Within a few weeks we had sprouts.

Those sprouts got bigger and bigger

and before we knew it we had

big green leaves!

It has been fascinating to watch this thing grow!

It is almost twice as tall now as it was

in these photos and it sits

in the window above our sink

where we all comment from time to time

about how well it's doing.

But this little plant will never produce fruit.
Even if we put it in soil and take care of it properly.
If it does produce fruit, it will take 7 to 15 years
and it will not be the same kind of fruit produced
by it's parent plant
and that fruit will not be edible.

Strange that something that appears to be so vibrant
and so healthy and something that we have watched grow
from a seed
will never do what it was created to do.

But there is hope.





This plant can be grafted into a high producing
well established tree.

Grafting is the process of combining the root system

of a new plant with a branch from a hearty producing tree.

Grafting is the only means of achieving

edible avocados in plants grown from seeds

because plants that are grown from seeds

like our little experiment plant

are hybrids and their fruit

if they produce any at all

is inedible

unless merged with a producing tree.

It is almost impossible for me to hear

of this process and not think of the Bible passage found in

John 15:1-8.

Unless we are grafted into the True Vine,

we will not produce effective fruit.
No matter how much sunlight or water we get,

no matter how straight and strong our stem seems to be,

no matter how green our leaves,

no matter how many admirers are standing around

talking about how great we are,

no matter how far we've come from

that little seed.....

there will be no effective fruit without

the merging of ourselves with

the one who is our source!

So the next time I see an avocado,

just seconds before I think of

guacamole and orchards full of trees

loaded with green fruit that tastes

like a vegetable,

I will think of what a wonderful picture

that odd shaped fruit is

of my utter uselessness apart

from God who is the source of my life.....

and then I will pick a nice soft ripe one

and grab the tortillas chips!

Restoration Hardware

{Res.tor.a.tion} .n.

The act of restoring; renewal, revivial or reestablishment.

The state or fact of being restored.

A return of something to it's former, original or normal condition.

Restitution of something taken away or lost.

Something that is restored as by renovating.

A putting back to a former position, dignity, ect.

Restoration.

I've been thinking alot about that word lately.

In fact it seems to be invading my thoughts

with such force, that I am having a hard time

thinking about much else.

Usually when this happens,

it means that it's time for me to pay attention

to the word or concept if I want to get any peace at all.

Otherwise, it will keep hounding me in my sleep

and in my fully conscious mind until I do.

Restoration.

The above definitions are glorious.

I was so pleased when I read them because

they open up for me such extraordinarily rich pictures

of what this word means.

When I think of the word restoration,

my mind immediately jumps to an old house

that we once called home.

The dilapidated New England farm house was built

high on a hill in Portsmouth, Rhode Island

in the 1890s.

A long time admirer of old houses full of stories,

I couldn't wait to move in and set up house

within her walls.

From the moment I laid eyes on her

I knew what she was supposed to be.

In her early years,

she must have sat magestically on that hill

overlooking the Narraganset Bay;

her windows reflecting the evening sun as it

dropped into the water after one last

glistening nod to the day.

But many years had gone by.

Battles had been fought on her grounds

and harsh weather weakend her foundations

and battered her frame.

Some improvements and updates

had been made through the years

but her glory days seemed a distant memory.

I loved her though.

I filled her porch full of flowers and

ran my fingers over the antique wooden banister that

lined her narrow stair case.

She was beautiful to me.

I polished her worn floors and hung pictures

on her scarred walls.

I knew that she was probably well beyond

what it would take in this economy to

bring her back to her former glory,

but I still saw it.

I overlooked her drafty windows and her

cracked driveway,

and I lived in her as if she were

the most magnificent mansion I had ever seen.

Someday, a restoration specialist

will see in her what I saw.

He will know exactly what to do.

He will knock down walls and strip wood.

He will tear down and build up.

She will be made new from the inside out.

He will skillfully pour into her exactly what she needs

and she will shine again.

What a beautiful concept restoration is!

I'm sure many of us can think of at least a dozen things in our

lives that are as battered and beaten

as my beloved New England house and

we know that without restoration,

they will crumble.

It could be our relationship with our husband or wife,

our kids, a parent or a friend, or maybe

it is that we need God to restore something in us,

our hope, our joy or our faith.

Maybe we've experienced some pain in our lives

and we have followed that pain down

destructive roads so far that we feel like

we can never be brought back to the beginning

and live as though we had made a different choice.

Restoration is a core need in all of our lives.

It is a need that only a skilled restoration specialist can fill.

Trying to do the job without one is like

slapping a coat of paint

on a peeling wall.

In all of our good intentioned trying,

we will never be able to successfully restore

anything without the necessary tools or hardware

that is needed to do the job right.

All our efforts amount to polished floors

and flowers on the porch

but only the healing hand of a specialist

can tear out the old and rebuild the new

in such a way that the former glory is restored

in grandiose splendor!

I know a restoration specialist if you are looking for one.

Even if you've already tried to rebuild yourself and things aren't going well,

He'll know exactly what to do.

He'll take your project in any condition.

Nothing is too far gone or too messed up for him.

He is a master renovator.

His address is 2 Cor 5:17-21

and Isaiah 43:18-19.

And best of all,

He's totally free!

The fine line at the end of our driveway.

So we've had 7 year old attitude

up to our ears for the past

few weeks.

I'm not sure what has gotten into our

little princess, but she has

taken sass to the next level lately!

This morning we were waiting for the school bus

and the sass monster bit again.

Brendell's timing is impecable because

her bus was rumbling

down the street

just as the defiant words were

coming out of her mouth.

As the bus groaned to a stop and

the doors squeeked open,

I was still sizzling from

frustration and ok, I'll admit it, anger

at the little thing bounding up the school bus steps.

How dare she talk to me that way!

She knows better!

I bet other little girls don't sass their moms as

much as she sasses me!

What the heck am I doing wrong?!

Each thought seared through my brain

and sucked out my joy

and a good bit of my ability to reason

by the time she was seated.

I looked up at the window and saw

the familiar round cheeked smile

come across her face as she raised her hand to wave.

Stunned and seething I reluctantly put my hand in the air

but my smile was slow to appear.

She frowned and slowly took her hand down

only to bring it up again when I finally let my

smile swallow up my raw emotions

and waved more energetically.

All morning the shocked saddness in her eyes

when she didn't see me

joyfully bidding her goodbye as I usually do

haunted me and pricked at my heart.

I felt guilty because I hadn't wanted to smile back.

I hadn't wanted to wave.

I wanted to teach her a lesson and

stomp off and deny her

my acceptance.

Ug!

How selfish and immature of me!

What right did I have to deny my deviant child

the pleasure of my complete and utter delight

at who she is and the gift I have in her?

It is her actions that I do not accept,

not her as a person.

She would have gotten the opposite

message this morning

had I not pushed my anger down.

Today at the end of our driveway, I walked that fine line

between righteous admonition

and selfish manipulation

and for a few seconds I had my

foot firmly planted in ugly indignation.

I am so thankful that my creator
doesn't do that to me when
I sass Him.
He has never kept his affection from me.
His thoughts toward me are
always good.
He sees me as redeemed and clean.
He loves me wildly with a perfect
love that I don't deserve,
but it is so freely lavished on me
not because of who I am
but because of who He is!
I can't do anything to make Him love me less
and I can't do anything to make Him love me more.
He's always there waving enthusiastically
with a great big smile and a heart
full of love for me
no matter how I have behaved.
Oh how I want to portray that image
to my children!
I know that the disciplinary style of a parent
can greatly affect the child's view of God.
I don't want them to think that if they
do something wrong
that God withdrawls from them.
I want them to know that
no matter how many rules they break
or how many times they disobey,
I will always accept them for who they are
and I will not withhold my love and
affection for them.
This certainly doesn't mean that there are no consequences
for doing something wrong.
But it does mean that the way I see my kids
and what I think about them
in my heart
is not what is at stake
when they disobey.
They are loved totally and completely
by me and most importantly
by their creator
no matter how many times they
break the rules.
As for the sass monster?
I'm working on an extermination plan
as I type this!