Your Battery is Low

I've spent this evening bundled up in bed all alone with my laptop.  Rocket Man is traveling and I am left to my own devices and am without adult supervision.  I've snoozed a little, watched a movie, read some emails, talked to Rocket Man on the phone, played on facebook and refrained from internet shopping. 

About a year ago, I spent a great deal of time without my adult supervision while Rocket Man was away on business for the better part of 3 months.  He came home regularly during that time, but we spent a long time apart.  I grew weary of my own company and we were quite happy to be reunited.

This little trip is only 2 nights, but it feels all too familiar to be here and all alone.  I don't care for it.

Anyway, when I climbed into bed much earlier this evening, I snuggled down on his side of the bed.  I always sleep on his side when he's gone.  It is somewhat comforting to me to lay where he was night before last and will be again, God willing and if Delta Airlines gets him home, tomorrow night. 

Trouble is...the cord on my laptop doesn't reach that far.  And I am too lazy to crawl under furniture to plug it in to a closer outlet.  A few minutes ago, a warning popped up.

Your battery is low. 

I scrambled over to my side of the bed and plugged back in.  Can't lose my battery.

I realized that my battery really is low. I'm tired.  Not just because I didn't sleep well last night.  But a weary type of tired that goes deeper than one good night of sleep can fix.  Part of it has to do with my autoimmune difficulties, I'm afraid.  Part of it has to do with my lack of a good routine.  If I'm brutally honest, part of it has to do with my eating habits and lack of discipline in exercise. 

As I consider it, the warning tonight isn't the first warning I've had that my battery is low.  I've been just a bit cranky.  Sarcasm rolls off my lips entirely too quickly.  I have been easily irritated and feel anger bubbling just under the surface on occasion.  The worst is the feeling of being overwhelmed.  I just hate that.

So, yes.  My battery is low.  I need to plug back into my Source.  I need to be disciplined about my quiet time, my Bible reading and communion with God.  I need to consider carefully what I put into my body and I need to push it just a bit harder to burn calories and be more intentional about fitness. 

I'm ready.  And the first thing I'm going to do is turn the computer off and turn out the lights and try to get some sleep.  Because, my battery really is low.

I'm unplugging so I can recharge.

Because my battery is low!

Sledding in Alabama

I live in Alabama, smack dab in the Heart of Dixie. We had {for us} a major weather event this week. North Alabama was covered with anywhere from 6-10 inches of snow. It was beautiful. It also shut us down.

While the streets are relatively clear 5 days into the event, it is bitter cold and some parking lots are a mess. School is still out of session. Parents are tearing their hair out because they feel trapped in the house with their children. Small business owners are going to feel it because folks aren't out spending their money. This has been quite an event.

It has been a week of smiles and memories for me. Growing up in Iowa and Missouri, snow was just part of everyday life in the winter. My early adult life was spent in Germany, Colorado, New York, Ohio and Virginia before moving to the South in my early 30's. I haven't seen much of the white, fluffy stuff in Alabama.

Sunday night, I was at the window, watching the wonder of snow coming down. It was accumulating so quickly on the very cold roads and I began to think that the fervent prayers I had prayed every January and February for the past 13 winters were about to be answered. You see, I've prayed for a snow day so I could stay at home with the Rocket Man. Just the two of us. There have been snow days, but he has always gone on to work anyway. This time was going to be different. I just knew it.

And it was! Monday morning, the yard was full of glorious, white, heavy, beautiful, wonderful snow

I ran downstairs and made coffee and giggled and danced and gathered up my winter gear. Snow! I was going to go out and take pictures and play in the snow.

We bundled up and set out walking. We walked up the street and down to the main road. We talked to neighbors and watched children building snowmen. I was able to lend one of my neighbors my snow shovel {I have an honest-to-goodness real snow shovel} so he could stop using a garden shovel to try to clean off his driveway.

When Rocket Man was colder than he could possibly stand, we came in. I should remind you that he is my Son of the South and he doesn't tolerate cold well. At. All. Just doesn't do it. We are thermatically {is that a word?} incompatible. I love, Love, LOVE cold weather and I especially love snow.

I was chomping at the bits to go sledding, but we decided to wait until evening and give the slush in the roads a chance to freeze. All day long, I was at the window looking out. Oh my! How I love the beauty of that clean wonderful blanket of snow that covered my yard.

After supper, I gathered my winter gear once again. A good friend who lives in our neighborhood had come for supper and we were all going to go sledding. I scampered up into the attic and got down the old Flexible Flyer and was ready to go. It was going to be perfect. It was dark. Nobody else was out on the streets...they were all inside watching the BCS Championship game. I was bundled up and I was going sledding.

We rode up the hill in the back of our friend's truck with the trusty sled. He parked and then Rocket Man and I walked up the next hill. He was doubtful that I would be able to make it down because the slush wasn't frozen as we thought it would be. I was hopeful.

When we reached the summit, I got a lecture from the Man from Macon, Georgia about how to sled. I guess he's an expert because they get so much snow in Macon or something {did you hear the sarcasm?}.

I put the sled on the snow, laid down on it and down I went.It was wonderful. And there really are many good reasons why I probably shouldn't have done it.

I'm 53 years old and a grandmother
I have bronchitis
I have that bad back that is 'off' and 'ain't right'
I could have gotten hurt
I could have gotten sicker
I suppose that I could have gotten killed

But you know what? I flew down that hill, shrieking with pure delight. It was as if I had beomce the child I used to be...a child who loved to play in the snow, who would stand at the door with my hat and mittens frozen solid and beg my Mother to let me stay out for just a few more minutes. I never did that in the spring, summer or fall. Only in the winter when it snowed.

When I got to the bottom, I trudged back up and reluctantly offered the sled to Rocket Man and he politely declined. He said, "Molli. We brought you out to sled. You go down this hill as many times as you can and you enjoy it. Our joy is in watching you." {Did I mention before that I am absolutely crazy in love with this guy...and do you see why?}

So I flew down the hill and trudged back up until I couldn't put one foot in front of the other. And they watched and cheered me on, laughing with me and admonishing me to be careful. When I was done, we loaded back up in the truck and came home.

If I never get to sled again, and I understand that if we go another 14 years before we have significant snow...that quite possibly was my last trip down a hill on the Flexible Flyer...I'm good. Because Monday night was such a wonderful time and I intend to carry it in my heart as a precious treasure.

Where's Molli?

My oldest grandson, Malcolm, got the 'Where's Waldo' collection for Christmas. I don't know if he's spent much time looking for Waldo, but it struck a real chord in me. Where *is* Molli these days?

Not writing blogs

Not cleaning house

Not doing laundry

Not cooking

Not walking,riding bikes or working out

Not making cards

Not taking pictures

Not at work on our first work-day of the year...home sick with bronchitis

Not even very concerned about what she's not doing

Thing is...I wish I could find Molli and get some of these things done. Not that doing things is the end-all, be-all of existence. Doing, however, is the means by which we measure our days.



I have thought a lot lately. Spent time in prayer. Been sick and taken medicine. Napped and rested and spent valuable time with my husband and parents. Riding in the car, seeing old friends and old places.



It seems like its time to re-enter the 'real world' {whatever that is} and get back to some doing. I sort of have a plan. I intend to be gentler to Molli and give her a few more breaks. But, I also intend to try to motivate her to get her butt in gear and get some things done.



Does this make sense? Is anyone else out there with me?



No New Year's resolutions, but a firm resolve to live in better health {with all that encompasses, better eating, more activity, less illness}, to engage my mind in meaningful ways and to continue to try to see the needs of others and help where I can.



God willing, and with a little help from my friends, I think I can do this.

Are you with me?

And, if you happen to run into Molli, tell her its okay to come back home!

Happy 80th Birthday to My Sweet Daddy

Dear Sweet Daddy,

I am sending this with much love and hoping that your party will be a wonderful celebration of your birth. I am sorry that I won’t be there to celebrate with you on the day, but am thankful that we will be there just a few days afterwards to celebrate with you. Enjoy your party!

I have spent a great deal of time pondering what to say to you in this letter. A letter to be put in a memory book for everyone to read. Many, many things come to mind, but have already been written up in blog posts or in the book I did for you in 2009. Or they are simply too personal to put in a letter for all to see.

The thing that continues to come to mind is simply I love you. I hope that you know how much I love you. I don’t remember a time when I didn’t simply love My Sweet Daddy. I’m not sure if I love you more than any daughter ever loved her Daddy, although I have said for years that I am the self-proclaimed Queen of Daddy’s Girls. I only know that I have loved you as long as I can remember and as best I know how.

You have been such a place of earthly comfort and strength to me. As a small child, anything I imagined to be dangerous to me was held at bay when you were close by. I had a fast-held justified true belief that if My Sweet Daddy were near, nothing could harm me. As I grew older and became a little more aware of what danger really was, I still had a sense of well-being when you were close by. My belief grew from knowing that nothing would harm me if you were near to knowing that within your power, you would help keep me from harm if I acted prudently. Even older, when I brought my broken heart to you, you offered comfort and safety and I believe your heart broke along with mine. I took comfort from your care and concern and with courage and perhaps a little craziness dared to love again.

I love you for so many, many reasons. But the one I hold highest above all is the one I believe you would care for the most. And that is this: You lived your life in such a way that you pointed me to One dearer than even my own Sweet Daddy. You led me to a Heavenly Father, with whom I was very comfortable, thanks to the strong concept of Father that I learned from you. Thanks to your life, teaching and witness, I participate in Life Eternal that began all those years ago when you led me to know not only God the Father, but to accept God the Son.

I end with this. Simply one phrase, one solitary phrase that doesn’t say nearly what I want it to say, but also says it all. I love you Daddy!

Your Baby Girl,

Mollianne

My Tacky Treasures

Seriously...who played the trick with my calendar and all the sudden, its December 2? And why didn't somebody warn me that December would come immediately after November this year? Whose job was that? Has it always been this way and I just didn't notice?

I guess it doesn't matter that I was too busy basking in my Thanksgiving glow to notice. Reality set in and hit me between the eyeballs tonight when I went realized that my neighbors, The Griswalds, had turned on their Christmas lights. I don't have to turn the kitchen lights on at night until after the first of the year. Their Christmas display light up my kitchen from 3 houses down.

Actually, I was somewhat aware of the date and had stopped by our storage facility to pick up some of the Christmas tubs on the way home. It will take several trips to get it all, and then there is the stuff in the attic, and the stuff stashed under the guest room bed...I have lots of Christmas decorations. It takes me several days to get it all unpacked and properly placed. And I don't even decorate the outside. I don't have to. Really, The Griswalds do such a great job of lighting the neighborhood. Why bother?

On our way home from grabbing some fast food for dinner, I had a discussion with Rocket Man about Christmas. Frankly, he isn't the biggest fan of the season. He doesn't like all the fuss and comercialism that tries to overtake the season. He also doesn't care for the way people misbehave during the holidays. Neither of us are fans of what we have dubbed the "North Alabama Holiday Greeting" that we seem to get from fellow drivers in traffic this time of the year. Maybe they have this custom where you live. They point their middle finger at you while wishing you a Merry Christmas. At least, I think that is what they are saying as they pass me, pull in front of me, cut me off or take the parking spot I was just about to pull into. I'm never quite sure.

Anyway...I should also tell you that while Rocket Man occasionaly has a Scrooge attitude, he is one of the most generous humans I have ever known, especially at Christmas. So, I humor him when he's growling, "Humbug" and remind him to smile and say, "Peace on Earth!"

I wasn't playing Christmas Music at a bazillion decibles when I started digging into the tubs, because he seemed just a bit more not into the Christmas Spirit than he normally is. And I completely understand. The economy is bad, he continues to try to find work to keep his people employed and he had been up with me the past 2 nights tending to me while I was running a fever and coughing up a lung. He's earned the right to be a bit grumpy as far as I'm concerned.

I refrained from asking him if he wanted to help me unpack all the treasures. I wandered off by myself and opened the first tub.

There they were.

My choir children. The tackiest Christmas decorations you ever did see. They were my Neenie's and they have rhinestone eyes. She bought 3 of them when I was little, one for me and one for each of my big brothers. They were all blonde, so she painted the hair on two of them a brownish color, because we weren't all blonde. In fact, she always said that the painted ones were the boys and the blonde was me. Actually, I'm the non-blonde in the family.

Anyway, one of them lost its head a long time ago and she glued it back on. Only, she didn't glue it exactly right, so the head is a bit crooked. And the glue has turned brown on the poor choristers neck. But, he keeps that lovely rounded "o" mouth and I'm sure his pitch and diction are still perfect, even though he has had his head knocked off and glued back on. Of all the Christmas decorations I have (and like I said, I have a lot) these are sure to bring a tear to my eye every year.

You see. they bring back such precious memories of Christmas Past. Of snow and Baby Jesus in the Manger and flannel pajamas and the anticipation of our family reading the Christmas Story from Luke (in the King James...red letter edition) before we had a prayer and opened our Christmas presents, and my favorite Christmas books, "Davey's First Christmas" and "The Littlest Angel" and divinity and fudge and rice krispie treats and Christmas Carols, and family and friends and all the things that made our Christmas celebrations so wonderful to me when I was a small child. So I place them properly in a place of honor in my living room. Not the family room where we spend our time, but in the old fashioned living room where there are things that could get broken and portraits of Rocket Man's grandparents hanging on the wall, staring down on me whenever I walk through the room.

By the way...you should hear Rocket Man scoff at that term - properly placed- the bad time he gives me about it...properly placed, indeed! Heaven forbid that any of the Christmas decorations be improperly placed!! (laugh, poke Molli, snicker and snort)

See...I told you they were tacky. But I sure do treasure them!

Molli's Mayo Musings

I've done it.

We spent last week at the Jacksonville, Florida Mayo Clinic.

I've been:
poked
prodded
stuck
examined
imaged
scheduled
studied
and observed
by Mayo Clinic doctors and staff.

In 4 days, they were able to answer questions that we have been asking for almost 5 years. I arrived at the Clinic last Monday, thinking that this was my last hope. I left with a diagnosis and treatment plan.

Absolutely amazing, don't you think?

After several hours of being examined by doctors, 14 vials of blood for bloodwork, an EEG (4th in 5 years), observation for sleep apnea (which I don't have), MRI imagining (I have emprical evidence that I have a brain, despite what my older brothers may think), the most extensive eye exam I've ever had...all with the same results as I've had since early 2006...Dr. Shuster is convinced that I have a non-specific auto immune condition.

It doesn't have a fancy-schmancy name. Not even sure it is what you'd call a disease. But to quote my son, my body is at war against itself...invading Normandy completely unaware that the war was won 60 years ago. My immune system has gone haywire and since it can't find a disease to kill off, its eating away at perfectly healthy nerves in my brain.

Not good! I'm not certain there is any brain matter to spare, you know?

But, thank goodness, we even think we have a handle on what caused World War III to begin inside my body. It is linked to a situation that is almost unbelievable and if you told me the same story, I'd be skeptical. But honest, it really did. I'm not going to tell you the entire story here, but I will say that the title is "Rabies is always fatal" and it happened to us when we woke up in our bedroom one night over 5 years ago to find a bat flying around in our bedroom.

Because we were alseep with the bat in our room, we found out we were at risk to have been bitten, even though we felt certain we were not. After consulting several sources, including the CDC and our doctor, we went to the ER and were given rabies shots. We had a total of 3 shots before we knew for certain that the bat didn't have rabies.

6 months later, I began to have the symptoms that have plagued me ever since. The rabies vaccines are of the live variety and the doctor believes that my auto-immune system went nuts because of that. Once it was in motion, it just couldn't quit.

I've been tested for ALS, Stroke, Alzheimers, Parkinsons, Epilepsy, Lyme's Disease, Multiple Scloresis, and several other not so well-known illnesses. Never could get a diagnosis. I've been told I'm interesting, off and not quite right. I've even been told that I probably have a 'deep seated wound in my pshyche from childhood that needed to be addressed.'

I am so thrilled to have a non-specific auto immune disorder and means to treat it. Really. I'm not going to give anyone a bad time about hooking me up to an IV and administering 1000 mg of steroids a day for 5 days. Because I believe that this is going to ultimately make me better and our lives will not be ruled by my stroke-type symptoms any longer.

So...thank you for your prayers and concern for us over the past week. It meant the world to me and to the Rocket Man.

There are several funny stories to tell about the week, and I promise I will tell them over time. But tonight, I just wanted to say that my grandsons are downstairs watching TV, Rocket Man is asleep in the bed beside me and all is well in MolliWorld.

Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, my friends.

~Mollianne

Happy Birthday, Mother!

Yesterday was my Dear Mother's birthday. As we were on the road all week, I was unable to write a post for her. I would like to repost what I wrote about her on our family blog last spring. My sister, Linda, and her family are there with her this weekend as is my brother, Terry, and parts of his family. I'm sure that there is lots of giggling, teasing, loud talking, arguing and eating going on today. That is the kind of day my Mother loves, and I am so thankful that she has half of her children with her today. Happy Birthday, Mother. Ed and I love you very much!

My Mother

Someone asked me to describe my Mother once. I believe that was the hardest question I have ever been asked. If you know her, you know why.

Charlotte Theresa Younger Buster is, among other things:

Larger than life
A force of nature
Unbridled energy
A little woman with a heart as big as Texas
Purpose personified
Grace under fire
Beautiful from the tip of her toes to the top of her head, inside and out
Not exactly what you'd call quiet

My Mother is a living definition of what it means to be in love. She is in love with her Lord. She is in love with her Bobbie. She is in love with her family. She is in love with her home and her life.

She is the epitome of homemaker, a godly wife, an excellent cook and nobody...NOBODY can clean or do laundry like she can.

Everyone should have a friend like Mother. She is the consumute friend and neighbor. Always there with a giggle, a cup of coffee, a freshly baked cake, prayers, time and concern. When my Mother is your friend, you have a friend indeed.

If she hadn't raised me to be a strong woman, I fear I'd have spent my life totally intimidated by her. I have never possessed her energy. I'm much more introverted than she is. I'm a true homebody and Mother is always ready to go! Somehow, though, this tomboy of a woman gave birth to one very prissy daughter. I remember sitting in the floor with her while she carefully cut out paper dolls for me. I know that was an act of pure love, because I know she cared not one whit for such things. But she knew how I loved them and she did it for me.

She taught me so many things, and one was that it was okay to be me-even though I am so different from her.

That lesson, the space to grow up and be all I can be...not an extension of her or even who she wanted me to be...is one of the most precious gifts of earthly grace I have ever known.

Because of her wisdom in raising me as she did, we grew up to be friends. She is Mother first. Always Mother. But,Friend as well. I am so blessed. When I had a daughter of my own, it was my honor to give her Mother's name. Not to call her Charlotte, because Annie suited her so well...but her name is Charlotte Anne. They are alike in many, many ways. The blessings have rebounded.

Describe my Mother?

My husband does that very well. I've often heard him say, 'Charlotte is the most extraordinary and remarkable woman I have ever known.' When a Son-in-Law feels that way about his Mother-in-Law...you know she's special.

Oh...and did you see the picture? That is Mother in her Uggs. Its not enough that she's extraordinay and remarkable...she's doggone adorable, too.

Love you, Mother!

~Mollianne