Odessa and the jelly glass

            My Mother’s best friend Odessa was a black woman. The 2 swapped chores, Odessa ironing as my Mom sewed, singing hymns and sharing Scriptures as they worked. I loved days when Odessa was in our home.  I’d sit outside the open window and listen. Their laughter would make my heart smile.

One day my Dad was home at lunchtime. Odessa sat down to sweet tea, peas, cornbread, and sliced tomatoes with us. My Dad stopped her, turned to my Mom and laid down the law: Odessa was not to drink out of a glass. Horrified, best describes my Mom and sisters; we were accustomed to treating Odessa with the same respect as my Mom’s white friends.  It wasn’t even as if the jelly glasses that the rest of us drank from were fancy.  Why couldn’t Odessa drink from a jelly glass like us?

Growing up in The South in the 1960s, prejudice, racism, and hatred were as thick as the humidity. I am ashamed to tell the story of Odessa and the jar. Ashamed that prejudice existed in my home. Even typing out this story brought pain to my heart.

The day Odessa couldn’t drink from the jelly glass brought confusion.  What made this woman that I loved dearly different than all the other people I loved?  Odessa had a laugh that filled the house and gave the best hugs in the world. Odessa was poor but so were we. She had birthed 22 children. She’d bring some of the children with her to play in the summer. One of her daughters was blind, she was my age but rode on the train by herself to the blind school in Talladega, AL, I thought she was the bravest person that had ever lived.  We would take her to the train station and watch her board without a tear.

Odessa couldn’t drink out of our jelly glasses just because God created her with a little different skin tone. Odessa did not choose to be born as she was, but she loved her Creator. She accepted herself with the unique dignity of one who has faced hardships and survived. Odessa deserved to drink from crystal, but she did not let that one day she couldn’t drink from a free jelly glass stop her from being with the friends she loved. I respect that most of all about her.

I b cheap

Really.

I love the good life, but I am cheap.

I do not enjoy spending money.

I could be put nicely, like “I’m fiscally conservative,” or “I choose to be monetarily wise,” but the truth is I b cheap.

 My sister and I text, “I b cheap” when we are feeling fretful about the amount of money we are spending.

 

When the Amex bill came this month, the “I b cheap” mantra exploded. After I picked myself up off the floor, perspective and my breath returned. See, we’d given our daughter and her fiancée a marvelously fun engagement party and several of the wedding necessities had been purchased in the same month. It was the largest Amex bill ever… which of course means I really racked up on some travel points!

 

The cure to my temptation to panic over $$$ spent was a look through the pictures from the night of the party. Yep, it was worth every cent! Celebrating life’s amazing moments in just the perfect way remind us of what’s most important in life. Moments like a covenant marriage based of God’s work in the lives of 2 people, priceless. Moments that can’t be replaced are better than jewels, fast cars, or retirement accounts!

PinkKudzu

This blog is named “PinkKudzu” for a reason. First, I have a pink addiction, always have. I love pink. I could have a totally pink house, but I am married and I respect him enough to keep my pinkness in check. Secondly, because life is like kudzu. It gets all tangled up and difficult to maneuver within. All the drama/trauma of life is kudzu. In a dysfunctional world, drama/trauma is the norm. Kudzu takes over everything in sight.

 

Life has been very kudzu-y as of late. In the midst of the entanglement, I realized I had become overly fearful of kudzu. Kudzu causes us to get tripped up on our feet and fall. When we fall, we get booboos that hurt. I do not like to hurt. Kudzu has scary snakes in it that come out of nowhere and attack, scaring me to pieces. When I get scared in the kudzu of life, I freeze and fail to become untangled.

 

This freeze up has caused me to become shy when it comes to being truthful about how I feel, shy of confronting those who offend, and shy about speaking out on issues. That’s not the real me. That’s some watered down version of a person I don’t know. I’m frozen in kudzu, the reasons are not important, I know them well…. Or I guess I should say the excuses; there’s a difference.

 

I do not like being stuck in the kudzu. I spend my time looking for scary stuff that will come out and strike me. I overanalyze and find myself doing a lot of deleting of status, emails, and blogs. Tangled in kudzu, I take blogposts and file them away hoping for a day when I’m kudzu free.

 

I’m taking a step out of the kudzu. A tentative step. So here goes:  as a Christ follower, I believe the best way to share the love of Christ with others is to serve. Not to protest, not to judge, not to be angry, not to scare people. But to show the love of Christ in practical ways: helping others, meeting needs. That is what Jesus did. From the kudzu, it looks like we need to do more listening than shouting. More loving, more understanding, more being the less of these.

 

Showing the love of Christ is sheltering the homeless, helping the poor, loving the orphan, rescuing the trafficked, and feeding the hungry. It is using my energy to make a difference in the life of another, it means getting into the messiness of life… wading into the kudzu. 

How Things Have Changed

Tonight I cut out the pieces for the practice round of my granddaughter Caroline’s dress for my daughter’s wedding.  I used a pattern my Mother used for me when I was 3. It’s an old pattern. It cost 25 cents.

 

Pinning the pieces I noticed something strange. There were no pinpricks in the pattern pieces from previous use. The pattern had been used to make dresses for all four of us daughters, but there was no sign of the pieces being pinned to fabric before being cut out. There were no pinpricks. None.

 

I remembered that my Mother would lay her silver plated (what we called “case”) knives on the pattern pieces to hold them down. She would carefully cut around the pieces without moving the knives to make sure the pieces were precise. This is not an easy task; in fact, it’s very challenging.

My Mother used knives because she did not have straight pins. The knives she had because they were free with Duz dish soap or maybe she’d gotten them with Green Stamps or Top Value Stamps, I forgot which one. Our dishes and glasses came with Duz. Saving stamps and getting free things added special little touches of luxury to our lives.

 

Straight pins are inexpensive, 250 for a dollar today. But my

Mother didn’t have straight pins. Something she needed in order to dress herself and her 4 girls, but she didn’t have any. Something so inexpensive, but she didn’t have any.

 

In those days, everything was a decision. Spending the few pennies for straight pins versus spending money on food or other necessities required intentional thought and contemplation. The idea of what defined a necessity was more raw and narrow. What I see as a necessity was a great excess when I was a child.

 

I think of all the things my Mother did without and wish I’d had this realization years ago when I still had the opportunity to spoil her, to buy her straight pins. When she was alive, I was living life rushing from moment to moment instead of being in the moments and savoring them.

 

Now as I sew for my granddaughter, I think of those straight pins and am reminded of how blessed I am, but more than that I am reminded to be intentional in each moment. To look around and notice the small things. To change what I can, make a difference in someone’s life when there’s an opportunity, and to simplify my idea of what a necessity is.

Is life really easier with straight pins? 

A Blog Tour!

Think of tour and you think a bus! Road Trip!  I love a good road trip!  Today, pinkkudzu is a stop on a tour, a blog tour! Janet Thompson is touring the word-a-sphere with her new book! Janet’s one of the smartest women I know and her books are always full of wisdom.  

Her newest book is about how to deal when the husband retires and he’s now at home. Let’s be honest, there’s a difference between loving your husband, cherishing your time together and spending every single moment with him!  We all need our space.  Check out all the info on Janet’s book and see what she has to say about handling a new life stage:

Dear God, He’s Home!

“After Ken’s layoff, I’d wake up in the night trembling with fear and sneak out of bed to sit by the fireplace with my Bible. I’d read and read until finally peace came . . . and it always did . . . at least enough for that night.” –Deborah

THE WIFE OF A STAY-AT-HOME man is going to talk to God—a lot!

Maybe she’ll write a cathartic letter in her journal: Dear God,. . . . Another wife might begin her pleading or thankful prayers with “Dear God,”. . . . Still other wives in times of desperation or frustration cry out, “Dear God, HE’S HOME!”

The various times my husband has been a “stay-at-home man,” I regularly expressed each of those “Dear Gods,” as do the wives who submitted stories for my book Dear God, He’s Home! A Woman’s Guide to Her Stay-at-Home Man. So if you have a stay-at-home man and he’s driving you crazy, don’t feel guilty if you haven’t always been joyous about this new closeness in your marriage relationship. And don’t feel alone. When I sent out a request for stories of women with a husband home due to retirement, illness, disability, out of work, home office, the military . . . whatever reason…the stories flowed into my inbox and my ears.

With unemployment at an all-time high, baby boomers reaching retirement age by the droves, military pulling out of many areas and returning home, businesses down-sizing or setting up virtual offices in homes, chances are pretty good you either are or know a woman with a stay-at-home man.

Myriad emotions and reactions erupt from both spouses when an otherwise out-of-the-home-every-day husband is suddenly home all day—every day. Many wives have their own label for this occurrence. In Honey, I’m Home for Good!,Mary Ann Cook calls it spouse-in-the-house syndrome. Then there’s retired-husband syndrome or military reintegration syndrome.

Every couple’s response to their unique syndrome evolves from how they’ve dealt with previous transitions in their relationship. Couples who stumbled and fumbled without finding workable resolutions in the past, will probably stumble and fumble through this new situation too. However, couples who have successfully developed and implemented coping techniques may be better equipped to adjust to a full time “stay-at-home man.” Even so, unexpected issues can blindside both spouses.

 

Game Changer

There’s no age qualifier for a husband suddenly being home 24/7. Sometimes it comes as a shock like a layoff or illness and other times it’s the natural progression of expected retirement or return from deployment. Whatever the reason, even when we know it’s coming, the reality of a hubby being home full-time is disarming. A woman recently wrote me:

My dad has just announced that he’ll be retiring the end of March, so I’m excited to read your book and send it along to my mom afterwards. We didn’t handle his retirement from the Marine Corps so well 20 years ago. I was just laughing about it with him on the phone today, but he has better laid plans to transition out this time around.

Planning is essential, if you have that luxury. Each time my husband has been home, it’s always been a surprise and no time to plan. It hit us both hard and we struggled through adapting to the transitions and changes we each experienced.

For Better or For Worse but Not For Lunch

The universal frustration expressed by wives of stay-at-home husbands: he’s invading “my space” and my work load is increasing while his is decreasing. The prospect of fixing lunch every day can push a wife over the top.  John expresses the lament of many wives:

When I retired from the Navy (and was a stay at home retiree) my wife (after a few weeks) said, “I promised for better or worse, but I didn’t promise lunch every day. Go out and get another job. So I did…

                                                           

Not every husband can go out and get another job, at least not right away. Instead of feeling resentful or overwhelmed, we wives need to put into perspective issues like lunch or helping with household duties and discuss with our husbands in the same way we would discuss a major decision or planning a trip—talk it out. Dear God, He’s Home! has discussion questions at the end of each chapter to get the talking started. In the Sanity Tools section, there’s also a Leader’s Guide to use the questions in support groups or book clubs.

 

Words of Wisdom from Wives with a Stay-at-Home Man

• Make each day the best it can be. You don’t know how many days you’ll have left together. —Alice
• Understand where your husband is at in his life and don’t make his retirement or at-home-experience miserable. —Alice
• Don’t belittle or put down your husband—build him up. Find out his concerns and needs, don’t just focus on your own. —Alice
• Communicate your needs honestly and lovingly. —Joan
• When shopping together, pick a store that also has sporting, gardening, or electronic departments and let your husband browse or send him to find something. —Sue
• What’s important to your spouse should also be important to you and what’s important to God should be important to both of you! —Janet (me)

My Stay-at-Home Man Shares

My husband, Dave, selflessly understood that I would have to write vulnerably and honestly about our messes and ourmiracles. In the Epilogue of Dear God, He’s Home!, Dave offers this closing advice:

So I leave you with these final words: Living with your spouse in stay-at-home man seasons of life, while different, is no more challenging than any other season of married life. You just have to constantly die to self as God teaches us, consider your spouse more important than yourself, and work as a team. I like the wise council I gleaned from Promise Keepers years ago and ultimately conveyed to my son, sons-in-law, and men’s small group studies—marriage isn’t a 50/50 proposition as proposed by some, but 100/0. If you give 100% and expect zero in return, you’ll grow to love your spouse as Christ loved the church, and your marriage will thrive.

 

To read a snippet of Dear God, He’s Home! A Woman’s Guide to Her Stay-at-Home Man: http://tinyurl.com/dxb4whq

To Purchase: Available at all bookstores, online bookstores such as Amazon http://t.co/haUovX2X9r, and signed at Janet’s website store http://womantowomanmentoring.com/shop.

This article includes excerpts from Dear God, He’s Home! A Woman’s Guide to Her Stay-at-Home Man (New Hope Publishers)—the third book in the “Dear God,” series by author and speaker Janet Thompson. Janet is the founder of Woman to Woman Mentoring and the author of seventeen books, including: Dear God, They Say It’s Cancer, Dear God, Why Can’t I Have a Baby?, Praying for Your Prodigal Daughter, The Team That Jesus Built, and the Face-to-Face Bible study series. All of Janet’s books are available at bookstores, online bookstores, and signed by her athttp://womantowomanmentoring.com/shop.

 

Janet and her stay-at-home man, Dave, are enjoying this season of life in the rural mountains of Idaho.

 

Visit Janet at:

www.womantowomanmentoring.com

www.facebook.com/Janetthompson.authorspeaker

http://www.linkedin.com/in/womantowomanmentoring/

www.pinterest.com/thompsonjanet

https://twitter.com/AHWministries

 

Dear God, He’s Home! blog Tour Information:

About the Author:

Janet Thompson, founder and director of About His Work Ministries, is the author of 17 books and the recognized author of the “Dear God” book series. Janet developed the Woman to Woman Mentoring Ministry at Saddleback Church, served as a lay minister for 12 years, and continues to share the blessings of mentoring through her Woman to Woman Mentoring resources, trainings, and speaking events.

 

Janet and her stay-at-home husband, Dave, have four married children and love being Grammie and Grampa to 11 beautiful grandchildren. After living in California her entire live, Dave’s retirement led Janet and Dave to move to the rural mountains of Idaho. Janet invites you to visit her website and blog at www.womantowomanmentoring.com

 

WEBSITE | TWITTER | FACEBOOK

 

About the Book:

A husband is now home 24/7 and the wife needs help ASAP!

 

Regardless of the reason he’s home—out of work . . . retired . . . home office . . . returned from military deployment . . . disability or illness . . . whatever—wives of stay-at-home husbands share many of the same transitional and heart adjustments.

 

Dear God, He’s Home! is a practical and raw look at issues couples go through when a husband is suddenly home full time. Sharing openly from personal experience and through Scripture, Janet Thompson encourages wives to joyfully embrace their God-ordained marriages.

 

The book also includes personal thought questions, discussion questions for couples, and a small-group or book club discussion guide.

Purchase Link:

AMAZON or at http://womantowomanmentoring.com/publications/shop/

Book Excerpt: 

 http://tinyurl.com/dxb4whq

Book Trailer Link:

 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z0-gnbZrHAE

 

 Book Trailer Code:

 

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Dear God, He’s Home! Tour Page:

 http://www.pumpupyourbook.com/2013/02/05/pump-up-your-book-presents-dear-god-hes-home-virtual-book-publicity-tour/

 

I get antsy

I get itchy when I’ve been in the house for a few weeks. I’ve been stuck at home with pneumonia. I’ve shopped all the websites I can. I’ve written articles, came up with all sorts of little things to do while being still. But now that I’m beginning to feel better and the weather is gorgeous, I’m antsy to get out in the world.

 

My broken foot has been hurting for the last 2 days and someone suggested I get a pedicure to try to help that out. Great idea, I thought. So once again I submitted myself to the tortuous world of nail salons.

 

I’m a nice person. I try to be sweet. I tip generously. But nail salons have it out for me. What should be a pleasant experience always lands me in a fit of mad!  No different today.

 

As I’m sitting in the comfy massage chair, my nose begins to run, coughing follows. My throat begins to close up.  Here’s the conversation that followed:

 

Me:  Are you using latex gloves?

Nail stylist: Yes, are you allergic?

Me:  Yes, very.

Off come the gloves, and the pedicure ends.  Meanwhile, I’m puffing on my inhaler wondering if I can make to fresh air outside and wishing I had my epi pin.  When my breathing regulates…

Me:  Why do you even have latex gloves here?

Nail stylist: We use them because the chemicals turn our hands red.

Me:  Well, latex can kill people.

Nail stylist: We buy in bulk and the latex is cheaper.

Me:  Latex isn’t cheaper for me!

 

I gather my belongings and head for the door. The nail stylist hands me a bill for a COMPLETE pedicure.

Me:  REALLY????

I hand her my card (I just want to get out of there at this point!!!).  As I get up, the floor is wet. I slip on my already hurting foot, jam my foot into the sink busting my toe open and landing ungraciously in the foot tub.  No apology followed. Neither did any help. Neither did a tip.

 

I stop at Walgreens on the way home. I’m minding my own business. There’s a young airman in front of me buying a jar of grape jelly, a loaf of bread, and quart of milk. My heart goes out to him but I’m still in a tizzy from the nail salon.

 

That still small voice inside of me says, “Ask him if you can pay for his purchases.”

Me:  Really? Because I just wasted a lot of money and I have a right to be mad still.  Don’t I get to be a victim at least until my toe stops bleeding?

Still small voice:  “Just do it.”

So I did.

The look on the airman’s face washed away all my wanting to be a victim. It took away my mad. His face reminded me what’s important in life. It’s not that my toes got did. It’s about seeing others as God sees them and loving on them.

Afterwards, the cashier thanked me for what I’d done, she had tears in her eyes.

Sweet.