#Mom For Hire

photo 2

Posted: MOM FOR HIRE, used but in acceptable condition.  Still capable of giving unwanted advice, making you wear a hat in the cold, and generally being an embarrassment in public. Does not do windows.  Inquire below–

That title is almost as pretentious as tagging myself as a “writer”.  But if so, it’s probably of little consequence, due to the nature of the blogosphere.  It’s not like being in high school when you had to read something and do a book report (I wonder if they still do that??)  And I know that this post is mere nano-particle in a galaxy of worm holes and flashy comets (yes, I was a Star Trek fan back in the day–the original version, to be clear.)

And yet, there is something to be said about starting my twenties by having three babies and ending that decade with selling Girl Scout cookies while putting their father through grad school.  (I.U.-Bloomington, go big red!)  My thirties were filled with prepubescence and flaming adolescence, braces, sporting events, and the task of helping the girls “find themselves”, despite the unfortunate fact that I didn’t even know myself that well yet.  That’s right, we have no sons, and I was informed that our house rules were “strict” by their friends’ parents’ standards.  My home became know as “the Convent” and I was nicknamed (affectionately, I hope) “Mother Superior”.  

Forty-something was the transitioning from a full house to my little goslings flying off to college one at a time.  I remember the night of my actual “empty nest” experience.  Our baby girl, Heather, was on her way out the door for her first night in her new dorm room.  Now granted, all the girls spent their first two years of collegiate existance at the small college where their dad is a prof.  Basically, down the street and around the corner.  But still, this was a bit of a milestone…at least for me!  Goodbye hugs, etc. No more boom boxes competing on different levels of the house.  No more choir concerts, band concerts, and various awards ceremonies at the high school. No more prom dresses, monthly allowances, or staying up waiting from someone to make it home by curfew.  Wow.

The college starts their year like most, in August.  Here in southern Missouri, August is not the most pleasant month, unless you’re a tropical iguana.  Naturally, Heather’s dorm room was hot and sweaty since she was living on one of the upper floors.  It wasn’t long (a few hours, max) before I picked up the phone hearing a request to bring herself and two or three of her new friends “home” to spend that night in the cool air-conditioning. 

The empty nest can be a bit overrated anyway…

People tend to refer to life stages as “seasons.”  My life is better described as “spasms”.  I am now in my mid-fifties, gray-er, somewhat more experienced.  I have grown to appreciate my parents, who are now in their 80’s, and the humor through which they process life.  I have grown to value my past struggles and mistakes, and embrace whatever God has for me (and my family) for the future.  

So there.  If you are over-heating in life, or even if not, I invite you to join my blog-nest, thoughts (and responses) from a well-used mother, from my home to yours.    —-    dawnlizjones

Still pouring….

pixabay
pixabay

There’s a small(er) town near here with water that, um…smells.  Water isn’t really supposed to taste, much less smell, at least in my thinking.  I would go on record by warning anyone who visits this place to definitely not buy a fountain drink in town.  I am told that our town used to have water-plus also.  Sometime in the semi-recent past, the town fathers decided to go with something called “third-stage water treatment”.  I don’t know what that means, and although I still like to have bottled water in the house when we have guests, I’m definitely okay with drinking our H2O for myself, especially after visiting our little neighbor a few miles away.  Water of course, even the odiferous kind, is life-sustaining. Perspective, I guess.

Water is an apt comparison that Isaiah uses when he speaks of “pouring out that with which you sustain your own life”, as mentioned in last the couple of blogs.  We have important talents and experiences and qualities that help make us who we are, and we need to unafraid to share those when the opportunities arise.  But here’s an additional thought:

Lest I think Isaiah’s encouragement is giving me carte blanche for making my big splash in the world, a cautionary note is in order.  It can be quite tempting, after identifying  what seems to be a special talent or personal  “pearl”, to allow (or even worse, promote) myself as the focus in the situation.  I love the account of Peter and John after Jesus had risen, hung out for a few days and then returned home.  These two newly renewed men were walking into the temple when they saw a beggar, lame and sitting by the building asking for money.   Now lots of us grew up with the Sunday school song that was Peter’s reply, “silver and gold have I none, but such as I have, give I thee: in the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, rise up and walk!”  And the end result was pretty cool.

But what a lot of us old time Sunday-schoolers might have missed, is actually the first thing Peter said to the beggar.  He said,

“Look at us!”

After which, he proceeded with the other words (although I doubt that he sang them….)  My point is this—the reason for any attention being on me is not about me, at all.  I may have the best tasting, thirst quenching water ever created, but the water itself belongs to the One who created it; in fact, to put it succinctly, Jesus calls Himself the “living water.”  Now, I am to allow myself to be “seen”, which speaks to a certain level of vulnerability of course, but this personal visibility is to be immediately reflected upon God, who alone knows how to utilize the gifts He so wisely puts within us.

So, yeah, bottoms up!

How to follow a blog

Wow! And here I thought I had sorta crested the first hump on my very slow ascent up this mountain into the blogsphere.  Admittedly, I’m a little out of breath up here, and now people are asking how to “follow my blog”.

Well, that’s a good question. Let me pour myself another cup of tea (left over from this morning, nice and potent that way), wake up the website genie and see what he says.  Hold on, I’ll be right back….

Hmm.  Not sure that helped.  I signed up Google Plus, but my “new” facebook account is being contrary.  I’m thinking there must be a button somewhere that I’m not pushing that would make the process easier for any aspiring “social media followers” to this project.  Haven’t found it, yet.

Now, before anyone under 35 starts rolling their eyes at an old woman’s technological ineptitude, please understand that I’ve “come a long way, baby”, (to quote a commercial that played long before many of you were born.)  Case in point, a few years ago, a tech person was on the phone talking me through some problem solving steps for my computer at work.  I knew they were speaking English, I just knew it–had the right American accent and everything.  But alas, communication was a bit of a challenge.

And so, by way of apology, I offer this olive branch:

There once was a broad from Ne-VAA-duh,

Who could really grow a to-MAA-duh

But it was really a slog

To follow her blog

And quite a bit irritate-ah.  (Okay, so YOU find something that rhymes with Nevada, as in Missouri!)

Now, if that doesn’t scare you off this site, then you are either made of stout stuff, a glutton for punishment; or a family member.  Granted, I’m not a poet; that would be my husband.  In my defense, however, I have just self-published a fun, short devotional book entitled God Loves Dogs which can be viewed on Amazon (paperback or Kindle version).  My mom bought one…..thanks, Mom.

In the meantime, I will continue to try to find an easier way to “follow” this blog, in case anyone is interested.  Kind souls please feel free to send technical suggestions.  Creative souls please find another word that rhymes with, you know, Ne-VAA-duh.

Blessings—   dawnlizjones

Mom for Hire

Self-explanatory...
Self-explanatory…

Posted: MOM FOR HIRE, used but in acceptable condition.  Still capable of giving unwanted advice, making you wear a hat in the cold, and generally being an embarrassment in public. Does not do windows.  Inquire below–

That title is almost as pretentious as tagging myself as a “writer” in the new facebook page that still trying to link to this site!  But if so, it’s probably of little consequence, due to the nature of the blogosphere.  It’s not like being in high school when you had to read something and do a book report (I wonder if they still do that??)  And I know that this post is mere nano-particle in a galaxy of worm holes and flashy comets (yes, I was a Star Trek fan back in the day–the original version, to be clear.)

And yet, there is something to be said about starting my twenties by having three babies and ending that decade with selling Girl Scout cookies while putting their father through grad school.  (I.U.-Bloomington, go big red!)  My thirties were filled with prepubescence and flaming adolescence, braces, sporting events, and the task of helping the girls “find themselves”.  That’s right, we have no sons, and I was informed that our house rules were “strict” by their friends’ parents’ standards.  My home became know as “the Convent” and I was nicknamed (affectionately, I hope) “Mother Superior”.  

Forty-something was the transitioning from a full house to my little goslings flying off to college one at a time.  I remember the night of my actually “empty nest” experience.  Our baby girl, Heather, was on her way out the door for her first night in her new dorm room.  Now granted, all the girls spent their first two years of collegiate existance at the small college where their dad is a prof.  Basically, down the street and around the corner.  But still, this was a bit of a milestone…at least for me!  Goodbye hugs, etc. No more Boom Boxes competing on different levels of the house.  No more choir concerts, band concerts, and various awards ceremonies at the high school.  No more prom dresses, monthly allowances, or staying up waiting from someone to make it home by curfew.  Wow.

The college starts their year like most, in August.  Here in southern Missouri, August is not the most pleasant month, unless you’re a tropical iguana.  Naturally, Heather’s dorm was un-airconditioned, and she was living (as I recall) on the third floor.  It wasn’t long (a few hours, max) before I picked up the phone for a request to bring herself and two or three of her new friends “home” to spend that night in the cooler air. 

The empty nest can be a bit overrated anyway…

People tend to refer to life stages as “seasons.”  My life is better described as “spasms”.  I am now in my mid-fifties, gray-er, somewhat more experienced.  I have grown to appreciate my parents, who are now in their 80’s, and the humor through which they process life.  I have grown to value my past struggles and mistakes, and embrace whatever God has for me (and my family) for the future.  

So that.  If you are over-heating in life, or even if not, I invite you to join my blog-nest, thoughts (and responses) from a well-used mother, from my home to yours.    —-    dawnlizjones