Stop In The Name Of Love!!

Some things I have read have caused me to stop dead in my tracks this morning and pray for my town, our local law enforcement & those who are so consumed with fear they seem to be unable to focus on anything but that fear.

Our town has had an increase in breaks on vehicles over the last few weeks. Thieves are targeting unlocked cars and taking whatever they can quickly grab and run with. Things like cash, gifts, small things. There have been a few home breakins as well but to my knowledge no one has been home when these events have occurred. The police are working on it, it happens in every town across this nation this time of year. It is a sad reality but it is the world we live in. Satan is alive and well.

Some people (because there have been more than one) have jumped on social media in groups and proclaimed that they plan to shoot whoever is lurking around their homes. Shoot them dead. DEAD.

Now, before I go any further, please take note, highlight it if you will, that I have ZERO issue with folks defending themselves against an intruder. An actual intruder, you know one who enters your home while you are there? I for one will defend myself, my husband, children to my dying breath by any means necessary should the choice of them or me ever arise. I think we all would. Their safety is paramount. It's why we buckle our kids in car seats and monitor their online activities. And I will defend them. 

I am struggling however with the way some folks in this town have become so consumed with fear that they say they are willing to shoot people over stuff. STUFF!! 

If that person is not an active threat to your person and you shoot to kill in your driveway over some tools in your car, guess what??? You're going to go to jail. And posts about doing in before it happens can and likely will lead to a charge of premeditation. It happens daily. All because some over zealous individual takes things too far. 

I have been robbed before. It is extremely unsettling. It takes a long time to even process it let alone move on from it. But at the end of the day, they only took stuff. Replaceable stuff. They didn't harm any of us, or my pets. They took things they could sell. We weren't even home. My car has been hit twice over the years. I left it unlocked and that was all they needed. Was I mad? You better know it! Did I want my stuff back? Absolutely. Did my anger and lust for revenge change a dang thing in that situation? NOPE! It only changed me. And not for the better, I assure you. 

Fear is what is fueling this behavior I am seeing. F-E-A-R. Fear and some warped belief that our stuff is somehow way more important than human life. It's not people. 

There are families in this community who have lost everything, and I mean EVERYTHING, in recent house fires. They got out with each other and the clothes on their backs. While I know they are unhappy about losing old family pictures and favorite stuffed animals, I can promise you they could care less about any of it because they are so thankful to have survived together. It's just stuff and it can be replaced. 

There are people in this town who would in all seriousness give up everything they own to see a recently departed loved one again right now. They wouldn't hesitate if it meant seeing the one they miss so badly.

We have become such a people of stuff that we are willing to threaten to kill folks AT CHRISTMAS over stuff. What the thieves are doing is wrong, there is no defense for their actions but if we call ourselves Christians, then there is also no defense we can offer for behaving so badly over things of this world. Stuff. Like it or not, this behavior and talk is extremely un Christlike. It's just sad. 

I refuse to be consumed by fear and I also refuse to be so materialistic that I place human life at a less valuable rate than my tv or the change in my cars console.

Need I remind everyone that Joseph & Mary were going from place to place makings ruckus in the middle of the night because they so desperately needed a place to rest right before the very Savior many of you claim to follow was born? Think about it. The inn keeper could have followed fear but he didn't. 

We would all do well to remember that it was a thief who in his agony on his own cross, next to a crucified Christ, called out to his Lord and Jesus saved him as well. A thief. Think on that.

Luke 2: 10  Then the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid, for behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy which will be to all people. 11 For there is born to you this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord. 

Stop letting fear steal your joy this Christmas. Fear is lethal to your soul. God loves us, we have zero to fear. Put a little love in your hearts folks. It's life changing. 

Merry Christmas, 

Sandy

Pie = Love

Today is our day to celebrate Thanksgiving with our Herd. As we prepare for our meal, my cousins an entire state away are sitting down to eat as well yet we will all be eating the same meal. Well at least a part of it. 

Today I taught 2 of my daughters to make a my Grandmothers pumpkin pie as my dear cousin Tonda made it for their gathering, each not knowing what the other was up to. Funny how that happens, isn't it? My Grandmothers pumpkin pie is smelling so good as it bakes.

It seems like a silly thing to be so excited about. I guess to most folks it's just a pie. It's so much more to us. It's a piece of her, a piece of our childhood. Before life got crazy and so busy we seem to only see each other at funerals. It's a reminder. A reminder of what's important. Family.

Grandmother is gone now, as are so many we cherished but they live on, really  they do. They live on in each of us. In our smiles, in our eyes and yes even in the pumpkin pies we make. Little pieces of love left to guide us on without them.

So this year, as I bite into that first piece of Grandma's pie, I will give thanks for her teaching me so much more than a great pie recipe. I will thank God for all the love she showered us all with. It's that love that makes a simple pie so delicious. 

Happy Thanksgiving everyone and to my cousins who now share the secret recipe, enjoy a slice for me!

Much love, Sandy 

Better Than Myself

Tonight as Hoss, Tucker & I met with the man who will be our pastor over the next few months, our conversation turned to Hoss' home church, First Christian Church in Wellington, TX. It also turned to talking about the wisdom of his Grandmother, Elise. Granny Grunt as we all called her.

Her Bible was pulled out from the spot it was placed for safe keeping and brought to the table. This particular Bible was a gift from Hoss' sweet mother, Cheryl back in 1965. Her hand written note of love inside the cover still speaks volumes of the love & special bond the two of them shared. I have see that note probably 15 times since Grunt passed in 2009. What I had not seen before tonight was the writing a little further in the Bible on another page. I don't know why I had never seen it. I have held that Bible so many times over the years and carefully turned its fragile, time worn pages with reverence. Reverence for not only the Holy Word encased inside the leather binding but for the woman whose hands opened it so many times for answers to her problems. She is why that Bible is falling apart and I loved her for that.

Tonight, I found her aging handwriting strung together in a prayer to her Lord. She wrote this prayer as an older woman. A woman who had been through so much pain in life. She had buried her husband, she had buried her daughter (Hoss' mother), she had seen so many people come and go. It cannot have been easy to be last. That pain made her bitter at times. But how could we possibly blame her for that. Pain is cruel and it changes you.  But, even in those moments, she wanted so much to not be what came easy to her. She wanted to be better.

Tonight, I read her prayer and it reduced me to tears.

Now, I do not know these words are hers originally but my heart knows they are hers wholly. As a read her prayer, I saw her. I saw her heart, so open, so honest, struggling to be who she wanted to be in spite of who she was. I also saw myself.

She and I were a lot alike. Both hot headed & stubborn. Both fierce when it comes to our family. Both loved Hoss more than anything. We had a great relationship until the dementia turned her away from us. It was heartbreaking then, it still hurts today.  Dementia robbed her of herself. It robbed us of her. The last few years were rough for us all. I can promise you we would do every minute over again for another day with her though. I would not trade anything for the memories we have from being there with her all the time. She was a one of a kind and we miss her so.

Tonight, Grunt gave me one last gift. She gave me a little piece of her to recall in those times of struggle. She reminded me of who I can be even when the temptation of self is strong. I am writing this prayer in my Bible because while it was her prayer, it has become mine. Who knows, someday my granddaughter may find herself in the writing of this prayer in my Bible.

Thank you Granny Grunt, your "vast wisdom" lives on. But you already knew that, didn't you? May I follow your lead and work hard to be better than myself.


Here is her earnest prayer, word for word:

"Lord thou knowest that I am growing older. Keep me from becoming talkative and possessed with the idea that I must express myself on every subject. 
Release me from the craving to straighten out everyone's affairs. Keep me from the recital of endless detail. Give me the wings to get to the point.
Seal my lips when I am inclined to tell of my aches and pains; they are increasing with the years and my love of speaking of them grows sweeter as time goes by.
Teach me the glorious lesson that occasionally I may be wrong. 
Make me thoughtful but not nosey, helpful but not bossy. With my vast wisdom and experience it does seem a pity not to use it all .
But thou knowest Lord that I want a few friends at the end."

Our Silicon Marriage

When we got married, my love gave me his late mother's bridal set and his father gave me his golden band to give Hoss. I have always cherished my sweet mother-in-laws rings, even though I never had the joy of knowing her personally. She was a wonderful, beautiful woman and the fact that Hoss wanted me to wear her rings just made me feel so very special. I know what she meant to him and it showed me how deeply he loved and trusted me. I will guard those rings closely the rest of my life and he feels the same way about the one his mother so lovingly gave his father all those years ago. Neither of us wear our rings often because, well, mine are tight these days and he has always been worried about injury or losing his.

A few days back some new wedding band from Qalo.com arrived in the mail. I was so excited because they are so cool! These bands are designed for active people, people with dangerous jobs, (like Hoss) or just folks who can't wear metal bands for whatever reason. Qalo bands are made of silicon and are just the best! Ours are their Thin Red Line series designed for firemen. I purchased one for Hoss and one for myself, seeing as I am a proud Fire Wife. 

When the rings arrived I tried mine on and was amazed at how stretchy it was but also at how it snapped right back to be a perfect, weightless fit on my finger. Then when something occurred to me. These rings were just perfect for Hoss and I. 

Our marriage is indeed like our new rings. These rings are totally ours. No one has ever worn them before, they came into this marriage just like we did, ready for whatever adventure life holds! While life has certainly stretched us to what seemed like the limit from time to time, we always snap right back into shape. Never breaking, only bending when we needed to. Even the way it feels is like us. We don't have to smother each other to know we are loved. Love should be lightweight and feel like the most natural thing in the world. 

The red line that runs in the middle of both bands represents the commitment we have not only to each other but to his passion and his line of duty. As the wife of a fireman I can promise you that commitment needs to come from both of us. His commitment to service and mine to him as he serves. Wholeheartedly and without reservation, I have his back and he always protects me, as it should be.

These small bands you see in my hand represent our marriage so well. They represent us in every way possible. No matter what situation life throws at us, we tighten our grip, set our hearts to the end goal and never let anything break the bond we share. Some days we have to stretch a little make it work but we never give up. We have been through so much over the years but our bond is a strong as ever.  

Strong and built to go the distance, these rings are just like us. 

"SOMEBODY"

Seems all some folks can say talk about these days is somebody.  Been hearing a lot of somebody should have been there, somebody should have helped, somebody should do something lately and it has gotten me to thinking about this issue.

Have you ever stopped to think about what you are saying when you see that homeless man begging and you think "somebody will bring him some food" as you hurry on your way to yoga class? Or how "somebody" should do something about those kids who you see after school hours just roaming the streets as you drop your child off at dance? Better yet, "somebody" should have gotten to that fire call faster and done more to help that family who just lost everything, all while you live across the street from the station and have never darkened the door.

You are right, you know. Somebody should have stepped up. That somebody should have been you.

In the middle of the very word somebody are the letters m & e. Together those letters spell Me. Every time you say somebody what you are really saying is you should be doing whatever it is you think needs done.

Before you complain about kids roaming, ask yourself, is there a local program that might need more volunteers in order to let more kids into the program? Ask yourself is there a talent I have that I could teach to those kids, some books I could read to them, some time I could invest so that they know somebody cares? I bet there is.

Before you shift your eyes downward at the homeless person, ask yourself, do I really need that latte more than they need a sandwich? Do I need that $100 pair of jeans more than they need a blanket to keep out the cold? Ask yourself is there a shelter, a food bank, a church outreach that I could invest my time into so that they know somebody cares? I bet there is.

And lastly, before you complain about a perceived slow response to an emergency call, (be it a medical one, a police run or a fire call), ask yourself when the last time you jumped out of bed at 3am to the sound of a shrill alarm, or left a meal at a restaurant you just paid for, perhaps your first of the day & its now 4 pm, donned protective gear, fought traffic that refuses to yield to you even though your lights and sirens blare? Ask yourself when was the last time you held a mother back with all your might because your fellow firemen where trying to gain entry and save her child all while she fights you to go in herself? Ask yourself when did you last help fix a broken truck because a mechanic to do it just isn't in the tiny budget you have to work with? Ask yourself if there is anything, anything at all you can do to help the emergency workers in your community? I bet there is.

I know there is. Know why I know? Because you are Somebody. I am Somebody. I come from a long line of Somebodies. Somebodies who see a need and fill it. We don't do for the praise or the glory. We do it because its the right thing to do. After all, Somebodies got to do it, right?

It easy to act like others are not doing right when in fact they are doing more than you are. How would you know they are not doing all they can when you are doing nothing yourself? All you are doing is complaining about a job you aren't even willing to do your own self. This is what's wrong with our world today. Way too much finger pointing and not enough hand lifting.

The simple truth is this. I know some folks can't physically herd children, fight fires, or stand out for hours handling out blankets but everyone and I mean everyone can contribute something. If you are not willing to volunteer your time, your talents, your resources or your money, then you have no right to complain about how things are handled. And you have zero right to critique those who do step up. Zero.

Next time you feel the urge to complain, check yourself. Ask what you can do to fix the problem. Maybe you can't do it on your own, but you sure as heck won't fix it if you never try.

"It's Those Damn Foreigners! They Need To Go Back Where They Came From!"

Pretty inflammatory title, huh? Bound to catch some attention, raise some eyebrows, that sort of thing. Good. I hope it does because I want the entire world to read what lesson I am about to teach.

Yesterday while making a visit to the town that will be our new home, Hoss, the youngest 2 children and I were verbally accosted by a woman whom we do not know, for reasons we also do not know. Her exact words to us after my husband smiled at her and said "Howdy", where "Get the HELL out of Ball" as she angrily stormed past us into in the building we had just come out of.

 Now, assuming there are some people reading this that are unfamiliar with the term howdy, I  can assure you it is a greeting that simply means hello. Add the warm, big smile Hoss has to it and there is a less than zero chance that the greeting can be construed as anything but nice and inviting.  

As this person left our person space, I turned to my husband in shock and asked him to clarify what I just knew I could not have heard. He told me my ears did not lie to me & that she had even told him to go home at the meeting in which he was hired, telling the "outsider" to "go home"  while hurling several other expletives his direction. I was shocked to say the least. I knew some did not want us in Ball because they are mad but never in my wildest dreams did I think it would be taken as far as it was on that sidewalk, in front of my children. This woman, then opened the door, screamed her name at us and once again, angrily stormed off.

Please recall that we have never met this woman. We have never interacted with her on any level. We have done absolutely nothing to this woman to make her react so violently, so rudely, so hatefully towards us and our children. Nothing.  All we have done is apply for a job, got the job, and are in the process of moving there, paying taxes there, shopping there, etc. Bare this in mind as I continue this post. 

Flash forward to this morning, here in Winnsboro, La. I decide to stop in at our local Subway for a sandwich for my son and I. As I arrived there is a woman who appears to be having some issue with her credit card not working and had gone to her car to call the company. She comes back into the restaurant, walks to the register and proceeds to tell the manager (I know this is the lady that runs it, seen her many many times) "its those DAMN foreigners! They need to go back where they came from!" as she pays for her sandwich finally. To which the manager agrees with her, mentioning how "they" can't speak the language, etc. It is at this point, that I lost my temper.

I turned to the lady and said "You know what? Half of my family was forced onto Reservations and the other half came over on a boat and I take MAJOR offence to what you just said!" 

This woman has the nerve to turn to me, obviously not understanding what I actually said, and says "that's what I mean! Its those foreigners!" At this point the manager, who is smart enough to catch my meaning, although its not like it was muddled, starts backing out of the conversation.

I then proceed to explain to this ignorant woman that unless she is a 100 % Native American, which she clearly is NOT, that she herself came from IMMIGRANTS and she should be ashamed of herself. I told her that this entire country was started by immigrants and that her attitude was extremely offensive!  I also told her that had it not been for Immigrants, she herself would not be here to complain about it now!  She stuttered, grabbed her sandwich and dang near ran out the door. Guess she wasn't expecting the Great Great-Grandchild of an Native man to nail her in the Subway for being an idiot. The manager tried to change the subject then another employee walked in and she shoved me off on them under the guise of having to go get an employee (her son) for work. 

I told the other employee what happened and that I was no a happy camper. I was told by that employee that sometimes you just have too "let things go". I told her no I did not. Because it was wrong and I have a problem with wrong. I will not be visiting that Subway again. Not because of the customer because you can't help what walks in your door but because the manager joined in the hate and I was told it was not a big deal. 

Now, I have an honest question for anyone who reads this blog. How many of you read the 1st part and got angry at how unfairly this one woman treated me & my family? I would venture a guess most of you did. Why is that? Because it was wrong of that woman to act the way she did to total strangers who have done nothing to her personally. 

Now, another question. How many of you think the words of the customer and manager at Subway where wrong? Not as many as who think the woman on the sidewalk was wrong, I would be willing to bet. Why is that? The two incidences are the same. 

Some will argue that what happened to me is not the same as the woman in Subway but the truth is, its the exact same hate. It's hate people. Hate. Unfounded, unnecessary, hate. That woman showed us how much she hates us though she has no legitimate reason to do so. The women in Subway showed me how much they hate immigrants even though they have no legitimate reason to do so. 

The woman on the sidewalk hates us because of things she has been told that are untrue. She hates us because we aren't "from there" and are "outsiders". Most of y'all know us. You know how hard working we are. You know we are very community minded. You know we are a good, honest family. She thinks otherwise and for no reason. That's not right is it? No it's not. 

When you spout off about people who immigrate here to the USA, you are no better than that woman who was hateful to us. You are being mean to someone mother, someones child, someones husband or wife. You lump every immigrant into one box and you label them. Just like she has done with us. 

So many people come here legally. They pay taxes, they work hard, they just want a new life and a chance. They aren't asking you to be their best friend but I personally don't think just basic human decency is asking too much. Just like we are asking from the town we are moving to. 

I refuse, do you hear me, refuse to judge the entire town of Ball based on the actions of one person. I also refuse to judge all immigrants based on the ones who are here illegally and cause trouble. Guess what? People who where born here cause trouble too. 

Don't assume because I am white, straight and vote Independent that I agree with you because I don't. Hate is wrong. It has never been right and it never will be. 

Think about what you are showing someones child when you spew hate at people you don't even know. Think about what you are saying about your community, your church, your own family when you spew hate at someone you don't even know. Think about it. 

Jesus said love thy neighbor not only love the neighbor who was born where you were. 

I didn't post this to start an immigration debate. I posted it so you can see that what happened to us happens to others in the country every day, many, many times over. It is wrong. Immigrants aren't the problem. Outsiders aren't the problem. 

The condition of our hearts is the problem.  

Leaving Home

As I sit trying to once again collect my thought, listening to Elton John Radio on iHeartRadio, I am reminded of the last time I was packing my house up for a major move. I was in our home on Childress St in Wellington, Tx, crying over some boxes. Bennie & the Jets was playing through our old turntable. 

I did not want to be packing. I resented every box, every run of tape, every whiff of marker as I packed away our life in preparation for a new start. I had just moved here 3 1/2 years earlier when we got married. Packed up my whole life and moved 9 hours & 600 miles from all I ever knew, 3 kids in tow. We had settled in Wellington and it was home. 

 Wes had gotten laid-off from a job he loved, we were broke and there was just no conceivable way to stay any longer if we were to survive as a family. It was heartbreaking at the time and I just didn't see anything worse than leaving his hometown, uprooting our kids from their home, and starting over in a place I knew nothing about. 

 I fought the move, worse than our children did, I won't lie.  He seemed to be the only one confident in what we were doing.  He had lived in this place called Winnsboro for a year or two in the past and had visited many times growing up. His grandparents lived there, his Dad was from there, he was certain it was going to be okay eventually. Me? Not so much. He was right. (yes, I just publicly admitted my husband was right. Mark that on a calendar! lol)

There was a lot of hurt in that tiny Texas town for Hoss and it was time for him to leave it behind. His family was all gone. The grandmother he loved and cared for had passed. He was all that was left. His job was gone (no fault of his employer, the economy was tough. They were and still are good people and we miss them.). The department he grew up in, dedicated 16 years to, didn't even so much as say bye when he resigned his post.  His heart was so broken and he had been so let down by people he thought were different. It seemed no one cared if we left and I guess that added to the hurt. We knew our friends (they know who they still are) didn't want us to go but they understood why it was time.  It just wasn't the Wellington he grew up in anymore. 

So, countless boxes of our things, appliances, bicycles, toys, 5 kids, 2 dogs, a cat, a Suburban and a pickup, we left "home" and moved to Winnsboro, Louisiana. 

When we pulled out of Texas, I couldn't bare to look back. As much as it killed me to see my kids cry as the said good-bye to their friends, I guess a part of me knew that they'd be okay in time. We would settle into a new normal and we had no time for looking back. It served no purpose.  

Funny how we thought we were leaving home. Funny how we had no idea 6 short years later we would be once again taking this journey, only to discover we just thought we were leaving home last time.  This time, oh, this time how it hurts so much more. 

We have found something here that we have never be able to find anywhere else. We have found what was missing.  We have found family. It hurts to leave family.

So many here have been there to lift us up, to help us when we didn't even know we needed help. So many have shown us love in ways they don't even realize. Our children have too many Aunts & Uncles to count these days. I know in my heart who loves us and who means it when they say "if you need anything, just holler". 

Saturday evening, Hoss' brothers called him the station. We arrived to find it packed with people, all there to wish us well as we start this new journey.  In true Franklin Parish style, we ate fried catfish with all the trimmings, Kool-Aid pies, tea & a cake the size of a small car hood!

I know these guys didn't think it was anything monumental, this gathering they pulled off but they are so wrong. They will never, ever, understand what it meant to Wes, to me. We are so very proud to be a part of this community, this parish and this family. I just do not have the words to tell you how loved these people are by us.  I pray they know that even though we are leaving, we will never be far away. 

As we prepare to move to Ball, La and start a new life, a piece of us is staying in Franklin Parish. After all, it's home. I won't say good-bye, I just can't. 

From the bottom of my heart, thank you. Thank you for loving us and showing it. We love you all.

Sandy

  

Little Black Band

Take a look at this picture. That's my fingers, a strip of black elastic, a needle and some thread. I'm sure you think I have some new craft project up my sleeve. You'd be wrong.

 

This simple piece of elastic means so much more than meets the eye . It is in fact a glimpse into a deep seated tradition. A tradition carried, out time and time again in the fire service.  Why do I show you this picture? Because this past week, we had to bring this tradition to the forefront as we laid to rest one of our own. You see, my husband's Chief with the Winnsboro FD passed away last Sunday morning. 

Chief Hutto had been sick for months but I don't think anyone really thought he would leave so soon. I guess you always think there is more time. Time to do what needs doing, say what needs saying but sometimes it just doesn't go the way you plan. He left behind 6 grown daughters, a wife, a huge family and so many friends that the church was nearly standing room only at his service. Willard was so well known, people came from all over the state to pay their respects and it was a real testament to his life. 

Admittedly, I did not know Chief Hutto all that well.  We did not socialize and hang out with him or his family but there was still a bond there. A bond that all firemen and their families share. It's hard to explain that bond to those who have never lived this life.

 Police officers understand it. Soldiers understand it. Have you ever noticed people looking at others in the mall, the grocery store, and they just nod at each other as they walk by?  You know they don't know each other but it almost seems like they do? It seems odd to the outside world but they do in fact know each other. One may wear a Vietnam Vet hat and the other a Operation Iraqi Freedom one. One wears a fire department t shirt while the other sports a SWAT shirt. You see it in their eyes if you look hard enough.

 Each one knows the other as well as they know themselves. They know the struggles, the pain, the heartbreak the other has seen and lived through. They know what is yet to come. That old vet sees his buddies that are now names on a wall in that young soldier's face, knowing he has no clue just what he signed up for. The cop sees the rookie she once was before the abused women and kids, the drivers who had too much to drink and the insults hurdled at her for wearing a badge became what keeps her up a night, making it hard to sleep soundly. The fireman sees the probie, so full of enthusiasm not realizing it fades so fast as the calls start to run together and you discover you can't save everyone, no matter how badly you want to.

There may be different colored lines but the black in that piece of elastic in my fingers represents that bond. That little piece of elastic is placed around a badge as a symbol of mourning but also one of endurance and hope. Every time one of these black bands is lovingly put into use, it is a sign to the rest of those who serve that we lost one of our own. It is a sign that we will protect their memory and honor them by carrying on. Death will never stop those who serve from rising up and continuing on. It just doesn't have that kind of power. That little black band is very nearly the strongest bond on Earth, second only perhaps to a parents love for their child or God's love for us.

As a fireman's wife, funerals of lost brothers are harder than most. My mind goes places it shouldn't when I stand silently by my husband's side as Last Call is sounded, the bell rings out and Taps plays, fighting to hold it together, to be strong for him. While I pray daily he is a crabby old man when that day comes, I know someday that same sea of uniforms, loved ones and badges wrapped in black bands will be for my love. I also know that the bond that holds us now as a fire family will be there to catch us and hold us tight if God forbid the worst happens. 

As you go about your week, say a prayer for the Hutto family. Losing a loved one is never easy. Pray for the Winnsboro FD as they pick up their gear, get in the trucks and go about being silent heroes to an unseeing world. All the while, trying to heal their broken hearts. Rest easy Chief Hutto, your men have it from here. 

#proudfirefamily

New Job, New Town, New Adventure.

  Wow has it been a while since I blogged anything or what? I am not expressly sure just how time has slipped by so quickly but it certainly has. So much has happened in the life of the Anders Herd over the last few months. Big changes are coming for us but we are ready.

  Hoss applied for a Chief's position in the small town of Ball, La. He applied, met the requirements, and got the job. My love is now officially the Fire Chief of the Ball Fire Department! I could not be prouder!!! He is such a dedicated fireman. He eat, sleeps & breaths the fire service. It is just who he is. If the town gives him a fair chance, they will be so happy with him as their Chief. Change is hard, its harder when you refuse to even try so please pray for the folks in Ball. Some are really having a hard time with the changes and are going way beyond the norm to cause issues where, in reality, there are none. 

  This new job means unfortunately, that a move is in our near future. We are having a hard time finding a rental due to restrictions on how far away from the town line we can live. Rent is insanely high, I'm talking $1000 a month for a 1960's FHA house! Not sure how its going to work out but I do know that we haven't been carried this far to be put down now. God will provide us with the right place in his time, of that I am certain. The packing has started in Faith that He has us something just around the corner!

  We have another daughter set to graduate in June, the boy turns 16 in a week and our 2nd daughter is engaged to be married. I used to joke about how neat it was they were all a year apart and how they would all leave home quickly. Its easy to joke when they are 8, 10, 11, 12, & 13 and you do 35 loads of laundry a week. You are just tired and need a break but then you look up and your job as full time Mom is nearly over.

  What I wouldn't give to go back to those days of ball games & sleep overs. Days of colds that seemed to just recycle through the house over and over, and the chicken pox...oh dear Lord the chicken pox! Dinner every night, yes we ate at the table every night as a family. We said Grace and some of our best memories and inside jokes have come from countless meals around the table, (yellow rice). I miss searching for "Woofy", assigned seats in the old Suburban so they couldn't fight over who sat where last time, so many shoes by the front door you've thought it was a thrift store shoe rack. So many things you don't even think about missing until they are gone. Kids make you crazy. They give you mini-heart attacks on a regular basis and where do you think grey hairs come from? It's crazy being a mom. Its even crazier to discover that all of those things are what you end up missing the most.  

  All you moms going through the trenches today, I know its tough. I know its thankless most of the time, but I can wholeheartedly promise you that every single solitary moment, both good and bad, is worth it. I have been a mother more than half my life and I don't know how to be anything else. They made not need me to patch skinned knees, find lost toys and cheer at band half-time shows anymore but I am still their Mom. Their needs have changed but I haven't and that's okay. While its a little sad that this part of my life is winding down, I am excited to see what's coming next. 

  Pray for our family in the months to come. Lots of changes, lots of new adventures await the entire Anders Herd and we are ready! 


  I'll leave you with some pics from the last few months. Just the highlight reel, right?

 Our Christmas Card