Out of the Mouths of Babes

I had no sooner posted the vegetable soup recipe below than my four year old daughter rolled out of bed and padded in to my room for a hug and kiss. As we headed into the living room for, she looked up at me and said, "Can we go to the doughnut store for breakfast? I deserve a doughnut, Mom."

I swallowed my rising laughter and said, "Honey, do you know what 'deserve' means? It means you did something good or nice that should be rewarded. What have you done that's special and deserves a reward?"

Without missing a beat she squinched up her nose, smiled sweetly, tilted her head to one side, and said, "I'm going to let you take a shower without walking in on you and watching".

The laughter escaped this time.

And guess what?

She's going to get a doughnut for that one. :-)

County Fair

The late summer months are County Fair time in the rural South. Ours, the Stone County Fair, was a week-long affair in mid-September.

Stone county is sparsely populated (at last count, around 16,700) and very agricultural. Although our primary crop is telephone poles, we also have a lot of cattle ranches, goat farms, and a few sheep and hogs. The fair is such a big deal that public schools give the kids a day off on Friday of fair week, and everybody goes to the fair.

Unfortunately, mommies who are in college don't get Fair Day off, so my husband and I had to wait until Saturday to take our three year old daughter. She had never been to a fair, and it had been years since either my husband or I had gone.

Sofia loved the animal barns and wanted to pet every single goat, pig, sheep and cow, including the large bulls. We had to explain to her that not all of them were amenable to being petted! We all melted with tender smiles at a calf so young it still had a bit of dried-up umbilical cord on its belly.

En route to the midway we walked through the show ring and were only slightly surprised that our extrovert daughter seemed to know half of Stone County: "Hey, y'all! Oooh, look, there's Andie & Emily!! I love your boots, Emily! Oh, there's Bralee! Hey!"

She got her first carousel ride with Daddy, which was precious to watch...

And the rest was enjoyed with increasingly large grins, in spite of the love bugs!

Leavin' on a jet plane

After worrying that there might not be enough to do in Mississippi, my daughter--all in the course of two weeks of normal family living--had biked country roads, gone swimming in the creek, driven a golf cart, won a diving contest, swam in a salt water pool, attended two military retirements, gone to two backyard BBQ's, played in the water hose, caught frogs, overcame her fear of large dogs to walk ours on a leash and pet the neighbor's three, driven a four-wheeler, gone fishing, gone bargain-hunting at local haunts, was offered an apprenticeship at a local pottery studio for next summer, and discovered that at Parkers Pecans and Scrap Metal (We Buy Fur), recycling pays cash.

After the first week, she was introducing herself as "a country girl and a city girl" and had mastered the liberal use of "y'all". Her complexion was glowing, her smile was radiant, and she was truly relaxed.

After an all-too-short visit, the day came when I had to take my oldest to the airport to meet her father and fly back to his home. Both our hearts were heavy and emotions were running high, but we enjoyed some wonderful conversation along the drive to New Orleans International Airport.

About fifteen miles out of Wiggins she sighed and said, "Well, now I have to go back to GOing and DOing, instead of BEing. You know, if it weren't for the fire ants and some of the bugs, this would be just about the perfect place to live." I smiled, empathized about the biting creatures, and gently reminded her that she is in control of herself and of her life; no matter where she is, she can still make time to BE; time to connect with the green world around her, or with the stars in the heavens; time to connect with the Creator, and find her peace away from all the demands that come with busy-ness. She nodded sagely and said she was going to try. I believe that she can do anything she sets her mind to doing.

I miss her so much it physically hurts...but I believe in her. I believe that her pure, unconditionally loving heart, sustained by her faith and by the love of her family and friends, can overcome any challenge presented by this materialistic world.

I love all of my children unconditionally, and I love all of them equally. There is no favoritism here. But the bond between a mother and her firstborn is unique. We had to learn so much together, and we taught each other well. We are still teaching one another, and still learning together. Every day is an adventure in growth, in love, in laughter, sometimes in patience, and in learning. It is always a privilege, and always a joy.

On our way to the airport, we were routed through a section of New Orleans that was still comprised of mostly boarded-up homes, destroyed by flooding when the levees burst after Katrina. She was at first surprised, then saddened, then somber as she learned how long it takes to recover from a disaster of that magnitude and the subsequent bureaucratic wranglings.

Daisy, let's never stop exploring, learning, and growing together. I love you. Our bond is eternal. May every blessing of heaven be yours, today and always.

Beeping, BEing, and Scratching That Itch

I've been on the road again. Over an 8-day period I drove 3,000 miles. I'm so tired of driving that I don't even want to go three miles to the Pig(gly Wiggly) for milk! My three-year-old daughter and I once again braved the Nefarious North to visit our beloved ones, and to bring my oldest back to Mississippi for a few weeks of country livin'.

During the course of our long drive home, her cell phone was beeping every three minutes. Fingers moved fast and furious as text messages flew between her and her classmates. Most of them kept asking her every two hours, "Are you there YET?" I had to laugh--my three-year-old only asked that twice on the entire trip!

One of my daughter's friends sympathized with the boredom of the long drive, and then said he felt sorry for her because he just knew there would be nothing to do in Mississippi. She texted back, retorting that there was plenty to do in Ole Miss, hit the send button, and then looked at me questioningly: "Mom, just what is there to do in Mississippi? --Besides spend time with you, I mean?"

I laughed again, and started a long list of things she might enjoy doing during her stay with me. She looked at me a little skeptically, and came back with a list of things her friends enjoy doing in their spare time--most of which are entirely consumer-oriented and not inexpensive.

I listened, and then noted that those activities are dependent on the service and entertainment industries, all of which suffer during economic recession. Times are hard, and they are going to get harder.

I posed this challenge to my thirteen-year-old daughter: "You are used to a lifestyle based on GOing and DOing. What would happen if you had to adopt a lifestyle based on BEing? Could you create your own diversions? Could you grow to fully appreciate the miraculous, interconnected world in which we live?"

We rode in silence for a while. I noted that in the rural South, life is based more on BEing. People tend to be more aware of their connection with, and dependence upon, the Earth. Most of us in the country have the opportunity to be more self-sustaining than people who live in cities, and can therefore be less impacted by hard times.

I went on to tell her that she has a unique opportunity in life: to experience both sides of the coin, since one parent lives in a large northern city and one parent lives in a small town in the rural South. By learning from, understanding, and appreciating both environments and both ways of life, she can perhaps make a greater difference for good when her generation assumes the mantle of leadership. Her generation will face critical decisions about how to manage and sustain the limited resources we take for granted, and will be forced to implement very hard changes in order to ensure the future of the human race.

The rest of our trip was lighthearted, and when we got home, she wanted to read my blog to absorb more anecdotes about rural life. After several posts, she said, "Nice blog, Mom...but my butt itches from two days in the car. I can't sit anymore!", and ran out to play in the water hose and enjoy our gorgeous green slice of paradise. I had to agree that the garden was the perfect antidote for a bad case of road rear, and followed her out.

It has taken a day or two, but she has shifted very nicely into the country mode of living. I hope it blesses her the way it has blessed me.

He Stood the Watch

Today I honor my beloved husband, soulmate and best friend,

CEC(SCW) Walter J. Goulet, Jr.

Chief Petty Officer, United States Navy Seabees

on the occasion of his retirement from active duty after twenty years of

• faithful and meritorious service,
• deployments too numerous to count all over the world,
• multiple combat tours,
• years away from family and friends,
• missed births, birthdays and Christmases,
• on the job injuries,
• humanitarian aid projects completed,
• students trained,
• troops mentored,
• battles fought,
• tears wept, and
• achievements won.

In simple terms, his job was to keep the lights on--no matter what. He lights up my world so brightly that even the darkest nights of the soul are but wisps of gray cloud.

John, I love you, and I'm bursting with pride at the passion, excellence, unwavering strength, commitment, and compassion with which you've done your job these past twenty years, defending the rights of the rest of us to exercise our freedoms.

I sleep well at night because you've got my back; I am privileged to be under your vigilant protection, and I am grateful. I hope that the rest of America is, too.

As for me, I am just his lighthouse keeper. I will be privileged to keep the lights on for him for the rest of my life.

For twenty years
This sailor has stood the watch.

While some of us were in our bunks at night
This sailor stood the watch.

While some of us were in school learning our trade
This shipmate stood the watch.

Yes.. even before some of us were born into this world
This shipmate stood the watch.

In those years when the storm clouds of war

were seen brewing on the horizon of history
This shipmate stood the watch.

Many times he would cast an eye ashore

and see his family standing there,
Needing his guidance and help,
Needing that hand to hold during those hard times,
But he still stood the watch.

He stood the watch for twenty years.

He stood the watch so that we, our families and
Our fellow countrymen could sleep soundly in safety,
Each and every night,
Knowing that a sailor stood the watch.

Today we are here to say
"Shipmate... the watch stands relieved
Relieved by those you have trained, guided, and led.
Shipmate you stand relieved.. we have the watch..."

"Botswain, stand by to pipe the side...Shipmate's going ashore."

Lemon Pledge

My three year old daughter and I were silently enjoying the scenery as we traveled along a country road en route to her preschool.

"Mommy!" Her commanding voice drew me away from my mental review of the day's errands.

"Yes, honey?"

"Are we doing the lemon?"

My mind frantically sifted through memories of the last several days, looking for something--anything--to which she might be referring. I drew a complete and utter blank so asked her, "What lemon, sweetie?"

"The speed lemon, Mama!" she replied in a slightly exasperated tone before generously adding, "You know, how fast we are going in the car".

"Ah, the speed limit! Yes, we are doing the speed limit. Do you see that white sign on the side of the road? It says '40'. Now look at my speedometer here. Do you see the red line? It is pointing to 40, too. When the numbers match, that means I am doing the speed limit."

"Oh, OK." My daughter sighed in relief, then beamed. "Good job, Mama! But that white sign says 'Speed Limit 40', not just '40'."

I shook my head in amazement. "So it does", I said. When did she learn to read the words on that sign? And when did she learn about the speed limit? I hadn't taught her, and my husband later confirmed that he hadn't, either.

We arrived at preschool and I helped her out of the car. She pointed excitedly and shouted, "Ooh, look, Mommy, an American flag!" She stood straight and tall, placed her right hand over her heart, and began to recite the Pledge of Allegiance. I stood quietly at her side, listening in growing wonder as she perfectly articulated the entire Pledge, including the word 'indivisible'.

When she was finished, I praised her and noted that 'indivisible' was a big word. She nodded sagely. "I can say 'commodity' and that's a big word too, Mama. But you forgot to put your right hand over your heart. Maybe you better come inside to circle time so Miss Mandy can show you the right way to do it."

I scooped her up into my arms and, placing my cheek against hers, gave her the biggest bear hug I could muster. Smiling, I carried her inside.

Rome wasn't built in a day...

...but my new planter box was, thanks to my wonderful husband John and his best friend Dan--who is really a family member that was chosen, above and beyond the ones issued at birth.

A few weeks ago, John brought home a packet of tomato seeds. He is a fabulous cook, and we both love garden-fresh tomatoes. Last year, we grew some in containers on the deck out back. "It's a pity we don't have a raised planter box going around the edge of the deck", I mused. "The tomatoes got so root-bound in those pots last year". I shared my vision, and my husband agreed it was an intriguing idea.

Two weeks later, I came home from work to find an almost-finished project and two hard-working men. The planter was a wonderful surprise; the bond between these two men also warms my heart. When John told Dan what he had in mind to do, Dan didn't say "I'm busy", or "How about next weekend?". Between these two brothers-by-choice, the modus operandi is "You need me? I'll be right there."

Roof torn off by a storm? --No problem. We'll have a new one on shortly.

Bike not running? --Let's put our heads together and figure it out.

Child is sick and you have to be at work? --I'm off today; I'll take care of her.

Need a tool to finish that job? --I'll bring it over in a minute, and I'll stick around to help.

Family crisis? --I'll be right over.

Going through hard times? --I'm here to listen and help in any way I can.

Feel like giving up? --I'm not going to let you.

Broken-hearted? --Let me put my arms around you, brother.

Rome wasn't built in a day, and neither was this friendship; these two men have been through thick and through thin together for close to 20 years now, without ever counting the cost or keeping score of who has done what for whom. This is my ode to that friendship...and a thank-you to both, for all their hard work.

"I have friends in overalls

whose friendship I would not swap

for the favor of the kings of the world. "

~Thomas A. Edison

Angels Watching Over Me

No evil shall befall you, nor shall affliction come near your tent, for to His Angels God has given command about you, that they guard you in all your ways. Upon their hands they will bear you up, lest you dash your foot against a stone. Psalm 91: 10-12

This is a story of our guardian angels' providence, and my song of gratitude in response. You don't have to live in the rural South for that.

After having driven about 620 miles on my way from Annapolis, Maryland to Atlanta, Georgia, I heard a sound that every parent dreads emanating from the back seat of my car. I quickly pulled onto the shoulder of the road, but not before my daughter threw up all over herself and the rest of the back seat. I simultaneously consoled her and mopped up. Thirty minutes later we were moving again.

My cell phone battery had died an hour prior to this episode, but I wasn't concerned. Although I did not have a car charger for my phone, I had one for use in a household power outlet and I planned to charge the phone once we got settled for the night.

"No", I heard a voice firmly say. "Pull over at the truck stop and buy a car charger."

I dismissed the thought, negating the need for that expenditure.

"Pull over at the truck stop and buy a car charger", I was persistently nudged.

I have lived long enough, and lived through enough, to know that some proddings should be obeyed without too much questioning. I took the next exit, spent $10, and plugged in the phone to charge. We drove another hour without incident, and were treated to a spectacular sunset. A bit further on, my daughter enjoyed seeing lights twinkle in skyscraper windows as we skirted the metro Atlanta area after dark.

About ten miles from my in-laws' house, interstate traffic was solid and busy, flowing along at 90 mph. I was doing 80 mph in my little Honda Civic, when without warning I lost control and the rear end of my car swung into the lane at my left, nearly hitting another vehicle. I began to react, but it is hard to compensate accurately at that speed. The rear end of the car then swung into the lane at my right and was nearly clipped by a tractor-trailer before I straightened out. At the same time I was decelerating, and the tractor-trailer behind me barely managed to brake enough to avoid going straight over the top of us.

Having regained control, I finally heard the telltale sound that indicated a blowout in one of the rear tires. I put on my hazard lights and leaned on the horn. Traffic was still barreling past us at high speed, we were approaching a major split in the interstate with no emergency lane in sight, and I needed to pull over...NOW. "PLEASE!", my heart's urgent request shot heavenward.

The three lanes to my right were suddenly clear of any approaching vehicle, as if all traffic had just been erased. Rumbling on a bare metal rim, I limped over to the side of the highway. Although I was on an overpass, there was a wide shoulder and I could safely get out and assess the damage.

Back in the car, my knees began to shake like jelly as I looked to my left at the metallic river rushing forcefully past. I took a deep breath to regain composure, and found myself looking at the fully charged phone. Silently mouthing "Thank You!", I picked it up and called my father-in-law.

When he heard what had happened, he told me to sit tight. I put down the phone, and my daughter's voice gently reached out to me in the darkness: "Mommy? All those other cars are moving, but ours stopped. Why?" "Well, sweetie", I replied, "our tire broke, and Grandpa is going to come and fix it." Reassured, she promptly fell asleep.

Ten minutes later, he arrived with a jack, a tire iron, and a cup of hot coffee for me. What a thoughtful angel of mercy! I've changed my own tires before, but he told me to relax and he would take care of it in a jiffy, which he did.

Traffic parted again to allow us to access the exit ramp, and we took back roads to the house. By the time I parked the car, he had already written down the tire information so he could call around for the best price the next day.

My daughter and I slept soundly. We were safe, and I was grateful. The next morning, I had no sooner poured my second cup of coffee than Dad had secured me the best deal on tires in the metro Atlanta area. Pops, you're an angel.

It has been said that there are no coincidences, only God-incidences. There were many on Monday night:

• The 30-minute stop to clean up after my daughter was sick kept us out of even heavier traffic.


• The nudging to buy that charger, and my heeding it, enabled me to call for help.


• We were not involved in a collision, in spite of the close calls and the traffic speed and conditions.


• The inexplicable parting of traffic allowed me to pull over safely.


• There was a safe place to pull over--an oasis among miles and miles of construction with no hazard lanes or shoulder on the interstate.


• The blowout happened a few miles from my in-laws', and not out in the middle of nowhere.


• That I have a husband to whom the safety of his wife and child are paramount...the rest is just "stuff".

For all of these, and for all of my blessings, I give thanks.

There's No Place Like Home...

I drove 2,747 miles last week.

My three year old and I went to Maryland to visit my beloved oldest three children over the Easter break. She was an amazingly good traveler, and her observations made for lively company as the miles rolled on. She noticed changes in foliage ("Look, Mama, there are not so many pine trees any more"), changes in temperature ("Mama, why is it so cold here? It's supposed to be springtime!"), changes in local cuisine ("Why can't we get grits here?"), and even changes in road kill ("Where did all the squished armadillos go? Only the squirrels are squished now."). Most of all, though, she noticed changes in the demeanor and comportment of the people around us: "How come nobody is smiling? How come that man didn't open the door?" Mama, he pushed. That's not nice!"

After my first foray North in a year, I had to agree with her: I like Mississippi better. Like the sign at the state line says, "It feels like home".

While I was in Maryland, the brake trouble light in my dashboard display came on. I checked the brake fluid, and it was a little low. I went to the nearest auto parts store, selected a three dollar bottle of brake fluid, and placed it on the counter. Before the clerk could ring it up, a man with his arms full of gadgets shoved in front of us, nearly stepping on my daughter and pushing her off balance, and plopped his stuff on the counter. "Excuse me...sir?" I started. The cashier looked bored, and began ringing up his purchase. I raised my voice. "SIR. Shoving me aside to put your stuff on the counter is one thing; pushing over a toddler is another. Could you please be careful?" He treated me to a string of expletives. "Mommy, those are BAD words", my daughter sagely observed. I had to agree.

At last, the boor left, and it was our turn. "That's all you're going to get?", the clerk rudely queried. "Yes, ma'am", I replied. The look of astonishment on her face told me she'd never in her entire life been called 'ma'am'. I paid, and we went to the parking lot. My daughter climbed into her seat, and I added brake fluid to the reservoir.

As we drove away, I shook my head in disbelief at the utter rudeness we had just experienced. I couldn't help but contrast the episode with my last visit to an auto parts store in Wiggins, when I had gone to pick up an extra quart of oil for my husband. A man with his arms full of heavy parts was approaching the checkout counter at the same time I was. I told him to go first, since his arms were full. "No", he replied, "you only have one thing, ma'am. You go." After I had paid for the item, the clerk asked whether I needed him to add the oil to my vehicle. "It's no trouble at all, ma'am", he offered.

There may be more blue collar workers in the South, but they are a lot more cheerful than the ones we encountered up North. From service stations to restaurants to grocery stores, smiles and well wishes started fading from South Carolina on up the interstate. By Virginia, they were pretty sour; by Maryland, everyone was downright rude. Thank the stars our destination wasn't New Hampshire.

People who travel long distances miss their loved ones and the comforts of home. We were no exception, missing my husband/her daddy, the rest of the kids, our beds, our home, our land, and home cooking.

We missed trees, too. The farther North we got, the more concrete surrounded us. A lush green landscape restores my soul. Maybe if so much of it hadn't been paved over up North, people would be happier.

My daughter missed grits. Sure, the Cracker Barrel in Maryland served them...but "Mama, they're not done right", she protested.

We both missed friendliness and courtesy. My daughter amazed people wherever we went in Annapolis with her cheerful waves, "Hey y'all"s, "Yes, ma'am"s, and "No, sir"s.

We missed a slower, kinder pace of life. I found myself admonishing my daughter to quicken her steps and keep pace with the flow of foot traffic in the hotel lobby. She slowed down even more and pouted, "I'm all done with this rushing, Mama". I stopped cold, looked at her thoughtfully, and decided, "Me too!"

We also missed warm weather, having gone from 80 degrees to below-freezing mornings.

After a wonderful and all-too-short visit with our precious ones, we made it home safe and sound. We had a very happy reunion with my husband and the rest of the family (not to mention a fabulous welcome-home dinner). We are once again in shorts and flip-flops. My daughter had "right way grits" for breakfast this morning, and we're about to run out to the store, where I'm sure we'll meet at least five people we know and will tell them stories of our adventures in the wild and uncivilized North. There's no place like home...