Letter to the Editor

My two sons are 9^th generation Tennesseans. Both sets of my grandparents owned working farms in rural Tennessee areas- proud Robertson county and Weakley county people. My husband’s family traces their roots back to Cannon county farms.

 Every single member of my family that went to college has a degree from the University of Tennessee (except me.) We are die-hard supporters of the original land grant university founded in 1794. My boys are both now enrolled in as students at UT Knoxville. My husband has two degrees from UT. We fly the Tri-Star flag from our front porch. We are passionate and proud Tennesseans.

I was raised in the Church of Christ denomination.  Growing up in my church was truly a wonderful experience. I was surrounded by loving people who loved Jesus and loved me. I have no church trauma like so many youth group kids from the 90s. I went on to Lipscomb University, a small private Christian school.  Again, it was a wonderful experience where I met all of my best friends who I talk to daily. I consider my faith strong and unwavering. After 49 years of life on this imperfect planet I still don’t feel the need to “deconstruct” my faith. I am secure in my relationship with Christ and know his love for me and others.

I would consider myself a Republican. I would consider myself a moderate conservative. (Now probably left leaning conservative.) I have voted straight Republican until Trump.

Something has changed. I look around and do not recognize anything in political culture. I am not giving Trump all the credit for this because a. he does not deserve it and b. his opponents have not been stellar candidates either.

We were driving through rural Georgia this past week because a massive traffic jam on the interstate re-routed us. One little country house and trailer after the next on winding roads surrounded by big Georgia pine trees. The most striking sight was the amount of Trump political flags. Not just one flag, but huge banners mounted on the side of houses and fences. Fine, I get it, you love Trump. But mixed in with these were huge American flags with the face of Jesus Christ superimposed on top. Stop and think about this for just a minute. Despite political leanings let’s think about the facts. A. Jesus Christ of Nazareth was not in any way American. Nazareth is a real city located in the country of Israel and Jesus was a real person. B. Jesus does not or has never existed to represent the country of the United States. Putting his face on top of an American flag is blasphemous. But, “we are a Christian nation,” you argue. Okay, if you want to debate separation of church and state I can go rounds with you all day.  But, do you deep in your heart believe Jesus would want his face on top of an American flag, really? What about all the Christians he died on the cross for in Mexico? Israel? China? You really want to go there? Jesus came for all mankind. The Gospel is for EVERYONE.

Read Jesus’ words in Mark, John, Romans.

The United States of America exists and was founded by our Founding Fathers for one reason: freedom.  It’s literally the first amendment. You can look it up. You can be an American and not be a Christian, which is your right. But as a public school teacher you don’t have the right to teach my child from the Koran if you are a Muslim. Thank goodness because I want my child to know the Bible. That is my religious freedom.

So, please kindly keep my Lord and Savior off of your American flag. And while you’re at it, keep my Lord’s name out of your mouth if you don’t care about 4^th graders being murdered at school and call yourself a Tennessee politician.  This moderate conservative Republican will no longer be voting republican in my local elections. (Looking at you Gino Bulso.)  Just like that I have become a single issue voter. I firmly believe children have the right to attend school without being murdered and the adults in charge should at least take meetings with grieving parents. I attended your town hall meetings and heard in person with my own two ears that you are more concerned with filing lawsuits against the school system regarding books than with fighting for gun safety. That is really all I need to know. I will go down fighting for my children, your children, and future grandchildren.

 

It Happened

The thing I dreaded for 19 years happened. Will moved out of my house.

He did the natural thing that quite a few kids do - he went to college. 

My tiny blue-eyed, still very blonde- headed baby moved into a dorm. 

He graduated number 1 out of 421 kids from a large, high-achieving suburban high school.  

He gave a brilliant speech as the Senior class President and then got back up out of his seat and gave an amazing Valedictorian speech. I felt like I was having an out of body experience. 

The baby I almost died giving birth to was the leader of his class in more ways than one. 

I still look around and wonder how the child I gave birth to became this amazing person. 

God in his infinite grace and mercy blessed me with this person that I only briefly got to claim as mine and then sent off into this world. He is too good and too pure. 

I have often said I have been visited by angels in my 46 years on this earth. One- my Mother. Two- Greta. Three- Will.

We are all sad. We are all in mourning. The house is too quiet. It is usually filled with beautiful piano music. Now its just quiet. Sad quiet. Will was our light and our music. He was our perpetual happiness. He was our early-riser and our smile-giver. He was our humble spirit that raised us all to his level. He made us all better people. 

Sixteen

My 6 pound 7 ounce, 15 day early tiny baby boy turned 16. The baby that I gave birth to at 3:43 on a Tuesday afternoon, then almost died by 7:00 that night, and didn't get to hold until a few days later got a drivers license. I gave birth to him naturally on a Tuesday afternoon but didn't bring him home until Saturday. If there is lasting birth trauma- well - I still have it 16 years later. This specific baby turned 16, got a car and a drivers license and drives off in it every day now into the dangerous, hard world. And I'm not okay.

Will is a wonderful kid. I am not worried about him. I am worried about all the other crazy people out there on the roads that don't understand that the 2 only things that matter the most to me are riding in the same car together. Will and Ryan.

I remember turning 16. It wasn't that big of a deal. My Mom took me over to the DMV one afternoon in September after school, I drove around with the DMV person for a few minutes, Caudill Drive past the Cash's, came back and was done. My Dad bought me a white Toyota Celica - stick shift so I would know how to drive manual transmission- and I was thrilled. Pretty sure I couldn't drive that car for months though because I was grounded for having a D in Frances Bennett's Algebra class. Good times.

I am sure my Mom was worried. I am sure she thought what in the world am I doing putting my baby into a car and sending her off into the world, but at the time I didn't think/care about that. But this is my baby and I am fully aware of how precious and fleeting life is. I watched one of my friends bury her 16 year old son last year and it permanently changed me and how I view life.  Nothing matters. Life is but a vapor. So, I will cherish my 2 angel boys every single day I am gifted with them and I will not apologize for being sad that they drive off in a car without me.

Tuesday I went to my yoga class for the first time in a while. My yoga teacher is taking her first baby to college this week in California. She had a new music playlist for us and the first song that came on was Landslide by Stevie Nicks. We both looked at each with tears in our eyes. Nothing to say. Nothing can stop the progression of time or from babies driving cars or going to college.


Well, I've been afraid of changin'
'Cause I've built my life around you
But time makes you bolder
Even children get older
And I'm getting older, too
I'm getting' older, too

High School

I registered my first baby for high school yesterday. 9th grade. Freshman year. We had to map out the next 4 years. We had to think about future college admissions requirements- like do we need 2 years of foreign language or 3? Some colleges like to see 3.  ( He's 14, so, he doesn't know where he wants to go to college.) He is already signed up for his first AP class and will end up with an AP focus. That's exactly one more AP class than I ever took.  He is signed up for Honors Algebra 2 which is farther than I ever made it in math in my entire life. He's 14. He is my baby. The blonde baby that I gave birth to and then almost died without holding. So, I was already kind of feeling a bit emotional.  I really only have a little over 4 more years left with him.

Then I go home. I am folding laundry, as is my life, and have the TV turned on to NBC to watch some Winter Olympics. Breaking News!!! They break in to the Olympics to tell me that another mass shooting has taken place in a Florida High School. Oh, and its the 18th school shooting of the year. Its only February. A suburban high school in Florida. 17 kids dead. 17 kids just like mine and yours. Dead. From an angry kid with an automatic weapon. So, as you can imagine, I don't take this news well. There is really nothing to say to make me feel better. It's Valentine's Day and Ash Wednesday so Mothers, just like me, wearing their heart shirts and ash crosses on their foreheads have to receive news that their kid isn't going to college so it doesn't matter how many years of foreign language she took.

I am tired of hearing about kids dying at school. I am tired of thinking about it and reading about it on social media. I'm tired of seeing people fight about it on social media. Everyone thinks they have the answer when really there is not one perfect answer.  I'm tired of wondering when it will happen in my suburban high school.

Angry mothers carry quite a bit of power. Angry mothers will not be quiet.

Kappa Chi

The social club (sorority) I was a part of in college was Kappa Chi. It is now falling on hard times and with very few members left is in danger of disappearing.  Our long-time, beloved faculty sponsor asked us (alumna) to write "What Kappa Chi has meant in our lives." Here is mine:

I have a September birthday, so I was always the youngest in my grade. My  parents dropped me off on Lipscomb University’s campus in August of 1993. I was 17 years old.

All of my best friends from high school went to big state schools – Tennessee, Western Kentucky, or Alabama. Not one of my high school friends went to LU. In a way I was glad. I could make a fresh start, meet new people, and try to find out what God had planned for my future. I was hoping I could do that easier at a small Christian college than a big state school.  My serious high school boyfriend was going to college far away in Indiana. Fresh break, fresh start. Nothing holding me back. I wasn’t one bit scared.

 Well, it wasn’t all instantly sunshine and rainbows. I had been placed with a random roommate in Elam who was miserable and obviously did not want to be at LU. She hardly spoke at all. I avoided our dorm room. I was not feeling at home. I remember driving all around Green Hills that Fall semester in my little red Celica just to listen to music.  I was only 30 minutes from home, but I didn’t want to go there either.  Sure, I met the girls in Elam but I was still not finding my people. It was a slow process and by Christmas break I was wondering if Lipscomb was the right place for me or not.

 I had heard talk of the Social Club scene and was very interested. I knew Freshman couldn’t pledge until Spring so I figured I would stick it out for the year. My mom had been a Chi Omega at Tennessee and I grew up knowing about the wonders and beauty of Sorority Sisterhood. 

 Thankfully, I met some other girls that I felt comfortable with and after Christmas break I moved dorm rooms to another floor.  I moved in with  a girl who would eventually be a pledge sister and we were next door to 2 other future pledge sisters. We were on a hall and around the corner from other KX girls and they started inviting us to Open Rush events. Ok! I found them! These were my people.  I knew without any doubt these girls were my sisters, my people, my family.

On Bid Night, I only wrote down one club- KX.  I was in the Spring 1994 pledge class. There were 10 of us. We were awesome.   I went on to have the 6 best weeks of my life during pledging. I would re-live them in a heartbeat.

 Kappa Chi is probably the real reason I stayed at LU and have an actual degree (from a now $43,000/yr university.)  If I had not met those KX girls who invited me to Open Rush events, I don’t know that I would have stayed without the Greek system. I was craving the sisterhood that KX gave me. I am an only child. This in itself is an entire other article, but I think it is the main reason that I needed that Sisterhood so very badly. Not all girls do. Some girls are very happy with their college life without a sorority. I needed to feel like I was part of a family, with sisters, and a purpose, and an 8:30 meeting to be at every Tuesday night.  I was vice-president for 2 of my 4 years and this also gave me a job and a purpose. I enjoyed the entire process of Rush and Bid night and planning events. KX is notoriously bad at rushing girls, but I loved it! I loved meeting the younger girls and trying to make them feel included because SOMEONE DID THAT FOR ME and it made all the difference. 

I still talk to my KX sisters on a weekly, sometimes daily, basis. My sister in law is a KX sister and my mother in law is a charter member.  KX has had a lasting impact on my life. I know KX has had its share of struggles over the years and recruiting and rushing girls has never been easy. This is almost an unspoken quality of a KX girl. We just can’t make you like us. You either do or you don’t. But, for me, KX kept me at LU and changed my life.  And some of the best memories I will take with me to my deathbed include my KX sisters and really loud laughter.

 PEACE AND LOVE. 

Boy Mom

I guess I just always assumed I would have a girl baby. I don't know why, but I did. That's how I saw myself. I always just wanted to be a Mom and when I would play babies growing up with Missy, we always had baby girls. In dresses. And bows.  I mean, I was a girl.  I didn't have brothers, so that is all I knew. Girls and girl stuff.

So, I was pleasantly surprised when I found out Will was going to be a boy. How fun! A boy! What a surprise! How unique! We had our name pretty much picked out for us, so that wasn't hard. What a great treat for my Dad, to have a grandson. I got on board with the boy thing very quickly. Big brothers are great ( I was already thinking down the road to future siblings,) every girl needs a big brother to protect her. How fun! A BOY!  And I would spend MUCH less money on clothes! This is great!

And Will was born and he was perfect. He was an angel. He was the answer to every prayer I ever prayed. He was everything I needed and never knew. He was beautiful with his bright blue eyes and blonde hair.

So, about 2 and 1/2 years later we were unexpectedly expecting another baby. I hummed and hawed and couldn't decide if I wanted to know the gender or not. But, we were in a position where I really needed to plan ahead for many reasons. So, we found out we were expecting another boy. Shock. I was in shock. We both thought for sure it was a girl.  We both would've bet the farm it was a girl. What in this world? Why would we want two boys?  I think John Will even promised me it was a girl. I  called my Dad first and told him while he was playing golf that he was getting another boy. I think he was secretly disappointed. Nana, however, was convinced of John Will's masculinity after siring 2 boys in a row. I spent 9 months wrapping my mind around the idea of a little brother.  Two boys. Who did God think I was? Expert boy Mom?

And Ryan was born and he was gorgeous. And we have never been happier to hear a baby cry after 45 minutes of silence and a wrapped cord. He was big and beautiful and exactly what I needed. He is the second half of my soul that I never knew was missing. He has hazel eyes and broad shoulders and the compassion and strength our family needed.

So, where is my girl? I am still looking for her. I have had Greta and now Betsy, but they are not exactly the same.  Not that I miss the drama and eye rolls. No ma'am, I don't need anyone telling me constantly what to do and what to wear. But, I wouldn't mind shopping at the American Girl doll store. Or, picking out  a wedding dress. Or helping someone out in the delivery room some day. I doubt my daughter-in-laws will welcome me in the delivery room. And I doubt they will want my advice. And they won't call me with cooking  questions. And I will be lonely. And that makes me sad. I might meet my girl some day, but it won't be this side of Heaven.  And, I guess that's okay.

Because being a boy mom is awesome. My boys are sweet and kind. They are smart and strong. They tell me I'm beautiful and cuddle with me at night. They could not care less what they wear.  I have happily watched more baseball games than I ever envisioned in my future. I have heard more Mindcraft stories and Pokémon stories than I ever needed to hear.  I have witnessed excitement over new Star Wars movies and ping pong tables.  I have seen my son cry real tears over a Tennessee football game. What more I could want? I have no idea.

Adulting

I have had to do a lot of things lately that I really did not want to do. I think this has been labeled "adulting" now by Millenials and other people who are younger and generally cooler than me. Adulting is doing things like paying bills, going to work, and generally doing things adult humans have to do in life.  Apparently this generation likes to eat Brunch and drink Mimosas. Sounds good to me, but it is not reality.

Last Friday I had to watch my husband be a pall bearer at his best friend's wife's funeral. She was 44. She has a 9 year old daughter who spoke at the funeral.  These are things I do not want to witness.

I have had to make some medical decisions recently that I did not want to make. Decisions that 41 year women have to make.  I did not want to make these decisions or think about these things. I want to be 27 forever. And weigh 114 pounds. But, alas, the reality is much grimmer.

I am having to watch our grandmothers get older. JW's grandmother is now in a nursing home. She is not happy living there and his mother is having to take care of her. This is brutal to watch.
My own young and beautiful Nana is now getting older. I do not want to accept this at all. I want her to be young and active forever. And make me Totino's Party Pizza, and style hair, and tell people they have gained weight.

My own two boys are getting older. They are having to go places like middle school. Gross. We have to make academic decisions for them like signing their life away to things like AP Calculus and Statistics. Decisions I do not want to make for my 7th grader. They are growing and learning things that older kids learn. This is not what I want. Why can't people stay small and watch Thomas the Train forever?

I have had to sacrifice things I have really wanted to do because my boys needed to be somewhere or do something. I sit at hot and dusty baseball fields at dusk even though it means when I get home I won't be able to breathe all night.
And to be honest, I don't even care. I am constantly shocked and amazed that God thought enough of me to bless me with these two boys. Highest compliment I will ever be given.

But, I don't like the getting old part.  I just don't. It is "adulting" at it's height, and I could do without it. JW and I both lament getting older. Everyone is a liar. They say "oh 40 is so great. 40 is the new 30."  Liars. All of them.


4 We will not hide them from their descendants;
    we will tell the next generation
the praiseworthy deeds of the Lord,
    his power, and the wonders he has done.

Then they would put their trust in God
    and would not forget his deeds
    but would keep his commands.

PSALM 78