You'll be touched by this new video called "Blessings" from Laura Story

You'll LOVE this new video by Laura Story.  It's especially for those who have gone through hard times.  Have YOU gone through times like that?  Let me know. 


"What if your blessings come through raindrops?
What if your healing comes through tears?
What if a thousand sleepless nights are what it takes to know You're near?
What if trials of this life are......mercies in disguise?"


Let me know if you can't access this on your computer.  

Santa replaced by his 3rd Cousin, Bubba Claus

Please visit Judy's website http://thesouthernladycooks.com/more-southern-things/ for a hilarious story about Santa Claus being replaced in the South by Santa's 3rd cousin, Bubba Claus.  Only TRUE Southerners will appreciate this.     Her whole website is great, but this is fantastic.

New Southern Santa

A new contract for Santa has finally been negotiated.
Please read the following carefully.

I regret to inform you that, effective immediately, I will no longer be able to serve Southern United States on Christmas Eve. Due to the overwhelming current population of the earth, my contract was renegotiated by North American Fairies and Elves Local 209. I now serve only certain areas of Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, Wisconsin and Michigan. As part of the new and better contract I also get longer breaks for milk and cookies.

However, I’m certain that your children will be in good hands with your local replacement who happens to be my third cousin, Bubba Claus. His side of the family is from the South Pole. He shares my goal of delivering toys to all the good boys and girls; however,
there are a few differences between us…

1. There is no danger of a Grinch stealing your presents from Bubba Claus. He has a gun rack on his sleigh and bumper sticker that reads:
“These toys insured by Smith and Wesson.”

2. Instead of milk and cookies, Bubba Claus prefers that children leave an RC cola and pork rinds [or a moon pie] on the fireplace. And Bubba doesn’t smoke a pipe. He dips a little snuff though, so please have an empty spit can handy.

3. Bubba Claus’ sleigh is pulled by floppy-eared, flyin’ coon dogs instead of reindeer. I made the mistake of loaning him a couple of my reindeer one time, and Blitzen’s head now overlooks Bubba’s fireplace.

4. You won’t hear “On Comet, on Cupid, on Donner and Blitzen …” when Bubba Claus arrives. Instead, you’ll hear, “On Earnhardt, on Wallace, on Martin and Labonte On Rudd, on Jarrett, on Elliott and Petty.”

5. “Ho, ho, ho!” has been replaced by “Yee Haw!”
And you also are likely to hear Bubba’s elves respond, “I her’d dat!”

6. As required by Southern highway laws, Bubba Claus’ sleigh does have a Yosemite Sam safety triangle on the back with the words “Back Off!” The last I heard it also had other decorations on the sleigh back as well. One is Ford or Chevy logo with lights that race through the letters and the other is a caricature of me (Santa Claus) going wee on the Tooth Fairy.

7. The usual Christmas movie classics such as “Miracle on 34th Street” and “It’s a Wonderful Life” will not be shown in your negotiated viewing area. Instead, you’ll see “Boss Hogg Saves Christmas” and “Smokey and the Bandit IV” featuring Burt Reynolds as Bubba Claus and dozens of state patrol cars crashing into each other.

8. Bubba Claus doesn’t wear a belt. If I were you, I’d make sure you, the wife, and the kids turn the other way when he bends over to put presents under the tree.

9. And finally, lovely Christmas songs have been sung about me like “Rudolph The Red-nosed Reindeer” and Bing Crosby’s “Santa Claus is Coming to Town.” This year songs about Bubba Claus will be played
on all the AM radio stations in the South. Those song titles will be:
Mark Chesnutt’s “Bubba Claus Shot the Jukebox,” Cledus T. Judd’s “All I Want for Christmas Is My Woman and a Six Pack,” and Hank Williams Jr.’s “If You Don’t Like Bubba Claus, You Can Shove It.”

Sincerely Yours,
Santa Claus North American Fairies and Elves Local 209

How Do You Grow a Boy?

        This is one of my first blog posts in 2010.  Not many people read it back then, so I thought I'd share it again. 
        It's the end of football season.  One of my friends with a Senior boy posted on Facebook that four years ago her son and his friends walked out on their Home football field as freshmen.  Last night they walked off that field for the last time. 


How Do You Grow a Boy?
 

        This morning I was on Facebook and watched a video of my nephew playing his first year of football in pads.  The boys are so little they can barely move around in the pads and helmet.  But this is the beginning of manhood.  This is where it all starts. 

        My son started playing football when he was 7 years old, and that was when my heart began to feel a little twinge of pain.  It was the realization that he was going to have to grow up.  The sweat, the smell of the freshly mown grass and the growing brotherhood among the boys mix with the magic of the hot August sun, raising them to the next level of boyhood.  They may look the same, but their demeanor and body language change into one of confidence.  They've entered a secret, masculine world where no girls are allowed and realize, "this is what it's all about."  They've used Transformers to tackle anything that came in their way. They've staged army men, who at the whistle, weaved their way around deadly land mines and escaped the enemy in hot pursuit.  Now, with the help of rising testosterone, they can make it a reality.

        I watched my little guy, and I felt that twinge of pain because I knew one day he would have to be so manly, so strong and stoic—so different from me.  That would separate us.  Now at 16, he is that young man.  What I didn't realize then is that I would be so very proud of him.  The fact that he grew up so quickly makes me sad, but my pride in the amazing young man he has become far outweighs any sadness.  He takes on responsibility and has a strong work ethic.  He loves his family and is a leader.  What more could I want?  I watch him out the window now mowing the grass and moving firewood, and I'm amazed at how much I love him.  I go to all his wrestling matches which are mentally and physically grueling.  As I watch his muscles move fluidly and then strain,  I'm reminded of how manly and strong he has become—so different from me. Thank goodness.

        When he walks out my door,  I'll feel that same twinge of pain I felt when he walked onto the football field for the first time.  But I've learned that my pride will eclipse the pain.  Confidently, he'll enter a different world and realize "this is what it's all about."  Everything he learned in football will help him succeed in his profession.  He'll succeed in life because of everything he learned from me.

Pirates and Princesses: Halloween from the eyes of a mom

Pirates and Princesses

        When my children were in pre-school, Halloween was a much-anticipated, momentous occasion. It was a night in which the young were free to imagine, to giggle and scream, and to be who they truly were deep in their five-year-old hearts. 

Back then my kids put great thought into their elaborate Halloween costumes. My daughter was enraptured by Cinderella, and we bought the Disney maiden’s shiny blue dress weeks before the big night. Of course, a blond wig and diminutive glass (plastic) slippers were essential.  

Every piece of her costume had to be perfect; but unfortunately, because she had modeled the get-up for her daddy several times, my showgirl forgot where she put the show-stopping shoes.  They had to be somewhere in the house.  After tearing our living quarters apart for a solid hour, I glanced at the china cabinet.  

Lo and behold, the silicone slip-ons sparkled in the illuminated display, occupying a place of distinction beside my glimmering wedding china.  She forgot she had stashed them there, secure from her baby sister’s grasp. She concluded that the logical hiding place was, of course, among the china.

Where else would you put “glass” slippers?

As dusk approached on All Hallows Eve, my husband and I spent grueling hours getting three kids ready, taking pictures, and simply striving for a photo in which no one was ogling three inches from the camera with their nostrils against the lens.  After I smoothed Cinderella’s hair and attached the last sash on my swashbuckler, my kids’ reality melted into a misty fantasy of fairy godmothers and fiery galleons on stormy seas.

Whether the night was clear or whether a perfect storm brewed, a magical, mystical electricity penetrated their rationality.  It stirred them into a suspended disbelief that vampires morphed into bats and goblins greeted those who dared to approach a house with no porch lights on.  They relished the paranormal pageantry under the aura of dim streetlights but within safe range of strong arms.  

Each stage of life melted into the next, and this year my buccaneer will don his four-cornered tasseled hat and raise his treasured scroll. But my heart still pictures him donning his three-cornered pirate hat and raising his trusty scabbard.  I turned around and a real five o’clock shadow replaced his black-marker mustache which was often eclipsed by a Gatorade one.

Back then, each scrape and scar had a salty story, and a damsel in distress beckoned around every corner.  At age five, he strode out the door to chase his dragons, and at 18, he will stride out the door to chase his dreams.  

May his ship be guided by the compass of faith, and may his gleaming sword slay every giant that stands in his way.

Likewise, my baby girl traded her sparkly princess gown for a shimmery prom gown and now glides gracefully down the stairs in three-inch heels.  But I still see my Cinderella clack-clacking down the stairs in Barbie high heels, not bothered a bit that her crown slips precariously over one eye as she bounds over the last three steps.  I cherished all the memories because I knew that in a moment her chubby little hands would clutch car keys instead of a candy pail.

Years before, she flew out the door to carve her jack-o’-lanterns.  And pretty soon she’ll fly out the door, trying out her wings in a great big world, carving her own future.  

May her every pumpkin turn into a gleaming coach, and may she find glass slippers in the most unexpected places.