Thy Will Be Done

Living in West Texas, the coming of spring is discovered in different ways than up north. There is no crocus pushing up through the snow. No - in West Texas, it's the first green of the dandelions in your lawn. Your iris' beginning to put on new broad leaves. The dirt blowing so hard you can't see more than two blocks and the sky turns brown. And of course, the most definite sign of spring....

The appearance of Ron Roberts on channel 28. To report on the latest round of thunderstorms and tornados and hail and torrential rain. Weeeehaaaa! Spring has sprung!

Last weekend we had a couple rounds of storms, including twisters over in New Mexico, and my favorite, low energy funnels in Lubbock during lunch on Sunday. My darling M, while down south at the lake "relaxing," was too busy cleaning bass to answer my phone calls informing him that his wife and children were about to take a trip to Oz, and to be sure and feed the dog because we don't want her to be barking at Toto and we'd miss him and for heaven's sake, DO NOT GIVE AWAY MY CLOTHES because I'm sure we'll only be gone a few days.

Men.

Of course, it wasn't anywhere near our home, and I did get a great deal of amusement of watching the plethora of Tech students who climbed on top of their duplexes to see if they could see the funnels, despite the large amount of thunder and lightening. Hey - we're in Texas. When there is a twister in the area, you can find us in two places - the front yard or the back yard. (or the roof apparently if you're young and immortal) The kids did get to see their first "live" funnel and as they are their mother's sons, both were tickled to death.

Last night we had another round, with bad storms off the east, then a line developing around bedtime on the Tx/NMX state border. I had hoped that we wouldn't have any rain out in Hicksville, because the ground is beyond saturated, and we can't get the house bricked until it dries out. I quickly gave up that wish in favor of praying that there would be no GOLF BALL SIZED HAIL! break out all of the windows in the new house and ruin everything inside. I spent two hours gritting my teeth and saying over and over "Thy will, Lord...thy will. If you must have rain, then let it rain. If you have a reason for busting out our windows and having us start all over, thy will, Lord. Thy will. But if you could have that hail dodge us, Lord, we sure would appreciate it."

M went by this morning. Lots of rain, no hail that he could see. The new trees he planted last week still have their leaves. My iris' that were planted by the road aren't shredded (unlike the ones in my flower beds in Lubbock).

Thy will, Lord. And thank you.

Through the years....

I am not a tall person. I'm all of 5'3 and 3/4" tall. (and yes - I do need to mention that 3/4, because when you're short, every. bit.counts!) My husband is taller, but he's still not basketball tall - he's only 5'10" - which is perfect for *me*.

So would someone please tell me how I ended up with a son who is apparently going to be 6'4"???

He has managed to outgrow all of the jeans we bought him at the start of school - the ones I bought kinda long hoping that he'd wear them longer. We already replaced 3 pair around Christmas. Today - as I stood in the new Target and approved the length (I'm tellin ya - I'm not buying any more jeans until next fall darnit!) and fit of 3 more pairs of size 16 boys jeans - I realized.

That's the last time I'll buy him clothes in the boys department.

He'll be 14 this summer. And he's quickly growing out of the size 16 boys clothes - and when I buy him clothes next time - it'll be in the mens department.

The. Mens. Department.

How the heck did that happen? I watched him walk out and place the jeans into the basket and I remembered the tiny baby he was - who gnawed so fiercely on his tiny fist - not understanding why nursing was so hard after being bottle fed by the nurses at the hospital when he had jaundice. And the trusting looks he gave me when he (we) finally figured it out.

I remembered the joyous moment when he smiled at me the first time - and how thrilled I was at that first wide toothless grin. So thrilled I didn't even notice that I had left my car keys in the seat when I took him into the nursery and told everyone he had just! smiled! at! ME! I didn't notice until I tried to open my car door and saw them sitting there - and I just laughed, turned around and went in to call my husband to come let me in my car - but first I told him about that smile.

I remembered his first steps - with his arms flung out to the sides for balance and his smile and his joy at being able to finally walk like the big people in his life. I remembered the first time he patted my pregnant belly and said "hi baby J! Come out now!" And the time he bit his baby brother's toe when I was nursing him.

As I drove us to Sonic for a drink and then home - several E memories floated through my mind. Memories of the story of the baby bear - where he told me they had one in his daycare class - and if they were good they got to take it out and pet it and feed it a little bear chow, and how he told it so convincingly - that even though I *knew* better - I still looked around the room carefully when I dropped him off. I should have known right then that embellishing would be his forte.

That little boy isn't a little boy any more. He's nearly a young man. One that is bright, witty, and onery. And while I'll always miss that little boy that used to run to me when I arrived to pick him up - I'm pretty proud of the young man that saunters up to my truck after school now - even if it does annoy the tar outta me when his first words are "'Sup momsie-o?"

I guess it's just all part of it, eh? And does it make me a total dork that I literally got tears in my eyes about 5 times while typing this?