Remember that little dedication to runners I did a few days ago? What was that even? It’s like a large and very necessary portion of my brain just rotted and fell out through my ears, because instead of training for the Gasparilla 5K, I’m now in training for the Tostitos ChipsnSalsathon. And the way things are going, I have a shot at winning this one.
The only running I have done in the last 8 days is away from my 3 year old. (She can be very scary, and right now she has a snotty nose, which creates an adhesive on both cheeks and scary things stick to her. If you see her coming, the smart thing is to run.)
Seems sort of self-deprecating to announce to blog readers everywhere that I just stood at the table and ate leftover Taco Bell chips with the bottom of a jar of Tostitos restaurant salsa. But when I photographed and then posted my laundry situation, suddenly it got done and a path was carved into and through the scary room (this room is not unlike the toddler in the house…frightening, but with the potential to be quite charming). I gave myself a week to work through the house. Now I’m looking at the salsa/poptart/whatever is sitting on the table disorder that I’ve developed and wondering if you can help me through it. I wonder if by posting my problem, it will suddenly go away. Wouldn’t that be super awesome?
So the Gasparilla is in 2 weeks. And I’m running in it even if I have to stop at 150 Dixie Cup water stations and be dragged across the finish line by a hard body. Even if it’s 42 degrees and raining, like it was last year (no way did I go last year!). And so as I did with the laundry, I am challenging myself to see if I can end the madness. I want to lose 5 pounds and run it in 31 minutes or less. Unfortunately, that 5 pounds is not going to be part of the original 15 I was going for. That will just be the new 5 I gained tonight eating chips and salsa.
My real name is Melissa. That’s a great name if you are a Melissa type. I clearly am not and I suppose the silly molecules that bump awkwardly into Fate until it makes an ugly move in some direction knew that I am clearly not a Melissa. So those molecules (so far, I am really impressing people with my scientific prowess) and Fate had to make a very split second decision while a marker was in the hand of a nurse who has less medical knowledge than I do and she scribbled ‘Missy’ on my eensy weensy hospital bracelet when I was one day old. Well now. I can’t control what she does. And I can’t control the fact that my brother, way too young at the time to be thrust unsuspecting into the role of my protector (now I am really laughing), could not pronounce the name ‘Melissa.’ And I guess I further can’t control the fact that my own dear parents, bless their souls 2 miles from here, did not seem to have a proper naming schema in place when their son and that nurse came together in an evil board meeting to name me. It always comes down to that one thing that I actually can control: my reaction. And here it is:
What? Really?
There. I feel vindicated.
Actually there are two things I could control: My reaction and the names of my future children (they were futuristic then. Now they are present tense and there aren’t any on the way. Go bug someone else…)
Because my name is Missy, I was beyond particular when developing the naming schema to be applied to each of our children. If you already know their names, then you can judge whether or not I did a decent job with that. If you don’t know their names, pick a random fella as we discuss this topic and you’ll do fine. This entire process started for me the moment I knew I was expecting and lasted until the moment the babies were born. This was a full time job.
Meaning: I was personally a very Picky McPickenpants about what a name meant. This meant that several names beloved by my dear husband were immediately tossed into the trash can of bad baby names. If your child is named something that ended up in my can of bad baby names, please know that this name is just fine for your child. Just not for mine. In fact, I left it open just for you. Mary meant bitter. I know there are some VERY special Marys in the Bible and I have nothing but the utmost respect for that. I just couldn’t get past the ‘bitter’ thing. Tristan meant tumult. Kennedy? Misshapen head. Cameron? Crooked Nose. So there were a few in there that just didn’t make the cut. I didn’t want to call my crooked nose to dinner.
Graduation Roll Call: There are people that would call this one obscure. But it has merit. Take your child’s name and call it out. Call it out slowly. Like you are wearing a silly little capngown and standing at a microphone. Melissa – Ann – Snapp. Actually that wasn’t my maiden name and I wasn’t married at my high school graduation. Joshua James Snapp. Wow, that’s a mouthful of zs and ss. Jimmy Jack Snapp. That one has the dreaded glottal stop AND a nursery rhyme collision. This little test will come in handy at graduations and weddings. Think about it. Your child will thank you. If they are thoughtful. Or weird.
Good name, Bad name: Now this one pretty much just allowed me to say no to any name I didn’t want. This is the one that drove Todd completely crazy, because I used it often and with no consistent rationale. Evelyn. (Again, I support you in naming your child Evelyn. I just couldn’t.) I still have yet to determine if he was truly serious about Calvin Fletcher and Evelyn, but I was forced to pull the good name, bad name card with these, and many other, choices. Calvin Fletcher? Dead President. Evelyn? 80-year-old grandma who lost on Price is Right. She lost bad, too. Harper? Sounds like a harpie. Or a boy. Or a unisex kid. Adrian? Drug addict.
Playground Smack: What can be done with a name on a playground? Ridiculous things. Twists in words that should never have occurred. Simon? Simple Simon. Simon says. Oh, I know my name is Simon, and I like to make Drawrings. Charlie. Charlie and the CHOCOLATE FACTORY? OK, that one never happens. I’m reaching.
Telephone Solicitation/First Day Roll Call: James Darleson? Um, yes ma’am. Here. It’s Wesley, please. I actually wanted to break this rule, because I’m irrational that way. But Todd insisted we keep to it. And I think I see the point. Take Uncle Cletus for example. His name is Roberto Cletus Lastname. He gets formal sales calls all the time for Roberto. Don’t you know that’s an easy way to spot a call from the Police Benevolence Association. In my thinking, that is a !POINT! in the favor of naming your child and calling them by the middle name. You can tell your friends quickly by what they call you. But alas, our first names are first and middles are middle.
Rhymes With: This one should be obvious. Take the name of your precious cherub, and take the alphabet, now GO. Every single letter in front of that name you are picking. Be very sure about this one. Or your child will be angry. And blog about it. Forever. I mean it.
So as I was reaching back into the mindmaze of our babynaming process, I did what any woman needing clarification would do. I instant messaged my husband.
He’s upstairs.
We do this a lot.
Some of our best talks have been on IM.
Here was, verbatim, our conversation. You can hear the bitterness in his tone as he two-finger types this message…
M: We ran our names through the following tests: rhymes with, playground smack, meaning, Graduation roll call, anything else?
T: not called middle,
Not preemptive middle (by this, he meant, don’t name a kid John David if you already know you are going to just call him David).
Not preemptive Nick — (by this he meant, don’t name a kid Elizabeth if you know from the beginning that she’ll be a Betsy. And though I know now which test he was referring to, I still have no idea what the words “not preemptive middle” mean or why they were squashed together in a phrase of any kind.)
I thought we were done.
He kept going.
T: Doesn’t coincide with anyone you (meaning me) have ever disliked slightly. Or an overweight person.
M: OK. This made me laugh hard, but cannot be written on a public blog. Also, it isn’t true. You are angry. We should talk about this.
T: I know. If their names rhyme with any part of the body.
Or anything that comes out of the body.
Or any activity done in the bathroom.
M: Well, there went Dave.
T:Another rule. Never a last name on a soap opera. Never in a movie. Doesn’t end in –ess. Two or more syllables.
M: Are you mocking me now?
T: Just providing research content.
There is no moral to this story. But if you haven’t yet named your child, you’re welcome.
Indeed.
Um.
My house looks like a very rude cat burglar came in, attacked it, and left it without taking anything.
I’ve realized just this week that I really am incapable of balance. I do one thing, fairly well, and that is all. The lucky winner is the thing chosen for a span. All other contenders should just go home and find another activity. I just can’t do more than one thing. Around Christmas time, I was on a crockpot meals kick. That was nice. That lasted like a week. Maybe two. Over the summer, it was the 30 day Shred with Jillian Michaels. That lasted…30 days. I didn’t shred. Probably because it required me to exercise while eating well. That’s two things I have to do.
This week it is the blog. It has been ONLY the blog. I will soon add a menu for Formal Apologies. There I will begin letters to those I am stiff-arming on a daily basis. I will leave ample space for those wronged to write me back. I think that’s only proper. I concentrate very hard when I’m writing. For me, that’s what it takes, because as we’ve established, I’m just not smart enough to do two things well at once. Often I come out of my fog to the 15th in a series of Mommy, Mama, MOM, Mommy, Mom, MOMMY, Mommy…you get the idea…to see one of them standing there. How long has that crusty stuff been on your face? What is that?
So the other night, there was a member of my household snoring like a souped up 1979 El Camino. And as much as I tried to work this into a construction dream, in which I have a new house built that comes with servants and a very cool library, I just could not fall asleep. So I got up. To blog. And right before I finished that entry, I checked my email. There was an email from AG’s cub scout pack leader. Nuggets. That never goes well for me. I have determined that on top of stinking at balance, I am totally not smart enough to be a cub scout mom. Here is how the email went for me:
Subject Line: achievements (I knew we were in trouble right then…)
Hello Everyone,
I just wanted to tell you all that I have just gone through all of the boys’ folders to see what achievements have been earned for tomorrow night’s pack meeting. If this information is incorrect, let me know as soon as possible.
Cody – Has completed enough to earn one bead.
Adam – Has completed enough to earn one bead and one belt loop.
Enrique – Has completed enough to earn two beads.
Patrick – Has completed the requirements for Bear and will receive his Bear patch tomorrow and his last two beads.
Nathaniel – Has completed enough to receive 1 bead, an archery and BB Gun belt loop.
Collin – Has completed enough for his last 3 beads and ahs completed the requirements for Bear and will receive his bear patch tomorrow.
AG – The folder was not filled out. I know he has done some activities, so please get with me so we can ensure he is getting credit for what he has done.
Oh dear. I had many thoughts go through my head at midnight as I read this email.
I thought that folder was just for attendance. I guess now that I think on it, it did seem a little thick for just an attendance log, and why would you each have a folder for attendance. If it were just about attendance, there’d be a central roll book. Nice one, Missy.
What’s a BBGun Belt Loop? I want one of those.
What’s a bead?
I hate being more stupid than the other cub scout moms. Nuggets.
So I sent her a “wow, how stupid of me” reply. Needless to say (but you know me, I have to say it anyway), we didn’t get any beads, belt loops, candy stripes, wild animal badges, or winks and smiles the next night at the pack meeting.
I still don’t know what a bead is.
Or how to get the Bear badge.
And I still can’t juggle more than one activity.
And why are there so many cub scouts that are punks? Is there a bead for “Stopped Acting Like a Punk”? ‘Cuz we could get that one!
Please come finish my laundry.
Speaking of laundry. And balance. I took this picture today.
Large Family Laundry Basket. Uncle Jake standing next to it.
You know the old science books that have a man standing next to a T-Rex so you can see exactly how large the T-Rex really is? Well, that’s what we have going on here. Uncle Jake stopped by. He apparently felt it was safe to stand there next to the basket of clean laundry. I have two problems with the laundry in this house:
The clean laundry.
The dirty laundry.
And so. In one week’s time, I have to get this house cleaned up. Totally. While blogging. I’m never going to be able to do this.
Never.
Wait till you see the pictures I took of Scary Room. I had to go get my wide angle lens, no kidding. But I’m saving those. For now.
It is nearly 10 o’clock on an evening that follows a bedtime of 3 a.m. this morning. And actually, that isn’t so unusual lately. It isn’t uncommon to find me at this here laptop at 2 a.m. on any given night. Blogging is ruining my life.
Ha ha ha ha ha. No, I am joking. But I do think I need to make this one short and hit the sack tonight. I’m not sure how long I can pretend to have acute Narcolepsy in front of the children during daylight hours.
Since it is early in the new year, with the dew barely dry on our dreams and resolutions (cue the pan flute), I will post a photo of Mama’sBoy’s goals for the year. These will give you a whole new respect for him. Feel free to let your mind wander. Just go with it.
Mama's Boy Makes Resolutions
Ah, phonetic spellings are golden sometimes.
Yesterday I went to a High Tea at my little Christian school from eons ago. Me. High Tea. I know. That is a post just waiting to happen. Though I did not knock anything over or bring screaming shame to myself or anyone else, I certainly was a less-than-obvious choice to be at a high tea partaking in froo froo doodads. I took good mental notes. When they have arranged themselves in my mind, perhaps those notes will arrive here. As I left high tea, the wind whipped up like a modern day plague and threatened to take off with me. I’m not easy to take off with, either, I can assure you. And in light of that wind, and the Informinator’s mentioning to me that she flew a kite with her kids in that, I thought back on a nostalgic scene from a few years ago. Kites used to be all the rage around here.
First, let me paint you a picture. Me. AG. MamasBoy. Outside in stale, 90 degree, 5 o’clock sunlight. There are scads of cars, with more scads of people in them, returning to the neighborhood after a day of work. And there we are on the sidewalk carrying a $6 ToysRUs Superman kite, worth no more in quality than the 17 cents it cost them to make it. For days — weeks even — AG has come home from school begging to fly that kite. And each time it has come up I have managed a plausible excuse for why we absolutelycannot fly it that day.
There’s no wind (this one has worked on numerous occasions).
It’s raining outside.
You can’t really fly kites very well in subdivisions.
The planets are not aligned this week.
I’m too fat to run with it.
It just works best at a park or a beach.
Don’t you have homework…some cutting or something?
Today he sensed a hiccup in my answer; a pause just long enough to ask the question a different way. And for some reason, I answered it a different way. I said, “When I’m done folding the laundry, I’ll check the weather outside.” He lit up, went running for the front door, and shouted over his shoulder, “I’ll check it for you!” I knew where that was going. He only has one forecast. As I suspected, he returned with his one forecast: “It’s PERFECT!” Well, surprisingly enough, this time he was right. It truly was good kite flying weather, if you aren’t on a sidewalk in a suburban neighborhood with every neighbor in the whole place driving past you.
So, there we were.
On the sidewalk.
And being that my science is not up to par with my awesome cutting and pasting skills, it took me a good minute and lots of rotating in place on the sidewalk to even figure out which way the wind was blowing. Then, I had to figure out which way we needed to run with it. And then, all that was left was to run.
And we did.
AG held the string and the handle while I ran behind him with the kite and Mama’sBoy ran behind me bursting forth little random “hurrays” and the suchlike. We ran with a flimsy superman kite like an awkward little kite brigade, tossing it clumsily into the air when a puff of wind would happen past. And car after car passed, watching us thrash, enjoying the show.
Time after time, the kite looked us square in the face and said ‘no thanks’ as it bounced off the pavement. Time after time, we walked back to our starting block to run with it again.
Only twice did that kite get airborne. Two borderline successes for at least 13 failures, but that was enough for AG. He stopped in the driveway, sweat rolling down his face, and said, “I’m done. I need a drink.”
And that was that. So now I get to add another excuse to my list for the next time he asks:
Happy Birthday, Jennifer! From the 3rd and 4th grade class!
Today is a special day for a special person. I had planned to celebrate in person, a bit early, but you know how life is; it likes to thump us around sometimes. So in lieu of an in person flesh pile, we are instituting a virtual blogathon birthday. This will be a departure from the usual posts from the Village Idiot. Please return on Wednesday for more of that flavor. For now, though, allow me to introduce you to someone who has changed an awful lot of lives and just happens to be wearing a cone shaped Elmo hat as she blows out 40 birthday candles before her house burns down!
The first song is definitely the best of the bunch.
And here’s another group of people wanting to share the love. This one makes me happy.
Annndddd…one more. And this one pretty much illustrates everything that is wrong with my family. Shirtless (again). Really REALLY loud. And though they can carry a tune, they have, on this very important occasion, chosen not to. My apologies, friend. They love you anyway. I mean it. This one makes me cringe.
For other personal videograms, see the Shout Outs tab. And for our best attempts at honoring our dear friend, read on!
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I wonder if you know my friend, Jennifer. Today is her birthday. Her 40th birthday. I hope she won’t mind me posting that to the worldwide superinformationhighway web. She usually isn’t the type to let a number get to her. In fact, she makes it a habit to rise above most things. Things that have at times made my mind shut completely down. And since I hit 40 first, I feel like perhaps it’s okay to blast to the world that she is here now…joining me. Convalescence. It feels good, really.
If you know my friend Jennifer, then you have some idea why I am dedicating today’s entire blog to her. In one word, she is amazing. If she gets knocked down, she gets back up stronger than she was. If someone else gets knocked down, she is there to pull them up. If the world sits down on her, she learns something while she is trapped there and she prays herself out from under it. If there is a silver lining, she finds it. If there isn’t a silver lining, she makes one herself (though not with a needle and thread…she does it with hot glue…like me!). She is an encourager, a worshiper, an indescribable friend, a servant, the embodiment of love, and an Overcomer.
She is Jennifer the Overcomer.
I first met Jennifer at Florida College in the fall of 1989. Unbeknownst to me at the time, Jennifer had met my mother at church a few weeks prior to us starting college. My mother went on and on about how I didn’t want to go there and maybe Jennifer and I could be roommates. It was a recruiting campaign, but done with just enough raw facts that Jennifer made a mental note to avoid the head case named Missy and that was that. I was a head case, but she didn’t actually try to avoid me. That’s not who Jennifer is. Time passed, I got less homesick, our circles began to overlap a tad (I know you are going to find this difficult to believe, but she ran with a cooler circle than I could really keep up with), and we became friends. And by the end of our sophomore year, with many adventures, trips, and failed pranks under our belts, we were the best of friends. While I watched her try to covertly slink around with the dude who eventually became her husband, I was spending time with her sister in the Warren County Jail. We weren’t inmates. We were visitors. And believe me, we were the best things to be seen in that place since 1922.
Her friendship, her circle in Kentucky, her mom and dad, her sister, have all blessed me and I am so much better because of this. I feel blessed to have hung out in their home when I was still completely free and irresponsible and blissfully innocent. I feel blessed to have been there in those early days of her finding the person she would spend her life with. I feel blessed to have been the sloth she chose to watch her sweet baby while she was off helping her sister get ready to marry (believe me…there’s a whole blog waiting on the foibles of my babysitting. Hallie, I tried!). I feel blessed to have sat on porch after porch after porch, year after year, chatting in a sweet saltwater breeze. I feel blessed that when life sat down on top of me a time or two, and I was completely convinced I was just going to stay there, she wouldn’t let me. And when she needed to, she just laid down next to me under the burden. I am thankful that 22 years later, I am still wishing her Happy Birthday.
Happy Birthday, Dear Friend. Thank you for overcoming. Thank you for keeping your gaze fixed on Jesus, because it helps me do the same. Sometimes I am tempted to forget. But you won’t let me.
I hope the world scoots up under you today, to the tune of Happy Birthday and to the texture of everything you love. I hope you can feel the weight of a crown around your head, because you deserve to be treated like royalty.
And if you don’t know my friend, Jennifer, look around here today. By the time you are done, you’ll have some idea who she really is. But you won’t know all of it, because there’s too much for a silly blog. If you already know my friend, Jennifer, tell God thank you–because you’ve been given a gift.
I love you, Jen. Happy Birthday!
-Missy
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Happy 40th Birthday, Jennifer! You are a special friend, a caring and compassionate person and you are an amazing testimony to God’s grace and love. I have so many wonderful memories and thoughts of you. I was blessed to meet you while our girls jumped rope together with the awesome Jumpin’ Jaguars! We packed our girls up and sent them to Mason, Ohio for camp. I will never forget your leadership in preparing their “Medieval Times” door theme and Hallie’s incredible costume. You have always gone above and beyond in providing a taxi service to all those around you too. You have always been there to make my life easier. And you do everything with a smile. I will try to express a few of my thoughts with this….
J is for joyful
E is for encouraging
N is for nurturing
N is for naturally nice
I is for inspiring
F is for faithful friend
E is for eternal life through Christ
R is for radiant source of strength
Jennifer, I love you and I am very thankful that God has put you in my life. I think of you and pray for you and your family often. You truly are an amazing woman of God. Your love for others shines through in all you do.Happy Birthday and welcome to the “40 Club”. I have been waiting on you! 🙂
Thanks for being my eBay Queen!
Love ya!
DeAnn McElroy
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Jennifer,
40 years… wow… I am so thankful I have an opportunity to write and tell you once again of how much of an absolute blessing it has been for me to know you. I hate that we don’t get time together as we once did. The loss is mine for sure. I’ve heard “preachers” talk of “walking sermons” and I don’t know if you are a sermon as much as a just a walking glory!! A forty year pathway that if anyone were to follow such a pathway it would only lead them to a relationship with God that is saturated with complete dependence, love, faith, happiness, and to me, someone who doesn’t just hold His hand, but is living with their arms wrapped around His neck because you just love and want to be that close to Him. This makes me smile!!! Your faith and light on this earth is simply too rare. You have only (and always) inspired me to reach more within to hopefully also become something deeper for my God. In you I have witnessed time and time again that suffering is no reason to give up on God, but hanging with Him until the end is what matters. I’ve never witnessed it to be the immediate outcome that counts with you, but its the end result, one that will never be regretted. You’ve shown me and everyone that the greatest blessing in life IS one’s relationship with God. It is no wonder that I truly carry your friendship and example in my heart. You are and will always be a kindred spirit to me and a friend I cherish to my core. I couldn’t be more sincere in that statement Jennifer. I look forward to nothing more than spending an eternity with you someday so we can hang out always! Thank you for being such an inspiration and light.. SUCH a LIGHT… in this life. You my dear…ROCK. 🙂 I love you dearly and hope you have the best 40th birthday on the planet! YOU DESERVE IT! I love you dearly!!
Your friend always and always,
Rachel
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Dearest Jennifer,
A few months ago I decided to make a list of the women who have had the most influence on my spiritual life, and your name is on there. What I have witnessed in you time and time again over the 12 years that I have known you is selflessness, and it always shines so brightly as I struggle to fight the selfishness within. You are gracious, kind and unassuming, constantly taking an interest in the lives of those around you. You have uplifting words to offer even in the midst of your most difficult challenges.
I remember years ago your telling Durell and me that just seeing us at assemblies and knowing that we were there was an encouragement to you whether or not you spoke with us. I remember at the time thinking, “We’re encouraging Jennifer? She’s the one encouraging all the rest of us!!” And it was just like you to be offering such words to others–not just thinking them, but actually taking the time to express them. That spoke volumes about you to me–your humble, thoughtful character.
I’ll never forget that. It made such an impact and brought to mind so much. It put into words the reality that we’re all in this together, validating each other’s decision to live a life for God, and that our loving God planned for us to meet regularly for our own benefit.
You are a treasured sister and friend. I am grateful for you and I love you.
Mom,
On this special day I just wanted to let you know how much I truly love you!!! I don’t know what I would do without you!!! You are the best mommy any kid could ever ask for!!! I love you and hope your day is great!!!
Happy Birthday, Jennifer!! Jennifer, I have known you for about 5.5 years and I can truly say that you are a part of my family…both physically and spiritually. Thank you for being the wonderful person that you are to everyone. You are the epitome of a Christian woman and the woman spoken of in Proverbs 31. You are loving, caring, humble, sweet, thoughtful, understanding, funny, helpful, etc. The list could go on and on! You are someone I look up to in my life and am so thankful for having you as my sister in Christ. Thank you so much for showing me your love for God. You may not realize it, but it helps me love Him more. I thank God for you daily and will continue to do so. I hope your day is as amazing as you are! Love you very much!” Megan Stinson
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Jennifer has always allowed Christ to minister to me through her. Her love shines through her smile and warmth accompanies her every touch. Her compassion reigns supreme and her tenderness never fades. When I am having a hard day, I always wish I could be with her. She does all this and is still one of the most beautiful women I know! I am so thankful and blessed to call her my friend. HAPPY BIRTHDAY!
Love, Becky Dobbins
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When I think of Jennifer, the first thing that comes to my mind is the word LOVE. Jennifer loves deeply and with all she’s got. You can have a short conversation with Jennifer, but when you leave that conversation you know without a doubt that she loves you. Jennifer is a friend, role model, Godly Christian women and a sister I’ve always wanted. I’m so thankful for her and the love she shows to me and my family. I hope that today (and always) she knows that she is loved as much and more than the love she shows to everyone on a daily basis. When I count my blessings I always count you twice.
Forty looks good on you girl! Wear it proud!!!
I LOVE YOU!!!
Lauren
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Happy Birthday, Jennifer! OK. I am not selecting one specific memory but rather a general observation about you and your little sis. Never in my life have I seen two sisters as close as you are. I have the feeling you guys could do that cool thing that they say twins can do…you know …look at one another across a crowded room, not say a word, and totally know what the other is thinking. I’m right, aren’t I? 🙂 After getting to so spend some time working with you sisters I could not get over the fact you girls were just so stinking nice to one another! 🙂 Do you remember when the 3 of us shared the back office together? It was then I got my first taste of the simply adorable “nerdy” sisters. Watching how you interacted with one another was totally endearing to me. Yes it’s true, if you remember, I did refer to you girls as sister “nerds” HOWEVER, it was with the deepest admiration and love that I said it! There’s just a sweet innocence about you girls and your sisterly bond; it’s a blessing to be around. So, on your special day, I want you to know that you and Nat enabled me to witness what true sisterly love is. I thank you for those sweet memories. It is obvious that you sisters have a bond that could never and will never be broken.I found a few quotes on sisters that I wanted to share:
A sister is a forever friend. ~Author Unknown
In the cookies of life, sisters are the chocolate chips. ~Author Unknown
There can be no situation in life in which the conversation of my dear sister will not administer some comfort to me. ~Mary Montagu
How do people make it through life without a sister? ~Sara Corpening
And I leave you with my favorite…………
A sister is a little bit of childhood that can never be lost. ~Marion C. Garretty
Happy day sweet Jennifer!
Love ya,
~Melanie (Stinson) Frye
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My Aunt Jennifer is someone that I am made better by knowing and having in my life. I had the wonderful opportunity to live in Bowling Green for a few years, in which we were able to share life together. Aunt Jennifer demonstrated to me what patience, devotion, and unwavering love looks like. She is someone that allows herself to be vulnerable, sharing her own struggles, sorrows, and joys with those around her. This automatically breaks down barriers that we may have and allows ourselves to share our own struggles or joys with her, mimicking that same vulnerability. Not only has this characteristic proven to provide healing, but it also has strengthened our relationship to a level that I don’t share with many other family members. Who would have thought that this kind of openness and sharing would encourage me and push me to try and provide that kind of comfort and safety with those I meet. I have learned so much by her example. She is hard to sum up, though. Her crazy amount of beauty, her overwhelming strength, her immense passion and love for others, and her complete selflessness can’t even truly be put into words. I love my Aunt Jennifer so much and hope to measure up to even half the godly wife, mother, and friend that she is. I love you Jennifer!
Jennifer, Well some of my first memories of you were when you were a child living off Cumberland trace rd. I remember going to your alls house and you eating butter by the stick just like a candy bar or banana. I never saw anyone do that, so that stuck with me. Kelly always called your family the fancy family! Don’t really know why but that comes to mind. Also I think of you and Natalie helping with our wedding reception I think it was. You must have been about 10 or so. Hard to believe how time has flown by.
You have been such an inspiration to me in the way you have dealt with adversity in life. God has used you and you have been willing to be used by Him to show us all how to keep trusting and loving through difficulty. Thank you for this!
I pray your 40th birthday is so wonderful and special for you! May God richly bless you in the years ahead! I love you! Sheryl
Trust in the lord with all your heart!
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When Jennifer and I were little, for some reason, Jennifer and Natalie came to stay with us for a few days. I’ll never forget that my family and I were floorboarded because when we offered them cereal for breakfast, they had never had sugary cereal before. It was the 1970s after all and everybody ate Cap’n Crunch and Frosted Flakes. We corrupted them by feeding them these cereals and then took them to eat at Godfather’s Pizza, a less than upstanding restaurant! I remember we were so pleased with ourselves for introducing them to such delicacies. I’m sure we probably exposed them to all sorts of heinous acts that visit. They definitely got a chance to see our wonderful habits, such as eating white bread etc. Thankfully, we didn’t cause them to enter the downward spiral of a life of processed food addiction. However, Jennifer is addicted to Riley’s Bakery cakes and there is no good reasoning for that!
Happy 40th Birthday, Jennifer! I love you and am so thankful you are my dear friend!
Julia
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The first time I met Jennifer was when I was in high school and Jennifer was a counselor for summer camp in Oregon. She was blonde and beautiful and in college, and seemed to have the admiration of all the girls. I had no real idea about the amazing woman I would know again later in my
life and the incredible impact she would have on me as a woman.
While I was in college I moved to Bowling Green, KY to finish up school
and was blessed to meet her again and know her better. The more I learned about Jennifer the
more my admiration grew.
She is stronger than anyone I know! Her inner strength is incredible
and with that so is her patience and long-suffering! She is an amazing
woman who I believe God gave as a gift to all who know her. She lives
her life, and without her knowing, she truly inspires others. My life
is more blessed by knowing Jennifer.
I love you Jennifer and am so thankful for you!!! Happy Birthday!!! 🙂
Melanie Coffey
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A very SPECIAL HAPPY BIRTHDAY to you Jennifer!!!!!
This is to YOU Jennifer!!!!
As we celebrate YOU on YOUR special day we want to thank you for being the person you are:
> A wonderful wife to Tim!
> A loving mother to Hallie and Tyler!
> A caring daughter in law!
> A special daughter!
> An awesome sister!
> A superb sister in law!
> A compassionate friend!
> An endearing aunt!
>
Despite all of your struggles, your ups and downs and your many aches and
pains you continue to reach out to others with your love and
compassion!!!!!!!!!! We love you dearly and and so very thankful and
blessed to have you as part of our family!!!!! Much, much love to you,
Kari, Guy, Andreas, Hanna, Michael, Matthew and Riley James!!!!!
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Jennifer,
Just wanted to tell you welcome to the 40 CLUB!!! You are and have been such a special person to me the first time we met at the Honaker’s. You are the one person I look to when things get tough and I think if Jennifer can endure the things she is having to go through who am I to complain. You are the toughest lady I know. Your love for God and others are beyond compare. I LOVE YOU and wish you the happiest of all birthdays. Don’t look at 40 as a sad birthday but a happy one because it only gets better from here. Have a wonderful day and remember how many people love you and your family!!!
Love
Melissa Arnold
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Almost anybody could tell you that I’m practically a doctor. It’s in the genes. No, I didn’t go to Harvard. And no, I didn’t go to “medical school.” And yes, I did make Cs in high school chemistry. But have you met my mother? I dare you to get a malady that she can’t diagnose. Get sick in some weird way (normal ways are fine too; all the easier for her, really.), save the $100 your insurance will charge you, and call my mom.
Well, I’ve just finished reading the account of the Israelites who complained that they had no meat to eat. This wasn’t the first time I’d ever read this, of course. I’ve read this account multiple times and was taught it as a kid. Somehow, though, I never connected it to the way I behave. So many times I’ve read an Old Testament story and said to myself, “Wow. Total dummies. Glad I was born with a brain.” I now realize that I’d have made a fine Israelite. I’ve heard my kids do this as well. We’ll sit down at the table and one of them will say in a whiny tone, “I don’t have a drink.” I have no problem getting a kid a drink, but I have a problem with the way it is often stated. (Actually, truth be told…I’d rather them not drink, as it just promotes more time in the Powder Room, which usually requires some overt parental involvement…) Anyway. Back to how we say things. Why don’t I learn from this? So often we cry and complain before we just respectfully ask for something.
Simple. Polite. Unassuming. Humble. Here I am, wandering around looking for meat, when I could have just asked for some.
Nicely.
So last night, minus a few very important people, I ate dinner and hung out with my core group from our tiny little Christian college. It was there that I met my dearest friends. It was there that I met my husband. It was there that I became comfortable with being a dork. And it was there that I stepped onto a path for my life, along which I am still walking. On this path, there is a Dora big wheel. On the Dora big wheel, there is an oversized 6-year-old pushing two buttons that honk two different horns. And she yells in that non-inflective (made that word up and you know EXACTLY what I mean, don’t you?) “Turning Right! Derecha!” And there’s apparently a laser gun, because you know how violent Dora and Boots are. And the engine is very loud and powerful. Why is this big wheel in my house, right next to my computer? And why am I not yelling for him to stop?
I’m sorry. I digress. That almost derailed this entire process.
So about that path. I think any place I went to school or didn’t go to school would have worked out fine, as long as God was involved. But I went where I went and I did what I did and I met who I met and 20 years, many dear friends, 1 husband, and four children later, I am blessed. And I am at the threshold of a reunion weekend where I will see a lot of people whose names I hope will come to me as my lips form a greeting of sorts. We shall see. Last night was a smallish reunion, again without some very important members of the group (you know who you are and we love you). Toward the end, I got the bright idea to self time a Canon Powershot that was balanced precariously on top of an umbrella, which was then horizontally placed across two hooks of a hat rack. This photo was the result of that first attempt.
Following this lovely “normal” shot, for the second photo, I yelled “Do something goofy!” And 8 seconds later, the timer went off, the result of which is below. Apparently, this group’s interpretation of goofy is quite different from mine. We have bunny ears (really, Jennifer?), glamor shots (come ON, Heather!). We have a couple of tilted heads. And we have monstrously disfigured. I’ll let you try to figure out which one I am. Even 1000 words wouldn’t cover this one.
For those of you who are serious runners, you recognize the signs of a person in training. You know when you have crossed paths with a person bent upon training, winning–swallowing glory whole. Those of you not in this class of people may need just a few bullets to help you identify a Winner in Training, or WIT for short.
1. A WiT registers early for a race, thus making a commitment that starts in the heart and filters out into the last little puff of New Balance shoestring lint.
2. WiTs run at least 3 times over the course of 5 weeks to prepare for the race they registered early for. At least one of those three runs will be a “dress rehearsal” for the actual race and will be completed without dry heaving or knocking on a stranger’s door to beg for just a spatter of water.
3. When a WiT passes by a neighbor walking their dog or baby, they always run or bounce athletically in place while conversing a tad breathlessly. There is no stopping.The theme from Rocky is usually playing somewhere…
4. Weather is no object. A WiT accepts a rainy 42 degrees like it’s a hug from a leprechaun. (This is a good thing.)
5. If a Winner in Training passes by a wicker chair at the end of somebody’s driveway, sitting there…empty with purpose–with a small plastic bucket just perfect for a tiny little throw up–they will not ever sit down and throw up.
Even the thought is offensive.
I am training for the Gasparilla.
I have run twice.
If you see me doubled over at the waist, I got some new shoes. I like to look at them up close. The shoes are awesome.
That chair really exists.
Just to taunt me.
This week marks a milestone for us as a family. We officially made it to the youngest child’s 3rd birthday without another child in the hatcher. Considering how slow we were to get started, there is quite a tale to tell here. However, that’s for some other day. For today, I have cakes on my mind. If you’ve been following this blog from the beginning, you’ve endured 2 DAYS of cake piping references. And furthermore, you are aware that those references have nothing to do with me. Because I don’t do cakes. I don’t even buy and transport cakes without consternation and disproportionate destruction. The following entry takes place over the course of 3 days last May. Because the bedlam was consistent and unending, I wrote it all down as it occurred. It was bad.
Snappshots.com 
