tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5085453313006133402024-02-06T20:37:05.373-06:00only casual observationsThoughts on family life and interests, experience living with Special Needs individuals.Janie Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18053546704853403645noreply@blogger.comBlogger235125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-508545331300613340.post-48520322860882068312022-07-27T05:14:00.001-05:002022-07-27T05:14:21.213-05:00Not my Usual Blog
I’m using this site as a web site for now in order to recruit a new Personal Assistant for Walker.
If you’ve found your way here, you might want to click on the list on the right and read some of my stories about Down Syndrome.
Or, maybe you just want to know more about the job as Walker’s personal assistant, and that’s fine too.
Walker is going to be 47 this month, and lives at home with us in East Memphis. He works at Superlo Foods on Spotswood, and has been there almost 24 years. He enjoys attending a number of social events designed for adults with Special Needs, and also attends a Language Learning Lab and speech therapy at the University of Memphis.
Since Walker doesn’t drive, he needs transportation to and from his various activities and work, and the State of Tennessee provides funding for his needs under what is called “the waiver”. The waiver has requirements, which his “Personal Assistant” mist work within, and these will be explained to you more fully if you are interested in applying for the job.
The hours for the job are somewhat erratic, and somewhat, but not completely, flexible. They generally work well for a U of M student or someone else with a flexible schedule. You can work about 20 hours a week. The pay is around $20 an hour.
There are some requirements and training required, CPR and First Aid certification, Freedom from Harm training, and a background check are among these. It will take several weeks to get you into the system.
If you think you’re interested, I’d love to talk to you. Please respond to morrishome1@bellsouth.net or call me at 901761-1020 for an appointment.
Thanks for your interest! Janie Morris
Janie Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18053546704853403645noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-508545331300613340.post-40777743768254897742022-07-18T11:28:00.002-05:002022-07-18T11:28:38.892-05:00<h2 style="text-align: left;">Wandering off my Usual Path This Morning</h2><h2 style="text-align: left;"> <span style="font-weight: normal;">I don't usually write about my childhood, so most of you probably don't know that I was brought up as the child of a politician. After watching a good bit of the hearings on the January 6th hearings into the insurrection that my husband has stated, and I probably concur with, is the most significant event in our lifetime, I started thinking about what my daddy would think of politics today.</span></h2><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium; font-weight: normal;">Daddy was a true-blue Democrat, but he would probably find the two parties of the forties and fifties unrecognizable today. My earliest conversation with him about political parties occurred in 1953 or '54 when I declared that I wanted to vote for Eisenhower. He told me first off that I couldn't vote because I wasn't old enough, and secondly, that Ike was a Republican, and we were certainly not Republicans. I was crushed, I liked Ike! He reminded me of my Popo, who had died not long before. I became aware of Ike when a friend gave me a pin with his picture on it, and Daddy had a Stevenson pin, and there was a decided difference in my young eye. Never mind. The issue was settled.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium; font-weight: normal;">When it came time to campaign, whether as an incumbent at the Public Service Commission, or as a wannabe Governor, Daddy was the most ethical of politicians. I know he would be horrified at what he called "mudslinging" that goes on today. In his day, it was considered taboo to so much as mentioned your opponent's name in a seech. He thought it was giving the other guy free publicity. He campaigned on his record of helping the "little guy". He believed that keeping utility rates as low as possible while not making it impossible for the businesses who provided them to make a profit was his job, and he did it well. Pretty much what the Dems espouse today. He had a relatively small, but loyal following, mostly comprised of people he knew from he knew from his days at Auburn University or from the Marines. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium; font-weight: normal;">Daddy was proud of his family, and when campaigning, Mama was his biggest assett. She was pretty and vivacious, and remembered names and faces. He loved the trips when all of us appeared together on a platform stage in front of small crowds in little country towns. He came up with the idea of travelling in a small heliocopter (pictured below) so that he could drop in on more of those towns, accompanied by a truck hauling a bed with a huge plywood book which two burly guys turned the pages on while we sat rather impatiently on the stage while he talked about his big ideas for the Great State of Alabama.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium; font-weight: normal;">Years later when I was in college, I was working as a volunteer in the Student Government office when we were told that Barry Goldwater was planning a campaign stop on our campus and that we would be in charge of the event. I didn't know Mr. Goldwater from a frog, but I was more than willing to pitch in as usual to make the event go smoothly. I don't remember much about the visit, but I was impressed by his speech, and if I had been old enough, I might have voted for him. I had no idea what party he belonged to</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium; font-weight: normal;">Daddy didn't live long enough to see what has happened to the two parties, and he wouldn't recognize them if he had. The hot button issue in his day was segregation and like almost everyone in Alabama, he supported it. Basically, he would have been unelectable had he not. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium; font-weight: normal;">One night when I was home from Auburn, I can remember him being served a warrant after we had gone to bed. A law officer knocked on the big brass knocker on our front door, waking all of us up. He presented Daddy with a court order to take down the signs over the drinking fountains in all the bus stations designated "white" and "colored". Daddy, as President of the Alabama Public Service Commission was responsible for all public utilities, and the transportation system came under his control. I had no idea what came of the case, whether he complied with the order or not, I just went back to school and forgot about it until years when I saw movies about the incident and saw the signs come down. Daddy never talked about work with us. He just did his job.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;">Daddy held his job from the mid-forties until the mid-seventies when he was unceremoniously dumped in the Republican landslide when all Democratic incumbents were thrown out with the trash. For his many years of service to the state of Alabama he didn't receive so much as a plaque, as I remember. I don't agree with the ideas he held back when, by any means, but I do know the time he grew up in and I understand that he was not a bad man. The African Americans that came into our lives never had a better friend, always knowing they could come to help, night or day until the day they died, so I can't judge his politics by today's standards. I hope you won't either.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">I don't know what he would make of our former president, or of his followers. I know he would be horrified at the attack on the Capitol, because he believed in upholding the law, and being honorable. I think there are a lot of men like him out there who have been led astray by our former president. I hope they will stop and re-center as some of them people I've seen testifying seem to have done once all the evidence comes out. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">There is no divine right endowed on anyone simply because they were born with white skin or a silver spoon in their mouth. That part in The Constitution about all of us being created equal really means something. Let's take a minute to think about that.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">Blessings, Janie</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p>Janie Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18053546704853403645noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-508545331300613340.post-75812299983581429952022-06-30T11:01:00.005-05:002022-06-30T11:06:30.465-05:00<p> </p><h2 style="text-align: left;"></h2><h1 style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">Making Yourself Obsolete is the Hardest Job</span></h1><h3 style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-weight: normal;">The really bad thing about being a parent is that you really
need to understand from the beginning is that your job is to work yourself out
of a job.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></h3><h3 style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-weight: normal;">That precious tiny infant, who once depended on you for life itself, simply must be taught to survive on his
or her own, or you have honestly failed as a parent.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m not aware of any parenting book that
actually tells you this fact, but it is so, and it's never too late to give this some thought and make some changes to learn to live with it.</span><br /><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">From the time those little fingers let go of yours, or the coffee table, or whatever, your offspring is saying, "Hey, I've got this!" All you have to do is believe them and kiss the boo boos as they happen and let them try again.</span></span></h3><h3 style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">It doesn’t happen all at once, but always on
their own terms </span>and sometimes your child will need to be your child once again.</span><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-weight: normal;"> </span><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-weight: normal;">He or she will come to you for a little “mothering,” or maybe they won't, but it's up to them, not you at this point.</span><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-weight: normal;"> What they need </span><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-weight: normal;">might be joining the family for
vacation, or a home cooked meal, or bringing laundry over because you have
better smelling detergent than the facilities at the apartment building.</span><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-weight: normal;"> </span><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-weight: normal;">Whatever it is, the best advice I can give
from the point of view of daughter and mother and grandmother, is to accept whatever it is for what it is
without complaint and rejoice in the moment!</span></h3><h2 style="text-align: left;"></h2><h3 style="text-align: left;"><br /><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In today’s society,
where more and more offspring are establishing careers and having relationships
that are serious enough to be complicated, but aren’t exactly marriage,
sometimes this is even more important.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>There may be several of these relationships in your adult child’s
lifetime.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You might be more in love with
some of these partners than he or she is.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>You might justifiably or unjustifiably disapprove of some of the relationships,
but that’s not your job anymore unless asked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>And, if asked, it’s your job to find out what kind of an answer your dear
one is looking for,and offer that and no more.</span></span></h3><h3 style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-weight: normal;">You know that line in the wedding vows “forsaking all others” kinda
means you too Mama and Daddy.</span><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-weight: normal;"> </span><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-weight: normal;">Your daughter or son
who has chosen his life partner is actually choosing someone else to do most of
your job. If you’re lucky and both of you are generous, you will all support
each other on an “as needed” basis for the rest of your lives.</span><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-weight: normal;"> </span><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-weight: normal;">In an ideal world, that’s how it works, but
we don’t live in an ideal world, do we?</span></h3><h3 style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">That doesn’t mean that you have to cut all ties to your
offspring as they develop more and more independence, not at all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The happiest families I know of are the ones
where the parents are there, on call, in the background enjoying their lives free
from day- to-day responsibilities and cares of child rearing, because…wait for
it…their children are no longer children anymore!</span></span></h3><h3 style="text-align: left;"><br /><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">When I was a young mom overloaded with four children, one
with special needs, trips back home where someone set the table and made my
favorite dishes for dinner, put my kids to bed with the stash of Golden Books
she kept for just such occasions, and let me have a blessed night of
uninterrupted sleep in my own bed in my old room, were precious.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mama gave me what I needed, when I needed it,
when I could accept it.</span></span></h3><h3 style="text-align: left;"><br /><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">In later years, I was fighting brush fires on all
fronts, many of which Mama couldn’t help with, and I rejected her help in some
rather harsh ways, which I now regret, I know I hurt my mother terribly, mostly while trying to protect her from my problems.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There was never a total rift in our
relationship, but a sort of bewilderment on both our parts of who are we now
and what are we supposed to do.</span></span></h3><h3 style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> <br /> </span></span></span><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">You are still who you’ve always been.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You’re the mother who loves her child,
whatever the child’s age or needs, and if you’ve done it right, you’ll both know
it’s okay to offer each other help when needed. But remember the title of this piece...Your job is to make yourself obsolete! That's not a bad thing. That's a job well done. So now rest a bit, find some new things to do with your time, help when you're asked, volunteer to help if you're not asked, but don't get in a huff if your help isn't needed, it only means you've done a really good job!</span></span></h3><h3 style="text-align: left;"><br /></h3>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><o:p></o:p></p>Janie Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18053546704853403645noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-508545331300613340.post-24256602673178500442022-06-20T04:27:00.001-05:002022-06-20T04:27:11.936-05:00<p> </p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Juneteenth Another Fake Holiday, or Not<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">One of my
daughters married into a family who didn’t seem to think much of the “Hallmark
Holidays” that our family had always acknowledged in some way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We had always thought about gifts and honored
Father’s Day, Mother’s Day, Valentine’s Day,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>and perhaps other special days with cards and gifts, some carefully
selected, others thrown together at the last minute.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our children went to kindergartens that
worked on crafts to bring lovingly home to show off on refrigerators.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We wouldn’t think of ignoring the day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In recent history there seems to be one after
another of these being voted into law by Congress, no less, and even our family
can’t keep up with all of them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Facebook
reminds us, merchants remind us incessantly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>There they are, here they come, HONOR THEM!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I never
thought much about some of these holidays honoring minority groups as belonging
to anyone but that minority until I gave birth to a son with Down Syndrome, and
there became a day to honor those with the condition.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I realized that somewhere, sometime, someone
had campaigned to raise awareness of the contribution to society the persons
with Down Syndrome make, and that they succeeded in convincing the powers that
be that it deserved recognition.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The other
night I happened to be watching a panel of gurus on my favorite liberal talking
heads show, and the white moderator was asking whether white people should
celebrate Juneteenth, and I heard some very erudite answers from the panel of
African Americans.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You can read more
about it in this link from the Encyclopedia Brittanica: <a href="https://www.britannica.com/topic/Juneteenth">Juneteenth | History,
Meaning, Flag, Importance, & Facts | Britannica</a> , or just do a little
thinking of your own.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">What would
it mean to you as a person of color, or gender, or a person of different abilities,
or of a different sexual orientation or preference if one day you were given
official recognition that you had the same rights as all of the rest of society,
and that the rest of society actually was happy about that right?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">To me it
meant that my son had the right to a public education appropriate to his
abilities.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At the time, I wasn’t happy
with what the public education had to offer, so I sent him to a private school,
just as I did his sisters.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But had I not
been able to afford a private school, and we<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>just barely could, he would have had the right for me to fight for what
he needed in public education.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Later on,
when he graduated, he was given some job training at no cost to me other than
my tax dollars helping to pay for the public monies that paid for the programs
he was enrolled in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His employers had no
right to discriminate against him simply because of his condition, but looked
only at whether he was capable of doing the job they needed him for.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>he has worked at the same job for almost
twenty-four years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He, and they, are
really proud of this fact.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He receives
assistance for transportation to and from work that also enables him to
participate in community activities and church activities.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He leads a really great life, and that life
will be celebrated on National Down Syndrome Day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In our city, Memphis, hundreds of people turn
out to help celebrate these wonderful people who participate in medal winning
sports, own businesses, are employed, and even have their own ballet/dance
company.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They contribute their community
as well as receive…and yes, we celebrate that fact.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our friends line up to eat hot dogs and watch
the events and parade around a stadium to show that support!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The African
Americans who were freed on Juneteenth so very long ago have gone on to have
offspring who have become a reliable and strong labor force, and those who have
been allowed a good education have become professionals like lawyers, doctors, dentists,
and even Supreme Court Justices. They are fulfilling the dreams of those who
long ago didn’t even know for several years that they had been emancipated, and
even after emancipation even today face many hardships that aren’t all their
own fault. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just like being born with Down Syndrome, they
were born with darker skin.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Different on
the outside, but with the same needs as everyone else otherwise.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Let’s
celebrate with them in some way, large or small, and help them continue to be
the same as the rest of us, achieving all they would like to achieve, each
according to his or her abilities.<o:p></o:p></span></p>Janie Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18053546704853403645noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-508545331300613340.post-510097629952892272022-06-18T14:40:00.003-05:002022-06-20T21:30:16.699-05:00<p> </p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">Only Casual Observations<o:p></o:p></span></b></span></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">Flying Free for Molly and Robert</span></b><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">This morning
Robert IV departed home for what seems like the last time. He has accepted a
position with the Department of State in Washington, D. C., leaving the nest
for probably his final flight. Molly is
understandably a bit bereft, to say the least.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Robert is
her firstborn and was almost lost to us to sudden liver failure at age four,
saved and returned to the nest through the bravery of a liver donation of his
Uncle John.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That is another story, but
following that rescue, Robert followed the expected course of the gentlemen in
his family, attending a challenging grade school and more challenging prep
school, and finally graduating from the University of Virginia, and trying his
wings at a job in Wyoming, far from home, but with familiar friends and a few
distant relatives.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Taking a break from
academics allowed him time to whet his mettle with completing in a Triathlon
and learning to supervise those from another country in his kind and friendly
manner.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>During this time, he made more
good friends and really enjoyed the “real world” as he was meant to do.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Most of the
family expected that after this brief adventure he would return home to follow
his father and grandfather in their successful careers in the financial world,
but he had other plans brewing. Robert maintained close ties with friends and
family all along the way, because he loved us all, but he grew more and more
independent, learning to cook and clean for himself, manage his own money
wisely, and make good decisions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Much to
the surprise of much of the family, before he left UVA, Robert had put in some
applications, some of which didn’t pan out because of the physical requirements
which the medications his liver transplant put on him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was required to have access to an immune
suppressing drug, unavailable in many foreign lands, which got him rejected by
the armed forces, the Peace Corps, and probably other organizations that had
high standards for acceptance, including an absolutely perfect health
slate.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Although he was able to do better
than most, probably 99 percent of the people his age physically, he required
the drug for life.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The
Department of State recognized his high level of abilities overall, and the
unlikely possibility of him not being useful because of his health, and after
about four years, they contacted him with a job offer!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Of course he accepted, and this morning’s
departure was the culmination of that long journey to a lifetime career.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">In our
family Facebook discussion his mom, usually very private, spoke of her totally
understandable heartache.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And, as her
mom who has for all her life wanted nothing more than to see her child happy,
offered a feeble attempt to make her feel better.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I hope it helped.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">As I watered
my plants this morning, I mused on a theory I developed as an amateur gardener,
whom my friends think to be successful, but I personally know I only do what I
do best, and learn by observing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What I
have learned from my plants seems to apply to people too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The old adage, “Bloom where you are planted.”
Doesn’t work for either plants or people, in my humble opinion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One that seems to work better, in my opinion
at nearly eighty years old is to, “Plant yourself where you will bloom!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And then after that, replant if necessary. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I have
learned to grow new plants through the years from old ones from the old ones,
saving a few dollars every year.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
winter them over in a nice sunny area of my home, and then by Spring, they are
ready to use around the pool, if I place them just right.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>However, this year, with a lot going on, I
forgot that Geraniums really are not lovers of so much sun, so after a short
stay in the hospital for surgery, I returned home to some crispy leaves on my
carefully tended Geraniums, because I had planted them where I wanted them to
flourish, not where I knew they would do best, in partial shade.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There were several beyond redemption, but
enough good ones that I moved them to a more desirable location and they should
do better.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Perhaps the
sun in Memphis, where Robert had a comfortable niche carved out for him, would
have provided too much sun.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Too many old
friends, not enough new ones.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Too much
family with too many expectations, not enough fertile soil.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For whatever reason, I believe he was wise to
relocate himself, although we will all miss him terribly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He should grow and flourish in Washington,
perhaps find more fertile soil to marry and produce offspring. Or, if not, he
can always transplant himself…and wherever he finds himself, there will always
be an opportunity to visit and refresh himself with loads of the fertilizer of
love and admiration that the rest of us, his grands, his siblings, and his cousins,
and most of all, his wonderful parents have in abundance awaiting him.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Fly free and
happily young Robert, but don’t forget the way back home!<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">With all our
love, Grammy</span><span style="font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>Janie Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18053546704853403645noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-508545331300613340.post-74930409820253831102018-11-10T11:40:00.000-06:002018-11-10T11:40:23.025-06:00Have you Ever Felt Like an Outsider?<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Have you ever felt like an Outsider?”</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZbxLw3ajYLKEJB51IEyeZWiwDbVDvlwUgYs0_yOSArmeNhOAxa0Q5xyD1TqTgp3wuDXW_VmfoJpUOM1uqVQiQcn9s-BLaPIoZDoQFCkrLVAtZgaG9mToyhS7veSWNcvyDv7K3b_ewoOs4/s1600/Rabbi.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="771" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZbxLw3ajYLKEJB51IEyeZWiwDbVDvlwUgYs0_yOSArmeNhOAxa0Q5xyD1TqTgp3wuDXW_VmfoJpUOM1uqVQiQcn9s-BLaPIoZDoQFCkrLVAtZgaG9mToyhS7veSWNcvyDv7K3b_ewoOs4/s320/Rabbi.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Some of you who follow me on Facebook know that Walker is taking
a class at the University of Memphis called Language Learning Lab.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Discovering this class, taught by his very
first speech therapist, Darleen Winters, along with eight graduate assistants,
has been one of the most significant turning points in Walker’s adult
life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Initially, it was simply a chance
to reconnect with some old friends and classmates, and rediscover the love of learning
that had seemed to end with him graduating from all programs offered to those
with cognitive disabilities when he was twenty-one.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In the intervening years, a LOT of things
changed, and now there are many opportunities for adults to experience lifetime
learning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One of my regrets is that
Walker did not have the opportunity to continue his education without
interruption, but maybe those latent years were good for him too, because now,
he is sopping up information like a dry sponge.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He LOVES going to school, and his more mature and experienced mind sees
things in a different way.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The LLL class is centered on reading a book each semester
and discussing and writing and making presentations about what they have read and
learned.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the process, the students
have learned to use “google”, “power point”, and many other modern day
technologies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The graduate students are
their “editors” and work with them in small groups.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This year’s book is <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">The Outsiders</b> by<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>S. E.
Hinton, a book with some mature themes, which some of the parents have had
their doubts about.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Since I’ve never
sheltered my kids from the world, and I trust Ms. Darlene’s judgment, I didn’t
get all worked up about her choice of this book, but just waited and watched to
see how it all worked out.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Last week, I discovered how wise a choice this book truly
was.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just days after the bombing of the
Synagogue in Pittsburgh, Walker and his friend Matthew were scheduled to
interview Memphis’ most prominent Rabbi, Micah Greenstein as part of their
classwork.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Walker has crossed paths with
Rabbi Greenstein through the years when he has spoken at our Episcopal
churches, and Matthew is Jewish and knew him, although he did not attend his Synagogue.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Both
were extremely excited about going together on the interview.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Walker and Matthew have a budding friendship
which began when I invited Matthew to join Special Friends Fellowship Club at an
Alumni dance for Walker’s old school.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“But
I’m Jewish!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>he said.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I told him it didn’t matter that we were
happy to have him if he wanted to come and make new friends.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It turned out he did, and the Special Friends,
many who knew him from school, welcomed him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It turned out that Matthew really, really wanted to be “best” friends
with Walker. Gradually their friendship has grown as Matthew has learned that
Walker can be a good friend, if not necessarily his “best friend”, and they
have bonded.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve been proud of Walker
including Matthew in his group of friends.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The night before the interview, I glanced over the interview
questions…I wasn’t sure who had composed them, but they were good questions,
and I knew the guys would have a good conversation with the Rabbi, and didn’t
think much more about it until after it was all over and I got a note from Rabbi
Greenstein with some very complimentary remarks, which I passed on to
Darlene.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“It really was profound,” she
said.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I had told Walker that the
question, ‘Have you ever felt like an outsider?’ was the most important part,
and he really took it seriously.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Micah
was really affected by it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a
special moment.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Just a few days before this interview I had attended a memorial ceremony at our local Jewish Community Center after seeing an invitation on Facebook for those of all faiths to join in remembering those lost about an hour before it began. I couldn't find anyone to go with me, but I felt strongly that it was important for other faiths to be represented to I rushed our dinner and told big Walker I was going and headed out by myself, something I rarely do. I found my way into the gathering, sat down by a lovely couple and introduced myself. They seemed a little puzzled by my presence, and asked me why I was there. I fumbled for words, and finally said that I felt that an attack on any religion was an attack on all religions. They thanked me for coming. Before the service was over so many people had thanked me for attending that I was overcome. Rabbi Micah was one of the main speakers, and he asked all those of other faiths to stand, and when we did we were warmly applauded, and those around me reached out to touch me or shake my hand. As I left many others did the same, and in one very moving moment a sweet woman teared up and hugged me and said "You have no idea." I probably don't, but I'm beginning to.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Can you imagine how it must have felt for a Jewish rabbi,
one of the most persecuted religions in the history of the world, to be
interviewed by two young men with developmental disabilities, who face
discrimination that they aren’t often even aware of, just days after the
bombing at Pittsburgh?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It chokes me up
to even think about it.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When people wonder about why I am a liberal thinker, and
campaign against discrimination of all kinds…this is why.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When they wonder why I cannot abide those who
publicly espouse hate of “the other”…any “other”…this is why.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One God made us all just the way we were
meant to be.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He made us in all colors,
of all faiths, ethnicities, genders, including mixed up genders and
non-genders, and He loved us all and called us to love all those others, even
the Outsiders, just as much as we love ourselves and the ones who look just
like us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sometimes I feel like an Outsider
just for thinking this way, and it makes me sad.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m working on loving those who don’t think
like I do, because I don’t want them to feel unloved either.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That’s kind of hard, but I’m working on
it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What about you?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Blessings, Janie</div>
Janie Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18053546704853403645noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-508545331300613340.post-52653561510434626952017-12-24T12:31:00.001-06:002017-12-24T12:37:22.714-06:00A Very Special Christmas Eve<div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="41n3f" data-offset-key="b6tv2-0-0" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="b6tv2-0-0" style="direction: ltr; font-family: inherit; position: relative;">
<span data-offset-key="b6tv2-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;">A very special Christmas Eve. For those of you who have asked, I do still write "Walker Stories", but don't post many anymore. I'm hoping to maybe publish some in the near future. Here's one of the oldies that some of you probably haven't seen. </span></div>
</div>
<div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="41n3f" data-offset-key="2tckp-0-0" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="2tckp-0-0" style="direction: ltr; font-family: inherit; position: relative;">
<span data-offset-key="2tckp-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;">Walker spends a great deal of time in his room or playroom with his assortment of stuff, and as I have come to realize in recent years, sometimes plans surprises for us all. </span></div>
</div>
<div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="41n3f" data-offset-key="9cppo-0-0" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="9cppo-0-0" style="direction: ltr; font-family: inherit; position: relative;">
<span data-offset-key="9cppo-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;">After Molly and Robert were married some of our traditional holiday customs had to be adjusted to accommodate the young couple’s desires to share the holidays with both of their families. It was agreed that our main Christmas meal would be on Christmas Eve, and I decided to invite Robert’s parents to join us. It was an opportunity for a new tradition, and we were all looking forward to it, but I was a little nervous about expanding our family to include the Gooches. Walker, however, was thrilled. He had enjoyed Robert’s parents, and especially his brother, Perry, during the wedding festivities, and the idea of having them with us made it like a party. </span></div>
</div>
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<span data-offset-key="7uloi-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;">As I was making last minute preparations for the dinner, Walker came into the kitchen and asked me if he could say the blessing. This was a privilege he usually declines, probably because he is a little apprehensive about forgetting the words to the memorized blessings that his sisters have used through the years, so I was surprised, but readily gave him permission. I set up the buffet and everyone gathered in the dining room. As we bowed our heads, Walker began cleared his throat nervously and began to recite,...”T’was the night before Christmas and all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse. The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, in hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there. The children were nestled all snug in their beds....”</span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="4f4sv-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;">I panicked, caught between being impressed with the time and effort it must have taken him to memorize the long poem and being uncomfortable with all of us standing there with our heads bowed in prayer as he recited it. The girls were stifling giggles, but Molly’s new in-laws acted as if this sort of blessing were the most natural thing in the world on Christmas Eve. Walker continued, “On Dasher, on Prancer, on Comet and Blixen...” </span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="8kmp0-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;">Finally, he began to stumble over the words to a difficult portion of the poem, and I suggested to him that maybe we should go ahead and eat our dinner before the food got cold. I assured him that he could finish the poem after dinner. He shrugged his agreement and we proceeded with the meal.</span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="83fem-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;">When dinner was done, Walker asked to be excused while we ate dessert. A few minutes later, I heard him clear his throat, and looked up and saw him sitting on the stairs with his “Night Before Christmas “ book. As we enjoyed the last of the wine with our dessert, Walker read the poem to us. </span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="auc61-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;">I don’t know whether using “The Night Before Christmas” will ever catch on as a blessing, but Walker’s well rehearsed version was a blessing to all of us that Christmas Eve. </span></div>
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Janie Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18053546704853403645noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-508545331300613340.post-78769535664034783602017-05-13T23:31:00.000-05:002017-05-13T23:31:30.945-05:00Mama on Mother's Day<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I know it's a Hallmark Holiday, and I've already posted a nice piece that someone else wrote about what I really want from my family which is more of the most precious commodity they possess...their time. How presumptuous of me! I remember those days when I felt like I was being pulled from every direction...children, friends, husband, community and perhaps a job, church...and the last person I needed needing me was my mother! Anyway, how can I not think of Mama on Mother's Day????<br />
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<br />
I have some letters I wrote to her through the years that she had saved, and almost invariably they begin with an apology for not writing more, not visiting more, not calling more. There were times when she called me so often that I dreaded hearing her say, "Haven't heard from you lately." because of the guilt it stirred up. But through the years, late in the afternoon, after five when the rates went down, and I'd put one of my ubiquitous casseroles in to cook and had a little time on my hands, I'd pick up the phone and call her. I knew she'd be thrilled....she always seemed to be. I know I am when one of my girls call and the rates are cheap all the time!<br />
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<br />
She never scolded me particularly for not being more attentive, and after a few days visit from our rather large brood of children, I have a feeling she was pretty happy to settle back into peace and quiet and a couple of phone calls a week. What I think she really would have treasured was some of my undivided attention, something I seldom found time to give her. I found that time in the last weeks of her life. At the end, I made her custard she had no taste for and did her laundry and took her to the oncologist who admitted her to the hospital, never to return to the little patio home she was so proud of. I went back there and climbed up in the ugly blue velour recliner and rocked myself and cried because I realized that the time to give her what she wanted was over.<br />
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<br />
Today I went out to see if I had gardenias from her...it's just about time and Mama seldom disappointed me...and sure enough, there were exactly three blooms. One each for me, my brother and my sister. There will be many more later on, but for Mother's Day, she sent me three. If she were still here, she would get dressed up in a nice suit and pantyhose and low heeled shoes and pin a white rose on her bosom in remembrance of her mother, our Mamo, and go to church. She would expect us to wear a red or pink one on our shoulder in honor of her. I'm certain no suits or pantyhose will be involved for me or my siblings or my children tomorrow, and church may or not be, and my rose will be white if I wear one, but all of us will remember Mama if we get a whiff of a gardenia in the next few weeks.<br />
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Blessings,<br />
JanieJanie Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18053546704853403645noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-508545331300613340.post-70810078829107465182016-12-28T10:30:00.000-06:002016-12-28T10:40:22.386-06:00The Year in Review 2016<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">The kind folks at Facebook suggested I repost something I
wrote last year titled The Christmas Letter, and I re-read it, and it did
remind me of the value of looking back over the past year and recording it in a
somewhat more permanent way than my Facebook posts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In that post I commented about not enclosing
a summary of our family activities with our Christmas card anymore, and I guess
I probably assume that most of the people who care about us stay in touch
through Facebook, but that’s not really true.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>And, that lovely Christmas album is still sitting in the armoire
awaiting my getting “a round tuit” and filling it with the history of our
family Christmases…so here’s this year’s update.</span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">The Christmas Letter 2016</span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">For some reason 2016 seems to have flown by faster than
ever.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No major surgeries for anyone,
although both Walker and I have had some really annoying lingering coughs which reminded us that we don’t throw
things off quite so easily at our age.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Otherwise, we’re all pretty happy and healthy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Our most significant adventure was our trip to Israel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ten days of “forced marching” in the Holy Land
is an amazing experience.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Highlights
were staying in a guest house above first century “cave homes” where Jesus
probably played and visited, and possibly lived, visiting the Al Aqsa Mosque—only
the second group of Christians allowed inside (after being draped in
appropriate garb), and a day at Masada on our own.</span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Most of the grandkids are tweens or teens, except for Beau
and Emmett who remind us of the pleasures of having little ones around when
they visit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Emmett adores being with his
cousins, and manages to keep up with the big guys amazingly well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Beau is a ray of sunshine punctuated by
intermittent thunder storms.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She’s a
real chatterbox, sings all the time, and is the best eater of the bunch.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We have to stock up on avocados and eggs and beans
and rice when she visits.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The kids enjoy
each other, and we take great joy in seeing them make music together.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They performed and recorded a special song
for our 50<sup><span style="font-size: x-small;">th</span></sup> wedding anniversary that brought tears to our eyes
under Molly and Katie’s direction.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sarah
and her kids flew in and surprised us for that momentous occasion, making it
just perfect!</span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Walker’s hobby farm yielded about 125 pounds of pecans this
year, meaning lots of roasted pecans for gifts and lots for cooking.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The freezer is stuffed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The most fun was the day in Arkansas at the “Indian
Museum” and pecan picking with the whole family over Thanksgiving.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The older kids drove the four wheeler for the
first time, and I even picked up my share. He's had a decent number of quail covey's since the weather got cooler too and loves it when he and the dogs can find them with guests.</span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">The most significant achievement of the year was the
founding of Special Friends Fellowship Club, a project of the Diocese of West
Tennessee.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was Janie’s idea, prompted
by seeing the work done by other denominations, and a nudge by a voice in the
middle of the night asking, “Why aren’t you doing something with your own
church?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A letter to some clergy
resulted in the trial run over the summer, and it went so well that the program
was extended into the school year.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We
have twenty special needs adults on roll, and the whole family has helped out
through their churches.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Walker III is
thrilled…it’s almost as good as Young Life, and he loves helping with the
planning and setting up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Big Walker is
the muscle of the program, turning Janie’s nutty ideas into reality whether it
be hanging a mirrored ball from the ceiling or hauling a hay ride around the
church property…he’s always agreeable.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We have all been blessed by new friends from the diocese and these wonderful young adults and their sweet faith.</span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">It was a hard year in some ways, some dear friends left us
and others are fighting illnesses.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We
are not happy with the result of the election, and are anxious for our country,
but we have seen a lot of changes through the years, and we’ve weathered them
all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We carry on, knowing we will make
it through whatever comes our way in the coming year too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Seeing our grandchildren and their friends
turning into such fine young people gives us such hope for the future, and
maintaining friendships through it all is what it’s all about.</span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Happy New Year and Blessings to all,</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Janie</span></div>
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Janie Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18053546704853403645noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-508545331300613340.post-53386013394861591932016-10-30T17:19:00.000-05:002016-10-30T17:25:52.166-05:00Long Time no WriteI was messaging with someone today and mentioned my Blog and started thinking about how long it had been since I had written anything...since Mother's Day...WOW! It's not that I haven't had anything to say; those of you who actually know me, know that I always have plenty to say, but I'll have to admit that the past six months have actually stifled me considerably....and that's not a situation I find my self comfortable with.<br />
<br /><br />
Ordinarily, in the midst of a political season, I think I'd have plenty to say, and I think a good many of my friends would be on the same page as I am....but this year is different. (Actually it started changing in 2008 when my youngest daughter convinced me to vote for Obama, which I'm proud to say I am happy I did.) Even my husband and I aren't on the same page this year, and I'm not even sure what two of my daughters think because we all seem to have some sort of unwritten agreement not to stir up trouble now that things have really become ugly. Most of my Mah Jongg group think I am at the very least a Socialist, possibly a Communist, and they don't hesitate to tell me that I've been "drinking the Kool Aid". I'm to polite to say what I think of them being able to watch the news at all and come to the conclusions they have.<br />
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I post the most well-thought articles supporting my beliefs on Facebook, and the comments range from my few friends who love them to some pretty ugly stuff from those who disagree. The last month or so those comments did become a bit more tempered, and the consensus leaned toward " well both candidates are awful, but the country will be doomed if the Democrats get to appoint all those Supreme Court justices, so we'll take our chances with Trump." So I stifle myself for the most part...or as much as I'm capable of...but I wake up every morning with this deep dread in the pit of my stomach, and I wonder whether I'm failing in some way by not trying harder to influence others.<br />
<br /><br />
But, I don't think influencing others is actually possible this year....at least I've had no luck at it. We aren't listening to each other much, and I honestly think we don't really respect the other side very much anymore. And, so in a little over a week it should be over, and I hope it will all be like a bad dream and we'll all go back to taking care of our families and playing Mah Jongg or Bridge or golf or tennis, or go to the office and talk about football or basketball, or the holiday movies and which ones might be Oscar candidates. Maybe life will be sane again and we will all be friendly and comfortable with each other....maybe.<br />
<br /><br />
Blessings,<br />
<br /><br />
JanieJanie Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18053546704853403645noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-508545331300613340.post-46483005525906433102016-05-08T18:12:00.000-05:002016-05-08T18:12:22.953-05:00Another Mother's DayI read back over my old posts about Mother's Day, and once again find that this pseudo holiday has a strange tug on my heart. I saw a number of posts by folks who were missing their mothers this day, as I definitely miss mine. Even some of the older ladies I used to be in contact with who became mother substitutes for me are gone now. I realize that I AM one of the older ladies. <br />
<br />
I fear this not going to be one of my chipper posts where I find the happy side to share with you...I'm just not finding the words for that kind of post tonight. Maybe some of you feel the same way.<br />
<br />
The gardenias are budding, but not blooming yet this year. The last couple of years they were hit hard by late winter freezes, but I see in them hope for a sweet reminder of Mama in the not too distant future. My girls showered me with thoughtful remembrances and words and Katie prepared a lovely luncheon for me and her mother in law. It was a beautiful day, and I have so much to be thankful for. <br />
<br />
All of us are in relatively good health; the children are thriving and happy; we have enough of everything we could possibly need and most of what we want. We splurged recently and travelled to Israel, a trip of a lifetime that I never really expected to be able to make. One of the best things about the trip was seeing that things at home went just fine without me. My girls and Walker's driver made sure that he had everything he needed (after I made sure that some of his favorite meals were in the freezer) and all went so smoothly that I wondered why I'd been so hesitant to go in the first place.<br />
<br />
The joy on Walker's face and in the fierce hugs he gave me when I got home, however, reminded me that he might not need to have me here all the time, but he certainly does like it when I come back. One of these days, though, I'm going to travel to a place I can't return from, and it really makes me sad to think that the empty feeling I have on Mother's Day when I think about my mama will settle over my own children too, especially Walker.<br />
<br />
Walker grieves loss more deeply than I ever imagined. His memory is so acute for every incident in the past that he carries his grief in an active phase much longer than most of us do. I don't think there's any "cure" for this trait...it's just the way he is, but sometimes, like when there's a death, even the death of a pet, his grief breaks my heart. If I'm still feeling sad on Mother's Day fifteen years after my mother's death, how is he going to cope when I'm gone?<br />
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Maybe my fears are unfounded. My girls came through when I was gone to Israel, and they will probably come through again....I hope so.<br />
<br />
Blessings<br />
JanieJanie Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18053546704853403645noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-508545331300613340.post-16944401918417756832016-03-21T13:06:00.000-05:002018-03-21T15:18:58.227-05:00Mixed Up Blessings<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitl9ZJTD-JC9x9OFLQjAQ3YI_jHgzq5a3fRToFE4rKZlGEyxf6hvlgMYGOZejB7dFZqQA7EYt6O20rzsFsOHk0DrXH8xcvV-OIYHv1xP3nyDkRZ9ftUBQQBnOQa_n_un3vKKzvJF4tvztY/s1600/1977+Dad+and+Walker+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitl9ZJTD-JC9x9OFLQjAQ3YI_jHgzq5a3fRToFE4rKZlGEyxf6hvlgMYGOZejB7dFZqQA7EYt6O20rzsFsOHk0DrXH8xcvV-OIYHv1xP3nyDkRZ9ftUBQQBnOQa_n_un3vKKzvJF4tvztY/s200/1977+Dad+and+Walker+%25282%2529.jpg" width="133" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Walker age 2 with his Dad</td></tr>
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I was reminded yesterday by the ever so helpful folks on Facebook that today is Worldwide Down Syndrome Day, so named because 3/21 symbolizes that folks with DS have three copies of the 21st chromosome, causing all the things about them that make them unique.<br />
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Well, my guy with DS is certainly that, and as I think back over forty years of life with Walker, I am so amazed at where we were then and where we are now. I've come so far from, "I don't know how to do this, and I really don't want to know how." to...hey, "Look what we've done!" <br />
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A long time ago, when I first announced to our friends and family that Walker had Down Syndrome, I sent a note along with the birth announcements saying that we at long last had been blessed with a son, but that ours was a mixed blessing. Eventually, I tweaked that phrase into what will eventually be the title of my "Walker Stories"...."Mixed Up Blessings". Because that's exactly what Walker has been to us. He has taught us to celebrate whatever comes along, because almost anything can turn out to be a blessing if you just look hard enough.<br />
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So, We'll celebrate this day along with others who have learned the same lesson, and I'll thank all of you who walk this path along with me and love my guy as much as I do.<br />
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Blessings, <br />
Janie<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rocking out at Heartsong Church on a lovely gift from a church member</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Technology for Sarah for Christmas</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Associate of the Year 2015 with Molly and Owen Gooch and Katie Monaghan</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">God Bless the USA!<br />
<br />
Walker and His Girlfriend, Caroline...pure JOY!<br />
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Janie Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18053546704853403645noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-508545331300613340.post-36395193439148690422016-02-29T10:04:00.000-06:002016-02-29T10:04:27.155-06:00Leaning ForwardWalker sat in on his ISP planning session this year, and actually tuned in to see what we were discussing, and surprise, surprise...he had something to say about what he'd like to accomplish. There is a new format which I don't completely understand, and the state worker didn't exactly explain, but it involved setting goals based on the client's "dreams". Up till this point, I had kind of assumed Walker's dreams were where he would find the next snow globe for his collection or where he and his PA would eat lunch next week, so I threw out that maybe he'd like to someday take a trip with some friends. Much discussion ensued about the steps that would lead up to that happening, but she wrote some things down, and I kind of forgot about it. Walker did not.<br />
<br />
A couple of days later, he came in while I was watching the news and asked me to pause the TV.. "Um...you know how that lady talked about a trip?" I kind of scratched my head a minute, and then remembered the ISP, and told him I did. "Well, you know those cruises we see on Wheel of Fortune, the one to Italy? That's what I'd like to do."<br />
<br />
Wow...from not wanting to go anywhere too loud or more than a short drive from home...this was a huge leap.<br />
<br />
Walker has been attending a class at the University of Memphis for about a year. It's basically an enrichment class that's part of the Speech and Hearing Department, and he absolutely loves "going to college." He has become devoted to his new University, proudly wearing a Memphis Tiger's tee every time he goes to class, preparing carefully for 'presentations' with his 'editor' and learning about things he never really thought about. I think it's the happiest he's been in years. He asked to attend a football game this year, something he'd never shown any interest in whatsoever, and yesterday, he asked his dad to take him to a basketball game, something really, really outside his comfort zone because of the noise. "Just not too high up, though," was his only request. I don't know who was happier, him or his dad, who struggles to find anything in common with Walker, who usually prefers to go to a play or the ballet with me to shooting guns or watching sports with his dad.<br />
<br />
I think up until Walker got his cell phone and started expressing himself more publicly on Facebook, I really didn't realize that I had assumed too much in thinking that his job and our family life was enough for him. The past few years with young college students as his attendants has opened up a whole new world for him, and I realized that I had become a bit lazy. Just because he disappeared upstairs after dinner every night, I assumed all was well with him. <br />
<br />
For many years, he had watched videos of his choice or sorted through his Polaroid pictures or whatever he wanted to do after dinner in complete solitude, and I thought all was well. That first iPhone and his brother in law and niece and nephews teaching him how to use Facebook opened up a world to him that he had never imagined. When his cat disappeared, he posted about it and people offered sympathy, when he was suddenly "graduated" from Young Life, he wrote on and on about that loss (and still does). I realized that I needed to get busy again and set up his life with more stimulating activities. It was a little hard in the beginning, but now he has a pretty full schedule most weekends going to dances and special events, and his favorite a Friday morning Breakfast Bible Study at a nearby church. I don't think he's ever been happier.<br />
<br />
I'm glad Walker has found his voice, even if it surprises me sometimes. Maybe he will someday get to take that cruise to Italy...Heck, he might even win it on Wheel of Fortune....he's an amazing player!<br />
<br />
Blessings,<br />
JanieJanie Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18053546704853403645noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-508545331300613340.post-16048002681575951282015-12-25T16:31:00.001-06:002015-12-25T16:31:18.036-06:00Turning Christmas Right Side UpIt's been an odd Christmas Day...just out of sync. Not all that bad, but different. Sarah won't arrive for her Holiday visit until late tonight, so we've postponed our main celebration until tomorrow evening when everyone can be together. The rest of us had a simpler, and delicious meal, cooked by my other daughters last night, but the presents are still wrapped, we had leftovers or your choice for lunch. The rest of the family went to various church services last night, and the Walkers and I went to a less glorious service this morning. The turkey is still thawing, the rolls are still rising, I just made the dessert and reset the table from last night's supper. Nothing has seemed quite right, but just okay.<br />
<br />
This afternoon I sat down to thumb through Facebook and look at other people's celebrations and saw the Walker III had been busy upstairs on "my google", and had posted a picture of what was probably his best Christmas gift of all. It was about twenty years ago, and at the time he was totally obsessed with "Home Alone" and "Home Alone II", two holiday movies that appealed to his developing sense of humor and adventure. All he, and virtually every other boy in America, wanted for Christmas that year was a TalkBoy..a tape recording device that the kid in the movie used to fool the crooks. It was essentially impossible to buy that particular toy by the time Walker requested one.<br />
<br />
I haunted Walmart daily. I went in so often that one of the clerks finally took pity on me and agreed to call me when the next shipment came in, and I scored one on December 23. I thought I was Santa Claus...or the lady at Walmart was. I couldn't wait for Christmas morning, but when Walker saw the device a strange look came over his face. "It's not the right one."<br />
<br />
"What! It's the only one...of course it's the right one!"<br />
<br />
"Nope...see...this writing is different." And he proceeded to get the video out and freeze the frame, and sure enough, there was a slight difference. Somehow I managed to convince him it that it was that one or nothing, and Christmas was not a total disaster. He enjoyed many years of playing tricks on us with the TalkBoy. His speech teacher even found ways to use it to improve his speaking ability.<br />
<br />
The original TalkBoy bit the dirt, and I moved heaven and earth to find a replacement a few years later. I think that one probably died in a garage sale. It would retail for about $400 today.<br />
<br />
I kind of like that on this topsy turvy Christmas Walker is thinking back to that happy time in his life and that now he knows how to use Google and Facebook to find pictures and post them. Let's just hope he doesn't ever discover Ebay and try to buy one. <br />
<br />
Aw....<br />
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What the heck...if he does, that just makes him a collector, doesn't it?<br />
<br />
Now I'll get back to finishing up tomorrow night's Christmas Dinner, Sarah and family will arrive in a few hours, all the others will gather tomorrow afternoon, and all will be right again....just like Walker and I like it.<br />
<br />
Blessings,<br />
JanieJanie Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18053546704853403645noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-508545331300613340.post-85848372637840935792015-11-29T11:50:00.000-06:002015-11-29T11:50:50.829-06:00What's Not to be Thankful For?Note: I am beginning a new blog titled Only Thankful Observations today. It will be written a bit more regularly than this one, every Sunday evening, and will be more of a personal gratitude journal. You are welcome to subscribe to it and follow along, and I'd love it if some of you would add your own summation of what you are grateful for in the previous week in the "Comments" section. I won't be posting notifications of that blog on Facebook, however. You can find it by just googling Only Thankful Observations, then click to be notified by e-mail when there's a new post.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">It's Thanksgiving weekend, and a somewhat dreary one at that. I look out the door outside my office into the back yard which is ablaze with color and I see the little courtyard with the stepping stones representing a project done by most of my grandchildren, mostly to humor me, but with good cheer nonetheless. The trees down the hill are ablaze with gold and red while out in another part of the yard, I still have some lovely blooming plants still chugging along in spite of cooler nights.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">We have just returned from a wonderful trip to Sewanee, Tennessee where our gracious in-laws shared "their" Thanksgiving year with our mutual grandchildren with us. They didn't have to do this. When Molly laid down the rules for sharing the holidays twenty years ago when she got married, they didn't allow for the fact that our family would one day include seven grandchildren and one of them would have a short Thanksgiving holiday home from college, and that if his other grandparents got to enjoy their usual Thanksgiving at their second home in Sewanee...we wouldn't see him at all! But, they are wonderful in-laws, and they included us, and for that I am truly thankful. I wouldn't take anything for the time around a bonfire with a full moon above us or a rousing game of Scrabble and the little ones acting out Charades and finally a quiet breakfast where Robert shared a little more about his college life with us before we headed home.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Walker III didn't feel all that great, but I'm so thankful that he has learned to speak up when he needs allergy medicine and soldier on in spite of not being 100%. He was a real trooper.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Most of all I'm thankful today for the man I married almost fifty years ago. He seldom complains, although I ask an awful lot of him sometimes. Yesterday was one of those times. Since we have a short window and a lot going on between now and Christmas, I asked if we could go ahead and get the Christmas tree up. (We gave into an artificial tree years ago because of the allergies mentioned above.) It was a dreary day, and the Auburn-Alabama game didn't start until mid afternoon, so he really didn't have much of a reason to say no, so we called a helper, and managed to get the tree assembled and eat a bite of lunch with just enough time left for him to make a quick run to the grocery before the game. He is a saint about that kind of thing. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> Well, the quick run ended up taking a lot longer than he had counted on, AND he had failed to check to make sure the game was going to record. I had gotten restless, and turned it on about ten minutes into the first quarter and started the recording, but his much loved sighting of the eagle flying down at kickoff was not captured.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">He never uttered a peep. I felt terrible because all the things I had on my list were done, and his big day was spoiled...and he never uttered a peep.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Yes, he's a saint and much better than I deserve. I'll bake some of his favorite oatmeal cookies this afternoon and feel a little better about what happened, and he probably won't utter a peep about them either, but I'll feel a little less guilty, and from now on, he will see that eagle fly!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Blessings,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Janie</span><br />
<h2>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span> </h2>
Janie Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18053546704853403645noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-508545331300613340.post-29136676007798082722015-11-04T15:04:00.002-06:002015-11-04T15:11:03.522-06:00The Bad Seed and Walker
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One of the most difficult jobs in our family is running
interference for <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Walker</st1:place></st1:city>
at work from time to time. If there is a pay problem or schedule problem or a
personnel problem, I generally turn it over to his dad and his more laid back
nature. A while back, we got a call from <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Walker</st1:place></st1:city>'s
boss that they were going to send him home because he had been rude to a
customer, had called her a name. I sent Big Walker to deal with it, because I
was afraid I'd get either angry or emotional if they fired him, and this sounded
pretty serious. While I stayed home and worried myself sick, <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Walker</st1:place></st1:city> handled the whole incident calmly, and
they let Little Walker finish the work day after all, much to my relief.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
By the time they got home after work, I had calmed down
enough to ask the magic questions and figure out what had happened, one thing
I'm much better at doing. </div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
Something just didn't add up. <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Walker</st1:place></st1:city> gave up curse words many, many years
ago after a mouthful of our favorite cursing remedy, a drop of Ivory Liquid on
the tongue. About the worst thing he ever called anyone was when he announced
that Sister Judy was a pig when he was about five years old. He might get
angry, and he had even fired his boss a couple of times when he was unhappy,
but cursing just wasn't in his repertoire </div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
Even my son-in-law, John, who has initiated <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Walker</st1:place></st1:city> into the kind of guy repartee that he
never learned at <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placename w:st="on">Catholic</st1:placename>
<st1:placetype w:st="on">School</st1:placetype></st1:place>, had never
aggravated him enough to get him to curse. He just doesn't do that. Not that he
doesn't occasionally hear an expletive from his dad or me, but he knows better
than to use one. Or so I thought.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
Now he had called a customer a bitch. He had apologized,
somewhat under duress, and wasn't going to lose his job, but I couldn't let it
rest.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
"<st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Walker</st1:place></st1:city>,
could you just tell me exactly what happened today at work," I asked as he
sat uncomfortably on the couch, shifting around and avoiding eye-contact.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
"Well, this is really embarrassing...." Long
pause.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
"That's okay. You're not going to get in trouble. I
just need to know what happened. Did you call a customer a name?" Another
very long pause. He knew I knew.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
"Well, yeah, I'm really sorry...I did...but she was
really rude to me...I just can't tell you..." Tears welled up in his eyes.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
"It's okay. Just tell me what you called her."
Tears welled in my eyes too.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
"Well...I called her a Bad Seed...She really was...She
said she wanted paper instead of plastic, and I didn't hear her, and when I
started loading plastic she yelled at me so I called her a Bad Seed. I promise
it won't happen again. I know I might lose my job."</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
Now this made sense in Walkerese...almost. He talks in movie
talk a lot, but most of the movies are Disney and at the most PG rated. I was
kind of bewildered that he might have seen "The Bad Seed", a movie
about a wicked little girl that came out in the '50's and one that I didn't
remember from his shelf last time I had cleaned and sorted out. Turns out,
there was a reference to the old movie in one of his newer favorites.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
The customer, the cashier and his boss had heard what they
expected, and probably knew deep down. They heard him call her a bitch, when he
really called her a Bad Seed.</div>
<br />
After some lecturing about the customer always being right,
the matter was put to rest. In my heart, I knew who the Bad Seed was, though. I
think <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Walker</st1:place></st1:city>'s
boss did too.<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
I hope I'm not a Bad Seed too often. I hope people hear what
I really mean to say, and not what they think I say.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
Blessings,</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
Janie</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
Janie Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18053546704853403645noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-508545331300613340.post-61707244790431212602014-12-28T14:01:00.000-06:002014-12-28T14:02:49.350-06:00The Christmas Letter
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I’ve had a lot of things knocking around in
my head this morning that led me to the conclusion that I shouldn’t let my last
post be the final one of the year.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">What got it all started was an article in
the New York Times about divorce being the last taboo on Facebook. <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2014/12/28/fashion/facebook-last-taboo-the-unhappy-marriage.html?_r=0">http://www.nytimes.com/2014/12/28/fashion/facebook-last-taboo-the-unhappy-marriage.html?_r=0</a></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now
I’m definitely not contemplating divorce, but in that last post I did do
something that nice girls usually don’t do, I aired a bit of dirty linen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My husband and I occasionally have a
spat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mind you, they are not nearly as frequent
as they were when we were younger and there were a lot more stressors, but
sometimes, just sometimes, we get on each other’s nerves and one or the other
of us blows up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The package wrapping
incident was one of those, and one that probably didn’t deserve as much ink as
it got…and is still getting…but for some reason sometimes something is just all
it takes to cause a blow up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A stupid
piece of tape was that something that particular day.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">But, as we were riding to church today, I
was thinking about what a really great year we’ve had, and feeling all happy
about virtually every month of the year, and it dawned on me…actually during
the service…mea culpa…that I don’t send those year-end Christmas letters out
with our cards anymore. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">During the holidays I’ve been sorting
through all our Christmases past in preparing a scrapbook, and have really enjoyed
looking at all the cards and letters and group photos of us in various stages
of posed perfection and candid imperfection during the Christmases beginning
with our first one together in 1966. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Somewhere
along the way, as our card list got longer, I started sending out summaries of
the year that I had copied at Kinkos rather than hand-writing notes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then I began seeing letters to Ann Landers
and Dear Abby ridiculing the practice and at some point, probably after my
daughters were old enough to be sending their own cards, I quit writing them.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Those letters were always a sanitized
version of our life…much like the posts on Facebook.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The darker stuff remained in the shadows, but
the kids accomplishments, and a few of our own, were fun to share, and I tried
to make them funny and clever, but I’m sure they made some friends want to gag…I’m
sure we seemed way more perfect than we actually were.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">We only get one Christmas letter every year
that seems to approximate reality, and the guy that writes it may or may not be
trying to be humorous, but if his kids are unemployed or struggling with
demons, he mentions that along with the good news.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He’s a brave soul…</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">What I missed this year was that in not
compiling that letter, I had lost sight of the fact of just how wonderful the
year really was. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I got to be with Sarah and Ned for the
birth of Baby Beau…our seventh and last grandchild, and a long awaited second granddaughter
to boot!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had some precious time spent with Molly and
her family at Groton while Robert was not well and needed family nearby.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had a fabulous trip of a lifetime to New
York City with Katie and Becket.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I got
to see Walker III discover the joy of communicating over the internet with his
new iphone and Facebook account... I honestly never knew he had so much to
say!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We had time to spend having fun
with out of town friends at football games and at the beach and at the
lake.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had the pleasure of teaching
about forty women to play Mah Jongg, giving them a new set of skills and a new
set of friends in the process.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I learned
to operate in a recording studio and take great delight in reading on the radio
once a week and recording novels in between time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Walker got to see the fruits of his efforts
in quail habitat restoration yield more coveys of quail.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our home garden was a bit of a bust due to
weather issues, but you know what, the Farmer’s Market had plenty for
everyone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a very good year, and I
needed to write about it to appreciate just how good it was. Writing seems to be what I do...</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Blessings, </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Lucida Sans Unicode","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Janie<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
Janie Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18053546704853403645noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-508545331300613340.post-26450646340334270272014-12-18T13:27:00.002-06:002014-12-18T13:29:26.728-06:00An Imperfect Christmas<br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Strangely enough today started off really well. I woke up
ready to finish up some wrapping that needed to be done to get last
minute packages in the mail.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was
feeling pretty good about all the holiday preparations.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had gotten the house decorated, at least as
decorated as it needed to be, early enough to schedule three small gatherings
with friends.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had had time to make
some of my favorite recipes and then to enjoy those events with people I really
love, even if family meals were rather strange on those days.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yesterday some last minute shopping both on
line and in person had finally filled in some blank spots on my gift list, and
I had the whole day today to wrap and tidy up before going to hear three of my
grandsons in their Christmas program tonight, one of my absolute favorite
events every Christmas season.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I wrapped away and got my husband to scour the attic for
boxes for mailing, and then printed out address labels which I’d been wise
enough to store on my computer through the years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was feeling pretty good about myself.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Then the Grinch crept into the breakfast room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“You know you should print these with a bold
font to make it easier to read.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Mmmm Hmmm.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“And if you wouldn’t skip a line between each line on the
address, I’d only need one piece of tape to stick them on the package.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Just two sentences, and then I lost it. “So what if it
takes two pieces of tape!!!!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m sick of
you finding fault with me!”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">As I noted in an entry a while back, I discovered that I
wasn’t perfect way back in 1948 when the photo of the Christmas pageant arrived
and I realized that my hands were crooked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> (See picture below.)
</span>This alarming fact distressed me mightily then, and actually I got some
pretty severe corrections to my imperfections throughout my life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My hair wasn’t curly like Shirley Temples, so
I endured Tonettes to fix that problem, beginning at age two.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I made some “B’s” on my report card, and actually some “U’s” (in conduct…always
my most difficult subject!)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One of those
was in Kindergarten, and the note said that it was because I sat on my foot
instead of with both feet on the floor like a proper child.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It wasn’t until I was in second grade and
Mrs. Williams noticed that my feet didn’t TOUCH the floor and made a cigar box
to go under my desk that that little problem got fixed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">A lot of my imperfections never got fixed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I always had so much to say that I couldn’t
wait my turn.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was more prone to go off
alone and read a book than to socialize with playmates at times.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn’t have a “sweet disposition”….something
highly prized by the adults in my world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I just couldn’t do too much about that…I spoke out when I shouldn’t
about things I had opinions about.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
still do, and it annoys some people, and often embarrasses my family and sometimes even me.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">After seventy years, I’ve pretty well made peace with my
imperfection.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m so sorry when I say
something that I shouldn’t and causes someone pain…I truly never mean to be
cruel…I just have an innate inability to lie very well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But other than that, I’m okay with my
imperfections.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In general I think
imperfect things are a bit more interesting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I like the Impressionists way better than painters whose works look more
like a photo.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I like designers who do
unlikely combinations….I finally kind of like ME!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">So why do I still react to the people in my life who are
trying to fix my imperfections?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m not
exactly sure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know from some of my
studies that their comments are usually perceived immediately as criticism, and
not the helpful kind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Their comments
seem to me to ignore all the things I’ve actually done right, and zero in on the ones
I’ve missed. I feel like I should be able to say to myself, “So what?” and just
move on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And most of the time I do, but
today I didn’t.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Today I had done so many
things right that going back and correcting the one or two I hadn’t was just
too much.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I’ll calm down by this evening and I’ll be swept away by the
sound of several hundred little boys singing Christmas Carols.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> I'll probably apologize for my outburst. </span>Tomorrow will be a better day. I’d be
willing to bet I won’t be perfect tomorrow either, but I'll be pretty good, and that's okay with me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To my knowledge the only perfect human was
born in a stable a long time ago, and even he got cranky once or twice.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Blessings,</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"> Janie</span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBtq15wri9t7N1LoMnMnmFRVBNevz_xt1gMjliJxbffRs-6F2lsWq2tTBM3AL6vCrOR7yFBX_1P5e0ANppRanpl_SlbYriWpWQAH5upiwkI6q0Ib7O0Wtd008g8ZM17yz5MhODLi6Bwq_W/s1600/Christmas+Pageant+Church+of+the+Ascension+c1948.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBtq15wri9t7N1LoMnMnmFRVBNevz_xt1gMjliJxbffRs-6F2lsWq2tTBM3AL6vCrOR7yFBX_1P5e0ANppRanpl_SlbYriWpWQAH5upiwkI6q0Ib7O0Wtd008g8ZM17yz5MhODLi6Bwq_W/s1600/Christmas+Pageant+Church+of+the+Ascension+c1948.jpg" height="256" width="320" /></a></span></div>
<br /></div>
Janie Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18053546704853403645noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-508545331300613340.post-642376789237851582014-08-28T11:51:00.001-05:002014-08-28T15:39:50.281-05:00Thirty-Nine Forever?<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Thirty-Nine Forever?</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi98_UEHhGxV1OvNSUtHgkMvy2sfzEpzhFVBRkXUw9E3-0OqywdqnMiqwvhWJt_JEOXDIXsdepAn4MkRdZCYwPBMhut_lr_ipUJnnCijB6BxSJWxnlbfXmndeym4lZ31KxSlJM28ZDzTnaA/s1600/cake.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi98_UEHhGxV1OvNSUtHgkMvy2sfzEpzhFVBRkXUw9E3-0OqywdqnMiqwvhWJt_JEOXDIXsdepAn4MkRdZCYwPBMhut_lr_ipUJnnCijB6BxSJWxnlbfXmndeym4lZ31KxSlJM28ZDzTnaA/s1600/cake.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></span></div>
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Walker had a birthday this week…a fact he begins reminding everyone he comes in contact with about a month ahead of time, which is kind of strange, because his material wants are so few, but that’s not really the point for him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s his big day, and it’s anticipated with glee for quite some time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He had specific ideas about his cake (lemon with a rainbow) and got lots of gift cards, his preferred gift, conserving his cash, and invited his best friend Caroline over for a swim and dinner with the family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was a happy man.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">This has been quite a year for Walker in terms of growing up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His speech therapist has been working on improving his communication skills for about ten years now, and it’s still a struggle for him to give simple, straightforward answers to simple questions like, “What kind of ice cream do you want?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The answer is likely to be clever, but in the form of a riddle…”You know, the kind you bought last May.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There is a standing bet among the kids that the one who can get a yes or no answer gets a dollar…it’s rarely collected.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This year, I’m seeing a lot more direct answers, although a nudge is often required, and he has turned into a regular chatterbox on car trips.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sometimes it’s silly, he’s a master of puns and plays on words, but he’s initiating conversation and asking questions about things he’s wondering about, and gathering useful information.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On one car trip he asked about the huge machinery that they use to load containers at a facility near the airport, and of course I launched into a diatribe about Memphis being a transportation hub and how those containers are on the trains that pass by our house, then moved onto trucks that bring boxes of groceries to the store where he works, and then the stockers unload them and put them on the shelves, and he actually listened fairly attentively without too much eye rolling.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The biggest break through this year, though, was our trading in his old flip phone for an i-phone…something that I expected to be met with great resistance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He and his driver had done some shopping though and by the time he and his dad actually went to complete the transaction, he was really excited about it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His niece and nephews have been helpful in helping him learn about apps and use the camera functions and I’ve struggled through getting itunes music on it for him. Soon he discovered texting and was running up the bill on our family plan just like any young person would.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was astounded that he would actually take time to type on that teeny tiny keyboard, but I’m realizing that he has been spending a lot of time alone, and that he was ready to reach out to people he loves and trusts, just on his own terms.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We’ve had to lay down some rules to keep him from driving people crazy, especially his favorite frienemy, Brother-in-Law John, but he’s a rule-follower, and he’s to be trusted once he understands what the rules are.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Then came Facebook, and much to my amazement, he was soon posting photos of his favorite things (snowglobes and his award for running the 5K) and shouting out to the world about being the “best Believer”, whatever that means in his world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He loves when people “friend” him, and has asked some folks to be friends, although it really confused him that relatives could also be “friends” on Facebook.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s a learning curve, but he’s catching up to it.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">When we talked about his birthday, and the fact that the next one would be a big one…FORTY…he basically freaked out, pretty much like most of us did once upon a time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Oh no, I’m not ever turning forty…Oh no…”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And that was the end of the discussion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So here’s to Walker, thirty-nine forever.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s a pretty great age to be.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Blessings,<br />
Janie</span></div>
Janie Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18053546704853403645noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-508545331300613340.post-27428698731698531012014-07-28T15:38:00.000-05:002014-07-28T15:38:20.197-05:00<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Theology with Walker</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Walker has never been much for asking questions, and when he
does, I’m never sure whether my answers are going to be what he’s looking
for.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I never thought that at age thirty
eight, he and I would be discussing theology.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Last night after we
got home from the lake he was finishing up a slice of pizza and playing with
the pictures on his iPhone, when he showed me a picture his favorite brother in
law John had sent him of the Dossal hanging of Jesus from our former church.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The hanging shows a stylized Jesus with open bleeding
hands and feet, and it always really kind of creeped me out, but Walker seemed
to be delighted with it.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“When did I first become a believer?” he asked.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Well, you’ve been going to Young Life for a couple of years
now, I guess,” dating my response to the first time he started talking about
being the “World’s Greatest Believer”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“No, I mean before that.”</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Well, I suppose you’ve always been a Believer, since you
were baptized when you were a little baby and we promised to teach you about
Jesus being raised from the dead to save us from our sins.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We promise that every time we baptize
someone.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Dead silence for a bit.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Is our church American?”</span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Well, it’s in America, so I guess so.”</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“No, I mean…Oh forget it.”</span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Our church is a Christian Church, because we believe that
Jesus was resurrected.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There are a lot
of churches that believe that all over the world, and ours is in America.”</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“How did it get here?”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Well, after Jesus died his disciples told the Good News of
his resurrection to more and more people around where they lived, and as more
and more people knew about him, some of them eventually came to America.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some of them are Episcopalians like us, some
are Presbyterians like the ones where the boys go to school, and others are
Catholic like where you went to school….”</span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“What are the ones at Hutchison?” (The school where the
girls attended.)</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“It’s not part of a church…it’s just a school.”</span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I can’t imagine how impossibly difficult the world must seem
to Walker as his eyes are gradually opening beyond his family and friends.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m not sure he gets the picture I tried to
paint for him, and I may have to answer more questions from time to time, but I’m
truly fascinated to see his faith developing and his curiosity expanding beyond
the boundaries of family and friends.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>His questions lead me along paths I never expected to wander.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Blessings,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Janie</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA7P3MMdQdJ4-tNY4FfI0fqlwSgg5fJV7xdgxzFSCxucS8Ft8wFYhTc8PhI8vdK_uj1CHOmVURqosGRSk9UyzlUcjLc87V2RcJm7wK57bRNmNW1zlzH33jtyJVnFFY41-AmaBgAVIgifAh/s1600/Risen+Christ+Dossal.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA7P3MMdQdJ4-tNY4FfI0fqlwSgg5fJV7xdgxzFSCxucS8Ft8wFYhTc8PhI8vdK_uj1CHOmVURqosGRSk9UyzlUcjLc87V2RcJm7wK57bRNmNW1zlzH33jtyJVnFFY41-AmaBgAVIgifAh/s1600/Risen+Christ+Dossal.jpg" /></a></div>
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<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
Janie Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18053546704853403645noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-508545331300613340.post-11189270190525194682014-06-10T10:23:00.000-05:002014-06-10T10:23:40.104-05:00You Might Mess it Up
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I’ve gotten used to seeing my daughters’ competence levels
surpass mine as they grow and mature and I age and frankly just don’t give a
damn a good deal of the time, but this morning Walker kind of brought me up
short.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was getting ready for a family
dinner tonight, and really needed to get the breakfast dishes in the
dishwasher, which he had not quite finished unloading when his breakfast dinged
that it was ready.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>While he served his
plate, I asked if he’d be sure to get the rest of the dishes after he ate, or…”I
guess I could do them for you, “ I offered.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Well, I guess you could…but you might mess them up.”</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Apparently my dish placement isn’t up to his standards.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As he ate and I unloaded, he watched me
intently, and as I was about to close the dishwasher and turn to the
handwashing, he yelped, “Mom…you forgot a glass.” </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I glanced down, didn’t see it, and once again tried to close
the dishwasher.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“MOM!...there on the rack!”</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Sure enough, I was about to leave a small , clean juice
glass on the dishwasher rack.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Just be more careful next time.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Between us, the dishes got put away and all is quiet and
calm once more.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Blessings,</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Janie</span></div>
Janie Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18053546704853403645noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-508545331300613340.post-82536741876328796722014-01-15T12:27:00.002-06:002014-01-15T15:08:02.664-06:00I'm Not Here!By popular demand, I'm going to resume some vignettes of Life with Walker...or Walker Stories as I've called them through the years.<br />
<br />
Day to day, life with Walker is pretty routine now. He behaves like an older adolescent, mostly cooperative, diligent about his chores almost to obsession...we must not stay out too late on Sunday nights because he has to get home to get the garbage out. He's increasingly more interactive with the family without too many outbursts or frustrations. He knows I'm compulsively on time, and after getting left behind for not being ready a time or two, he's always on time too. He prefers fixing his own breakfast on weekdays, but occasionally requests for me to cook an egg if I'm not busy. (Our attempts to teach him to use the stove top haven't been totally successful, although he's good with the oven or microwave.) He prefers breakfast treats on the weekends and dinner that doesn't include leftovers two nights in a row.<br />
<br />
Walker's independence is both a blessing and a curse. He sometimes tries to solve problems beyond his abilities and is often reluctant to ask directly for help when he really needs it. We're working on that. For a number of years now we have felt comfortable leaving him home for periods of time now extending up to six or seven days at a time. This requires a good bit of planning. He has a paid Personal Attendant (your tax dollars at work) who takes him to and from work and on outings on weekends which usually involve shopping, movies, bowling, or Young Life or other Special Needs activities. As long as the attendant is a reliable sort things work smoothly...but there's always the worry that he'll oversleep or even forget...and the guy we have right now is actually not as reliable as Walker. Walker's sisters are generally on call to pick up the slack. I leave microwavable meals for him, and he can pick up food at the grocery where he works or on the way home if he gets sick of what I've left...It mostly works fine.<br />
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My biggest concern for his safety is a major emergency....ice or wind storms, a fire, or, heaven forbid, a home invasion. We have gone over plans, but I honestly don't know how confident I am that he would follow through with them in a real emergency. In my nightmares I see him confronting an intruder with a toy gun and getting shot. That's the reality of life in the city with a developmentally delayed adult. As long as everything goes smoothly, he's totally okay...but do things ever always go smoothly?<br />
<br />
Last week while we were in California, the weather turned frigid...like single digit frigid. My son-in-law John was drafted to help out with the hunting dogs in the kennel to make sure the heaters were working and make sure Walker braved the drizzle for the nighttime feeding. One morning John stopped by and thought he'd give the dogs some extra rations because of the extreme cold, and in the process set off the burglar alarm. John went to the foot of the stairs and called up to Walker while the siren was blasting.<br />
<br />
"Walker!"<br />
<br />
"I'm not here."<br />
<br />
"Walker!" <br />
<br />
"I'm not here!"<br />
<br />
"Walker, What's the Alarm code?"<br />
<br />
Walker appears on the balcony in his boxers, "I told you, I'M NOT HERE!<br />
<br />
"Walker, I can see you..."<br />
<br />
Pause..........resignation....<br />
<br />
"Okay..."and he gave John the code, but not in time to ward off the alarm company sending the police, so John waited around and talked his way out of getting hauled off as an intruder...but that's how it goes with Walker sometimes.<br />
<br />
I'm sure some of you wonder why in the world I don't just let the state pay for a sitter to be with him when we travel, and believe me, I have considered it. But truthfully, Walker doesn't want anyone else here, and I'm confident that the odds of him being safe are good enough that I don't think it's worth the hassle of having someone else in the house.I'm truly grateful that he's as independent as he can possibly be, and he has folks who love and watch over him. I hope and pray I'm right.<br />
<br />
Blessings, <br />
Janie<br />
<br />Janie Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18053546704853403645noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-508545331300613340.post-29440145641266214832014-01-13T11:34:00.000-06:002014-01-13T12:30:41.637-06:00Lost and FoundA period of feeling pretty good and regaining some mobility after surgeries and accidents found me anxious to try my wings and I persuaded husband Walker that we should go to Pasadena for the BCS National Championship game where our alma mater, Auburn University, was one of the two teams in contention for the national title. It was a whim, and Walker probably would have preferred watching the game on TV, which he did yesterday while I caught up on some housekeeping chores, but I saw it as a last ditch effort to have a little fun, do something we both would enjoy, and it turned out to be a mini-reunion with some of our favorite college friends.<br />
<br />
This event wasn't as well coordinated as my high school reunion, but it was absolutely delightful to reunite with old friends, share stories from our shared past, see how everybody is doing, and make new memories. Most of us are in a surprisingly good place for seventyish, and although dinner conversation did veer toward medical coverage and procedures a bit, we still found time to laugh at ourselves and look forward as much as back. There was a new wife to get to know and love, several spouses that didn't know each other, relationships that had been tethered by not much more than Christmas Cards or not at all, but underneath it all, we were still pretty much the same people we knew and loved back in the '60s. I probably smiled more in that forty eight hour period than I normally do in an entire month.<br />
<br />
I'm getting more<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcvJ797bVRH1h46S0p25Np4ta1lKPNi2conjlQO4e5kVNTP8c7GVOmQuH78dUVhcL6TXlI20BlR3NrQNOFG4r9pubi776flWJgW3iDQjP_6qUUJQLv-NJtYPrIJ6FTQpagwfdten36jwLI/s1600/CIMG0861.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcvJ797bVRH1h46S0p25Np4ta1lKPNi2conjlQO4e5kVNTP8c7GVOmQuH78dUVhcL6TXlI20BlR3NrQNOFG4r9pubi776flWJgW3iDQjP_6qUUJQLv-NJtYPrIJ6FTQpagwfdten36jwLI/s320/CIMG0861.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
used to stepping outside my comfort zone now, and am not nearly so anxious when I do, and the afterglow lasts and lasts. Our team didn't win...but we did! War Eagle!!!<br />
<br />
For previous thoughts on a similar subject go to <a href="http://onlycasualobservations.blogspot.com/2011/07/i-been-searchin.html">http://onlycasualobservations.blogspot.com/2011/07/i-been-searchin.html</a><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Blesssings,<br />
JanieJanie Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18053546704853403645noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-508545331300613340.post-47906285810837244002014-01-02T08:26:00.000-06:002014-01-02T08:26:02.094-06:00Not so Bleak Almost Mid-WinterStill browsing through old posts which mostly never got read by anyone but my family and a few close friends, and I found this one that seems particularly apt today. <a href="http://onlycasualobservations.blogspot.com/2011/01/in-bleak-mid-winter.html">http://onlycasualobservations.blogspot.com/2011/01/in-bleak-mid-winter.html</a> .<br />
<br />
The advice for coping with Winter doesn't include spending a ridiculous amount of money to fly to California for a long overdue reunion with some of my favorite friends from college, but that's exactly what's going to happen. Auburn is once again going to the National Championship Game...and this time we'll be there in all our Orange and Blue glory.<br />
<br />
The trip kind of fits with my mantra of doing things outside my comfort zone as often as possible. Not that visiting my wonderful baby girl and her sweet little family as they await the arrival of the new baby is uncomfortable...far from it. We'll have a deluxe garage apartment, and lots of hugs and kisses from Emmett for sure, but reuniting with folks you haven't seen in fifty years is always a little disconcerting for me.<br />
<br />
There have been e-mails and phone calls to firm up arrangements and the good natured banter has convinced me that this is going to be a time to remember. I suspect we're all not just older but wiser, and mostly more accepting of whatever comes our way. I absolutely can't wait!<br />
<br />
Please feel free to add your favorite way to cope with Winter below...it's easy now, and can be anonymous if you like!<br />
<br />
Blessings,<br />
Janie<br />
<br />
Janie Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18053546704853403645noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-508545331300613340.post-9988134817689666372014-01-01T09:01:00.000-06:002014-01-02T08:07:01.300-06:00Small Changes....Big DreamsThe new year means a different kind of beginning for me than it did when I was younger. I'm afraid I've given up on the illusion that short list of things to do would be adhered to and actually change my life. Experience has told me that those lists don't have much hold over me...I suppose I'm just not disciplined enough.<br />
<br />
I do get an urge to do things a little better or at least a little differently this time of year, though.<br />
<br />
As I put away the Christmas things, I have an urge to cull out the unnecessary...and there's an increasing amount of unnecessary...and preserve more carefully the important. <br />
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I have few treasures of a tangible sort, and I've reconciled myself to the fact that time takes it's toll on all things...especially my body and my Christmas breakables, but I pack more carefully and handle those I really do treasure with more respect.<br />
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I'm always a bit sick of yummy, rich food after the holidays, and healthier veggies and fruits seem to call my name in January. Molly even re-introduced me to brussel sprouts for the umpteenth time in my life, and this time it took...I LOVED them. That's not to say that Mama's caramel cake won't always have my name on a slice, but sometimes healthier just seems right, and right now is one of those times.<br />
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I treated myself to a new pair of walking shoes last week...basically because walking at all was misery.... and voila! I am walking again with almost no discomfort. Yes, they were expensive, and worth it at ten times the cost. <br />
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I'm seeing some projects come to a close, in particular my Education for Ministry class, and finishing things always feels good. I'll graduate in May, and, no, I won't become a "minister" as such, but I feel much more comfortable in my understanding of my faith, and will continue to pursue it in ways that are meaningful.<br />
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I've found that I treasure time spent with my girlfriends this year. I'm not a great girlfriend type person. I'm much more of a loner, don't care that much about fashion and other girly kind of things, and hate talking on the phone, but I've found great pleasure in my Mah Jongg group and book group and a study group and I want to explore my female friendships further.<br />
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My relationship with my family has changed somehow this year. The grandchildren in Memphis are outgrowing their need for childcare, and I don't see them as much. My time with them is less involved with caregiving and more focused on events. This shift has thrown me off kilter a bit, and I'm looking forward to some time with my California "babies", but am realizing that I'm more free to fill my time with reading and friends too.<br />
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I'm allowing myself to dream a bit. As a young girl I dreamed all the time. I dreamed of Prince Charming, of being Debbie Reynolds, of having the most and cutest outfits in my class, but I never much dreamed beyond having a home and family. Exploring art a bit has given me a glimpse of a me that might have been had I dreamed a little longer. My blog is one way of dreaming. I ran across an old entry this morning with a link to you tube clip that I'm going to play more frequently this year. Happy New Year to all! <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6PPlkOyaqaQ">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6PPlkOyaqaQ</a><br />
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Blessings,<br />
JanieJanie Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18053546704853403645noreply@blogger.com2