Genius

My 6 year old Daughter told me she knows more than I think she does.

I said "Oh yeah, then what is the capitol of Texas?!"

She smiled at me and said "T."

In the twinkling of an eye

August 9th, 2008

On a sunny Saturday afternoon, my seventeen year old nephew Josh called and begged to come over. His brother was already here after having spent the night Friday night. I almost said no since Branden was here, but Josh said "I'm so bored! I'll come clean your house, and do laundry, and anything else you want if I can just come over, Pleeeeeeease?" How can you say no to a free house cleaning?

I finally said "Ooooh Kaaaay....but you have to really do some cleaning, not just sit around and play games all day."

"I really will, I promise."

He arrived only a few minutes later, and true to his word, went right to work. He picked up, cleaned, and vacuumed, and fixed my little girl some macaroni.

Then his "other" aunt called. His "other" aunt is the same age as he is, his Mothers little sister. Her truck was broken down and she wanted Josh to go with her and her friend to try and get it to a shop. They were going to come get him pretty soon. He came and told me, said he was sorry, and said he would come back later today or maybe tomorrow to help me get some more things done.

My little girl, who adores him, asked him to watch a movie with her until they got here. I gave my permission, and made them some popcorn. They sat together in her room, eating popcorn and watching "Arthur and the invisibles" until it was time for him to leave. Branden decided to go to my Moms house to spend the night since the "other" aunt was supposed to bring Josh back there when they were done.

She never brought him back.
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August 10th, 2008

It was a normal Sunday morning. I woke a little after 9:00 am, which is actually a little late for a Sunday morning, but not necessarily unusual. My husband had to work, and when he works I usually skip the 9am Sunday service and opt for the 11am instead.

As was also normal, I sat thinking about how I really didn't want to have to shower and dress and get the kids up and ready. I sat in front of my computer, staring sleepily at the screen, trying to think of a reasonable excuse that wouldn't leave my little girl having a fit about missing "Sunday class." I did that every Sunday morning because I am lazy.

Don't get me wrong, I LOVE church. I just hate having to get ready and then drive there. If I could just snap my fingers and be dressed, have the kids ready, and be there, I would never miss a Service.

As I sat there in my stupor, my cell phone rang.

I picked it up, saw that it was my ex-sister-in-law, and almost didn't answer. I was tired of hearing about that "wonderful" new boyfriend (who was usually either married, fresh out of jail, or homeless) or about some new horrible thing someone did (usually her Mother) or how she had no money but was dying for a coke and a pack of real cigarettes. That's all another story entirely. In fact, it could be it's own blog. I love her, I really do, but I rarely answer when she calls any more.

I don't know why I opened the phone. Maybe because I was still tired and wasn't thinking clearly. Maybe because it was Sunday. Or maybe because I knew I should answer this time. Whatever the reason, I opened the phone and coughed out a "Hullo."

"Have you talked to anyone yet?"

I tried to remember if I had. "Uh, no. About what?"

"Josh wrecked my Mom's car and is at Presbyterian hospital"

I was WIDE awake. "WHAT???!!!!"

She proceeded to tell me he had taken his grandmothers car (her Mother), without permission, and had a wreck early in the morning, around 6:30 am. She said as far as she knew, he only had some bumps and bruises, but they were checking him out at the hospital.

Then came the normal "I have a new boyfriend....he gave me a car but I don't have it yet......." I have no idea what else she said. When the "noise" on the phone stopped, I politely hung up and called my Mother.

My mind was racing as the phone rang in my ear. Just a week or so ago, I had jumped all over him for doing the same thing; taking his grandmothers car to go pick up friends in the middle of the night. There is so much more background to this story as well, but that again would be another entire blog. He is a good kid, in spite of how things may sometimes sound.

The phone rang one more time. My Mother answered on the other end and was hysterical. She was at church, in the lobby. All I could understand of what she said was "Tyra, he broke his neck."
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The kids were still sleeping. My husband was working. My Mom was hysterical. I felt faint. I got some more jumbled information from my Mom....something about going to Harris Methodist in Forth Worth to see a neurologist who was on stand by. He was still here in the e.r. for now....he can move....

I got off the phone, jerked some clothes on, called my husband, and went in search of any pair of shoes that would fit, no matter whose they were. My groggy children protested when I tried to wake them, and in frustration I shouted "Joshua broke his neck, GET UP!!!!!"

They both were up in a flash, jerking on their own clothes, asking what happened as I did my best not to panic. We stopped for a moment and said a prayer, then loaded into one of our trucks and drove to the hospital.

My husband met us in the parking lot, grabbed me and squeezed me, and we cried for two seconds before wiping our faces and heading inside. My Daughter was crying, my son was sober, and all of us were in shock.

Inside, I went to the desk, told them who I was, and they took me straight back. My Mom was already there. I entered the room and saw my nephew laying on a gurney, a brace around his neck, cuts and bruises here and there. I went straight to him, kissed him, and took his hand. He squeezed. I breathed.

I leaned down and kissed his forehead again, and he quietly whispered "Aunt Tyra, I don't want to be paralyzed."
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My Nephew was the "first" in our family. The first Grandchild of my parents. My Brothers first child. He was also MY first child.

He and I had been close since the day he was born. I was there for his first steps. When he was sick or hurt, he wanted me. I taught him his numbers and colors.

As he grew older, I fought to get him assistance with his ADHD and dyslexia. It was MY name first on his school papers, me who attended the AARD meetings, me who was his champion through some difficult times, even after I had children of my own.

His Grandparents love him, his Parents love him, but me....I not only love him, I fight for him. I will stand against Hell and it's minions for him. He knows it.

Through the years, he's lived with me and my husband a few times, because that was what was best for him. In 17 years, he has never raised his voice to me, gotten angry with me, or disrespected me. I am not easy on him. I have dressed him down many times, with or without witnesses, when it was needed. He takes it, he listens without a word, because he knows I won't do it unless he needs it, and that it is ALWAYS because I love him.

Even laying in the hospital, with a collar on his broken neck, I cannot be silent when a lesson is to be learned. While holding his hand, with tears in my eyes, I said "Do you know why I came down so hard on you the last time you took that car?" (I had made him call everyone in the family and confess, and apologise. Then he was "grounded.")

He looked back at me with tears in his own eyes. "Because of this." He whispered. "And because you love me.......I'm sorry I let you down."

"You let YOURSELF down. Don't do it again." I squeezed his hand and he smiled. "You know God sent his angels to protect you in your stupidity, don't you?"

"Yep, he sure did." We both laughed a little.

I stayed with him until they were ready to transport him to Harris. I told him I would see him there, and I watched as they loaded him into the ambulance and drove away.
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His neck was broken in two places. The Doctors at Harris admitted it was a complete miracle that he was not paralyzed. He spent about three days in intensive care. They put on a halo vest. They first told us that he may have to stay for a couple of weeks.

My Mother and I both have medical training, so the Dr. decided it was safe to release him early, only five days after the accident. The day they released him, I drove down to pick him up. (It's about an hour from where I live.) I took him home with me. He then stayed with my Mom at night, and with me and my family in the day for the following weeks.

Since it was to be his senior year in High School, Josh did not want to fall behind, so we got him set up for his schools "home-bound" program. When school started, a teacher would come to my home several times a week. After seven weeks, he was doing well enough physically to attend classes at the school. He is right on track to graduate with the rest of his peers.
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November 18th, 2008

The Halo vest was removed at about 2 p.m. He has to wear a support collar for several weeks, there is still therapy to come, and possible surgery if there are damaged ligaments, but the neck is healed, and Josh feels great. I got the very first hug without the vest, and what a hug it was! He spent the night with us. He took a hot shower and slept with his head on a pillow for the first time in months.
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The day of the accident, my Mom was at church when she got the news. He had attended with her many times and often volunteered there. The entire congregation prayed for him. My husband called his friends, and I called my friends, and to call it a "prayer-chain" would be an understatement. Congregations in churches in towns my nephew had never even heard of were all praying for him.

One week later, with a Halo 'round his head, my nephew attended church with my Mom, and the first Congregation to start praying for him got to see with their own eyes the power of prayer as my nephew stood up to witness.

~*~*~*~*~*~
I sing because I'm happy,

I sing because I'm free.

His eye is on the the sparrow

and I know He watches me

~*~*~*~*~*~

(The day of the accident)

(Right after the HALO was put on)

(First day home from the hospital)

(The HALO is removed!)

(My two first children)

Our God is an Awesome God!

Beauty down a lost road

When my husband and I were teenagers, long before we married, we went to an out of the way, but still visited, place on an "adventure." Shortly after our outing, the entire area was "closed" and all but forgotten.

Twenty years later, my husband and I were driving in the afternoon, and we found ourselves at the entrance to memory lane. Won't you take a stroll with us?

This is memory lane.....

Objects on camera are as close as they appear....

A beautiful old tree along the lane...

An unnecessary sign....

....as you can tell.....


but there is beauty, still.


Texas sun dancing on the water.


Green grass stands gracefully among fallen leaves.


Roots, tangled and odd.

You have to admit it is interesting.

This could be Mom or Dad to the little one before.

And too soon, it is time to go.....

I like Neal Boortz

Go to my "Rant" page to find out why. I double-dog dare ya!

Be not afraid...

This was a response to a myspace friend request.

Just a thought here-I was so depressed last night and so worried for the future. Today I got up and knew with certainty that God has a plan. I don't understand it, and right now I don't even like it, but there it is. He has one in spite of me or my wishes.

The democrats treatment of President Bush, their hatred and failure to support, has had disastrous consequences. We Christians, We Conservatives, We Republicans, are better than that.

If you cannot support Obama, then try at least to refrain from the Liberal hatred shown so well by the left. We ARE better than that, and there is only one way to prove it. If you can do nothing more supportive than pray, pray with all your might that God will touch and change his heart, that God will rule this Nation with his own will. That is what I am going to do. I am not defeated, I am not downtrodden, I am not afraid any more. Prayer can do anything. God can change the heart of a man.

God Bless Us All, and God Bless America.

A unique perspective....

The photo on the left is my mother in 1959, at age fourteen.

This is a photo of my mother (right), taken on a bridge in Georgia, when she was almost three years old. She was born in Texas in 1945, and she and my grandparents lived in a little two room rock house with a dirt floor until she was about two years old.

My Grandfather served in the Army during WWII, and met my Grandmother while stateside on furlough. My mother was born two months after the end of the war.

My grandfather became ill not long after she was born and he was diagnosed with tuberculosis. After having most of one lung removed, he went into remission. The heat of Texas was hard on him after he returned home from the V.A. hospital, so he decided to move the family to Georgia, where he was born and raised, and where most of his family lived.

They moved into a little house on a tobacco/cotton farm, and they all picked cotton to make ends meet, even my mother. She remembers having her own little child-sized sack in which to put the cotton. She also remembers how sharp the cotton bolls were. When she turned five years old she started first grade in the only little school for miles, and only had to pick cotton on weekends.

My mother didn't have a lot of friends her age before she started school, but once she entered first grade, she made friends with a couple of little girls in her class. Within a few weeks, one of those friends invited her over to play, and she was so excited. They ran together all the way to her friends house and played until the little girls father came home.

When the father walked in the front door, he took one look at my mother and took his wife by the arm into the kitchen. He did not look pleased. The kids, being kids, eavesdropped on the conversation. All my mother remembers hearing was something about not wanting a little "ni**er" kid in his house. My mother was promptly sent home, and she cried all the way there.

She had been a little "sheltered" living on the farm. Most of the people she had spent time with until then were the other "cotton-picking" families, or relatives. She didn't understand why the little girls father didn't like her. It didn't take long to find out, and in subsequent years she came to know all too well the inexorable sting of racism.

The 50's and 60's were the height of the civil rights movement. Her black eyes, dark skin, and short, coarse black hair made her a target of discrimination by many whites. By the way, did I mention my mother is not black?

My Great Grandmother, (her Dads Mother,) was full blood Seminole. My Great Grandfather, (her Dads Father,) was European, Seminole, and Cherokee. My Grandmother, (her Mother,) is Scotch-Irish (from Great Grandpa McDonald), Cherokee, and Apache (from Great Grandma). That's a lot of Indian blood. Enough Indian to produce a black eyed, black haired, dark skinned little girl.

So what does all that make me? I refer to myself as a "Mutt." I like it. Did you know a pure-bred anything is usually less healthy and more prone to genetic defects and extreme temperaments? Google it.

Because of my Mothers experiences in life, I believe she has a unique perspective compared to many. She was/is Native American, which came/comes with it's own set of preconceived notions. She was considered and treated "black" as a child during the civil rights movement. She is also considered "caucasion." Needless to say, my brother and I were raised to not only believe, but to LIVE by, the fact that "content of character" was the only acceptable, unfailing way to judge a person. That, my friends, is a very very GOOD thing.

Thank you, Mom.

40!!!!!!!!

Today I am 40 years old.

I don't care, because most people guess I am 30.

Muahahahahaha!!!!!!!!