Francy's New Morning

  FROM THE BRANCHES By Frances Judge Memories dangle from the branches of our decked-out tree; gold bead garland snakes around treasures hung haphazardly— Backwards and tangled Popsicle stick squares, sprinkled with glitter, frame silly boy smiles, laughter I could hold forever, blessings worth tears and trials, And whispered prayers Some decorations span three generations; one Wise Man persevered; though his orange robe tattered, his gift will still be revered— Calls for celebration Ruby ballet shoes, trimmed with gold ribbon from the year of pink lace; Crystal girl angels declare the great gift of God’s grace. Share the good news Displayed at the core, a special glass ball, painted a violet night; Messiah sleeps in a stable, cradled beneath divine light. “O come let us adore…” Memories transcend time, from the branches of our love-filled veins, displaying

Post-thanksgiving, when the turkey carcass had been thrown away, the grease cleaned off the counters, and hundreds of dishes washed, I couldn’t wait to go to bed and read a book. It was 2:00 AM. I have heard other homes quiet down by that hour. Out of our 4 sons and 1 daughter ages 15-26, only the oldest prefers sleeping before midnight.   I had one more task to accomplish—brushing our little dog’s teeth—a task neither one of us particularly enjoys. As I turned on the faucet to wet Keyra’s scraggly, chewed toothbrush, I found myself victim of my kids’ favorite prank. They wrapped duct tape around the hand-held sink sprayer head, so when the unaware hand washer, me, turns on the faucet, the handle is squeezed and shoots water everywhere. I was not amused. I was too tired and cold to enjoy being drenched.   They said it wasn’t meant for me as they giggled. Hmm. At that moment, I forgot the day’s theme of thankfulness. No, not a hint of it left. I did grumble: They d

THIS IS NOT ME If you have ever watched the movie Terms of Endearment , you must remember that humiliating scene at the supermarket. That was me last night. Tired after work, I drove with my oldest son, Stephen, to CVS for a few items because…you know they did use the word Northeaster for the storm coming. And of course we can never find the fifty flashlights and batteries we bought in the past years. And three gallons of milk might not be enough for our four grown-up sons and teenage daughter.   I prefer using the self-checkout line so I have control, can change my mind, decide I don’t really need a bag of M&Ms, but none of those registers were working at CVS last night. The young blond didn’t look happy that I had about twenty items—I had to get more stuff because…you know when a storm is coming, you need extras like macaroni and cheese and soup and toothpaste. Anyway, I’m holding out my important CVS card and coupons because…of the storm…I got more stuff than expec

Dinner time used to annoy me. I get squeamish touching and smelling raw meat, but I can deal with that phobia. My annoyance had less to do with the food preparation than the family dynamics. We cooked for at least an hour, gathered our five kids, prayed and gave thanks to God, then listened to them joke and tease each other, and in ten minutes waved goodbye as they cleared the table and ran off to their video games or whatever. As they reached the teen years, it was even harder to keep everyone together, unless cake was served of course.  Now dinner is a fun, loud, competitive time. We are not fighting over who gets the biggest meatball or who has to exert energy, stand up, walk to the refrigerator and retrieve the milk. We are playing trivial pursuit. Split into two teams, each team gets a card and alternates in asking the questions. No board or rainbow colored pieces necessary.   Playing as a team takes the pressure off one person feeling stupid. I have memories of dr

“…yet you do not know what tomorrow will bring. What is your life? For you are a mist that appears for a little time and then vanishes. Instead you ought to say, “If The Lord wills, we will live and do this or that.” James 4:13-15 I know I can’t control the universe, or even what the next minute brings. Lord, help me accept the unexpected. Last Saturday I missed my daughter’s JV tennis match. Again. I read the school schedule: away game in Bellemore, 10:00 AM on Saturday . This was the only game on a Saturday. The rest of Jordan’s games are after school before I get off work. I have tried to make those games, leaving work early, and still missed her play. Saturday was perfect--I could go to her game on the way to my parents’ house. That was my plan. My plan. Back to James 4: “…yet you do not know what tomorrow will bring.” I know, I know, Lord. But why? Why can’t a day go smoothly as planned? Jordan took the bus to the game at 8:30 with her team.   Since I a

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Keyra sympathizes   Ever have one of those days? The kind that makes you wonder if there is a reason for the dark cloud hovering over you; words you don’t usually say out loud dive out in center. “What the?” might slip out, disguised in a cloud of pity.   Yesterday was my turn. After battling with my heavy duty bike lock for five minutes in front of the Doctor’s office, I finally gave up and parked it inside the building under the stairs. (See past blog about bike getting stolen.) Now I regret not listening to my ENT (Ear, Nose & Throat) doctor and having my earwax cleaned out every few months. I let a year go by until they got so clogged I couldn’t hear, like my head was stuffed with a pillow. You might be thinking, “So what? Get the gook suctioned out.” That’s what I thought. The problem was I used eardrops which melted the wax and let it harden again onto my eardrum and ear canal. The pain of ripping it off was worse than going to the dentist and feeling th

2004 2017 When asked if I have kids, I answer yes. They are still my kids even if three of them are in their twenties, and two are teenagers. The Mom feelings haven’t changed much since I felt the first fluttering in my belly and began to worry about their wellbeing. Now that they have survived chewing on Legos, climbing monkey bars, and running around the block playing manhunt (teenage tag / hide and seek,) without too many broken bones, I have new worries as they venture out into young adult life. How will they pay their college loans? Will they drive safely? Will they still have faith in God? I have this gnawing feeling that everything is out of my control now. Probably because it is. When they were young, I could fool myself into thinking I had some control. I shopped for their food, cooked the meals I wanted them to have, and dressed them in the non-designer, hand-me-down outfits I liked. Even at a young age they began wiggling out of my clutches. In my obsessive