Francy's New Morning

“…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...

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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 f...

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...

Stephen walking the highway procession to graduation The Graduate! The Graduate with mom and sister The Graduate with Dad Stephen, age one, just beginning his life's adventure Yesterday our firstborn graduated from college. Imagine the band playing “Pomp and Circumstance,” taking pictures outdoors with the sun shining on our son’s cap and gown and smelling the fresh cut grass which brings to mind new growth and new beginnings as our graduate enters the next chapter in his young adult life. Okay, now erase that picture because that’s someone else’s graduation.    Since FIT is in Manhattan, Stephen told us the graduation was going to be at Radio City Music Hall, where it was when I graduated from the same school. We were all set to take the train in and celebrate Stephen’s special day by going out to a nice restaurant after the ceremony. Not sure how or when plans changed, but three days before his graduation, Stephen informed us it was being hel...

www.francesjudge.com If you have ever tried to create a website, and are a newbie like me, you will understand why I want to celebrate. After two weeks of pulling my hair out, I finished it. At least it’s functional…could use some fancy improvements, but for now I’m happy. On my not-new-enough laptop, the program for creating the website was so glitchy. Sometimes I could swear the screen had hiccups. It often cooperated like a two year old in the middle of a temper tantrum. Whenever I tried to drag words, they went too far one way then too far the other way…until I screamed for my son to help. In ten seconds, Elijah typed some numbers and moved my words exactly where I wanted them. My thirteen year-old daughter helped with the slide show of my illustrations. I had pictures disappear then reappear and sometimes hide behind an invisible wall. Just when I thought I got rid of an extra picture, the crazy wall would open and let the twin drawings say hello. Thank God for c...

Drawing by my son, Elijah Judge I had plans to become a famous artist. If I didn’t achieve instant recognition, I would teach at Harvard University until galleries began requesting my paintings. But here I am…after four years of art school, I stand on an alphabet rug and attempt to gain the attention of fifteen pairs of eyes.   Instead of demonstrating the importance of the subtle variations in line thickness as the artist feels the edge of his subject through his medium, whether charcoal or paintbrush, I draw a line with chalk. “Can anyone tell me what I drew?”   Many hands wiggle in the air, so I call on the last hand raised, belonging to Anniah with large eyes and braids to her waist. “It looks like my shoelace before my mommy ties it into a bow.”   I need to change the subject before tears well as the class misses mom and wants to go home. “Well, it could be a shoelace. Does anyone else have an idea?”   I point to Liam who bounces o...