Lord, Heal Our Land

This sign hangs in my laundry room, and I'm reminded of it every time Mike Pence ends his part of a press conference with "Heal this Land." Y'all. That's a man of God in the White House praying scripture over this entire country every single day. Every time he speaks. What a blessing that is.

And guess what? God is doing exactly that. He's bringing families back to their homes and the dinner table. He's slowing things down. He's reminding us of what's important. He's bringing a spirit and unity through our homes and neighborhoods, cities, states -- and eventually this entire country. He is healing our land.

No one knows how long this will last. You know how you feel when you're caught driving in a BIG STORM? Like the ones in Houston where it seems the Gulf of Mexico is being dumped on you all at once? You know how you look at the radar and think, "Okay. The edge is just past 610. Once I get there, I'm good. And you grip the steering wheel and slooooow down and hold your breath and pray?

That's where we are now -- without the benefit of the radar. We're gripping the steering wheel tight and sloooowing down and praying we get through.

AND WE WILL.

Yes, our country is in the middle of a storm. One of epic proportions. One that will reshape us and our futures. One that can't help change every one of us to some degree. And we don't know where the end is. BUT we can rest assured that GOD knows where it ends. GOD knows what the rainbow on the other side is going to look like. GOD'S GOT THIS!

***

A quick update on the Biggs Fam: We were blessed to "socially distance" at the Creek for a few days while the girls waited to start their online educations. Biggs was with us most of the week, but had to go into the office in Houston on Thursday. We had a great time fishing and soaking up some Vitamin D.

Once we got home on Friday, reality set in. Abs has been working on school. Kait has decided to paint her room. Biggs is working upstairs. I'm pretty sure the Roni is going to break the Internet -- with everyone here it's soooo slow. I've been making masks for the medical community.

Last night we had Poppyseed Chicken for dinner -- a long-time family fave. And we watched Dazed & Confused. BLESS.

We ache for our friends who are out of work, and especially those who have had to close their businesses -- and thus their employees are out of work. I'm so looking forward to the day we can get our hair and nails done, go eat a salad at Sundancer, and spend time supporting those friends again.

As of today, we will be in a "Shelter in Place" order -- I feel like years of hurricane prep prepared me for times such as tis. We have plenty of food and even have toilet paper. However, we are completely out of chocolate covered almonds. Soooo.... Lord, Heal this Land -- and please do it quickly!

All My Love,
D'Lyn

Haven

If you've known me awhile, you know (or maybe not) that my Grannie Herring passed away when my Mom was in college at ACU. Mom's sister Nelva was 12 years older and has always filled the gap for me. Some of my earliest memories (and many a family legend) involve times at her house. Gathered around the table in the kitchen and spinning the lazy Susan to get to the pear preserves. Making Bitty Breads. Avoiding rattlesnakes. Swimming in the tank. Her home was always a haven for me. 

It was the place where continuity reigned supreme. Oh the tears I cried there. And she was there to wipe them all. All my life I've been drawn to that space. One of my college professors said, "Food is Love." He was so right. You've never had that kind of Love until you've spent some time at Aunt Nelva's. 

Last June Grannie Nelva (as my girls have called her) "broke the barrier" according to my cousin Max. She fell, broke her hip and landed in an assisted living facility in Lubbock. 

Grannie is just one of the "Greatest Generation." She kept the home fires burning while my Uncle Don fought in Germany. These are the people who either were shipped off to war or those who prayed them HOME. 

One of her sweetest friends is in failing health, and I know that's been weighing on her. I got to spend some time with them a couple of weeks ago, and I'm so thankful for that. But with the coronavirus looming, her facility is closed to visitors -- and I can't imagine how lonely that must be. 

If you're part of my "Tribe" and looking for something positive you can do, please reach out to me. I can give you Grannie's address to send her a card or note or just reach out. She'd love that. 

And in light of the fact that President Trump summoned the nation to a Day of Prayer today, I'd like to share a bit of The Motherland with you. It's not a hymn that's traditionally thought of as a "prayer," but it's a hymn that's one of Grannie's faves. And I'm sure it's classified as a Prayer of Praise. 

Paradise Valley

I hope you're blessed!

All My Love,

D'Lupe

The Calm After the Storm

When Hurricane Ike hit Houston, we were on the Northwest side in Fairfield. Far enough inland that we didn't have to worry about storm surge, we hunkered down and sheltered in place to ride out the winds. Our friend Chad Pilbeam went "sailing" on a skateboard in the middle of the storm, and we lost a pine tree in the yard that we really didn't like. And the power went out. For days.

We were lucky.

We were lucky we were merely uncomfortable. We were lucky our home was intact.

And we were lucky to be in a pretty awesome place to ride out the calm AFTER the storm. Neighbors cleaned out freezers before the food could spoil. We grilled. We shared meals. We shared fellowship. We threw open all the windows and celebrated the occasional text. The kids played. We were blessed.

This week my anxiety has hit an all-time high. As things changed at a moment's notice, it seemed we could hardly keep up. Abbie's softball trip to Cali was cancelled, which meant our trip was cancelled as well. We waited to see what would happen with UofR. The school decided to go online, but it looked like Softball would stay. Then that changed as well. We hurriedly booked a ticket for her to come home the next day as we worried domestic travel could shut down.

Abbie said, "Everything is coming at us so fast we don't have time to process it." I told her this reminded me a lot of the days after 9/11. The uncertainty. The fear of the unknown.

But it reminds me of the days after Hurricane Ike as well. Of the days when the world just STOPPED. Our family runs all-out, all the time. For years, we've been on the sports and school and work and everything else merry-go-round. We've forgotten how to be still.

And suddenly we are. Suddenly we are forced to be still. To be home. To once again shelter in place. To ride this thing out.

As much as I'm NOT looking forward to the days ahead, as much as I realize that if people way smarter than me are right, things could be awful in the days ahead, I find myself thankful for the calm. Thankful for the fact that Abbie's home -- she is home. SAFE. I'm thankful for the voices coming from Kait's room - for two camp friends whose Momma realized, like me, that there's a balance to be found between "social distancing" and caring for the emotional well-being of teenagers.

I'm thankful for days ahead that will include sunshine, fresh air, hikes, floating in the pool and the Creek, fishing, Nertz, Spades, burgers on the grill, 80s movies, dancing on the pier, banana bread, Rice Krispie Treats, and hopefully enough Toilet Paper. I'm thankful Abbie has the chance to keep up with her studies and softball family and "the boy" -- all thanks to the wonders of technology. I'm thankful for time to slow down and praise God for the blessings that HE has given us. I'm thankful that although I don't know what the future holds, without a doubt I know WHO holds the future.

I hope you have the chance to read that book you've been wanting to read and to make homemade ice cream with your kids. I hope you wash your hands -- a whole heckuva lot. I pray (not just hope) God puts a hedge of protection around you and your family, that you feel His presence in the anxious times. I keep telling myself -- Fear is not from God. I pray you know that reassurance as well.

All My Love,
D'Lupe

Frazzley

Sooooo.... Based on a quick poll yesterday, it seems I only have two readers left. I can deal with that. Hanging on to 50% of my readers while taking a several-years break is probably something to brag about.

Or not.

This last week the Coronavirus that first crossed my radar screen in January has landed in our community. And as I have watched report after report, read post after post, I've come to the increased realization that things are about to be very, very different. As I've taken measures to curb my own activities, I've realized that I don't possess whatever talent is required to ENJOY being trapped at home for an extended period -- that I crave a human connection; and the threat of losing that is just plain awful.

As of Wednesday, in a bold move, I managed to max out my allotment of rash decisions -- FOR THE YEAR. ALL AT ONCE. This doesn't bode well for a "self isolation" period that some say could last up to six months.

Holy Cow.

But I have a "thing" -- a "thing" brewing in my heart. A way to make a human connection not just for myself but for the two loyal readers who still read my blog.

For the last year, I've been blessed with the opportunity to tell stories. I've shared the stories of some pretty incredible athletes in our community. The writing side of my brain has been awakened from a long slumber, and I find myself searching for stories everywhere -- always eager to know more, learn more, make that connection.

I'm going to search for some stories to tell. Maybe from nurse friends or others in the medical profession. College students suddenly home -- or their parents. Athletes whose careers just ended abruptly. Small business owners who are hanging in there in light of an uncertain future. Teachers who are charged with educating a generation -- online.

I don't know. This idea is still in the budding phase. But it's growing in my heart and I look forward to seeing it bloom on your screens -- all two of them.

All my Love,
D'Lupe