We live in the greatest country in the world!

I am so happy and proud to be an American!  There's a lot to be said for living in the United States.  I'm not saying this just because I recently returned from15 years in Mexico, though that makes my feelings all that much stronger. 

Day by day, I see political stuff on the television.  I'll be so glad when the election is over and the voters have taken their stand to choose a president, officials and local issues.  I do tire of listening to the rhetoric.  But more than that. There are still many countries that have no free and fair elections.  The process away from here is quite watered-down.  The candidates in Mexico, for example, put posters up and go out and stump a little, but for the most part, depend on hired young people to plaster bumper stickers on cars.  It's difficult for them to choose the best one for the job, because the average citizen doesn't get to hear the plat form.

Well, I digress.  I went to the market a few minutes ago to get a few things.  On the way out, we realized I had forgotten the very thing I went to the store for.  Don't say it!  I'm not old!  Just some things tend to leak out through the gray hairs (I only have about 10).  Anyway, I went back in, got in the express line to pay for my item and the lady in front of me was harrassing the checker. I'd quote, but I would never get the words perfect.  The gist of it was this - We have to get rid of this government!  It is US, our government, who are the terrorists.  It has all been created by our messed up country.  WE keep third world countries that way because it's to our advantage. - It went on and on.  This lady was angry.  She said we wouldn't get the truth on the news unless we studied international news.  It's all propaganda.  Poor checker.  The customer is always right.  Don't argue politics, subversive stuff, religion or anything else sensitive.  Just nod your head and smile.  I know she had an opinion.  I could read her eyes.

Still, that exchange is what makes the U.S.A. the greatest country in the world.  In many countries, that lady would have been executed on the spot. Not here.  She is free not only to have that opinion, but to express it where ever she goes as long as she doesn't try to express it with a weapon. 

Folks, we have RIGHTS!  We have the right to disagree with our government.  We can peacefully (or loudly) demonstrate to exercise our rights and tell our opinions.  We have so many rights it's almost disgusting.  And although I don't agree with them all, I am proud to be in a country where our rights are protected.

I mean it.  Go spend some time away from the U.S.  Little things we take for granted disappear.  If you are arrested, you are guilty until proven innocent.  Bail may never be set.  I have a friend whose son has been in jail without charges for over 12 years.  Why?  Since no one in the family can pay the bribe, they won't let him out. 

I know there are places right here at home where there is corruption, illegal financing and all that stuff.  I didn't say we lived in a perfect country, just the best.  Anyone who doubts that can go live somewhere else. 

As for me, I'm home.

That's over . . .

Well, the debates are finally over.  Against my better judgement, I watched most of the final one tonite.  I wonder how much good they did?  Any reasonable person is not going to use these as a basis for decision.  Of course, I know there are a lot of unreasonable people out there. For a country full of very educated people, there are a lot of them who haven't ever had a single original thought.  Like lambs led to the slaughter, they go for the mildest, least offensive answer.  Personally, I don't care what your answer is.  I read and watch and study and use the brain that God gave me to make up my own mind.

My best friend and I disagree on almost every issue.  We disagree on candidates.  I heard her candidate say nearly word for word something she said to me yesterday.  Do you think they've been chatting?  I love her, but am so very glad that I haven't fallen for the line she has.

A very dear person to me was very fond of stating, "If you don't stand for something, you'll fall for anything."  I say that all the time now.  I got my absentee ballot and took my stand. 

Will you?

Movie Queen

Whoo-hoo!  Another in a long line of firsts for us and for Andrea!  We went shopping this morning, out to grab a bite and on the way home, I say the Century 16 theater from the freeway.  I told Robert to get off at the next off ramp.  We were going to check the movies showing and the prices.  Talk about sticker shock!  Movies in Mexico cost about $2.00 to get in.  Thank the good Lord it was matinee time (do they even say matinee anymore?) 

Andrea looked at us and said, "What is this place?"  I looked at Robert and he looked at me . . .thinking, thinking, accessing memory banks.  Nope, we had never taken her to a movie in Mexico, nor had anyone else to our knowledge.  As broke as we were, we just had to do it.  After hitting the ATM inside, we also bought a king's ransom of goodies: 3 drinks, 1 popcorn, 1 candy: $18.  What's that MasterCard commercial?  The look on her face whenshe saw the movie screen:  priceless!

We sat in a nearly empty theater to watch Shark Tales - not bad as cartoons go, and Andrea absolutely loved it.  She munched on popcorn and sat in wonder in a place we have by now taken for granted.  Oh, what a blessing it is to have brought her here from a third world country to experience the American dream.

I had forgotten the how cool movie theaters could be.  I so seldom attend that I can count the number of times in the past 10 years on one hand and possibly have change.  Videos and DVD's have become a way of life for us.  Anything we actually want to see waits for the home version.  Boy, have we been missing the good stuff!

Well, there's always matinee tickets, senior and kid discounts, a backpack to carry our own snacks and a little girl with bright black eyes to encourage us.  Who are we kidding?  More movies comin' up.

Every week I write a letter telling the news of the ministry in Mexico.  I tell cute anecdotes and send pictures of the kids in action.  I'm a week late.  And this week's letter is so hard to write. The mom of 5 of our children was killed a week ago.  She was riding in the back of a "cattle truck" full of agricultural workers.  The boss was driving and decided to have a few beers on the way home.  When he rolled the truck, it crushed Lupe.  She was 28 years old.

I got out of writing the letter last week because I broke my wrist, but now the time has come.  I don't really want to do this, but many of the people the letter goes to know this family and have watched them grow over the last two years.  They will want to know what has happened. 

Thing is, I have to write it without editorializing.  I can't say what I think about the man who had so little disregard for his laborers.  I can't say how many tears I have cried for these children who are now orphaned.  People will now come out of the woodwork to try to adopt them.  And maybe later on that will be appropriate, but not now.  They have an uncle we need to locate.  Most of all, we don't want to separate or further traumatize five little kids. 

So I'm looking for words to write.  Usually I have so many, but today they are overshadowed by grief.  Although we have talked to the kids by phone, we aren't there to comfort them.  I know that our friends are doing a wonderful job, but after all is said and done, we love them too, and are frustrated by our impotence in this situation.

I'm going to post this picture of them the day they came to live with us.  All she wanted was to earn the money for land of her own so she could bring her children home.  She bought the lot about a month ago.  Nobody ever said life was going to be fair.

Domestic Engineer

Incredibly, I am learning to do a lot of things left-handed.  It's really a chore.  I feel totally uncoordinated.  Yes, you say - you are uncoordinated - look at your arm for heaven's sake! 

I managed to cook an outstanding dinner for Rob and Andrea tonite.  Roast beef, baked potatoes, brussel sprouts, grilled pearl onions.  I'd be hungry again if I hadn't just eaten.  I did have to have Robert cut the meat, chop the chives and cut my meat once it was on my plate.  This is why I've been eating sandwiches.  Easier that way.  The downside of all this is now they will expect my best whether I'm in a cast or not.

That's what my kind of mom is all about.  Take care of dad and the kids, do the laundry, keep the house clean.  I know things have changed and many modern women have other priorities.  I think that's wonderful.  Strong women in this day and age are a must.  Actually, that's the kind of woman I used to be.  When last I worked, I had 3 jobs, kept my youngest in private school (although he picked up part of the tab as well) and took the occasional speaking engagement.  I loved it. 

I told all my friends that I would never be the kind of wife who let HIM be the head of household, said "Yes, dear," and meant it and otherwise appeared weak and spineless.  I found out some pretty interesting stuff in the last few years.  the strongest woman is the one who lets HIM be head of household, says "Yes,dear" and upholds him in every way.  Surprisingly, that's not weak at all.  I'm not a domestic engineer, I'm a wife and mom.  A good one.  While HE is head of household for sure, we are fully submitted to each other and we respect our abilities.  He isn't the one to keep the books and I no longer have to fix the toilet.

It's the best job I've ever had.

The Forward Fling

Here goes nothing.  I promised myself I'd keep this blog current no matter what.  Well, "what" happened and I am typing with one hand.  Friday nite, while gabbing with my friend Debbie, I moved forward into an air pump and did a half-gainer into the floor,breaking my wrist.  Oh, the agony of it all!  And the embarrassment.  Nothing looks as graceful as an overweight grandma full-face on the floor.

Despite my protests, I was bundled into the car and off to the E.R.  We had the arm packed in ice and balanced on a pillow, but every tiny bump was excrciating for me.  I silently prayed that there would be no real blood-and-guts emergencies so they could fix what I knew I had broken.  God was on my side.  Only a short wait and I was in the inner sanctum.

After X-rays, the doc came in, told me I was pretty crunched and mercifully ordered "something" for the pain.  Macho nurse entered, stabbed a needle in my arm (it hurt so much I cried) and said I'd be thanking him in a few minutes.  I love that guy!  The pain didn't go away, but I didn't care!  Then a gal put a half-cast up past my elbow and they sent me home until today.

I've slept a lot since then,trying not to dwell on the pain. The pills they gave are effective to a point, but nothing like the shot.  Today the doc put on a lovely grass green cast, ordered more pills and informed me my wrist would remain a little crooked when the cast comes off.  I can live with that.  Who's going to notice but me anyway?

The good side of all this?  Someone else willbe doing dishes for a while.  I can live with that, too. :)

Ma'am?

I was sitting here playing with my computer.  Somehow I managed to turn the sound off without knowing it.  Don't know how I do this to myself.  Fortunately, I fiddled around long enough to find out what I'd done.

We spent half the afternoon going through boxes and boxes of paperwork that I brought back from Mexico.  We were looking for a couple of things, but mostly, we wanted to see how much of it we could round file.  We managed to fill a whole black trash bag with "treasured memories" of the last 15 years.  I don't think we will ever need a 10 year-old electric bill, a note from someone whose name I no longer recognize, or the gazillion photcopies we made to get our paperwork on the adoption finished.  I image one copy will suffice.

Then I came here to my room to listen to music and play a game.  As I said, I was fiddling with the sound.  A man with a bicycle came to the open door to our room and said, "Ma'am?  Is that Mark Brown's house next door?"  I was dumb-struck.  I don't know anyone here except our benefactor.  But I kept hearing him say, "Ma'am?"

When I was a little girl, my mother taught me that this was how I was to address older women.  Never by their first names, usually not by any name until told specifically to do so.  And so I did.  All those blue-hairs at church were "ma'am" to me.  Couldn't ever think of them as "Miss" or "Susan" just "Ma'am"  And now, I'm ma'am!

When did I get older?  I don't spend much time in front of a mirror (my mom looks back at me from there!), so often don't think of myself at any age.  I remember having a very young face for so many years . . .now I'm ma'am.  Wow!  Seems like yesterday that my babies were babies and my life was pretty new.  I don't think of it too much until I see my son's picture or that of my 19 year-old granddaughter.

Now don't go thinking I'm depressed about all of this.  I'm not.  I wouldn't trade this age, this day, this hour of my life for any other.  I wouldn't try on yesterday's problems again if I were offered a no-fault guarantee.  All those times make me who I am today.  I like that. 

Just don't like "ma'am"