When I Get to Glory I'm Gonna...

Music.  Luckily it's played a unique and significant role in my life for as long as I can remember.  I remember sitting at the foot of Mom and Dad's bed while Dad played his guitar and sang (sometimes hilariously inappropriate) songs for Maggie and I.  On the road to dance class, I heard everything from Classical to Country, Musicals and Big Band.  I learned I wasn't worth my weight in gold unless I could pick out the whine of a fiddle and follow a lead whether it was a half- or two-step or a waltz.

I was reminded on Wednesday just how much music moves me.  Wednesday's my day to tutor at Junction Christian Academy in Hobbs.  I spend three hours with kiddos from K-4th grade and I only enjoy it so much because we're on the same level.  So nice to finally find someone who shares my passion for "We Sing Silly Songs" and writing the alphabet...in print and cursive.

This week, I wrapped up the day with Mrs. June's 3rd grade class.  After picking up rocks from the playground and using them to practice spelling words, we headed inside to sing a few songs.  Mrs. June told me I could leave, but I told her I would be happy to hang out with the kids until they left for the day.  The kids all looked up at the projector screen, waiting for Mrs. June to pick the song she wanted.  A grainy YouTube video popped up, and I noticed the title: "Thank You Soldiers-Veteran's Day/Memorial Day Song."  I thought, "Well, that's neat," as I smirked a little and waited for the music to play.

I would love to stop there and be able to say, "They sang, it was cute, we went home.  Yay music," but as the song played and the kids started singing, the tears skipped the lump in my throat and went straight to my eyes.   

 "When I lay my head down at night, and go to sleep in peace, I can stay there knowing all is well knowing you're standing on your feet." 

That's how the song starts and it's all downhill from there.  Yes, it's corny.  Yes, it's simple.  Yes, some of the kids were picking their noses with the eraser end of a pencil.  However, what was so cool was neither Mrs. June nor those kids know I am a Marine.  I stood at the back of the room, my arms crossed, realizing those kids were saying, "Thank you," to all of my brothers and sisters.  I found myself singing with them, thanking the ones who went before me and the ones who are with me now.

A lot of vets will tell you the only thing they want is some resemblance of gratitude.  They don't necessarily need to be called out and thanked in public or recognized for a valiant achievement.  Just show a little bit of grace and try to understand just how much so many of those men and women have given.  My hope, and what moved me so much, was that song and how it might affect those kids.  That song and those lyrics help them understand this country and the individuals who serve it are remarkable.  Mrs. June probably won't ever read this, but I hope she knows how much I appreciate her for giving vets that honor, even it seems like a minimal gesture.               

Then, last night when I went to pick up Dad, I found him at Uncle Tommy's house, strumming away at some classic favorites and some that are...only known in the Pearson circle.  Uncle Tommy immediately made me a drink and I sat back, soaking up the words and the rhythms that have comforted me, made me laugh, and brought tears to my eyes for twenty-two years.  We didn't care what time it was or how loud we were.  We knew we were going to lose sleep, but I curled up in Uncle Tommy's denim jacket and refused to move. In that moment, we knew nothing could beat what the four of us had, because the songs held us together and we would have been foolish to let go too soon.   

         

Hear Ye Hear Ye

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            Every time I walk past my Ghee’s old straw hat, I wonder if he’d be proud of who I am.  That old hat sits on a horseshoe hook in our utility room.  It’s now “mine” but in nine years, I’ve yet to wear it and Mom knows better than to try to get rid of it.  I don’t hang onto much, but that hat ain’t goin’ nowhere. 

            Then there’s Pappaw’s handful of coins that sit in a small box, tucked away in my desk.  When I open that box, I remember him telling me stories about the places he’d been, even though I was too young to appreciate any of it.  That money’s still good somewhere, but the thought that those coins meant something to Pappaw makes me shut that lid and tuck the box away every time. 

              Gheegee, well, she kept a lot of…crap.  However, she was right in thinking some of the treasures she kept would mean something to some of us.  We dug up a letter Dad wrote to the Easter Bunny one of the first years Uncle Tommy was able to hunt eggs:

            Dear Easter Bunny,

            Please hide Tommy’s eggs on the east side of the house.  Hide mine on the west side.

Love,

Clabe

            That letter, at one point in time, was trivial to everyone but Gheegee.  She knew someday Dad would pick up that letter and shake his head. 

            I think about the things left to us by those who are no longer with us and it epitomizes one of my favorite sayings: "The best things in life aren't things."  I am so often frustrated with how many expensive, flashy things I think I must have because they add some aesthetic pleasure to my life.  In those moments, I fail to recognize the things in my life that add value.  How much have I missed?  What did I miss out on learning? 

            Last week, my precious Mammaw stayed with us and I got to drive her home one evening.  As we drove, she reflected upon things she’d done and experiences she’d had in the past.  She told me how, when she was in high school in Wink, Texas, if the black kids wanted to go any further than junior high, they had to go to school in Hobbs, NM (a 70 mile commute).  I asked her if, when she saw that happening, she knew it was wrong or if she just accepted it as how life was. 

            “Oh no. I knew it was wrong.  I knew they didn’t deserve to be treated like that,” her voice suddenly went soft, “You know, Jen,” her voice now shook and tears started falling, “When Dr. King and all those people marched in Washington, it just broke my heart that I couldn’t be there with him.”

            I forgot my pride as she and I cried together, relishing in the raw compassion we shared in that moment.  The conversation continued (as well as the tears) and that night, my life and my experience gained value.  I could have easily turned on the radio and driven home to the music or NPR program I wanted to hear.  We would have enjoyed each others' presence and life would be fine, but what would I have gained?  The latest on Syria?  Uncle Tupelo's latest single?  That moment was like God saying, "Hey you.  Selfish.  Stop tuning out the important people and listen.  You're gonna want to hear this."  

          Y'all these conversations and these moments of value don't have to come from your grandparents.  They come from peers, parents, neighbors, children, and strangers.  People.  We've become so enamored with temporary fixes that we've forgotten what value the human experience has when it is shared in a deep, conversational, thoughtful manner.  This is not one of those delete-all-social-media-and-move-to-Zimbabwe posts.  Use Twitter.  Use Facebook.  Use Instagram.  But y'all, give a damn.  Liking, favoriting, and sharing something does not translate into genuine compassion and concern.  If someone's on your mind, text them.  Call them.  Learn how to have a conversation again.  

           There are things that cost money and there are things with value.  The moment I told my mom we needed to put down our phones and play Scrabble together; that was valuable.  The conversation with Mammaw: valuable.  The memories in Ghee's hat, Pappaw's coins, and Gheegee's letters: those are my treasures.  Those memories are lessons.  They're fears, temptations, and wrongdoings.  They're victories, laughter, and love.  Listen to 'em.  They're worth hearing.   

     

Word.

"We must be cognizant of our words and the realities they create."

Before I share the article from which this quote came, let me share a story with you. I preface it by saying I do not write this with the intent to belittle or condemn anyone.  I want girls (and guys) to know they have someone to which they can relate and a truth in which they may take comfort.  

    I wasn't really a "cool" little kid.  Even as I grew out of awkward years into high school, I was still a big nerd.  But now...okay I'm still not a cool kid.  Taller than everyone, couldn't do my hair, decided to wear heels to school (and didn't stop until the day I graduated), and just really painfully awkward.  That was me going into 6th grade.  It didn't help that I wanted to play football after lunch and had to have the best grades in every class.  The girls didn't like me because I played sports with the guys and the guys didn't like me because I got better grades than them.

Let's stop for a second.  Don't be under the illusion that I was hated by everyone.  This is far from true.  I had friends and I played sports so I was ultimately fine.  Let's continue:

I got called everything from Suck Up to Little Miss Perfect, to "West Side" because my teeth were so crooked...I think I even got called a slut at one point in like 7th grade, but I'm chalking it up to someone not knowing what the word means.  Hell even a ginormous mole on my back got a name (Charlie) which was, needless to say, mortifying.  I only got knocked into a locker one time by an 8th grader, so I think I was lucky.  However, there were kids being mocked and tormented, every day, because of who they were.  Somewhere along the way, some 6th grader decided whoever his peer "was" wasn't good enough and everyone else decided to jump on the Bully Bandwagon.  You know what's sad?  That tends to stick with a person.

There for a few weeks, I came home either crying or royally ticked off, usually the latter.  Mostly, I was confused.  I didn't understand why people didn't like this person my parents worked so hard to help me be and who told me was wonderful.  After my classmates and friends came together to sign a proclamation that I was the most selfish, attention-seeking, fake person they knew, I was convinced that who I'd been for my long life of 12 years was incredibly wrong.  Soon enough, their harsh words had become my contorted reality.

Throughout the rest of junior high and into high school, I continued doing what I thought would make me successful, but I did it in ways that would make others like me, just to keep from having hate notes written about me again.  It took me until all too-recently to stop believing those things I was told about myself.  Turns out who I am is an okay person.  I'm broken, lazy, silly, impatient, and thoughtless at times.  However, I am also joyful, careful, hard-working, focused, and a beloved daughter of Christ.  And you?  You're beloved too.  I didn't mention anything about being too big or small, too dark to to light.  Who you are is not confined to what you see in the mirror.

One last thing before this must-read article:

The best thing you can do to become better than the rumors, better than the lies, and better than the unnecessarily harsh words is to forgive.  Last thing you wanted to hear, I know, but it's incredibly freeing.  Forgiveness doesn't have to be given out loud, person to person, but it is something you must do within your heart and mind. Don't get even with the "bad guy" by making public the ways in which they've wronged you.  Zero progress.  If you've screwed up, admit it, forgive yourself, and move forward.  Evil is a fire...don't allow your retaliation to be the fuel.  Sometimes hurt comes from a malicious enemy and sometimes it comes, very painfully, from a dear friend, but it will come.  I was lucky enough to have a family who told me from day one that I was made for a purpose and confident, faithful pursuit of that purpose would lead to fullness.  If you don't have that same support, please hear it from me.  Only you can determine how to handle lies, truths, and other words used against you.  Be responsible, but stand up for yourself when you must.  I let people tell me lies about myself until I believed them.  Beloved child of God, certainly you will be tempted and you will screw up, but take confidence in who you are and refuse to let their hateful words become your reality.

http://www.relevantmagazine.com/god/deeper-walk/blog/1478-more-than-sticks-and-stones





   

Ta Fuerte

Ever had one of those moments where God just slaps you in the face? Well, He was so kind to do that to me today. First, lemme explain how we're building the houses we're building. The walls are made of concrete, set into different size slabs and held in position with sheet metal frames. The biggest slabs are 3x3 foot slabs that each weigh 190 pounds. You lift these slabs by hand in order to set them into place, sometimes 10 feet up. Needless to say, the work is tasking but watching the guys who build those houses every day is like watching a surgeon flawlessly maneuver his way around the operating table. 

Before we started working today, I prayed genuinely that God would make me strong for the task until it was completed.  Piece by piece, with the supervision and help of the experts, we helped each other build the house as best we could. 

Enter God. Preface: For as far back as when I was a 10 year-old ballerina, I remember hating the way I looked compared to all the other girls. I was bigger, but not necessarily fatter than them. I had no idea why my shoulders were so broad and I could flex my muscles like my cousin Kris. Okay, maybe that's a bit over the top but really, I learned from a very early age that something was wrong with my body. That struggle has since plagued my confidence and bound me in the chains of captivity that Jesus unshackled centuries ago. Thankfully I've grown, but that struggle still exists. 

I was doing my best to lift the slabs and guide them into the frames without royally screwing up, which I do so well. As I'm working, one of the supervisors, who doesn't speak a lick of English, says to me, "God has blessed you with incredible strength." 

Me? I'm just doing what Dad always told me: work hard, pay attention, get out of the way if you have to. Simple, right? But no, this guy turned the same thing I have hated about myself for so long into a gift from God. Woah. 

At the end of the day, I drove one final blow to a nail to finish a post for the front porch of the house. Antonio looked at me, smiled, and held out his hand for a shake.  "Thank you," he turned to his friend who had just arrived, "she worked a lot today."  He made me reflect on the hate I've showed myself for years. The same body I hate looking at has carried me through years of ranch work, multiple high school and college sports, Marine Corps OCS, and now building concrete houses in the middle of the beaming Domincan Republic heat. 

Whatever your struggle is, I encourage you to turn it into a blessing. It was so cool to witness various volunteers playing with the kiddos, chatting with the locals, and building alongside me. Just because you don't have her body, his looks, her wit, or his smarts doesn't mean there's something wrong with you. Don't get me wrong, we are all flawed and don't necessarily deserve grace, but it's been freely given to us anyway. What better way to work on those flaws than to give them up to Christ and turn around the struggle? 

Yeah, it might've seemed like a slap to me, but God gracefully showed me how precious and unique he makes his children. Blessings are apparent in any language. Love y'all...so much!

The site in its early stages: 

A finished home: 

Before...dirt floor, walls made of leaves, wood chips, mud, and animal manure, which easily washes away in a big storm. 

Honorable Serivce?

Well, it's the eve of Commissioning. That's all I have to say about that.

But really, I just thought I'd make something crystal clear.  There have been quite a few people suggest joining the military is something we choose to do as a last resort.  Couldn't find anything else to do, so just went and joined the Marines/Army/Air Force/Navy/Coast Guard.  This idea is laughable, to say the least.

The first thing you have to know is some of the most inspiring, driven and intelligent individuals I've come across are members of our armed forces.  They have chosen to serve, not because they cannot find anything else to do with life, but because they realize the honor that accompanies service.  Various branches of our military provide the opportunities young men and women crave that cannot be found in any other occupation.

As for me and my decision, it is not a "way out" for me.  Service through the Marine Corps is something I've dreamed of for years.  Now I have that opportunity, and I've chosen to take it on with full force.  Christ calls us to be disciples in so many different ways and this just happens to be mine.

Next time you catch yourself or someone else speaking with hesitation about mine and so many others' decision to join the military, please stop.  Provide for us, an honorable place to remain and a welcome place to which we may return when our time in service is complete.

S/F

Just Like Old Times

Every so often, I feel like it's necessary to just reemphasize how much I love the ranch and how I grew up.  My grandma wrote this brief little piece about the San Simon and how it came to be:

http://genealogytrails.com/newmex/lea/san_simon_ranch.htm

Just thinking about how hard my great-great-great-grandpa worked to make a living motivates me every day.  I can't imagine life without the ranch and I pray nothing ever happens to it.  Living on the ranch taught me how to work, how to treat people, and how to love life.  It's a way of living that I demand for my own kids and wish everyone knew.

Someday it will be a whole lot to ask of someone to give up whatever they have and move to the ranch with me, but I know it'll be more than worth it.  As much as my dad grumbles and complains about cattle and dealing with the oilfield, we all know deep down how much he loves his life and wouldn't trade his simple way of living with my mom for the world.

If I could talk to him today, I'd thank Mr. CW for giving his family something that is now so unique and so different from most of the world.  When I was little, I used to cover my ears when we branded and cry about hearing "the baby cows cry."  Now, that'd be a welcome sound for these ears!  It's funny to think how much I used to hate the early mornings, the dust, and the constant 60 mph wind.  Now, all those things are all part of home and home is very, very good.

Revenge

Taking a break from my story.  Let's just start out with this:

"I urge you, walk in a manner that is worthy of the calling to which you have been called...Therefore, having put away falsehood, let each one of you speak the truth with his neighbor, for we are members one of another. Be angry and do not sin; do not let the sun go down on your anger, and give no opportunity to the devil. Let the thief no longer steal, but rather let him labor, doing honest work with his own hands, so that he may have something to share with anyone in need. Let no corrupting talk come out of your mouths, but only such as is good for building up, as fits the occasion, that it may give grace to those who hear. And do not grieve the Holy Spirit of God, by whom you were sealed for the day of redemption. Let all bitterness and wrath and anger and clamor and slander be put away from you, along with all malice. Be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ forgave you."

That's Ephesians 4:1, 25-32.  This verse has served as a reminder for me to not allow things that happened in my past still be on my mind torturing me today.  It's so easy to claim you have the "upper hand" on someone because you may have done the right thing in one moment.  Likewise, it's really easy for me (and I'm sure lots others) to allow one mistake to take hold and convince me that I'm a bad person.  However, dwelling on either of those thoughts does nothing to help us build up each other as we're so earnestly called to do.  

Hell, look at all the positive this verse contains:

• Don't give the devil a chance
• Turn the sinful life around
• Be positive, don't gossip (can I get an amen?)
• Get over it
• Love each other

Dang y'all, look at those last two.  Before we can learn how to treat people decently, we have to learn to let go of whatever we're allowing to make us angry and be so dang mean to people.  Oh yeah, and notice in there that we're "sealed for the day of redemption."  I'm pretty sure if God's seal is on it, it's a done deal.  Lucky us.

I'm nowhere near being the "good" person I'm supposed to be, but I'm so thankful for lessons like this that give me confidence to keep on keepin' on.  Happy Sunday!