12 Months

Happy birthday, baby!

We’ve had one whole trip around the sun with this precious baby girl and have loved every minute. This girl is the sweetest, happiest baby I’ve ever known. Her smile makes me smile, her laugh makes me laugh, and she is more beautiful every day. I love that she got her blue eyes from her daddy. I love how she giggles when her brothers act silly for her. Her birthday party tomorrow will be “sugar and spice” themed because she truly is everything nice!

Sweet girl, you light up my life. This first year with you has been better than I could’ve imagined. You are one of my life’s greatest blessings. Having a daughter has changed my world for the better. I can’t wait to keep watching you grow. Love you, baby. Happy 9th.

“So lets climb every tree/and drink imaginary tea/and speak a language only we can understand/and I will fight back the tears/as we fly through the years/and I’ll keep you as close as I can/cause I love you more than you will ever know.” -imaginary tea, Jon McLaughlin

11 Months

Our picture this month shows a new trick!  Baby girl can walk.  It's only a few steps at a time right now, but I know that soon enough she'll be running to keep up with the big brothers.  She's talking more now, still mostly nonsense sounds, but a few recognizable words here and there.  Holland wants every book to be a touch-and-feel book, and runs her fingers along plain pages with a confused look.  She feels she's outgrown baby food entirely and wants to share any and all food with the adults and big kids. (She has created an effective diet plan for me by my getting the food I want to eat and then having her eat half of all my portions.) 

Happy 9th, baby.  I love you with my whole heart.  Now let's start practicing holding up one tiny little finger, because the next ninth of the month, you'll be an entire year old!

10 Months

Double digits now, baby!

You continue to be the sweetest, happiest baby.  I think you could walk if you tried, but although your little legs are strong enough, your confidence isn't quite ready yet, so we'll wait patiently.  This month you've started trying to talk to us, no doubt trying to make you voice heard above the din that is your older brothers.  I am going to officially declare your first word (besides mama and dada) to be "book," even though it sounds a little more like "buh."  I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt.  You're a doll, Holland Elizabeth.  Every day with you is a good day, and we've already gotten 10 months full of good days. 

Happy 9th, love bug.

9 Months

A round of applause for this 9 month old girl!

Holland learned to clap this month and she uses her new skill all the time.  Out of the twenty-five frames I shot for this picture, about twenty of them had motion blur on her little hands, like trying to catch hummingbird wings.  She loves to eat whatever we're having rather than baby food puree (who could blame her?), so she's enjoyed trying lots of new foods this month.  She can pull up to standing and walk a little bit if you hold both of her hands, but she's still content to army crawl when she really needs to get somewhere quickly.

This baby girl continues to be as sweet as pie.  She's all sugar and (true to third child lore) seems to know that her job is to roll with whatever crazy schedule the rest of us are operating on.  She wins the best sleeper award, too!

Happy ninth, my little love.  I'm so glad I'm your mommy.

8 Months

Happy ninth, baby girl.

On a technicality (because it's after midnight on the 8th as I post this), you are 8 months old today.  I can't believe it.  I'm up late tonight thinking of some things that are not important (building a new house) some things that are very important (praying for a sweet friend who just came out of the hospital) and you.  Precious girl, I want everything for you.  At 8 months old you are the happiest, easiest, best sleeping baby I've ever had.  Your very first tooth just poked through the gums, which is always a fun moment for your mommy/dentist.  Your new favorite game is practicing pulling up to standing, and then sitting down with a plop.  It's my fault, really, because I cheer for you every time you do either one.  It's a win-win situation at Casa Edwards.  This month it was especially hard to take your picture because you are always on the move, so this side-swipe pic was the best I could manage, but I do declare you're still adorable, even crunched over sideways.

Happy 9th, little lady.  I love you to pieces.

The Best Medicine

There is a narrative that exists in our society in which the healthcare field has been overtaken with caricatures of good and evil. Hospitals, pharmaceutical companies, insurers, and physicians are cast as greedy villains, who care little or not at all about the well-being of the patient, but thoughtlessly follow charts and doctrines of Western medicine and then go home to swim in piles of golden coins like Scrooge McDuck. 

While I would admit that there are some greedy folks in the healthcare field (just as in every other field) and that there is room for improvement in the treatment of patients, I also believe that there are very few true villains in this life, both in the healthcare field or in any other. In fact, I even believe there are heroes who are doctors, hospital administrators, pharmaceutical researchers, and many other healthcare-related positions. 

The problem is, we often don’t hear their stories of victory, partly because patient privacy is of paramount importance, and partly because they simply tend to be humble folks. But I happen to be married to a doctor, and sometimes I find myself compelled to share a story that flies in the face of the more negative perspective that seems so pervasive. 

One such story is this one. 

A woman was in the hospital due to breathing complications stemming from a problem in her lungs. The situation was quite grave—her doctors had warned her that while she needed the assistance of a ventilator to breathe during this moment of acute lung malfunction, they could not guarantee she would be able to come off the ventilator afterward. Happily, a while later she was able to move from the ventilator to a tracheotomy, but dealing with the stress of the situation had taken a toll on her mentally, physically, and emotionally. 

Being unsure of her future ability or inability to breathe on her own had left her feeling anxious, afraid, and weak. Upon entering her hospital room very early one morning while rounding, Jeffrey found her sitting up in bed, struggling for air and looking terrified.  He came over to her bed and watched as she wrote on her whiteboard (as patients who are trached cannot speak) “I can’t breathe. I know you can’t give me any more medicine right now, but I can’t breathe.”

Jeffrey rightly diagnosed that the patient’s feeling of breathlessness was related to her anxiety rather than her lungs, however he also knew that giving her more medicine to treat the anxiety was not an option as it might depress her breathing even more. (The patient knew this, too—that is why she stated “I know you can’t give me more medicine”.) So what’s a doctor to do who is denied his ability to prescribe? 

He motioned for her to hand him the dry erase marker.  Quietly he drew a series of lines and then handed the marker back to her so she could make her first guess in their impromptu game of hangman.  

Quietly there, in the early morning hours under harsh fluorescent hospital light, the room became calm and the patient’s breathing slowed, not by medical intervention per se, but by her doctor, sitting on the foot of her bed for a while to play a silly game.  Sometimes medicine means pills and prescriptions, and other times medicine means distractions and kindness and time. 

Don’t let the narratives you hear fool you. Our healthcare system is not made of one dimensional caricatures. There are exceedingly few villains and while there are occasionally heroes, more often good medicine is simply good work done by attentive doctors (nurses/administrators/lab techs/etc...), responsive and resilient patients, and the miraculous biological process of healing. 

Yes, your doctor really does care about you and your health—and if you’re lucky, he might even care to play you in hangman. 

7 Months

Seven sweet months with Holland Elizabeth and another magnolia blossom added to her first year's bouquet.  What a lovely month it has been.  Baby girl has developed the most awkwardly adorable roly-poly army crawl, giving her forward motion to grab big brothers' toys.  Still a lightweight on the scales but eating like a champ...even with no teeth at all.  We're all in love with those blue eyes (that look just like her daddy's) and her gummy little smile. 

We're so glad you're in our family, sweet pea.  Happy 9th, love bug.

6 Months

This day marks the halfway point of a first trip around the sun for my littlest sunshine.  She's squealed through the month with the highest pitched glee, earning her the not-very-catchy but very appropriate nickname "Squeaky Baby."  She sits up with just a little bit of help and started eating some baby food puree.  Typically, when I pick her up from work, she grabs my face with both hands and gives me a slobbery kiss that only 6 month olds and puppies are best known for.  (But I don't mind it.)  This month's flower is a ranunculus--which means "radiant charm."  Well, my sweet baby, you are radiantly charming to me and to everyone you meet.  You're a light.  I love watching you shine.

Happy 9th, Holland.

Oh, and one more thing, just for fun--I put together the pictures from each baby's 6 month photo shoot.  It's a good thing you all weren't triplets...I never would have been able to tell you apart!

   

Five Months

Happy ninth, little girl!

At five months old you are an absolute delight.  You've found your voice and often use it to squeak with joy or displeasure.  (I remember your oldest brother doing the same thing around this age, but you, my dear, are in a register all your own!)  You can roll from back to front or front to back, but you much prefer to turn left.  We will have to work on moving to the right so you don't turn out lopsided.  If I'm really honest, though, your biggest preference is to be in someone's arms.  That little thumbkin is still in your mouth about 90% of the time, but if we're able to pull it away, we get rewarded with your darling little smile.  This month's flower is a white orchid, signifying beauty and innocence.  You are a lovely little lady, indeed. 

Four Months

Another month has passed us by, and another 9th means another flower for my girl.  This month we're using the calla lily.  This flower officially stands for faithfulness, purity, and hope because it blooms around the time of Easter every year.  To us, though, the calla lily will always represent our wedding day, as it was one of only a few special flowers chosen to adorn my bridal bouquet.  Yes, today is the ninth and thus Holland's "monthday," but yesterday Jeffrey and I celebrated our ten year anniversary.  I've been deep in thought about the last decade and all the many choices, decisions, accidents, divine plans, and happenstance that lead to me sitting here today, typing a four month celebration post for my third sweet baby.  Ten years ago, I wouldn't have dared to imagine that one day I would have so much love in my life.

Holland, at four months old you are as precious as ever.  My favorite thing right now is to have a little conversation with you--you, cooing imaginary baby words at me with a furrowed and serious brow, and me, grinning like a fool, hanging on your every word.  You've rolled over a time or two and your big brothers are so proud of you for every milestone you achieve.  You have an impressive list of folks wrapped around your tiny little finger.  You are a joy and we all love you so much.  Happy 9th, love bug. 

Three Months

This month's flower is a bit of a mystery--I think it may be of the imaginary variety...but it sure looks pretty.  We'll call it a purple wisteria.  Wisteria is used to signify good luck in new beginnings, and I think that's a perfect description for where we are with this girl.  This month she is beginning to do many new things like reaching for toys and cooing and lying on her tummy without crying crocodile tears.  Holland is still a solid sleeper and a pleasant little lady when she's awake.  She still likes to keep her little fingers close to or in her mouth...her dentist/mommy is already dreading the day we have to try and break that habit.  She smiles for almost everyone, and if the last picture I post today doesn't make you smile right back, I don't know what will.

Three beautiful months with my beautiful girl.  I don't need any wisteria, thank you.  I'm feeling lucky already.  Happy 9th, baby doll.

Two Months

Another month has flown by with my girl.  This month's flower is the red hydrangea.  Google tells me that hydrangeas represent heartfelt sentiment, which seems appropriate because I love this baby with my whole heart. 

This month she's gotten to spend some time with family over the holidays, my mom during my first week back at work, and now a precious babysitter who daily sends me text messages about how cute she is.  (I never tire of receiving those messages!)  Even with all of the changes, she has remained our sweet and soft little lady, her fuzzy hair always sticking straight up, and her little thumb or fingers constantly trying to find their way into her mouth.  As a dentist, I suppose I was destined to have at least one child who sucks her thumb.

Happy 9th, baby doll.  I love you from the bottom of my heart. 

Gold, Frankincense, and Her

As you probably realized, we did not send a Christmas card last year. There were many reasons—busy work schedules, two crazy and rambunctious boys, family commitments, etc. But most of all we think it was just burn out from years of coming up with awesome ideas for Christmas cards. However, after piles of fan mail and requests, we have decided to come out of retirement and send a Christmas card again this year. We’re sure you’re all dying to know what we’ve been up to, so here goes...

NO (BATH)ROOM IN THE INN

We’re still living in the college house on “The Hill” that we rent from my (Lauren’s) parents. (Yes, we have Sub-T boys across the street and next door—pray for us.) We actually feel really festive living here this time of year since it was built roughly around the time Jesus was born. And evidently Jesus was born around 1956, because the guest bathroom had that beautiful, multi-geometric, pink-and-Black tiled look. Notice the past tense in the sentence above—we say “had” because a few months ago it was renovated and transformed into a lovely, pristine, white bathroom (at least until the boys use it a few more times). That bathroom is probably the nicest room in the house now, so that is where we have chosen to have Christmas dinner. Cheers!

SHEPHERDS IN THE FIELDS

Last year we bought some land in Tuscola, Texas, that we plan to build on...someday. Right now it’s just a 40-acre barren tract of grass and mesquites and cedars, but we love going out there to care for the pine trees we planted, dream about the house that will one day stand on that dirt, and admire those Texas sunsets. Lauren keeps making plans and drawing blueprints, Jeffrey keeps the place mowed and tidy, and the boys keep wondering where we are going to put the giraffe (because evidently if you own 40 acres in West Texas, you NEED to put a giraffe on it). If you have any suggestions on what to name the place, drop us a line. Also, if you have suggestions on how to keep Jeffrey from passing out when he discovers how much new furniture for the house is going to cost, please let Lauren know.

STAYING IN THE STABLE

In case life with two little boys and a dog wasn’t already frighteningly close to being raised in the muck and chaos of a barn, we decided to get a puppy. Our new dog, Ranger, is a German Shorthaired Pointer and Blue Lacy mix. After some early miscues and lots of training, he is now in 2nd place as the most well-behaved child in the home. (We won’t say who’s holding down last place in that contest...but you can probably guess.) Having a baby puppy was a nice refresher for us though...(hint, hint: see below)

WISE MEN (OR WISE GUYS?)

Not to brag or anything, but our boys are really getting smart! Carter and Harrison turned 5 and 3 yeas old, respectively, this year. Both are now attending full time pre-school classes and loving every minute. Carter is enameled with his teacher, friendly with his classmates, and truly enjoys learning each day at Abilene Christian School—GO PANTHERS! (We can’t say that without thinking of Coach Taylor and Buddy Garrity.) Harrison is the littlest “Big Man on Campus” at Long Elementary. He loves his school because he knows every student and teacher, and EVERYONE knows him. Walking him to his classroom sometimes feels like standing next to a tiny celebrity. He also loves his school because he gets to eat breakfast there every day, even though he eats breakfast at home before he leaves for school, too. #puttingtheBIGinbigmanoncampus

THE CHRISTMAS STAR (WARS)

This Halloween the boys went as Darth Vader (Carter) and Luke Skywalker (Harrison) for Trick-or-Treat. Lauren, being 36 weeks pregnant at the time, wore a black shirt and was a very slowly expanding black hole (or whatever space reference works there to describe a tired and grouchy pregnant lady). She tried to convince Jeffrey to wear a shirt that said “I am your father” and stand behind the boys all night, but he said he doesn’t dress up. Here’s a fond memory from that night: Do you remember those old commercials where the pitcher of Kool-Aid bursts through the wall and says Oh, yeah!”? Well, Harrison basically did that at some random lady’s house when he reached directly into her bin of candy and came out double-fisting Skittles and Snickers. As Kevin McAllister would say, “Yikes!!”

GOLD

We worked hard this year at our respective jobs and tried to save as much money as possible, which we then promptly shipped off to the U.S. Department of Education in large quantities until lo and behold...(drumroll)...we paid off Jeffrey’s loans from medical school in their entirety! We were elated to have that yoke off our backs and almost threw a party...but then remembered that we didn’t have the money for it. Thanks a lot, Obama (or Trump). 😉

FRANKINCENSE

Siri, what is Frankincense? [weird robot voice] “Frankincense is the aromatic dried sap of an ancient tree used for its healing powers.” In case you didn’t know, it’s also kinda sticky and stinky...and so were a few things about this year. Carter’s feet are stinky because he’s a full-fledged boy. Harrison’s diapers are stinky because he’s a 3-year-old with man-sized BMs (we cannot manage to get that kid completely potty trained). Lauren’s car was repeatedly stinky—3 flat tires in a span of 12 weeks and 2 broken front windshields. Jeffrey is on-call one day a week and one weekend a month—super stinky. But all the not-so-good things about 2017 faded away as the calendar turned to November.

AND HER

Near the beginning of this year we found out that we were (unexpectedly) expecting a baby. Early blood testing told us it was a healthy baby girl. Then a few long months later, Holland Elizabeth was born on November 9. We are asked often about her name, as it’s a bit uncommon. Before she was born we painstakingly pores through baby name books looking for the perfectly one, but couldn’t quite land on one we both liked. We wanted something pretty and unique, and a name that would honor both sides of our family. Her middle name was decided first: Elizabeth, after her paternal great-grandmother, Beth, who is named for several Elizabeths before her. Then, rather than reuse a name from Lauren’s side of the family, we decided to borrow the name of a place. Holland is the town in which my (Lauren’s) grandfather’s farm resides, and it will always be a very special place to us. Just like the people and places she’s named after, she brings us such happiness. She is a sweet girl with dark blue eyes and her smile lights up the room. We didn’t know it, but we needed her in our lives, and we are blessed to have her.

We are overwhelmed with joy at the gifts we have been entrusted with and the love we have shared this year. We hope you have a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.

-Jeffrey, Lauren, Carter, Harrison, and Holland Edwards (and Dixie and Ranger, too)

One Month

It's been a long while since I dusted off this old blog to write anything worth reading, but the birth of my daughter compels me to start again.  She's been with us for a month now and I just love her to pieces.  Of course, the fact that she's been here for an entire month and I haven't even managed to write down the story of the day she was born is simply embarrassing (and perhaps a foreseeable complication of being the third-born child), but baby girl, don't ever mistake my tardiness for a lack of dedication to you.

Holland Elizabeth, you light up my life.  You are named after a tiny town in Texas where my grandfather lives among the tall pecan and oak trees.  It's a beautiful patch of land where we lived once upon a time when our house in Temple sold too early.  Grampy is a great man who loves God and Country, but especially that little farm in Holland, Texas.  Saying your name reminds me of all of those beautiful things--my family, those trees, that great man.  Your middle name is from your daddy's side of the family, going back many generations, but the Elizabeth I know the best is "Beth," your paternal great grandmother.  She and your daddy have always been close--I call them soul mates.  And perhaps it's no surprise that she loves him so much because he's her first grandchild, but to her credit, when I came into the family she immediately loved me purely, earnestly, and as her own.  I know she does the same for you, and will continue to, no matter what. 

After an entire month, in some ways it still feels like you're brand new, and in another way it feels old--like we always knew you were meant to be here.  You fit right in with this family and certainly make it a lot prettier!  So happy 9th to you, sweetheart.  A single flower for your picture today, a magnolia.  We'll add another one each month to make a bouquet of your first year.

We Carry Each Other

A tiny child grows in a mother’s womb.  She carries him within her, keeping him warm and protected wrapped in her skin, within arm’s reach of her heart.  She runs her hands over the swelling curve and dreams of the life he will have, the life she will help make for him.  Her body grows slow and unwieldy as it expands to accommodate the sweet child.  She considers him in every breath she takes, every food she eats, and every drink she drinks.  She holds him in her mind until she can hold him in her arms.   

This is life—we carry each other.

A big, brawny toddler wakes in the middle of the night.  His forehead is warm against the cool of his mother’s hand.  She lifts him out of his crib and carries his weight, heavy and sleeping, down the long hallway to her bed.  His legs hang down below her waist—in the daylight he will refuse to be carried, enjoying instead his newfound independence, but in the dark of the night he is her baby once again.  Tonight he will sleep with his head against her chest, and she will wake often to evaluate the ebb and flow of his fever.    

This is life—we carry each other.

A bride, still in white, is whisked away from the wedding by her groom.  He carries her across the threshold and into their future together.  His arms feel strong around her, and although hers are not as firm, they circle around his neck in a reassuring embrace.  They look into each other’s eyes and silently repeat the promises made:  I will…I promise…I do.  They do not know what challenges they will face, but they have promised to face them together. 

This is life—we carry each other.

A group of six friends gather around a coffin, and each one takes hold.  They carry their friend to his resting place.  The coffin is terribly heavy, but the grief is heavier; it settles over the heart like a thick, grey fog.  Intermittently the fog lifts as the funeral party retells familiar stories of the departed, laughing together over their favorites.  The women carry tissues in one hand, ever-ready to wipe the tears that flow at increments like clockwork when the bell tolls and one suddenly remembers: he’s really gone.  

This is life—we carry each other.

A widow carries on with her life, with motions slowed like someone moving through water.  Her daughters visit, her friends bring her food, and her village carries her to the Lord in prayer.  They carefully watch her countenance and try to protect her heart as she wanders on a long walk with sadness.  They all carry the memories of the departed, but she will always carry the most.

This is life—we carry each other.

Carry each other. 

“Carry each other’s burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ.”  Galations 6:2

Children's Book Recommendations

I love getting books from the library to read to my kids.  I go about once a week to turn some in or pick up a handful more.  In case anybody else out there is looking for a great children’s book to check out or even buy for a baby shower, I’ll publish my list of top notch literature for kiddos under 5 here. 

In no particular order, my favorite children’s books we read in 2016:

Bill in a China Shop—Katie McAllaster Weaver

A rhyming book (I’m partial to those) about a bull who loves fancy china plates and cups, but faces the wrath of a snooty china shop owner and battles the impossibility of an animal his size trying to navigate the delicate world of fine tableware. 

EIEIO: How Old McDonald got his Farm—Judy Sierra

A modern spin on an old tale.  In this version McDonald is a novice urban farmer who’s looking for a way to use his backyard for something besides mowing grass…because he can’t stand mowing grass. 

Ugly Fish—Kara LaReau and Scott Magoon

Ugly fish doesn’t want to share his tank or his food or his toys, but he’s about to learn that being ugly won’t get you far in life…  WARNING!! (and spoiler alert) Ugly fish eats other fish and is ultimately eaten himself—this book could be upsetting to more sensitive children.  My kids…well…they laughed.  So there’s that.

The Gruffalo—Julia Donaldson and Axel Scheffler

There’s no such thing as a Gruffalo…or is there? A tiny mouse with a big imagination and an uncanny ability to think on his feet is the hero of this story. 

Waiting—Kevin Henkes

Waiting is a quiet story, with soft pastel illustrations, but don’t mistake its softness for a lack of substance.  It uses sweet toys sitting on a shelf to softly explore concepts like seasons of the year, loss, introduction of new things, and patience.  A beautiful book.

Stick and Stone—Beth Ferry and Tim Lightenfeld

Stick and Stone are very different, but together their friendship can weather any storm.  A great book on the power of working together and using one’s strengths for good.

Blue Chicken—Deborah Freedman

The mischievous little chicken doesn’t start out blue, but after an accident with some unattended paint, lots of things turn blue around the farm.  Gorgeous watercolor illustrations help to tell this story—an ideal book for a little person who’s working on learning his/her colors!

The Nice Book—David Ezra Stein

Very few words in this book, probably most suited for children under three years old.  The nice book offers easy-to-understand illustrations of sharing and caring.

The Tree House that Jack Built—Bonnie Verburg and Mark Teague

Jack is imaginative, creative, constructive, and a lover of animals.  His treehouse is a masterpiece.  The story feels both adventurous and safe.  This book ends with a ‘goodnight’ and would be a great book before bed—it would inspire wonderful dreams.

 

Now go read!!

 

For Ms. Penick

Dear Ms. Penick-

As you may know, I have returned to Abilene (not unlike a bad penny), and as a good Abilenian and Wylie graduate, I read the Wylie Growl Magazine to keep up with all the Purple and Gold news.  I was utterly unsurprised to read that you had been named into the Hall of Honor and hope you can find time in your retirement to read one more of my long-winded essays. This one’s about you—knowing your humble nature, I wonder if the subject makes this one harder or easier for you to read? (I suspect the former.)

It feels like just yesterday that I was sitting in your classroom.  I remember it so clearly—in fact even down to the position of the desk where I sat during my freshman and junior years (except for that one odious day when I was banished to the principal’s office for my disgracefully troublesome jeans with the threadbare knees).  More importantly than my physical location in the classroom, though, I remember the most profound lesson you taught us: words matter. 

Novelists and readers alike know that words matter, but high school students, generally, do not.  This is just as evident listening to the way they speak to each other in the hallways during passing periods as it is when you ask them to expound on a passage from a well-written piece of prose.  Yet somewhat like a writer crafting a novel, as you edited and corrected our papers and our speech, you managed to convince so many of us that words indeed do matter. 

They matter on a page, certainly, even worn Shakespearean pages, because they describe and decode the mysteries of life and love and lust.  They matter when spoken in a presidential debate for all the world to hear or when whispered quietly between a mother and her son.  They matter when painted on billboards and used to convince us to buy material things, and they matter when smashed together after a hashtag in the name of a social movement.  They matter when they provide a welcome escape for a mind too frequently assaulted by the facts and figures of the didactic portions of dental school.  They matter when they are ancient and grounding words that speak to our souls of things unseen.  Perhaps most of all, they matter because they outlive us now, more than ever before, these words we write down on paper or online.

Your lesson gave me an understanding of the weight that words carry, and that understanding has helped me in my interpersonal relationships, my marriage, and my parenting of two beautiful and frighteningly impressionable little boys.  It has given me an outlet for my emotions and an escape for my mind.  Your lesson provided me with an introduction to two of the greatest loves in my life: reading and writing.

Is it any surprise that I have rambled on and on?  It seems I may have been in the principal’s office during your lesson on being concise.  Here is the thesis statement, Ms. Penick: You taught me that words matter, and your legacy of teaching that lesson matters very much to me and to so many of your protégés.  Please accept my most heartfelt congratulations on your honors and your retirement.

Sincerely and ever-indebted to you,

 

Lauren Oglesby Edwards

The Things You Leaf Behind

The weather finally turned a bit cooler, and over the next few weeks the trees will respond by gently releasing their leaves to fall to the ground.  As we watch them float in the West Texas wind, rake them together, and crunch them beneath our feet, we hear the wise words they whisper: Nothing lasts forever.  It is a message that sounds ominous or hopeful, depending on the season of life your heart is weathering when you hear it. 

Abilene has been renowned for many things, but never for its trees.  Our mesquites lack the authority of the stately California redwoods, our scrubby red oaks lack the fortitude of the pines of Colorado, and our tallest elms are dwarfed by the heights of the sycamores in East Texas.  Nevertheless, the trees in Abilene grow strong and true, not unlike the people who grow alongside them in this dusty Texas town. 

For over 100 years now, Abilene soil has produced generation upon generation of tree, and generation upon generation of families, each one slowly unfurling new branches of possibility.  For some, Abilene is simply a starting point.  These folks soak up all the good this town has to offer, and then when a big enough breeze blows by, they fly like a dandelion seed in the West Texas wind to more hospitable soil (but a little bit of Abilene goes with them).  Others put down deep roots, stretching into the cool water tables that run below and drink steadily and deeply of all the quiet treasures Abilene has to offer.  These family trees become synonymous with Abilene, as much a part of the city itself as the skyline.  Some are like myself, leaves that have blown away for a time, only to return in a different season, bearing the fruit of new knowledge and new skills honed to improve our hometown. 

It is this idea of generations past and generations to come that has spurred the Abilene Cultural Affairs Council and friends to dream up a new park and sculpture garden, slated to open next summer near the Abilene Civic Center.  It will be vibrant and green and alive with sculptures from classic storybook tales like Charlotte’s Web.  Close to the center of this garden will stand a large metal tree, its tallest branches reaching up 15 feet to the sky.  On these branches, large oak-like metal leaves of green, silver, and gold will move with the breeze.  The tree represents all that is good and alive in Abilene, a town that knows how to grow happy and healthy families.  Each limb is a family’s journey to find its perfect place in the sun.  And each leaf, Abilenians, can represent you or someone you love.    

For a nominal price, you can be a part of Abilene’s past and a part of its future.  A donation of $100, $125, or $150 buys you a leaf of a certain color.  There will be a plaque next to the tree in a corresponding color, etched with the name of a person or couple you choose to honor through your donation.  For my part, I have chosen to honor my two children with a gold leaf each.  I imagine us going to play under this tree while they are young, watching as the metal of the sculpture grows cold and hot with the passing seasons, until their future children come to run their fingers along the names etched in the plaque. 

This is Abilene.  A town that grows greatness humbly, each generation embracing the next like rings of a tree encircling new growth to provide support and nourishment until it can stand alone.

Please consider donating to this project.  Consider whether you’d like to etch your name on this tree in this town that grew you and so many of the people you love.  Perhaps you would like to honor someone who gave keeps you rooted firmly in the ground.  Perhaps you’d like to honor someone who taught you how to let go of the safety of the branches and fly in the wind.  Maybe you simply want to be a part of something that beautifies this city and gives children wonder.  If nothing else, please take a moment to consider what you will “leaf” behind for the next generations in your town.  Because nothing lasts forever, except that which you give the next generation.   

Why did you do all this for me?' he asked. 'I don't deserve it. I've never done anything for you.' 'You have been my friend,' replied Charlotte. 'That in itself is a tremendous thing.”
― E.B. White, Charlotte's Web

For more information, visit http://storybookcapitaloftexas.com/garden/ or comment on this link.

That time we got locked in the zoo

A few weeks ago, Hendrick Hospital sponsored a 'Zoo Night' for all of its employees. The hospital paid for all employees and their families to visit the Abilene Zoo after hours. Being the zoo-lovers that we are, of course I knew that we had to go. 

We loaded up the boys and arrived just as it started. Skipping the train ride (the lines were just too long), we went directly to the nocturnal animal exhibit. As we passed through the doors I noticed a politely worded sign asking visitors not to use flash photography or bright lights in this particular building since all the nocturnal animals are very sensitive to light. Three feet away from this sign, I saw a grown man using his iPhone to see (and incidentally, blind) the ringtail raccoon. I shook my head and have a disapproving look, which neither the man nor the now-blinded raccoon saw, and went on my way. 

At the giraffe exhibit, the sweet zookeeper spent a minute going over instructions with Carter on how to feed the giraffe. He gave Carter the same spiel he gave everyone else: 'Hold the lettuce leaf out and the giraffe will take it from you. He might lick your hand even, and that's ok, but we ask that you please not pet the giraffes.'

Carter walked over and followed the instructions to the letter, as did most of the other children. However, suddenly I heard the zookeeper say sternly, 'Ma'am, please don't pet the giraffes.' I looked over to see a grown woman, nearing headlock closeness with one of the biggest giraffes, one arm around its neck and the other stroking its elongated face from top to nose. The zookeeper literally had to walk over to her and gently remove her from the giraffe to get her to quit. 

After those two instances of adult misbehavior, I wasn't terribly surprised at what happened next...

Jeffrey was holding Harrison and I was walking with Carter as we moved toward the exit to leave. Jeffrey and Harrison were a short distance ahead of us, as I was being forced to walk at 3-year-old speed, subject to the distraction of butterflies, gusts of wind, and random thoughts. I saw them exit ahead of us, but then as we arrived at the exit gate, a zoo employee hastily closed it in front of us. Confused, I went over to the zoo store, where I assumed we were now supposed to exit. An employee blocked my way into the store. 

I said, 'Can we get out through here?'

'No,' she responded, 'The zoo is on lockdown until further notice. We believe a bird has been stolen.'

The visitors had now been put into a situation uncomfortably similar to that of the zoo animals...literally caged in. The human animals, of course, did not take this forced incarceration well. I watched as patron after patron walked up to the gate and then were refused exit. Some paced angrily, like the leopards. Some looked despondent and tired, like the lion. Some chattered nervously, like the twittering birds. And adding insult to injury, we all watched as storm clouds began to roll in toward our makeshift, open-air cage. 

Carter, for his part, handled the delay quite well. As was the theme for the night, the children behaved much better than the adults. And after about 25 minutes of waiting, the lockdown was lifted and we made it to the car just as the first raindrops fell on the wild plains of Abilene. 

I never heard of the missing bird was found, if it was actually stolen or simply missing in action, or if they simply gave up looking. All I knew was that when they opened that gate, I had to get out of there before someone tried to stuff a rhino in their SUV. 

Mother's Day 2016

Last weekend was Mother's Day, and we decided to host the family at our house for lunch rather than fight the crowds at a restaurant. Around the table sat 4 mothers: Beth (my grandmother-in-law), Melinda (my mother-in-law), my mom, and me, as well as my dad, brother and sister-in-law, sister, and Jeffrey and the boys. 

Hosting a dinner comes with both pros and cons--for me, the prep work is somewhat difficult but still part of the fun. The only real downside in my opinion is the dishes afterward. But among the pros are getting to set the table with your finest china, arranging your favorite flowers, and being in charge of the organized activities. For my guests on Sunday, this meant that each one was obliged to share a funny or happy memory of his/her mom. 

Beth told about a time after she and her mom had picked her wedding veil. After what must have been a very proper afternoon in a bridal shop, her mom took a big drink of scalding hot coffee, and spit it right back out all over, saying (uncharacteristically and without apology), "Well some fools would've swallowed it!"

Leslie told about shopping for work clothes for her first 'real' job and also about one of the times she got a kidney stone on a previous Mother's Day. Leslie was feeling guilty for her health concern ruining what should have been a day to celebrate Mom. As they drove to the ER together, Leslie apologized for spoiling the day, and Mom just looked at her and said, "Leslie, this is great. This is me getting to be a mom!"

My brother, always the joker, told about the time in grade school when he was being picked on by another boy at school. After many days of enduring these insults and Mom recommending that he turn the other cheek, one day she said (uncharacteristically and without apology), "Well tell him he's a fat tub of lard." Bullying problem solved. 

Of course, I tried to take to heart the lesson learned from Beth and Greg's stories: a mother can spend her entire life saying and doing the right things, and her children will most vividly remember the single moment they slip!

Courtney admired her mom's commitment to consistency in parenting her and her twin sister, even to the point of fishing them out from underneath the bed with a yardstick to mete out (well-deserved) punishments. 

Jeffrey said that he didn't realize what a big deal it was at the time, but his mom was always present at his sporting events. In all weather, she drug herself and her two other children (one of whom has special needs) to cheer for Jeffrey as he competed. 

I told about the time Mom and I drove to my dental school interview in Houston together, Dad's directions getting us lost deep in a shady part of town at night. When the low fuel light turned on and we were forced to stop, Mom looked over at me and said, "If you hear gunshots, just go on without me. Even if you have to speed bump over my body, you get to that interview." (We both made it out alive.)

Mom talked about the special effort her mother made for her preferences with food and drink, making special arrangements for my moms likes and dislikes. She also shared how her mom literally ran to her rescue once when mom was injured. She could even recall what her mom was wearing that day as she sprinted up to the house to help her. 

Dad laughed as he recalled how his mom has always found slapstick comedy the most laugh-inducing, so one day when they were snow skiing, Dad noticed a particularly icy area around a curve where people were continually falling down. He called his mom over and they both watched as the next dozen or so people wiped out, and laughed and laughed together. 

Melinda said that she always felt like the 'favorite' child, although now she suspects that all three of Beth's children felt that way. One of the things that always made her feel special was that her mom always left her 15 cents in her office for Melinda to use to buy a coke and candy bar (amazing that 15 cents had that kind of purchasing power not too long ago!). 

It was a lovely lunch and a sweet time to talk about memories made with our mothers. I was honored to be a part of it. 

(And my mom even did the dishes!)