There are people who make $150 per hour.

In fact, we could probably name many professions that make far above that.

However, I certainly don't earn that kind of money, nor does anyone in my immediate family.

So, when our pipes quit piping, and our shower, sinks, and unmentionables wouldn't drain Saturday, we called a local plumber. One of the "little guys". Trying to save a buck as well as support the smaller company. He worked, complained a lot, worked more, whined a little more, until he finally gave up and said he couldn't fix it. We paid a "come out and stare at the problem and complain" fee, and sent him on his way.

We moved on to the bigger company. The one we knew would have the equipment and knowledge to fix this very inconvenient problem.

They charge $75 for each 30 minutes they are there working. (Do they think that sounds better than $150 per hour?)

They discovered great problems stemming back to the original building of the house. Between that, and some tree roots, we had a very pricey problem on our hands.

The guy looked at my son and said he could dig the hole for $150 an hour, or we could and he would come back tomorrow. We opted for strong son to dig.

Sweet, Willing, Capable, Very Strong Son dug for about 3 hours and finally, hit pipe! Whoo - Hoo! We put reflectors, caution tape, dirt piles all around the massive hole and called it a night.

Sunday morning, plumber shows up, works with son (who stayed home from church to save us more money!) and fixes the problem. Plumber assures us he knows we're "good people" and he will give us a bill that reflects that. He will "do his best to take care of us".

Total? $1227.50

Wow! I'm still in shock...what if son hadn't worked so hard? What if we hadn't been "good folk"? Really wanted to look him straight in the eye and just sweetly say..."are you high? have you hit your head? you're kidding me, right?" But, I didn't.

Wrote out the check and felt sorry for myself.

Daughter called later that night and after whining to her she finally said..."momma, you're sounding pitiful. Quit feeling sorry for yourself. In two weeks, I'm coming home and we'll all be together. Isn't that what matters at Christmas? It's a stupid pipe. Get over it."

Hmmm...somebody raised her well.

So, thank you, Mr. Plumber, for not only satisfying the immediate problem, but actually fixing it properly.

Thank you, sweet son, for working very hard all weekend to help our family save hundreds and hundreds of dollars.

Thank you sweet daughter, for reminding me that it's just a stupid pipe.

The most valuable thing in my life isn't a "thing" at all. It's those deep, beautiful, eternal relationships that God has provided through His love...

Blessings.

Packages

One of my very favorite things to do is send packages to my daughter.

As you all know (all to well, I would imagine at my constant conversation of this point), she is in Texas studying to become a teacher. I don't know if it's the actual sending, or the gathering that I so thoroughly enjoy. I love collecting things here and there. Cheap chick flicks, lip gloss, fun paper and pens, magnets, trail mix, silly cards, gift cards, etc.

I take as much care in the "packaging" of the package as I do the "gathering" of the package. I stuff coordinating tissue (the color will match whatever the 'theme' of the package is...i.e. Halloween, Thanksgiving, Valentines Day, etc...) into the box and then, right before I close the top for taping, I blow kisses into it. A greeting card with a $20 bill is always sitting right on top of the mounds of tissue. I've never asked specifically, but my guess is that with all the pretty packing tissue and crinkle paper, things don't move a bit in the delivery!

Finally, it's time to tape. I write her name on the "To" section and in the "From" section, I draw a heart next to the word "Home", and then my address. I always use different color markers that coordinate with the tissue inside. (by now, if my Mom is reading this, she's shaking her head at me)

Then, I use enough tape to wrap around the earth a couple of times and finally, it's off to the post office to ask them the same question I ask every time.

"What's the fastest you can get this to my girl?"

They always tell me the "middle" fastest one first, then the longest time and then finally, the fastest. I never go with the fastest. It's usually more expensive than the contents of the package, so I go middle. Even though I want to go with the FASTEST.

I don't know what happens exactly to those packages between the time I leave it at the post office and she picks it up at school. I DO know, however, when she gets one she knows without a doubt that she's loved, thought of often, cared for deeply, and missed...really missed.

It's so good to know someone is thinking, praying, and caring for you even when you're not physically standing beside them. It's even better to get evidence of that!

There's a sermon in there somewhere...

Blessings.

Tennis 101

My sweet daughter is taking a tennis class to complete the final Physical Ed requirement for her degree. This class is Tues/Thurs mornings and she has labored through it with great determination. She hates tennis. She is a softball / volleyball player, and really doesn't understand the concept of letting the ball bounce before you hit it gently across the court. No...her idea of "sport" is to see the ball coming, aggressively charge it, and either knock it out of the park with the bat, or spike it down the throat of the opposing player across the net with all your might.

The first week she was in this class, she texted me with this news...

"Dear Mama, I'll never make it to Wimbledon. Sorry to disappoint you. Love, Ashley."

This has been a source of comedy and laughter throughout the semester. The good news is, my girl has a tremendous sense of humor and can make any situation funny in spite of itself!

Today, though, after many weeks of plugging through, here came this news.

"Dear Mama,
I scored a point in tennis. The class clapped! It was so funny. It just happened and my sweet little team and I got so excited that we had to sit down cause we were laughing so hard. The TA just smiled. He tries to be serious, but that just doesn't work with me in your Tennis class!
Love,
Ashley"

I love that girl.
Blessings...