Dinner Around the Table

By Danna Shirley

Writing assignment for Creative Writing Class...Dinner Around the Table...

            I grew up in a time when our family cooked a meal from scratch; no frozen dinners, boxes, or packages. The table was always set with a tablecloth, plates, glasses, napkins, knives, forks, and spoons, and everyone came to the table to eat and talk about their day. There were no distractions of television or radio. Dad sat at the head of the table, my sisters and I in the middle, and mom closest to the kitchen to make a few trips back for additional milk or iced tea.

Mom was a school teacher and able to be home earlier than other working mothers. She taught my sister, Nan, how to get dinner started by peeling potatoes and making a salad. As I got older, I took over the responsibility of mashing the potatoes and making the salad. It was none of those packaged salads either. I had to wash and tear the lettuce, cut up the tomatoes, strip and slice the carrots and cucumbers, and top and slice the radishes. I hated making the salad!

            Talk around the table was how everyone’s day had gone, homework questions, and what party or dance or movie was coming up on the weekend. After dinner Dad and Mom retired to the den and we did the cleanup. Nan washed, Paula dried, and I cleared the table. As we got older, our chores changed and when we got our first dishwasher, cleanup went even faster.

            Then television entered our lives and everything changed. I wanted to watch cartoons or the Three Stooges but Dad always won out with the Huntley-Brinkley Report or Walter Cronkite. The news was boring to me. Even now I can only take it for so long and then I give up.

            As the youngest I never really learned to cook except for the most basic dishes like tuna casserole, hamburgers, chicken, pork chops; nothing fancy that required more than three ingredients or a page-long recipe of instructions. One of my first meals after marriage was fried chicken. Ron was in shock as he watched me put two layers of chicken in a skillet. I was frying it just like my mother always did. He knew it would never crisp up like that but would just sit in the grease and be soggy. After that, he did a lot of the cooking, which was just fine with me.

             When our own family began to arrive, we ate in front of the television, either watching the news for us or Scooby-Doo for the children. Eventually, it was always Scooby-Doo.

As the children got older, I tried to re-institute my childhood dinner hour by setting the table and turning off the television. It was a pleasant memory for me and I hoped I could create the same atmosphere for them. Ron supported my efforts. Unfortunately, all they wanted to do was eat fast and get back to the television, Ron included.

Now I have an empty nest. My kitchen table is piled high with sewing material and my stove barely gets used. I do a lot of fast food, microwaving, and eating on my lap in front of the television. I don’t know if this is normal for every other household or just mine. I do wish for the good ole days when families did eat dinner around the table, have conversations about their day, and just stay in touch with each other.

I don’t have to contend with the hand-held screens the kids are glued to today but I’m sure it is as much of a conflict now as television was forty years ago.

Grand Theft Auto--A True Story

by Danna Shirley

“What’s the number for the police?” she asked her caregiver angrily.

“9-1-1,” John replied.

She dialed the number and told the operator her car had been stolen and to send someone out to talk to her right away.

So, who was this woman calling the police to report a car thief? My mother!

Why was she calling the police? She thought I had stolen her car!

How did this grand theft auto fiasco begin? Well, here’s the truth of it . . .

            My sister, Paula, had asked my mom if I could drive her car while I was visiting them in Napa, California for seven weeks in March and April. After all, I would be running errands for her to the store, to doctor visits, to the pharmacy, etc.

            Mom gave the okay, so when I arrived on March 8^th, Paula and I rode over to pick up the car. Now Mom has a little dementia; or should I say a great deal of dementia so she was a little iffy that she had actually agreed to this exchange. Please understand the car sits in her garage with a dead battery most of the time because it is never driven.

It wasn’t long before she insisted I bring her car back every night. She wanted it parked in her garage. We tried to explain that if it stayed at her house, and I was at Paula’s house, there was no way I could use it. I had to keep it with me every night. What confusion! We just couldn’t convince her why this wasn’t possible. This demand went on every week or so; she insisting we bring the car back and us trying to explain why, if I was going to take her places, I needed to keep the car.

Although caregivers are with her around the clock, my mom waits until they are out of sight and then tries to get up by herself.  She is very stubborn and sneaky so my sister installed cameras in the living room and bedroom to watch her movements. It doesn’t hurt either, to know what the caregivers are doing. These cameras can be watched on our computer at any time, saving up to ten day’s worth of recordings.

I just happened to tune in the night she was asking John for the phone number to the police. He knew she was upset and adamant about her “stolen car” and he gave her the number anyway! How’s that for caregiving a 97-year-old dementia patient? All this time I’m watching the video and she is getting more and more hostile about her missing car.

Paula was running errands in town so I called her to go to Mom’s immediately, the police would be arriving soon. She walked in a few minutes before the officer. The poor man was greeted with a confused, angry woman. Paula tried to defuse the situation by telling him in a whisper, “She’s off the rails tonight. Please ignore her.”

He still had to question her for his report and asked, “Ma’am, did someone steal your car?”

“Yes,” she replied, “and I could just kill them.”

“Ma’am, do you have a weapon?”

“No, but I can get one,” she answered.

Paula just shook her head and he left without incident.

That seemed to calm her down for a few days and then we were back to the same dialogue. “I want my car back in my garage right now!”

I only had another few weeks left in California before I returned to Tennessee but Paula and I decided it wasn’t worth the upset on everyone’s part to keep the car. I returned it to her garage, walked in, and handed her the key. My parting words were, “Thank you for letting me use your car. Now you can go out there and sit in it until it rots.” That doesn’t sound very loving but after days and weeks of her verbal abuse, I had had it.

What was her reply? “Well, I didn’t mean that you couldn’t drive it.”

I threw up my hands and walked out the door. I guess I would not be a very good caregiver with a dementia patient. I don’t have the temperament or the endurance.

            Later, in June, at my mother-in-law’s 93^rd birthday party in Alabama, my comedian brother-in-law, Ken, announced to the whole Shirley family gathering, “Hide your keys, we have a car thief in our midst.” Oh, how he enjoyed telling that one on me. 😊

Being a Witness for Christ

by Danna Shirley
I wrote the following letter to one of my firefighters when I worked for the Ocean Springs Fire Department (2004). I have not used his real name:

Justin, you asked me the other day if I was praying for you (yes, every morning on my way to work) and then the subject of church came up. I didn't want to get into a discussion there at the fire station but please allow me to address it now. 

I could hear a real hurt, even anger in your words regarding the "gossip" and "backbiting" that goes on in some churches. Unfortunately, gossip and backbiting goes on in all circles of life, it's human nature...the workplace, the family, the community, and sad to say, even in the church, but would you quit going to work, family functions, or eating out and shopping? No! So why would you let satan lie to you and keep you from going to church?

As a Baptist, I'm sure you are familiar with the term being "saved" or "born again." Well, a Christian is just someone who has been saved by grace...not someone who is instantly changed to be Christ-like. After salvation, a new believer should begin by renewing their mind with the Word of God (Romans 12:1-2) and allowing God to change them.

I'm sorry you've had some bad experiences in church and I'm sure if those Christians knew what they said or did had affected you so negatively, they would repent (Mark 9:42). Please keep this in mind, though, when the Holy Spirit draws someone to the Lord and they make that first step across the line into salvation and the Kingdom of God, they are still the same person (in the flesh) they've always been. They change only when they allow God, through the conviction of the Holy Spirit, to begin to change their...
Thinking (1 Corinthians 2:16)
Reactions to situations (Ephesians 4:31-32)
Conversation (Ephesians 4:29)
Heart (Ephesians 6:6)

I've stressed the words "allow God" for a reason. Some people may have stepped over the line into salvation and just parked there. They haven't really begun their journey with God or moved any closer to Him; they haven't allowed God to make them new creations in Christ Jesus (2 Corinthians 5:17). There has to be a surrender to the conviction of the Holy Spirit and a desire to obey that conviction before any life changes are made. Unfortunately, some people, through stubbornness or ignorance, are just not willing to let God do His work in them. They've made the "fire escape" and that is as far as they want to go. Why? Because going farther might mean changing their lifestyle, their attitude, their friends, and possibly even their job.   

As Christians, we have to daily crucify our flesh and our flesh tends to want to continue in sin (gossip, judgment, etc. Galatians 5:19-21), but as we grow in grace and in the knowledge of Jesus Christ (through church attendance, Bible study, prayer, etc.), we should at some point begin to produce the fruit of the Spirit, which is love joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control (Galatians 5:22-26). That's hard to do since we live in this world with all its problems and those problems hit us right in the face every day. However, we still need to work on being more like Christ and with God's help we do grow and mature as Christians. Eventually we see we are not the same as we used to be but we haven't arrived yet either. The journey continues throughout our lives until the day we die. Along with striving forward there are days of backsliding, but we confess our sin, repent, and press on (Philippians 3:13-15). We may take two steps forward and one back, but striving onward is worth the journey.

I've met some who think they are saved but their actions and words are far from God. Only God knows their heart, not me. It was said to me once, "Sitting in church doesn't make you a Christian any more than sitting in a garage makes you a car!" So if someone in particular who claims to be a Christian did thus and so, that doesn't mean all Christians are hypocrites. Just look at the Catholic Church right now. Are all priests child molesters? Are all Catholics guilty for what these priests have done? God and Christians get a very bad rap for a lot of things others do in the flesh.

Church is not a gathering place for saints but a hospital for sinners...for we all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God (Romans 3:23). Attending church is just one of the steps we take to find the right path and stay on it. When we accept Jesus as our Lord and Savior, we are born again by the Spirit. Just like when we were born physically, we had to learn to sit up, crawl, walk, etc., so also in our spirit-man there is the process of crawling, walking, and maturing through the Spirit. We can't expect a two-month-old baby to run a marathon and we shouldn't expect a baby Christian to know how to say and do everything in a godly manner. Unfortunately, there are those who have been twenty years in the faith still acting like baby Christians. They haven't allowed God to mature them in the Lord. I know this is no excuse for gossip and backbiting but it is an explanation. Our response should be to pray for them.

Everyone moves along in their walk with the Lord at their own pace. i have grown more like a tortoise over the last 22 years but I have a friend who grew like a hare. Thank God we are not to compare ourselves with others (2 Corinthians 10:12). We don't know at what level of growth someone else is and they don't know ours. That's why it is very wise to obey the scripture, "Judge not, that you be not judged. For with what judgment you judge, you will be judged; and with the measure you use, it will be measured back to you." (Matthew 7:1-2) That's a scary thing...think about it.

I know this may seem like a cop-out because everyone judges, has an opinion on everything. This is just human nature. However, if we allow God to convict us when we judge another and make a heart change in ourselves, then we are truly growing and maturing in Christ. Fast or slow, it is still a process and no one reaches it until heaven.

For me, church encourages and edifies my faith. I learn more through the sermons than I do through my own reading. Fellowship with other believers and testimonies of their lives helps me realize I am not the only one going through trials and tribulations. Sharing your burden divides the burden knowing others are praying for you (Galatians 6:2). It's sad to think you are alone when you're going through a crisis. God never intended for you to be alone. He is always with you and in you.

Church gives me a different perspective as well; kind of like when "I can't see the forest for the trees," someone will share their meaning of a scripture that is completely different than what I understand and a light goes on in my head; the Holy Spirit has just illuminated it to me. 

So why do we need church? . . .
1. It's a family reunion; we are brothers and sisters with Christ (Romans 8:17)
2. It's like a classroom; we learn how to be disciples of Christ (John 8:31-32)
3. It's like a memorial service; Jesus died for us so we honor Him (John 3:17)
4. It's like a victory celebration; an empty tomb declares His resurrection and His triumph over hell, death, and the grave (Luke 24:1-8)
5. It's time spent with Father God and He delights in spending time with us. He wants to reveal His plans for our life (Jeremiah 29:11-13)
6. Where two or three are gathered together in His name, He is there (Matthew 18:20) 
7. He tells us not to forsake gathering together in His name (Hebrews 10:25)
8. We are all part of God's family and we are to be there for one another (James 2:15-17)

My vision of church is this:
Picture a BBQ grill full of charcoal, red hot and on fire, all warm and toasty and glowing (that's church). Take one coal out of the grill and set it aside...alone. Pretty soon it begins to cool off. Now instead of red hot and glowing, it becomes cold, dark, and hard (that's me when I miss church). If you plug into your local body of believers and everyone is in fellowship with one another, practicing the faith, obeying the scriptures, etc., then we're all red hot, glowing, and on fire for God.

I was raised Methodist and I'm now Assembly of God. It doesn't matter what church you attend as long as they preach the truth of the Gospel. There are hot and cold church (alive and dead) in every denomination. So how do you find the church where God wants you planted? The key is to seek God's will, not your own! He has the perfect place He wants you to be, the church He knows will minister to your needs, will teach you about Him and His love, grace, and mercy, even where you can be used in ministry to help others as you grow into maturity. Church is give and take. We are to give back as we have also received the blessed gift from God.

I've faced the dilemma of having to find a new church several times over my Christian life. The last time was 3 1/2 years ago. Every Sunday morning I would pray, "Okay, Lord, you know I am lost without my church family. Show me today if this is the place where you want me to be." It took about eight Sundays of attending different churches to know where He wanted me to belong. Strangely enough, it was hearing a sermon at a church in Gautier (MS) that spoke to my heart to return to Vancleave Assembly of God (MS) where I had previously visited.

There are no perfect churches just as there are no perfect people (Matthew 19:17). Sometimes we just have to put on blinders and wear ear plugs and hope and pray that we're living right and as close to God as we can, knowing that His Spirit within us will guide and direct our footsteps, thoughts, words, and deeds. When we hear someone saying or doing what we know to be wrong, pray for them that God will speak to their heart and show them their sin. Why? Because if it wasn't for God's grace toward us, we could be that person. It's a scary thing when God shows us our sins and we realize how we've missed the mark ourselves.

Justin, I know you only have an opportunity to attend church a few times in a month because of your schedule but being able to attend as a family, with your wife and children, is something that you will never regret, especially when the children reach that age of displaying a little "rebellion." Believe me, I heard my own sons say, "Well, Dad doesn't go to church so why do we have to?" How do you answer that question? When you are the one taking them to church, you feel more secure in knowing what they are taught and how they are forming their own beliefs about God, Jesus, and Christianity. 

I hope I haven't been too preachy, Justin, but I wanted to have my say when I had time to think about it and when God could direct my words.

God bless you and yours...
Love, Danna

THERE WAS AN OLD WOMAN WHO LIVED IN A SHOE

by Danna Shirley

Writing assignment: Rewrite a nursery rhyme.

Shoes, shoes—everywhere. I might as well live in a shoe for all the shoes I have strewn around me. My poor husband died at his cobbler’s bench putting soles on Mr. Scrooge’s shoes. He died for a few pennies that miserly old man would pay him for the good job he did. Now it is up to me to do his job as well as take care of all these children he left with me.

          Who is that coming down the road so, so slowly?

Uh, oh. Little Bo Peep just passed him by. I can imagine how worn her shoes must be after searching over hill and dale for those lost sheep. I heard she did all the searching for hers as well as that lazy Little Boy Blue who was under a haystack fast asleep.

Here he comes now, a little closer. Hurry, hurry.

Who is that marching down the street beside him. Hurrah! Here they come one by one; marching, marching, marching. I do all I can to keep their little shoes in good order but they just wear them out so quickly. Marching, marching, one by one. Hurrah!

He’s getting closer now. Oh, he’s so slow. He’ll never cross the finish line.

Oh, those mice are so blind. They don’t see anyone else on the road with them. Don’t step on my friends. I know you like to run and run from that farmer’s wife but please do be careful of my little customers. Now what can I do for you three?

I’m so busy, but I need to stop now and feed the children before slow poke arrives.

But wait. There’s a big parade coming down the street? All the king’s men and right behind them all the king’s horses pulling a cart. Poor Humpty Dumpty. He’s all pasted together with glue and scotch tape. My, oh my. I guess they’ve come for a new pair of shoes.

My little friend is almost here. I’ll give him a drink of water after being on that dusty road for so long.

Oh, that Jack. He just quickly bounded ahead of him. He’s so nimble; always jumping over things. It looks like he’s barefooted, too. I heard he burned up his shoes jumping over a candlestick. I hope he’s learned his lesson now.

 He’s almost here. Oh, no. Who just whizzed by me? I could barely see his fluffy white tail. I shouldn’t have sold him those Air Jordans. Now that poor tortoise doesn’t have a chance to win the race!

MY SECOND MOM ~ Gran Shirley

by Danna Shirley

My mother-in-law, Gran, is like a second mother to me. I’m sure when her son brought this heathen Yankee home to Montgomery, AL from California to meet the family she was on her knees by bedtime. I’m thankful her prayers brought me to the cross even though it took twelve long years for her to see that day.

My own childhood spent during summer vacations on my grandparent’s farm in Arkansas did give me some enjoyable memories . . . like gathering eggs, feeding the pigs, trying to milk a cow, and of course using the outhouse (unlike anything I’d ever known). I did have a taste of southern hospitality growing up, but stepping into the Shirley family as a 20-year-old was still a new experience. Accents from both sides kept our ears straining and training to be understood. Gran had a few expressions that were acute to her . . . like asking if Ron and I were out “frolickin” or someone had “made a doctor,” and identifying green beans as “snap beans.” I thought that was a new vegetable I had never heard of before.

In the summertime, evenings were spent sitting around the living room with fans blowing and everyone holding a bowl of peas to shell. Peas were flipped and flying all over the floor. Our thumbs were green and hurt from all the pinching and pulling and shoveling of those little critters but oh, they tasted so good after Gran got them boiling. There’s nothing better than fresh-shelled peas with a slice of bacon swimming in the pot.

Gran learned a few things when she married into the Shirley family, too, like the size of family gatherings; the in-laws, the out-laws, the first, second, and third cousins, and lots and lots of children. Big meals were the norm with fried everything . . . fried chicken, fried okra, fried potatoes, fried corn bread, and gallons and gallons of sweet iced tea. There wasn’t room enough in the kitchen for all the women or room enough on the table for all the food.

A favorite family story is about one of Gran’s biscuits that was used to plug a leaky pipe. They claim it’s there to this day, still doing the job. Gran says her cooking has improved a lot over the years. It had to with all the Shirley men to feed.

Gran has a big heart. Even with her husband, Kline, and three youngest sons still at home (Ken, Jack, and Wayne), her father-in-law, Daddy Jack, came to live with them and then her nephew, Tommy, when her sister, Hazel died. Makeshift bunk beds were built in the dining room, which was the only extra corner in the house, and they stayed up until Tommy left the nest.

When I joined the family, Gran, with only an eighth-grade education, managed a small department store six days a week. I’ve since learned an eighth-grade education in her day is equivalent to a high school education today. She was responsible for opening in the morning, closing at night, ordering and inventory, deposits, and most importantly…reading people! Why? Because in all her years at the store (a co-worker) took only one bad check in the amount of $69.

After a long day on her feet, she would come home to those six men who sat waiting for her to change clothes and cook their dinner. She never complained, never went on strike, always managed and survived. How? Because “the joy of the Lord [was her] strength” (Nehemiah 8:10).  

Now, at 93, Gran is our precious matriarch. She prays over herself every day that her eyes will see, that her ears will hear, and her mind will be sharp and focused. She also prays for the whole family mentioning each one by name every morning and every night . . . her sons and their wives, her grandchildren, and great-grands, plus the needs for others that God lays on her heart.

Her conversations may go around the world but she knows every road and rabbit trail to get her back to the subject at hand.

“So-and-so called. Her son made a preacher. He’s down in Florida now. Has a small church. He married so-and-so. You know, her family was from Glenwood. Her father was the Postmaster for years. We talked for three hours. Had a nice visit . . .”

I just smile. I don’t know any of these people but if Gran wants to tell me their history, that’s just fine with me. I love to hear the story . . . 😊  

Then there was the time she referred to her grandson’s ex as a “bee-ach.” She said it in a whisper, almost as though she was trying to keep God from hearing her. Then she would repent and pray for the woman, the only person I ever heard Gran say a negative word about.

We’ve also seen a humorous side to her in recent years, getting off a few zingers now and then, like the time she announced, “We’ve had a pretty good year, no marriages or divorces so far,” referring to her son who has had both several times.  

She still lives in her three-bedroom home so she’ll have a place for the family to stay when we all swoop in on her for Thanksgiving. We’ve talked about moving to someone else’s home to give her a break but we always seem to wind up at Gran’s anyway. Thanksgiving just wouldn’t be the same unless we all gather together in Luverne, Alabama.

I am so blessed to have this wonderful saint hold my hand, my mother-in-law . . .

      Mary Elois (Tate) Shirley

UNFORGIVENESS

by Danna Shirley

Even as Christians we can hold unforgiveness in our heart. The sad fact is that we know the truth and still will not follow God’s plan for peace.

UNFORGIVENESS . . .

* is like a SCAB being continually picked at over and over again until its infected; never to be healed, never to become new, pink skin, leaving an unsightly scar, which forever is a reminder of the offense.

* is like a MOLDY piece of bread which blackens and crumbles the heart under the weight of it.

* is like a ROTTEN tomato that has been forgotten in the back of the vegetable drawer; only to be retrieved smelly, soggy, and black as it emits its pungent odor of forgottenness.

* is like a BOULDER that has fallen off a cliff and landed on the foot; so heavy it cannot be moved, so painful that relief never comes.

* is like the RANCID smell of death and decay.

This person is to be pitied because the moldy, rotten, heavy, and rancid stench of unforgiveness has taken up residence in their own heart. Their life revolves around forever dwelling on the offence, trying to justify why their unforgiveness is warranted and why they will never give it up, even to the point of death and the grave.  

So how does one convince the unforgiving person there is hope for happiness if they will only release their prey, which sets themselves free as well.  

Consider these questions:  

* Reverse the roles; would they beg to be forgiven and walk in freedom from their sins?"

* Would they bury this debt in order to walk out of the grave and into the light?" 

The ultimate resolution comes from the very mouth of Jesus Christ: 

"For IF you forgive other people when they sin against you, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. But IF YOU DO NOT forgive others their sins, your Father will not forgive your sins." (Matthew 6:14-15 NIV)

I can understand how some issues of unforgiveness can loom larger than others; i.e. the death of a loved one at the hands of a drunk driver verses stealing $20 from someone’s wallet. However, in God's eyes, sin is sin, He does not review the degrees, for we "all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God." (Romans 3:23 NIV)

The only way to satisfy God's verdict is as it would be at any trial; confession, repentance, forgiveness! He looks at each individual on their own merit. He knows their heart even if they don't know it themselves. 

One final question. We will all stand before God and give an account of our life on this earth. When that day arrives, wouldn't you want Him to see your clean hands and pure heart, empty of the dregs of unforgiveness?

SOCCER MOM

by Danna Shirley written about her daughter and granddaughters...

Writing assignment: 
Use the followings words or any form thereof in a story.

Busy     Happy     Sleepy     Diarrhea     Scampered     Corn

How does one settle a blended life . . . work verses family? After earning a Master’s Degree and attaining the top position in a city government agency, how could I then become a stay-at-home mom with two children? The question to be settled now was priorities. What were mine? Being the Director of the Chamber of Commerce or the mother of two beautiful and loving daughters?

The Chamber kept me very busy throughout the day, as well as an occasional night function that required my attendance. I felt I should avail myself of the five years of college and its cost to prove it was worth it and not wasted. The girls deserved the same time and consideration for they would be in my life far longer and beyond any career. I was happy when involved in both but so sleepy and drained at the end of each day. The work kept my mind sharp and challenged in an adult world, but motherhood gave me such love and joy.

When Emma entered Kindergarten and Bella was just two, the extreme struggle between work and family took its toll. Every morning I would commute to the daycare, then work; in the afternoon, back to the daycare, home, cooking, baths, prayers. I was missing out on their everyday lives; little programs at school and field trips to the zoo. Phone calls would inform me that a little boy had pinched Bella and made her bleed; or another child used a marker on Emma’s new dress.

There were also the inevitable contagions that would spread like wildfire through the daycare; diarrhea, vomiting, sore throats, lice, and once there was a piece of corn stuck in Emma’s ear. All too often I was greeted with a crisis at the daycare door as the children scampered to me crying and upset.

My heart swelled with pride not through the job but through the children; when Emma took her first steps and Bella gave me her first smile. I knew my priority had to be to raise these sweet little girls to become loving, caring adults. Anyone could direct the activities of the Chamber but I wanted no one to replace me in the hearts of my children.

My husband and I discussed the possibility of a one-income family and so it was decided; I would quit work and be a stay-at-home mom. I put all of my education and experience into the children and their activities. At their Christian school, I became a room mother, the PTF President, fundraising chairman many times over, helped with numerous events, lunches, and have been an all-around go-to girl for the school and staff. In addition, I drove Mom’s Taxi for morning drop-offs and afternoon pickups at two different campuses, elementary and middle school.  

Eventually I did become the stereotypical Soccer Mom. Not only did my girls play soccer but they also danced, and cheered, ran track, and played baseball; activities in which they could never have participated if I still worked. They wanted to try everything and I was glad to be there through it all . . . the recitals, the practices, the games, the meets, the costumes and uniforms; and definitely was there for the casts (three of them), the ace bandages, and the ice packs.

  My Soccer Mom duties have been a pleasure for all of us. I wouldn’t change my decision for one second and we especially thank my husband and their dad for all his support . . . and checkbook.