Re-Run from 9/11/09: It's Personal.

You know, I hadn't really thought much about writing a blog post this year on 9/11 until a couple of days ago. Last year, I shared these thoughts about defining moments and how the events of September 11 will always be one of those days when we can think back and remember exactly what we were doing at the time.

This morning I've thought a great deal about all of those babies that were born in the days, weeks, and months that followed the attack who had fathers working in those buildings, flying on those planes, or were just working their 12 hour shift and hadn't really planned on getting any big calls that day. These babies are now 2nd graders. For many of their classmates, this day might simply be a date to remember for a US history test one day when they are in high school. Sure, their classmates will see pictures and hear stories but it's something that happened before their time. Kind of like JFK's assassination for me. But for these kids who lost their Daddies before they even got a chance to meet them, it's a different kind of day. It's personal.

This afternoon a college friend will arrive at Bethesda Naval Medical Center. Earlier this week he was seriously injured while proudly serving our country in Afghanistan. He was still in college when the terrorists attacked. No one could have ever predicted just how personal that event would become for him nearly 8 years to the day later. How could his sweet wife who was still years from even meeting him at that point in time have any clue that this defining moment would impact her life so greatly in her future? Today as she waits in Maryland for her husband to arrive back into the United States, it's personal.

It seems that for so long the war in Afghanistan did not have the media coverage that the war in Iraq has had. I'm not here to discuss the war on terrorism (of whatever it's called now) specifically because let's be honest...I'm no Stormin' Norman so I'm not really educated enough to do so. But lately I have noticed more and more headlines. I'm sure much of it has to do with the recent spike in violence and increase in the number of US troop causalities in Afghanistan. The media loves using black and gray to paint grim pictures for us each night on TV. I imagine that another reason why I'm more attuned to the headlines is because I've got a vested interest in matters related to those wearing uniforms for Team USA. It's personal.

The events of September 11 are personal to all of us living in this great land. For the New Yorkers who lived it, witnessed it, and are still haunted by the images associated with that day. For those in D.C. and Pennsylvania, too. For the family members of each and every one of the victims. For the ones who worked in those towers but happened to be running late that day so they survived when many of their co-workers did not. For the college girl who was working her cushy job as a waitress in a little mountain town when she watched one of the towers fall. For Americans who love this country and the principles on which it was founded. It's personal.

I'm certainly not a proponent of dwelling in the past, but I don't believe that remembering that day should be considered as such. The ripples resulting from a senseless act that happened nearly a decade ago are still reaching far and wide across America and will continue to do so into the future. I hope that when we see those pictures that are all too familiar now that we will be reminded to be empathetic to the hurting, thankful for the brave, proud and prayerful for our nation. And that's all I have to say about that.

Guacamole. Even the haters will love it.

I am 72% sure that I love this guacamole. That's saying a lot for the girl who was a hater of the green creamy stuff for years. Today I bring you a quick & easy recipe that is a great addition to your College GameDay menu.


The players:

• Avocados - 3
• Roma Tomatoes - 2
• Lime - 1
• Onion - 1/4 cup
• Cilantro - 3 tbsp.
• Salt - 1 tsp.
• Minced Garlic - 1 tsp.

The play:
[For an added effect, imagine me saying this in a Julia Childs voice with a Southern drawl.]

• Dice the tomatoes. Set aside.
• Next dice the onion. Set aside.
• Then finely chop the cilantro. Set aside.
• Peel the avocados, or whatever it is you do with them [this is where you may begin to suspect that my kitchen prowess is not up to Julia's] and put them in a bowl. RINSE & SAVE 2 of the PITS!
• Add 1 tsp. of salt to the avocado.
• Juice the lime [Really? I need a canine assistance dog to make my way around the kitchen because I just had to ask for help on how to word this step and it still sounds odd.] into the bowl as well.
• Mix and mash together the avocado, salt, and lime juice.
• Add in the tomato, onion, cilantro, and garlic. Stir.
• Finally, stir in the pits. [It keeps the guac from turning a dismal brown, yo.]
  Serve immediately or chill for an hour as you chill for an hour yourself.
• Enjoy.

A few notes, not necessarily of relevance:

• I could easily eat this entire bowl of this stuff.
• Given that garlic, onion, and cilantro is involved, I don't recommend this when tailgating with your crush.
• I never use the full 1/4 cup of onions.
• Nor do I use all 3 tablespoons of cilantro. I just chop some cilantro until I get annoyed with chopping up smelly green leaves. Which is usually after about 12 seconds.
• Sometimes for kicks I'll add an extra tomato. Just because I can.
• Confession: I don't use fresh garlic. Save yourself the time and trouble and embrace the garlic in a jar like I have. Unless Martha Stewart will be at your event. If she is, then I'm not sure why you're coming to me for recipes.
• Props to pal Holly about the pit trick. [How many of you immediately converted to a 9 year old boy and thought of that terrible armpit noise trick we did in elementary school?] I had no idea they helped the finish product remain a lovely green shade for hours and weeks on end.
• I really like blue corn chips with my guacamole. Specifically the Archer Farms blue corn chips that you can get at Target, but I've never really met a blue corn chip I didn't like so I don't discriminate. Might I also recommend eating it by the spoonfuls.
• Please ignore my ugly white counter tops. When I moved to Athens I almost didn't move to this place specifically because of how ugly the kitchen is. And then I remembered the difference between renting and buying. And temporary and permanent. Pretend like they are granite. I certainly do.
• My local grocer, Sam Walton is currently selling avocados for 50 cents each. Even though I much prefer the place where shopping is a pleasure, they think a little more highly of their avocados (1.69 each). It's the falling prices and my endless optimism that I'll capture the perfect photo to make the People of Wal-Mart blog that keeps drawing me back that place.

They are my estate.

"I do not wish to treat friendships daintily but with the roughest courage. When they are real, they are not glass threads or frost work, but the solidest thing we know." -Ralph Waldo Emerson

I have a lot of great stuff. I've seen and done a lot of great things. It all pales in comparison to one of my greatest treasures: girlfriends. We are all created in God's image, but I think that when he was doling out the desire for relationship, we gals got the greater portion. Thank heavens because as much fun as it is to sit in front of the TV and watch the game in complete silence less the occasional grunt and swear word, it's even more enjoyable when chatting with a pal on the phone and even taking a trip to Wal-Mart during half-time all the while remaining on the phone together. [True story, by the way...Georgia-Tennessee]
The bond of friendship between women is quite unique. Men will never understand it, nor should they. There are books, movies, and television shows that try to capture the essence of it. As with most things though, until we actually experience it for ourselves, we can't explain it. And if you're one of the lucky ones to have such relationships with a fav set of gal pals, all the words in the dictionary aren't enough to describe their worth. Especially given that we female types love to talk so much about how we feel. True, genuine, lasting friendships are organic. They cannot be forced or bought...no matter how much your sorority dues might have been.


Girlfriends are the keepers of each others secrets. They are the eyes when one loses sight of her own dreams. They are the masterminds behind our most elaborate plans leaving no stone unturned and not one detail overlooked. Girlfriends are voices of reason when one in the group is stricken with a severe case of laryngitis. They are the first ones we call when our moms, men, or mini-me's have gotten on our very last nerve or hurt us in a way that we never thought possible. They are also the first ones we call when those very same people have caused us sheer joy. Girlfriends are brutally honest with us when we aren't honest with ourselves. They are the ones who fall apart helplessly into a fit of giggles when no one else gets the joke.We begin as little girls sneaking our mamas' make-up and playing with our baby dolls. Somewhere along the way we learn the art of freezing bras and cattiness. Fortunately that stage doesn't last very long, but we still make each other mad when we refuse to leave one of our girls at the home of some boy that we can see straight through even when her vision is clouded. That anger usually subsides as the hangover does. And then suddenly one day, we're all grown up. We buy dresses that we're only going to wear once with that new pair of shoes that we're going to wear once. But it will be a Saturday that we'll never forget so it's worth every dime. Girlfriends visit each other in the hospital to celebrate births and mourn deaths. It's a for better or for worse relationship of its own kind. Paul teaches us in Romans that we are to "rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn." I think this verse sums up quite simply the primary responsibilities of friendship. In the last year and a half, I've done my fair share of both. What comfort in knowing that I wasn't alone. Regardless of their own circumstances, my girls have been right there with me through mine. I want to be more like them. They each have their own unique qualities. Each one loves differently. One is quiet and shows up at the most unexpected yet most appropriate time. Another sees a situation and immediately sets out to repair or improve it. One listens to me talk and then speaks when she knows I'm ready to listen. Another I can call at 11:45 at night because I know that she's still awake too. I could continue, but the point I'm making in those examples is to illustrate that God's design is evident even in the dynamics of my girls. When He put them into my life whether it be when I was 5 or 19 or 25, I had no idea what was beyond Hickory Flat Elementary, Phi Mu formals, or my twenties. But God did. And he knew that I would need them all along the way. Inevitably the dynamics of such friendships will change as a result of time, distance, and circumstance. Some strengthen while others weaken, but they all have their place. There is comfort in knowing that not only are there a select few who know your history, they are a part of it. They are my estate, indeed.

[August was a friend-filled month. To see more of my shenanigans with some of my favorite people, hop on over here.]

Soundtrack.

Have I ever mentioned that when I'm in my car I constantly scan the stations for a sweet beat? Well, I do. It's either that or send text messages, and we all know how that got ixnayed during the last legislative session. I'm completely bored with creating this week's list already which is a bad sign since I haven't even begun yet. Here goes nothing...

Heartless by Kanye West. Ok, before you go all Taylor Swift supporter on me, is the recent radio version a little bit different than the original? A remix of some sort? Or have I just never really listened closely enough because I was too busy changing the station? It seems to me that there is a little bit of a bass line [look at me trying to use musical terms that are probably out of context] that reminds me of a Phil Collins' song? Speaking of which...

In the Air Tonight by Phil Collins. How in the sam hill did I leave Phil out of my tribute to the English last week? Please forgive me. I'm a fan indeed. This song makes me want to date a drummer. A cool, rock and roll drummer with an edgy wardrobe and tattoos. Not a drum major drummer.

In Color by Jamey Johnson. I don't know why I love this song, but I do. You should too. If it doesn't make you want to go and listen to your grandpa ramble on about his youth then nothing will.

I'm Not Afraid by Eminem. Shady's back, folks. Maybe he never left for some of you, but in the event that he did please just roll with his return. I've certainly chosen to do so.

Take It Off by Ke$ha. Yes, she's ridiculous. Nonetheless this song just makes me want to go to the nearest discotechque and dance the night away. Likely though, I'll just continue to move my shoulders back in the forth as I'm driving down the road. It's hip to be square.

All These Things That I've Done by The Killers. I had kind of forgotten about this song, but it was on the radio yesterday on my way home so I called for a temporary cease scan. I got soul but I'm not a soldieeeeeeeeeeerrr. Isn't that part of the song exceptionally fun to sing along with? And while we're taking it back to 2006...

Heart in a Cage by The Strokes. It's only fitting that I feature this one since I've been jonesing for an edgy drummer for at least 30 minutes now.

Seven Spanish Angels by Willie & Ray. If you don't know who Willie and Ray are by first name alone please know that you have my deepest sympathies. Can anyone out there give me a good reason why Willie cut his braids? Granted, I can only imagine the things growing in those braids. I'm sure there's a hair dresser in the world somewhere though who needs the work and will gladly maintain those things. Especially if ol' Willie offers said hair dresser a little something else that happens to be growing...in his aquarium....on his tour bus.

Seven Bridges Road -The Eagles version. I've never known a toe not to tap anytime this song is playing. If you think this selection of songs is completely random, you obviously haven't heard my CD that has a little Third Day mixed in between Nine Inch Nails and Dr. Dre.

Where We Belong by Hillsong. Not to be confused with Up Where We Belong as performed by Joe Cocker [Snaps to Joe for somehow managing to make it into my list for the 3rd week in a row] and Jennifer Warnes. For a little Ragamuffin like me this song serves as a mighty tall reminder that I'm covered in grace and love. Every single minute of every single day. Until the seven Spanish angels carry me home. Where I belong.

You stay classy, blogosphere.

Things That Me Go "Hmmm".

We all have them. Here is a sampling of my current ones.

The song "If I Die Young" by The Band Perry. Have y'all heard it? It's bizarre. The video? Bizarre. The fact that I made a point of discussing it? Bizarre.

Jeggings. I sent a text to my pal Val this weekend that said something to the effect of "I believe that I will be the owner of jeggings before it's all said and done." Sigh. Even though I am of the whole honey-just-because-they-make-it-in-your-size-doesn't-mean-you-should-wear-it belief, I think it's just going to be easier this season if I embrace the trend and get some jeggings to wear with my UGGs and cowboy boots as opposed to my skinny jeans. Primarily because the skinny jeans in my closet are no longer skinny enough. I suppose I could opt for chocolate chip cookies instead.

How my personal email account is sending random spam emails to folks in my address book. If you have fallen victim, yeah...well...sorry. Whatever you do, don't click on the link because you and I both will probably explode or even worse, cause a breach of security that will make bank systems fail worldwide. [Looks like someone watched a few too many cop dramas over the long weekend.]

My ability to waste time. I don't know how I do it, but I'm a champ.

Cash, the Wonder Lab's bottom front teeth. They are tiny. Honestly, I thought he must have broken them chewing on a bone or something. As it turns out, they are his puppy teeth. He was born without permanent bottom teeth. It looks great with his graying face. I should mention that he's 2. What a pedigree.

Ke$ha.

Inception. Seriously, my brain hurt after I watched it this weekend.

The latest fall fashion trend of blinged out camo. I wish I were kidding. I'm no Jaclyn Smith, but it seems to me that one could simply create this style at home and save mega-bucks if you just get a large camo t-shirt (the one in your husband's closet will suffice), get the bedazzler down from the attic, go a little crazy with the fake jewels from Hobby Lobby, and cinch the finished project with a belt.

And last but not least...

My personal thoughts on how stick figure families on the back glass of cars provide a perfect way for the kidnappers to inventory children aside, do these people really have 13 dogs? Hmmm.

My Type.

If you came here today expecting my take on all things tall, dark, and handsome, I am sorry to report that you are in for a huge disappointment. It's not that I don't like the tall, dark, and handsome fellas, it's just that my love life is something I prefer to keep off the internet. Oh, I'm hilarious.

Now, there is my blood type. That makes for an interesting conversation. Well, interesting for those enrolled at the local technical college in the phlebotomy program. I'm AB-. The rarest blood type in all the land, ladies and gents. Hmmm, I wonder if I could have a side show act with a traveling circus? And if so, could my booth be next to the bearded lady's? For real though, that is my blood type and it is the most rare. 1 out of 100 donors are AB-. And it's not just that we're greedy with our blood. Listen to me rambling on. I didn't come here today to discuss my blood type either because that's just plain weird.

I'm here to talk about the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator (MBTI). For psychology geeks like me, taking these types of personality inventories are as entertaining as a Friday night at the movies. Speaking of Friday night at the movies, might I recommend that you save your money and not go see Going the Distance when it opens this weekend. I can tell you how it ends if you really care to know. I digress. Back when I was in college, we did these crazy personality type tests all the time in the name of higher education. Some may argue that an undergraduate degree is psychology is about as useful as a high school varsity letter in chorus, and personally I couldn't agree more. It's just that I know all the "official" terms for what everyone else refers to as common sense.

For those of you who aren't privvy to all things MBTI, I'll provide a brief explanation. Relax, it's not 5:00 yet, how else are you going to pass the time? The inventory is divided into 4 components.

1. Where you focus your attention: Extraversion or Introversion

2. The way you take in information: Sensing or Intuition

3. The way you make decisions: Thinking or Feeling

4. How you deal with the outer world: Judging or Perceiving

Since I'm boring myself to tears, I'll go ahead and get to the moment we've all been waiting for which is the big reveal of my type in case you forgot the point of this whole post in the first place.

ISFJ. That's me. In college I was an ESFJ. Apparently in my old age, I've become more introverted. Now before you go start thinking that I'm going to become the kooky old lady with cats, introverts are not the same as recluses. I like to think it was all those years as an only child that made me that way. It didn't take me long to figure out that no matter how much I talked to my stuffed animals, they weren't going to talk back.

Here's the skinny. ISFJ is the most common "type" of females in the United States. So much for being one of a kind. ISFJ's are loyal, quiet, cooperative and supportive. We like to think about something and process it internally and consider all sides before making a decision. But once we make up our mind about something, we stick with it. It's alright though because we make our decisions, we also take the time consider whether or not anyone will be hurt as a result of them. We want the facts and just the facts, man. We love a good plan. We hate conflict and try to avoid it. Hmmm. Clearly this inventory has me all wrong. I wonder that if there was an inventory for sarcasm, how would I measure?

Each of the 4 components is measured on a scale ranging from zero to 30. I'm pretty moderate in the first three. Judging is where I really show my true colors. I am a 27. Now before you get all worked up and think that I'm judgmental, hold your horses. This is the component that says that folks who sway to the judging side tend to like a planned and organized approach to life and wish to have things settled. They also like to have some control and set limits. [Pffft. What weirdos.] The other side of the spectrum, perceiving, is where the folks that love to fly by the seat of their pants like to live. Don't get me wrong, I'm always up for a surprise. As long as it's a good one. And fits nicely into my overall grand plan. Speaking of grand plan, have I mentioned lately that I no longer have one? Which I happen to believe is all a part of another J's plan. If you know who I mean.

Soundtrack: English Invasion Edition

[Yes, I know in real-life it's referred to as the British invasion, but I'm only focusing on England. So there.]

Remember how last week I wanted to change my original post idea all because of that one Joe Cocker song that I heard on America's Got Talent? How was I so influenced by the likes of Howie Mandel and Sharon Osborne, I wonder? I had no idea that Joe Cocker is from the land that doesn't take tea ice cold and full of sugar [apparently I thought he was from The Bible Belt] In my mind all English musicians have the same hair cuts or long tongues or wear funky sunglasses. If not for the Beatles, the Stones, or Sir Elton, I might not even know that there was such a place as England. Oh, I kid. You'll notice that there's nary a mention of the three aforementioned performers on my actual list this week. It's because I just couldn't decide on one song for each of them. How could I with the Elton John box set in my closet? Oh, I kid, again. I've never owned an Elton John box set. Or any box set for that matter. Box set? Who has those anymore? Do you want to come over later and watch home movies on the Betamax?

I like to think of this week's selection as being fit for a queen.

You Can Leave Your Hat On by Joe Cocker. I've talked about Joe Cocker enough during the last week. I'm not saying anything else about him. Ever. But on another note, did you know Randy Newman wrote this song? As in the guy who does all the Toy Story songs. Weird.

Son of a Preacher Man by Dusty Springfield. Apparently that son of a preacher man didn't teach her well enough given her preference for the ladies.

Simply Irresistible by Robert Palmer. In the days before I wanted to be a dancer for Justin Timberlake's tour, I wanted to be one of those girls in this video. Me thinks those 2 years of ballet/tap combo class won't carry me as far as I had hoped.

Brass in Pocket by The Pretenders. You know how sometimes you can look at people and their name doesn't really suit them? Well, that's how I feel about this song and its name.

Going to California by Led Zeppelin. It's only fitting that I include a little Led Zeppelin given the family connection and all. Not to mention that I. Love. This. Song.

Little Lion Man by Mumford & Sons. Despite the fact that the Fred Sanford theme song pops into my head every single time I see this group's name, I love their music. Co-worker Erin introduced me to them a couple of weeks ago and I've been hooked since. I suspect you will be too. But you don't have to take my word for it.

Pictures of You by The Cure. Another college favorite. Period. Dot.

Right to Be Wrong by Joss Stone. I guess we all have the right to be wrong. I exercise mine quite frequently.

Bittersweet Symphony by The Verve. I do love these lyrics. But what I love even more is Justin Timberlake standing on stage in his white t-shirt and jeans after his concert waving goodbye to everyone as this song is playing in the background. Yep. It all goes back to JT. Always. It's a sickness really but it's ok because not only can the boy sing and dance, he is just plain funny.

'Til Kingdom Come by Coldplay. Fact: This song was written for Johnny Cash. He and Apple's dad were going to do a little collaboration. Unfortunately before it happened, Kingdom came for Johnny.

Soundtrack: Home Grown Edition.

I was all set to do my "Home Grown" edition of the soundtrack segment for this week, but then I heard some guy perform a Joe Cocker song on America's Got Talent last night and was torn between my original idea for this week or completely scrapping it for a new theme. Then I remembered that there is next Wednesday [if time stands] so I'll stick with the original theme today. I do just love a good theme. My [future] children will have themed birthday parties, Halloween costumes, and first day of school outfits until I send them to college...and beyond. Oh how lucky they will be to have me for their mom!

My state has contributed greatly to the development of society. Without Georgia, there wouldn't be Coca-Cola, Chick-fil-A, Waffle House...maybe it's just contributed greatly to the expanding waistlines of society. But there is also Delta, Home Depot, UPS, the CDC, and the very first US Gold Rush happened in a little mountain town very near and dear to my heart. Whew, I feel better now. It just so happens that Georgia is home to some pretty a-ok musicians. Even before Elton and Justin Beiber moved to town. So here is my Top 12 (two bonus!) for the week. As with all of my play lists, I'm fickle about favorites.

Night Time is the Right Time by Ray Charles. Seriously, did you think I was going to say Georgia on My Mind? I'll play my "trite" card elsewhere, thank you. Why do I love this Ray Charles song? Primarily because I love Heathcliff & Rudy Huxtable's rendition of this song.

As She's Walking Away by the Zac Brown Band featuring Alan Jackson. Double the Georgia boy fun with this one song!

These Arms of Mine by Otis Redding. Quick. Anybody know what movie this was in? It's one I always associate with my childhood even though I'm not certain the content was completely appropriate for a slumber party with 8 year old girls.

Romeo and Juliet by the Indigo Girls. Oh, Romeo...I think I used to have a scene with him. Amy Ray sightings when I lived in Dahlonega were almost as common as Michael Stipe sightings in Athens. Except I've never actually seen Michael Stipe. I usually just had to look to my left or right anytime I went to the gym in Dahlonega and ol' Amy was right there on the elliptical machine. Speaking of Michael Stipe...

Low by REM. Y'all ready to get low? It was the first middle school basketball game of the season during my 7th grade year...November 22 to be exact [sweet goodness, my memory is an anomaly]. Hans Preigel [the boy who sat beside me or behind me in basically every single class and whose locker was right above mine] died after getting hit by a car when he was walking from the game to...somewhere. In Chorus class the next Monday our teacher let us listen to whatever music we wanted to. Someone brought this and we played it over. And over. And over. It was alright though because everybody hurts sometime.

ATLiens by OutKast. Atlanta isn't the Hip-Hop Capital of the Wur-uld because we ATLiens love our muzak. Even though I do wonder if we'll lose that title now that Neal Boortz and friends have replaced Murph Dog & CJ in the morning.

Everchanging World by Shawn Mullins. Yes, Shawn Mullins. But this is old Shawn Mullins. Just out of North Georgia College Shawn Mullins before he started singing lullabies.

Midnight Train to Georgia by Gladys Knight & The Pips. Wow. I wonder what happened once they actually got to Georgia. Would she still rather live in his world than live without him in hers?

The Truth by Jason Aldean. After grad school, maybe I'll head out on the road with some old rock and roll band and live like a gypsy king...er, queen, for a little while. Sounds fun.

Straight to Hell by Drivin n' Cryin. What a fun sing along song. And no, my mama has never said that I was headed straight there. Because I'm not. I'll bet there's not any honeysuckle blue there either.

Keep Your Hands to Yourself by The Georgia Satellites. This was totally in the Saturday Night Dance Party Mix at my house. Little did I know that while dancing my cares away as an 8 year old, my parents were also educating me on the benefits of virtue. It was damage control for letting me watch Dirty Dancing, I suppose.

Love by Sugarland. This song is powerful. It gives me chills. It makes me cry. But in a good way. Kind of like love does.

On Becoming a Jolly Beggar.

The very first year that I was a Brownie Girl Scout, my mama and daddy bought 50 boxes of cookies. Good thing those cookies really do freeze well or else I would have weighed 95 pounds as a 2nd grader. Why did they buy 50 boxes of cookies? Other than that it was simple from the accounting standpoint (50 boxes at $2 bucks each = 1 Benjamin) and my mama can put away Samoas like a 300 pound man (Hi, Mom!), I needed to sell a certain number of boxes in order to get the patch for cookie sales that year. Believe me, it was critical. Not having a "Cookie Sales 1986" patch on my Brownie sash was like being marked with the scarlet letter in a Puritan village in 1846. What a great example of the ridiculous things loving parents do for their children. Back to a modified version of my original question: Why did my parents buy 50 boxes of cookies so that I would get that coveted cookie patch? Simple: I didn't want to ask anyone to help me. In my simple 6-year old mind, perhaps I thought that somehow I would be able to do it on my own, but my parents knew better. They let me do it my way and when it didn't work, they were right there to my rescue.

Fast forward a few years. Specifically to a couple of weeks ago when a friend and I were at Panera catching up over coffee discussing love, life, and other mysteries. When I got to the end of my update, she sat there with tears in her eyes and said "I have no idea what to say to you. Usually I'm the one telling you about my life and when I get to the end, you tell me what I need to do next or how to fix it." Yep. That's me. The thinker. The fixer. The doer. The girl who can step back from a situation, assess it, and make it right. Even keel, clear thinking, and in control with everything in order. And if you're wondering, as a matter of fact, I do take my humble pie a la' mode.

I think that Kelly Clarkson's song "Miss Independent" was written about me. [Her follow-up hit "Miss Egocentric" might have been about me as well.] As with most personality traits, my independence can be both a blessing and a curse. It's a blessing because I can change a headlight, check my oil, and put air in my tires just as well as someone with the Y-chromosome. It's a curse because admitting that I need help with something or can't do something myself is as painful as it might be to floss my teeth with fishing line.

It really isn't hard to see where this is going now is it? Just like my 6-year old self, my 30ish-year old self loves to do things my way. On my own.

Do y'all remember the game "King of the Mountain"? Well, let's just say that a few months ago I was dethroned. For the first time in my adult life I was left without a plan. Not having a plan rendered me incapable of making even simple decisions. I would forget even the most basic things. One day I forgot part of my outfit...We'll leave it at that. I was a mess. And I hated every single minute of it. Sleeping? Couldn't do it. Eating? Couldn't do it. And those are two hobbies that I enjoy the most.

My hands were tied. I had been cruising down life's highway just fine going my own way and suddenly that way wasn't good enough anymore. I had encountered a road block of epic proportions with no signal on the GPS. So what did I do? I asked for help. I prayed for sleep and for my appetite to return. I was brought to the point of complete and total dependence for even the simple stuff. It was uncomfortable. I was kicking and screaming the whole way (figuratively speaking, of course...my mama and daddy might have bought 50 boxes of cookies, but they would not stand for a child who threw tantrums), but God was faithful in even those simple things. Now, the fuller my tummy gets, the heavier my eyelids become. Finally, I realized that it would be much easier if I just surrendered my way and decided to go with God's way. So I cried Mercy and who was right there to my rescue? My Heavenly Father.

Recently I just finished reading [again] Philip Yancey's "What's So Amazing About Grace?" I could write from now until tomorrow about all of the goodness to found between the cover of this book, but it's the last chapter that I especially like for the purpose of this post. In it, Yancey discusses Simone Weil's conclusion that two great forces rule the universe: gravity and grace. Gravity leads us to believe that we can make it on our own and it is grace that corrects that belief. As in, when we are knocked down off of our high horse, maybe it's a good thing. CS Lewis said that "grace substitutes a full, childlike and delightful acceptance of our need, a joy in total dependence. We become 'jolly beggars'."

What?!? A beggar? And one who is jolly? Impossible. That was my first thought. I've never seen a panhandler after a Braves game with a smile on his face. But it's the source of dependency that determines if we are jolly beggars or beggars chained down in bondage. God loves it when we depend completely on him. When we come to him broken to bits with cracked little hearts, it's those cracks that are filled with grace. When we accept that we are weak and He is strong (hello...we all sang the song in VBS), that is when we will grow. I've got a lot of growing to do. And not the kind that results from eating Girl Scout cookies.

Operation New Dawn.

I don't know about you, my 3 readers, but it seems to me that a few copies of the Twilight Saga have been floating around the war room.

Operation New Dawn. That's what we're calling the goings on in Iraq these days because word on the street is that the major combat operations in Iraq have come to a close. Or that the last US combat brigade has withdrawn from Iraq. ...I don't make the news, I just read it.

I remember exactly what I was doing on March 20, 2003. I was glued to my television watching a war unfold before my eyes just as I had been in the days and weeks leading up to the whole Shock and Awe campaign. As I sit here today over 7 years later, my mind is flooded with all sorts of images. (Thank you Life magazine archives for the photog.)

Not really. I have just always really loved this picture. Instead, I think about news footage that showed that statue of Saddam toppling down, the faces of those first POWs, the pictures in the forwarded emails with Soldiers sleeping in those dug out dirt hole things (Oh my word at the technical speak I'm using today), the American flags lining the Drill Field at North Georgia with one representing each student out of classes for the semester because he or she is serving our country, and pictures of my friends and their children as they send their fearless leader (aka, husband and daddy) off to war or as they welcome him back home. Those are the kinds of images that I'm thinking about today.

I know I've discussed this before on more than a few occasions. But honestly, I don't think it's a topic that can be discussed enough. When I think about war generations, I still think about WWII and Vietnam. Not my generation. But it is my generation. The war has always been a little more personal to me given my North Georgia pride. It seems to me that when you know some of the people participating, it makes you appreciate everyone on the team that is doing the work a little bit more as well as the cause. Or maybe that's just me. I hope not though. When I work with students now who have delayed their own college education because they love their country enough to do so, I have utmost respect for them. I see young men who have traded some innocence along with the freedom of lazy afternoons and weekends as a college student for doses of reality that some of us will never know. And it's because of them that we don't know.

It's important for us to remember that it's still not over in Iraq. Progress? Yes. Completion? Not quite. It's important for us to remember the men and women in Afghanistan.

It's important for us to not only remember them but to appreciate them as well.

There are multiple ways to show your appreciation. A good-old fashioned "Thank You" is a start. This one is kind of fun too though.

[Edited to add: It's important for my OCD not to get the best of me because I have been trying for 10 minutes to get the spacing of the last half of this post to publish correctly!]