Sometimes Heroes Wear Pocket Protectors

November 8, 2018

We all know that heroes come in all shapes and sizes. Some stand out in the crowd. Some blend in with the crowd. I’ve been blessed to know a few of these heroes in my life. One hero in particular didn’t wear a cape or have fancy armor, he had a pencil-pocket protector, a quick wit, a warm smile, and a heart as big as I’ve ever seen. 

I met Jim Bushong in June of 1992. I was almost a senior in high school and was on my way to Louisville, KY to run for a National VICA office. I got on a bus in Abingdon with a few other students from southwest Virginia, and I did not have a clue of where I was going or what exactly what I was supposed to do. I was told that I would only be on the bus “alone” for about an hour and that when the bus stopped in Dublin, there would be a teacher get on the bus that would help me and would know what to do. Few truer words were ever spoken to me.

Just as I had been told, a little over an hour after we left Abingdon, we pulled into Dublin. I still didn’t know what to expect when this little fella hopped on the bus, put his things down in the front seat and announced, “I’m Jim Bushong. I am the drafting teacher at Botetourt, and I will be your bus chaperone for the next week. Everywhere we go, you all will be with me. Now, where’s that little Carbary gal from Washington County?” I liked Jim immediately! He told me what to expect and not to worry about a thing, that he would be there to help me all week. And he was. He truly was. From guiding me through the formalities of the trip to giving me pep talks before I had to give a speech, to pulling me aside when I was very unsure of myself and putting an arm around my shoulder and saying, “Ok now, Carbary, this is how it is...” and he’d launch into some of the best ‘pick-me-up’ talks that I’ve ever had. From that first meeting on, Jim was my “bus dad.” I was fortunate enough that year as a national officer that I got to work with and learn from Jim. And enjoy many more of those pep talks.

After I graduated high school, I only got to see Jim once in a while - mainly when my schedule would allow me to come help out with VICA and then SkillsUSA. When I started teaching in 2006, Jim was one of the first people I reached out to. In typical Jim fashion, he told me not to worry about a thing and sent a big envelope full of drawings, worksheets, and information to me to help me start that first year. When I saw him again for the first time in Roanoke in 2008, it was as if no time had passed - he literally still looked the same and we picked up right where we’d left off. When I decided to run for president-elect of VATIE, my bus-dad was there for me again, coaching, and telling me what to expect - or telling me what I was getting myself into. The only difference this time around, was when Jim put his arm around my shoulder, this time he said, “Now, Smith, this is how it is...” I’ve been fortunate enough that for the last 6+ years, I got to work with ‘the master.’ Learn from him. And marvel at the deals he made and all of the people that he knew.

To 16 year-old me, and yes, to 43 year-old me, Jim has been one of my heroes. He was one of those people who never met a stranger, was eager to teach all he knew, was a natural encourager, and had a great big heart! Jim was such an amazing role model and mentor. He touched so many lives - from students to adults - over his 40+ years in education, that those of us who have looked up to him can only hope to accomplish a fraction of the good works that Jim did. He had faith that could move mountains. He had an infectious smile, laugh, and zest for life.

Jim passed away this past Tuesday. Heaven got a little brighter and the world got a little dimmer. His family and those of us who got to share him with them, will say good-bye to him tomorrow. It is going to be one of the hardest good-byes that I’ve ever had to make, but I can say it knowing that I’ll see Jim again one day. And while one of my heroes wore a pocket protector instead of a cape and his super powers were encouraging, leading, guiding, supporting, and teaching instead of flying or seeing through walls, I’m beyond thankful for knowing Jim and for the impact and difference that he made in my life. There is so much more that I could say about Jim, but honestly, I don’t know if I could find the words to do it justice. I’ll close in saying that we will most definitely miss you, Jim, and we promise to do our best to keep your legacy going. 

Thank you, Jim, for being a hero!

A Real Life Love Story

June 23, 2018

I am a sap for love stories. A good book, a great movie, you name it. I love the happy endings. I love when boy meets girl, they overcome an obstacle, and they live happily ever after. One of my favorite stories is "The Notebook" by Nicholas Sparks. I've often wondered if there was truly such a story. The true love between a man and wife. A love that spanned the decades, overcame hardships and trials, even the confusion and loss of dementia. It didn't take me long to realize that I've seen one of those true love stories my entire life. It comes from watching my parents, who today, are celebrating 60 years of Marriage!

                        

 

Mom and Dad's relationship didn't have the Hollywood drama in it that Noah and Allie had in "The Notebook," but the love; that true, deep, stands-the-test-of-time love is definitely there. Mom and Dad met when they were both in high school at Bethel High School off of Route 58 toward Damascus. They were both "seeing" other people when they met, but from all I can tell of talking to both of them and hearing stories of their relationship, Daddy was very smitten with the oldest little Jackson girl, and Momma was the same with the oldest Carbary boy. Momma even told me recently that when she saw Daddy for the first time, she thought he was cute! They dated for a couple of years before they married. Both were just seventeen. Dad had just graduated from Bethel - Class of 1958! Dad's parents knew that he and mom were sneaking away to the courthouse and then to the preacher's house on June 23, 1958, but Mom's parents did not. After their elopement, Mom's mother - my Granny Margaret - didn't take the news very well. I think she thought they were too young and needed to live a little. She threw a fit and wouldn't let Mom get any of her things. Mom and Dad lived with Dad's parents where Mom had to wear my Granny Gladys' clothes for a little more than a week, until my Granny Margaret calmed down and my PapPaw S.L. convinced her to let Momma get her clothes. The family laughs about that story now, but I imagine for Mom and Dad, it was very nerve wracking until emotions settled down. They knew that they loved each other and that they were going to be together and they made that happen despite the consequences.

Their first home was a ten foot by twenty-eight Their first home was a ten foot by twenty-eight foot trailer. I can't imagine living in something that small, but they made it work for the first few years. They eventually moved into a little house just down the street from both sets of parents (they always referred to this house as "the little house"). They lived there until 1972 when they finished construction on their new house on Panacella Drive in Abingdon. We lived there until 1985 when we relocated to Rhea Valley. Their first "child" came in the form of a little black and white Boston Terrier named Edgar. They had him from 1960 until he died in 1969. Robbie was born in 1969 and then I came along in 1975.

Mom always made the house a home. She was a stay-at-home Mom, or a homemaker as we used to say. She worked for Harwood in Abingdon for a little while in the late 60's, she did seamstress work for Maxine's in Abingdon and for others that she knew, she babysat, and she cleaned some houses but her full-time job was taking care of all of us - a job that she did wonderfully by the way! Dad always worked hard to provide for Mom and for us. After they were first married, he helped his Dad in construction and worked on cars. At some point, he even owned Interstate Gulf Service Station in Abingdon for a time. In 1964, Dad joined the Army Reserves and had to spend six months in Fort Dix, NJ (to my knowledge, this was the longest time they were ever apart their whole married life). Dad worked for Raytheon and then Sundstrand. On the side, he did odd jobs such as fixing and selling bicycles, mowing yards, and even becoming a licensed locksmith. Dad sold insurance for Mutual of Omaha and Woodmen of the World, and from stories I've heard them tell, there was a time that he even sold vacuum cleaners door-to-door. For many years he was the maintenance man for the Washington County Department of Social Services. And, in the early 80's, Dad decided he wanted to become a full-time preacher in the United Methodist Church. Dad preached part-time and worked for Social Services until 1992 when he received his first full-time appointment. Dad preached until he/they retired in 2010. He even received his Associates Degree in Human Services from Virginia Highlands Community College in 1995 - all while working full-time. Throughout every job change, Dad was always striving to take care of his family and Mom was always right there beside him, helping him, supporting him, and keeping the home and all of us on track. Where one was, so was the other!

Through the years they had their struggles. They had a few sicknesses, some pretty big losses, some hardships, and lots of sacrifices, but that never changed their love for each other or for family. If they ever fought, we never heard it. If their finances were difficult, we never knew there was a problem. Did we have the finest of everything? No, but what we had was the best because they made it that way for us. We never went without. They didn't always have it easy, but they always had each other. When times got rough, neither of them gave in, threw in the towel, or walked away. Love brought them together and that love and their faith in God has kept them strong and steady through everything.

Both are now struggling with Dementia. There are times when Mom can't understand what is wrong with Dad, or she can't understand what he is saying. There are times when Dad can't communicate to her the way he once did. But, when they really look at each other, or they hold each other's hand, you can see the love and the comfort that they give to each other. They are each other's rock and source of comfort. It's not unusual to go visit with them and see her standing beside his chair or sitting beside his bed holding his hand or rubbing his harm. It's also not unusual, if she's not touching him, to see Dad reaching out to pat her on the shoulder or to pat her arm. And if he looses sight of her, he'll call out, "Hey, Mom," or "Hey, Patsy," until he can get to where he can see her or she comes to check on him. Where one is, so is the other, just like it's been for 60 years now. That bond, that love that they share, it is so strong that it even conquers the confusion and isolation of Dementia.

In a visit with them this past weekend, I asked them if they ever thought that they would be married for 60 years. Dad had dozed off in his recliner, so he didn't answer, but Mom, at first, she giggled and said, "No." Then, she thought for a moment and said, "Yes, I did. We made a promise when we got married and we meant to keep it!" I know that beyond a shadow of a doubt they truly are the shining example of what a real marriage is supposed to be. I was told once that I lived a fairy-tale life because my parents never divorced, and I suppose to some, maybe that is the case, and I'm totally ok with that kind of fairy-tale. I'd rather have watched their example and experienced their love more than anything else! This is just a short summary of their story, and I know my words don't truly do justice to their relationship, but I think this real version, this Real Life Love Story, that I've witnessed my entire life is far better than the book or the movie that I mentioned earlier!

So, Happy 60th Anniversary Mom and Dad (Bob and Patsy)!!! Thank you for your example and may God continue to bless your love!!

Just Use the Damn China

12/11/2017

I don’t know if it is age that has caused me to slow down a bit and take notice of certain things, or if it is the experiences that I’ve had over the last few years, or, for that matter, a combination of the two, but something has finally changed in my way of thinking and I thought it worthy of sharing with others.

I do remember a time in my life when everything didn’t seem so rushed. I remember during my first “real” job, by the time I got home, it felt like a really long time until time to go to bed - and I was actually getting home later then than I do now. I also remember taking time to do different things. To try new restaurants and foods, to have a new experience of some sort, to just enjoy and appreciate the simple things in life. I am not sure when that changed for me. Life during the week has become a series of get up, go to work, come home, do the chores, fix dinner, clean up kitchen, go to bed, then repeat the next day. By Friday, I’m dragging and cranky and Saturday and Sunday are usually spent trying to catch up on things that weren’t done during the week and somehow in there rest, relax, and decompress so I am prepared when Monday comes rolling around to do it all over again. There never seems to be time for slowing down or enjoying things, at least not like I used to.

This year has been quite tumultuous. From normal ups and downs, to bouts of emotion and uncertainty, and everything in between. But, like most valleys in our lives, this one has caused me to pause. Pause long enough to appreciate little moments. Where I used to get frustrated when driving (not saying that I don’t anymore because there seems to be a bunch of nuts with driver’s licenses out there), but now, I try to remind myself that traffic is going slow for a reason. That there is some purpose to me not being able to drive as fast and as hard as I usually would. Sometimes I struggle with this, and I suppose I always will, but, it’s at least progress in slowing down. It has also caused me not to be the aggressive driver that I once was, hopefully preventing a stupid accident because of my stupid driving. And it’s also allowed me to notice scenery in our area that is beautiful that I’d never taken time to appreciate!  I now take the time to appreciate the color and beauty of a sunrise or a sunset. To stop and watch the deer as they munch on the grass around our place. To appreciate the blue of the sky and the whisps of the clouds in it. Some days, this is harder than others, but, to be still for just a moment and watch, is totally worth it. I take time to enjoy time with my animals. The sweetness of kissing a horse’s nose, being nuzzled by an affectionate kitty cat, being pounced upon by an overjoyed dog, being “Eee Awed” at by a silly donkey begging for treats, even being pecked by a chicken happy to see me, well, it just don’t get any better than that. And after all the funk and the fakeness and stress that the rest of the world seems to be full of, the pureness of the love of an animal seems to clean up a lot of junk! I take time to appreciate hanging out with my husband. He is my best friend and I thoroughly look forward to coming home to him every day and sharing my day with him, or just being together. We don’t have to do anything special to make a moment special and worthwhile. And that my friends, is the beauty of love and marriage! I take time to appreciate my parents a little more too. That I still have them and can go hug them and see them, even with the difficulties that they have, that’s huge. Every moment, good or bad, is so important and they are moments that I cherish and will hold dear, always. I take time to appreciate my family. Without them, through some of the craziness of this year, I don’t know what I would have done. Family is precious and family doesn’t have to be the kind you’re born into. Family is sometimes those who choose to be part of your life when you need them the most, when things aren’t pretty and they love you anyway. Family can be related to you by blood or by choice.

All of these things, and I guess the events of this year, got me to thinking, and I’m sure you’re wondering by this point in my post what in the world all this has to do with fancy dishes. Well, I’m getting to that point, just hang on. My Granny Carbary, was an interesting little lady. We used to joke in the family about what one of us needed for Christmas or for Granny’s birthday, because if we got her something, she’d inevitably give it back to one of us, or she’d pack it away in a drawer to save it and not use it. She was saving it for a special occasion, or something to that effect. I think in our lives anymore, we’re saving so much for a special occasion, but we’re not making time for those special occasions to happen. Those special occasions should happen every day that we’re blessed to draw breath. We shouldn’t need a special dinner in order to use the fancy dishes. Break those suckers out of the china cabinet and use them! Enjoy them! They weren’t meant to be stashed away and only used for Thanksgiving dinner. And if you break one, it’s ok - not the end of the world. Put that pretty tablecloth on the table and enjoy it. So what if you spill something on it - it’s a sign that it was used and enjoyed. Use the “good sheets” that you only save for special company coming over. Put the “good towels” out and use those too. Don’t “hoard-up” all of those “special things,” only to wake up one day and have regrets. Or worse, leave those “special things” for someone else to clean out of your house and not have any memories of you ever using it. “Things” are just that - things. “Things” break, wear out, tear up, and even decay. “Things” do sometimes hold memories for us, or rather us remembering those things brings up good thoughts of a specific time or person. But “things” are just that, they’re “things” and do not last. I think sometimes memories are a more lasting legacy (in some cases). Even as hectic and crazy as the days are now, there are ways to have special moments or make a memory or use something you were saving for a “special occasion.” Life is far too short to have those regrets and those most important to you in your life are far too precious not to make those lasting memories!

So the point of my story here, my advice to you as well as to myself - Just Use the Damn China! Make every moment count! Don’t hold anything back to save it for a special occasion. That special occasion should be every day we’re able to wake up and go about living.

Dementia SUCKS

Dementia Sucks

May 5, 2017

Dementia SUCKS. There are no “if’s,” “and’s,” or “but’s” about it. It just plain SUCKS. It’s a thief - a sneaky, cruel, conniving, vicious thief that not only steals the lives and memories and minds of it’s victims, but it also robs husbands of their wives, wives of their husbands, children of their mothers and fathers, sisters of brothers, and brothers of sisters, and on and on it goes.

There is no rhyme nor reason to it’s destructive path. There is not even a true predictor as to whom will become it's next victim. Dementia is a death sentence, although not an immediate one. It makes it's victims linger in an unknown state of confusion - sometimes for years. Loved ones are forced to watch the gradual decline and disappearance of those whom they have held dear until the person is nothing like they have known and loved. It completely makes NO sense. It segregates. It alienates. It isolates. It confuses. It hinders. It changes. It takes the common, everyday way of life and turns it upside down. It makes the familiar strange, the known unknown, and the easy difficult. And just like death, dementia is no respecter of persons. It doesn’t care who it claims. It doesn’t discriminate by gender, race, religion, origin, or any other type of politically correct difference. It takes whom it wishes and leaves disaster in it's wake. It leaves it’s victims locked deep inside their own minds. So far so, that they can’t recover from it. So yes, Dementia SUCKS.

It causes every day tasks to become monumental obstacles. It causes personalities to change as drastically as complete opposite; so sometimes those who were once meek and mild can become violent and cursing at every breath or vice versa. It causes it’s victims to lose control of their own body. Motor skills diminish, vision changes by way of depth perception and hallucinations. It even causes the loss of speech and the loss of control of one’s own bladder and bowel functions. It takes the victim from a functional adult, down to smaller than a little child. It changes the familial roles sometimes. It makes it necessary for children to become the caretakers of the parents whom they always looked to for guidance and support. And sometimes it requires support and care from professionals, outside the home to make sure the victims are properly cared for. It even causes it's victims to not be able to realize that they are in pain or to communicate that they’re in pain or discomfort. So, yes, Dementia SUCKS.

It causes loved ones to watch as their parent, spouse, sibling, etc., slowly slips away. To look into the eyes that were once vibrant and full of life and realize that the light is on but there is no one at home any more. It makes you have conversations with your loved one that make absolutely no sense to most people. It causes you to learn not to be completely reactionary when something comes up out of the ordinary or something necessary within the house goes missing. It causes you to reevaluate the things you once thought as most important - because when you have a stretch of good days, where things seem at least partly whole instead of crumbling all around - that’s huge and a tremendous blessing. It teaches you patience, because for whatever reason, certain voice tones and facial expressions can set a dementia patient off. So you learn to be patient and try to take everything in a smooth, calm manner. It teaches you to rejoice on the good days and to find something to laugh about on the not so good days (which eventually becomes the norm) because if you don’t, you will lose your own mind. It causes you to question why things like this happen, even though there is a purpose to everything that God give us and puts in our path, it still causes the questioning. It causes pain and anguish, not only to the person suffering with it, but also to those closest to them. So yes, Dementia SUCKS.

Like many diseases we are faced with in this life, it sucks the life right out of it’s victims. I don’t know that any one disease is worse than another. All of them are horrible. But I think this one, that dementia is possibly the worst of them all because you completely lose yourself, to not know anything of or from the world you’ve lived in for so many years. To be scared and confused because you can’t understand what’s happening around you. To lose knowledge of who your loved ones are. To become just a body with a beating heart - a shell of the person that once was. To me, this seems horrendous.

So, yes, Dementia SUCKS. This evil, conniving, vicious thief, absolutely and completely SUCKS.

What Are You Thankful For Today, Mrs. Smith?

8/4/2016

What are you thankful for today, Mrs. Smith?

You all know that I am a teacher. I do deal with young people on a regular basis and sometimes, they frustrate me, but sometimes, I’m completely blown away by them and by some of the things they say or do.

Last week, I was at a teacher’s conference. I was privileged to get to work with and learn from some amazing State Officers in a Career & Technical Student Organization. The guys and gals are so well behaved and so “with-it” to be only 16 or 17 years old. On the morning the conference started, these young people were down stairs before 7am, they had already had breakfast and were ready to work. “What can we help you with, Mrs. Smith?” And even though it was way too early for all of us, they each had a huge smile on their faces! As the morning wore on and things began to get a little hectic, one of these beautiful students stopped me and asked me, “Mrs Smith, can I ask you a question?” “Sure, baby girl, what is it?” I answer her. With sparkling eyes and a beautiful smile, she asked me, “What are you thankful for day, Mrs. Smith?” In all honesty, I was blown away. One, because this question came from such a young person, and two, because I had honestly not given any thought to a single thing that I could/should be thankful for that morning. I smiled, in my heart, and on my face. Then I thought, what am I thankful for? I told this young lady, “Today, I am thankful for the air that I’m breathing, that I was able to get up out of bed, that I’m here with you all, for your smile and for your attitude, and mostly, for the fact that you reminded me to take a moment and be thankful and to express that thanks.” That moment, that one question, from the twinkly eyes of a teenager, completely and utterly changed my day for the better and it stayed that way.

I had to give a speech at this conference and I felt like (others might not have agreed, but..) it went well. I was pleased with myself. The workshops that happened that afternoon all seemed to go really well. The Awards Banquet that evening, went even better. The guest speaker talked about a guidance counselor whom he had in high school. She’d told him that all he was ever going to be was a forklift driver. Well, he was just that for a time, but that job driving a forklift eventually landed him as part of a senior management team at a huge worldwide corporation. He told us that he never got to go back and thank this guidance counselor. She’d passed away before he realized what an impact her words made to him. He said he’d love to tell her “thank you,” and that made me remember that question from earlier in my day. I didn’t get a chance to tell my drafting teacher how truly important he was to me. I tried, but I never came right out and told him so. But I got an opportunity later on in the evening to have another thankful moment.

I was getting ready to leave the ballroom from the awards banquet and I ran into a gentleman I’ve known for 24 years. He was the principal at the school that my fellow Virginia National Officer was from, when we were only 16. I did a lot of traveling that year, where this gentleman was involved. I’ve seen him many times in the years since. Last year, he was sick, and we were all afraid that we were going to lose him.  Thankfully though, he has healed and has been back to several events recently. He came the other night to help present an award, an award that is named after him, to a member of the conference. Anyway, we stood in the doorway and talked for a bit, until my heels started killing me, so we sat down and talked a bit. While we were there, another gentleman that I’ve known for 25 years, one whom I have stayed in touch with and who has encouraged and even somewhat pushed me, gently, into some of the things that I’ve done since becoming a teacher, well, he sat with us. While we were sitting there talking, another gentleman came by. I’ve known this man for 24 years too. He was my bus chaperone when I went to Louisville KY as a 16 year old, twerp of a kid, to run for National Office, and he is also on the board of this conference with me. I had one of those very thankful moments, sitting there, with these three gentlemen, whom I have so much respect and admiration for. I cannot describe that feeling. To be surrounded by the wisdom that they have, but really, just to have time to appreciate them as the friends and people that they are and to realize in that moment, just what they all mean to me. I did take that opportunity to thank them. And I thanked them again publicly on Friday in another speech. There’s never any way that I can ever repay them for the confidence and encouragement that they’ve given me, but I can always continue to thank them and to be thankful for the role that they’ve played in my life.

With that moment and the moment with the student earlier in the day, I hope to try to always remember, each and every morning, “What are you thankful for today, Mrs. Smith?”

My Refuge

My Refuge

8/2/2016

I never knew that a “place” or a structure could hold so much comfort in it. The comforts of going home is one thing. There is no place like home - as long as it is truly a home. But the peace and solace that I’ve found in going to the barn, is indescribable - although I’m going to try to describe it here.

Three years ago this past month (planning for it started before, but we actually started construction in July), we decided we’d build a barn. I had “visions” of what kind of barn I wanted, but I knew that my Dom Perignon dreams and my Pabst Blue Ribbon budget were two very different things. My husband knew the general shape of the barn that I wanted. And with little more than a couple sketches in the dirt with a stick and a quick drawing on the CAD system to check roof pitches, we started building a barn. He’d told me that the barn would be a different place and that he couldn’t describe it, but that I’d see once we got it finished and the horses living in it. It took us two years and four months to get it to where we could put the horses in it, but he was most definitely right. It did become a completely different place.

We can honestly say, that almost every nail driven in that barn and every board that was cut in that barn was done by us. We had help with two of the big poles and then we had help with sheeting the back and the lower side. Other than that, construction, including the grading, was all done by just the two of us. We learned to cut rafters using a construction square. We made stalls, we made a storage room, we did it all! My husband even built the sliding doors by himself and with the help of two of our grandkids, we managed to hang the big door and get it all working.

By the first winter, all we had up was the middle section, flooring in the loft, sides on the loft, rafters and tin on the roof of the loft (but no ridge cap), posts for the outside of the stalls in the ground, and like 5 rafters and their bands on the lower side. When we baled hay that fall, we stored all the hay in the bottom part of the barn, on pallets, and surrounded the stuff with thick plastic and covered in tarps. It served the purpose, but it looked like a portion of Noah’s Ark, not really a barn. Slowly that next spring, we got rafters cut and placed for the lower roof side, and then even more slowly, the upper roof side. That April, we had two young fellas from the Building Trades class at my school to come out and help us do some work. In two days, we had the back sheeted and the lower side sheeted. Over that summer, we made progress with the siding and the rafters on the upper side, and had some of the inside started. April of last year brought the big front doors. By May last year, it was really starting to come together more. You could see where the stalls were to be and we’d even started lining them and building the doors. We got the power and the water run down there and hooked up. Steadily, the power outlets got hooked up and the lights came on. Stall doors and windows were fixed and hung. We’d even gotten to enjoy the occasional evening of sitting in the barn and enjoying the quiet during the summer. Then feed buckets were bought and hung up and water tubs moved in. Pine flakes were put on the floors of the stalls. The fencing outside was rerouted so that we could move a horse in and out from the barn to the lot. Mid-November 2015 brought the move-in day for the three boys and the cat! It was so nice to have the three horses inside, where feeding was done in one foul swoop, watering was a 5 gallon bucket toted into their stall, and hay consisted of tossing a bat over into their stall. The goal we’d started two and a half years before had finally come to fruition.

Structurally, the barn, was and has always been sound, but physically, spiritually if you will, the barn was now alive! When I say “alive,” I don’t mean that the wood or metal was a breathing, living thing. It was still wood and metal after all. I mean “alive” because having those animals in there brought life to the structure and gave it a purpose and a true sense of being! Walking in the doors and smelling the smells that come with having horses in a barn, and hearing the noises that they make, those moments are priceless. The peace that comes from sitting down in the breezeway and just enjoying all of that and taking it all in, absolutely priceless. Throughout the workday, I look forward to going home to the barn. When I’m at home, most of my time is spent at the barn. I like to linger there. I like to just sit and soak in all of the feelings that come with being there. There is a solace that I don’t get anywhere else. There is a comfort that doesn’t come with anything else. I can have one of the worst days with work, or with other things, and it all melts away when I get to the barn. My refuge!!

                                     (this was the barn at Christmas, I'll have more pics to come)

More to come...stay tuned

It Takes a Special Person

In light of recent events, I wanted to share a few other thoughts in Little Bits of Life. There was and is much more weighing on my mind that I wanted to share but here is some of it…

It takes a very special type of person to go into any type of service related field. By the service related field (and there are many occupations that fall under this heading), I’m talking medical personnel, firefighters, and police officers. I don’t think that I would ever have made a good nurse or nurse’s aid. I know I would never have made a good doctor. I am just not cut out for that type of work. I don’t think I could have ever made a firefighter. I run away from flames, not into them. And I know I could not have made a good police officer, especially in today’s day and age. But these people volunteer for these types of jobs. It has to be some sort of a “calling,” to be truly able to put everyone else first and rush into situations that everyone around is fleeing.

I have been thinking so much about all of these types of workers, these first responders who arrive onto the scene of a terrible traffic accident where many are hurt or worse. Those who make life and death decisions in a split second to try to save my life, or your life, or if neither of us can be saved, they move on to another that can be. Those members of our society that run into hundred story buildings, even as they are falling down around them, to try to save as many human lives as possible, all while knowing they are most likely not getting out of the situation alive. And now, those who run into the gunfire to protect innocent lives around them, instead of running for their own lives and their own safety.

I wouldn’t say that I’ve known “many” police officers in my lifetime. But I am, and have been acquainted with a few. I’ve known County Sheriff’s deputies, State Troopers, even local town and city police, and even some retired officers. They are fathers and mothers, sons and daughters, brothers and sisters, friends, companions, wives and husbands; they are human beings! Some of them are very humble people, not seeking any recognition for themselves, but all honor to the job, to the brotherhood. I’ve met a few that have, for lack of a better way of putting it, “terrible attitudes;” infact, one Retired State Trooper that I met many years ago, I took him aside and asked him if they took all Troopers to special classes at the Police Academy to make them smart-asses, because at that time, every trooper that I’d met (which was like a grand total of like 3) were jerks. I’ve also met some officers who were the epitome of the Barney Fife character from Andy Griffith, and were afraid of their own shadow. All of them, regardless of attitude though, have the same oaths that they take at the beginning of their careers. “On my honor, I will never betray my badge, my integrity, my character, or the public trust. I will always have the courage to hold myself and others accountable for our actions. I will always uphold the Constitution, the community, and the agency I serve, so help me God.” (Found online at http://www.vachiefs.org/index.php/programs/oath_of_honor/) Regardless of what I think about a certain officer’s personallity, those words say a lot to me. Honor, Integrity, Courage, Accountable for our Actions, uphold the Constitution. Wow! Individually the words aren’t much, but together this way, they hold a lot of meaning and a lot of power.

Almost 2 years ago, I was pulled over for speeding on the interstate by a State Trooper. When he approached my car, he had no idea what he was getting into or who he would find behind the wheel of that little red car. He wasn’t really what I would call a nice man. He had attitude. He was very gruff, very stern. And in all honesty, his attitude kind of hurt my feelings a bit, not because he gave me a ticket (which he reduced to a reasonable amount of speed over the posted limit - by the way - and he didn’t have to do that), but more because I was trying my best to be kind and there really wasn’t any kindness coming back in return. After that incident though, I have pondered the day and that moment many times. I have no way of knowing what that man had seen that day, or the day or week before. I don’t know if he’d just come from a horrible wreck and was hoping and praying that I wouldn’t be the cause of or involved in another one. I don’t know if his kid had been up sick all night long. I don’t know if maybe that is just this guy’s normal attitude, and in all actuality, it’s not my place to question that Trooper’s attitude. Do I wish he could have been a bit nicer, yes, but I was speeding. I was the one in the wrong. I was the one who had broken a law with which he’d been sworn to uphold. Now my attitude in return to this man could have seriously changed the outcome of the whole encounter. Had I been hateful or a smart-elic back to him, or had I shown some type of aggression (even though I’m 5’3” and he was like 6’1” or 6’2”), then the situation could have escalated to the point that I would have received a ride in the back of that car with the pretty flashing lights. By my choosing to address him as “Sir,” because that’s how I was raised to talk to elders and authority figures, and by my being honest and upfront with him, yes, he still ticketed me, but it could have cost me a reckless driving charge and it didn’t. He did not have to do that, but he did, with a firm warning, which I have heeded up to this day. Now I know, you’re saying “yeah right, Laura, you’ve not sped in over 2 years.” Well, no, I’ve sped, but nothing like I was that day, and I try to set my cruise control and maintain a steady speed so as not to have any more of these encounters.

Yes, I still get jumpy when I see a police car sitting in the median. Yes, I still get nervous when I see one driving behind me - I’m paranoid that I’ll do something wrong. Yes, I still get nervous when I see blue lights, even if it is just a traffic check. I don’t get nervous because I think I’ve done something wrong or that the police are going to be mean to me. I get nervous because it’s the same feeling that I got in school if I ever got called the Principal’s office - it’s a respect for those in a position of authority. Do I think that all police officers are 100%, stand-up, class-act, in it for the honor of the job, etc. people? No, but I don’t think that all ordinary humans fall into that category either. There have been cases where firefighters enjoyed the thrill of fighting a fire so much that they themselves became the arsonist so that they could go fight that fire. There are cases of people in all walks of life, abusing their jobs and their positions in life, in order to make themselves feel or seem more important than they are. So no, not all police officers are good, but there are more of them that are those stand-up, class-acts, than there are the reverse. They are tasked, each and every day, with upholding the law, and enforcing the law. They’re not writing the laws as they go. Those laws are in writing, made by legislators that we as citizens voted into offices and some of those laws are ones we voted into being.Those laws are there for a reason. The posted speed limit of 70mph on the interstate isn’t there to impede or inconvenience me, it’s there because according to research and recommendations, that is the maximum speed with which travel can be safely made along that stretch of road with the amount of traffic, etc. on it. The other laws - don’t steal, don’t murder, don’t do all the other bad stuff that people do - well guys, those are just no brainers. We shouldn’t have to have someone watching us so that we don’t do these things, or if we did, to bring us to justice, but there again, even God knew that man needed laws to abide by. Man today also needs to learn respect. This is something that has been lost amongst society. It’s evident in all areas of society. From rudeness and aggressiveness on the highways by people that go nuts behind the wheel of a car, to just plain rudeness and utter lack of manners that you see with people in stores. I see it every day in the school aged kids that I deal with. Some would rather walk over top of you than to say excuse me if they run into you. Some have no idea at what point to just sit down and be quiet when an authority figure tells them to be quiet. Some have some type of rude and smart-elic come back when anyone tries to correct them. This world is now full of a whole generation - and it’s even in some older folks too, so I am in no way blaming this all on the kids - of individuals that think they deserve the world to be handed to them on a silver platter just because they’re breathing. And we’ve become a country, and a world for that matter, filled with absolutely no respect for human life - regardless of color, creed, nationality, religion, freckle patterns, hair color - whatever makes us all different. That has GOT to change and we as a human race have got to learn that wrong-doings deserve punishment and that ALL HUMAN LIVES MATTER. We have all got to get along. Wouldn’t it be a sad, sad world if we all looked the same or all liked the same things? Differences can be ok.

The moral of my ramblings here is love. As I’ve said many times before, the problem lies within the hearts of all those out there that would bring harm to others just because they can. It is truly a heart problem. Thank you to those first responders, you EMT’s, firefighters, rescue squad volunteers, and Police Officers. Thank you for running toward the danger for me and all that you were sworn to protect. Thank you for what you do. You’re in my prayers.