View from the Prairie Box

My mom is not a spotlight mother. She doesn’t do her song and dance for an audience (though perhaps she’ll give you a private jig or two) and she doesn’t perform for accolades. She is the quintessential support-giver. A team player. The kind of person you only hope you have standing behind you in any given moment, good or bad.

I say this because I’ve realized a lot about my mom during the last few tough months of my life.

Claudia Jones Lawton is nurse by trade, but I’m know she’s so well-equipped for this field because God built within her the gifts for a good nurse… Compassion, honesty, integrity, hospitality. Claudia, with gifts in tow, came first into this world — the nursing profession was the perfect fit for her. I can’t distinguish “my mom” from “my mom the nurse” because they are one and the same! When mom rubs my swollen feet with lotion, gives advice on medicines over the phone, or listens to my frustrations with concern, she does so out of love that flows from deep within her being.

She is simply the best mother on earth, the only woman I’d want next to me in all my good and all my bad moments. I hope to be half the woman she is someday, half the mother and caregiver to my children that she has been to me. I love you, mom! Thanks for putting up with us kids for all these years…

xoxo Becca Ruth

Woohoo! Yesterday and today were big days para la familia Lawton de Lincoln, Nebraska… My dad graduated from the University of Nebraska with his doctorate in Educational Administration. His hooding ceremony was held yesterday at Kimball Hall, and the commencement this morning at the Devaney Center.

Dad has been working on this degree for many years, slaving away at his dissertation (on the visions of two Christian college presidents, no less — names to be printed here later because I can’t remember one of the president’s names). It means a lot to me that my dad set such a high academic goal, then completed it. This success encourages me towards similar pursuits in the future. For certain, this accomplishment reflects quite highly on my mother, who waited for the process to come to completion and supported my dad in so many ways throughout the years.

Hip hip hooray for you, Pop! We are all very very proud of you and think you look simply smashing in your doctoral regalia!

*Thanks, Adam, for taking such a nice shot with my camera!

Not so long ago…

Bang! The screen door slammed shut. Bang! Bang! Again and again. Loud drunken voices on the porch next door late at night. Vroom, vroom. The big scary guy on his motorcycle, not moving anywhere just revving the engine for effect. Boom, boom… boom. Boom, boom. The deep bass, determined not to be contained in the basement party escaped up the stairs and out the side door, ten feet south and up into our bedroom window. Through cracked eyelids, 3:00am. Evil thoughts enter the minds of tired Tredways but no scheme seems like decent revenge. Argh. Don’t know how on earth this might happen, but please, God, let them move!!!

Just moments ago…

Charity. Renae. Joie. Brook. Gratitude, joy, friendship, community. Bang! The screen door slams and a voice is heard, pleasantly chatting on the phone with a friend. Bang! Bang! A porch party, glasses of wine, great conversation, lots of laughter. Vroom, vroom. Charity yanks ferociously on the lawn mower, willing the darn thing to start up. Days spent outdoors tending to the gardens, deciding how to maintain Pastor Brad’s rapidly growing perennials, making plans for summer barbecues. Light, spilling out into the dark night, telling me Renae is getting ready for bed. The beams from her room cast into mine, reminding me of a college dorm, but so much better. Comfort. Knowing that sisters live next door, always ready to love us.

And we love them back.

I told myself last week that the only reason I’d skip church again was if I was vomiting.

This morning I didn’t want to go. Well, I wanted to go. I wanted to feel the light and joy on my face, raining down from the voices around me; to hear the words of salvation, given by ministers in front of me. I wanted that. But, I didn’t want to physically be there.

Putting aside all excuses for a few moments, I bathed and stretched out my limbs in a hot tub. Then I convinced myself I could indeed make it to church, an answer to a quick early morning prayer.

Balancing Eggo waffle and leather bible, tripping over the stones in the alley, buoyed by the puffy white clouds and blue sky, I found Zion.

And it didn’t matter that my old lady knees protested at the stand-up-sit-down-again motions of the service, that my legs needed reshifting five times during the sermon, that I bumped my head on the pew in front of me while putting on my coat because I was cold… then promptly got the giggles because of the head bump.

If perfection were needed for church attendance, none of us would have made it this morning.

So, why then do I wrestle so intensely with the desire to look like I “have it all together?” Newsflash: I don’t have it all together, not even remotely. And, I’m sorry if I’ve ever made someone else think so. My current physical trials reveal a mere fraction of the disturbances in my soul, wrinkles I deal with moment-by-moment, day-by-day.

Just like raindrops on a sunny day—like our odd Nebraska weather this Sunday afternoon—I stand as a sinner receiving grace. Doesn’t make much sense. Can’t wrap my mind around it. All I can do it open my mouth and take a drink. Sweet, sweet grace.

On a gloriously warm Saturday a few weeks ago, Jeremy and I joined our neighbors out back in emancipating our yards from winter’s hold. Pulling weeds, pulling annoyingly long perennials (see pic), filling trashcan upon trashcan for Wednesday morning’s waste removal… Good stuff. There is much to be said for living next door to FRIENDS and the wonderful investments of a shared community, especially when your houses are as close as ours are! We’re looking forward to planting our garden soon. This year our houses (affectionally dubbed “the Shire” — will it stick?) will share garden plots and divide up the fruits of our labors come warmer months. Last summer we were swimming in cucumbers and tomatoes, so I think the shared garden is a brilliant idea.

Today is an interactive blog day. If you’ve never made your presence known before, welcome to my site and feel free to drop a comment or two!

So today, right now, this moment, what are you grateful for?

Girlfriend, this song makes me think of you. Consider it a “Born to Fly” blogging dedication on this day we celebrate 26 years of Charity Lynn Throener! In the words of Sara Evans (and folks, sing along — this song isn’t meant to be read as a serious soliloquy):

I’ve been telling my dreams to the scarecrow
About the places that I’d like to see
I say, “friend do you think I’ll ever get there?”
Oh, but he just stands there smilin’ back at me
So I confessed my sins to the preacher
About the love I’ve been prayin’ to find
Is there a brown-eyed boy in my future, yeah
And he says, “girl, you’ve got nothin’ but time.”

Oh, How do you wait for heaven?
And who has that much time?
And how do you keep your feet on the ground
When you know, that you were born?
You were born, yeah, you were born to fly

Okay, so I’ve had a lot of free time this week. For those of you who are interested, I just started some meds to help rid my body of its crazy inflammatory arthritis. The start of the week saw me in a position of pain and incompetence, the end sees me healing up and starting to get well (no small thing, praise the Lord!). I’m basically taking a homebound vacation from work and that explains the loads of free time spent blogging and commenting (and the need for a good book).

Comment #1 about “American Idol”:
Jeremy and I watched much of the audition clip show aired earlier this week and I was horrified, horrified! to hear this type of phrase uttered by many contestants: “Yeah, I’m kinda nervous. This is the first time I’ve ever done this.” What? You mean that the first time you’ve ever auditioned for a singing role is in front of nationally-known celebrities? ARE YOU CLINICALLY INSANE? You think you can sing, not to mention become America’s next pop idol, and you’ve never tried out for a) an elementary school talent show, b) a junior high choir, c) a senior high musical or d) a community theater performance? Never??? All of a sudden, when a multitude of cameras are present and the entire nation has access to your audition tape, you think you can sing? Oh. My. Goodness. Something is very wrong with these people. I’m stopping myself just short of saying, You deserve to be laughed at!

Comment #2 about “American Idol”:
I’m wondering if a campaign exists to elect redheaded high schooler John Stevens as the next American Idol. Last night the unthinkable happened… The top three performers were the receivers of the least amount of votes — and one of the show’s best singers, Jennifer Hudson, was voted off. Maybe this is due in part to people like me who watch the program but don’t vote. If so, AI is bound to crack and fall apart this season. Personally, I think it’d be hysterical for the viewing public to vote the worst singer (John Stevens) as #1. Can you imagine the response from the judges, not to mention the producers?? Ha!

John-boy needs to go back to school. The kid sure mimics old schoolers pretty well, but face it — he can’t hold a note to save his life. The other youngsters, Jasmine and Diana, belt out their songs with the best of young Broadway performers but they are definitely lacking maturity. You can just imagine them singing all the plum roles in their high school musicals. George Huff is an excellent performer but he doesn’t stand a chance against the (formerly) three left. Poor poor Jennifer Hudson… Her dismissal was so unfair. Hopefully she’ll get some good opportunities out of this crazy deal. Here’s to Fantasia and LaToya as the final two! My opinion may change, but I think Fantasia’s the best. Not that I’m voting or anything…

Here’s the petition: I need a good book STAT. So if you live in Lincoln and own a decent fiction or biographical non-fiction book, please let me borrow it soon! My brains are rotting away and all the books on our shelves look unappealing. I’ll be home tonight… Bring me a book!

On April 8, Adam and Kristin stopped by the church office to give me a few little “gifts” from their trip to New York City. I was pretty excited because I had meant to beg my big brother for a souvenir and had forgotten to do so. I opened the first package — a yellow taxi magnet, a perfect NYC memento. I then opened the second package… and out came a marriage certificate for Adam Lawton and Kristin Longacre from Manhattan. What the…?!!? The jumping up and down and teary eyes commenced and I was hugely excited and happy and joyous and did I mention excited? It was best surprise EVER! I have loved Kristin for years and considered her my sister-in-law, but the official news of her new last name just cemented things in such a beautiful way.

April 7, 2004 — an important and joyous day from here on out… Congratulations, Adam and Kris. I love you guys! You’ve made me a very happy little sister.

*This picture was taken at the Green Gateau during our impromptu Lawton wedding dinner after my parents were told the good news. (For the record, A&K told the folks while at work. Mom cried… no surprise there.) They called Andrew on his cell phone before the meals came to the table. It was such a bonding time where I realized the beauty of belonging to one another — what a blessing to be a part of this family.