Devotions of a High Heeled Warrior

  Ever heard the excuse "my dog ate my homework?"  Most times, that excuse is exaggerated.  The story I'm going to tell you is not.  So this weekend was Family Day at my daughter's university, so we decided to take the weekend and visit her.  This meant that my sixteen year old would be alone for Friday night and on his own for Saturday.   He just got his license, so we were a little anxious about him driving himself to band practice and to school to catch the bus for a band competition the next morning, especially since they were leaving at 6:30 am.  He also was in charge of taking care of our neurotic dog and our cat with an attitude.   Friday night, we called, and he answered that he had fed the animals and all was well.  The next morning at 7 am, we called him.  He calmly mentioned he had gotten to school safely and had cared for the animals.  We were so proud.   When we got home on Saturday, we noticed in the hallway outside my son's room, there were school

  I finally got to visit a local fixture this weekend. My son was marching with his band in the Hootin and Hollarin Festival in Gainesville, MO. I pictured people dressed like hillbillies square dancing around. I wasn't too far off the mark. In honor of remembering tradition, there was a fair share of overalls and hoop skirts. As we waited for my son's band to march through the parade, I noticed something rare on the streets. It was a working pay phone. I didn't even think they still existed. It took me back to the days when you told people where you were going, gave babysitters the phone number of the restaurant where you were eating, and carried change in your pocket in case you needed to make a call. It was a simpler time. Remember operators? Collect calls? For those too young to remember, you would use a pay phone and dial 0 in order to get an operator. If you didn't have change, you would ask the operator to dial your number collect and hope the person picking up w

 My youngest son has discovered a new show that he has been binge-watching for days.  One day, I sat in on an episode just to make sure it was on the up and up.  The show is based on a family with 3 children.  On this particular episode, the parents noticed a strange smell spreading through the whole second story of their home .  They walked from one child's room to the next, only to discover horrifying things that contributed to the smell from left-over broccoli that one child refused to eat for dinner to smelly, putrefied socks.  I felt that this episode was totally realistic.  It hasn't been that long since all of my children were still under the same room.  I remember that each child had their own room clutter issue.  My youngest has had the problem of water bottle hoarding.  When he got a new bed, we had to remove the old bed from against the wall.  I was horrified to find over a hundred half-full water bottles.  It was enough to construct a trash bag life raft for a thir

  As we gear up to celebrate Labor Day, I started to think about some of the jobs I been blessed to have.  I remember my first job.  I worked in a chicken house helping clean out dead chickens and scoop poop.   It was a stinky and disgusting job, but I learned to appreciate working indoors because of that job.  I also helped clean house for a little, elderly lady.  My mother swore that I would destroy her washing machine and flood her house when she found out that I had shoved all of her laundry, her kitchen rugs, and her sheets and towels into the same load.   It was my first time doing laundry, and I think God gave me a big helping of His grace doing her laundry.  As I grew up, I cleaned offices for a friend's dad.  He had this really big buck with a lot of  points hanging on the wall in his office.  Some of you may not know, but I have a slight blind spot in my peripheral vision on my right side.  I was busy cleaning when I suddenly felt myself being stabbed in the head- by a de