Now the whole world had one language and a common speech. 2 As people moved eastward,[a] they found a plain in Shinar[b] and settled there.
3 They said to each other, “Come, let’s make bricks and bake them thoroughly.” They used brick instead of stone, and tar for mortar. 4 Then they said, “Come, let us build ourselves a city, with a tower that reaches to the heavens, so that we may make a name for ourselves; otherwise we will be scattered over the face of the whole earth.”
5 But the Lord came down to see the city and the tower the people were building. 6 The Lord said, “If as one people speaking the same language they have begun to do this, then nothing they plan to do will be impossible for them. 7 Come, let us go down and confuse their language so they will not understand each other.”
8 So the Lord scattered them from there over all the earth, and they stopped building the city. 9 That is why it was called Babel[c]—because there the Lord confused the language of the whole world. From there the Lord scattered them over the face of the whole earth.
From Shem to Abram
10 This is the account of Shem’s family line.
Two years after the flood, when Shem was 100 years old, he became the father[d] of Arphaxad. 11 And after he became the father of Arphaxad, Shem lived 500 years and had other sons and daughters.
12 When Arphaxad had lived 35 years, he became the father of Shelah. 13 And after he became the father of Shelah, Arphaxad lived 403 years and had other sons and daughters.[e]
14 When Shelah had lived 30 years, he became the father of Eber. 15 And after he became the father of Eber, Shelah lived 403 years and had other sons and daughters.
16 When Eber had lived 34 years, he became the father of Peleg. 17 And after he became the father of Peleg, Eber lived 430 years and had other sons and daughters.
18 When Peleg had lived 30 years, he became the father of Reu. 19 And after he became the father of Reu, Peleg lived 209 years and had other sons and daughters.
20 When Reu had lived 32 years, he became the father of Serug. 21 And after he became the father of Serug, Reu lived 207 years and had other sons and daughters.
22 When Serug had lived 30 years, he became the father of Nahor. 23 And after he became the father of Nahor, Serug lived 200 years and had other sons and daughters.
24 When Nahor had lived 29 years, he became the father of Terah. 25 And after he became the father of Terah, Nahor lived 119 years and had other sons and daughters.
26 After Terah had lived 70 years, he became the father of Abram, Nahor and Haran.
God’s word stands against man’s word. God doesn’t make mistakes and doesn’t misspeak. No take backs.
God, please open my heart and eyes. Show me how I can serve here in my church and my community.
Jeremiah 51
Babylon is in modern-day Iraq.
Man CANNOT do what God does. The customer is a sinner, and is NOT always right.
A man-made idea or thing will not save us. Ideas/capitalism/communism cannot save us.
All nations fall against Jesus/God. Your governing ideas and principles will fail.
IS IDENTITY MORE IMPORTANT THAN WHO WE ARE IN THE KINGDOM OF GOD?! Hold loosely to identities in life.
In counseling, Karley asked, “How are you not in the will of God in your life?”
Grasping for man-made truths in my identity
Trying to grab into things I can control that define me instead of asking and exploring who I am in the Kingdom of God
Before I splatter my heart and soul all over this page, we need a gentle reminder.
This is MY space. I choose to be vulnerable and share it with your eyes and your judgments and your preconceived notions. I encourage genuine feedback, but please be overly confident if you choose to negate anything in my space. I may love you, but my tolerance level for pearl clutching and toxic positivism is in the negatives. The gloves are off.
For starters, I chose to read All the Ugly and Wonderful Things the week the kids’ dad got released from prison. It was a horrible, unconscious choice that wrecked me every single time I read a little more in the book. (Side note: It is INCREDIBLY written but not for the faint of heart… Probably one of my top books for 2025 so far…). Highly recommend. My timing was just off, which is literally an accurate description of my entire 44 years on this planet.
Anyway, the kids’ dad was released on March 28th. He’s served his time and is sober, so more power to him. He moved to Oklahoma with his girlfriend and is hoping for a new lease on life. He says the only responsibility he has is cleaning their pool. His life as a pool boy with no expenses seems to be thriving. He’s got four kids out here that have been raised by single moms who get nothing from him, but different strokes for different deadbeat folks, I suppose.
This leaves me with big feelings that took me by surprise. I honestly didn’t expect any feelings, but the fiery anger (and maybe resentment/disappointment/grief?) takes my breath away and spikes my blood pressure every time it crosses my mind. I’ve never expected life to be fair or just, but this takes the unjust nature of our time on this planet to a new, soul-crushing level. I’ve never had the opportunity to grieve the life I thought I’d have at 34 or 44, and that sucks. It leaves me feeling empty and alone. I went from losing a husband/ best friend/life partner to to being the single mom of a 1 and 2 year old quite literally in the same exasperated breath. I was in a relationship after my marriage that I hoped would last (if only because it was so vanilla and predictable), but in retrospect, only left Kannon with a “distant uncle” type relationship and me with a lot of wasted years on absolutely nothing. I am at the same place I was a decade ago, only now I have teenagers who expect perfection from their one present parent, and don’t miss a beat.
What is so wrong with me that I am alone, hamster-wheeling through life and raising these two? Logically, I know that is a ridiculous statement, but that’s what is screaming at the top of my distorted brain at 3 am when I can’t sleep. How does an ex-con who has shit on everything good he’s ever been handed walk out of prison to a life of ease and luxury, while I’m over here not paying the internet so I can pay the electric? I will process more as time goes on… or maybe I won’t… because I am so tired and irritated that I’ve already given so much of myself and my peace to this idiocy.
In addition to that, it has dawned on me 15 years too late that nothing I had with the kids’ dad was real. He is a shapeshifter and will contort to fit whatever his current meal ticket finds suiting. He did it for me until he couldn’t. He hit a ceiling and just wore himself out pretending to be someone he wasn’t. His current situation may last, just because he’s too tired, sick and felonious to start again. Another personally startling realization is this: I’ve never been in love and I have never been emotionally safe in any romantic relationship I’ve cultivated. It’s interesting that I saw potential where there was none and jumped in with both feet every. single. time. Therapy has shed light on that, but understanding the why of things doesn’t alleviate or change anything. Maybe Mr. Right will enter the scene someday. Maybe I’m just tired and don’t have the energy or faith to find out. We shall see, I guess. I’ve poured so much of my magical self into the shittiest humans on Earth, and that’s nauseating to reconcile…
Well, I better get off of here. I have to grab Kannon from school and take him to the dentist, then pick up my car from the body shop in Victoria, then come back to work and finish up some expense reports and time sheets, then grab the kids from school, get Anaiah to her lash appointment, then figure out dinner, then pay the mortgage (which is two months behind), the electric bill, the internet, the disposal invoice (possibly three months behind), pack our stuff for Anaiah’s district track meet tomorrow, wash her jersey, make breakfast for the kids for tomorrow, and text Kannon’s coach to make sure he has a ride home from school tomorrow… since I will be at Anaiah’s district track meet. I get that I am blessed because I get ALL of my kids ALL the time. I would not like splitting time with anyone else and trusting anyone else to care for them. This is not a celebratory post for single parenthood. It is okay to honestly lament the painful, heavy, life-altering seasons of life. It is normal and human to feel awful and sad and all the things we hide in closets and sweep under bulging rugs. It is important to sit with those feelings and give them the space they demand, then trudge directly through them to the other side. Writing helps me do that, and I am promising myself that I will make it more of a priority as I continue through this startling era of existence.
This is one of my all-time favorites. This is why I’m unapologetically me regardless of how any one person “thinks” I should be. I’m a work in progress. I am a Jesus follower. I love craft beer. I value your humanity and the condition of your heart exponentially more than your sexual orientation or your bank account. My sense of humor is amazing and questionable. I put up my Christmas tree on November 1st. I am intelligent and I love very well, which is sometimes a conflict of interest. If you knew me at 8, 18, 24, or 34 and don’t know me now, you don’t know me anymore. My kids have been raised in a one-parent home since they were one and two, and they are THRIVING in every. single. way. I will sit with you over a pot of coffee or a 32 oz margarita and discuss my life, your life, the state of the union, and drag queens in libraries at any time, and I will do so honestly. My threshold for pleasantries and small talk is ten seconds tops, then we’re finished, and I don’t mind making it weird. I do not allow anyone or anything to demand my energy, time, or attention. And all of this, because my life has quite literally ended for me many times and began again in the morning.
Pop your earbuds in, find a good podcast, and focus on what you, as an individual, need to focus on today. Accept everything else competing for your attention as meaningless noise.
Cara Bastone is a full time writer who lives and writes in Brooklyn with her husband, son, and an almost-goldendoodle. Her goal with her work is to find the swoon in ordinary love stories. She’s been a fan of the romance genre since she found a grocery bag filled with her grandmother’s old Harlequin Romances when she was in high school. She’s a fangirl for pretzel sticks, long walks through Prospect Park, and love stories featuring men who aren’t crippled by their own masculinity.
True love is put to the test in this romantic comedy brought to hilarious life by Santino Fontana (Frozen, The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel), Stephanie Einstein, and a full cast!
This Psych 312 assignment just might send me off the deep end. Determining whether love at first sight really exists with Robbie Moravian as my project partner, of all people?
He’s the sappiest man alive, so upbeat I could scream, and clearly rooting for happy endings at every turn. How does he not learn from experience considering our own meet-cute last semester almost got us expelled?
But we both need to pass this course to graduate. So we’re interviewing five random couples about their meet-cutes and relationships and spending all this time together. Which is certainly…educational.
Because it turns out Robbie isn’t just the charming golden boy I thought I knew. There’s some actual depth beneath all those lame dad jokes and the ‘70s-inspired thrift wardrobe (even if he does look ridiculously great in a flared collar). Next thing I know he’s walking me back to my office on the regular and finishing all my sentences and protecting me from freak storms, and…
Wait. Could Robbie be right? Can happy endings really come from unhappy beginnings? Is he about to change my entire world view?
Group projects are the worst.
I’m not a big romance fan, so I thought I would dip my toe in the genre by listening to a short audiobook that is currently free on Audible. It is 4 hours and 35 minutes long and honestly a delight. It is light, fun, and spins a hopeful look on romance and love. The narrators are perfect for the roles, in my opinion, and I highly recommend the listen. The plot is based on Robbie and Marigold working together on a romantic psych project. They interview several couples about their respective relationships for their class. I love that a lesbian, divorced, and elderly couples were included in the work. The professor of their class also references his husband, Scott. I am big on inclusion. This is a great choice if a break from serious, intense, or emotional reads is needed. It makes me miss that flirty, light stage in the very beginning of relationships… a little.
Marigold – 27 years old, working on her bachelor’s degree, working on a project for Psych 312 class with Robbie, striving to prove love at first sight does not exist, parents are divorced science teachers employed at the same school, light brown hair, petite
Robbie – 28 years old, working on his bachelor’s degree, working on a project for Psych class with Marigold, striving to prove love at first sight exists, father owns a car dealership and mother is a retired superintendent, tall, has an infectious smile
Barbara Kingsolver is from Appalachia and set out to write The Great American Appalachian Novel… AND DID SHE EVER.
Y’all… 21 hours and 3 minutes (560 pages) and I SAILED through it. LISTEN TO THIS BOOK instead of reading it. The narrator is absolute perfection. No one could be a better Demon. Unlike some of the reviews I’ve read, I absolutely wanted it to end. This is not an easy read. It made my heart bleed and overflow almost simultaneously. Regardless of his misfortune and addiction, Demon IS SO GOOD. He remains so good throughout the entire book, which is a testament to humanity as a whole. He describes the happy times of his childhood as anyone would. I can relate to his descriptions of playing with friends outside during childhood years. This gives us all a thread of continuity and weaves us into Demon’s train of thought and perspective.
I loved Ma and HATED Stoner and Romeo. These men prey on single mothers and are horrific subhumans. I literally reacted to much to the gut wrenching parts of this book that my Apple watch congratulated me on my workout… and I wasn’t working out… While most of us aren’t Ma and Mariah, we feel like it. Motherhood is so hard and we all feel like we are failing unforgivably sometimes, and honestly, sometimes we are. Parts of this book made me recall my inadequacies as a mother and wonder how my kids will remember it all. I was angry at Ma for staying with Stoner, but in her position, and as beaten down as she’d been her entire life, she’d just given up years ago. I can’t imagine and I’m grateful I am not and never will be in that position. I was so stupid at 18 years old, but I thank God for family and resources that would never let me sink into Ma’s life.
This is a necessary read and truly a work of art. I was up at 3:30 am this morning thinking about Demon and his chosen family, as they aren’t fictional characters at all. There are countless Demons and Emmys and Dories and Junes and Hammerhead Kellys and Tommys and Fast Forwards all over our great nation and the world, surviving as they know how. I watched several documentaries that realistically depict the drug epidemic in Appalachia. The Wild and Wonderful Whites of West Virginia is a 2009 documentary film directed by Julien Nitzberg chronicling the White family of Boone County, West Virginia. It isn’t an easy or tame watch, but I highly recommend it. It elicits the same emotional rollercoaster as this work. And under the differences, traumas, addictions, lifestyles, and intensity is the raw underbelly of people just doing their best to survive bigotry, shame grief, and hunger. Most humans on the planet can relate in some way to that.
The style is unmatched. It reminds me of Cutting for Stone in the sense that you need to read it slowly to absorb all of the beauty, but I loved it even more. I loved the way Demon references religion and the Bible. I can totally see his perspective. And OH MY GOODNESS the figurative language in this masterpiece… Otherworldly. It addresses society as a whole – poverty, addiction, domestic violence, child abuse, discrimination in various forms – while fostering the connective heartbeat of raw, unfiltered humanity straight through all of the impossibilities and devastations.
Some of my personal favorite gems from this masterpiece…
“Pestering the tit of trouble”
‘The monster truck mud rally of child services”
“Keeping secrets from young ears only plants seeds between them.” (woosah….)
… and that is just in the first 11 minutes…
“One nation, underemployed”
“A thing grows teeth once its put into words.”
“Spittin’ poison in my brain” referring to Stoner’s influence on Demon regarding Maggot’s sexuality
(Most of the character analyses for this book are paraphrased from LitCharts. There are a ton of characters and I was so enamoured with the writing that I didn’t take great notes…)
Demon Copperhead – Demon, born Damon Fields, is the novel’s protagonist. Demon is born in a trailer bathroom to a young mother who is addicted to drugs. Throughout the novel, Demon struggles to overcome the circumstances of his birth—poverty, generational trauma, and his mother’s addiction, which he ultimately inherits. He serves as an example of the hardships that people in Appalachia face as a result of external forces like inadequate social services, poverty, and a lack of employment opportunities. Demon’s character, in particular, helps illustrate the harm caused by pharmaceutical companies that targeted the Appalachian region and overprescribed opioids they knew to be addictive.
Ma – Demon’s mom is young when she has Demon. During Demon’s childhood, Mom works at Walmart and tries, at various times, to enter recovery from addiction.
Maggot – born Matt Peggot, is Demon’s closest friend growing up. Demon spends as much time at Maggot’s house as his own. When Mom becomes involved with Stoner, Stoner forbids Demon from spending time with Maggot because he suspects that Maggot is gay.
Stoner – Murrell Stone, nicknamed Stoner, is Mom’s boyfriend who is physically and verbally abusive to Mom and Demon.
Satan – Stoner’s dog
Mrs. Peggot – Nance Peggot, more often referred to as Mrs. Peggot, is Maggot’s grandmother who, along with Mr. Peggot, helps raise Maggot after his mother, Mariah, is sent to prison. The novel portrays Mrs. Peggot as kind and caring, and she and her husband become a surrogate family to Demon.
Mr. Peggot – Mrs. Peggot’s husband, is a kind and patient man, He helps raise Demon. He sustained a leg injury while working in the mines and has not walked easily since.
Mariah Peggot – Maggot’s mother, serving prison time, 18 when she went to prison, due to retaliating for domestic violence.
Romeo – Maggot’s father, egotistic and self-proclaimed too good for Mariah, “A fox in the hen house” as Mrs. Peggot says
Emmy – the daughter of Humvee, who passed away before the novel takes place. After Humvee died, the Peggots took in Emmy. When Maggot’s mom was sent to prison, though, the Peggots couldn’t raise two children, so Emmy went to live with her aunt June in Knoxville. June eventually formally adopts Emmy. Emmy is depicted as smart and wise beyond her years.
Aunt June – Maggot and Emmy’s aunt who becomes Emmy’s adoptive mother. June is a nurse in Knoxville who then moves back to Lee County to be closer to her family. She also steps in to help both Demon and Emmy when they are at their lowest and then financially supports their journeys to sobriety.
Angus – born Agnes Winfield, is Coach Winfield’s daughter. She does well in school and initially plans to leave Lee County to go to a four-year college as soon as possible.
Fast Forward – the larger-than-life football star who Demon first meets at Crickson’s farm. At first, Fast Forward seems charming to everyone who meets him, and Demon thinks of him as a kind of real-life superhero. As the novel, progresses, though, this charming façade peels away to reveal a darker, more sinister personality.
Coach Winfield – takes Demon in and helps raise him. Demon lives with Coach and Coach’s daughter, Angus.
Dori – Demon’s girlfriend. Demon is surprised to learn that Dori is a heavy user of opioids, which are prescribed to her father Vester, who is dying of cancer.
Tommy Waddell – one of the foster boys whom Demon meets at Mr. Crickson’s farm. The novel portrays Tommy as a sweet, kind, caring, and gentle person. Tommy is one of my favorite characters in the book.
Dr. Watts – the doctor for the football team and the doctor at a pill mill, a kind of pain management clinic that will write prescriptions for anyone who pays for one.
Kent – Aunt June’s boyfriend who is a pharmaceutical representative. Kent’s job consists of trying to get doctors to prescribe opioid painkillers more often.
Hammerhead Kelly – a cousin in the Peggot family, related through marriage. He is a sweetheart.
Miss Barks – meets Demon when he is 10, one of Demon’s case managers through the Department of Social Services (DSS).
Mr. Crickson – the foster parent whom Demon first goes to live with after Mom overdoses.
U-Haul – born Ryan Pyles. Coach Winfield’s assistant who will later become an assistant football coach.
Mr. Armstrong – an English teacher at Demon’s middle school. He recognizes that Demon is a strong student and recommends him to the gifted and talented program.
Ms. Annie – the art teacher at the high school. She encourages Demon to pursue his talent for drawing. Ms. Annie is married to Mr. Armstrong. Ms. Annie is white and Mr. Armstrong is black.
Mr. Ghali – the owner of Golly’s Market
Rose Dartell – one of Fast Forward’s friends, though Fast Forward seems to treat her only with contempt. Rose seems jealous of Demon for the attention that Fast Forward gives him.
Flag football was a little wild this year, and I think it will be our last year, but I’m glad Kannon got the experience of two years. He played because he wanted to carry the ball, which he can’t do in tackle, and no one ever passed to him either year he played. We will concentrate on tackle.
My amazing friend, Karie, invited me on a Royal Caribbean cruise in January. Thanks to my mom for keeping the kids! Karie and I had a great time and can’t wait to do it again! We went with her brother, Robert, his partner, Austin, and many other amazing friends. It was an absolute blast.
I turned 42 on February 6th. Dad was here and took us to dinner. I got to spend it with some of my favorites.Papa Sam came to our last game of the season which happened to be on my birthday. Valentine’s flowers from my sweet kids (and Daddy)!Basketball is the name of the game in January and February. This is Anaiah’s favorite season and she improved so much from the beginning to the end this year.February began and ended with rabbits. We have showed for two years and are taking a break this year. The kids are so busy with sports and other activities that we decided not to show anything this year, but have our sights set on a lamb for Anaiah next year.
Track season is OUR season! Anaiah KILLED it this year. The girl can run… and she is extremely competitive.March and April is the heat of track season. Our girl is a natural runner… but doesn’t actually like running. She does it anyway, though, because winning makes most things fun even if you don’t necessarily like it.
We drove to Missouri to visit our cousins, Hannah, Tyler, and Jensen, for Spring Break 2023. We had a smooth trip and loved our time with family. We have been traveling long distances since the kids were tiny so they are great travelers and don’t get on each other’s nerves as long as our earbuds are charged.
The spring is just as busy as the fall with track and baseball going on at the same time. Kannon’s baseball season is from February to May and Anaiah’s track season is from February to April so we are MOVING during these months.
If you’ve been around for any time at all, you know Kannon’s dance moves are just as much a part of any sporting event as the actual game…
We made the trip to China Spring for Easter. The kids had a great time with cousins at Papaw and Dooda’s after hunting eggs at Aunt Lindsay and Uncle Blake’s house.
We wrapped up baseball and tennis in May. It was filled with finishing out the school year and both kids getting numerous awards for their athletic and academic efforts.
In May, Kannon decided to be a band kid! The band director told him he had perfect tuba lips, and we know flattery gets us everywhere with him… so tuba it is!
Another Cousin Camp, this time in Marble Falls, for the kiddos! This may be our last one, as the kids are getting older and have busy schedules, even in the summers these days.We spent most Sundays at Splashway during summer months with some of our favorites. We had a scare and spent the better part of a Sunday evening in the ER in late June. Thankfully, nothing was broken and we left with just some ice and a sling. We took Anaiah’s pictures right before her 13th birthday. Much love and thanks to Leann G Photography and Destiny Saenz (Insta @_beautybydes_) for an amazing session! This dynamic duo cannot be outdone!
After pics, we were off to Rosemary Beach for Anaiah’s birthday week. We stopped for the night in New Orleans to explore the WWII Museum and partake in some amazing food. The video below accurately depicts each child’s enthusiasm level while touring the museum. Kannon was so excited when we walked through the doors that he literally cried, which made me cry. It was the sweetest. Anaiah only survived because the white sands and Rosemary Beach shopping were less than two days away…
We ordered Anaiah’s custom cactus cake from Cava and Cakes 30A. We HIGHLY recommend them if you are ever in the 30A area and need a bakery. It was amazing!
Our GG’s 50th birthday surprise party was in Big Spring a few days after our Florida trip. We were able to make it and wouldn’t trade the time we spent there for the world… It was much needed and we will see Charlie and Gina more in the New Year.
August
Kannon started his band career at the beginning of 6th grade. We have an amazing band program here in Yoakum and are very excited to watch him and his tuba become best friends!
Volleyball is underway for Anaiah. This is her second year and these ladies are in it to win it.
Anaiah and Rebecka after their tournament ^
Football season officially starts, and that’s where we spend all of our time.
Thankful for amazing educators that put up with my son’s charisma… I received this video from one of our favorites… She is a true saint!! Please keep all his teachers – past, present, and future – in your prayers!!
Kannon turned 12!! I can’t believe this kid is almost a teenager.
Cross country and football take over our fall. We had a wonderful cheering squad at the district meet including Dooda, Aunt Lucea’n, and Kannon.
We enjoyed the eclipse in our backyard with the help of a welding helmet.I went to Georgetown for my dear friend’s divorce party, and we were all more than ready to celebrate! Whiskey Cakes was the perfect location for the festivities, and Kristin couldn’t have done a better job planning the party.
Rae Rae rescued me on Halloween by taking Kannon trick-or-treating and Anaiah and I attended our church’s Trunk-or-Treat event. Check out the gorgeous poster Anaiah created.
Papa Sam was able to come to a game, and we always love when he’s here. Kannon gets bored of just having Anaiah and I in the stands cheering for him.
Brian, Kannon, Johnny, and Anaiah on their way to tennis camp the day after Thanksgiving
Our first hot pot experience! It was delicious and we all had a great time trying all of the new foods and sauces.
Kannon’s annual Thanksgiving weekend swim overlooking Lake Madeline
Mom came to Yoakum to attend Anaiah’s basketball game and our town’s annual Christmas on Grand.
A week later, Dooda, Papaw, and Bailey came for Kannon’s first band concert. The kids all did an amazing job!
Kannon is in the back, but check out his tuba pump at the end. He wanted to make sure I knew where he was. I love this kid!
I got tired of myself when trying to complete this post, so I’m giving up and just publishing it. Next year’s will be complete! (Maybe… no promises…) – Chass
January
We began 2022 with Covid. Anaiah and I were down for a week, and somehow Kannon skipped it. Both of them got excused absences for the week, so both of them kinda loved Covid by the end of it all. We basically had cold symptoms, and that’s about it.
February
I turned 41! I’ve earned all of those years so I don’t mind getting older.
We celebrated with going to my favorite store, Junk Gypsy, in Round Top and eating at Royer’s. Highly recommend if you’re in the area.
A few weeks later, we were able to celebrate in Gruene with my girls.
March
The kids stayed active in 4-H with rabbit projects. Anaiah and Kannon showed at the Cuero Livestock Show on March 1st and didn’t place. Anaiah is showing again this year and we are hoping for a better outcome. She is also making a quilt and pajamas for Project/Homemaking Show.
April
Kannon played baseball again last spring with Yoakum Little League. He enjoyed entertaining the crowd and eating an average of 3 pickles per game, as well as the actual baseball part of baseball season. We all lived at the fields for most of the spring and are grateful to have amazing friends who help get us through the every sports season.
May
Kannon played flag football for the first time last May. It was a lot different than tackle football, but he got to work on his speed and coordination more.
June
I overloaded Kannon with summer camps to keep him busy, and Anaiah and I followed him around Texas while exploring new places and working remotely. He attended Mo Ranch in Hunt, Texas from June 12 through 18.
The following week we attended our annual cousin camp in Granbury with the Munkebys, Staubers, and Dooda.
We highly recommend the Air BnB.
July
June 26 through July 2, Kannon enjoyed Pine Cove Christian Camp in Columbus, followed by 4-H Prime Time Youth Camp in Brownwood July 10 to 13. A weekend trip to Port Aransas was next. We spent some much needed beach time with Kristin, Ava, and Cash in the pool and at the beach. Kristin and I agreed that beach trips look a lot different than they did 20ish years ago…
July 17 we began a week-long stay with Kristin and Ava while Kannon attended Camp Half-Blood at McKinney Falls State Park in Austin. During our week with the Thompson girls, Anaiah turned 12!
We rounded out July with a quick trip to Lakeway with Karie, Brayden, and Averly.
August
Kristin turned 40 and Gina got married in the same weekend. I know a guy who knows a guy with a plane, so we pulled it off. Kristin’s birthday weekend was in Fredericksburg, and Gina and Charlie’s wedding was in Big Spring. Dad picked me up at the Fredericksburg airport at 2 pm on August 13th, and I was in Big Spring as a bridesmaid in the wedding by 4 pm. I was back in Fredericksburg by 8 pm to continue celebrating with Kristin and the ladies. I was so grateful to be able to make both events.
The kids started the 5th and 7th grade August 17th. This was the first year we didn’t get a “First Day of School” picture with both kids because Anaiah had to be early for athletics.
Anaiah started volleyball and found her place as a setter. Her team did great for their first time playing and I definitely look forward to seeing them grow in the coming years.
Anaiah was nominated vice president of our 4-H chapter in August. She will be showing rabbits, making a set of pajamas, and participating in the Cuero Homemaking show, along with Kannon, next February.
September
Kannon turned 11 on September 12th. He had football practice on his actual birthday, so we celebrated the weekend before with Papa Sam and friends at Yamato.
Anaiah started cross country and found her niche. She loves to run and is extremely good at it. She tied for 4th in district this year, with only 8th graders ahead of her in placement. She is starting the season next year as the front runner in our area for junior high. Anaiah was on the bus by 6:00 am many Saturdays while her friends were sleeping in. I am so proud of her dedication!
October
Kannon began his tackle football season in August and finished at the championship game in October. It was a hard loss. After some tears and hugs, Mexican food, once again, came in clutch and cured all. His best friend, Kase, joined the team this year. We were overjoyed to do the football life with one of our favorite families. The coaches give so much of themselves to these kids and it definitely shows on and off the field.
We had a great time hanging out with friends and trick-or-treating with friends who are family. We are blessed to live in a small town where kids and parents can still walk down the streets and collect lots of warm greetings and candy.
Anaiah and Kannon helped at the annual
November
We spent Thanksgiving in Galveston with our Zeidan family. Fouad graciously took Kannon, Johnny, and Brian to Moody Gardens so Dad, Anaiah, and I could go hit up the Black Friday Hobby Lobby sales.
December
We spent Christmas Eve and Christmas Day at home in Yoakum. Papa Sam came to visit us and the kids got pretty much everything on their lists.
We also got family pictures taken by the amazing LeAnn Green. She was amazing with our crazy and we highly recommend her for any and all occasions.
We finished out 2022 at Dooda and Papaw’s in Chima Spring celebrating our Stauber Christmas.
We wish you all a wonderful and prosperous 2023! Below are some miscellaneous pictures that make us smile from the previous year. Thank you for coming along with us on this crazy ride called life!
Spear thistles are my favorite. They have beautiful purple-pink flowers that contrast starkly with the deep, healthy green of the stem and leaves. Thistles provide a substantial amount of nectar for all kinds of pollinators, but are almost unanimously described as “short-lived” and “sometimes annuals, sometimes perennials.” Fickle, fleeting, pretty weeds. Thistles are beautiful, until they are used up, run out of nectar and serve no purpose. Then they are discarded and exterminated. I have cultivated and operated in thistle mentality for almost every single second of my 37 years. I’ve gotten excellent at it. Parts of it have become hard-wired as parts of me.
My purpose has always been to make others feel good about themselves. Take all the nectar. Enjoy the pretty flowers. Sure, please take it all. I don’t mind… When they feel good about themselves, I, in turn, feel good about myself. I have entertained entire friendships and romantic relationships simply because I didn’t want to make another human feel bad about themselves or experience any kind of pain at my hand… Unwrapping a microwave around the tree at some poor fool’s family Christmas and thanking his parents with a robotic smile because I didn’t want him to feel less of a person because he bored me to tears. Being a people pleaser has created more hurt than disappointing honesty ever could. And, just so we are absolutely clear, being a “people pleaser” is code for looking for love in all the wrong places. For real, Johnny Lee. I see you. Unfortunately, my life was a country song… that one… for a really long time. Lest we lose steam, let’s journey on…
“People pleasing” in all forms is a sneaky, subconscious way to soothe bleeding hearts and coddle deep wounds still infected by past pain. Historically speaking, it has unfailingly served as a comforting, addicting way to pat myself on the head and tell myself I am pretty and smart and all the things when no one else feels tasked with the burden. When my nectar is gone and my kind of pretty elicits boredom from whosoever’s attention I’m craving at the present time in life, I have habitually exhausted every avenue available to give, give, give of myself, making the bearer of my self-worth “happy” and, in turn, gotten a little hit off of that… just enough to hold me over until the next time. All of those unsightly relationship choices that made no sense to anyone and lasted way past their expiration date? Life choices that were made solely benefiting anyone and everyone but myself? All the times I took the harder road because it would make a particular situation better for someone else who barely knew my name? The thistle is pretty and provides all kinds of nectar, but isn’t so much about self-care or self-respect. We’re uprooting them all. They’re clearly weeds.
Matthew 15:13 grabs me with both hands every single time I cruise by it, or, every single time it is thrown at the dead center of my forehead, as it has been consistently for a few months. There aren’t coincidences when scripture is involved. I don’t know many things for sure but I know that. Sometimes I unsuccessfully attempt to ignore and disregard scripture when it is quite literally shoved in front of my stubborn eye holes. There you go, Chassati… circle that mountain for forty years and see how that works for you… I preach to my children daily about good versus bad choices resulting in good versus bad consequences, and my grown self has chosen to make bad choices for years and decades. I’ve basically been asking – praying – begging – for huge sweeping change, and I haven’t honestly been open to it. The actions have not matched the intent. I confuse myself, so I’ve been praying about and mulling over (which is often the same thing) what changes must be made. Die to self. Eyes on God. What prevents change? What keeps us comfortably underperforming and clinging to mediocrity as if every shred of life in our mortal bodies depends on it?
Habits. Debilitating situations and relationships have corroded the hardwiring, creating habitual, short circuits that subconsciously deploy when presented with forward movement and progress. An opportunity for positive change and growth, you say? No, thank you, Creator of the Universe. I have habits in place to protect me from such change. I will contentedly and securely sit right here and marinate in my functioning, numb apathy. Blind, trusted muscle memory and constant fear of the unknown have kept me repeating the same patterns and muscling through the same lukewarm, septic habits for longer than I care to admit. False security and mediocrity are comfortable, debilitating diseases. I have quite literally been circling the mountain for almost as long the Israelites. This could have taken around 11 days… or even 11 years would be better than almost 40. “You have been traveling around this mountain country long enough. Turn northward.” (Deuteronomy 2:3 ESV) Okay, God. I hear you.
We obviously have to rip out most of the hardwiring, uproot the weeds, and start over. The hardwiring is the most labor-intensive to reroute and replace and the pretty weeds are the hardest to uproot. However, after gross amounts of neglect over the course of decades, the wiring is corroded and the weeds have become so dense that we can’t see anything else. The wiring has to be redone and the weeds have to go. Not the tiny, insignificant periphrial repairs I hoped God would point out and disspell with the wave of His capable hand, but the big, huge cornerstones of what 37 years of being me and living like me and thinking and feeling like me have birthed. God, show me what changes need to take place. Show me how I can best serve you. Ask and you shall receive – and I am receiving. ALL. THE. THINGS.
Things I know for sure: Changes required of me right now in November of 2018 are complete and staggering. Mo Isom says it best. “Learn to be comfortable with the uncomfortable.” Wow, okay. Seriously, folks. Put on your leathers and get ready to ride. Also, truths and expectations and callings can and will flow in and out of the socially-acceptable perimeters set by our family, friends, and traditional church. AND they can change. Coloring outside of the lines is encouraged.
Our little family is in a season of change and progress and growth. All three of us individually and the collective “we.” In order to lean into this season and be maliable, we have to surrender to God’s path for our lives and forget all traces of our own whims and fantasies. My fantasies have been a huge source of comfort for me since I was a tiny child, and its a security blanket that has been surprisingly hard to let go. I never viewed them as damaging before, but they are. I’ve spent a lot of my life in hurtful situations and relationships where being present meant being raw, exposed, attacked and bleeding constantly. My goal was to not be present in the present, and my own mind was the most effective and safest escape.
I heard a sermon about a year ago (that I can’t properly site because I’ve slept since then) that directed listeners to include God in all fantasies and daydreams and consciously note how different they looked when He was present. The before and after was a gut punch for me. My consistent prayer for about a year has been to clearly hear God’s voice above all of the others and to find my purpose and pursue it relentlessly for His glory, however, He was not included not once anywhere in the secret places I escaped to in my own mind and heart. He wasn’t ever there with me in my hiding places. I further discovered, quite alarmingly, that I was excluding God on purpose, because His path is the “harder” road to travel and my mind and heart, in the midst of the aforementioned situations and relationships, screamed for relief and ease and reprieve a lot louder than God knocked on the door. The knocks always come in the still and quiet of seeking. I was not wholeheartedly seeking, and I was definitely not still and quiet. I was just surviving. Physically breathing in and out and bracing myself for the next blow, and coping by retreating into the secret places in my mind and heart devoid of God or anyone or anything else that could potentially comfort me me but most probably hurt me. Including God in my fantasies and daydreams takes a lot of conscious effort and rewiring on my part, but grace and hope are powerful forces. The Holy Spirit, who embodies hope, alters the perspective of change from scary and downright offensive to new, exciting, opportunity and growth.
We’re on to something for sure, y’all. Habits must change. Fields must be gleaned. Chains must be broken. Purposes and paths will be discovered and rediscovered and rerouted. Stay tuned.
As I was scrolling through my Facebook feed this morning, a fairly common meme posted by a well-meaning acquaintance caught my eye and, honestly, instantly pissed me off. Y’all have probably seen it a thousand times before. It says, “A child that is allowed to be disrespectful to his parents will not have true respect for anyone.” There are a lot of variations, but the point communicated is always “Your child’s behavior is a direct reflection of what you ALLOW.”
Ladies and gentleman, this is a problem. I understand that If I had tallied the source and number of times this gem of advice came across my news feed since the existence of social media, I can without a doubt guarantee that it comes from nuclear families with neurotypical children every. blasted. time.
I have a very important piece of life’s puzzle to offer you right now at this very moment. This piece of advice is valuable and actually applies to every person on the face of God’s green earth. Are you ready? Here goes: You cannot control another human being ever, under any circumstances. Game changed. It doesn’t matter if you married them, gave birth to them, or they gave birth to you. You cannot control another human. Guiding our children in the way they should go is crucial, and our hearts, minds, and hands should always be prayerfully involved in shaping them and motivating to be their best selves. This includes teaching right from wrong which requires consistent discipline and follow through. But, notice, “guiding” and “teaching” are actually pretty much the opposite of “controlling.”
When my son was in PreK 3 and 4, we were blessed to have an exceptional teacher (Mrs. Susan Scott) and teacher’s aide (Mrs. Barbara Bedford) to love on him and teach him, in that order. He kinda requires it to go in that order, and they were intuitive and passionate enough to pick up on it and execute the formula beautifully. He loved school and his teachers dearly. However, because of his behavior challenges, developmental challenges and the interpersonal dynamic life has fostered between he and I, it was consistently very hard for him to leave me and go with them in the mornings. He would have better days than others, but usually dropping Kannon off meant hitting, kicking, biting, definitely verbal assault and 65 pounds of boy beef thrashing about in the middle of the hall at my feet. The same person who posted this nugget of wisdom walked by me probably a hundred times during just such displays from my youngest, and the judgement was no doubt, “She needs to teach that child some respect.”
The really hard part about all of this is that child knows respect. He loves me harder and purer than anyone I’ve ever known. But, that child also has behavioral and emotional developmental delays that create huge gaps in logical thinking and make it next to impossible for him to compartmentalize emotion. When pressure is applied to him in any way, positive or negative, its like pulling the pin on a grenade. When a person or situation makes him feel sad, angry, embarrassed, excited, overjoyed or in any way overwhelmed, the dynamite is detonated. His lashing out at me was the response to transitioning between “how I feel with mom” and “how I feel at school.” It was his response to transitioning between “unconditional, hands-on, obvious, warm, maybe-sometimes-grouchy-and-a-little-impatient” love to “conditional, hands-off, cordial, carefully measured” love. Time and consistency will help this little, intense boy learn how to negotiate himself in the world, but he isn’t there yet, and we can’t rush him. We continue to guide and teach. Controlling is a joke with this one, I assure you. But, the common consensus is, “he’s acting like that so there is a problem with the way he is parented.” I am definitely not perfect, but God gave ME Kannon and no one else, so turns out He has faith in ME and no one else to parent this child and be his mother. I love that so much and I take it very seriously. No amount of shade anyone can throw our way will ever alter any part of how I guide and teach my boy as we do life together.
Y’all, we’ve worked really hard to get to where we are in this journey together. I see shimmers of improvement in my boy daily, and I can only hope he feels the same about me. Grace is so vitally life-giving in every second we spend on Earth. Kannon is a person before he is my son. I am a person before I am his mother. We have to learn and grow together and as individuals simultaneously, and we are killing it, World, we really are. Some amazing resources that have helped us use the challenges as growth opportunities are Raising Human Beings: Creating a Collaborative Partnership with Your Child, The Explosive Child, Sacred Parenting, For the Love, Of Mess and Moxie, Boundaries, and many more. While these resources are so worth the money and time to buy and read, they pale in comparison to the amazing support and nuggets of applicable wisdom I have soaked up from my very own tribe. You’re either with us or against us, but we hope you’re with us. The party is over here here, y’all.
I was scrolling through Facebook and saw a post commemorating the Sandy Hook shooting. It said, “We will always remember four years ago: 12/14/2012.”
I stopped breathing for a minute. My back involuntarily tensed and my face flushed. I had to consciously gather myself and remember I was, in fact, at my desk waiting on my software to update. This is probably another reason why you should never open social media at work, even if you have legitimate dead time to fill.
Sandy Hook was definitely devastating, but the date is what knocked the breath out of me. December 2012 was four years ago. Four short years that have seemed like a lifetime a hundred times over. Four years ago was our last Christmas with the boys. It was the last time we saw them, actually. Four years ago, I thought I was losing the greatest thing that had ever happened to me. Four years ago, La Vega hadn’t happened. Four years ago, I still got a quick kiss and tight hug every once in a while from my husband, even though his eyes were empty and his mind had been a million miles away for at least a year. I had no comprehension regarding the strength of mental illness and addiction versus the strength of love. I still truly believed that as long as you had love, you had enough. Four years ago, I was praying desperately for a miracle, completely broke and struggling to pay for counseling and medication that Ren was quite literally flushing down the toilet. Four years ago, my body was in the best shape of my life, but my spirit was broken and my heart was grieving a best friend and life partner, physically alive but ravaged by meth, mountains of whores, false friends, mental illness and other drugs.
“Have faith in God,” Jesus answered. “Truly, I tell you, if anyone says to this mountain, ‘Go, throw yourself into the sea,’ and does not doubt in their heart but believes that what they say will happen, it will be done for them.Therefore I tell you, whatever you ask for in prayer, believe that you have received it, and it will be yours.” Mark 11:22-24.
Over the rocky terrain of 2013 and 2014, I shouted this verse at God. I was so angry above all other emotions. I told God time and time again how angry I was that He discarded my desperate, fervent prayers. I spent a few years distancing myself from God because I felt absolutely passed over and betrayed. I believed God had lost interest in me, but nothing could have been farther from the truth. In fact, God graciously and deliberately responded with the complete opposite of December 2012’s disillusioned, impassioned pleas. I received my miracle. Ren swirled down the toilet right behind his expensive medication and rejected counseling. That’s not what I prayed for and absolutely not what I wanted. I prayed for what I wanted, and received what was best. I wanted my husband back. I wanted our family Friday pizza and movie nights with all four kids to continue until they graduated from high school, then maybe beyond that when they came to visit with their spouses and children. I wanted the life I had planned, and I fought long and hard for it. I lost myself in the fight for my family, home and future. I lost the ability to define love for what it was, and was only able to define it by what it was not. Exodus 14:14 says, “The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still.” If you insist on fighting your own battles, God will step back and wait for you to get your ass kicked so miserably that you have no choice but be still. I am relentlessly stubborn, so I’ve taken this route more often than not. It’s taken my entire 35 years and about a million paradigm shifts to learn that I’d rather be still and ask God to fight for me at the first suspicion of battle regardless of how large or small. Life clicks along better that way, and aftershocks and post-traumatic damage are kept to a manageable minimum. Crushing defeats transform into growth opportunities before your mortal eyes. You can, in fact, teach an old dog new tricks.
Grace is the power we receive to live our life from the standpoint of victory regardless of the circumstances swirling around us. Grace is received only through faith. God’s grace is sufficient when we actively trust that His all-encompassing view is much superior to our ridiculously limited perspective. I am the tuba player marching in the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade, and God is the blimp overhead. It is in my best interest to trust the blimp’s perspective instead of my own. The blimp can see everything for miles. I can see the sweat beading through the back of the ugly uniform directly in front of me. I’m learning. I am learning that what we want often looks completely different from what is best. In this season of Christmas, I am so grateful and humbled that I get what is best, even though I deserve what I want instead.
So many changes have violently elbowed their way into our world over the last four years, and I’ve come to appreciate and savor the value in them all. The process of absolute brokenness and subsequent rebuilding has made me unrecognizable to those who don’t know me deeply. But those who do say I just put the pieces back together differently.
December 2012 was bondage I didn’t recognize as bondage. December 2016 is freedom. I am finally true and honest with myself, which evolves into truth and honesty in all aspects of my life. I spend my time on people and treasures that make me think and feel and laugh so hard I cry. Freedom means pausing my Gabriel Garcia Marquez documentary to watch The Farting Preacher, then jumping right back into Marquez, but pausing once more to catch Jason Boland live on Instagram. Freedom means swiftly and completely disregarding opinions and advice of those who have no concept of what our world looks like. Freedom means putting effort into what I know is important instead of being obligated to extinguish petty fires every moment of every day. Freedom means having the courage to live in the present instead of being comfortably chained to the sinking bricks of the past.
2017, we are ready. Morning by morning new mercies I see.
Pretty Colors Unabridged 