Andi Meade

I love my husband. I know that’s not news to anyone, and it’s quite normal for a wife to love her husband, but Philip is so incredibly special, there’s no work involved in loving him, living with him, sharing my life with him. So every year when his birthday roles around, I try to think of something special I can do to celebrate. The problem in the past few years has been that time rushes on me so quickly, I’ve got the two babies I’m trying to take care of, and this time of the year always seems inordinately busy, and this year has been no exception. I tried to plan an overnight trip last week, but due to extenuating circumstances, that didn’t happen. I tried to find time to get down the mountain to buy his birthday present, but due to scheduling conflicts and bad weather, that also hasn’t happened. So, irritated with myself at this point that I fear once again I won’t do his birthday justice, I decide to at least make sure we can go out to eat on his birthday. So I find a babysitter who’s willing to watch a one year old and a two year old (thanks Rhonda!), plan where we’re going, plan what to wear, and I have everything set for dinner tonight. Only one problem.

Today is not Philip’s birthday. My bad. I thought today was February 11. It’s not. It’s February 10. How could this happen, you ask? Actually, you would only ask that if you didn’t know me. If you do know me, you know exactly how this happened. Even with my excellent planner that I daily put into use, I still am off. At least I’m only off by a day, right?

Oh well. At least we’ll have a nice time tonight. The night before his birthday. Maybe I’ll make this a tradition. 🙂

You know the saying, “You can take the girl out of the South, but you can’t take the South out of the girl”? I’m finding it to be so very true. It’s interesting how, when you’re in a certain culture, things seem so normal that in other cultures aren’t. So here is my list of things that make me still a Southern girl. Or maybe make me part of a huge, loving and crazy family. Either way, there’s no escaping it:

1. I put make-up on to go to the grocery store. I can’t help it. It’s in my blood.

2. I want my hair blonde. Not the natural kind that is so popular out here, I want the kind that is perfectly obvious it’s not my natural color.

3. I love having parties, and keep trying to come up with reasons to have people over to my house.

4. When I hear country music, I get all soft and mushy. Even though I don’t listen to country music.

5. When I hear the National Anthem, I get all soft and mushy too.

6. Few things are more important than making people feel completely comfortable in my home. Those few things will never include making people take their shoes off, or keeping kids out of any room because they might mess up the furniture. I’m not saying this is a good thing, or that you shouldn’t take care of your possessions. This is just my own thing, coming I think more from my family than my geography.

7. I’m still sold on the idea that most things can be solved over a cup of tea, hot or cold. But if it’s iced tea, it must be sweet. And if it’s sweet, it must have been made sweet from the beginning.

8. My one-year-old is running around like a madman, but still not wearing shoes. And my response? Oh well.

9. Yes sir, no sir, thank you, please, you’re welcome. All incredibly important words in my vocabulary, and therefore, in the vocabulary of my kids.

10. Church occurs three times a week: Sunday mornings, Sunday evenings, and Wednesday evenings. And Sunday school is not optional.

These are just a few, I’m sure there are many more. I’m also certain that a lot of these things are held dear in other places besides the south, but since I’m southern born and bred, it’s all I really know.

Am I missing any, my Southern girls that are also transplants?

Recently I’ve been thinking a lot about memories. I know that seems like a weird thing to say, but in the last few weeks many things from my past have re-introduced themselves to me. I was thinking that my memories are like all the boxes of pictures I have stored, hundreds and hundreds of pictures, in boxes, crates, and picture albums. A person has to decide which pictures to put out for others to see, where they would fit most appropriately in our lives, and even who we want to see them. And then, when we do show people our pictures, there’s no way for the person to actually be in that moment, seeing what I saw when I took the picture.

I’ve admitted to being a horrible journalist, and that I fear, I know, someday all of my memories will be lost. A friend of mine called me a few days ago to share some wonderful news. This was a friend that I went to high-school with, went to England with, and even lived with for awhile. In that brief conversation (brief, because I was trying to chase Callie Grace down to put some clothes on her, while she was shouting “naked baby! naked baby), so many memories came flooding back to me, and memories for me have tastes, smells, textures. I remembered traveling England with her in a train eating bread, cheese, and pickled onions, because we were so poor! I remembered the smell of the dorm we lived in in England, the laughter and love there that healed me after a devastating few months previously.

And then there are the horrible memories, the sad memories. What does one do with those? To ignore them, lock them away, would be foolish, if not even dangerous. To dwell on them would be a waste of the time we are given, and would most likely drive you into depression. To dwell on them would build resentment and even hate for the people involved, locking yourself in your own jail cell.

As I sat and pondered these thoughts in the quiet moments (okay, fine, in Starbucks) I realized that a person has to come to terms with all of their memories. Each memory, beautiful or exquisitely painful, is like a single thread, weaving a tapestry through our lives. If a person believes in a sovereign God, which I do, this is easier to do, I think. And in the moments that we are actually living in, again beautiful or so painful you want to curl up and die, it’s only the comfort of knowing that God is, indeed, sovereign, that can keep us going, keep us praising, keep us thankful.

Once again I find myself with too many things to write about, so this will be a collection of short stories.

First of all, my sister-in-law, who lives here in Denver, is an amazing, strong, athletic, busy woman. We have been trying for the nearly two years that Philip and I have been here to get together, and finally this past week we were able to meet for dinner. At the end of the meal, we agreed to try to get together once a month.

Did I mention Lisa is strong and athletic? So the next day I get a text message from her saying, “Hey, let’s go do indoor rock climbing. I’m serious. It will be fun!”. I wrote back and said, “Sure! But first let me make sure Philip has taken out a life insurance policy on me”, which she, being the smart lawyer that she is, noted that she didn’t think life insurance would cover such a thing. Good to know. However, I’m excited to try this.

Next story: Callie Grace is superhuman. I’m certain of it. Nothing will keep her in her room if she wants out, which is causing many interesting and hilarious stories. One funny thing is that she seems to just play in her room until she falls asleep. We have found her in all sorts of places in her room, in all states of dress and undress. Last night she was laying face down on her bed with her tennis shoes on. The other night she was curled up on the floor with her pull-up and pink cowboy boots on. Today, when we went to check on her after nap time, she was curled up beside her toy box, covered in blankets, stuffed animals, and other assorted toys, fast asleep.

Next story: Today at church, both my children entertained the audience, along with Callie Grace’s best friend Charleston, by praising the Lord in dance. I mean, they held nothing back. As we sit on the front row, this was for all the congregation to see, but they were not in the least bit shy. They were worshiping with all of their precious little hearts, regardless of what anyone else thought. Having been raised extremely conservative, it’s a big step for me to even sway to the music!

And then my last story: The Lord has gifted me with the ability to work with people in a way that they are comfortable talking to me, and has granted me knowledge on topics such as mental illnesses, addictions, family difficulties, etc. I’ve decided to put these skills back into use on a limited basis here, in my free time, and so I told the Lord to lead people to me who were struggling with these issues.

Once again, He took another path.

He has brought me people, for certain, but He has taken me completely out of my comfort zone and brought me people who are searching for Him, who have no relationship with Him, who are lost. This is just plain terrifying to me. I want so much to pass them right on to Philip, who has such a gift for reaching the lost, where as I tend to come across sarcastic and, well, stupid, when I’m uncomfortable or nervous. However, I know, I KNOW, that when I am weak is when He is strongest.

And for those of you not on Facebook regularly, I have to retell this story. Callie Grace and Justus were in her room, and I heard Justus let out a loud cry. I went in there to find Callie sitting on her bed, looking innocent. I said, “Callie, what happened to Justus?”. She said, “I don’t know, I was just having my Bible study.” Very interesting, since there was no Bible around her. Clever, clever, freakishly clever girl.

So Philip and I, clearly, are not prepared for a disaster. Not that we could ever give the impression of being the “I can survive in the wilderness with duck-tape and matches” kind. One only has to mention the word “camping” to me, and I start to shudder and head for the nearest Starbucks. However, living in the mountains of Colorado, a person really needs to know some basic survival skills. You know, like keeping batteries in your flashlights, and having a source of fire to lights candles and to, well, start a fire.

I suppose we got a little lazy regarding this because last winter we survived storm after storm without ever losing power. At one point we had 42 inches of snow piled up on our deck. So we felt rather invincible. We didn’t consider that it wouldn’t be the weather that would knock out our power, but rather a person driving too fast, wrapping their car around a pole, causing a chain of events that left over 1200 people in Evergreen without power. This happened about a week and a half ago.

After this occurred, the next 36 hours turned into a comedy of errors. The power went out at 4pm on a Friday. We were in the middle of transitioning Callie’s crib into a big-girl bed. Not worried, we called the power company, and they told us the power would be back on at 7:36pm. Seriously, that’s what they said. So we hung out, played with the kids, made a little fire, expecting our heat to come on in no time. At 8pm, it wasn’t on, so we called again, and they told us it would be 11pm. So we gathered all the candles we could find (four), found our flashlights (one), bundled up the babies and got them to sleep. Justus I think could sleep out in the snow, he hates being hot, so he went to sleep right away. Callie hates being cold, and also, she now had the freedom to get out of bed at will, which she did. A lot.

At 11pm, still now power, so we call back and they say it will be on at 2:45am. Now it’s starting to get really cold, but we decide to stick it out for awhile. Philip and I got into bed, lit the decorative candles above our bed (just asking for trouble, right? Luckily, no trouble from that fire hazard). At 1pm, the fire alarm starts beeping, you know, the sound it makes when your battery is dead. Seriously? The one night in almost two years where we have open flames around our house, and the fire alarm dies?

Shortly after that, we were sitting in bed reading (there was no way I was sleeping by this time, since we had candles in both the babies’ rooms, and my imagination takes crazy flight the later it gets). We then hear the sound of a creature in our kitchen. I promise, it sounded like a raccoon in our pantry, it was so loud. So Philip and I tiptoe into the kitchen, armed with a flashlight that is dying. We realize it has to be a mouse, because when it heard us it stopped making noise. I’m standing on a chair in the dining room, telling Philip to take care of it. He asked me how he was supposed to take care of it without power. I asked how he would take care of it with power. He acknowledged that I had a good point. We decide there were no good options at this time, and run back to our room.

At 3am, still no power, so we call and are told it won’t be on until 8am. By this time, the house was frigid, so we called the only motel in Evergreen, played the “I have two babies in diapers” card, and got one of the few rooms available. We bundle up the kids, go to the motel, sleep for maybe 45 minutes, and then the kids are up. I call about the power and am told it won’t be on until 8pm that night.

Here’s where it takes all of your will power to stay calm, find the humor, and assure the kids that everything is ok, and that we’re just on an adventure. So we head to the house, pick up a few things, and go to Philip’s brother’s house down in Denver. We were able to come home that night, but by that time we hadn’t slept in over 36 hours, and were at the hysterical part of the lack of sleep.

I realize this is a long entry, but it’s just a brief synopsis of the craziness. We found out that night that Callie can climb out of a pack-n-play and over a child safety gate, making no noise, with her blanket and baby in tow, which means she had to plan it. One minute you think she’s asleep in the next room, and then suddenly she’s standing in front of you with a grin. Dude. She’s two.

It was also a reminder that, in most trying circumstances like these, you have the choice of finding the humor in it and thanking God for what you do have, or getting extremely frustrated and irritable, which will lead to the kids being irritable and frightened. It’s also a reminder that, really, some basic survival skills and necessary items for power outages would really be the wise way to go.

So now I keep a good stock of Dr. Pepper in the fridge. I’ve learned my lesson.