The People's Parable

A look at God’s own heart

I thought it fitting to introduce you (other than photos) to Isla Oak on the day of Marshall and I’s first anniversary as parents, our third year of marriage. After all, this is where she began.

Three years ago, I promised to love Marshall for the rest of my life. The journey to that day was adventurous. It took two very (VERY) independent people and merged them into a tiny family. Just he and I, telling God and everyone that we would be each other’s better half until our life on Earth was finished.  As anyone knows, it’s not easy. But it is wonderful.

Fast forward to 5am on a morning in January. I sat straight up from a dream and knew it. There’s no real way to wake your husband gently to tell him you’re pregnant that early in the morning.  We didn’t scream or cry or jump up and down. Marshall’s first words were “What? We are going to be parents? What time is it? Why are you awake?”

From the first time we saw a tiny flicker on the sonogram, we were hooked. And scared. We had a real, live, tiny human that would be joining us some time in September.

Well, September came fast. We didn’t find out if Thumper (a nickname that stuck after hearing her first heartbeat) Brown would be a boy or a girl, so the anticipation was even greater. Marshall almost passed out a few times just thinking about that. As we rode to the birthing center, we both bet a million dollars that Thumper would be a boy.

Here SHE was. After about 5 minutes of wide-eyed awe at the spectacle before us, we finally looked to see that we had a tiny, perfect baby girl. Yes, we were in love. But I’m not sure either of us knew it just yet. We were consumed with keeping this brand new human alive. Was she breathing? Was she eating enough? Was her poop supposed to look like that? We didn’t know. Even after reading 47 books about how to be the most prepared, versed parents in the world.

 A few weeks later, Isla Oak had an awful night in which she stopped breathing for several seconds at a time. Which to me, felt like minutes. She spent the night in the hospital, and we went from seizures, to a final much less scary diagnosis of bad reflux. From the second something was wrong, until I had her home safe with me, my heart was full of something I’ve never felt before. It was a fierce, chest-tightening, overwhelming love. Her life was a gift to me, and completely out of my control.

 It was the first time I was given a glimpse of God’s own heart. My love for her was heartbreaking and unconditional. I was in awe that there was an even more perfect love that He offers me every day.  It was like being hit up side the head by your dad and him saying “YES! This is what I’ve been trying to tell you!”

I thank God for Isla Oak every day. What an amazing gift I’ll never deserve.

When she smiled at me for the first time. When Marshall sings to her and thinks no one can hear him making up songs about Gus being her brother and Frank being funky. When she laughed for the first time and my heart exploded. When she sleeps and lets out a smile like there’s a happy secret she’s keeping.  All of these things and so many more are constant reminders of God’s heart for me, for Marshall, for Isla Oak, and for every child of his.

I hope that Marshall and I can teach Isla Oak that she and every person she will ever meet is God’s favorite child, and to spend her life trying to love them all as such.

Happy Anniversary Marshall Brown. And welcome to this crazy world Isla Oak.

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The kind of mother I hope to be

A few nights ago at a get-together with friends, I had the chance to talk with Carrie about her son, Tyler. She’s 37 weeks pregnant so naturally I asked her when she was due, boy or girl, if she’s ready, etc. Typical. She hesitated about being ready, and then shared a little of Tyler’s story. I’ve never met Tyler, so I’ll borrow from their website for now: (From Tyler’s perspective)

“They diagnosed me with Congenital Dyserythropoeitic anemia, type II. We call it CDA for short! Basically, my bones don’t make red blood cells right, so I have to get blood transfusions to keep my levels up and keep me alive. So, every 3-4 weeks I get a blood transfusion, or Tune-up as we like to call it. My family is so thankful to all those that donate blood, they save my life every month! By now, I’ve had over 140 transfusions (we lost track sometime ago). I’ve had at least 6 surgeries and many procedures over the years. I take a yucky tasting medication every day to help my liver. You see, because I have to get so many blood transfusions, the extra iron builds up and causes damage to my organs like my heart and especially my liver. I have to get liver biopsies to monitor the damage (which I get to sleep through too  ).

For a long time, we thought there was no hope for a cure. CDA is really rare, when I was diagnosed there were only 150 cases in the WORLD!! But now, my doctors think there is a chance I could be cured! They found a donor that matches me exactly, who has actually come forward to help me. Through this, my liver wouldn’t get any more damage and I wouldn’t need blood transfusions anymore. Transplant is a long process though and I need full time care for up to 6months to 1 year. I will have chemo and lose my hair (which is okay, because I’ve been begging mom for a buzz cut). My family will have to be REALLY careful with germs so I don’t get too sick. My mom is stopping work so she can stay in the hospital with me (she’s a nurse, which comes in handy) and then care for me at home until I’m strong enough to be around other people and go back to school.”

When we spoke, Carrie shared much less than this. She mostly said how excited she was that Tyler was home. His transplant went well and although the next 100 days of recovery and isolation would be tough, Tyler was home and happy to be out of the hospital! She explained that Tyler couldn’t be around any kids under 12, he couldn’t leave the house, his diet was crazy strict, and any time he wasn’t in a room with a Hepa filter, he had to wear a mask. Okay, I complained about my long drive to work yesterday! So, needless to say, nesting has been hard for Carrie. Baby girl is on her way and time has been hard to find.

The whole way home I thought about Carrie and her family. What would I be like in a situation like this? We stress about money and time on a regular basis, and we haven’t faced hardship even close to this!

Luckily I was able to ask mutual friends to share a little more. I found Tyler’s website, Help Cure Tyler, and it gave me an even greater appreciation for the kind of mother Carrie is to Tyler. She’s so strong. and loyal. and loving. and FAITHFUL. Through everything, she knows God is good and the power of prayer is undeniable.

I hope, especially this time of year when we tend to get caught up in materialistic wants, that Carrie will inspire you like she inspired me. Let’s be the women (and men) He created us to be. Let’s love each other as He loves us. Let’s teach our children to be strong and brave so they can grow up to be warriors for their children and their God, as Carrie has done for hers.

Please join in praying for Tyler and his family. If you have the means, please donate to help with their extensive medical bills. To do so, and read more of Tyler’s story, check out his site at www.HelpCureTyler.Com

Merry Christmas all!

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A woman with Passion.

I think it’s awesome when I meet someone like Carrie, who has to spend no time defining herself, because her life does all the talking. Carrie loves to belly dance, and fly planes. She’s a model, and a photographer. Carrie is an only child who thinks her parents are cool, and totally enjoys living with them. She’s a small town girl, with passions wildly outside what you’d expect.

Let’s talk about this belly dancing business for a second. Many of us have heard of belly dancing classes offered at our local college or gym, and some have even signed up (guilty!). But for Carrie, belly dancing is a part of her everyday life.  The first time she saw a real performance, she was hooked. To her, belly dancing is a captivating portrayal of femininity, something she hadn’t experienced in dance before. Now, Carrie travels all over the state of Florida performing, learning from the greats, and photographing other belly dancers. I would love to go see one of her performances!

As a photographer, Carrie has worked for Stellar Advantage, The Enchanted Caravan, several belly dance companies, and The Wings of Dreams Aviation Museum.  Talk about fun work!

Something I especially enjoyed connecting with Carrie about is her love for flying. She grew up around all things aviation, as both of her parents are licensed pilots.  How cool is that? In fact, Carrie and her dad flew over to the St. Augustine airport to meet me, sounds like a fun guy to hang with!

Spending time with another only child was also pretty cool. I know there are a lot of us out there, but I don’t really have any friends who are only children. Most of the time I get “What?! Are you a brat? Did you like being the only one?” It was great to meet another woman who is not a brat, is friends with her parents, and has no idea if she liked being the only one because she just was.

I could have spent hours asking Carrie about her life. She doesn’t have to explain all of her dreams as some far off feat, because she’s living most of them.  My favorite lesson from Carrie was to “Just do it!” Okay, Carrie and Nike, but they make a great point. So many of us (guilty again!) spend time talking about all the things we’d like to do in life, and never actually do them. We are great at making excuses for why we can’t, but if we’d all be a little more like Carrie, I think we’d realize that we totally can. My challenge to you (as if you need another motivational speaker in your life) is to pick something you’ve always wanted to do, and just do it!

Make sure you check out Carrie’s website at www.CarrieMullins.com

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A friend of mine, Aliera, asked many of her co-workers (including me) to send a Christmas card to her brother’s unit currently serving in Afghanistan.  In all the years we’ve had soldiers over there, I’ve never written a personal letter to any of them. I’ve thanked them in unison with groups, watched them on the news, and prayed for them. But writing a personal letter to one soldier? Man that was hard. Where do you even start? What could you possibly say? Well, I don’t think it was great. I’m not sure he or she will understand what I was trying to say or know how much I want to thank them in person. But if nothing else, it made it real for me. Somebody’s baby will be sitting in Afghanistan on Christmas morning, missing their mom and dad. Santa won’t be bringing home a child’s mommy or daddy. Wives and husbands will be in the states, wishing they could sit by the tree with their better half.

So here’s all I could say. And again I’m warning you, I had no idea where to start. But I’m hoping that you will think about what you would say. Maybe you’ll decide to send a card too. I think at least on Christmas, they’ll have a few comforting words to hang on, knowing that we think of everything they do.

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Ben is real.

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Daphne Smith is the most beautiful veteran I know.

She is my husband’s grandmother. So yes, I have met her before, but I couldn’t pass up the chance to write about her on this Veteran’s Day.

Most of the time it’s easy for me to be cynical about this country. Deceitful politicians, materialism and selfishness tend to stay at the forefront of my mind, but one conversation with Daphne and I’m reminded why this country is great. She doesn’t talk about her service much, or all of the bad things she saw. She doesn’t talk about my generation as if it just rolled out of bed and wants a handout. She doesn’t harp on why the democratic or republican parties are insane, or why people who do not think like her are wrong.

What Daphne does is exude kindness, and strength, and humility. She is everything I want to be when I grow up.

Think about this. Daphne was born the year before women were given the right to vote. She was 6 years old when Hitler published Mein Kampf. She was 13 when scientists split the first atom and 14 when the first Nazi concentration camp was established. Daphne was 20 years old when the first commercial flight crossed the atlantic, and when World War II began. In 1942,  the year Daphne would turn 23, she enlisted in the Women’s Army Auxiliary Corps (which was not an official branch of the U.S. military until the following year, becoming the Women’s Army Corps). She was in the first group of women to ever serve this country as a part of the United States military.

Talk about strength. Daphne was a woman in the prime of her life when it was acceptable, if not expected, for women to follow the lead of men and find a husband to take care of. But, even though women were hardly considered equal to men, and even though she could not receive half the benefits of men in the U.S. military, and even though she had a man who’d asked her to marry him, she chose to serve this country. Daphne chose to show other women (and men) that we would make this country great by standing up for what we believed in and taking a chance, like the families who founded this country did many years before. She would do whatever it took to be the best woman God had created her to be, even if that meant losing her life.

When Daphne returned home from her service overseas, she married the man who’d asked and waited patiently for her “not now” to turn into a “yes”. She raised a wonderful family, has 3 grandchildren and 3 great-grandchildren. On December 6th, she will turn 92 years old. She has watched the United States fight several wars and win, lose, or who knows, she’s still proud to call this country home. Daphne knows why the United States of America is great, above all the reasons why we’ve become jaded. She is not rolling in money, or wearing expensive clothes, or living in a castle. But Daphne is free, and she fought to preserve that for everyone who calls America home.

Daphne Smith is everything it means to be an American. Thank you grams, for showing us what that looks like.

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Anne has the personality I secretly desire, but try to keep to myself.

She moved to Saint Augustine 22 years ago from England, and has lived in the exact same spot since becoming an ex-pat. Anne owns The King’s Head British Pub on US1 in Saint Augustine, and lives in a small apartment on the property. She’s far from the typical restaurant owner of 20 years; every day that the pub is open, you can find Anne behind the bar and calling all of the shots.

It took Marshall and I a while to try King’s Head, as we (Marshall mostly) are avid review readers. To put it kindly, the pub got mixed reviews. Most that we read talked about the owner and how awful the service was. The words rude and slow came up more than a few times.

Well, I now understand all of the poor reviews we read. I don’t think most of them are fair, but none of them came as a surprise after trying the pub for ourselves. BUT! Marshall and I enjoyed our visit to the pub more than we’ve enjoyed many restaurants in St. Augustine.

Anne is not someone for the faint of heart. She is not to be reckoned with. She is certainly however, wonderful.

Anne serves no pretense. If you are arrogant, she’ll make sure you are uncomfortable with that before you leave. If you are rude, you can bet she’ll top it.  If you tend to speak before you think, you’ll leave doing just the opposite. Customers at the King’s Head are far from being “always right”.  I strongly believe in impeccable customer service, and have learned it’s value in more ways than one, but I really believe Anne is the one who has it right. She’s glad you chose her restaurant. She’s happy to serve you. But don’t be a jerk because then, all of that goes out the window.

As Marshall and I sat at the bar and talked with Anne, she was extremely happy to answer any questions we had about British beer, food or culture. She told us about her daughter who still lies in the U. K., why she chooses cats over dogs, why she’s closed on Mondays and Tuesdays, and why she spends most of the night sucking on an electric “cigarette”. My favorite answer of all came when we asked her if she ever took any time off and she said “We’ll yes. Just to go do the right things like get a pap smear.” The look on Marshall’s face? hysterical!

I’m sure my wit will never match Anne’s, and I can’t do it justice by typing out examples of her personality, but I am always thankful to experience someone like her and have that piece of me awakened. I hope to spend more time at The King’s Head British Pub and learn even more about this woman with the crazy hair and attitude to match it.

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                                                                       Photo Credit: TheGoodSpot.us

Today I met a man who loves to travel. In fact, he’s leaving Saturday and taking his wife and 14 year old daughter to Bali and Thailand. Then, they will return home while he continues on to India. (Jealous!)

The photo above is one of the masks Phil has in his gallery, Grace World Folk Art Gallery. Phil is originally from the west coast, but eventually made his way east to Saint Augustine. He showed me some really cool pieces made out of bone, my favorite being an intricate turtle. He travels all over the world to collect folk art, brings it home, and will be happy to share the story behind any piece in his shop.

I asked Phil if he enjoyed life in St. Augustine. He said that the world was too small here. He thought this was a great place to raise a family, and that the public education system in St. Johns county was worth living here for. But, he said that staying here was a lot like eating the same food over and over again. After a while it just doesn’t taste good anymore and you need to rejuvenate your mood and overall being.

One of the things I found most interesting about Phil was his aversion to the history of St. Augustine. Unlike Barbara, Phil was not proud of the history. He said the Karma just isn’t good. Phil livened up (in a way that showed his passion for forgotten histories) as he spoke about the horrible atrocities caused to the Native American prisoners held at Fort Marion (known to most as Castillo de San Marcos). He condemned the KKK rallies that frequented the streets and made known the fact that Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. was arrested only a few blocks away from where we spoke. He became obviously annoyed at the thought of the “good-old-boy” government that seemed to still reign over the area. He advised not to ruffle their feathers or they would come at you any way they could. The disney land effect around here stays in tact as long as you keep quiet he warned.

                                                                         Photo credit: historiccity.com

In all, Phil seemed to be a very docile man with a lion inside. His long hair, slim build, what some might call hippie attire, and peaceful demeanor were quickly shoved aside when the history of oppression in this community came to light. I could tell that more than traveling to exotic lands and bringing jewels home to sell, Phil really loves people and believes in kindness. It was as though he wanted to protect the victims who are too quickly forgotten in a place like St. Augustine.

I sincerely appreciate my encounter with Phil. He’s someone I would really enjoy sharing a few beers and a longer conversation with. It’s crazy how easy it is for us to forget history, even in a place that boasts its longevity.

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