Off/On/Off/On

Growing up in Port Arthur, TX during the 50’s, 60’s and 70’s appears to have been an interesting time. Janis Joplin and I didn’t share the same perspective of my hometown. I lived a rather idyllic life, perhaps truly with my fingers in my ears saying “nyah-nyah-nyah” and not paying one bit of attention to what was going on around me. Or at least that is what my brothers think. I never had even heard of the term “refinery mentality” until I was grown. I had no idea that people thought less of Port Arthurans, or that we were suspected to be rough or trashy. Never crossed my mind. I was just living the life: growing up, going from watching Gunsmoke to the Monkees on TV, being in Blue Birds and Campfire, dance lessons from “Mr Johnny”, piano lessons, going to Central Baptist Church and involved in every facet of church life, touring with Melody Maids, loving school, and liking boys. (It was always the boys that kept me in trouble beginning in 1st grade. I had to sit in the corner for kissing Jimmy Hughes behind the boiler house at Lee elementary school. It went kinda down hill from there, I guess. But this is DEFINITELY another story!)

On the surface, my parents were fairly typical parents, too. Mother was involved in our lives, doing all of the right mother stuff. One major difference, however was that mother worked. None of my other friends’ moms worked. Mine did well, too. Made good money, too. Daddy worked at Texaco, always working shift work, plus he always had a second or third job. He loved money, and loved to spend it, too. My parents and their money. I never truly understood it, I always guessed it was living during the Depression and being old enough to be affected by the loss AND remembering it!.

I really can never remember much “cussing’ growing up. My daddy threw a few of “damns” and “hells” around when things were tense at home, and I actually remember him getting mad at some parents that he felt were neglecting their kids and called them “lazy SOB’s” however with words included. But my mama simply abhorred dirty language. The end. Or it was until we kids got older and cussing was the way to express yourself and be cool. Or so we thought.

My brother, Kelly, was the first to try to get away with cussing in front on my mama. I would say he was a brave soul, but he wasn’t – just nervy! He got mad and said, “that just pisses me off”. Well my mother, in her soft ways, just looked him DIRECTLY in the eyes and said, “Well, Kelly, I’ve found that it’s always better to be pissed off than to be pissed on”. Talk about shutting a mouthy teenager up!Think about that next time you say the phrase...Hm-m-m-m. Whole new perspective, huh.

The next one to try to “mouth off” in front of Mama was my friend Vikki. I could never imagine Vikki getting sassy enough with my mom, but she did – once. She was standing by the back door and said “S—T”. With her typical sleekness, Mama looked at Vikki (yes, directly in the eyes) and said, “You know, Vikki, I wouldn’t have that on my shoe, much less in my mouth”. Talk about getting the point across!!!

But that was it. I spent years learning to cuss and out cuss just about everybody! I thought it was so cool. No one could convince me that “studies showed” that only dumb people cussed because they didn’t know what else to say. Wrong. I knew exactly what to say. Then I met Paul. He wasn’t real fond of trashy mouth girls. Okay, I’ll clean up this mouth a little. Then came Adam. I wasn’t about to have my child hear me cuss. I’ll clean up this mouth some more. (Don’t you wish the parents behind you in WalMart felt that way now!!!) Then came the Lord, and he finished the work. Oh, I have to admit, it hasn’t always been easy, but it has always been right.

Recently, I was introduced to a new facet / opponent in my new career: Insurance companies. Whether it is Blue Cross, or Medicare, or Medicaid – I feel like I have met a worthy adversary. They truly have strange, ingenious torture systems built right into them. They do not want to give you money, they do not want to have to pay a claim, and they want you to be the one to quite trying. They know how to hold you over the pit trying to get you to yell “uncle, uncle – you win”. A worthy adversary, indeed. However, like in most other times in my life when I am faced with an obstacle, I do one of two things, (rarely anything in the middle): I determine that I will win, or I quickly abdicate and let the new opponent win.

Oh-h-h-h…this time I WILL win. But it is quite a learning curve that seems endlessly long. And it has brought out my evil twin. I have let my mouth override my common sense. It has been such a frustrating endeavor trying to win the Match, that when I have lost Round 1 or Round 2, I have said the “wordy dird”. Felt good. Felt appropriate. Felt like I had control. NOT! NOT! NOT!

Thankfully, conviction is winning and so is God. I have NO desire to have to relearn some of the many lessons I have had to learn in the 25 years that I have strived to live for God. I do not EVER want to go back, either.

So why the mouth? Who knows! Whatever! Going through this strange depression surely hasn’t helped my frame of mind. I just know that not only can I hear the sigh of God when I am saying trash I don’t need to say, but also I can hear Jessie’s sigh of frustration, too. I can see her face with those piercing brown eyes just boring holes through me letting me know SHE KNEW I’d done something wrong. She was never a yeller, or a screamer, rarely even raised her voice. BUT she did know how to give “the look”. I was so glad she was a forgiving mom, and knew how to help me get right and want to do right, too.

So glad He’s a forgiving God, and knows how to help me get right and want to do right, too. More importantly, I so glad He’s the God of 2nd chances – and 3rd, and 4th, and 5th one, too.