Thirty Days

I am definitely showing my vulnerability. Such an incredible way to embarrass myself completely. I am willing to take that chance…

Just today, I told a young friend of mine who is very new to the world of “blogging”, that I didn’t blog like most people: I didn’t write the daily goings on, or daily thoughts of my life. However, I still loved blogging. I started this journey using this writing as a vehicle for me to finally get my “stories” written down. You know, for posterity, and all of that. HAHA.

Point of Departure...

However, today marks a very important day to me. And, perhaps if I use a rather public forum to “announce” it, to talk about it, I will find success in my new venture.

I have struggled with my weight for 26 years now. No, that really isn’t true. It’s been a lifelong dilemma, just at different levels. I was “chubby” as a kid. Never ever fat, just more than I needed. I had a “normal” weight from about 12 to 17 years old. I gained a little extra weight in a fun summer in California before my Senior year. I got the extra pounds off very quickly and kept it off until my second baby. By then, I was 28 years old and it is not chubby anymore – but fat!!

I have added and subtracted, then added again, and find myself now at 54 years old fatter that I ever ever dreamed was possible. I have never had any health problems associated with the weight, until now. For all of my life, I have had low blood pressure. Too low sometimes, especially when I was having migraines. But, the opposite is oh-so-true these last couple of months. My blood pressure has been stroke level, and difficult to control.

I could elaborate here talking of other health issues, but there’s no need. Let it suffice to say there are some.

Oh, diets. I have tried them all. As a family, we try to eat very healthfully, I just like lots of healthy food. HAHA! I know it is almost past time to get serious.

Let me begin by saying my Dr is a very good friend. I like her a great deal, and trust her opinion. She feels that I am a prime candidate for lap-band surgery. She has already talked to my insurance and certified that the procedure in medically necessary, and therefore my insurance will pay for it.

I am not really sure this is what I want to do. So I have read everything I can find about the surgery, talked with several people that have had it done, talked with a surgeon yesterday.

Still, I am not sure. So, I decided that I would try to just “eat” the way one must eat after the procedure and see where that will get me. Think about it: you only get to eat 6-8 oz of food 6 times a day, with 64 oz of water “sipped” during the day. The first couple of weeks, perhaps even month, is limited to liquids and soft foods, protein drinks being a chief source of nutrition.

Come on now!!! If any “fatty” only drinks 48 ozs of “food” for about 6 weeks, one should definitely expect some changes. Right!?! So, I am going to try this first.

Oh yeah, I joined Curves today for 30 days.

So, on July 5th, my 30 days will be up with Curves and I will have completed 30 days of the Kathleen’s not-lap-band-non-surgery diet. It can’t help but be different.

Later…

Happy 31st Anniversary - 5/28/2007

31 years!

Who can believe it!

Thirty-one years ago today, Paul and I were married. It was a sweet, simple, yet beautiful ceremony. We had planned and planned wanting everything to be “Just Perfect”, but we didn’t want to spend lots of unnecessary money. The day finally arrived. If you know me very well, for me to tell you the wedding started almost one hour late, you’re not surprised! But it really did start late…The florist was lost, and then didn’t bring the correct flowers. It was ridiculous! My poor mama was frantic, but I wasn’t too worried. I was so in love and so ready to get married to Paul, I didn’t care what happened.

I have so much to be thankful for that day. Paul is a God-given gift to me. God sent Paul into my life when I was definitely at the nadir of my existence. There were family troubles, failed relationships, worthless friendships, and life going haywire. However, when I reached that bottom, I remembered all of that Sunday School training and did the only thing I knew to do – PRAY. And honestly, while I was praying, telling God that I was ready to turn my life around, the phone rang, and it was Paul. I had met him about 7 weeks before, but had not heard from him at all. I was fairly taken with him the one time I met him, (in fact, I even called my mama the night I met Paul and told her I had met her future son-in-law! She told me to go to sleep and call her in the morning...) but wasn’t sure how he felt about me until he called. 17 months later we were married…

I have had a wonderful life being Paul’s wife. He has been so good to me, spoiled me mercilessly. He’s a fabulous husband, a wonderful daddy, a good provider in all ways, not just monetarily. Oh, he is not perfect. He’s anal, a major procrastinator, a “believer in compromise – as long as you do it his way” type of guy. He treats me like I’m 10 years old, and I hate it, but then if I wouldn’t act like I was 10, things would be different. HAHAHA.

Basically, our lives have been very equitably meshed together. I am the one who likes to be the center of attention; he doesn’t like attention. I like to be up front “being the star of the show”; he is definitely the behind the scenes worker. I like the whole cart and pony show; Paul is cleaning up after the pony. But it has worked so well for us. He has been my biggest fan, the “push” in my life. I don’t always have the best of self-confidence, possess limited self-esteem, but Paul has always believed in me. He helped me all of the way getting my Master’s degree, overcoming obstacles, and some serious collegiate departmental politics.

When we decided that I should be a “stay-at-home” Mama, he was there for me against the odds of most of our friends and family. He learned to love beans and rice so we could afford for me to stay home. He was my rock steady against ill winds when we chose a brand of parenting that was foreign to most people. He learned to love snuggling with his wife and his babies in a family bed. I could go on and on with examples of Paul’s love and support of me and our kids, but the greatest instance of this love was demonstrated from 1990 until 2007. Paul was my greatest support for my participation in the Christian education of our children. What a gift to me, what a gift to our children, and to others. What a wonderful man, what a magnanimous contribution he was willing to make.

It is simple: He had my back.

Last year, as we celebrated our 30th anniversary, we went out for desserts with our sons and their “others.” We had a wonderful time and we have the greatest pictures of the night to prove it! One of my favorite pictures is right here. I just thought it was “so cute.” However, as I truly looked over these pics with a more discerning eye, I noticed something else.

Yes, while I have basked in the knowledge of my wonderful husband always standing not only with me, standing not only for me, but my support system standing behind me, I now know how he’s survived.

He has made faces behind my back all of these years.

Who would believe this!!!

HAHAHA – I love it, and I love him!

(and he says he "hates" this picture - too bad!)

Happy Anniversary, Paul!!!

Blue, Baby Blue

Just for you, APN---

How do people tell stories with laying the proper foundation!? This process makes my stories so much longer than they probably need to be, but…

No one, and I mean no one at all, advised Paul and me what the 3rd addition of a child would do to our family. With only 2 children, there is balance. There is one child for each of you. Or if mom is out by herself, she still has two hands – one for each child. What is a mama to do with baby #3? I know God made mothers to be able to master incredible feats, but face it – we only have 2 arms and 2 hands. Puts a whole new flavor to the ice cream…

Matthew was born October 1. He was such a beautiful baby boy, and such a GOOD baby. I felt so blessed, but still a little overwhelmed. Adam was in the first grade, had a VERY strict, anal teacher. So, even though he was an incredible student and NOT at all a discipline problem – in fact, he made “citizen of the month” the first month of school - mom forgetting to give him his lunch one day, and Adam not telling mom he needed more notebook paper because he didn’t want to bother her since she and the baby were tired, just pushed the teacher into orbit. In fact, she even sent him to the office, made him call home and “tell why he was in trouble.” Do I need to say how close the teacher and I became that year?!

It was right after Thanksgiving that Entergy sent Paul to California to go to a school. Great timing, huh! We missed him, but I have always loved Christmas, so to keep my mind occupied, I just jumped into the middle of decorating and getting ready. I thought it would be so cute to make all of the boys, and Paul, matching sweatshirts. I wanted them to have green shirts with a brown fuzzy reindeer on the front. They would look so cute. So, whatever “down” time I had I was sewing.

At that time, every Christmas, Entergy had HUGE Christmas parties for the workers’ families with children. It was a very big thing, too. Everyone came, there were NICE presents for the kids, food, fun and, of course, SANTA!!! I was a little nervous about going without Paul, but I knew other people that would be there and besides that, like I said, it was a very big event! No one wanted to miss it!

On the afternoon of the party, I finally got Matthew to sleep, and decided to take a shower and get myself ready ahead of time. Wanted to look festive, you know!

In a previous story, I introduced the Allison’s. This was one of the days that Christopher was at the house with Andrew. That should pique some interest. Things never were calm with the two of them together. (Let me interject that things weren’t calm with Andrew and Kyle together, or Andrew and Blaine together, or Andrew and Jerry together, etc. Do you see the underlying thread in all of these scenarios? Hm-m-m-m. Make no mistake. You’re right in your assumption!)

I showered, rolled my hair, listening for the boys the whole time. The sounds were “normal” household / play sounds for the most part. Then before you know it, it was just a little quieter than it should be. Of course, all mothers know that when things are quiet, or are “too” quiet – you have a problem.

However, I quickly knew things were all right, because I heard the Lego bucket getting turned over, sounds of play, and knew they were doing okay.

Mind you, I was a VERY attentive mom. Played right there with the boys most of the time. SO, let me assure you, a lot of time HAD NOT passed, yet.

Soon it was time for me to have to go get Adam from school. I needed to wake the baby, get Andrew and Christopher, and head down the street to Tyrrell. I walked into the room where Matt was asleep and the first thing I noticed was that the baby was NAKED. This was NOT the way I left him. The next thing that I saw was that he was BLUE. Yes, BLUE.

By way of story-telling, let me elaborate here: When Matt was born, he was not breathing, and was declared “dead” by the OB delivering him. He was the most intense color of blue I had ever seen – something I will NEVER forget! SO---

So---seeing him BLUE again just made my heart lurch into my throat, and I immediately rushed over to him. However, I then noticed that the BLUE was little circles each with a flower in the middle of it. Hm-m-m-m… I grabbed a blanket, wrapped the baby up, and went to check on Andrew and Christopher. Can’t imagine why I would suspect them of anything, huh?!

Those two little “darlings” had taken all of Matt’s clothes off him, and taken a STAMP marker and stamped him ALL OVER! I was livid. I “stormed” into the older boy’s bedroom, and there they sat. They looked like little meek lambs, playing contentedly in the middle of the bedroom building towers, or something.

I rushed into the kitchen and tried to bathe the baby as quickly as I could to get the marker off. Of course, this didn’t work in the slightest, for you see, I only bought quality toys, books, and “educational” presents for the boys. If it would have been “RoseArt” cheap stamps, I wouldn’t have had a problem. But, since I bought premium markers and stamps, adding water only made the blue circles RUN TOGETHER and absolutely cover the baby. I had a BLUE baby for sure, now.

OH NO!! I HAD A SMURF!! That is EXACTLY what he looked like. BABY SMURF had come to live at the Newton house. How exciting is that.

It didn’t stop the Christmas event from happening, and we all donned our new reindeer sweatshirts and went to Beaumont for the production. Kathleen, her 2 older boys, and their new Smurf baby.

The icing on this cake is when we got to the Christmas party – remember this is 1985 – it was beautifully decorated. They always went overboard making things special. And guess what the theme was ---???

Yes, you guessed right! It was Christmas at the Smurf village. Even Santa was “Papa Smurf”!

Everyone there just laughed and laughed, thought it was GREAT, and acted so surprised that I had dressed our new baby to match the theme. They really were probably thinking I was a lunatic to bring my obviously very sick baby with such a horrible breathing problem out in the cold weather. I don’t know. This is another one of those times that there are vague moments in my memory. Some things are probably for the best…

What I do know is that we had a good time, got cute toys, drank punch, and had bites of a giant Smurf cake. Plus, my three boys looked so cute in their matching sweatshirts, even if Matt looked like a Smurf. AND, thankfully, it gave me a chance to “cool down” and collect my thoughts, and Andrew and Christopher are still alive today.

I somewhere in my house is a picture of the cute sweatshirts. Who knows where, though...

What do you want for Mother’s Day?

All of us moms know if you have to ask, we don’t want it. HAHAHA.

Seriously, though, I don’t want anything, I really don’t. I am at the age and time in my life that if I really do want something, I just get it. Of course, the fortunate part to this scenario is that I do NOT have extravagant taste – mine are not of the “Champagne taste” category. My wants are fairly conservative, and with the exception of dishes and scrapbook stuff, there aren’t many “things” I feel I just have to have. If I’m at the store and see a blouse I want and it’s ON SALE, and in my size, well, I’ll probably get it. If I see the newest Patterson or Steele book and it’s ON SALE, well I just might get it, too. But that’s about it.

HOWEVER, I CAN tell you what the

GREATEST MOTHER’S DAY GIFTS

really are. How do I know that? Well, I know what they are because I have gotten them recently. Here’s the list:

1. A trip home to spend the weekend, “just because”. Our oldest son lives in Northwest Houston, and like most almost 29 year olds, leads a very busy, involved life. He has started to make time about every 6 weeks or so, creating a weekend that he has free (probably loses money, too) to come home. Nothing fancy, nothing grand, just here with his family. (how many of you moms watched the NFL draft with your son? Talk about quality time! Or something like that!!!)
2. Surprised visits – the same son shocked the shinola out of me 2 years ago when he just showed up at church for Mother’s day festivities. Really made me cry and cry!!
3. A call of the telephone asking me where I am!!! What a wonderful change of circumstances. The boys want to make sure that I am safe!!!
4. The “I will meet you at the store” telephone calls. Stephen and Andrew are always “willing” to go with me to the store. This really isn’t true for, basically, their dad has trained them this way, I know. BUT, the flip side real TRUTH OF THE MATTER is - they do go!!! They are there for me. They know I hate to go by myself, and don’t like me to have to carry things out by myself.
5. The “what can I cook for dinner” phone calls!!! They’re great, too. Andrew has definitely spoiled his mama. Of course, it has been SO MUCH MORE than that, too. He has tried to take such good care of me, doing what he does best by keeping our house clean, dinners cooked, clothes washed and folded, etc during this past year of my dark abyss.
6. My red lap top bag. Matt, you did WELL with this one!!!
7. The fact that I have 3 chauffeurs. Especially, Stephen just will do what he has to do to take me where I have to go. I hate to drive anymore. (In fact, he has even driven me more than once to Port Arthur to see Bro and Sis DeLano. I know he was excited! NOT!)

CAN YOU TELL THAT I AM REALLY

THE QUEEN!

And recently, I got this gift:

Two years ago, Matt and I sat down and had a heart to heart talk about college. Adam and Andrew had flown through college, both doing incredibly well. (Adam is a given, and then Andrew did not even buy a book in the years he was at SHSU, worked 50+ hours a week, and then graduated with honors and a 3.5 GPA) Matt was trying to emulate his brothers, but wasn’t as successful. His hard-headed self was going to do it by himself – come hell or high water.

I told him of my mother, who very early in my education, realized I didn’t learn quite like everyone else. I was an auditory learner, and definitely a “hands-on” learner. I could read and read, but never completely understand and truly comprehend what I was reading. My mama taught me about flashcards, reading aloud to her or myself, writing down what I was learning, etc, etc. She spent many nights calling out spelling word, calling out tests, makings funny acrostics and acronyms to facilitate my memory. She was great. She was there all the way even through my Master’s Degree helping me learn and memorize. I graduated with honors with my BS and Summa Cum Laude with my MEd. She did something right.

I have tried to do the same. (It really helped in Bible Quiz – hahaha) I never minded studying anything to prepare the guys for a test. We have written, typed, sang silly songs, played games, etc. to help the learning process. So why would do anything different now. I tried to assure Matt that I was “in this for the long haul” and would do what it would take to help him.

Fast forward to May 2008.

It was late Monday night. Well, not really. It was early Tuesday morning. 2:30 to be exact. Matt had LOTS going on both in school for finals, and with his job as Program Director for El Rancho Cima Boy Scout Ranch. It had been a LONG couple of weeks of trying to get the “research paper from Hell” finished. And it is due today!!! The teacher wanted 15-20 pages, at least 10-12 sources. Matt and I have a system – he talks and I type. Granted, he talks a lot faster than I type, but after this long, we do “pretty good”. He has his own definite style of expressingly himself – getting his opinion across - so I have to pay close attention to type it correctly. (if you know what I mean!)

I was exhausted. It had been several nights of this. We finished. I left the office for him to go through the paper one more time reviewing for any overlooked errors, for the paper to be copied, and things shut down for the night. I went to lie down on the couch. I was fairly “wound up” and knew I couldn’t go to bed immediately, or I would twist and turn and disturb Paul.

Matt walked into the living room, went to the door to leave to go to his room, turned, and said, “Good night, and thank you, Mama.”

He quickly opened the door. Then, just as quickly, he shut it. He walked over to the couch, stood right in front of me and said, “I hope you know I really do love you, Mama.”

There is NOTHING at the mall

that can compete with this.

I love you guys, and THANK YOU Paul, for being the best husband and daddy, and for helping me become the mama that I am.

Happy Mother’s Day to Me!

And of course to all of the other mother-type people in my life.

Yes, he still has 10 toes - big and hairy now, but still 10 toes!

What in the world are you talking about, Kathleen, one might ask. Well, this is a Matt and Stephen story…

I don’t think there are many “visitors” to this blog that don’t already know my family-know my sweet husband, my 4 great boys - but for those who are not long time friends, I felt I needed to write a Matt or Stephen story to “introduce” more of my family. Of course, I also don’t need any more “sibling rivalry” in my household, so I am attempting the more “well-rounded” approach.

And while this story seems slightly far-fetched, it is quite true – only at the Newton Nut House…

Matthew was only 14 months old when I found out I was pregnant with baby #4. Matt was such a great baby. Beautiful. Such a cute little boy with white-blond hair. Sweet face and the sweet disposition. Gorgeous smile that one saw ALL of the time! “Sheer bliss and happiness.” He was such a great baby, and only 22 months old when Stephen was born.

Matt had been sick over the weekend and first thing Monday morning, I called the doctor for an appointment. I was very pregnant, and had been having LOTS of labor pains for several days, so the pediatrician got me into the office as quickly as possible. My mama gave over to watch Adam and Andrew, and my friend Cinda Aery came to drive me and Matt to the dr’s office. It was there that things really got exciting…

While standing at the dr’s office signing Matt it, be quickly became completely evident that before too long the Newton’s number 4 baby would be here.

Having 3 previous labor and deliveries that went quickly, we all knew that this delivery would be maybe too quick. My doctor, knowing that I hated hospitals and detested a great deal of medical intervention with my babies, made me promise to get to the hospital as soon as possible – he didn’t want me to have the baby in the car. So, as soon as Paul made it home, we were off.

Of course, things never go as they seem and even before birth Stephen it should have been evident that Stephen was going to do things his way. If only we would have seen more of the signs – hm-m-m. Hindsight is always 20/20. Just kidding, Stephen. But, in reality things were and still are definitely different with him. I basically had 3 very easy births with the other boys, but some HOW, some WAY, Stephen got just enough sidewise during labor that he wasn’t able to come down the birth canal. The dr, just laughed – really – said that is was impossible. For once the baby was engaged in the birth canal it couldn’t just move out of it and move around, but alas, this baby #4 did! We tried EVERYTHING known at the time to get the baby to move back into position, turn, do something, but it wouldn’t budge. We knew that it was a large baby, and that was why it was having trouble moving - there wasn’t room. Things went from ”this is different”, to we have a “crisis on our hands” and I was rushed off to the OR for an emergency caesarean section.

My OB and our pediatrician were both fabulous doctors, and while very conservative in their medical approach, were very progressive in thought. Everyone agreed that barring any problems, I would immediately have the baby, we would return to the room, and after the first 24 hours, I could go home to my family – back to my “sheer bliss and happiness.” I was concerned with Matthew because at 22 months, he had never been separated from me. Well, not only did the quick labor turn into a fiasco, I have several other major problems and my 24-hour stay was now on day 3. While we had been very pro-active in getting the boys ready for the “new arrival, and while Mama and Paul had brought the boys up to the hospital to see me and the “new baby,” Matthew would have NOTHING to do with me. He wouldn’t talk to me, or look at me or let me hug him. I was devastated. I could just look into his face and read, “You left me, and not only have you not come home, I come to see you, and here you are piled up in the bed, I can’t lay on you and snuggle, and NOW there’s this little THING with you”. Very upsetting for everyone, to say the least. I begged my OB to let me go home to my family, and he agreed. Finally, we were on our way to “sheer bliss and happiness”…

I definitely was “bright enough” to not walk into the house holding the baby. I went in loving on the boys. Matt very shyly seemed to be coming around, and soon we made it to the living room and he immediately snuggled up with me on the couch. Yes, the “sheer bliss and happiness” is going to still be right here. No sibling rivalry at the Newton’s!

Being so actively involved in many mothering and parenting organizations, my boys were around other’s babies all of the time. I had always cautioned them to not hold the babies’ hands, but they could pat their little feet. Matthew was so sweet. He kept coming up to me as I was holding Stephen in my arms, patting me and patting the baby. It wasn’t long before he asked to “kiss the baby’s feet”. Isn’t this just too cute! I am ecstatic! My wonderful family of all boys living in “sheer bliss and happiness.” Couldn’t get much better. So, with that cute, innocent little smile of his, Matt SWEETLY took Stephen’s little foot in his hands and began kissing his toes.

Suddenly, with lightening speed, he bared his teeth and sunk them down into Stephen’s toes! Stephen started SCREAMING; Matthew started SCREAMING; I was horrified, and felt like SCREAMING.

HE BIT HIS TOES. AND HE NEARLY BIT THEM OFF!!!!! If you don’t know, I will tell you – babies little toe bones aren’t completely calcified and “attached” to the feet. And Matt bit the toes right at the joint where they should attach to the foot.

NOW MY BABY HAS 3 TOES JUST DANGLING ON THE END OF HIS FOOT BY MERE STRIPS OF SKIN.

Of course, there is Daddy to the rescue. He takes Stephen, wraps his foot up (little if any blood involved), I get Matt into my lap to settle him down, and after an interminable length of time, we assess the damage and decide that a hospital visit might be necessary to stitch the toes back on the foot.

Needless to say, we were received with many chuckles and downright laughs at the ER! After a couple of stitches in 2 little toes, we are back home.

I would LOVE to say that everything was “sheer bliss and happiness” after that one incident, but I would definitely be lying. We had never had a playpen with the first 3 boys, nor had we used a baby bed since Adam was about 9 months old. However, it wasn’t long before I had to use both: Not to keep the baby “in” something, but to keep Matt “out” from the baby. He would sit on Stephen, lay down on him, put LOTS of covers or pillows over him, put LOTS of toys on him – need I go on. I had to do whatever I could to keep the baby safe. Matt always assured me the baby wanted the covers, the baby wanted him to jump on him, etc. It was a trip! Yes, I could go on, to the story about the broom and the Dr Scholl’s shoes, but those are for later. Don’t want to overload you with too much fun at one sitting…

And here we are, 20 years later. And while the implements of “torture” have changed, the attitudes haven’t. Oh, I have NO doubt that they love each other, and, as brothers, have each other’s back, but they are still a trip! They still can’t get along very well. They just now have MUCH to say to each other about EVERY thing. Don’t believe me? Just ask all of the people that sit behind us at church.

Rev Guy C Broadway - and Old Soldier...

General Douglas McArthur, one of America’s most formidable, prominent, and memorable military leaders, in a speech given before a joint session of Congress during the Korean war, made the line from an old army ballad quite famous. He felt he was talking the heartbeat of the military.

At 54 years old, I have known quite a few guys in the military – from old boyfriends, to cousins to uncles, now some students. Every one of my mother’s six brothers served in the military. Even Paul and his dad and Paul’s brother David all served in the military. All branches of the armed forces have been represented in my acquaintances. Some serve their minimum time, others “Lifers.” Let it suffice to say that many men I have known in my life had donned the uniform and served their country. Mostly with pride and a true sense of duty.

They might have served in the military and were soldiers at the time, but none of them was what I think McArthur was talking about when he made his speech. The type of soldiers of days past is not the soldiers we know now. And, whether that is for the best or not is not the topic of this writing. And, I do not know if McArthur’s saying is true or not. I’ve never had the chance to know any US Military type of soldiers at the end of their lives.

Before a packed room, McArthur quoted the ballad - instantly making the words famous: “Old soldiers never die, they just fade away.” However, I can say one thing for sure:

McArthur didn’t know the

Rev Guy C Broadway!

Bro Broadway was definitely a General in the Lord’s Army. A true Soldier of the Cross. Such an example of how we all must join and serve. As he once reminded me – “ya know, girl, (his name for me), once you are a front-line fighter in the Lord’s Army, there’s no turning back. In fact, there’s no R&R in God’s Army. We just fight!”

Even in his last year, full of hospitals, doctors, and sickness, anyone that knew him KNEW there was no way that Bro Broadway was going to “fade away” in any way, shape, or form.
Ø his wit and humor never faded
Ø his sparkle in his eyes never faded
Ø his work ethic never faded
Ø his LOVE for his beautiful wife, Rachel, never faded
Ø his desire to ONLY serve the Lord never faded
Ø his desire to win souls never faded
Ø his LOVE and complete DEVOTION to his Lord and Savior Jesus Christ NEVER NEVER NEVER faded.

And let me make one fact perfectly clear, he wasn’t just going to “fade away” from life, his church, his friends either. Even on his deathbed, he masterminded his last days – the cleaning of his yard, the goings on around the house – he was still in control. Why, he even orchestrated his own funeral.

Fade Away! I don’t even think so.

And let me say one more thing I know for sure: Rev Guy C Broadway will NEVER just “fade away” from any of our memories. Talk about making an impression. You didn’t just “meet” Bro Broadway. He was kind of like an “experience.”

And yes, while people for 50+ years have spoken of Gen McArthur, and his name is in history books all across America, I can say even more about Bro Broadway. Yes, I will also say that he was definitely a “formidable, prominent, and memorable leader” in God’s Army of Truth. People across Texas, the South, even the US know who Bro Broadway was. Everyone knows a story to tell about him, knows one of his stories or his jokes.

But more importantly, the Rev Guy C Broadway’s name is also written down for all of history - The Eternal life kind of history. And his name is in a book, too, for you’ll find his name written down in the most precious, most important book – The Lamb’s Book of Life.

As Promised: An Adam Story

Again, some background info: Mary and Ellis Martinez were probably our dearest friends in Port Arthur. Mary and I met at a La Leche League meeting, Adam was just months old, as was her Christina. Their birthdays are only 4 days apart. It was an instant bonding. We truly were inseparable after that – everyone knew that if you couldn’t find Mary at home, call Kathleen, and vice-versa. Our Andrew was born in Feb of ‘82, their Erik in Nov of the same year. More bonding… Not only did we have our kids in common, we both loved kids period, plus, we both loved to sew and craft, loved to cook, loved our families, and were “stay-at-home mothers”. (that moniker is a joke, because Mary and I were so busy with our kids and families we were never home – hahaha!) And – hey, Mary – we Newtons all remember that huge Lincoln you use to drive all over town. And then the potty in the van. Carne guisado at “Grandma Liscano’s. Dickens. Renaissance Festival. What memories… Oh well, back to the story…

I really am not sure what year it was, but it was September. Time for the Mexican Heritage Fiesta in Port Arthur. Mary’s children had always danced in the fiesta as soon as they were old enough. She and I have made many a gorgeous costumes for the occasions. Christina’s “ribbon dress” was my all time favorite – the hardest, yet the prettiest! Mary and I would spend time together sewing and making while the kids played. Adam and Christina were quite alike in their ways, as were Andrew and Erik. Made for two “two-somes” of friends. We were all entertained. Even when the Newtons added extras, they all seemed to fit right in together.

The festival was held each year at the Port Arthur Civic Center. We would go for practices and for fittings, and then, of course, for the fun. This story centers on one HECTIC day. Everything was going way too fast, there were many things left to still do, and precious little time to get it all done. Mary and I and the kids were at the Civic Center, and so were lots of our friends working and trying to get everything readied for the activities. We had worked quite a bit, we were all tired, but with much to do later. It was time to go. Time to round up the kids – the easy part, and get all of our stuff together to go home – the hard part.

We were trying to get everything together in one place – the lobby. We got the 4 older kids and asked them to stand together, outside, right outside the lobby doors while we grouped more stuff together and carried it to our cars. Suddenly it began to POUR!!! I mean really coming down. “Pitchforks and shovels” or “cats and dogs” whichever best describes the downpour. Mary and I rushed to get to the cars, and rushed back to the kids.

Now guess what we found?!? Out in the middle of the rain stood Adam and Christina. Andrew and Erik were nowhere to be seen. We grabbed the very WET kiddoes, and went inside to see 2 DRY little boys standing right by the door, waiting for us.

.
Why were Adam and Christina standing in the pouring down rain one asks?!? Well, that is where they were told to stand. They were doing what they had been told to do. Compliant, sweet, mindful children. The 2 dry kids – well, one could easily say they had the “common sense to come in out of the rain”, which they did. They also knew well enough to not go “off” somewhere in the Civic Center. While neither Adam nor Christina had a self-righteous bone in their bodies, they knew that those two little boys should get in trouble for not minding. It was worth getting wet if it meant doing what you were told. In fact, they told Andrew and Erik to do what “mama said”, but they wouldn’t listen. Of course, that wasn’t a news flash, either.

What’s a mother to do! This was not a win-win or lose-lose situation. AND, these situations and the appropriate responses are not ever described in “The Big Book of Mothering”. Don’t have a copy? Oh well. We did the only thing we knew to do, what we hopefully did the best: Just mothered them. We dried the wet ones off, got clean clothes for everyone, gave everyone a good snack to “hold ‘em” until dinner, told everyone we were proud of them – and then we loved them all – just the way they were, and ARE!!!

4-year-old's view of a Wesson oil party...

Since there are so many events that happened in the Newton household that I deem worthy of a “story” that include the Allison clan, I felt I needed to include some “background information” before I tackle another story. John and Mary Allison were not only our neighbors, but also our dear friends. I watched their children for years while they both worked. We camped together as families. We were involved in Scouting together – John, aka Yogi, was even Adam, Andrew, and Matt’s Scoutmaster for some period in there. I even spent many a midnight hour sewing motorcycle handlebar grips for John’s fledgling company “Wrap-on Industries.” Great times.

They had three sons: Wesley, who was 9 months older than Adam; Christopher, who was 8 months older than Andrew, and Michael who was 7 months younger that Matt. That made for 3 pairs of great buddies. More great times.

It is Christopher and Andrew who win the prize for most stories. I can promise you – what one didn’t think of the other did. They were a force to be reckoned with when they were together. They were very ingenious – clever, resourceful, creative – in their play, to say the very least. They were definitely outdoor boys, too. And we were outside as much as possible. I folded clothes outside. I had a 50 ft extension on the phone cord so I could talk outside. I even had a table sturdy enough so I could sew outside. Anything to keep Andrew, and Christopher, busy. Therefore, it is this beautiful springtime that always brings to mind most of their more unusual tactics.

We had a fence around our yard in Port Arthur. It was NOT necessarily built to keep people out – it was built to keep Andrew in. He was a master at escape. Whether it was carefully watching the cat to see what “holes” the cat maneuvered through to get out of the yard, and quickly following, to learning very early how to unlock the best of “childproof” devices. He was ready to go.

It was Spring Break 1986. As with many Spring Breaks that I can remember, it RAINED! Here you have kids at home and neighborhood kids at home, so everyone can play, and it rains. No outside for the guys. That “Go” that Andrew had inside of him needed some release. That’s the beginning of an “uh-oh”.

Since Mary was a schoolteacher, she was home. Adam was down at the Allison’s playing with Wesley; Christopher was with Andrew at our house. Matt was just a 5-month-old baby. Such idyllic life, huh. I don’t remember the time or necessarily the sequence of events surrounding this story, but I do know that I went into my bedroom to lie down and nurse the baby where it would be quieter. It was the quiet that was soon disturbing…

We had a big old house in Pt Arthur, but as a mother, I had learned most of the “sounds” that the kids generated. There were “play” sounds that came from the different rooms. However, it was soon almost too quiet in the other part of the house. Then I started hearing a very muffled giggle. I got up; sneaked quietly down the hall to get a peek at what the guys were doing.

THEY WERE HAVING A SLIP AND SLIDE “WESSON OIL” PARTY IN MY KITCHEN! How, you say. Well, they had opened a huge bottle of Wesson oil and poured it all over the vinyl floor. Then, they had taken off their clothes and were slipping and sliding everywhere. I had a big old kitchen and they were taking full advantage of it. They were having a great time.

I realized very quickly that I was NOT going to have a “Great Time” cleaning up the mess, but I really hated to stop their fun. I have to be honest and say I really wasn’t happy at all, though. What an INCREDIBLE mess, and what messy boys.

I scooped them up, put them in the tub with this wonderful product that would strip grease off anything, but was “earth friendly.” Then squirted this same product all over my kitchen floor and began the clean up.

Again, I must admit I don’t remember the specifics of the clean up – I really don’t. Especially after all of these years, my memories are somewhat selective: I like to remember to “good times.” What I best remember about this day was two naked little boys, all shined up and glistening, with eyes sparkling and twinkling over their chubby little hands that are covering their mouths so I wouldn’t hear their squeal of laughter, jumping, running, twisting and sliding all over the kitchen floor.

Oh Lord! What a mess. But, what a day. Why didn’t I have a camera back then? Thanks for the memories…Great life – great times!

Anchors Aweigh for real!

I learned something the other day. After years of only singing a song, having never seen the words to said song written down, I learned that the Navy’s Service Anthem is “Anchors Aweigh,” not “Away”. Gee, you can learn something reading your son’s newest literature left lying around the house.

“Hm-m-m-m”, one might say at this juncture. What is Navy reading material doing at the Newton home? Well, I am the proud mother of a brand new Sailor. Sailor? Seaman? Recruit? I’m really not sure just what to call Andrew these days. But he DID just join the Navy. Am I shocked? Yes, as shocked as shocked can be? But I also know just how much this mama, plus his daddy and his brothers and family and friends, etc. have been praying for Andrew’s job situation and for direction and for his future these last 9 months.

And YES! I do believe this is the divine will of God for his life. God’s word admonishes us after we’ve done all we can to stand and see what God can do. Well, I am ready! I can barely wait to see what God has in store for Andrew. It’s gonna be GREAT!

When I realized I had always assumed the spelling as away, like the anchors were gone, or at least going, and it was the different spelling, I had to admit I really didn’t know what “aweigh” meant. So, like the good student / teacher that I am, I immediately went to the internet to look up the definition of the word “aweigh”. What I found was profound to me…

And (drum roll, please) “aweigh” means by the Navy’s definition that the “actions has been completed. The anchor is “aweigh” when it is pulled from the bottom and the event is noted”. Another definition is that “the anchor is clear of the sea bottom and that, therefore, the ship is officially underway.” Or better yet, Merriam-Webster dictionary succinctly defines aweigh as “raised just clear of the bottom, and ready to move on.”

Anyone who knows anything about what Andrew – all of us that love him, too – has gone through these last months will shake their heads with me in agreement – this is it. This truly is IT! This is PERFECT.

So, as of tonight, with our newly enlightened vocabulary, it isn’t simply “Anchors Aweigh” we’re shouting at the Newton house, it’ll be “ANDREW AWEIGH”.

They are simple words to a very old hymn, but they are truth.
"Have Thine own way, Lord
Have Thine own way.
Thou are the Potter,
I am the clay.
Mold me and make me,
After thy will.
While I am waiting --
Yeilded, and still."

He’s raised you from the bottom and you’re ready to move on – with Him.

Love you, son. You’re a worthy man. You’re gonna have a blast! And yes – I am one proud mama!

And YES – you will look good in a uniform. HAHAHA!!!

"I'm baa-aa-aack..."

Oh, I’ve really missed this…blogging. Who’d a thought!?!?! I really loved telling stories about my family. I’m such a blessed woman having these men in my life. Truly a queen’s life…

For Erin, my newly-found friend, and Adam, not only my son, but my friend, I want to thank you for your continued encouragement. Erin, I honestly hope I have the honor and privilege of getting to meet you face to face someday. Your love and the love of God that shines through you has been a shining light to me in this terrible darkness of depression. Never, honey, will I ever be able to thank you for what possibly is just being you. You have the gift. I know by reading your blog that you and I are on such different life paths with different aspirations and different thoughts about many issues. However, I also know that reaching out, loving others, and trying to truly be a Jesus to those that may never see Him or know Him anywhere else is not only your heartbeat, but for years was also mine.

There was an old song that said, “When any one looks at me, let them see Jesus…Let me be the reflection of His love and mercy…” That was my theme song for so many years. It was why I did what I did – Why I taught mothering classes for 11 years. Why Paul and I encouraged other young couples to make Jesus first in their marriage. Why I went to WIC clinics to help young mothers learn to mother their children. Why I cared for so many children while their own mamas worked. Then ultimately, why I gave my life to Christian schools for 17 years. I will never forget what Jesus has done for me, and I wanted someone – everyone – to have such a wonderful life.

Now, the problem is what to do next. As I am seemingly climbing out of the dark abyss, not only again, but also hopefully for the last time, I stay poised and ready for God to move and open all of the fabulously wonderful doors for me to walk through – or run gracefully through, with this fully, wispy dress on, my hair loose in the breeze as I gently glide into this heavenly place. In my simple little mind’s eye of the child I really am, that is what I expect. That is what I really have expected to happen these last 12 months. (it seems more like 12 years ago that Paul and I told the Smith’s that I would be resigning at school). Of course, silly girl, dream on…

As I look into the reality of it all is I don’t think it’s happening that way. During the years of teaching high school aged kids, they always questioned me about how to know what direction God was taking them – what did they need to do to know what direction to go. I always told them to just keep on walking, don’t give up, and always staying “right”, for the steps of a right person will be ordered by God. He will direct your paths. His word says so, and He can’t lie.

I have been trying to take my own advice and just keep on walking. In the natural or physical realm, I have tried to start walking trying to help with the weight issues and the health issues, yet I have hurt my right leg, rupturing a varicose vein deep in the calf muscle. It is quite painful, and has seriously hampered the walking. I am not going to let it truly stop me, though. When I am trying to move, it is quite slowly, but I still am moving.

OK, God. In my spiritual realm, I will keep on moving. Maybe it is slower than it should be, but You and I know I have not given up, I’ve not turned at all. Been the proverbially “down and out”, but still here. I just know I must stay “right” and keep on moving. Baby steps sometimes, but moving thus the same…

While I am here, let me thank a few more people for being there for me:
§ Of course, Paul, who truly doesn’t understand at all why my brain works the way it does, but has loved me through it all and encouraged me to simply just get out of bed some mornings. HAHAHA.
§ My family for just continuing on and on. Andrew, you’re the best cook I know!!!
§ Mickey Blagg, for honestly and truthfully being the brightest light in my world. Thank you and thank you more for just being you, and loving me and my family.
§ Bro Guy C Broadway and his beautiful wife Rachel – who have been prayer warriors for me. How selfish of me to be needy of them this last year, but they have been there for me in ways unimaginable to others. My favorite Broadwayism: “just get up, put on your pants, and live for God. It is that easy.”
§ Melanie, not only my boss, but my bestest type of buddy. She loves me in spite of myself. Thanks for knowing that 8:34 or 8:37 was my kind of 8:30. hahaha!
§ And of course, my sisterhood – Amanda and Joyce – who through their own seemingly insurmountable trials of late, have loved me and have even become my “walking buddies” (or is that hop-a-long buddies, or strolling buddies, or sit and wait for Kathleen buddies, hm-m-m-m)

And NOW
On with...

MY STORIES



Again, sorry for the months and months delay, but hopefully you’ll stay for the rest of the journey…