Stress Busters (Sung to the tune of the Ghostbuster's Theme Song)
If you're packin' up and you're movin' south
Whatcha really need? (stress busters)
From city to country with heart in mouth
Whatcha really need? (stress busters)
You've got frantic jobs and a five month move
Whatcha really need? (stress busters)
Got snakes in the coop and you've lost your groove
Whatcha really need? (stress busters)
You're missin' your friends and it's harvest time
Whatcha really need? (stress busters)
If your internet can't get off the dime
Whatcha really need? (stress busters)
I ain't afraid of no stress
I ain't afraid of no stress
Bronchitis, surgeries, hospital stays
Whatcha really need? (stress busters)
Like game nights with friends and beach get-a-ways
Oh whatcha really need? (stress busters)
I ain't afraid of no stress
I ain't afraid of no stress
Give me outdoor walks and starry skies
Whatcha really need? (stress busters)
I need Jay's big hugs and Grandmama's pies
We really need stress busters
Bustin' makes me feel good
I ain't afraid of no stress.
It's a good thing my livelihood doesn't depend on my ability to write songs!!! This summer was certainly hectic with our move from the Ham (Birmingham) to the Gump (Montgomery). We are SO grateful to be settling into our new home now. The weather is beautiful these days in Prattville, with sunshine, cool temperatures, and changing leaves. Although sometimes summer is not quite willing to depart, it seems that autumn is here to stay! I have been learning about country life, or at least what is country life to me. I have grown up in the suburbs of larger cities, either in a subdivision or apartment complex with neighbors on all sides. Now we're a few miles outside of a small town where everything is more spread out. Perhaps it's the best of both worlds, but time will tell! It is a relief that the grass has hit a growth stunt for now, because we have a lot of it. But I have really enjoyed having a yard where I can walk out my front door and be in the wonderful outdoors. We have frantically been picking field peas to freeze for the winter. It is a process that requires all hands on deck, and we have also had the help of wonderful friends to assist in the effort! The best part is having access to a machine that does the shelling, which allows us to process a much greater number of peas (my grandparents did not have the luxury of a pea shelling machine when they were growing up!). Now we have gallons and gallons to enjoy and share, and it really doesn't get much better than a bowl of hot field peas with cornbread :-) I'm just saying! My grandma is already calling me a country girl, haha.
My family had a wonderful opportunity to sneak away to the beach for a long weekend in late summer. We had a blast being together and mostly had the beach to ourselves! Here are some snap shots....
The view from our room!
This message was on the wall in our bathroom...yes please!
Another sign that we are aging...we will go to any length to avoid sunburn, even floppy hats :-)
One of my mom's favorite beach activities has always been searching for seashells. So on this trip, we helped her look. Jay, my brother Mark, and I walked up and down the shores of Alabama in search of seashells. I noticed quickly that my preference in seashells has changed since I was a little girl! When I was younger and helped Mom in the seashell hunt, I was always looking for the perfect shells. The shells that were whole and unblemished. Now at age 29, I realized that I kept gravitating to the broken shells. I collected a good many broken shells, some of them being large pieces of what must have been huge, magnificent shells of all colors under the ocean. I wondered about why I kept picking up the broken ones, and why they were appealing to me. My conclusion was that I could relate more to the broken shells now than I could as a kid.
These broken shells had a story. Who knows how far they had traveled to this beach, or what creatures occupied them, or what predators had broken them, or how many times the ocean current had pounded them, or how many other people had walked by them. These broken shells reminded me of real life, and of real people. Real, broken, imperfect people who have experienced the toll of life. Those broken shells reminded me, of me! I could relate better to the broken ones than the perfect ones. And the truth is that there is a beauty in brokenness. I have seen this beauty countless times in the stories of people from everywhere, whether refugees I have assisted, or in the stories of human trafficking survivors, or in the stories of my classmates & colleagues, or in the lives of my family and friends. We don't have the ability to experience perfect lives in this world. But I believe that beauty can rise from brokenness because Jesus Christ redeems and makes people new. Don't get me wrong, I still like the perfect and whole shells! They are a reminder to me that God will make everything whole again one day. As long as I live, however, I imagine I will always relate most to the broken shells :-)
~ LJH
