Tales from the Recruiting Trail

Another Bad Idea from Mr. Obama

Unsurprisingly, President Obama is pushing policies which discriminate against stay-at-home moms. Looks like I'm going to have to send Susie up there again.

17-Year-Old Lincoln ...

... reflects on his cousin, his baby sister, and more.

Attention Dems: You're a Threat

POTUS ♥ Roe

Even though he's "run into a bit of a buzz saw" on health care, President Obama still took time out of his busy schedule to celebrate the decision which ushered 50 million children into a buzz saw. It's small wonder Reformed pastor Douglas Wilson would say:

I take it as a given that Obama and all his minions, not to mention his ilk, are evil and destructive. The Christians who support them are Lenin's useful idiots. Those who say and do wicked things should be flatly opposed by Christians, not supported by them.

Mullendore Cold Case Growing Warm?

The News on 6 reports that one of Oklahoma's most famous cold cases -- the murder of Osage County rancher E.C. Mullendore III -- could be growing warm. Apparently Chub Anderson, a former ranch-hand at the 42,000-acre Cross Bell Ranch, has agreed to tell his life story to Bartlesville columnist Dale Lewis (who, as it happens, was my YMCA basketball coach when I was a kid).

I gotta say, as a Bartlesville native, this is pretty exciting. I still have a dog-eared copy of The Mullendore Murder Case, a fascinating nonfiction mystery written 34 years ago by Jonathan Kwitny, a longtime feature writer for the Wall Street Journal. In a nutshell: “E.C. Mullendore III needed 12 million dollars. He had spent a fortune on race horses. His wife had run up a few bills – $10,000, for example, in nine days shopping at Neiman-Marcus. His ranch was 10 or 12 million dollars in debt. So E.C. Mullendore III did what any right-thinking, hard-drinking millionaire in financial trouble would do. He hired an accountant and a ranch manager. He took out 15 million dollars worth of insurance. He contacted the Mafia.”

The book features a little bit of everything. Even Gene Stipe. (Why does that not surprise you?) Reviewers called the book “a classic whodunit,” “a murder comedy in the deftest style,” and “one of the strangest true stories ever spun out of the West.”

Many of my friends and acquaintances appear in the book. Indeed, one scene is actually connected to one of my earliest memories as a child. Kwitny writes that at the time of his death E.C. was having some renovations (new skylight, plumbing, tile, etc.) done at his house in Bartlesville (not the ranch house). As it happens, this Bartlesville house had been built by my grandmother, and she bought it back a month after E.C.'s untimely demise. I was four years old at the time, and I distinctly remember walking through her living room amid torn-up flooring, stepping over boxes of new tile. My grandmother (we called her “Lolly”) finished the renovation, and the years that followed produced some of the happiest memories of my life – memories associated with her and with that house.

Lots of Bartlesville folks have their own Mullendore stories, and doubtless will be watching this with great interest. All the best to Dale Lewis as he puts together Chub's story.

'Quiet Presence with Each Other'

Early in December I received an e-mail from a fellow homeschool mom and blogger. She answered a question I had asked her, and also sent along some words of comfort. Part of her reply was this:

Believe me, Susie, and I can say this from experience ... in 10 years you will not be looking back and bemoaning how little school you got done in the fall of 2009. But if you put the emphasis in the wrong places right now, you may very well look back and and regret that you didn't spend just a little more time crying, praying, sleeping, and huddling together with that precious family following this loss. While you've all been through this together, each of you has a different experience, a different story that God is writing in each of your lives. Take time to listen to each other ... help the children put all the pieces of your 37 days with Anne Marie in place ... let your children see that an all-sufficient God does not give us invulnerable hearts. What math equation or science experiment or sentence diagramming could hold a candle to the kind of teaching that just your quiet presence with each other will mean in their lives in all the years to come?

Can I presume to make a practical suggestion here? It's December 3. Put the books away and take an early Christmas break. Take the pressure off in this area and enjoy Advent and the holidays together, celebrating your daughter's life and the life of the Child who became our sacrifice. Live life fully in these days, even if for you that means crying and sleeping until noon, and resolve that a month from tomorrow you'll pick up the books again, just a little more prepared internally to resume your academic schedule. Please believe me -- it's a decision you will never regret.

That is some of the best advice I've been given, and that's exactly what we did. And it was what our family needed to do. Then after a long Christmas break, we began our schoolwork again. Some days have been harder than others, but the break did all of us good.

Last week we also went back to our Friday homeschool classes at our church. We had missed these while we were in Dallas and the kids enjoyed being back. Our pastor's wife teaches art, two fellow homeschool moms teach P.E., the father of one of our homeschool moms teaches physics and leads experiments, and two other moms teach literature. Also, three students from our group won awards in a statewide juried art show sponsored by the Fine Arts Institute of Edmond. Congratulations Christian, Nathan, and Emily!

Here are some pictures from last week:

Three Months

Today you would have been three months old. How can three months ago seem like a lifetime ago, and also seem like it was just yesterday? I miss you sweet girl, so much.

Christmas Pictures

One of the good things about having kids around is that they cause you to do things -- like cook dinner, and do math lessons, and get out of bed each day. And if it weren't for the kids, I might have skipped Christmas altogether this year. But we didn't. We put up our tree and hung our stockings and made snacks and treats. And they helped put a smile on my face even when I was sad. There haven't been many things that have made me laugh these past few weeks, but my kids have. On Christmas morning I laughed and I cried and gave thanks for all my children. Here are some pictures from Christmas.

Jack Henry going out to play in the Christmas Eve blizzard:

Mary Margaret delivering treats to the neighbors:

Getting ready for Santa:

Waiting for Santa:

Remembering Anne Marie:

Out in the snow on Christmas morning:

Digging out of the driveway so we could leave town:

Making progress!

'A Life of Joy and Peace'

As it happens, last night was the first time I was able to put my hands on Anne Marie's death certificate. As I studied it, memories from the hospital came flooding back. I already understood (in layman's terms) what had happened: her heart slowed down and eventually stopped beating. But it was jolting last night to read in black and white the cause of death: "multiple organ system failure."

Failure. And yet this morning in church -- a mere 14 hours after reading those words -- we sang "Amazing Grace." The fifth stanza goes like this:

Yea, when this flesh and heart shall fail,
And mortal life shall cease,
I shall possess, within the veil,
A life of joy and peace.

Three Months

Nice post by The Pioneer Woman today about my nephew Tyler, who was just (there's no other way to put it) a sweet kid. And nice pic of my kid sister!

Help Has Come

I remember reading this post from a friend's blog while we were in Dallas. What stood out to me the first time I read it, and all the times I've read it since, are these words: Oftentimes a poor broken-hearted one bends his knee, but can only utter his wailing in the language of sighs and tears; yet that groan has made all the harps of heaven thrill with music; that tear has been caught by God and treasured in the lachrymatory of heaven.

Lately it seems that most of my praying is "in the language of sighs and tears" and sometimes all I can get out is, "Help. Please help." And sometimes it seems as if help doesn't come, because the pain is still so deep.

But help has come. It has come in lots of ways. It has come from passages I have read in the Bible. I have been reading Psalm 121 over and over, letting it sink in. It has come from books I have been reading. Another thing that has been so helpful has been the e-mails I have gotten from people who have also lost babies. A fellow blogger sent me an e-mail sharing a bit of her own experience and saying, "in case you feel you've gone over the edge some days, maybe it will help to know that someone here knows how sadness and loss can take your breath away." Another message we received after Anne Marie's funeral said, "Deepest most sincere sympathy in the 'aftermath.' It is the most debilitating pain and yet ... that precious baby is free of human disability. She is in the arms of the angels and has seen the face of God. He has released her and she waits for you all. It will be alright ... time will transform the pain into amazing joys. We feel it everyday." It was helpful to hear from this mother who has lost her baby and is now able to say that the pain has brought joy. I can't imagine how it ever could, yet I trust that it will.

Help has also come from sermons I have been listening to. I think John Piper is about the best when it comes to teaching and preaching on sovereignty and suffering. This has been one of my favorites for years, and just recently I listened to this. And then last night when I went to his blog I found this:



So yes, help has come. The awful pain is still there, and seems only to get worse because I miss Anne Marie more and more each day. But sometimes I forget that if it didn't hurt so bad then it wouldn't be called suffering. And in this suffering, God is helping me "to feel in my bones and not just know in my head that God is for me" and that "behind a frowning providence, He hides a smiling face."

Another Reason to Come a Courtin'

Anyone who knows my 11-year-old daughter -- sweet, beautiful, delightful Mary Margaret -- knows what a fine catch she's gonna be one of these days. And fellas, here's one more reason: she reads Sports Illustrated. I mean, like, regularly. Tonight she informed me that Ian Johnson (he whose history will remain unspoken) is on the Vikings practice squad.

Capitol Press Corps Continues to Shrink Expands

In the December 30 edition of "Oklahoma News Report," OETA's Jason Doyle reports on the launch of CapitolBeatOK.