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A different kind of tired.
A different kind of perfect.
Sometimes, a mishap is simply a mishap, easily fixed and forgotten. Other times, mishap is mayhem in the making, especially when it happens on what is meant to be the most perfect day of your life, the day you’d dreamed about since you were a little girl, the day that will mark the first day of the rest of your life. Your wedding day.
I suppose that’s just a wee bit dramatic, at least for me. I really didn’t have the wedding dreams many young girls seem to have, I honestly never gave it too much though until I knew I was going to be married. Even then, they were simple and sweet. Not too much muss, not too much fuss. Doable. My dream seemed so doable.
Often, the little blunders in life can seem like giant blunders in the midst of the havoc they create, but when the smoke settles and the dust clears, things are often not nearly as bad as they seemed in the moment. We had a bit of a mishap on our wedding day, nothing but our love turned out the way we thought it would.
We stood on the shores of a quiet ocean with soft breezes playfully pulling on my dress and tousling my hair. The warm beach sand beneath our bare feet felt soft as silk as we looked into each other’s eyes and promised forever. He looked regal in his dress uniform, medals twinkling in the fading sun. We sealed our love with a kiss as the sun dipped below the horizon, marking the end of the first day we would spend as husband and wife.
When I close my eyes and remember how I dreamed our wedding would be, this was how I dreamt it. The sun did set beautifully on the day wed, the rest . . . never actually happened. It was supposed to. It was my dream, but planned perfection is never as perfect as you plan it to be. The day ended as it was meant to, we did walk hand in hand into the future as husband and wife, my wedding day woes ended in happily ever after.
We met shortly before I turned sixteen, he was my first love, my only love and my last love. Years passed, we would go our separate ways and return again, but in the end, we decided to take our journey in life together. After a lifetime in Alaska, we decided to marry on a warm and sunny beach in Florida.
My grandmother helped me pick a beautiful dress. It looked as though it were crafted of delicious, silken cream and soft, billowy curtains of cloud. My soon to be husband was to wear his military finest; he was so very handsome when he donned his uniform. My best friend lived in Florida with her baby girl; she offered her tiny apartment as her gift to us. We were glad to have somewhere cozy, and I must admit, inexpensive, to stay.
Our first day there we drove around, seeing the sights and taking in the sun. We gazed upon the beach where we would soon wed. It was an amazing moment in time, surreal and long-awaited. We hardly rested at all that night, in part because we were anxious for morning, and maybe a little due to a bad case of, I don’t want to sleep syndrome, our youngest host seemed to be having.
When the morning came we were weary, but happy and ready to begin the next chapter of our lives together. I pulled my dress from its protective covering, but it no longer resembled silken cream or wispy cloud. It was a wrinkled up and unattractive version of its former self. As tears began to form in my eyes, my almost husband told me not to worry and helped me dry my tears.
We soon set off to find a dry cleaner to press my crinkled and crumpled dress. It was early. It was early on a Sunday morning. After driving to every dry cleaner in town only to see a closed sign on each door, we decided we would have a Monday morning ceremony on the beach instead of a Sunday evening one. The sun would be rising on the first day of our new life instead of setting on it, still sounded beautiful to me.
Planned perfection with a slight detour took us further than I’d expected. We decided we would get our license and set up the ceremony with the Justice of the Peace who would marry us. The office was in a rather run down strip mall. While we waited in line I heard the rumblings from my so, so, soon husband’s stomach, the sound seemed to be echoing my own. My friend’s daughter was on the cranky side from self-imposed lack of sleep, and the poor darling was hungry as well.
By the time we reached the desk she was practically wailing. We filled out the paperwork, signed here and signed there and waited for the woman with the power to place her seal upon it. While waiting, my friend jokingly said, “I’ll give you twenty bucks if you do it right now.” Maybe it was the sleep deprivation, perhaps the lack of nourishment, or the frustration brought about by the demise of the aforementioned planned perfection, but before we knew it, we were standing before a Justice of the Peace in the back of the dingy little office.
As she began, she told us to grasp hands and look into each other’s eyes. This must be code for start crying, because my friend’s daughter began to howl like a banshee, as we waited for her to calm I began to giggle. My love began to giggle. My now crying friend threw her hands up and began to laugh along, thankfully, so did her daughter.
The woman waiting to lead us into wedded bliss was not laughing however. She wasn’t even smiling. I don’t know how, but we made it through our vows, the four of us trying unsuccessfully not to laugh. She pronounced us man and wife and rolled her eyes as she sent us on our way. Unbeknownst to us, we had gathered quite an audience. A few said congratulations, a few refused eye contact and one said “It’ll never last.”, while yet another scolded us, saying, “Marriage is no laughing matter.”
We were married, we were happy and we were hungry. Twenty bucks was just enough to pay the girl at the McDonald’s drive thru window. We spent the rest of our day at Universal Studios and ended it by driving past the beautiful beach I had seen in my dreams. It would have been a lovely wedding.
Of course our parents were about as thrilled as the lady who led us in our vows, we have no wedding pictures aside from one we took in the old-fashioned photo studio at the theme park. We did dress in vintage wedding clothes which were much fancier than the shorts, t-shirts and flip-flops we were actually married in. The pictures we snapped during our day show a young couple having fun, we look happy and although I sometimes wish things had gone the way we’d planned, I wouldn’t trade that day or my memories of it for anything.
I did get a free spa package out of the deal a few years ago from a radio station for sharing my story. It was a welcome bit of pampering. I wish I could find the man who said it wouldn’t last and tell him just how long it has. I wish the woman who told us marriage was no laughing matter could see how much joy those moments of laughter have given us.
Now, my idea of planned perfection is whatever God has in store for us . . .
Crystal R. Cook
Reaction

It seems some people aren’t happy unless they are getting whatever satisfaction they derive from causing stress and hurt in others . . . If we stop giving them what they desire, they may just stop trying to get it.
Love Me For Who I Am

Not much of a morning person, especially in the mornings.

Morning came too soon today,
I wanna crawl back in my bed.
I wanna close my sleepy eyes,
and cover up my head.
There’s no rest for the weary,
at least that’s what they say.
I guess I’ll have to suck it up
and go on about my day.
I’ll make myself some coffee
just a pot or two,
then I must get started
on all I have to do.
I should tidy up the house
pay the bills now overdue,
decide what to make for dinner
and wash a load or two.
I haven’t dusted in a while
I should get that done,
no one else will do it
I guess I’m the only one.
Then again . . .
The mess will just return
later on today,
the bills are late already
what harm is one more day?
No one’s gonna starve to death
if I don’t cook and prep and bake,
they can forage in the pantry
for something they can make.
And if they truly wanted
their laundry done each day,
they’d put it in the bin
instead of where they lay.
So . . .
I’m goin’ back to bed
to close my sleepy eyes,
I’ll do it all tomorrow
when the sun begins to rise.
Crystal R. Cook
There comes a moment in the life of every mother –

Before I had children I thought I knew a bit about life, I was young but confident. It turned out I knew a little less than I thought I did, lucky for me, I’m a quick study. When I realized I’d been blessed with new life inside of me, everything changed. The things I thought were so important just the day before were all but forgotten as I thought about the magnitude of the journey I was about to embark upon. In that moment, I grew. In that moment, I changed. Over the years I’ve continued to learn, I’ve continued to grow and to change.
There comes a time in the life of every mother, when we suddenly realize we are mothers. You may think I’m merely stating the obvious, but there’s a special moment, a moment of beautiful clarity you cannot describe until you’ve experienced it. That moment when you look at your child and think in amazement, this is my child, I created this person. It’s an amazing moment that weaves itself into the fabric of our lives.
The bonds I’ve formed with my children began with the first lullaby I softly sang as they slumbered in my womb. I took to motherhood naturally and with joy, the lives I’d created were each an extension of my own, the best of all I had to give. I’ve always been in awe of my children, each unique and special in their own ways. They’ve provided me with a sense of accomplishment and fulfillment I never dreamed was possible. I cannot begin to imagine what my life would have been like if I’d chosen another path.
For me, this moment of sweet epiphany has occurred more than once. With each little life I’ve brought forth into this world, I’ve been given the gift of this divine revelation. You never know when it will come, you cannot plan for it and it takes you by surprise when you least expect it. When it happens, a feeling of warmth overcomes you, tears form in your eyes, and the meaning of life reveals itself.
I remember gazing at my firstborn son as he lay in slumbers sweet solitude and thinking, this must be what angels look like when they rest. I then realized the tiny angel I was so taken with was mine, a precious gift of God, and I was his mother. It was a monumental event in my life; I knew I would never be the same after that night.
I was as unassuming the second time I found myself experiencing the powerful emotions that accompany this precious moment. I never wondered if I could love another child as I had loved my first, I somehow knew I would and I was right, my second baby, another son, was as delightful and amazing as his big brother. As it did the first time, that moment hit me like a ton of bricks.
He was standing there, one hand gripping his walker for dear life, and the other mischievously reaching for his big brothers hair. The sun was shining brilliantly through the blinds, illuminating him in golden silhouette, soft shadows played alongside him, and there before me stood another angel, this time at play.
I began to cry just as he took hold of the soft hair beneath his fingertips, he giggled and his brother let out a holler. I couldn’t help but join him in the giggle, soon the injured party joined in our laughter. They may not have known why we were so happy, but I did, they were mine and I was the luckiest person on earth.
The years seemed to disappear right before my eyes; they rolled by as quickly as the day itself. I often looked at my sons with the solemn awareness that comes with acceptance and thanks. The Lord had been so good to me, I was blessed beyond measure. I did not know that He, in His infinite wisdom was a long way from finishing the job.
Another life, another miracle. I’d forgotten all about the joys of new motherhood by the time my third son came along. I was euphoric and treasured every moment, for I knew all too well how quickly they would pass. Life was again full of midnight feedings and diaper changes. I looked upon my three boys with thanks in my heart.
I was always on the go; three boys will keep you running from dusk till dawn. I stopped calling them precious angels and switched to the more appropriate term house apes. They were little treasures, each shining with a brilliant light of all their own. I think in the back of my mind somewhere I knew another moment was heading my way. As usual, it caught me off guard.
We’d had a tough day, the kids were ill and I was cranky. I was trying, unsuccessfully, to get the youngest of the trio to nap. I looked at him in exasperation when he began to cry and asked him to please, please just close his eyes; I was at my wit’s end for the day.
I must have been more animated than I’d meant, his tears turned to laughter and he said, “You funny hunny!” Within seconds his little eyes closed and I scooped him up in my arms. I realized this was it, this was the moment. His little hand stroked my hair and we fell asleep together. It was glorious.
Shortly after the birth of my third son, the Lord saw fit to bless me with a little girl. She was five years old the day she came to live with us. She’d always been a part of my life, a piece of my heart. I’d felt her little feet kicking the palm of my hand before her birth, and I was there when she took her first breath. I held her and changed her diapers and rocked her to sleep just as I’d done with my own.
She’d been born to my younger sister, her birth was a blessing, an unexpected blessing. Life sometimes has a way of unraveling the careful plans we’ve tried to weave. Letting her little girl go to let her grow and thrive would be one of the hardest decisions my sister would ever have to make, It was an adjustment for us all in so many ways.
I never would have imagined there would be a moment between this child and I, but there was. I awoke in the early hours of the morning, before the sun began to rise, to the soft kiss of innocence upon my cheek. I feigned sleep as I listened to a little voice whisper “I love you Mommy.”, and then the scurrying of little feet back down the hall.
She had unknowingly transformed into my daughter in that instant, I may not have given her life but she had become mine, a child of the heart, one of my own. That sweet kiss sealed our souls together; I walked into her room and whispered a prayer of thanks. I tucked her back into bed as my tears once again fell.
There comes the time in the life of every mother, when we suddenly realize we are mothers. It happens throughout the lives of our children, during different stages of their lives. Perhaps when they are helpless little babes, or maybe when they are trying little house apes, we’ll be blessed with this miraculous revelation.
It may happen again during a school recital or in the midst of teenage heartbreak. It may take us by surprise once again when we hold our grandchildren tightly in our arms. Whenever it happens, it will be an amazing blessing from the Lord above. It is these moments that will carry us when our children are grown, we will remember we were once mothers, angels that softly walked the earth . . .
Crystal R. Cook
Art by Paul Peel, 1888
United We Once Stood
Perception
is everything
Your reality
exists in
their delusion
Their fantasy
has become
your fact
Only the
ignorant
understand
what the
geniuses
have to say
Forget what
you’ve learned
since the world
began to change
You were taught
nothing but lies
by those who speak
the solemn truth
They spew
sugar coated
sickly sweet
aphorisms
even they
do not
believe
You may
speak out
but only
in silence
you are
not welcome
to be heard
They try to hide
the fools
they truly are
with transparent
attempts
to extrapolate
and deceive
Nothing
more than
breath wasted
time squandered
beneath the guise
of progress
Breeders of
destruction
suffocating
what could
and what should be
Mindless yes men
hide beneath
masks of honor
and truth
and trust
without intention
to change
Senseless sheep
promise freedom
as they herd
precious little lambs
to the wolves
for slaughter
Perception
is everything
Crystal R. Cook
Coffee Does Not Equal Food . . . I beg to differ my dear man.
I was sitting at my computer one morning, keys clicking and words pouring, when all of a sudden I get a pop-up. I hate those things so I always have them blocked, this one snuck right on by though, It said . . .
“Coffee does not equal food! I love you!”
First of all, coffee HAS to be a food group, they just forgot to give it its own spot on the pyramid. Secondly, I love you? That wasn’t creepy at all. Upon closer examination, I see my husband had found a way to set little alarm messages to pop up at certain times of the day. That was the first.
I tend to forget about the world around me when I sit down to write and I often forgo the essential snacks and meals I should partake of. I remember having two articles to write and without any conscious effort on my part, I think I managed to drink four cups of coffee, got all of my writing AND my proofreading done PLUS managed to squeeze in some time on Facebook. I did not however, eat anything but a few glucose tablets.
For some people, this may not be too terribly bad, but I happen to be diabetic, so my sugars are rather off when I have those days, it always gets my dear hubby a bit peeved. This time, he had dispensed with the lecture and simply set my computer to turn on me. The next day, there were more pop up messages for me.
“Put down the cup and eat something!”
Geesh, fine, I will. I grabbed a yogurt and sat back down, then something totally creepy happened. After a few bites and a few more sentences another message invaded the screen –
“One yogurt isn’t going to cut it! EAT!”
Does the man have cameras on me? Is there a P.I. outside a window or something? Am I really that predictable?
“Make some toast!”
FINE! Enough already, I have things to do! Toast in hand, crumbs on the keyboard and yogurt half empty I see –
“Put peanut butter on it!”
I kind of wanted to hurt him a little bit at this point so naturally, I made another cup of coffee. Next time he hacks my life center I’d better see some pop-ups saying things like, “I love you and I care for you and you are wonderful and I cherish and adore you blah, blah, blah.”
I suppose the messages he sent my way really meant the same thing. I still say coffee is a food though.
Crystal R. Cook
I forgot to freeze time . . .

My baby is 17 years old today. I swear when I tucked him in just yesterday he was still my baby boy, but when the sun rose again today he stood before me, almost a man. He still smiles at me with the same precious grin, his eyes still twinkle the way they always have, and when he puts his arms around me, they still wrap around my heart. It’s different now though, before, it felt like I was holding him, now it seems he’s holding me.
I still look at him and see the little man he used to be, I’m sure I always will, but I also see the young man he has become. He is smart and kind, gentle and generous. He fills me with pride and joy and the purest of love.
He is his own person, unique and courageous, forging his own path rather than following one well-worn by others. His wears his faith for all to see, he leads instead of follows, and he takes every step with confidence.
He’s always been the baby brother, but he somehow knew in his earliest years he would sometimes have to gently guide his older brothers every now and then. He learned patience and compassion before he could understand the concepts of them. His brothers taught him many things while he was unknowingly teaching them. I know it isn’t easy to have siblings with special needs, but he embraced the role with grace and love.
I respect the young man he has grown to be, I admire him. I know there will come a tomorrow when I awake to the simple silence of an empty home, so today, I will cherish the fullness it still holds.
Crystal R. Cook




