You Belong Among the Wildflowers

Shall We Gather At The River?

A few months ago, Molly began telling us she wanted to be baptized. In the Baptist church, we believe in immersion baptism (dunking), a public symbol of a private prayer to Jesus, asking him to come into one's heart. We consider this a decision to be made, rather than an automatic rite of passage at birth or otherwise. Since Molly was only just turning 7, we weren't all that sure how much she understood what she was asking about. She talked with me, then with Peter, and then with the pastor of the church. She is a bit wise beyond her years and articulated what she was feeling. She had prayed numerous times on her own to tell Jesus she wanted to follow Him and learn about how he wants her to live. She believes Jesus is God's Son and that He was on Earth to save us, she said. One Sunday at the end of June, she came forward at the end of our church service and made a public profession of faith. Yesterday, she moved forward in her decision and was immersed in the warm waters, dying to a life of sin and washed in the sacrificial blood that offers New Life.





With each baptism, I am reminded of my own decision 20+ years ago to walk that walk. Sometimes I fall off the road a little--or a lot--but someone (and I'm pretty sure who it is) always picks me up and guides me to where I need to be. With Molly's baptism, though, I felt more than just grateful for how Jesus loves me and takes care of me. Indeed, I cried tears of joy, knowing she will be on the same road, making some of the same mistakes but always lifted back again into the arms of the One who saves. As her momma, I will be protecting her in all things, but what a relief to know He's got her back, too!

As she and I walked downstairs to return to the congregation, we could hear the chorus of the hymn, "I Have Decided to Follow Jesus." She stopped for a minute and said, "Mom, I know why they're singing that. It's for me. Because I have decided to follow Jesus today!" No turning back, no turning back....

Y'all Hungry?

Let me paint you a picture. You're in the middle of Nowhere, Mississippi. The mosquitoes are so big they make a slurping sound when they hit your windshield as you drive to the beacon on the horizon known as Harrah's Casino, a behemoth in what is otherwise just a swamp. Harrah's is literally a boat--state law dictates that this type of gambling may only be done on water--but it is several city blocks long and doesn't make you motion sick at all. Smack dab in the middle of the Swamp Castle is a restaurant with every Southern-fried food ever created, with desserts for miles, with lots of round people, people with facial hair reminiscent of 1978, people wearing entirely too much make-up, men in plaid shorts, women with bra straps hanging out of dresses they've had for 15 years, and a few regular-looking visitors. All stuffing their faces. All smilin' BIG. Why? They are at Paula Deen's buffet. And so are we!

I decided I was going to make some big changes in the way I eat, using trusty ol' Weight Watchers. But Lord knows, I needed to splurge big before taking on the points system again. So I convinced my parents to wrangle the kidlets and I convinced my husband (never one to turn down a buffet) to drive me down for one last sweet-and-greasy hoorah.

I assume you are familiar with Paula. She is a Food Network superstar with a Southern drawl and an insistence that everything is better with butter. She has a restaurant in her hometown of Savannah, GA, and this buffet in Tunica, Mississippi.

First, I walked right on past the salad bar. No need to waste precious stomach space on fresh vegetables. Paula doesn't "do" lettuce any better than I do, so forget the salad. Move on to the fried goodness. The choices were truly overwhelming. Pile the plate high with corn bread casserole, fried shrimp, mounds of beans, mashed potatoes with choice of 3 greasy gravies, the best cheese biscuits on the planet. People were walking by me with buttery sauces dripping down their sleeves, crab legs jutting out in all directions, a real balancing act just to make it back to their tables. If it can be fried, Paula will fry it. And wow. Just wow. Prime rib with au jus, corn on the cob, sweet potatoes, a zillion varieties of casserole. Like Grandma's Thanksgiving Dinner on steroids. And I gotta tell ya, about the only thing green in the whole place was the sprig of mint leaves in Peter's sweet tea!

The second plate was a tiny bit less full, but no less satisfying. I had to leave room for dessert. I also had to come up for air! I seriously considered heading to the bathroom to purge some just to make room for more (I didn't). I hit the dessert table. The Ooey Gooey Butter Cake. The name says it all. I don't even need to tell you more. I also had a little chocolate cup with gelled fruit in it and some kind of super-sweet lemon bar. I'm fairly certain that Heaven will look a lot like the dessert buffet at Paula Deen's.

My first week on Weight Watchers will be spent losing the weight I no doubt gained in that Heavenly restaurant in the swamps of Mississippi. But it was worth every ooey gooey buttery bite.

Old Fart

There was a punk rock club in Memphis called The Antenna. It closed 14 years ago, just after I graduated from high school. I wouldn't say I frequented the place, but I saw a few shows there, had several friends who were there quite often. It's a landmark spot and was possibly the longest-running punk club in America, or some superlative like that. Some bands that played there went on to make a significant musical mark, like REM. It is still a club, with a different name, still showcasing local bands. They had an Antenna Reunion last weekend. I wanted to go, mostly to see some old friends and hear some good rock/punk sound. That evening, though, I slowly realized that I am now too uncool to go to the Antenna. Too uncool and too old. Here were my signs:
1. I was wearing a khaki skirt. This is not the attire of a rock chick and CERTAINLY not a punk kid. I was never a punk kid, but at least I had something slightly alternative to wear. Now I do not.
2. My husband--and potential date for the Reunion--was wearing a yellow knit shirt. He spilled salsa on it during dinner with our 3 children. He had to stop at the store and pick up a new shirt. Even with the cool dark gray shirt, he was still wearing (wait for it) plaid shorts. Ummm, no.
3. Did I mention the 3 kids? I'm not a completely un-hip mom--my kids are exposed to all kinds of music. My not-quite-two-year-old can identify the band members of U2 on sight. But, alas, I am not a punk rocker mom. The childcare options were limited that night, and none panned out. So I couldn't join the punk scene because I couldn't get a babysitter.
4. I was exhausted. See #3. Not to mention that I worked that day. All day. All week, in fact, like a productive adult. We went to a baseball game and stayed for the fireworks, through which 2 of the 3 kids cried. After hauling their dead-weight sleeping bodies to the mini-van, I couldn't fathom going back out.
5. Mini-van. My other car is a Civic Hybrid, and that might have passed for semi-cool, but I was driving the Odyssey.

Several people I know--some of whom have kids and all of whom have real jobs, too--are obviously less exhausted, better-dressed and cooler than I am. But, alas, I was asleep by 11:30, with visions of The Dead Milkmen dancing in my head. And also bits of playdough stuck in my hair.

Rockin' the First Day of School

I'm not sure when the first day of school got moved so far into summer, but here it is, August 10, and the kids started school today. Also, somehow, I suddenly lunged forward from being the mother of little bitty people to being the mother of two school-aged children. Heck, even Amelia "graduated" to the Little Two's class--those kidlets are gigantic in there, and she is just wee. Anyway, the night before, we had lunches made, backpacks packed, ridiculously huge amounts of school supplies ready, new clothes arranged neatly for the morning. They were excited. Rebecca was a little anxious about not knowing anyone but reassured by the fact that EVERYONE is new in Kindergarten. None of the other students will have been in that school before either! She was looking forward to riding the bus home in the afternoon. Molly was eager to find out if any of her friends would share her teacher. She relishes being the big sister, able to show Rebecca "how it's done" at this school.



The drop-off was smooth. Both teachers oozed with experience, their calm, gentle words of welcome helping ease the transition.

Molly looked so darn big in a desk all alone (last year, their desks were in pods; in Kindergarten they sat at tables. Second grade is Big.). She waved at old friends and, with remarkable maturity, just sat down and started unpacking her ginormous bag of supplies, a little oblivious that we were even still there. I blew her a kiss from the door, which she returned with her dimpled grin. Can we possibly be old enough to have a second grader?


Rebecca also seemed to ease right in. Her teacher could tell she was a Marsh right off the bat, having met Molly as well as her cousins before that. I think that soothed Rebecca's nerves a little. She began to color her gingerbread picture, posed for pictures, gave us hugs, and started talking to the girl next to her. I was a little teary in the hallway, a lot teary in the car on the way home.




They got off the bus in front of our house, energetic and talkative, both thrilled with how the day had gone. Gonna be a good year!

A Visit from NANA!

Since Pa was headed to London for two weeks, Nana decided to pay us a little visit from Oregon. She got to see the girls off on their first day of school, hang out with babies Annsley and Amelia, take various granddaughters shopping and iron/hem all kinds of things in my house (this is one of her favorite things to do--and she's so good at, so I say, have at it!). She brought kimonos from Pa--his present to his seven granddaughters from Kuala Lumpur. Yay for Nana!

Let the Games Begin

One of my favorite family traditions in the Marsh household is Family Game Night. It will be even more fun once Amelia is old enough to play some of our games, but she gets into it in her own way! On this Game Night, Peter and the big girls played Jenga and Sorry, while Amelia and I "played" checkers (set it up, put it away, repeat). Once Amelia was asleep, the rest of us played a little Charades as well. Other favorites include Slamwich, card games, Pictionary, Enchanted Forest, Operation and I Spy. Quincy the Dog kept his watchful eye on the festivities.

Girl Scouts Pumping It Up

Molly will begin her 3rd year with the same Girl Scout Troop this fall. To usher in the new school year, they gathered (with siblings, too!) at Pump It Up, house of rubber-burned elbows and twisted ankles but lots of fun. Love those Brownies!

Good Golly Miss Molly!

The end of the summer brought two camps for Molly, each lasting 2 weeks.

First, Drawing and Painting Camp at Memphis College of Art. After hearing negative comments from other parents who sent kids to other local art camps, I certainly hoped for better. She came home on Day One talking about texture, dimension and perspective--no paper plate face masks or brown paper bag puppets. She had pieces done with charcoal, acrylics, chalk, watercolors. After the camp was over, the College displayed one representative piece per student from the entire summer, in their Entry Gallery. Very professional. It truly felt like my kid's artwork was in a museum--and she was just thrilled. Her piece had great dimension--the assignment was to create a picture using "monsters" in the shape of her own traced feet. She had bits popping out, lots of color, and plenty of texture. We were proud, and so was she!



Molly finished up the summer with Summer Youth Conservatory at Circuit Playhouse in Midtown. Ever the Drama Queen, she practiced her trio ("Consider Yourself" from Oliver!) in an English accent, and was happy to run her lines from the skit at the drop of a hat. The acting pieces were original ones--created from the ideas of the students (ages 7-11) and woven together by their instructors. A sweet surprise at the start of the performance: Molly won the Excellence in Music Award, given to 3 students, one from each age level, who demonstrated enthusiasm, cooperation and participation in the music portion of the camp. Nana, Granna, Rebecca and I were able to see the live show. A DVD will be sent to us later, so those who missed it can experience her stage debut!