I'm Thankful

I'm thankful that God loved me SO much He sent His only Son to die in my place. Grace so undeserved.

I'm thankful to live in a country where I'm still free to worship and live my life as a fully devoted follower of Christ, a privilege I don't take for granted and pray will remain.

I'm thankful for godly parents who love the Lord first, then each other, and then their children in ways that have always pointed me toward Jesus. They have sacrificed so often for me and for my sister.

I'm thankful for a loving sister who is an amazing, talented, wonderful Christian woman and friend. I'm thankful for her newfound (found again?) happiness with her husband.I'm thankful for her kids, the two greatest nieces and greatest nephew God ever created. They are joys!

I'm thankful the Lord added to my family by giving me the wonderful gift of my precious Studly Man. He makes my life complete.

I'm thankful for Studly's folks who have embraced me as their own and show love so freely.

I'm thankful for Studly's sister and her precious family who are wonderful examples of sacrificial love. (All four kids are adopted.)

I'm thankful for Studly's brother and his wife who bless us with their kind hearts.

I'm thankful for one very energetic and loyal BigDog and the joy she brings to our home.

I'm thankful for her little brother who makes me smile every day with his sweet cuddles.

I'm thankful the Lord sees fit to use us and that big dog in minstry to bring His love to kids who need to know Him.
I'm thankful for a Bible-believing, Bible-teaching church that is not ashamed of the Gospel of Christ, refuses to compromise the Truth, and reaches out to the world with His love.

I'm thankful for an amazing friend who has known all my secrets for 30 years and loves me any way.

I'm thankful for a wise friend who sees the best in me even when I can't.

I'm thankful for a sisterhood of friends who hold me accountable and encourage me to follow Jesus.

I'm thankful for my job and the privilege of working with some awesome ladies.

(no, of course that's not me... just the only picture I could find of a woman working at her desk.)

I'm thankful for all my bloggy friends and their wonderful encouragement in my life.

My prayer for each of you this Thanksgiving is that your heart and home be filled with love and joy as you count your many blessings from above.

Splendor in My Windowsill

Studly Man. Perhaps you remember him. He's the cute guy who lives here at Casa de Castro.

Turns out that in addition to being cute, he also has a green thumb.

Which he inherited from his father.

Look what Studly grew in my kitchen window.

Hanging in the window behind the orchids is the beautiful art glass angel Studly's sister made for me.

Behind the angel and out in the yard is the late re-bloom of a crape myrtle tree. The colors! (These pictures cannot do them justice.)



"...Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin; and yet I say to you that even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these." Matthew 6:28-29

Twos (or Dos-es)

Studly Man has citizenship in TWO countries (USA and Peru).


He is one of his father's TWO sons.


He is one of my parents' TWO sons-in-law.


He has TWO college degrees.


He has TWO eyes and TWO ears and TWO nostrils.


And he speaks TWO languages.


A few months after we married, we visited Studly's family in deep South Texas. His dad and stepmother have had a live-in housekeeper (Tonia) for the last 30+ years. She works very hard and is always so gracious to us when we visit. If one of us leaves a dirty sock on the floor accidentally, we'll come back from an outing to find she's done ALL of our laundry. She makes our bed within 14 seconds of our vacating it, and she makes breakfast to order for each person every morning. And she doesn't speak English. That's not a problem for anyone else in the family, but for me, it poses a bit of a challenge sometimes.

One morning on that particular visit, I slept late following a bad migraine the night before. When I finally stumbled out of bed, everyone was gone... except for Tonia. My mother-in-law had gone to a closing (she's a realtor), and Studly and his dad had ventured across the border for a meeting with the guys who built their product in Matamoros. When Tonia heard me stirring around in the kitchen, she came in to take my breakfast order. Although she understands some English, she isn't confident speaking it. The same holds true for my Spanish. We gestured to each other and pointed to things until we'd had a complete "conversation," and she understood my simple order: toast and coffee.

Later that day, I told Studly I felt badly because Tonia is always so gracious to me, and yet I can't communicate with her well like everyone else does. I wanted to thank her for her hospitality and maybe be able to order my breakfast... you know... in Spanish. He asked me what I wanted to say to her, and I told him. He graciously offered to teach me how to say what I wanted to convey in Spanish.

For hours that evening and the next morning, I rehearsed. There were some tricky words I hadn't heard before, and I was having trouble rolling my 'r' properly. Studly gently coached me as we got ready that morning until I had my speech down perfectly. Feeling very bold, I was ready to march into the kitchen and speak to Tonia. I opened the bedroom door and took a step out into the hall.

And then he grabbed me.


By the shoulders.


Laughing so hard he couldn't talk.


And I knew.

I knew he had taught me to say something slightly different from what I thought I was saying.

After much prodding, he finally gave in and confessed through the tears that were running down his cheeks while he held his sides as he laughed. He had taught me how to say, "My husband has three testicles." (Yes, it was in 2002, very shortly after "My Big Fat Greek Wedding" came out.)

Somewhere between my anger and my laughter, we finally managed to get to the kitchen. He composed himself well, and we sat down at the breakfast table. His dad was sitting there drinking his coffee and reading the paper. As we sat quietly, the silence grew deafening. I could stand it no longer.

I looked at my dear father-in-law and said, "Do you know what your son just did to his new bride?" A sad look came over his face. "No. What happened?" he asked with great concern. I told him the whole sordid story, and he patted my shoulder and said, "He's terrible, that son of mine. I'm sorry."

And then he winked at Studly.

And I knew I was doomed for the rest of my life. Studly had been an excellent student at the Practical Joke School of South Texas, and his father was the teacher. They'd spent a lifetime playing jokes on each other, and now I had been inaugurated into the family.

Within a few weeks of that experience, we had a crew of Brazilians laying a new flagstone patio in our backyard. It was the heat of the summer, like it is right now, and it was dangerously hot for anyone working outdoors. Dehydration and heat stroke were real threats. Studly had a meeting away from the house, and I thought the right thing to do would be to take these men who were working so very hard for us some nice cold ice water. I got my biggest pitcher and six 32 oz plastic cups. I filled the pitcher with ice water and placed everything on a tray. Following my previous foray into "speaking Spanish," I was a bit nervous. However, I mustered some courage and stepped out onto the back porch. The crew's foreman saw me.

"Agua?" I said tentatively.

A huge smile came across his face as he came over to me to take the tray.

"Oh, yes ma'am. We'd love some water. Thank you VERY much," he said in p.e.r.f.e.c.t. English. He took the tray and said in Portuguese (the native tongue of Brazilians and very similar to Spanish) to his crew that break time had come. They all came over into the shade and got a drink of water. I smiled as I turned to go back into the house, and as I did, something caught the corner of my eye.

There it was. A huge, industrial Igloo water dispenser and accompanying cups the crew had brought. They HAD water. They didn't NEED water. They were being gracious to accept my kindness. And I felt a little silly.

When Studly arrived home, I told him what had transpired. He laughed and recalled our most recent Spanish lesson, one in which he was more forthright about what he was teaching me to say.

When the crew finished their work and it was time for them to leave, Studly and I went out to see our new patio. Knowing the foreman and crew would appreciate my attempt to learn and communicate in another language, Studly told them I'd been learning some Spanish. He looked at me with great pride and said, "Go ahead, honey. Tell them what you've learned."

I lowered my head and cleared my throat.

"Mi esposo es muy guapo," I said with confidence.

They fell out laughing. The foreman asked Studly if I knew what I'd just said. He assured them I did. I looked at the foreman and said, "Well he IS very handsome, don't you think?" More laughter... because, yes, Studly had taught me to say "my husband is very handsome."

At least I was wise to the antics now.

TWO times. Twice he's had fun teaching me silliness in Spanish.

Se te va a secar la lengua.

Amazing and Amazed

Sometimes I'm startled by how hard the enemy works to keep us from experiencing the miracles of God. And then I'm amazed at how God works in spite of him... and in spite of us. I have to work on that second part - I never want to STOP being amazed by God's power, but then again, why I am ever "amazed" any more after a lifetime of watching Him do amazing things? Interesting conundrum.

After the enemy's attempts at stopping (or at least stalling) the prison event on Saturday, it was awesome to see what God did. In addition to having four brand new shiny volunteers added to the team, we also had the privilege of having Studly Man's dad come in with us for the very first time ever. Since he lives ten hours away, it has been hard to schedule an event when he'd be in town. But this time, it happened. His concept of what we do in the prisons was, to say the very least, a far cry from actually happens. Now he is able to understand more of what we do, and more importantly, why we do it. He's always been very proud of his firstborn, but this experience elevated that to untold levels. I'm glad for Studly. The most common denominator among the incarcerated kids we see is an absentee father. Absenteeism can take many forms: absent from the home, absent from the child's life in any capacity, present in the home but absent from the child emotionally, or some combination. That made the public expression of Studly's dad's pride even more precious.

So many things occur on each one of these visits. It is so hard to pick out just one or even two that impact me each time because SO many things do. However, this event was a little different. There was one precious child who stole my heart.

As I shared my story (including parts I will not ever post here), one young girl began sobbing. She told me later it was as if I was telling HER story. As I tried to comfort and encourage her, she begged for help. She was desperate, and she was speaking out for the very first time. She needs several different kinds of help. Her mother doesn't understand (or believe) what she says, and therefore has never done anything to help her daughter. I was able to impress upon this young girl to keep.asking.for.help. until she gets what she needs, even if it means asking many different people. One of the guards, who thankfully is a Believer, came over and took notes. I believe my new friend WILL get the help she needs now.

Seeing her downtrodden face and sad eyes, I remembered walking the road she now travels. The fear was so real, I could taste it. The memories, so fresh, it was as if it had all happened to me just last week even though it has been more than 20 years. But I was able to give her a glimmer of hope and share with her how the Lord had grown me through my darkest days and delivered me to a life of hope and joy and blessing. For the first time in her life, she imagined that she also could heal and that her healing would begin... in prison.

Isn't that interesting? God used incarceration as a way station along this girl's journey to facilitate the help she needs. While she is locked up, she is being protected from who and what hurts her. For the first time, she was able to be grateful... grateful... for her current circumstances. She is learning that not all people in the world have hurting her as their primary goal. She is learning how to determine who is trustworthy and how to give voice to her pain. She is asking questions about how to "get on with life" and how to forgive those who have wronged her. She is listening to the Truth for the very first time.

And all because the enemy's attempts at derailing my commitment to be there were thwarted by an almighty, all-knowing, loving, merciful God Who knew this little girl needed to hear my story.


I'm amazed.

Defeating a determined enemy

In the morning, Studly Man and I will be leading a team of 25 volunteers into our local juvenile prison.

We are strangely delighted by the horrendous week we've had. (We're delighted NOW... it took a few days to get that way.)

Let me explain.

Studly's sister is an amazing artisan. She left her job as a chemical engineer after adopting four amazing kids, and she has replaced her income by selling her art. (Those kids are seven, seven, six and five now - pray for her!!) She lives near Austin, and we're here in Dallas. There is a huge art festival here this weekend. Her husband is at another huge art festival in Santa Fe selling her art, so he couldn't travel with her and help her during the show here. That means that Studly's parental units had to drive five hours from Brownsville (FAR south Texas) up to Austin, pick up Sister and her wares, and drive four and a half more hours to Dallas to check in at Casa de Castro.

While I was at the grocery store last night at about 9:40, they arrived. Which was after we'd returned from my parents' 55th anniversary dinner/party thingy that I planned. Which was after I got home from the dentist. Which was after I broke a tooth by chewing my night guard in half. Which was after Studly spent three hours on his hands and knees or a ladder frantically trying to get blood (lots o' blood) off the walls, ceiling and just-professionally-cleaned-seven-days-ago carpet before his family arrived for the weekend. Which was after Shiloh sliced her tail and then wagged it briskly for say, oh, an hour or more while no one was home, slinging blood all.over.the.place. Which was after Studly delivered his brand spanking new project to his potential first buyer. Which was after a very long and sleepless night preparing for the delivery of said new project. Which was after a spat we had over who would unload the dishwasher. Which was after I spilled a half gallon of milk on the freshly mopped floor.

This was in a 24-hour-period.

There's SO much more for the previous 48 hours, but my fingers are tired. Use your imagination.

Why? WHY are we delighted that we had such a horrendous week? We've learned a simple truth.

satan (yes, not capitalized on purpose) doesn't waste his time attacking where God is not at work. Why would he? If there is no threat that God's kingdom will be added unto, glorified, honored or built up, satan will focus his efforts elsewhere.

God must have really big plans in store for this weekend....



We're rejoicing. We weren't earlier in the week because we'd had a momentary lapse of reason, but we are now.

Please remember our team and the kids we'll minister to in your prayers.

More beauty

My mother-in-law is a very thoughtful lady. She also has an appreciation for beautiful things. Here's what she presented to me and my friend, Brenda, upon our arrival last weekend.






My mother-in-law is thoughtful. My God is an amazing, creative artist.

His thumb is green

My father-in-law is an agronomist. Along with the really important stuff he did in his career (you know, stuff like helping the farmers in Mexico feed their families by developing several hybrid seeds for sorghum varieties), he also grew a really green thumb. Everything he has attempted to grow has flourished. Well... everything unless you consider the tree Sintu, the bazillion pound Alaskan Malamute, dug up to eat its roots - three times. But that's another story for another day.

When we visited this past weekend, here's what we found in the yard. (To be fair, my mother-in-law and her housekeeper of 25 years also live in the house and could possibly claim credit for some of what you will see below.)

Bouganvilla

Pink frangipani

White Frangipani

Hibiscus

Morning glories

Pride of Barbados Tree (also known as Fire Tree)

I married his son.

Beach Babies

Studly Man's family lives in South Texas. Way South Texas. In fact, Studly went to Southmost College his freshman and sophomore years. (I love that name... Southmost. The college was eventually absorbed by the University of Texas at Brownsville, but there are still signs on the campus, which is THE very last thing in Texas before one crosses the border into Mexico.)


The good part about having in laws in South Texas? See it here.


Now, I'm blessed to have pretty great inlaws, but how awesome is it that they live AT THE BEACH??? Jealous much?


We're off for a long weekend of rest, relaxation, fellowship, catchin' up, and just doin' nuthin'. We're taking our good friends, Duane and Brenda, with us. By the time you read this, I'll be jetting southward. (I love that "post options" feature that allows me to set the date and time to display a post that I've written well before!)


Can.hardly.wait.


Happy Memorial Day! Ya'll have a good weekend now, ya hear?

When Picture Taking Gets Ugly - in Church

Over the weekend, Studly Man and I drove five.long.hours. to see his niece and nephew receive their First Holy Communion. We’re not Catholic. Studly’s family is, but Studly and I are not. Our church handles communion quite differently, so I was in for an education.

There was LOTS of excitement. There were LOTS of people. Seventeen of them were either directly or distantly related to us. I took pictures. Lots and lots of pictures, ‘cuz that’s what I do. (I used to take pictures to document life’s adventures. Now I take them for blog fodder.)

Now what I failed to realize is that e.v.e.r.y.o.n.e. in Austin, Texas has a blog. I know this because e.v.e.r.y.o.n.e. in Austin, Texas stepped in front of me and my camera to take pictures. I can only assume they were doing so for their own blogs, no?

Have you ever seen a fight break out? In church? At the altar? Me either... until yesterday.

Ever INSTIGATED a fight? In church? At the altar? Me either... until yesterday.

It all started innocently enough. Darling Jonathan and Alondra were dressed all in white, and excitement filled the air. Their mommy was aflutter seeing to all the last minute details and greeting each family member and friend upon arrival. Multiply that by 24 mommies who were doing the same things, all the family members, plus all the regular parishioners present, and you’ve got critical mass. (Sorry. Couldn’t help myself.)

After lots of ceremonious music and activities, the first pair of the precious 26 First Communicants made their way down the center aisle. Before they got halfway to the altar, 6,432 people armed with every variety of video and still camera leapt from their seats and jockeyed for pole position in the race for the best photo op. At first I thought I had slept through a fire alarm and missed the urgent call to exit the building. Then I realized it was simply a throng of people awaiting the entrance of their beloved communicants.

I elbowed my way through the crowd and stepped over the body of a little old lady positioned myself for some prime picture taking. Jonathan’s pair came before Alondra’s. His smile started at his left ear and went clear around to the right ear. I snapped away and got great shots of our sweetie as he fulfilled each step of the process just as he had been instructed. I smiled and winked at him, and he headed back towards his seat.
Next was Alondra’s pair. I held the camera up to my eye, and got a shot of her as she was about to place her rose in the vase. (Note portion of camera-wielding throng in background.)But just as I was about to press the shutter button to capture her first participation in the actual communion, a very large buffoon man stepped between me and my perfect shot of Alondra. From somewhere deep within me, a low guttural voice said, "Oooohhhhh, MISTER! Move! Mister! Mister!"

And it was over. Alondra had partaken of her First Communion, and I missed it. Mister’s communicant was three kids (and sponsors) behind Alondra. Three kids later! He had two more HOURS to get lined up for his photo, yet he, in the quest for the perfect shot of his little sweetie taking his/her First Communion, prevented me from getting mine.

No longer being in control of my faculties, I knew something bad was going to happen. My Cato-esque instincts took over, and Clouseau the man never stood a chance. I mopped the floor with him. (Okay. I made that last part up, but I WANTED to hurt him.) Alondra and I took our seats, and amazingly, life went on.

After the mass had ended and our mass of family had taken a zillion posed pictures, we left the building. We heard an audible sigh of relief come from the parking lot as our caravan drove away. I’m not sure who sighed... perhaps it was the building itself!

We motored on toward the house for everyone to change clothes after which we took some shots of the entire family group on the front steps. Next we piled into six vehicles and drove until nightfall for about 35 minutes to The Salt Lick BBQ restaurant. We'd picked up stragglers along the way, and we were now a party of 28. Talk about strappin' on the feed bag! We ate so much I think we moo'd from the misery of fullness.

It was a great family time. Before we left, we spent a few minutes saying our goodbyes. Studly saw his father and little brother talking. He went over, got between them, and put his arms around them. My camera did this: The smiles on their faces (especially Studly's) made the whole trip worthwhile. His 85-year-old dad was plenty happy to have his sons (and the whole family) around. His happiness was our happiness.

God bless them, every one.