The Invisible Line

"Better late, than never," is a well-known proverb. Some arrive late, but that's okay because at least they arrive. Right?

It seems an invisible line has been drawn that one crosses without realizing it, until the moment of truth slaps them in the face. So to speak. Within the last week, I have visited two separate (very separate), establishments. For the record, I was neither late nor early, to each of these places. I was right on time. My time.

Last night, I became fully aware (once again) of that elusive, invisible line, that one crosses as they travel life's roadways. Late, or otherwise. You know the one I speak of. It's that place of tranquility, instead of clamored chaos. It's the "would you please turn that music down a couple hundred notches," place. It's that "Sorry. What did you say?" place. Good grief. I couldn't even think of how to subtract a simple equation because the noise was sooooo LOUD in the place. To make matters worse, the girl at checkout had the voice volume equivalency to that of a mouse, while your "final experience" guy shouted (yes, shouted), your name when the order was ready. I'm pretty sure it was because that would be the only way one would ever come to the counter to pick up their order of the day.

Oh, don't get me wrong. Oblivion is a place I rarely allow myself to visit but have been known to take a trip or two, there. Truth be told, I have been accused of actually living in the fantasy world of explosive reality, obscured only by the untrained mind. Chew on THAT statement for awhile...

The Yang of last nights Yin experience, happened only last week. And, if you know anything about Yin and Yang, you'll totally understand my statement. Just let me say I'm not a bit surprised by the actual definition of Yin and Yang. "Two principles, one negative, dark, and FEMININE (yin...uh-huh), and one positive, bright, and MASCULINE (yang...go figure). Describes me and my husband, to a T!!! Yeah. I know. I'm pretty sure that was Eve's fault.

Anyway, my husband and I had decided to visit a new restaurant in Cary, just last week. It looked promising, as we walked into an atmosphere of visual tranquility. Not saying it was spa-like, but it was spa-like. Almost. From the moment we walked in until our heels lifted off the exit step, our 5 senses enjoyed a quiet dance that those who have crossed the invisible line from chaos to tranquility, understandably want to be. It wasn't boring. Just peaceful. A place in which one could breathe without the heart rate jumping through the roof, or having the need for Advil. A place where your Northern extremity didn't need to be held, but one could actually have a conversation with oneself...if need be.

These two establishments that both offer exciting dishes for the palate are almost total opposites. If I were Lady Justice, I do believe the scale would tip in favor of the spa. Yeah. It's that invisible line, and I don't like headaches. Clearly, they both have their targeted audiences. 

The moral to this story? Never despise the quiet places. Soon enough you'll be visiting them as well. THEN, you will understand that crazy invisible line was there for a reason. We can deny it's there, and try convincing ourselves we are still 30 years younger than what we actually are, as we vehemently proclaim, "BRING IT ON!" But...it's there regardless. Our brain knows it's there, it's just not "in your face" obvious. And one day, you too will step over it and really, really, love it!

One last thing. You will know if you've arrived on time, or if you're shamefully late. But, you WILL arrive. Vertically, or horizontally. (Did I just go morbid there?)

Ahhhh...living the life, here you'll find me. Here, in Mary's World.

Where Are My Sunglasses?

"Hiding" from Grams

Have you ever begun something, set it aside for later, and later never appeared? For whatever reason, my blogging desires have come to the surface, of late. So, looking into the "draft" archives, I found a post I had started back in 2013, that never got finished. Five years later, it has reminded me of a game Reagan and I now play. Hide and Seek is an amazing game, as seen through the eyes of a child. All you have to do is duck your head, and/or close your eyes, and whoever is searching for you, even though they may be looking directly at you, cannot see you. Even if you say, "Is Reagan in the _______ (fill in the blank), and she really isn't there, you will hear her sweet voice from another room (where she really is), loudly say, "No." If you start to leave the room she is in, she will make a noise, as if she is trying to whistle so you will know you are close to where she is. But only when she is REALLY hiding. Like behind a chair, or closet door.

I love this kid, sooooo much!!! She consistently puts a smile on my face and laughter in my soul.

So, with that, here is the archived draft from 2013. Left dangling, unfinished; I think I will finish it today.

      I left work a wee bit early today. It was becoming more and more uncomfortable being where others could see me...and business had become quiet. While driving home, I decided to put my sunglasses on. Ahhhh...all of a sudden, my confidence in who I am began to become evident to me once again. All it took was to remove my regular eyeglasses and replace them with sunglasses. I felt hidden from sight. No one could see me. Weird, how that happens.

     Yesterday, in a moment of frustration, I decided to cut most of my hair off. It had become way too long for what I'm accustomed to, and just the day before, a contract worker explained why he was laughing as I walked out of my place of business. "I thought you had a motorcycle helmet on," he said, choking on his own laughter. "I guess it's time for a haircut," I quietly replied as I quickly slipped the key in the lock. Motivation came flooding in, as I determined once and for all, to change the way I looked. My evidently large helmet sized head sank lower as I walked out the door.

     When my girls were mere toddlers, I would place a dish towel over their heads where they couldn't see me, and we played peek-a-boo for what seemed like hours. They would giggle as I said, "Where's Lindsey (or Meghan...whichever it was)." You know the game. When they pulled the cloth off their faces, I would say, "Oh! There you are!" It was a fun game for them...and me. That simple act of placing something over their heads created a sense of invisibility. I guess it lingers into adulthood. My sunglasses had become my personal dish towel.

Ah...the essence of youth and cute hair. You rarely, if ever, see a child fussing about their hair and how it looks. And yet, it's usually adorable. Combed, or not combed. The only time it's important for them to be invisible is when they are hiding from you.

 As the years travel quickly past me, I still remain young at heart. Is it possible that's how God intended it to be, like, forever??? I've said it more than once, "I still feel as if I'm in my 30's." My body may be showing signs of being a few years older, but who I am, is stuck back in the 80's. Where are my sunglasses?

If you've lost me, look for me here, in Mary's World...behind the sunglasses.

Night Visits

Well, they seem to have started their attempt at bondage once again. It's been awhile. The night terrors I have experienced over the years, have paid me a visit 3 times, in the last week. Last night was a bit different, in that, not only did the sheet of unexpected attempts at silencing me happen, there was also a throw-back dream (of sorts), that followed the screams piercing the late night hours.

But first...a little history. Many years ago, before giving my life to God, I would have recurring dreams of water. A lot of water. In those dreams, I could barely keep myself from drowning as the water reached out for me. In one dream, I had a baby that, as we were going under, I would stretch as high as I could to lift her enough to keep her head above the foreboding waters. She was always safe, but I was under the water. I didn't know it then, but I know it now. That was God telling me I had to die to what I was, in order for the new to be birthed and alive. And the new me would live.

But the most vivid dream of all was the recurring one of falling into a pit of sand that would not cough me up, no matter how hard I tried to free myself. The more I tried digging my way to freedom, the more sand spilled in upon me until it totally covered up my only way of escape. As the last bit of sky was removed from my sight, and the sand had totally engulfed me, I felt the urge to turn and look to my left. When I did, a large opening presented itself to me, with light pouring through it. One that was so simple, so easy, to walk through. And I did. God had made a way of escape, where there seemed to be none. And all it took was for me to stop grabbing at the thing that was burying me. Again, I didn't realize it then, but I do now. 

The night terrors began years later. The first one was in December of 1974. They consistently, and periodically, visited me over the coming years. I never knew when they would present themselves. Looking back, I can remember times of extreme stress being my companion, as I navigated life. The years prior to becoming a Christian had left a lot of mental & physical baggage that needed unpacked. I really don't know if the stress caused the terrors, or if the terrors caused the stress. Not long after laying my head down to sleep, many nights just as I was drifting off, a very demonic face would come from a far corner of our bedroom, and with sonic speed, stop just short of my face. I would wake with a blood-curdling scream. Those were during the young years of my Christianity, and prior to becoming a mom.

The terrors would stop for quite a while, only to return later. Never knew why they stopped, but was tremendously happy about it. Then they began again, with full on force, in 2013 upon moving to North Carolina. But with a different terror. Now I was experiencing a grid-like object hovering over my face, as it threatened to smash into me or imprison me. I was also "seeing" short (talking 3 foot tall) guys of Indian (not Native) descent, standing only a few feet from me. They stood, just gazing in my direction as if trying to decide who I was. They never threatened me, it was just intensely terrifying to wake and see someone in my room...watching me.

Last night, and for the last two times of visitation, the terror presented itself as a see-through cloth just drifting over me, making me think it was going to cover me. These terrors all feel so real. I believe I am fully awake, but seem to be in a dream-like state, then STARTLED awake. Not able to remove the cloth, my being just reacted with screaming. And then, the dream came. It was different, yet the same, in that I was about to be consumed. I was heading out to purchase more twigs and vines for a display I was preparing. When I got to the store, a wall of dense, multi-colored and hardened sponge, had blocked the entire store, allowing no entrance. As I made my way forward (stubborn, I am), I found myself engulfed by the wall of foamy sponge. Did I fall into it? I don't know. But, I do know there was only about 3 feet between me and safety as I tried to remove myself from certain death. The wall began to wrap itself around me until I couldn't move. I could still see the sky, so reached upward, trying to find anything I could grab onto to get me to safety. But...any move I made only caused the wall to further secure its victim. Like a fly caught in a web, and much like the pit of sand of many years prior.

I awoke, having had no escape presented to me. During my morning shower, I pondered this dream. I know direction is trying to lead me. I also know I am trying to hold onto something God is asking me to let go of. Something that is sucking the life out of me. And guess what is laying at my doorstep. Fear. Little Much Afraid is looking directly at the situation she finds herself to be in, and all the terrifying cousins she must encounter along the way to freedom are lurking, watching every move she makes.

So, here I am, Lord. Speak. You'll find me here, in Mary's World...

The Silent Cry

"The face is a picture of the mind as the eyes are its interpreter." ~Cicero    
"The eyes are the window of the soul." ~William Shakespear
"The light of the body is the eye." ~Matthew 6:22

If evidence of our condition comes through our eyes because eyes are the windows to our soul, or if our face betrays what's on our mind; there are many souls walking the surface of our planet that is in deep despair. And their silent cries are deafening. Their eyes are covered in a mist that has created numerous, indifferent responses without so much of a glance in the direction of any question that may be asked of them. They are everywhere but the geographic space their body stands upon.

Of late, it has grabbed my heart in a way I never expected. Possibly, because I have dealt with deep sadness; a loneliness in my spirit. At first, I was just annoyed when coming face to face with what I perceived to be a less than admirable attitude. I've complained to my husband, my daughters, and most likely to anyone that would listen. It's so very hard to tolerate an attitude of indifference. Research has shown that 68% of customers do not return to an establishment because they have experienced an attitude of indifference in those serving them. I can verify that is certainly the case with me. I have way too many options to have to subject myself to people who couldn't care less if I shop with them, or not.

I really don't expect anyone to kiss my queenly hand, but it would be nice to give me a quick "I see you" glance and possibly a slight uplifting at the corners of their mouth. Especially if I'm in their check-out lane at the grocery store, or department store. Or sitting at their table, or booth, in the restaurant where they are employed. It just unnerves me. At the very least, it's impolite. And...I've always decided the amount of tip to leave, simply by the attitude with which one served me.

Of late, my heart has hurt for the sadness (indifference) I see in people's eyes (their souls?). I rarely see smiling faces when I'm out and about. Everyone seems to be in their own little world. And it's not just at places of service. I see them walking down the street, driving a car, standing in line. That world doesn't look like a place I'd want to live, even though I have found myself visiting that place on occasion.

Why do we brush people off so quickly? Have we decided they are just miserable people to be left alone? Or maybe, just maybe, they wish someone cared enough about them, to offer friendship or just a smile. A real smile. Surely I'm not the only person who enjoys seeing happy people or receive the "I see you" smile.

Because we have a story, we can bet that everyone else has a story, as well. Stories of hurt, of deep pain, of hope lost, of uncertainty. Stories of loneliness and deafening silence, of shattered dreams of a simple, peaceful existence. Those are the people who need to see life still IS worth living.

Do we have a part in making sure they know this? If so, what does that look like? How could the silent people, who have the Words of Life, speak up, without offending or sounding self-righteous?

It's also been said that "actions speak louder than words." ~Abraham Lincoln

Maybe we can just start with a smile...

Sorting through my thoughts, here you'll find me, in Mary's World.

Strolling Down Memory Lane

In the cool morning air, with coffee in hand, I took an unintentional stroll down memory lane this morning. I love this time of day (5:00a.m.-6:30a.m.) and the beauty outside my living room window beckoned me to come on outside.

A perfect 64 degrees, the stillness of the early morning captured my spirit. I decided to "just walk a bit." As I stepped off the front porch and looked around at the majestic Oaks, slender Elm, the Sycamores and the Walnut trees, my mind took me back to the days when our girls were just beginning their life's journey.

The first swing that hung by ropes from the large Oak tree that edged our drive, began it's gentle back and forth motion with Lindsey, our very active first born. She loved the swing and would giggle with much happiness when pushed. But she couldn't stay there for long. She had to be in other parts of her world...exploring, creating, singing and praising the Lord with hands lifted way above her head as she made up songs that touched her mother's heart and made it smile with gratitude. So creative, that one.

It was for her third birthday that Daddy created the big playground for a place she and her little sister could entertain each other, and the sounds of giggling girls could warm any heart within hearing distance. Momma even used the swings when she had some alone time...later...after her children were grown and gone. The set started out with tire swings until a neighbor rebuked the girl's daddy for not making "real" swings. The playground was upgraded pretty quickly. But now, as I watch the memories dance around in my head, I notice the ground where it was designed, now bare, wishing for the feet of little girls again. Or is that just me?

The wide slide made out of laminate cabinet topping had to be oiled frequently, in order to offer up a sliding experience second to none. There was also a sandbox placed just under the deck that was at the top of the slide, and two swings made out of rubber and large chains were hung ever so enticingly from the solid oak beam that stretched out to connect to the deck. I had put in a request for a ladder that ran from the deck to the large, old Oak that simply begged for a tree house to live in its branches. We never got that far...but what we had, brought a lot of enjoyment. And the non-existent tree house was vivid in my mind as I watched the girls climb up the horizontal bars attached to the tree, or clamored over the extended ladder, to have tea time in the playhouse.

In the backyard that bordered a wooded area, were two fruit trees. A very productive apple tree, that neighbors from all around would come to gather in some of its harvest and a somewhat fruitful peach tree that served only the family it belonged to. The apple blossoms were always a favorite with the girls. Many a picture was taken with the two of them under that tree when the blossoms were in full bloom. Lindsey demanded it.  I still am in awe of her ability to capture with a camera, what she sees as beauty. Little did we know that a bit of her future was being formed...

As the months turned into years, our lives took many a turn. One such turn was when Lindsey's sister, Meg, was given a beautiful Appaloosa horse as a gift of love, near her 13th birthday. Half of our acre wide homestead had to be fenced off to make room for this generous gift. Trottsey had come to live with us and needed a place to graze and lope around. Again, Daddy (and uncle Danny & Grandpa Denzil), came to the rescue. A lean-to was added to an existing shed that was created years before, as a playhouse for the two sisters. Now, Trosttsey could get in out of the weather, and have a place to eat dry food or just snooze. A little later we had to acquire a larger area for her to get enough grazing and to stretch her legs out. Didn't take her long to nub out our yard and there really wasn't space for running. An adventure was about to happen that none could have predicted. To this day, I am still in awe of Meg's ability to calm and direct animals (and people). A bit of her future was being formed...


What you have just read, was typed out more than a few years ago. I seriously cannot remember when I began this draft. We were still living in Oklahoma, where the girls grew up because I do remember that particular morning. Why I didn't finish it, is anybody's guess. Most likely I had other fish to fry and just forgot about it. My thought is we were about to make the move to North Carolina and I was taking in all that I could about the place we had called home for the last 37 years and then became distracted by the necessities of life, just to leave it dangling in the archives of this blog space.

I love memory lane! Even the memories that, while experiencing them, weren't so happy. They formed our family. They caused us to stick like glue to the solid foundation that Christ had built for us many, many years ago. We had so many wonderful, happy times; but it was in the darkest of times that we grew to love each other the most. It was in the hard, challenging times, that we pressed into our faith that God would help us move the mountains, or at least create a path through them, and come out the other side, still a family. A family that would understand love just a little more than before the mountain presented itself.

Love is not a feeling. Love is a choice. Sure, we have a lot of warm, fuzzy, feelings when we are happy. But that's not real love, even though we call it that. Love will move mountains. Love covers any adversity and calls it opportunity. Love doesn't hold the injustice of words spoken and determines it's revenge. Nope. Love doesn't take a wrong suffered and retaliate. Love loves. In spite of pain suffered.

We can always trust the words of the Father. "Be strong and courageous. I will never leave you, nor forsake you." ~Deuteronomy 31:6.

I've shared only a few memories, here. Memories of when our children were small. Yet, God's memory of us goes much further back. He knew us before He formed us in our mother's womb (Jeremiah 1:5 and Ephesians 1:4-5). He knew the path we would take, yet He loved us enough to sacrifice Himself and show us that we could, indeed, overcome anything that presented itself unpleasant to us. He showed us how to love. Really love...

Making memories, while living off memories, here you'll find me...in Mary's World.

So You Think You Have "Fallen in Love"

I've lived a lot of years. A lot! 😉 I have learned some things. I have still yet to learn other things. But, I have come to the conclusion that we don't "fall in love", but that we CHOOSE to love. We choose to love in spite of others actions, or the lack of their actions. We choose to love, because we were first loved by the Father. And He showed us what real love is.

Sound miserable? It's not. Oh, some days I would dispute that. But reality causes me to take a deep breath and look a little closer at what love really is. I do know that beautiful word is used waaaayyyy too many times to describe sexual feelings, comfort feelings, getting what I want feelings, and the all-around-feel-good feelings. The sun is shining, feelings. We're going to the beach (or mountains) awesome feelings.

But, what happens when life throws you a curve? What happens to "love" when trustworthy suddenly becomes irresponsible? What happens to "love" when there is no beach trip because there is no money to fund it? What happens to "love" when the one you "love" has a different point of view and expresses it with a raised voice? Do we still "love"? Or in that moment, do we decide the "love of our life" is not who we want to be with any longer? Oops! Love leaked out somehow. Love has been replaced with anger. Love has been replaced with the pain of harsh words. I just can't believe there to be any long-term relationship without differences that hurt on occasion. Love is a CHOICE!

Just to help us out a bit, Scripture defines love for us. This is how one measures love. We don't "fall in love". If you can go through this list and say with an honest heart, that you pass the love test, then you are indeed a very special person. Almost perfect, ready to be reunited with your Maker, and collect your just reward. Love is a choice, simply because life is unpredictable. For me, the first two out of the gate keeps me grounded, and aware of just how much I still fall short. Patient & kind. At all times.


I Corinthians 13: 4-8a

v.4. Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.
v.5. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.
v.6. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.
v.7. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.
v8a. Love never fails

The road less traveled is the one that is narrow, with hardship, and must be lived by faith in the One Jesus Christ, who sacrificed everything so we might have an eternity with our Creator, all the while having an understanding of the way of peace and true love, while on this planet. Why is that? Because few will give up the right to control what comes in to their life, and what don't. Many try to enter the love gate by allowing for human effort and all other of the world's religions. It's non-exclusive. These are those who don't believe that Jesus is the only way to the Father of all life. Ah...the truth in the lie of tolerance. Jesus died for ALL, but all don't choose Him.

There is only one way to know what love truly is. And it isn't easy. Love takes denying yourself. And that's a tough one.

As always, here you'll find me...in Mary's World. (It really belongs to God, but he's loaned a portion of it to me). 😉

Crazy Lady on Warren Avenue

I was so glad to spot this sign in a local consignment shop, yesterday. That sign swept all my fears right out the door as it said, "Welcome, crazy lady Mary! Sit a spell and have a glass of sweat tea."

There have been a few instances (okay...more than a few), that a North Carolinian could have sized me up and declared me to be a little lop-sided in the belfry. Oklahomans already knew this, since I had been around for, let's see...39 plus years, and they had grown to love me. The understanding ones (those with similar issues), anyway.

I'll just throw a couple of questionable instances out here, and you can let me know if I'm Southerner enough to parade my crazy. And while you read, don't forget the declaration of the aforementioned sign...

Instance #1. It was somewhere around July 9th, or 10th, of this year. My husband had made a trip back West, leaving me to fend for myself. That's not always a good thing. I take things to bed with me. For protection. Like my very sharp letter opener.

On this particular evening, my psyche had already been put on high alert from an event that took place moments after going to bed. Something (or someone), pounded the outside of the house just about 3 feet from where my bed was. It wasn't just a little scrape, or thump. We're talking, "let's knock a hole in this wall", thump. As my eyes stretched wide with terror, I stealthily moved quietly out of bed, grabbed my dagger and iPhone light, ready to make anyone that might be trying to enter crazy Mary's house wish they had not. And of course, I found no one around. Completely invisible to me, maybe they had decided to hide in the dark recesses beneath the screened in porch...also a short distance away from my bedroom. Geez, who beats on the side of ANYONE's house after 11pm? Someone with a death wish, evidently.

I finally told myself it must have been a blind deer trying to find new growth from any of the bushes they missed the previous night, thinking my bedroom wall was foliage. Hey. Ya gotta do what ya gotta do to assure yourself you will be alive come morning. We do have motion sensor lights on the outside of our house (somewhat comforting), and one of them was glaring into the night's darkness. Just as I suspected they would. I knew by that, SOMETHING triggered it!!! I decided to leave those lights on, and return to bed.

Once there, I found that sleep wasn't easy to find, either. When at last I dozed off, a gentle "beep" went off in the hallway that is adjacent to our bedroom. What???!!! Okay, as my heart muscle began placing my chest in a choke hold, I knew that someone who had been dishonorably discharged from the military was now in my house, and had some sort of explosive that was about to go off. Thus the beeping noise. I really didn't know what to do. I waited (without breathing). 5-10 seconds later, there was another soft "beep". So, what is this guy doing? Just STANDING in my hall???

I knew I had to face the music. With my trusty letter opener gripped tightly in my right fist, again, I was ready to leave my mark on whoever had been bold enough to cross my threshold. The hall was empty. Surprise, surprise. "beep-beep-beep". WHERE is that coming from?! Then all went silent. At that moment, I realized it was the carbon monoxide detector. What should I do? Am I being gassed as I stare at it? Will I be able to get out in time since it is an odorless gas, I really can't tell how long I might have. Wait! This is too easy for Dennis. His wishes could not be allowed to come true. I should call the FIRE DEPARTMENT! They will rescue me! They're up all night anyway, and it's only 1 am. Okay, Google, find the number for me.

The fire chief told me in his very professional voice, to "leave the premises now." Now??? Ummm...I'm not clothed properly. So, being the bright young lady that I am, I said, "Do I have time to put some clothes on?" Please. Do not ask what was going on in my crazy head. I HAVE NO IDEA!!! I can only imagine the laughter, the jokes, the innuendoes, happening after I closed that conversation out.

A huge fire truck arrived within a few minutes. They had even prepared a second one that had began it's journey to Warren Avenue, as well. Three firemen got out of the first unit and made their way to our house, preparing for the worst, I'm sure. I was just leaving the house, when they pulled up. Yes, it took me awhile to find proper clothing in the middle of the chaotic stressors of the night hours. Good thing I was still in the house. Someone had to unlock the door for them, since I missed that memo. I think it quite possible, as I now reflect on this event, that my brain took a vacation without inviting my body. An empty shell remained to figure out something an alone person should never have to.

I'm going to cut this story short, even though there is a lot more to share about it. The beeping was not coming from a carbon monoxide detector. We don't have one, the fire chief tells me. It was the fire alarm. The fire alarm that was 18 years old and the battery was going belly up, but wanted to alert me first. Whew. I may not die after all. At least not from being gassed. Embarrassment, maybe. But not from carbon monoxide poisoning. Not tonight...

Instance #2. See the picture to the right? What do you think THAT is? If you guessed a bone, you would be correct! Hanging on my backyard swing. Yep. This happened just a couple of evenings ago. It was a beautiful evening, with a cool breeze blowing, so I decided to sit a spell (minus the sweet tea), out on the backyard swing. I always look the swing over, before sitting down. Simply because it's back is up against a wooded area and I don't relish the idea of a snake just dropping down for a visit. I don't like the shape of their tongues. It makes conversation double sided, if you know what I mean...

When I spotted this bone, I immediately took a picture and sent it via text message to my husband. My, in the house, relaxing, husband. He had mowed the yard the evening before, so I wondered what he was thinking by placing a bone on my swing. He claims he didn't do it. Right. I figured he was trying (again) to make me think I was going mental. But when he came out to take a look, I knew he was telling me the truth. He didn't do it. Okay. Where did it come from? He said it "probably dropped out of the tree." What??? Look how big that thing is! It dropped out of a tree. Yeah. I'd hate to come face to face with whatever drug that thing up the tree. Ya know, the tree that is in my backyard. Yeah, THAT tree!

So, who put the bone on my swing? And why were they in my back yard? And why did they choose to hang it from my swing? Why not throw it into the wooded area? And, why were they in MY back yard??? Had they been swinging? WHY were they in my back yard?!

As the evening drew to a close, I couldn't get this partial, dehydrated, strangely odd bone, out of my head. I googled the human humerus. Bingo! We had part of a skeleton's arm hanging from our swing. And from the length of it, it appeared to be the bone from a small child. Maybe an 8-10 year old. My next move was to text my reality-check daughter. She never pulls any punches, just tells it like it is. And it's mostly, "Mom. You're over-thinking this," daughter. "Maybe you should call the police and let them decide," she surprisingly said. Even she agreed the two looked similar. Similar enough to have it checked out.

Now my mind began forming all kinds of scenarios. 'Cause, like I said. This girl never sugar coats anything. Straight up truth. AND, I had always thought the dip in our backyard was because people were buried there. Granted, my mind may be a little over-active at times. A client suggested the dip in our yard was most likely a previous garden spot. Whatever... ;-)

So....the nice policeman arrives, and I show him my pictures before going out to where my husband had thrown the bone. This was like at 9:30 pm, and it was very dark out. That's significant. I'm not sure why, it just is. Plus, I was pretty sure my name had popped up in the system before the guy came out. Remember the fire alarm thingy? I'm probably marked by the City of Cary as being an unbalanced person, so there's that.

The evening came, and went, just as fast as that bone flew through the air on it's way to another adventure. The officer declared it to be an old animal bone. Good enough. But still...HOW did it get on my swing, and WHY was it there? According to the nice man, "a kid probably found it, and while walking through your private yard to get to his house, across the street and a half mile behind your house, through brush that needed a machete blade placed against it in order to pass through, probably just decided that was a good place to hang it. You know, up high, instead of conveniently placing it on the lower support bar. Cause kids are like that. They take the hard way, instead of the easy."  Ummmmm...right! *eye roll

Now, it's your turn. Do I fit into the North Carolinian atmosphere? And would you offer me a sweet tea if I came to sit a spell?

I am optimistically awaiting your response...here, in Mary's World.