Last Letter to Santa

My family and I spent much of last night going through keepsakes in my old cedar chest. I was amazed at the things I had managed to save: school report cards, my children's artwork from early elementary school, homemade Mother's Day cards, all the letters my father had written to me while I was in the military, and the list goes on...With each object retrieved from the chest, there was a story to accompany it. One item we came across was a letter Rachel had written to Santa in December 2001.

The story: Rachel was nine years old when she wrote that letter and, although most of her friends had told her that Santa didn't exist, she wanted so desperately to hold onto that belief. One day after school, Rachel asked, "Mom, are you and Dad really Santa Claus? My friends say that you are." I asked, "Do you really want to know?" and she replied, "Yes." I told her to come into my bedroom, that I didn't want Morgan to hear, and then I said, "Yes, your dad and I are Santa." She looked at me, tears filling her eyes, and yelled, "You're lying! There is a Santa!" I did what any other loving, nurturing mother would do. I looked her straight in the eye and said, "Yes, you're right. There IS a Santa." From that day on, we never spoke another word about the existence of Santa. The Christmas holiday in the Revels household proceded as normal. The exchange between Rachel and I did, however, sparke a letter to Santa. This would be the last letter she would ever write to Santa. Here it is, errors and all, a letter from a nine-year-old:

Dear Santa Claus,
Are you real? My mom said she is santa. It is me remember Rachel ______. I have a lot of things on my list already. I don't trust my mom. My sister is a pain in the neck. Last year you wrote to me after I wrote to you. The things down below are the things I want for Christmas. You don't have to get me every thing just a few things. Please write to me if you are real. The thing I want the most is a best friend that only I can see and they can live with me. My real best friend is not in my class and she never comes over. November 18, 2001 my best friend was sopposed to come over but my mom would not let her she promisd she could come over but she would not let her. I know this is along letter but I have a lot of things to tell you about. November 21, 2001 I brought a bug to school I showed it to my Principal she thought it was cool. I showed it to my teacher and she was scared of it. This is the list.

List of toys
1. Harry Potter doll
2. Barbie volys wagon
3. A big jeep
4. A piano that can fit in my room
5. Harry Potter
6. A couple of hip hop cds
7. A flexible chair
8. Some movies
9. Air snare

Love,
Rachel

Same Kind of Different As Me

I just finished reading one of the best non-fiction books I have ever read--SAME KIND OF DIFFERENT AS ME by Ron Hall and Denver Moore. I happened upon this book by complete accident, strolling through Barnes and Noble while looking for another book in specific. As I was leaving the store, the cover of this book jumped out at me and being a special education teacher, the title gave me the impression that the book was about diversity, disabilities, and tolerance, or the lack thereof. In a way, I was right but the story was not at all what I expected. The producers of the movie "Pursuit of Happyness" are working on translating this book to film. It's a definite must-read! In addition, there's a website to visit but only AFTER you've read the book: http://www.samekindofdifferentasme.com/.

"A dangerous, homeless drifter who grew up picking cotton in virtual slavery. An upscale art dealer accustomed to the world of Armani and Chanel. A gutsy woman with a stubborn dream. A story so incredible no novelist would dare dream it."

Summer Highlights

My summer days come to an end and so I reflect on the activities as this season passes. Softball prevailed in July.

Camping with family and friends took place in the latter part of the summer. My neice, Shannon, left for Ft. Pickett on August 19th and will head on to Iraq October.

Then, of course, there is Rachel's sweet 16 birthday party!

A Force to Reckon With

Featured in today's local paper: 12U Fastpitch Softball

This team of girls won the gold in their last two tournaments of the season!

Sweet 16! Elijah, Marc, and Joseph's serenade


Celebrating with friends and family

Sweet 16

In just four days my first child turns 16 years old! I recall the months that lead up to the day I found out I was pregnant.

My father had died unexpectedly on a crisp October morning and for the next few months there wasn't one day in which I didn't cry. Whenever I was alone for more than 10 minutes, I would cry--in the shower, on the way to work. I cried myself to sleep almost every night. Every day I prayed that I could see my dad in my dreams; just to talk to him. Around the end of December my prayer was answered. I dreamed that I was in high school and playing softball. My father parked on a hill overlooking the softball field and waited for my practice to end. I remember running up the hill, bat in one hand and glove in the other. I jumped in the truck and immediately began to rattle of the events of my day. My dad sat silently, listening. When I complained that my stomach hurt, my father reached over and unsnapped my jeans--his solution for my stomach ache. My stomach instantly grew to the dash and then I woke up. On January 6, 1992 (my husband's birthday), I found out that I was pregnant. The dream I had of my father suddenly made sense--this was God's way of letting me see my father and involving him in a special moment in my life. From that point on, my life had a renewed sense of purpose. I was able to pull myself together and look forward a different chapter in my life.

We Are the 'Campions', My Friend!

My children and I have just returned from two nights of camping and I must say that no matter how much 'stuff' we take, it's never quite enough--except for lighter fluid--we had plenty of lighter fluid. It's a good thing, too, because I had to stand over the fire and revive it with a squirt of fluid about every 40 seconds. Eventually, we had a roaring fire (well roaring may not be the appropriate terminology) but it was enough to roast marshmallows over.

Speaking of marshmallows...this was an introduction to camping for my friend and two of her children, who have NEVER had s'mores or even roasted marshmallows! These delicacies were such a hit that not only were they dessert Thursday night but they were breakfast Friday morning. Two bags of marshmallows and 12 Hersey bars were gone less than 18 hours into the trip.

Tent life was a different story. My daughter, Morgan, painstakingly guarded the tent against anyone entering with dirty feet or, more importantly, stepping across her air mattress, much to her chagrin. You see, this is an impossible feat with a three-year-old in the picture, especially if that three-year-old knows the teenager disapproves of dirt! By the time we packed up our tent at the end of our stay, we were sleeping in sand, candy wrappers, spilled soda, wet blankets, rabbit food (that's a story for another time), and a set of lost keys. It might be funny the first time the vehicle alarm goes off and nobody can find the keys to turn it off, but by the fourth time I believe neighboring campers were conspiring to have our noisy group removed from the premises. So, needless to say, we were a little relieved when the drunken brawl across the way broke out and secured the 'Most Obnoxious Campers' award, making our stint with the title a short one.

Although the weather was not always cooperative, our last few days have definitely been adventurous. It was interesting to see people experience sleeping in a tent and roasting over a fire for the first time. This weekend was also a learning experience for me, too. Time without the fella's made me appreciate my husband even more. I've never had to bother with getting a fire going or packing up the tent. I guess I've taken my hubby for granted when it comes to the grunt work of outdoor living!

About 20 minutes into sleep on the first night, I awoke to a flat air mattress. I tossed and turned, arranged pillow and blanket, all to no avail. I would have been more comfortable sleeping on the hood of the truck and, believe me, that crossed my mind quite a few times. The following night, I gave ample warning that when the mattress went flat, I was blowing it back up. I was afraid that the pump would wake everyone up but I think by that time we were so exhausted that a bear could have run through our tent and they would have slept through it. Actually, when we woke up on Saturday it looked as though a herd of elephants did trample through. Anyway, I ended up blowing it up four times during the night.

Now, I close, hearing the beckoning calls of my soft, warm critter-free bed. My only hope for the weekend is that we didn't turn my friend off from camping forever!

Oh, yeah--the book fair rocks!