Nancy s summer diary july
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The Visitor: Monica's Diary, Saturday July 1 free porn video
The Visitor
Monica's Diary
July 1, Saturday
I brought up the dilemma of Timothy's necessary accommodations to Nathan
over supper on Friday night.
"According to Rachel Berry, he sleeps in the girls' room or in one by
himself. That means the boys camp out during the summer and sleep in the
living room when it turns cold, or we give him our bedroom."
"And you sleep on the sofa and I on the floor." Nathan chewed both on
his food and those possibilities for a few seconds.
"Stinky's going to get our room?" Josiah asked.
"Well he can't stay with us," Elizabeth protested.
"That would be stinky," Sarah added.
"But if he slept in our room, we wouldn't have to clean it ever again,
right?" Josiah's eyes lit up when Mark said that.
"What about the attic?" Nathan suggested. "I've already got a floor
down. I could rough-in some walls pretty quickly."
"And there's already a light up there," Hannah added. "But," she paused,
"it would be awfully hot, and cold, when it gets cold."
"He would only be up there to change clothes and to sleep. A fan and a
space heater should do. The rest of the time he'll be with us." As soon
as Nathan said this, he grabbed a pen and pad from his pocket and began
figuring.
"I hate to bring this up," I said, "and I don't by any means want you
think I want him in there with the girls, but might he not think we are
doing to him what they did to him at the boys' ranch."
Hannah looked up at the ceiling. "Oh, mama, that would be worse!"
"We'd be digging him out of the creek again in no time." Mark said as he
punched Josiah.
"Yes," Nathan answered, looking up from his computations. "I see your
point."
"So, we get to camp out?" Josiah asked.
"Just until we get you two bunked into the attic." Nathan smiled and so
did I. That was a solution.
"No more cleaning our room!" Josiah shouted.
"How do you figure that, mister?" I asked.
"Are you going to climb the ladder every day to inspect us?" Mark asked.
He knew--everyone that knows me knows--that bringing five of God's
greatest gifts to term had wrought no little havoc in my lower back. I
can get around fine, as long as I don't overdo it, but I would be
deceiving myself and lying to God if I were not the first to admit that
the necessity of my limitations was as much the mother of my children's
structured life as I was.
"I don't have to," I replied. "That's why God gave me my firstborn. She
will inspect you daily." Needless to say, she grinned, and they groaned.
We continued eating as we usually do, until something that had been
nagging at the back of my mind finally pushed itself to the fore. It was
the question of Timothy's clothes.
"I don't know what became of Timothy's Skyla clothes, but if he is to be
released to us in the near future, we really need to find something
appropriate for him to wear."
"Appropriate is not the word I would use, but I know what you mean."
Nathan replied.
"What kind of budget do we have for that?" I asked.
"You know his sizes?" Nathan asked
"I do," Hannah said.
Both Nathan and I looked at her sharply.
"What? I did his stinky laundry remember, and the sizes were kind of
weird."
"How so?" I asked.
"Well the bottoms, you know, the ..." She began and then hesitated,
looking over at the boys.
"I know," I said quickly.
"They were tiny, like extra small or something, but that pink top was
larger than anything I've got. I think you could wear it."
"That's not weird at all," I said. "Boys, even when they're little, have
narrow hips, and their shoulders are always wider. As they get older,
the Dorito shape becomes more pronounced. It just means we have to be
very careful if we buy him any kind of one-piece outfit."
The boys were rolling their eyes at each other and smirking. Nathan
simply stared at his plate.
"You're not thinking about Dillard's or Penney's or any place like that
are you?" He asked, still not looking up.
"Well, since Timothy is the only child of a well-to-do family, he is
probably accustomed to nice things. I figured he'd be disappointed if we
didn't try Raffkins, Lillie's Boutique, or maybe even Riley Blue."
A man may know nothing of fashion or have the slightest idea of where to
shop for the women in his life, but he does have this sixth sense about
money. Maybe it was the names themselves, but more probably it was the
wide-eyed, open-mouthed reaction of his daughters that started the red
lights flashing and the klaxons sounding in his head. He looked up from
his plate at me with real fear in his eyes.
"Of course," I said and paused, "since his shape is, shall we say
abnormal for the clothing, perhaps we should try Torrid."
At the mention of this last, plus-size, shop, the girls broke out into
guffaws of laughter and gave away my little charade. Nathan relaxed,
smiled, and wagged a no-no finger.
"Don't worry," I said. "I know just the places." And that's how the
girls and I ended up clothes shopping today.
There are a score or more thrift stores and resale shops in Amarillo,
not counting Goodwill and the Salvation Army. From time to time various
churches of sundry denominations have bazaars, and there is always a
garage sale somewhere. Whenever we get to come to town without the spear
side of our family, we try to race around to as many of these locations
as we can to keep track of what and what sizes are currently available
and at what costs.
"You know Skyla's not going to like anything we pick out," I remarked,
as we sifted through gently used skirts and blouses. We had agreed in
the car on the way that we would simply speak of Skyla rather than
Timothy while shopping.
"What?" Hannah asked. "I'd think after all that's happened Skyla would
be glad to wear anything."
I was trying to match a size 11 top with a size 5 skirt and not having
any success. "Your father and I have always wanted you girls to look
pretty. Skyla's parents never wanted anything like that for Skyla."
"So, Skyla knows nothing about clothes," Sarah said.
"To Skyla, pretty means cute, which to Skyla means attractive." I found
a size 13 that might work; Timothy would only grow after all.
"What's wrong with that?" Elizabeth asked. She was holding up a little
blouse that with her autumn coloring made her look very smart.
"Well, to be attractive means to be drawing the attention of the
opposite sex to yourself. If you are not ready to become a wife and
mother, or if he is not ready to assume the support and headship of a
family, what's the point?"
"What about friendship?" Hannah suggested.
"Friendship in a group is fine. One-on-one, not so much."
"But why, mama?" Sarah asked.
"God made your father and brothers different from you and me. They are
much more physical in every way. Everything has to have a purpose, a
goal, an objective, a target. One-on-one, we become the target."
"Mom!" Hannah looked around to see if anyone overheard.
"The point I'm trying to make is that Skyla cannot help but confuse
pretty with sexy. To Skyla the whole point of clothes is to draw the
attention of the opposite sex."
"But that's crazy," said Sarah. "Skyla can never become a wife or a
mother."
"No, but if Skyla finds the image in the mirror sexually attractive,
then as far as Skyla is concerned mission accomplished."
"What mission?" Elizabeth asked.
"To Skyla, being sexually aroused by an image in the mirror is being a
woman."
"So," Hannah said, drawing the word out, "as far as Skyla is concerned,
we're not women because we dress modestly."
"I think modesty in dress makes Skyla angry, because we could act out
the fantasies Skyla has but don't."
"Skyla is angry because Skyla is jealous?" Hannah asked.
"I think so," I said. "Anger is the result of jealousy, which is the
result of covetousness, desiring what you have no right to, which is the
result of pride--thinking that you deserve everything you want."
"And that's why Skyla won't like anything we pick out," said Sarah.
"But what if we did buy Skyla short skirts and all the rest?" Hannah
asked.
"I'm sure Skyla would be thrilled for a while, but without the physical
confirmation of the ever so carefully constructed fantasy that is
Skyla's self-image, the thrill would be but a temporary euphoria." As I
said this, I happened to glance around and notice the shoe section.
Flip-flops would do for now, but Skyla's feet would certainly need
measuring.
"And then what?" Elizabeth asked.
"Then Skyla would either have to get more clothes or find confirmation
of that self-image in some other way, like by doing feminine things."
"But probably not things like cooking, cleaning, washing, and ironing,"
Hannah said with a smile.
"I suspect you're right, but I'm sure we'll find out one way or another
after Skyla comes home to us. We may very well have a Suzy Homemaker who
takes to our life like a duck to water, but whether Skyla likes
housework or not, or even has talents in areas of feminine
accomplishment, it does not alter God's creation. Some of the very best
cooks, interior decorators, and dress designers are men."
We continued sorting through piles. We found a couple of skirts and at
least one top we calculated would fit. Then off we went to another place
and another after that. We had picked up two more blouses and two more
skirts before we stopped in the park for lunch.
"You know we still have to find him some underwear," Hannah said after
pouring us each a glass of water.
"We can always run by Walmart and buy them by the package; they won't be
that expensive," I said.
"He'll hate them mom; you saw what he had on."
"I know, but it's our money that we're spending. If his family sends him
money for clothes, he can buy what he wants, if he's willing to go to
the store and buy it himself." We both kind of laughed at that. That's
when Sarah posed a question that she must have been thinking about for
some time.
"Mama, did God create Timothy the way he is."
"I think if you asked Timothy that, he would say 'yes'. According to
him, he has felt as he does since as far back as he can remember. But
what have your father and I always told you girls about relying upon
either your feelings or your reason?" I handed out our sandwiches and
waited.
"The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked: who
can know it?" Hannah quoted.
"He that trusteth in his own heart is a fool," Elizabeth added.
"There is a way which seemeth right unto a man,
but the end thereof are the ways of death," Sarah recited. Still, she
seemed troubled, so I posed another question to her.
"What's the difference between Timothy and Adam?"
"That's easy, mama," Hannah began, but I shook my head 'no' and focused
on Sarah.
"Well," said Sarah, "God made Adam from the dust of the earth, and
Timothy has parents."
"Right," I said. "Adam came directly from the hand of God. He was
perfect until he chose to follow his wife into sin. Adam was created by
God. Timothy was procreated by his father and mother. Adam's parent was
perfect, but Timothy's parents are not. No one's parents are."
"So, if God had created Timothy, he would be perfect?" Sarah asked.
"Yes, but He didn't. Timothy is the result of imperfect parents who were
the result of imperfect parents going all the way back to Adam and Eve
after they became sinful."
"But not everybody does like Timothy," Sarah protested.
"No," I said. "But everyone is imperfect. None of us are what God
created Adam and Eve to be. Each and every one of us falls short of the
glory of God in our own perverted way every day."
Hannah's hand went up, waving back and forth. I looked at her.
"If Timothy were born again, he would be a new creature. Old things
would pass away, and all things would become new, and he'd be normal."
"No, Hannah," I said, shaking my head. "If Timothy were born again he
would have a new nature, but the old nature he was born with would still
be there. All his sins would pass away, and he would receive the
righteousness of Christ judicially imputed to him, but he would still be
a sinner just like we all are. We lie and hate and gossip and covet and
always shall until death or the resurrection, whichever comes first."
"Then there's no hope for him?" Hannah asked. Her voice was sad.
"There's always hope," I said. "But the Christian life is not a one-shot
transaction that solves all our problems instantly. The Christian life
is one of constant repentance, of constantly rethinking what we've just
thought or said or done in the light of God's truth. It is a constant
confession of sin and continuous trust in the blood of Christ for the
forgiveness of that sin. It means finding our satisfaction, fulfillment,
even our self-image in the person of Christ Himself. That does not
happen overnight.
"So, the longer he goes down this path, the longer it will take for him
to get back," Hannah said.
"That goes for all of us," I said, "no matter what sinful path we
follow."
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