Not the BUS!!!

Kate has been wanting to ride the bus for a long, long time.  Since our county K-12 school sits out in the middle of nowhere, trying to center it in the county, everyone has to ride the bus to and from school or has to be taken and picked up by family.  So my daughter and I have always taken my precious baby girl to school and always picked her up.  She’s only in first grade, so we have been doing this for about three years, from Pre-K to now.

Last year she started wanting to ride the bus.  In kindergarten!!!  She is definitely a free spirit and loves new experiences, but those bus kids learn all sort of things when they ride the bus.  And I did not want her learning all those things.

Kate's first bus day

Kate’s first bus day

But she has been insisting, so her Momma finally gave in.  She gets to ride the bus home from school.

I got to be at the house her first bus trip home because her Momma had a doctor’s appointments or something.  It gave me a great opportunity to get those first bus trip photos.


If you look really, really closely underneath all the glare, you will see the reason I am not worried about my precious cargo riding the bus: her bus driver, Lisa.

Do you see that happy smiling face?

Can you tell how competent and caring she is just by looking at that pretty lady?

Do you think she’s laughing at me for taking pictures of my granddaughter getting off the bus?


Kate definitely was not laughing at me for taking pictures of her getting off the bus.  As a matter of fact, I think I will probably be banned from future first-time events.

Kate not looking too happy about Gigi in the middle of the road taking pics.

Kate not looking too happy about Gigi in the middle of the road taking pics.

But… she loves her Gigi and doesn’t stay embarrassed too long.  I got a big hug after this sprint from the bus trip home.


She sits with a big girl at the front of the bus.  We are right there to meet her when she gets off.

I guess it will be okay.

“I Was Born to Take Care of You”

James worked three jobs: driving a truck, driving a bus for the school, and being the youth leader at church.  He also began college again, having quit in his younger days, standing up in class and speaking out for his beliefs.  He wasn’t afraid to tackle a difficult situation, conversation, or project… or relationship.  James was a busy man.  But his No. 1 job was to take care of me.  And anyone that knows me knows that is a full-time job.  He would get my Bible and my treats for my Sunday School children all ready (he was always on time and had it together) and stand in the bathroom doorway, leaning his shoulder against the doorjamb, watching me finish with make-up.  I would say, “I’m hurrying,” and he would reply, “Just take your time; I like watching you.”  He was the husband the Bible talks about when it tries to teach us how to interact as husband and wife.  If he told me once, he told me a thousand times, “I was born to take care of you.”

Beauty and the Beast

He did take care of me.  He was a neat, orderly person; everything had a place and it should be kept there.  I am a slob and drove him nuts, so he taught me and encouraged me and showed me how to be orderly and how good it feels to be orderly.  He took care of the yard, the pool, the vehicles, cooked, washed clothes, cleaned.  Anything I could do, quite literally, he could do just as well or better.

James and Brenda

He didn’t need me.  He loved me.

And he loved my children.  Even though they were older, he still felt a responsibility toward them and had concern about their lives.  My youngest son was no exception, my youngest son who had finally been diagnosed with schizophrenia, my youngest son whose behavior became more and more absurd, my youngest son who would eventually take the life of the man who understood him the most.


James had done research about schizophrenia for his college classes and would call and talk to the doctors concerning my son’s illness, the medications, the subsequent hospitalizations, doing what he could to get the help needed, the help that never came, the help that could have saved his life.

Yes, I am still angry.