Of The best laid plans, I've suddenly changed mine. At work yesterday, when things seemed to press, I'd think, "tomorrow's going to be much more fun".

Even though we work with very slow people in the nursing home, we still have to rush sometimes. So when I had to pause a bit to bring me down to their speed, I'd think of what I wanted to write about next in my life story.

But like my daughter, Bev, at Blessed Beyond Measure, I sometimes quickly change my mind, too. This post also includes daughter, Barb, at A Chelsea Morning, and may include Bev and Barb's brothers.

Yesterday I longed for a day off, for unrushed time wearing my favorite old gown, and the only work, refilling the coffee cup.

That's exacly how this day's unfolding. I had planned to write #3 of my life story, but first had to check the bloglines, and today's story just stood out from there.

Blessed Beyond Measure is doing the usual several things all at once. What's amazing is how well she does them, all at the same time. Her deciding to create and run the chuch book store is so like her. Anything less than a challenge is so unfulfilling it borders on boring, almost an insult.

So if you haven't read about Bev's latest multiple endeavor, check out Blessed Beyond Measure. From the opening "I've found my twin", to her "That's the way I like it, uh-huh, uh-huh", although Bev's too modest to agree, it is sheer creativity.

She's probably already making serious spread sheets (although I don't really know exactly what a spread sheet is), she's making them, about choosing books for the store, and how to create displays. Did you notice she's already thinking about background music for customers to enjoy?

While Bev's doing all that, big sister, Barb, at A Chelsea Morning is making numerous holiday things. The most recent one is a table center piece, of glitter gourds.

For years I've been telling Barb she's very creative. She's so good at knowing what goes well together, and doesn't. To me, that is creativity. Some day she may share about the miniature houses she designed. To say they're just doll houses, or only built, wouldn't do them justice. But Barb doesn't think she's creative. She just replies that she's good at following directions. She's wrong about this, of course. I'm her mother, and I know.

Barb and Bev had four brothers. Jerry, at least for a little while, liked doing drawings, but he seemed more interested in photography. Like anybody first starting out, he needed more practice. His son got most of what he tried to capture on camera.

I managed to get one that he did, and although his life wasn't pretty, so unpretty that he chose to end it, can you imagine how much I treasure this one thing he saw through a camera lense, a very beautiful rose.

I'm getting too serious here. When I began this, this morning, I just wanted to tell you about my children's talents.

By the world's measuring stick, son Gary isn't at all successful. He's barely getting by. But he has qualities rich men could envy, forgiving tremendous hurts, accepting how his life is, and in all of it, seeing some beauty, and humor.

When Gary was about ten years old, he really got into the Christmas season that year. When I pulled into the drivay, I knew something was up. A big mass of green trees, and saw horses, those things carpenters use, had become a nativity scene.

From somewhere in the house, Gary strung lights out to it. A bright one dangled over Joseph and Mary, and Barb or Bev's baby doll was infant Jesus. The girls were probably upset that Gary used their doll without asking. But except for worrying about the electrical cords, I would have kept Gary's manger scene up til New Year's day. His father made him take it all down.

You'd think his father and I were looking at the world through different windows. We didn't see many things from the same viewpoint. Gary had been sent to bed for some offense four year old boys commit, and couldn't tolerate the boredom of having nothing to do.

He found a crayola, a blue one, and drew a long train on the wall. His father wanted it removed. I couldn't see that it mattered if it stayed there. The wall was only unpainted sheetrock, and I felt that Gary's train added something to it, but mostly was glad he drew so well, for a four year old.

Childhood development is measured by how much detail they're aware of. Gary's train had long puffs of smoke going up and out from it. The wheels showed several parts, also the train tracks. Box cars were strung out, but connected, and were going uphill. When we sold that house a few years later, the blue train was still on the wall.

Son Dwain, you could not ignore. Some even get irritated with him. Sometimes I do too. If only one word could describe him, that word would be "extreme". Like all of us, what wasn't supplied in his childhood development, he's still trying to create.

While Barb must have order, and things be exactly so, and Bev functions better if she's mentally challenged, and Gary decides he'll have peace and serenity whichever way he can, Dwain makes it happen, usually in a big way.

An example of this was how he helped me move to the other side of our mountains in Colorado. He got a U-haul trailer big enough to bring along his motorcycle, and after we got the move done, rode it the two hundred miles or more back to Denver.
I love his ability to capture something of the moment, and his positive "can do" attitude.

Son, Derrell, the one we called "baby" until the day he stood up as tall as he could and announced: "When you're this big, you're not a baby anymore". That clues you to his personality. At reasoning, he's adept. he's also more patient than most. Like his mother, he talks too much sometimes. To him it's just explaining necessary details, many details.

I realize since I'm his mother, I cannot be very objective. Still, I don't think I'm giving Derrell undue credit for his qualities. He's very fair minded, and so faithful to others. When he says he will do something, you can count on it.

I don't know why I'm remembering all this today. Something about Autumn seems to encourage it. Will get back to my own life story soon, but maybe this is part of it too.

Hope you've enjoyed what I've told you about my half dozen. I am their mother, so I'm right, or as Barb would say, "Sigh!"