I have not written here in a long time, and want to update and check in so you all don't forget about me!!  (just kidding).  Much has happened to me that I have not shared with you ladies.  Here are some of them.

~I found my family on facebook, that is, my siblings, my brother and sister.

~My dad became so sick that I thought he was dying, and asked me to find my siblings.  He wanted to apologize to them (my dad and I have been estranged from them for a very long time)

~I asked them to come so he could apologize.

~I never heard back from my brother, my sister agreed to come, then decided not to come, then sent a note saying she felt no obligation toward her family whatsoever and "unfriended me" from her facebook.

~through all this drama I found my niece, now grown, and she came to us for Thanksgiving dinner.  We love her, and she loves us.  That is pretty cool.  She needs a loving family, and my children need a cousin!

~my dad is starting to become better.  It looks like he is going to survive this time.

~my 2nd dd has made us very proud by getting a good part in a play put on by Ohio State University branch here in our town, and has won several soccer awards as the mvp

~my children continue to bless my life, and love on me.  They are such a joy.

~I have found that through these experiences the hurt that I have carried over the rejection of my siblings has lessened considerably, and really, has vanished.  I realize that it is not, and has never been about me, but about them. 

I suppose I will have to tell my dad that my sister isn't coming after all.  He needs to count his blessings anyway, since he has us, and we are a loving, intact family. 

I hope you ladies have had a lovely Thanksgiving.  Now, on to Christmas.  Be blessed, today. 

Hugs and Kisses,

moma

My 2nd dd, Julianna, who will be graduating this year, wrote this poem for an English paper.  I loved it. 

Where I’m From

I am from African Drums and Pianos

From worn out hairbrushes, old computers, and grease lightning

From broken garage doors and pooped plastic swimming pools

From the poor mans pennies picked, dried, and placed in a homemade tan vase

I am from playing soccer and scoring goals

From Queens of the playground, renting movies on Fridays, and 6 hour long phone calls

I am from clearance aisles, huge exaggerations, and miscommunications

From long Christian missions trips and Sunday services at the house

I am from Chineke Gozie Gi and Aharum Gi Nanya

I am from “May I be excused please?” and “Take your plate to the kitchen.”

From African stew and rice, Apple Pie, DQ’s Bananas splits and Foo Foo

I am from “Praise the Lord this is Julianna speaking.” and “Don’t forget to do your chore.”

I am from Moo Cow, thumb sucking, and getting out of bed to knock on Mommy and Daddy’s door

From head banging and monster nightmares

From high IQ’s but low incomes

I am from Mansfield, Ohio 44906

I am from December 5^th 1991

While we are on the subject of names.

When my dh and I first married, he tried hard to come up with the name he would call me.  Apparently, in his culture, husbands and wives seldom call each other by their given names.  They pick out a name that they only call one another.  His parents called each other "boy friend" and "girl friend,"  respectively.  I always thought that was sweet.  My dh decided to call me Love, 23 years ago, and has called me that since.  In our entire married life, he has only called me Donna 2 times. He was really, really REALLY mad at me when he did it.  Thankfully, it hasn't happened in a long time.

It has been very appropriate, since over the years his constant and steady love for me has been a rock for me, a place of refuge.  It has helped me understand the love God has for me as well.

I, otoh, felt the need to do the same.  So, having given it a bit of thought, and since his name is Eleazer, I decided to call him "Lazer" because I thought he was a powerful person that could zero in pretty quickly on others and where they were coming from and all that.  From that I began to call him "Laze." 

Nobody but me can call him that.  Occasionally others, especially young people, would hear me call him that and try it.  Let's just say that it didn't fly.  They never tried it twice. 

It's rather fun to have a name that only I am allowed to use for him.  He is my Lazer, but not anybody else's.  So there!  hee hee

Tomorrow, the names of our 5 children.  I love to talk about their names. 

My brown-skinned dh and I went to visit my dad who was sent by ambulance to the hospital this evening. We arrived there before anyone saw him, even though he had been there for about an hour.

A man walked in, did not greet us, or talk to us, and sat down. He looked "official" and my dh asked him if he was the doctor. He said yes and asked who we were. My dh said we were his family. Then the doctor asked him,

"How'd that happen?"

My dh recoiled right away, and asked him, rather bluntly, why he thought that was so hard to believe.

At this point I suggested to the doctor that he tread carefully.

The doctor then glared at me.

I told him that I was his dd and that this was my dh.

He sort-of started talking to us a little bit more reasonably, but not really. He complained about the nursing home sending him with no info and he had no idea about him or why he was there or any of his history. We had just arrived ourselves and only knew that my dad had a temperature that would not come down.

The doctor frankly told us that the nursing home sent him there because they didn't want to take care of him. Then he began to ask us if we understood what he was facing, with the way others did their jobs.  He "guessed" that my dad had pnemonia, then he changed his mind, saying he had a urinary tract infection and was dehydrated. 

They took my dad away for tests and I asked the attendant at the desk to call me when they decide to admit or to send him back. She refused, telling me to call and find out. She did write down their number.

I called the nursing home and spoke to my dad's nurse, who had just gotten off the phone with the hospital who said they didn't know anything about my dad's condition, not even his temperature.

Is it me, or is this really ridiculous?

My sweet friend, Qene, wanted me to post about my xanga name.  It is momaoge.  Moma, for obvious reasons, as I have 5 children and eventually, no matter how old you are, you are most likely going to end up calling me moma.  I think this is due possibly to me having a "moma anointing," as I call it.  All of our church people call me momadonna, and, of course, my children also call me moma, or mom. 

Here's the reason for Oge.

I married an African man, over 23 years ago, now.  He is an Igbo.  They are a southern tribe in the country of Nigeria, in West Africa.  It is a custom when one marries into that tribe from another place/tribe/culture, to be given a name from their own.  It's because they are tribal, and feel that once you marry into their culture, you marry them!!  Not in the way we see married, of course, but that they see you as entering their own tribe, as the wife of one of their tribesmen.  When I walk down the lane in my dh's village, all the sweet older ladies come up to me, take my hand, or gently grab my arms and smile their biggest, prettiest, smile and say, "My wife.  My wife.  My wife." 

Now, that took some getting used to, let me tell you, but I eventually saw it as a special thing.  I am a part of something bigger than myself or my close family.  I am a part of them, because I'm married to them.  Well, sort of.....

Now, once the word of our marriage was out in his family, I received 2 gift-names from them.  One is Chinyere (which means God's gift) and the other is Oge Chi (which means God's time).  My dh put them together for me and named me Ogechinyere, "God's gift in God's time."  Really, it fit perfectly, as God didn't hurry one bit in finding him a wife.  My dh was 40 years old when he married me, but when He did, God moved very quickly, and my dh knew right away, as soon as he met me in fact,  that he would marry me.

Of course, this name is a bit cumbersome for Americans, and even for fellow Igbo's, so as often happens, I received a nickname, which is Oge, meaning simply "time."  And when I am in Africa, I am called Oge by my family there.  It is pronounced "Oh' Gay."  Of course, my dh never calls me that.  He has always called me "Love."  Come to think of it, I can only remember 2 times in 23 years that he has called me by my given name, which, of course, is Donna.  In fact, so few people actually call me Donna these days, that I sometimes hesitate when I am referred to in that way.  It doesn't feel like my name anymore. 

Since I received that name, so long ago, I have shared it with my oldest dd, who is Ruth Ogechinyere, but we just call her Ruthie. 

And that is the history of my strange name here on xanga, for my dear sister, Q.